her mind what bound these people together who seemed to have so little in common. Anna could not believe it was faith, but it could perhaps be hatred of Rome.
The following morning was Sunday, and she walked alone to the Hagia Sophia to attend the Mass. She wanted to be where neither Simonis nor Leo could see her or question her mood. Perhaps the glory of the building and the power of the familiar words would comfort her, remind her of the certainties that mattered.
On the steps almost in the shadow of the dome, she nearly bumped into Zoe. It was impossible to avoid her without being both rude and slightly absurd.
"Ah, Anastasius," Zoe said blandly. "How are you? I apologize for Eirene's odd manners. She is a woman of peculiar moods. Perhaps you could treat her for it? She would benefit greatly." She fell into step beside Anna as they moved toward the Tarsus doors. "As would all those around her," she added.
Once they entered the building, it was as if Anna had ceased to exist. Zoe was as wrapped in the intensity of her thoughts as she was in the dark folds of her robe. Zoe stepped to one side, at the tomb of Doge Enrico Dandolo. A look of scalding hate filled her face; her eyes narrowed, and her lips curled into a snarl. Her body clenched, and she spat violently onto the cursed name. Then, chin high, she moved away.
Without looking to left or right, she went straight to one of the outer colonnades of arches and found an icon of the Virgin. She stood before it with her head bowed.
Anna was a little to the left of her and saw her face, eyes closed, mouth soft, and lips slightly parted, as though she breathed in the essence of a holy place. Anna believed she prayed quite genuinely, several times repeating the same words over and over.
Anna looked at the Madonna holding her child, the calm joy radiating from her face more than from the gold of the mosaic creator's art. There was something purely human in it, a power of the spirit to which she had been a witness.
Anna felt it like an ache within herself for something forever lost, a grief for what could not be. And she felt guilt because she herself had given it away, not in generosity or sacrifice, but in fury and in a revulsion so savage that she had allowed it to possess her. Was there forgiveness for that? She left, tears spilling hot on her face, all but choking her.
As she passed the tomb of Enrico Dandolo on the way out, she saw a man there, a cloth in his hand, carefully wiping away the spittle where Zoe, and others, had vented their hatred. He stopped and looked up at her, his dark eyes finding hers, recognizing the pain but puzzled.
Another woman walked past and, disregarding him, spat on the tomb.
He turned back to it and began patiently cleaning it again.
Anna stood and watched. His hands were beautiful, strong and slender, working as if nothing had happened.
She regarded his face, knowing he was unaware of her, set on his task. There was power in the line of his bones, vulnerability in his mouth. She would like to think he could laugh, quickly, easily if the wit was good, but there was nothing of ease in him now, only an intense loneliness.
Anna felt it also, an ache inside her almost beyond bearing, because outwardly she was neither man nor woman, only a solitary person loved perhaps only by God-but not yet forgiven by Him.
Chapter 23-24
Twenty-three
GIULIANO DANDOLO WALKED OUT INTO THE LIGHT, almost unaware of the heat of the sun on the stones or the glare. This was only the second time he had been inside the Hagia Sophia. Around the base of the vast central dome was a ring of high windows, and the light poured in, making the whole interior like the heart of some great jewel burning with its own fire.
He was used to the veneration of the Virgin Mary, but this was a different kind of femininity; holy wisdom as a woman was a strange concept to him. Surely wisdom was unwavering light, anything but feminine?
Then he had seen the tomb of Enrico Dandolo, soiled with spittle, and stood in front of it confused by loyalty and shame, both tearing at him in the same moment. Since coming here, he had learned far more about