Synopoulos was no more a worthy priest, a man of God, than any young man who studied nothing, bought his way out of his mistakes, and took his pleasures where he wished and as his right.
His family would be grateful, and as long as the Greek Church stayed independent of Rome, a high office would bring in even more wealth. But far above money was the pride and the respect.
When Constantine did come to her, he looked elated, his face a little flushed.
"I have just received a new donation to the poor. We are gathering strength, Anastasius. Men are repenting of their sins, confessing and putting the past away. They will not join Rome but will fight beside us for the truth."
She forced an answering smile. "Good."
He heard the effort in her voice. "Is something wrong?"
"No," she lied, then knew he would not believe her. "It is simply that there is so far to go."
"We are gaining allies all the time. Now the Synopoulos are with us, and the Skleros have always been."
She wanted to ask at what cost, but she was not yet ready to challenge him. "I came about another matter, a patient I am concerned for..." And she addressed the cause of her visit.
He listened patiently, but it was clear to Anna that his mind was still in the exhilaration of his achievement.
Anna found Zoe in her bedroom, lying on the great bed. Its tightly laced sheep-fleece mattress was covered with further goose-down ones and then clean, embroidered linen. It was so soft, Zoe had sunk into the depths in great comfort; still, she was tired and bad-tempered. Her lungs were congested, and she complained that it kept her from sleeping. She blamed Helena for having brought the affliction into the house.
"Then she is ill, too," Anna said. "I am sorry. Shall I take some herbs to her, also? Or does she prefer a... a more traditional physician?" It was a delicate way of asking if she would accept medicine rather than a priest's treatment by prayer and confession.
Zoe laughed harshly. "Don't mince words around me, Anastasius!" she snapped, sitting up a little farther against the pillows. "Helena is a coward. She will confess to anything trivial, and take the herbs if she likes them well enough, which I think you already know perfectly well. Isn't that what you do for most people-comfort their guilty consciences with the doctrine they expect, and then give them the medicine that actually treats the illness?"
It gave Anna a chill to realize Zoe saw through her so easily. She struggled for an answer. "Some people are more honest, others less," she equivocated.
"Well, Helena is less," Zoe said coldly. "Anyway, why do you care about her? I called you, she didn't. Is it because she's Bessarion's widow? You've been unusually curious about him from the beginning."
Lies would never work with Zoe. "Yes, I have," Anna said boldly. "From what I have heard, he was fervently against the union with Rome, and he was murdered for it. I care very strongly that we do not lose ourselves and all that we believe to what is in effect a conquest by deception. This seems to be surrender. I would rather be conquered still fighting."
Zoe propped herself up on her elbows. "Well, well. Such spirit! You would have been disappointed in Bessarion, I promise you." Her voice was laced with disgust. "He had less manhood than you have, God help you!"
"Then why bother to murder him?" Anna asked. "Or was it to replace him with someone better?"
Zoe stopped, remaining motionless on one elbow, even though it must have been uncomfortable. "Such as whom?" she asked.
Anna took the plunge. "Antoninus?" she said. "Or Justinian Lascaris? Some people are saying he was man enough for it. Did he not have the courage?" She was trying to sound casual, although her body was stiff and her hands rigid. She had said it to begin with merely as a spur to make Zoe deny it and perhaps give away more. Now the idea danced wildly in her mind as a possibility.
"You think I know?" That was a demand, and the edge of Zoe's voice was razor-sharp.
Anna held her gaze. "I would be very surprised if you didn't."
Zoe leaned back against her pillows, her rich, bright hair fanning out. "Of course I do. Bessarion was a fool. He trusted all sorts of people, and look where it got him! Esaias Glabas is charming, but a player of games, a manipulator.