Читать книгу Betrothed to the Barbarian - Carol Townend, Carol Townend - Страница 7

Duke Nikolaos of Larissa, dark hair whipped by the wind, was riding like a demon into the mêlée on the Palace polo field when he realised his manservant Elias had returned and was waiting for him by the sea wall. Reining in sharply, Nikolaos wheeled Hermes about and spurred away from the action.

‘Devil take you, Niko! What are you playing at?’ a team-mate cried, with scant regard for formality, as the ball hurtled across the turf. Duke Nikolaos was General of the Athanatoi Cavalry and Commander-in-Chief of the Imperial Army, but he had made it clear that in this practice session, he was playing with friends. He was not on his warhorse today. Hermes was small and light-boned. Hermes was built for speed.

‘Niko.’ Another player leaned out of the saddle and took a wild swipe at the ball flying beneath his horse’s hooves. Missing the ball, the man righted himself with difficulty.

‘Damn you, Niko,’ he bawled, as his general trotted from the field.

Nikolaos swung his mallet over one shoulder and grinned. ‘A thousand apologies, I have business to attend to. In any case, I fear the girth is going on this saddle.’

A chorus of shouts and groans went up. ‘We’re a man short.’

‘Curse it, Niko, you can’t retreat mid-game.’

‘Keep practising,’ Niko said. ‘There’s less than a month before the tournament—the tournament, I remind you, that the Athanatoi shall win.’ He gestured at a lad standing with the reserve horses on the edge of the field. ‘Zeno?’

‘General?’

‘Take my place, will you?’

The boy’s eyes lit up and he vaulted on to the back of one of the horses. ‘Gladly. Thank you, my lord.’

‘It’s your first time in the field, isn’t it, Zeno?’

‘Yes, General.’

‘It looks like a game and so it is. But one word of warning, it’s a ruthless one. Take no prisoners. Those miscreants …’ with a grin, Nikolaos jerked his head at the men he had assigned to the opposite team ‘… will show you no mercy. Remember that, and there’s a chance you will keep your seat.’

‘Yes, General.’

Nikolaos swung from the saddle, tossing the reins to Elias. His stallion’s brown coat was flecked with foam. ‘You delivered my message?’

‘Yes, my lord.’

Elias looked troubled. One of the reasons Nikolaos had kept Elias as his manservant for so long was that he never dissembled or lied to him. And that, as Nikolaos had learned, was a rare and precious quality. ‘Don’t tell me, the Princess is still ailing?’

‘Apparently so, my lord.’

A cypress at the edge of the polo ground was swaying slightly in the onshore breeze. Nikolaos scowled at it. ‘That’s twice I’ve sent messages to her apartment. I take it you saw no sign of her this time either?’

It had occurred to Nikolaos that Princess Theodora might be hiding from him, but that would seem absurd. She was an Imperial princess and the former Emperor, the man who had married her aunt, had approved their marriage.

She could not have taken a dislike to me, since we have never met.

Elias was shaking his head. ‘Not as much as a glimpse, my lord. All I saw was a handful of maidservants and a guard assigned to her apartment. Other than that her chambers were quiet.’

Nikolaos tapped his thigh with his mallet. ‘You left my message with the guard, I take it?’

‘Yes, my lord.’

‘What regiment was he?’

‘Varangian.’

Nikolaos grunted. ‘Should be reliable. Did you get the man’s name and rank?’

‘Kari. A trooper.’

‘Very well. My patience is wearing thin, but I shall give the Princess till this afternoon to respond. And then, if she continues to ignore my existence, I will have to speak to His Imperial Majesty. Our betrothal was made at the behest of his predecessor. Perhaps Emperor Alexios has decided he has other plans for her.’

Removing his gloves, Nikolaos tucked them thoughtfully into his belt. He could not decide whether Princess Theodora’s illness was genuine or whether it was an excuse designed to keep him at a distance. Nikolaos wanted this marriage. He had seen other men’s careers blighted by innuendo and rumour and he was determined that was not going to happen to him. Marriage with an Imperial princess was a great honour, it would bolster his position at Court. Was it possible that Emperor Alexios had changed his mind?

