Adora

the palace. She and her brother were but two years apart and had always been close. Now they clung to each other, and Matthew whispered, “I am afraid, Thea. What will happen to us?”

“Nothing,” she soothed him. Lord, he was such a gentle boy, she thought. “Father puts us with the church for safety. We’ll be back together again soon. Besides, it should be fun for you-escaping from all us women!”

He took heart from her words and, hugging her, turned back to their mother. He kissed her, mounted his horse, and rode manfully off, with Leo close behind.

Next to go were Sophia and Eudoxia, escorted-to their delight-by a troop of Cantacuzene’s household guards. The girls preened and giggled, deliberately bumping the young soldiers, rubbing their bobbing breasts against young male arms and backs. Zoe spoke sharply to them. They gave her sour looks, but they obeyed. She was a good stepmother, more liberal than most, and both girls knew it.

John Cantacuzene would escort his wife and two younger daughters. He had cleverly scattered his family in various locations, the better to conceal their whereabouts. Matthew’s monastery was near the Gate of the Pege at the western end of the city. Sophia and Eudoxia’s convent was near the Blanchernae Gate in the northeast part of the city. Zoe and the little ones would be at St. Barbara’s on the Lycus River, outside the old wall of Constantine, near the Fifth Military Gate.

John helped his pregnant wife to settle beside Theadora and Helena in their litter. It was almost dawn, and rainbow colors sifted through the gray and gold clouds, dappling the waters of the Golden Horn.

“It’s the most beautiful city in the world!” sighed Theadora. “I never want to live anywhere else.”

Zoe smiled at her little daughter. “You might have to, Thea. Someday you could be wed to a prince whose home is elsewhere. Then you would have to leave here.”

“I would sooner die!” declared the child passionately. Zoe smiled again Theadora might have her father’s brilliant mind, but she was still a mere female. Sooner or later she would learn to accept that. Someday she would meet a man and then, thought Zoe, the city would matter very little.

They passed St. Theodosia, and though still in the city the landscape became more suburban with comfortable looking villas built amid lovely landscaped gardens. They crossed over the bridge that spanned the river Lycus, and left the Triumphal Way to follow an unpaved dirt road. After a mile or so, another right turn took them up to the great bronze gates set within the whitewashed brick walls of St. Barbara’s Convent. Entering, they were met by the Reverend Mother Thamar. Kneeling, John Cantacuzene kissed the ring on the thin, aristocratic hand extended to him.

“I ask unlimited sanctuary for my wife, my daughters, and my unborn child,” he requested formally.

“Sanctuary is granted, my lord,” answered the tall, austere woman.

He rose, helping Zoe from the litter, he introduced her. At the sight of the children, Mother Thamar’s face softened.

“My daughters, Princess Helena and Princess Theadora,” John said quietly.

So, thought the nun. That is how it is going to be! Well, his family has a right to those titles, though they have rarely used them.

Taking his wife aside, John Cantacuzene spoke quietly with her for a few moments, then kissed her tenderly. Then he spoke with his daughters.

“If I am a princess,” asked Helena, “then I must marry a prince. Mustn’t I, Father?”

“You are a princess, my pet, but I mean for you to be an empress some day.”

Helena’s blue eyes widened. Then she asked, “And shall Thea be an empress also?”

“I have not yet chosen a husband for Theadora.”

Helena shot her little sister a triumphant look. “Why not marry her to the Grand Turk, father? Maybe he likes purple eyes!”

“I would never marry that old infidel,” exclaimed Theadora. “Besides, Father would never do anything to make me unhappy. And that certainly would!”

“You would have to marry him if Father said so.” Helena was unbearably smug. “And then you would have to leave the city! Forever!”

“If I married that old man,” countered Theadora, “I should see that he brought his army to capture the city. Then I should be its empress instead of you!”

“Helena! Theadora!” scolded Zoe gently, but John Cantacuzene laughed heartily. “Ah, chick,” he chuckled, ruffling Theadora’s hair, “you really should have been a boy! What fire! What spirit! What a damned logical mind! I shall find you the most advantageous husband, I promise you.”

