Siege of Heaven

though it did not open.

‘Wait here for a hundred-count, then come through. She will be in the cloisters.’

Once more, the footsteps retreated. I doubted the delay was necessary, but I honoured the doorkeeper’s request and counted to a hundred as quickly as I could. Then I pushed the door open, padded down a short passage and emerged into the broad colonnades of the cloisters. Moonlight shone onto the columns’ faces so that they appeared like steel bars around the square, while behind them all was darkness. On the far side, directly opposite me, stood Anna.

She was thinner than I remembered, though we had been apart less than two weeks. In the hot summer air her white shift clung to her body, divulging every rise and shadow beneath: her dark hair was tousled wild by her pillow. She appeared like an icon of everything I loved and craved; I pulled off the cloth that covered my face and ran towards her.

‘Stop.’

A large figure stepped out of the darkness behind her, levelling a silver-tipped spear towards me. Desperation almost overpowered my instinct for survival, but at the last I reined myself in and halted just short of the spear’s point.

‘Stay there,’ the figure ordered.

I stared at Anna, bewildered. Why did she not come forward? ‘What is this?’

She closed her eyes. ‘My guard.’

‘Against what? Me?’

‘No — he is protecting you.’

‘Against what?’

‘Against me.’

I stumbled back, though the guard’s spear had not moved. There were hot tears on my face.

‘What could you possibly do to me?’ Even as I spoke the question, I began to guess its answer, and dread it.

Anna folded her hands penitently before her. She was crying too: the moon caught her tears and scarred her cheeks silver.

‘I have become a plague doctor.’

The last spark of hope died in my soul. A voice that was hardly my own asked, ‘Have you. .?’

‘Have I caught the plague?’ Anna shook her head. ‘God willing, not yet.’

I gestured to the guard. ‘Then why is he here?’

‘They insisted on it.’

‘Who?’

‘The Franks. They would not let me tend the sick without a guard to make sure I didn’t touch the healthy.’

‘You volunteered for this?’

She gave a joyless laugh. ‘Do you really think I’m such a saint? I had no choice. The woman I went to see the day you left, the one whose baby was overdue — she was infected. She was almost dead when I found her — the baby, too. The Franks barred the doors and would not let anyone leave the house. They only allowed me out when I agreed to tend the other victims. Then I came here.’

Anna’s guard had moved around to my left, standing between us and a little way apart with his spear outstretched, while she and I faced each other across the cloistered square. I needed an iron grip over every muscle in my body not to run to her and embrace her, heedless of consequence.

In a firmer voice, she asked, ‘Did you find your relic?’

‘There was no relic. Ravendan was a trap. The monk attacked us and took us prisoner.’ With the guard watching, I did not mention Duke Godfrey’s part. At that moment, it hardly seemed to matter. ‘We only just escaped.’

‘Is Sigurd all right?’

‘Barely.’ I saw Anna gasp. ‘He suffered a blow to the head, and has not risen since. He has a fever. You must see him.’

‘What can I do?’ She opened her empty hands. ‘I cannot leave this cloister, much less the city.’

‘You have to,’ I repeated stubbornly.

‘I can’t.’

‘I could bring him here.’

She stamped her foot in anger. ‘Is that a joke? If Sigurd is so weak, the plague would kill him the minute he looked at Antioch. He must manage without me.’

We stared at each other across the square. The moonlight filled the space between us like glass.

‘If I could, of course I would be with Sigurd this instant,’ she said softly. ‘But I do not have that choice. I chose to come to Antioch and I came freely, because of you. Because I loved you.’ She flicked her hand to shush my embarrassed protest. ‘Now that choice is made, we are each as helpless as the other. We are slaves to powers we cannot defy.’

More tears were tumbling down her cheeks and her eyes were dark with sadness. I longed to run across the courtyard, to hug her to me and crush away the distance between us. But the guard’s spear was steady, hovering like a wasp at the edge of my gaze.

‘The emperor’s new envoy has come,’ I said at last.

Anna brushed away a tear, rubbing her cheek with a loose lock of hair. ‘Then you’re free to go.’

‘He has ordered me to Egypt.’

With all the passion wrung from it, my soul had become dry and calloused. I related Nikephoros’ orders without emotion. Anna listened quietly until I was finished.

‘Will you go?’

I hesitated. I had come there that night with wild plans of escape burning in my heart: I would take Anna out of Antioch, she could heal Sigurd in a secret place until he was well, and then the three of us would make our way back to Constantinople. It was a pleasant dream — but impossible. It was as Anna had said: we had made our choices, or had them forced upon us, and now we would suffer the outcomes.

‘I will go to Egypt,’ I said. ‘Nikephoros has given me little alternative.’ And you have made sure of it, I did not say. To stay in Antioch, waiting to see whether Sigurd’s wounds killed him before the plague killed Anna — it would be like being milled between boulders. Against that, Egypt was almost an enticing prospect.

Anna nodded, as if she had known my decision before I said it.

‘Travel safely,’ she said simply. Her tears had dried up, and her face was calm again.

I could not bring myself to turn away, but stared at Anna as though — by the force and duration of my gaze alone — I could communicate all I felt. She matched my gaze, unyielding. Pity, kindness and desperate sorrow mingled in her face; I thought she might collapse into tears again, and I would have followed suit if she had, but she did not.

Without a word of farewell, she half-raised a hand in mock salute and turned away. The guard followed her as she disappeared between the pillars into the dark cloisters.

9

We sailed for Egypt the next day. I had never been on a ship before, except to cross the few hundred yards of the Bosphorus, but I had always assumed I would hate it. For some reason, I did not. Perhaps I felt so wretched that the turbulent deep beneath our keel lost its terror, or perhaps the suspension of all cares and duties, forced by the confines of the ship, calmed me. It was as if I had been plucked out of my life, cut free of the ties and obligations that held me there, and set adrift upon the blank canvas of the sea. For the first time in months, or even years, I had nothing to do. I sat in the shade of the turret that commanded the centre of the ship and watched the crew, as idle and superfluous as the cat who ate the galley scraps.

Apart from the crew, we were nineteen passengers: Nikephoros and his attendants; a priest; an honour