Turning his back on the polo field and the turreted wall that protected the Great Palace from both sea and invasion, Nikolaos began walking towards the stables. Elias and Hermes kept pace. ‘It is odd, though,’ Nikolaos said, raking a hand through windswept brown hair, ‘you would think that His Majesty would have mentioned any concerns he has over my marriage arrangements when I was asked to organise the polo tournament.’

‘Didn’t he confirm that your marriage was to go ahead shortly after he was crowned?’

‘He did, he did indeed. Why, then, is the Princess so elusive?’

‘I do not know, my lord. Perhaps she really is unwell.’

‘Or a reluctant bride,’ Nikolaos said. ‘Think about it. First, she refused to return to Constantinople when the old emperor summoned her from Rascia, and when she does return, she hides away like a nun.’

‘You should give her the benefit of the doubt—she could really be unwell, my lord.’

Nikolaos gave Elias a straight look; he and his manservant had been together since Nikolaos was a boy and there was a strong bond of affection between them. Nikolaos could discuss anything with him. Nikolaos’s gut tightened—well, almost anything. ‘I have been giving her the benefit of the doubt for some days,’ he said, drily. ‘It occurs to me that Princess Theodora has no wish to marry.’

‘You cannot assume that, my lord.’

‘True. I am ready for this wedding to take place, Elias, but if my bride is reluctant?’ Nikolaos grimaced. ‘Lord, no.’

Nikolaos wanted this marriage. It would signal to the world that he was firmly ensconced with the new regime. And he wanted it soon, before anyone else got wind of his mother’s unexpected confession.

I am illegitimate.

The man Nikolaos had always thought of as his father was the late Governor of Larissa, Governor Gregorios. But according to his mother, Lady Verina, Gregorios was not his father. Nikolaos had received his mother’s confession as something of a body blow; her marriage to Gregorios of Larissa had seemed blissfully happy. They had been the perfect, loving couple with Governor Gregorios idolising his wife. And Nikolaos would have sworn the affection had not been one-sided, his mother had given every appearance of adoring her husband in return. The intense grief she had displayed at his death could not have been mere pretence. And yet …

I am illegitimate. I have no blood ties with Governor Gregorios.

Dear God, better men than he had their careers wrecked because of their birth. That would not happen to him.

‘Will you ask His Majesty for another bride, my lord?’

‘I may have to, if Princess Theodora continues to show reluctance.’ Nikolaos sighed and ran his hand round the back of the neck. In view of his mother’s confession, he needed this marriage more than ever, but … a reluctant bride? No.

‘Your mother will be disappointed. She was delighted when you were chosen for the Princess.’

Nikolaos felt his face stiffen, it was hard to keep the anger from his voice. ‘Naturally my mother would be pleased. Such a marriage would appease her conscience, if she has one.’

Elias frowned. ‘You have had a disagreement with Lady Verina?’

Nikolaos let out a bitter laugh. ‘You might put it like that.’

‘My lord, I thought—’

Nikolaos silenced Elias with a look. ‘Yes, old friend, you are right. My mother was delighted. I never thought we’d hear the end of it. But I will not marry a reluctant bride, however highborn.’

‘Duke Nikolaos?’

‘Mmm?’

‘If the Princess continues hiding away, will you ask Emperor Alexios to release her from the betrothal?’

Hermes clattered across the paving stones as they passed through a fountained courtyard. Water jetted from the mouths of a shoal of bronze fish; rainbows shimmered in the spray. ‘I am undecided. It was the previous Emperor who gifted her to me. If Princess Theodora really does prove reluctant, it should be easy enough to persuade His Majesty to give me another bride.’ He smiled at Elias. ‘I shall give the Princess until this afternoon to respond. Come, let’s get to the stables, Hermes needs a rubdown and that girth needs checking.’

‘Yes, my lord.’

That afternoon, Elias carried a third message to Princess Theodora’s apartment in the Boukoleon Palace. When he came away, he knew exactly where to find his master. Duke Nikolaos had told him he would be in one of the saddlers’ workshops outside the Palace walls.

