Viking Passion (35 page)

“Sleep well,” he added.

“You are weary too,” Lenora said, too
stubborn to give up and go away quietly. She was rewarded by an
exasperated look from Eirena, who started to say something before
Erik interrupted her.

“It doesn’t matter. I have much to say to
Eirena. I’ll see you both tomorrow.”

Annoyed, Lenora followed the servant to the
chamber appointed for herself and Maura. There she lay in a soft
bed and fumed as the night crept slowly by.

She had known all along, ever since she had
first heard of the woman’s existence, that Eirena wanted Erik. Now
that she had seen them together, she was certain of it. She
imagined Eirena pressed into Erik’s arms, her dark head barely
reaching his chest.

No, Erik would never do such a thing. He had
said he wanted her, Lenora. Still, Eirena was obviously clever,
and, Lenora suspected, also devious.

She had to see Erik, to feel his reassuring
arms around her. She slipped out of bed, being careful not to
disturb Maura, and went to the door. The corridor outside was
empty, lit by a few oil lamps in ornate dishes. She did not know
where Erik’s room was, but she would find it. She took a few
tentative steps along the corridor.

A hand caught at her arm. With a stifled
scream, Lenora stopped. A man in a simple servant’s tunic stood
before her. Lenora recognized the elderly Spyros.

“Where are you going?” he asked.

“To find my friend Erik.”

“You must stay in your room. I am to guard
your door. I will be punished if you leave.”

“I don’t need a guard.” Lenora drew herself
up and faced Spyros proudly. “I order you to take me to Erik,” she
commanded.

“Lady, I dare not.”

“What is this noise?” Eirena appeared from a
door a short distance down the hall, looking angry. She was wrapped
in a cream wool shawl, and her curly black hair tumbled over her
shoulders in disarray. “How dare you disturb my household at this
late hour?”

“I want to see Erik,” Lenora told her.

“In the middle of the night? You should be
ashamed of yourself. No respectable woman would go to a man’s room
after dark.”

“In Denmark, Erik and I lived together,”
Lenora told her boldly, “and I saw him whenever I wanted.”

Eirena went pale.

“I am shocked that you would admit such a
thing publicly,” she said, “but I knew from your manners you were a
loose woman. You are too familiar with Erik, and you are too
outspoken. I would never allow you to stay here, except that Erik
wishes it.”

“I want to see him.”

Eirena smiled, a maddening, distinctly
superior smile.

“He is sleeping,” she said, but did not say
where.

After a few moments’ silence, during which
Lenora choked back both anger and tears, Eirena, apparently pleased
with the effect her words had created, spoke to the manservant.

“Take this woman to her room. She is to stay
there until morning.”

There was nothing Lenora could do, for in
spite of his age, Spyros was clearly stronger than she.

She crawled back into bed beside Maura and
lay there, so furious with Eirena that she was unaware of the tears
streaming across her cheeks and onto the silken embroidered
pillow.

It was noon of the following day before the
women were allowed to leave their room. When she asked for Erik,
Lenora was told he had gone out. She believed Eirena was trying to
keep them apart.

Lenora was totally baffled by Eirena’s
behavior. The woman acted as though their confrontation of the
night before had never happened. She was, in her stiff, distant
way, pleasant to both her guests, finding more of her old clothes
for them to wear, speaking easily of her life as mistress of her
brother’s house, even advising Lenora how to paint her face.

“Is it true you saved Erik’s life?” Maura
asked.

“Yes,” Eirena answered. “Basil has a villa
outside the city, on the Bosporus, where we go to escape the summer
heat. He was away from home when the Rus made their unexpected
attack. After they had been driven off and a great storm sent by
heaven to protect us had wrecked many of their ships, they sailed
back to their own country. The next morning I found Erik washed
ashore at the edge of our garden. I was certain he would die, but
he lived in spite of his grave injuries.”

“I’m surprised you didn’t turn him over to
the government as a prisoner. That would be the proper thing to do,
wouldn’t it?” Lenora said with acid in her voice.

