The two men released her arms and dragged the lifeless Anna and Basil from the room. Adora was left alone with her captor.

She backed away from him, and he laughed. “There’s no place to run, Theadora. But you are right to fear me. I am not an easy man to please. But somehow,” his voice became soft, “I think you’ll please me well. Come and give me a kiss now. I must see to my men before we can take our ease. Who is to criticize if we celebrate the wedding night before the wedding? Rulers, after all, set the fashions.”

Wordlessly she shook her head, but the general simply laughed. “A shy widow? It speaks well of your virtue, Theadora, and that, too, pleases me.” He reached out and drew her struggling body to him. His chain mail cut her breasts, and she cried out. Ignoring her, he pressed his open mouth on her lips and thrust his tongue into her mouth. She gagged at the taste of sour wine and garlic. His mouth was wet and slimy, and his lips moved swiftly to race over her shrinking breasts. One arm about her waist, he bent her body this way and that as suited him, his other huge paw clasping one of her buttocks, kneading it more frantically as his excitement grew. She fought harder and, to her growing horror, felt his engorged maleness butting against her thigh. He laughed huskily. “Would that I could bury my giant’s spear in you right now, Theadora. But alas, duty first. That is why I am a good general.” He released her so suddenly that she fell to the rug. “Yes,” he murmured, “that is a woman’s place-at a man’s feet. I will be back shortly, my bride. Do not grow overeager,” he laughed uproariously as he left the room.

She did not know how long she lay there, but suddenly she felt a gentle touch on her shoulder. Raising her head, she stared into the blue eyes of a Byzantine captain of the Imperial Guard. He put a finger to his lips to indicate silence, then helped her up. He wrapped a dark cloak about her swiftly and led her through the terrace doors. They ran through the gardens, down the terrace steps, and onto the beach where the silent captain lifted her into a waiting boat.

In total silence he rowed out into the dark of the imperial yacht basin. Theadora saw a ship looming in the blackness. It showed no lights. The small boat bumped the sides of the ship softly, and the captain noiselessly shipped the oars. He pointed to a rope ladder hanging from the ship. Silently Theadora climbed up into the dark and was lifted over the ship’s rail. Her rescuer came up behind her. Taking her hand, he led her to a large cabin. Inside, he checked to be sure the porthole was covered, then lit a small lamp.

“Welcome aboard, Princess Theadora. Captain Paulus Simonides of the Imperial Guard, at your service.”

The cold night air had cleared her head and she had lost her fear. “How came you here, captain, in time to rescue me? I cannot believe in that kind a fate.”

The captain laughed. God, she was beautiful. Even more so than Helena. And intelligent, too. “The empress was informed by an old friend in the Office of Barbarians of General Asen’s impending attack on your city. She was also informed that he had with him a great magician from Cathay, one who could open even great doors of bronze-doors like your city gates. She dispatched me at once to aid you, should you need it. I regret I was not sooner, Highness. When I arrived the general was already in your room, and I had to wait until I was sure he was gone.”

Theadora nodded. “I have no clothes, not even shoes.”

“In the trunk, Highness. The empress has been quite thorough.”

“Helena is always quite thorough, captain,” replied Theadora dryly.

The captain bowed. “By your leave, Highness,” he said, backing out the cabin door. Once outside, he chuckled. The princess had wit as well as intelligence and beauty. Perhaps he would attempt to become her lover. If she were also as passionate, uninhibited, and inventive as Helena, then God had truly created the perfect woman.

Mesembria was in flames. Watching by the rail, Paulus marveled. The empress’s hatred of one woman had destroyed a whole city, and the princess wasn’t even aware of it. He wondered what fate Helena had in store for her sister, but then he shrugged. That was not his business. He had done his job and the empress would be pleased. Especially when he told her of the general’s intention to marry the princess. He had rescued her just in time.

When the vessel docked in the yacht basin of the Boucoleon Palace several days later, Helena was waiting eagerly. Unknowing onlookers attributed her excitement to relief and joy at her sister’s successful escape from the fallen city The truth was far different. Soon…soon… thought Helena exultantly. Soon I shall be free of her forever!

Enfolding Theadora to her ample bosom, the empress said, “Thank God and the blessed Maria that you’re safe!”