The saddlers’ workshops were clustered together in a narrow street that cut away from the Mese—Middle Street—the main street of the City. Sure enough, Hercules, the Duke’s black warhorse, was tethered outside, next to an animal usually assigned to one of the grooms. Entering the workshop, Elias nodded at the groom and leaned against a wall to wait for the Duke to conclude his business.

‘But, General—’ the saddler’s voice was high and tight, his fingers shook as he examined the girth ‘—it is not as though you take this saddle into battle.’

Nikolaos shook his head. ‘You should not underestimate the rigours of the polo field, it’s an important part of training for my officers. Use stronger leather next time. Look—’ he pulled at the offending strap ‘—see here?’

‘That’s a natural flaw, General, part of the animal’s skin. You can’t avoid natural flaws.’

‘Nonsense! Even an untrained eye could see that this section of leather is weak. It should have been discarded. It has no place in a saddle of this quality—of any quality, come to think of it. Serious injuries can be caused by workmanship like this. If it happens again, I shall take my custom elsewhere. And I shall certainly ensure that the officers in my regiment know to avoid your merchandise. That said, I am sure you’ll put it right …’

‘Yes, General.’ The saddler flushed dark red. ‘My apologies, it shall not happen again.’

Nodding at the man, Nikolaos stepped back into the street and smiled at Elias. ‘Well? I can tell from your face that you had no luck at the Princess’s apartment.’

‘No, my lord. This afternoon she is apparently a little recovered, but there is no message for you.’

Nikolaos tucked his thumbs into his belt. ‘Does the total lack of response strike you as odd, Elias?’ The Princess might be reluctant, but surely she would have to be gravely ill to ignore so many messages from the man to whom she had been betrothed?

‘My lord?’

The skin was prickling at the back of Nikolaos’s neck. It was the sort of prickling he usually had on the eve of battle. His instincts were trying to warn him … of what? Danger. Danger to him? No, he did not sense that the danger was to him. To the Princess? That did not seem possible, yet his instincts had not let him down before.

He looked at the groom. ‘My thanks, Paul, that is all. I shall walk back. Take Hercules back to his stall, would you? Elias, you are with me.’

‘Yes, my lord.’

‘Something’s wrong,’ Nikolaos murmured, once the groom had taken the horses and was well out of earshot. He followed the route the groom had taken, turning into the street that led past the Hippodrome, back to the Palace.

‘I agree,’ Elias said. ‘It seems extraordinary that after sending several messages, you have received no response from Princess Theodora.’

The walls of the Palace loomed over them. ‘The former Emperor appeared keen, even eager, to promote my marriage to Princess Theodora,’ Nikolaos murmured, thinking aloud.

Elias, probably realising that this remark did not require a response, said nothing.

Nikolaos let his thoughts run on, thoughts which he was well aware a few weeks ago would have bordered on treasonous. He had not held the previous Emperor in high regard. Emperor Nikephoros had been weak and ineffective—unscrupulous courtiers had wasted no time in manipulating him. With little strength of will, and almost no understanding of military matters, the man had made a disastrous head of state. Which was why Nikolaos had supported Alexios Komnenos in his bid for the throne. The Empire needed a strong hand at the reins.

With regard to his marriage to Princess Theodora, Nikolaos had been led to believe that Emperor Alexios would honour the arrangement made by his predecessor.

The guards at the Palace gate jumped to attention, saluting as they passed through and entered the first of the courtyards.

‘What will you do, my lord?’

‘I have had enough of delays and evasions.’ Nikolaos grinned at Elias. ‘I shall visit the Princess’s apartment myself.’

Elias flung him a startled look. ‘You would go to the women’s quarters in person, my lord?’

Nikolaos lifted his shoulders. ‘Why not?’

Elias began to splutter. ‘But, my lord, you cannot … not the women’s quarters! They … they are sacrosanct … only a close relative may enter … and the Princess … a cousin of the Empress …’

Smiling, Nikolaos waited for his manservant to stutter to a halt which he did, with a final ‘My lord, you cannot visit the women’s quarters, particularly not those of the Princess.’

