no time to think of anything but how to get more herbs, more ointments, more food. There was no money. Without the generosity of Shachar and al-Qadir, all real help would have ceased.
Constantine worked also. She saw him only as he called on her because he knew of someone in need so desperate that he was willing to interrupt whatever she was doing or even to waken her when she slept.
Sometimes they ate together or merely spent the last hours of a dreadful day in wordless comfort, each knowing that the other had had experiences equally harsh and also ending in death.
Then as the year waned, at last the infection ebbed. The dead were buried, and the business of ordinary life slowly took over again.
Twenty-eight
AS WAS INEVITABLE, POPE JOHN XXI ALSO BECAME bitterly aware of the reality in Byzantium with regard to the faith. He was not inclined to be as lenient as his predecessors. He sent letters to Constantinople demanding a public and unqualified acceptance of the filioque clause about the nature of God, of Christ, and of the Holy Spirit, the Roman doctrine of purgatory, the seven sacraments as held by Rome, and papal primacy over all other princes of the Church, with the right of appeal to the Holy See and submission of all churches to Rome.
All Michael's appeals for the Greek Church to retain its ancient rites, as before the Schism, were refused.
Palombara was present at the great ceremony in April 1277 when this new document was signed by Emperor Michael, his son, Andronicus, and the new bishops whom he had created because the established bishops would not yield their faith or their old allegiances. Of course, in that sense it was a farce. Michael knew it, and so did the new bishops. Their calling existed only on the condition of their abject and public surrender.
Palombara also knew it, and he watched the splendor of the ritual with no sense of victory. He stood in the magnificent hall and wondered how many of these men in their silks and gems felt any passion at all, and if they did, what it was. Was such a prize of any worth? Indeed, was it a service to God or to any kind of morality?
What was the difference between the whisper of the Holy Spirit, the hysteria born of the need for God to exist, and the terror and isolation of seeking Him alone? Was the darkness too big to look at? Or had they seen some light in it that he had not?
He turned slightly sideways to watch Vicenze, a couple of feet away. He stood upright, his eyes bright, his face totally unmoving. He reminded Palombara of nothing so much as a soldier at a victory parade.
How was Michael going to control his people after this? Was he realist enough to have some plan? Or was he shortsighted and utterly lost as well? All shorn lambs, struggling alone through the same gale, not seeing one another.
If only the monk Cyril Choniates would sign, then his followers would. It would be a giant step toward pacifying the opposition. Perhaps it could be brought about? But Palombara must do it, not Vicenze; at all costs, not Vicenze.
He smiled at himself and at his own weakness for victory.
But the main document was already signed. What he needed was an addendum. At first he saw it as a setback that Cyril Choniates was apparently quite seriously ill. Then he thought of Anastasius, the eunuch physician.
A few inquiries elicited the information that he was willing to treat anyone who needed his skills, Christian, Arab, or Jew. He would not rant on about sin or foolish talk of penitence, but would treat the illness, whether provoked by the mind or not.
The next thing for Palombara to do was have Anastasius recommended to whoever was caring for Cyril in his captivity. Who was powerful enough to do that and could be persuaded to?
The answer to that question was undoubtedly Zoe Chrysaphes.
Two days later, he called upon her, bringing with him as a gift this time a small but very beautiful Neapolitan cameo, carved with amazing delicacy. He had chosen it himself and was reluctant to give it away, although that was why he had bought it in the first place.
He saw in her eyes that it pleased her. She turned it over in her fingers, feeling the surface, smiling, then looked up at him.
"Exquisite, Your Grace," she said softly. "But I am past the