Theadora pulled away from her sister. One perfect eyebrow arched, she said calmly, “Come now, Helena, I think I fear your concern more than truthful wrath.”

Helena laughed in spite of herself. Sometimes Thea’s quick tongue was amusing. “We may not always like each other, Thea,” she replied, “but you are my sister.”

“And now that you have me safe, Helena, what comes next?”

“That is up to you, sister. Your husbands all seem to have such brief lives. Perhaps it would be better if you rested for a time before you chose another mate.”

“I shall never marry again, Helena.”

“Then you will take lovers.”

“No, sister, I shall not take lovers. No man will ever have me again. After I have rested I shall consider entering the Convent of St. Barbara. There is no life for me without Alexander.”

It was all Helena could do to conceal her joy. It was going to be better even than she had hoped. In Murad’s harem Theadora would suffer the tortures of the damned. It was simply too delicious. Helena nodded soberly. “I thought you might still feel bereaved, Thea, and so I have arranged for you to stay here in the Boucolean Palace rather than come home with me to the Blanchernae, to our noisy court. Will that be satisfactory, or do you prefer the Blanchernae?”

Adora was surprised by Helena’s thoughtfulness. “No, I am content to remain here, Helena. It is not simply Alexander’s death that torments me but the capture of Mesembria by the Bulgars. It was so quick! So devastating! They destroyed in a few hours all the work we had done to restore the city. Work of months!”

“Sister, I would not pain you…but how exactly did Alexander die? The only word we received from your council was of his death.”

Even now Adora knew she dare not tell Helena of Alexander’s trip to Trebizond. “The doctors,” she replied with perfect honesty, “believed that he had a weakness of the heart. His man went to awaken him; and he was dead. Poor Zeno. He was so heartbroken he hanged himself.”

Good! thought Helena. “Did his wife not serve you?”

“Anna? Yes. The Bulgars killed her.”

Excellent! the empress thought to herself. No loose ends. “Ah, sister, surely you have seen enough tragedy to last a lifetime. Rest here. I will come in a few days’ time to see how you are.”

Once again the sisters publicly embraced, then parted. Helena climbed into her barge to be rowed up the Golden Horn to her palace, and Theadora was escorted to her apartments.

For several days Adora abandoned herself to total rest. She slept. She bathed. She ate. She saw only the servants. She spoke to no one except to ask for something. Slowly her mind began to clear.

Several months ago Theadora had been an ecstatic bride, queen of a beautiful and ancient city. She had been a mother again after all these years. Then suddenly she had lost her child and her husband. But at least she had then looked forward to a future as the ruler of Mesembria.

Then suddenly everything in her life was gone. Everything.

The empress allowed her younger sister a week to rest. Twice she sent Adora small gifts: once a silver dish of honeyed dates and figs; then a crystal flacon of perfume. Adora took one sniff and laughingly disposed of that.

Like a spider, Helena spun her wicked web about her unsuspecting sister. Ali Yahya was secretly sent for and a time was arranged for the abduction. The eunuch asked, “She is not with child, is she? If this prince was the stallion you claim, she could well be.”

“No, thank God, else I should have had to arrange an abortion too. No, eunuch, set your mind at ease. She has just finished her show of blood,” replied the empress.

Two hours after midday on the appointed day, Helena, Ali Yahya, and two other eunuchs entered the royal bedchamber in the Boucoleon Palace. They found Theadora sleeping peacefully on the bed. Gently they tied her ankles and wrists together with silken cords and bound a soft gauze handkerchief about her mouth. She was next wrapped in a large, dark, hooded cloak.

The empress opened the secret passageway. Preceded by one eunuch and followed by the other, Ali Yahya picked up Theadora and traveled the length of the passage. They emerged within a few yards of his galley. They boarded the ship quickly, the oars-master began the measured beat that set the pace for the rowers, and they were swiftly out of the little walled harbor and into the Sea of Marmara. A brisk breeze filled their sails and they were soon safely on the other side, back in Turkish territory.

The still unconscious princess was then placed carefully in an awning-covered wagon to begin her journey back to Bursa. There was some daylight left in which to travel, and Ali Yahya was not very surprised to see a troop of imperial Janissaries ride up to escort them. Their captain sought him out and said, “The sultan is encamped but a short distance from here, sir. We are to lead you there.”