Nikolaos sighed. ‘Elias, these days it is almost impossible to gain an audience with His Majesty. Ever since the coronation, he has either been deeply involved in affairs of state, or else he is doing penance for seizing the throne.’

‘I had heard about the penance. Forty days of fasting and sackcloth and ashes.’ Elias pulled a face. ‘How much of the penance is left?’

‘A little over three weeks. The polo tournament comes towards the end of it. Until then, it is possible to arrange an audience with His Majesty only for the most pressing of matters. I must resolve the question of my marriage myself.’ Niko gestured ahead of him. ‘Lead on, Elias, I am hazy about which staircase leads where in the Boukoleon.’

‘My lord, you do recall that Princess Theodora’s apartment is watched over by Varangian Guards?’

Nikolaos lifted a brow. ‘I remember. And I am sure they have sworn allegiance to Emperor Alexios and are as loyal as they have always been. As I am. May I remind you that my own regiment supported His Majesty? I doubt I will be questioned.’

‘Yes, my lord, I know. But … but … she is a princess.’

By now Nikolaos and Elias had left several courtyards behind them and had passed the stables and the lighthouse. An imposing building rose before them, with walls like cliffs. The Boukoleon Palace. On the upper levels, Nikolaos could see the stone balustrades where terraces overlooked the gardens and courtyards. On the other side of the Boukoleon, the balconies looked out over the Sea of Marmara.

Nikolaos and Elias reached a columned portico where a broad flight of marble stairs led upwards. ‘The women’s quarters, Elias?’

His manservant’s throat worked. ‘This way, my lord.’

Some hours earlier, Theodora’s galley had docked at the Imperial harbour. By the time the sun began to sink, she and her entourage were busy exploring the Princess’s apartment at the top of the Boukoleon Palace.

It was a magnificent apartment and had been reduced to chaos by their arrival. Slaves and servants ran in and out of the great double doors, laden with packing cases and trinket boxes. Others bore ewers of water and linen cloths. Trays of refreshments were set out on side-tables for travel-worn ladies. There was something to suit all palates—goblets of wine; milk sweetened with honey; cold meats and soft cheeses; shelled hazelnuts, almond cakes, dates. The gleaming marble floor was hidden under untidy heaps of baggage; ladies’ cloaks were strewn over gilded chairs, across inlaid tables and painted screens. Braziers had been lit to lift the chill from the air; and there, on another side-table, perfumed smoke wreathed from a golden globe—roses and the rich scent of incense mingled with the slight tang of salt blown in from the sea.

The time had come for Theodora to end the deception. She must stop pretending to be a lady-in-waiting and become, once again, Princess Theodora Doukaina. The transition from lady-in-waiting to Princess would be tricky, though. There was much to take account of … sins both real and assumed.

‘It is time, Sophia,’ Theodora murmured as they stood in the light of a large window.

Martina was held fast in Sophia’s arms. Filmy purple drapes hung from ceiling to floor, silk hangings that shifted in the breeze coming off the Sea of Marmara. Imperial purple. Theodora bit her lip as guilt rushed through her. Theodora had not herself been ‘born in the purple’. This meant that she had not been born in the Purple Chamber, the great birthing room in the Palace that was lined with purple marble and set aside for the confinement of an Empress. Notwithstanding this, she had been allocated this wonderful apartment decorated with the Imperial purple. It was a great honour.

It is an honour I do not deserve, I was not born in the Purple Chamber. Worse, I have deceived everyone. Worse still, I have every intention of continuing to deceive them.

Theodora was as heavily veiled as a Princess of Persia, her gown was voluminous and hid her shape. Until she had successfully reclaimed her place as Princess Theodora Doukaina, she would have to go on hiding behind shawls and veils. Until she found Katerina, the maidservant she had sent on ahead to impersonate her, she must continue to conceal her identity.

Theodora and Katerina were completely unrelated and it was by chance that they might be taken for twins. They had the same dark hair, the same dark eyes, the same slight frame. Some of the ladies had said the Princess and her maidservant were as alike in features and build as two peas in a pod. And until Theodora was once again in her own shoes, until she knew what had been happening in the Palace in the past few weeks, she was not prepared to be seen by anyone save her ladies.