Eirena ignored the sarcasm. “It is our
Christian duty to care for the sick and injured,” was her bland
reply. “Basil was angry with me when he returned home and found
Erik in the villa, but he soon grew to like Erik. My brother has a
great many important friends in our government bureaucracy, so he
was able to make arrangements with the authorities for Erik to
return to the city with us at summer’s end. Erik stayed here with
us for three years. Together, he and Basil were instrumental in
devising the new trade agreements with the Rus.”

“From which your brother has profited a great
deal,” Lenora added.

“Of course; that was their purpose.” Eirena
smiled.

Lenora was quickly bored in the rich
seclusion of the Panopoulos house. She missed the easy freedom of
her former existence. Only her brief stay in Attair’s house had
been as restrictive as the cloistered luxury from which she now
suffered.

Adding to her feelings of confinement were
the armed guards who watched over the house. There were always one
or two in the entrance hall, usually one outside the front door,
and others placed throughout the house. She later learned two of
these men always accompanied Basil when he went out.

“They are necessary for our safety. My
brother is a wealthy man and many are envious of him,” Eirena told
her. “Basil also needs protection when he has business to transact
with the barbarian merchants from the north and east.”

Lenora thought with some amusement that
fabled Miklagard, even with its strong walls, was no safer than the
northlands Eirena so scathingly called barbaric.

She saw little of Erik, and never alone. He
seemed to be out a great deal on what Eirena vaguely described as
“business,” and when he was present Eirena monopolized the
conversation.

Lenora did learn from the servants that Erik
had been ordered to present himself to the Bureau of Barbarians.
When she expressed concern about this, Eirena only smiled and shook
her head.

“You don’t understand at all,” she said, as
though Lenora were a foolish child. “Our government needs to know
everything it can learn about the barbarians who surround us. How
else can we deal with them? They come in great numbers to our city,
and the police must know what to expect of them, how to control
them. Some day we may even convert them to Christianity. How
marvelous that would be.”

Regardless of Eirena’s complacency, Lenora
remained concerned until Erik had safely returned from his
interview.

“There was nothing to worry about,” he told
her. “They only wanted to know about trade in Kiev. Once I had
mentioned Basil’s name, they treated me very well.”

“You see,” Eirena said with a smile that
plainly indicated just how silly she thought Lenora was, “I told
you so earlier. You don’t understand us, Lenora. We are different
from you northerners.”

“I want to see the city,” Lenora declared one
afternoon when she and Maura sat in the courtyard with Eirena. “I
have come so far and heard so much about Miklagard, and I have
scarcely seen anything at all.”

Eirena was scandalized. “No virtuous woman
would show her face to a stranger,” she said piously.

“Don’t you ever go out?” Lenora asked,
incredulous. “Don’t you want to see what is happening beyond the
walls of this house? Wouldn’t you like to travel and learn
something of the world?”

“The best of everything in the world is here
in Constantinople,” Eirena responded. “I cannot imagine why anyone
would want to leave it. We have our villa on the Bosporus, and I go
there each summer. That is far enough from the Holy City.”

“But your menfolk must travel, to trade. Erik
has told me of all the merchandise that comes here from all over
the world, and I have seen a little of the bazaar.”

“The merchandise is brought to us. There is
no reason for any of us to leave Greece, and those who do –
soldiers on campaign, for instance, or the governors of foreign
provinces – always long to return home. This city is the center of
the world.” Eirena folded her hands complacently.

“You must feel very secure here,” Maura
observed. “This house looks safe, and the city walls are so
strong.”

“No one could ever imagine conquering us.”
Eirena laughed. “We are invulnerable to any attack.”

“The Rus besieged you once,” Lenora reminded
her.

“Their attempt failed.” Eirena’s placid
confidence remained unshaken.

Lenora secretly resolved to speak to Erik.
She was sure she could cajole him into taking her about the city,
if only she could see him alone.

But she had no chance to do this before Basil
returned home. There was a flurry of activity one afternoon, and
one of the servants came to tell her and Maura to wear their best
clothes to meet the master of the house at dinner.