Bending, he kissed his two daughters, then strode back out through the gate, mounting his horse, he waved and rode off, confident that his family was safe. Now he could begin his battle for the throne of Byzantium.

It was not an easy war, for the population of Byzantium was torn by loyalties. Both the Paleaologis and the Cantacuzenes were old, respected families.

Should the people support the young son of their late emperor or the man who had actually been running the empire for years? Too, there was the deep suspicion, kept alive by the Cantacuzene faction, that Empress Anna of Savoy intended to lead Byzantium back to hated Rome.

John Cantacuzene and his eldest son left the city to lead their forces against young John Paleaologi. Neither side would harm their beloved city of Constantine. The war would be fought outside the capital.

Though Cantacuzene preferred diplomacy to warfare there was no choice. The two dowager empresses sought his death, and what should have been a quick victory turned into a war of several years’ duration while the fickle Byzantines constantly switched sides. Finally, John Cantacuzene sought aid from the Ottoman Turks who ruled on the other side of the Sea of Marmara. Although the mercenary soldiers of Byzantium fought well, Cantacuzene could never be sure how many he might lose to a higher bidder. He needed an army he could depend on.

Sultan Orkhan had already had a request for aid from the Paleaologi side. Unfortunately, they had offered only money, and the sultan knew their Imperial treasury was empty. John Cantacuzene offered gold, which he really had; the fortress of Tzympe in the Gallipoli peninsula; and his little daughter, Theadora. If Orkhan accepted the offer, Tzympe would give the Turks their first toehold in Europe-and without shedding a drop of blood. It was too tempting to refuse, and the sultan accepted. Six thousand of his best forces were dispatched to John Cantacuzene and, together with the Byzantine forces, they took the coastal cities of the Black Sea, ravaged Thrace, and seriously threatened Adrianople. In short order they were besieging Constantinople, to which the young emperor had fled.

Safe behind the walls of St. Barbara’s Convent, little Theadora knew nothing of her impending marriage to a man fifty years her senior. But her mother knew, and Zoe wept that her exquisite child should be sacrificed. Such was the lot, however, of royal princesses, whose only value was in a marriage trade. Zoe actually believed that the sultan had helped John simply because he desired Theadora. Zoe was a devout woman-and the church kept alive the stories of the infidel’s evil ways. It did not occur to the anxious mother that Tzympe was what the sultan was really after.

It was Helena who maliciously broke the news to her younger sister. Four years older than Theadora, she was as beautiful as an angel with her golden hair and lovely blue eyes. But she was not an angel. She was selfish, vain, and cruel. The gentle Zoe had no influence over Helena.

One day when Mother Thamar had left the girls to practice a new embroidery stitch, Helena whispered, “They have chosen you a husband, sister.” Then, without waiting for Theadora to ask who, Helena continued, “You are to be the old infidel’s third wife. You will spend the rest of your days locked up in a harem…while I rule in Byzantium!”

“You lie!” accused Theadora.

Helena giggled. “No, I don’t. Ask Mother. She weeps often enough about it these days. Father needed soldiers he could depend on, and he offered you in exchange for troops. I understand the Turks love little children in their beds. Even boys! They…” And Helena lowered her voice while she described a particularly nasty perversion.

Theadora paled and slowly crumpled to the floor in a faint. Helena regarded her curiously for minute, then she called for help. When questioned by her mother she blandly disclaimed any understanding of why her sister had fainted-a lie that was quickly exposed as Theadora returned to consciousness.

Zoe rarely chastised her children physically, but this time she angrily slapped Helena’s smug face several times. “Take her away,” she told the servants. “Take her from me before I beat her to death!” Then Zoe gathered her youngest daughter into her soft arms. “There, my little one. There, love. It is not so bad.”

Theadora sobbed. “Helena said the sultan likes little girls in his bed. She said he would hurt me! That when a