But, Holy Mother, what a mire she had walked into! Katerina seemed to have vanished and so, too, had Lady Anna of Heraklea. Lady Anna was the lady-in-waiting Theodora had sent to accompany Katerina. Theodora had charged Lady Anna with ensuring Katerina had everything she needed to convince the Court that it was she who was Princess Theodora Doukaina.

‘Where do you think Katerina and Anna have got to, Sophia?’ she asked, conscious of the Varangian Guard standing by the great polished doors, watching them. She edged away from him. ‘Why is that guard staring at us? Do you think he knows where they are?’

Sophia gave the Varangian a surreptitious glance. ‘You are imagining it, he is simply curious to see the Princess’s ladies. I do not think it is more than that.’

‘I wish I could agree with you. Where are Katerina and Anna? Why aren’t they here?’

‘The guard mentioned they were visiting friends.’

‘Which friends?’

‘He refused to say.’

‘Why? Why would he not say?’

‘Perhaps he does not know.’

Theodora sighed. ‘Perhaps. Lord, it would have been better if Katerina and Anna had kept themselves to the apartment.’ She rearranged her veil, making sure the guard could only catch a glimpse of her. In Rascia, she had received many comments about the uncanny resemblance between herself and Katerina. It would not do for someone here to look too closely. Not yet.

My deception must not be discovered, the transition must happen smoothly, Martina’s welfare could be at stake.

Theodora reached for her daughter. ‘Let me hold her.’

‘Are you sure, my lady?’ Sophia tipped her head at the watchful Varangian and the army of servants and slaves. ‘There are many eyes here.’

‘Sophia!’ As Theodora took her child, a measure of peace settled over her. Martina gurgled. A chubby hand reached out, pushed Theodora’s veil aside and reached for an earring. Theodora’s heart squeezed. ‘She has her father’s eyes,’ she murmured. ‘Thank heaven we found a suitable wet-nurse—I like Jelena.’

Sophia nodded.

Theodora felt stinging at the back of her eyes. She had enjoyed feeding Martina herself, a sentiment that would surely shock most ladies in the Great Palace, Princesses did not usually feed their babies. But since she had been sent to join the barbarians in Rascia, it would seem she had become something of a barbarian herself. It had been more painful than she cared to admit, handing Martina over to the wet-nurse. It had taken time. Weaning Martina had been as painful physically as it had been emotionally. Theodora’s breasts had hurt, her heart had ached. The sacrifice had been necessary though, no one at Court must suspect that she had borne a child.

Setting her jaw, she stared out of the window, out past the Palace Harbour to the Sea of Marmara. The sea was as grey as the sky. Ships were sailing past the promontory—merchantmen, dromons, rowing boats. Seagulls were circling a fishing boat; she could hear their thin mewing.

‘The lions and oxen are still there,’ Sophia said. ‘I had forgotten about them.’

‘Hmm?’

‘The statues on the Imperial quays. I had forgotten how impressive they are, like sentinels.’

‘It is certainly a change from Rascia,’ Theodora said, wistfully. She caught a flutter of gold, a couple of galleys were flying the Imperial standard. The same flag was flying on the towers on either side of the entrance to the Palace Harbour and the double-headed eagle was plainly visible on both of them. There was no doubt of it, she was home. She sighed and wished she did not feel so torn. The coup had changed everything.

What will I say if I am summoned to meet Emperor Alexios? It was one thing to have planned to deceive a weak and ageing Emperor, but Emperor Alexios was strong and in his prime. Intelligent. God save me.

Sophia was fingering the delicate purple curtains. ‘I have never seen such hangings, my lady, all silk. Everything in your apartment is silk, silk and marble.’

‘This apartment is not mine,’ Theodora reminded her quietly. ‘Not until I have reclaimed my identity.’

She risked another look at the Varangian by the doors. He had stood at his post like a rock since their arrival. His gaze was alert. Too alert. Several ladies had returned with her to the Palace, but it was she whom he was focused on. He has noted the resemblance between me and Katerina. ‘That man knows exactly where Katerina and Anna are, and I would swear he knows who I am, too. Why will he not answer our questions?’ Anxiety clawed her insides. ‘Do you think they are safe and well? Do you think they have been found out? Arrested?’