They dressed in the best they had, Maura in a
cream silk gown embroidered with red and gold roses. It was
ridiculously short at ankle and wrists, but it set off her flaming
red hair, which she had tied back with a ribbon, disdaining the
ornate Byzantine hairstyles. Adequate sleep and plenty of food had
done wonders for Maura. She was still timid, fearful that Snorri
would somehow find her, but she looked better than Lenora had ever
seen her.

Lenora had a gown of iridescent silk that
shimmered now green, now gold as the light caught it. Two wide
embroidered bands of gold ran down the front of the dress on either
side, and a matching belt cinched her waist. Her chestnut hair was
still streaked with gold from her long days in the sun, her skin
glowing rosy-tan. She painted her face with new-found skill, then
bound her hair into a loose knot, letting the errant curls straggle
free about her face. Lenora saw her image in the silver hand mirror
Eirena had given her guests and knew she looked beautiful. Eirena’s
unkind comments about her tanned complexion meant nothing.

It was not usual for a merchant in Byzantine
Constantinople to become wealthy. The government placed too many
restrictions on trade and levied too many harsh taxes to pay for
the luxurious Imperial Court and the military aspirations – and
occasional military follies – of the Byzantine Emperors. Basil
Panopoulos was an exception to the usual.

Basil had been clever enough to see the
possibilities of doing business with the Rus, those wild, fur-clad
men from the far north who, eight years earlier, had attacked
Constantinople and then had begun trading with her. Basil did not
hold the northerners in the same haughty disdain as did some of his
fellow merchants. With the rescued Erik as willing interpreter,
Basil had been among the first to deal with the Rus. Soon he was
very rich.

It was not wise to flaunt one’s wealth. The
spies of the government bureaucracy were everywhere, and not only
exorbitant fines but public flogging and unpleasant forms of
capital punishment were meted out to those who disobeyed
regulations. Basil was careful. His two houses, though beautifully
decorated, were not extravagant. His way of life was circumspect,
his attendance at church services regular, his payment of taxes
prompt but not too prompt, his donations to Orthodox monasteries
and churches exactly what would be expected, almost to the last
gold solidus.

His sister Eirena guessed at Basil’s fortune,
but her guess fell far short of the reality. Eirena well knew her
brother was rich and that she would never want for any material
thing. If she wished, she could make a good marriage, with a
handsome dowry, but Basil would not press her to do so. He liked
having Eirena in his house, running it efficiently and providing
just the degree of sisterly companionship that was all he needed at
the end of a busy day. Basil had never married and was not
interested in the various recreations and vices that his native
city offered. His nature cautious to a fault, Basil was content
with the quiet, private way of life the Orthodox Church recommended
to its adherents. His work was his principal interest. Or it was,
until the day he returned home from a trip to Thessalonica to learn
his old friend Erik had returned from the north lands, bringing
with him two strange women.

Basil was in his middle thirties. He was
short, with brown eyes and curly brown hair carefully combed to
cover a growing bald spot. He looked remarkably like his sister,
but there was in him a restless energy that Eirena lacked.

Lenora noticed this at once. Basil prowled
about the room, never lighting anywhere for long. When he did sit
he crossed his legs and constantly swung his lower leg back and
forth. His hands moved expressively when he talked.

He wore a brilliant orange-red tunic and a
wide jeweled belt. He had several gold rings. He wore the heavy
perfume favored by Greek men, but just enough of it to leave a
pleasant fragrance behind him when he moved.

He was a congenial host, talking constantly
on many subjects, asking questions of his guests, helping them to
the various dishes of a splendid feast, of fish stew, two kinds of
roast fowl with eggplant and artichokes, and fine white bread and
the best wine from Chios, followed by sweetmeats and raisins. But
there was something wrong, some underlying tension that grew during
the evening between Basil and Erik, which Lenora could not
ignore.

The women left the dining room shortly after
the meal was finished, Eirena announcing in a tone permitting no
opposition that they would now retire for the night.