in it, in order to save himself. Dead now, he was beyond Zoe's reach, let God burn him in hell. But Cosmas was alive and well and now here again in Constantinople, prospering. He had much to lose. She watched him as she would watch a fruit ripening, read to be plucked.
Her eyes moved to the golden bowl on the table. It was full of apricots, like liquid amber touched with the red of the sun. She picked one up and bit into it, crushing its flesh between her teeth and letting the juice run over her lips onto her chin.
Euphrosane's grandfather Georgios Doukas had helped steal icons from the Hagia Sophia, the Mother Church of Byzantium. He had even helped them take the Holy Shroud of Christ itself. Its loss to the Orthodox faith could never be forgiven. Now the coarse, irreverent fingers of the Latins would hold it. Zoe's whole body shuddered at the thought, as if she herself had been touched intimately by something foul.
It was a stroke of good fortune that Euphrosane had fallen ill with a disease of the skin that her own physician could not heal. It had enabled Zoe to send the eunuch physician to her, and he in turn would get Cosmas to trust her.
She took another apricot; this one was less ripe than the first, a little like Anastasius. He had surprised her with his sharpness in judging Euphrosane. Not that he was wrong, of course; she simply had expected him to be more mealy-mouthed in expressing it. But liking him could not be allowed to get in the way of Zoe's plans for revenge. If Anastasius was useful, that was all that mattered.
And he had one weakness she should not forget-he forgave. Some of the patients she had recommended had treated him badly, but he did not seem to bear a grudge. He had had opportunity to take advantage of them in return, and he had not taken it. Zoe did not think it was cowardice; there would have been no danger to himself-indeed, no price to pay of any sort. That was stupid. With no fear there would be no respect. She would have known better. She would have to protect Anastasius, as long as he was useful. All scores must be evened.
She turned back and faced the room and the great gold crucifix on the wall. She would help the physician in his quest for information about Bessarion, but she knew it had nothing to do with understanding alliances in Constantinople. Then why was he asking about it?
Naturally she could not tell him even a whisper of the truth. Could she say that Helena had been bored witless by Bessarion and that he had probably never been interested in her-not as a man should be interested in a woman?
She relaxed and threw back her head, smiling in a rare moment of self-mockery She had tried to seduce Bessarion herself once, just to see if there was any fire in his loins, or his soul. There wasn't. He was willing, eventually, but it wasn't worth the trouble.
No wonder Helena's eyes were wandering! Far cleverer to seduce Antoninus and then use him to dispose of Bessarion and so get rid of both of them-if that was what had happened. That was worthy of a daughter of Zoe's. She had been slow to learn, but apparently she had succeeded well enough in the end. Pity Helena had compromised Justinian, too. He was a real man, too much for Helena. If she had caused that, Zoe would not forgive her for it.
She walked slowly across the room to the doorway, swinging her arm out a fraction to make the silk of her robe flutter and shine in the light. The sheen changed color from russet to gold and back again, deceiving the eye, firing the imagination.
A week later, the emperor sent for her. There was a man worth lying with. The memory was still a good one, even all these years after. Not the best; Gregory Vatatzes would always be that. But Zoe forced him out of her mind. There was pain in every thought of him, as well as pleasure.
Michael wanted something, or he would not have sent for her. She dressed carefully, gorgeous in a bronze and black silk tunic that clung to her. A high necklace would conceal the aging of her skin under her jaw. Her hands were soft. She knew exactly what ingredients to use in unguents