‘Sweet Mary, I hope not.’

‘Then where are they? I took pains to tell them to be discreet until we arrived. I shall never forgive myself if they have come to harm, but I had to wean Martina on to the wet-nurse, I had to—’ she broke off as the guard’s gaze never wavered.

Enclosing Martina’s tiny hand in hers, Theodora pulled her veil across her face and presented the Varangian with her back. She was on the point of handing Martina back to Sophia when there was a disturbance at the entrance.

The shining double doors were flung wide. The guard stood firmly in the centre, feet braced as he challenged someone out on the landing.

‘I am sorry, General,’ the Varangian said. ‘You may not enter these chambers—they are assigned to Princess Theodora.’

‘I am aware of that.’ The newcomer’s voice was cultured. ‘Why do you think I have been sending messages here these past few days?’

Theodora froze. She could not see the man on the landing clearly—the doorframe blocked full view of him—but she caught the impression of height. He sounded confident, even arrogant. A jewelled sword-hilt flashed, a gold ring gleamed on a strong, well-shaped hand. Oh, no! If this man was permitted to bear arms in the Palace, he must be trusted indeed. And for him to have been sending messages to the Princess’s apartment, he must be …

‘Duke Nikolaos,’ Sophia hissed. ‘It must be your general.’

Theodora’s heart started to race. If it was Duke Nikolaos, he was breaking with the conventions by coming in person to an apartment in the women’s quarters. She was not prepared to meet him. And yet … curiosity flared into being, undeniable curiosity … What did he look like? If she were careful …

Martina firmly in her arms, Theodora went to the door. It might not be Duke Nikolaos, she told herself, it might be that this man was one in a long line of courtiers who had come to pay his respects to the Princess. Katerina could simply be hiding away because she had been overwhelmed by the part she had been asked to play.

The man was tall and broad-shouldered. He had strong features and a Roman nose that would not have looked out of place on an ancient coin. His hair was thick and dark and in need of a trim. Theodora received the impression of much energy, energy that was barely contained. He had a faintly disreputable air, despite the patrician profile. His jaw was square and he had high cheekbones. Bold, dark eyes.

Noticing her looking at him, he smiled. His teeth were white and even, the smile practised.

Theodora’s belly lurched. She had time to notice a small scar beneath one of those dark eyes. She had time to notice how good-looking he was—if you found dark men who ought to have visited a barber a week since attractive. Which she, of course, did not. She had time to notice his clothes. They were those of a nobleman. His tunic was olive-coloured samite, a heavy silk, lavishly embroidered in silver and gold thread. Theodora’s gaze lingered on his sword. The grip was leather, the pommel was gold and set with an emerald of exceptional clarity. The sword looked like a dress sword, but the wear on the grip warned that this sword was more than mere ornament. This man might be dressed as a nobleman, but he was clearly more warrior than courtier.

Duke Nikolaos of Larissa, General of the Athanatoi Cavalry regiment—the famous Immortals—Commander-in-Chief of the Imperial Army. He had come to the very doors of her apartment. Captain Brand had been correct—the coup had brought the Duke racing back from Larissa in support of his fellow general, Alexios Komnenos, now Emperor.

Mouth dry, Theodora lifted her gaze. Dark eyes were fixed on her, the intensity of his gaze was vaguely unsettling. He inclined his head.

‘My lady?’ He glanced briefly at the baby in Theodora’s arms. ‘I take it you are one of the Princess’s ladies-in-waiting?’ His voice had a thread of steel running through it; it was the voice of a man who had the habit of command, of a man whose commands were always obeyed. And his mouth, now she looked at it, was held in a tight line. The veneer of politeness was thin in this man, his manner was verging on insolent.

Theodora ignored the frantic tug Sophia gave to her sleeve and her murmur of protest; she was not going to retreat. ‘Please take the child,’ she said, placing her daughter in Sophia’s arms. Secure in the knowledge that her veil was wrapped tightly about her and that only her eyes were showing, she turned back to the man in the doorway. ‘My lord? You are addressing me?’

The dark eyes sharpened, her tone had been too peremptory. A lady-in-waiting, as she was purporting to be, would never address a nobleman in such a tone. Certainly not before she found out who he was.

‘Yes, you.’ Shouldering the startled Varangian to one side, he occupied the doorway. ‘Where is your mistress?’ His tone moderated. ‘I have been trying to arrange an audience with the Princess for some days, but I have been told she is ailing. I trust she is not seriously ill?’

Theodora gave him a diplomatic smile. Cool, formal, and slightly distant. She would not let him annoy her. ‘Princess Theodora is, as I am sure you have already been told, not receiving guests today. I will, however, ensure your message reaches her. May I know to whom I am speaking?’

He bowed, and as he did so Theodora couldn’t help but notice how his mouth had eased as she answered him. His lips twitched. As though he were laughing at her! ‘I am Duke Nikolaos of Larissa and I am entirely at your disposal, my lady. And you are …?’

It was Duke Nikolaos. Inclining her head to hide the rush of emotion—this was the man her uncle had decreed she must marry—Theodora affected not to have heard his question. ‘Please come back tomorrow, my lord.’

He looked her up and down. Theodora was confident her veil was still in place, so why had she to resist the urge to adjust it? Thankfully, he wouldn’t see much of her. Just her eyes. With luck, he would assume he was speaking to one of the more modest of Theodora’s ladies. She stared at the toes of her slippers as though her life depended on it. She could not let him study her, lest when he met her as Princess Theodora, he realised that she was the same woman who had told him the Princess was not yet well enough to meet him.

This man is a commander, a general of the Imperial Army. I must say as little as possible. Duke Nikolaos had an air of ruthlessness about him, a man such as this would not hesitate to dispense with Palace protocols if it suited him. That he had come to the apartment in person proved it. This man is dangerous.

Theodora effaced herself, backing away, her gaze fixed on the marble floor tiles. For the first time in her life she was grateful for the rigid rules and conventions set up to protect unmarried women. Even as she prayed they would keep him at arm’s length, an odd thrill of uncertainty shivered through her. Protocols mean nothing to this man, he is a rule-breaker.

She retreated with Sophia into a room that opened out from the reception chamber and overheard him exchanging remarks with the guard. When she looked back, the great double doors were closed, Duke Nikolaos had gone.

Martina began to whimper. ‘It is time she was fed,’ Theodora said.

‘I will take her to Jelena,’ Sophia said. ‘One moment.’

Theodora found herself standing alone in the large bedchamber. It was so lavishly appointed that her jaw had dropped when she had first arrived at the apartment and seen it. A huge bed filled much of the space, liberally festooned with mulberry hangings. There was yard after yard of gold braid and fringing; there were silk mulberry sheets, gold and mulberry-coloured cushions. Marble-topped tables were set against the walls; there were golden basins and ewers; there, on the floor, was one of the travelling chests she had given to Katerina to help her play her part as Princess.

This is my bedchamber, or it will be when I am Princess Theodora Doukaina once more. Her heart missed its beat. If I marry Duke Nikolaos, that bed is where we will consummate our marriage.

The great bed was a world away from her bed at the Rascian Court. In Rascia, Theodora had had her own chamber, as befitted a Princess of the Empire, but her bed there had been very different to this one. The bed in which she and Peter had loved each other had been furnished with plain linens, not silks and damasks and …

The air shifted behind her, Sophia had returned.

‘Martina is feeding well, my lady, she … Good Heavens,’ Sophia said faintly, looking at the bed.

‘Quite.’

‘What are you going to do?’

Theodora glanced at the door and lowered her voice. ‘First, I shall reclaim my identity. I shall make that Varangian tell us where Katerina and Anna have gone. And then I shall once again be Princess Theodora Doukaina.’

‘Will you marry him?’

Theodora stared at the mulberry-draped bed in the centre of the chamber and bit her lip. Marry that handsome, ruthless-looking stranger? ‘Only if I have to.’