Bertrice Small - Adora

He had observed, as the sultan ignored his second wife over the years, that the only outlet for Thamar’s love was her son. Yakub had been taken from his mother at the age of six and brought up in his own court, a strict Muslim one. He respected his mother and even harbored an affection for her, but he did not understand her. She was too intense, and her plots to advance him in the eyes of his father were embarrassing.

Ali Yahya worried about Thamar. Allah only knew what the lonely, embittered, and frustrated woman might do. He had decided to give her a new interest, one who would not only involve her attention, but who would keep him fully informed of her plots.

He had looked for several months for the right person. Thamar was suspicious by nature. He had needed a young man, but not too young. Someone moderately intelligent and trustworthy, but not ambitious.

By chance he had heard of Demetrios, the slave of a wealthy merchant. As his master had aged and grown feeble, Demetrios had taken over his business and run it at a profit for his master. Unfortunately he had also gotten involved with his master’s two bored young wives, for Demetrios hated to see a pretty woman unhappy. When one of the wives discovered that the other was also enjoying the eunuch’s services, she revenged herself by crying “rape” the next time Demetrios visited her. Demetrios was flogged and sent to the slave market by his outraged master. He was to be re-gelded, and then sold.

Fortunately, the slavemaster was taken by Demetrios’ beauty. Re-gelding was seldom successful. If the young man died, which was likely, a handsome profit would be lost. The risk was to the slavemaster, not to the slave owner. The slavemaster had remembered that his old friend, Ali Yahya, was looking for a young eunuch. Ali Yahya came, was impressed, and the bargain was made. Demetrios was so grateful for the gift of his life that he swore to obey Ali Yahya unquestioningly. The sultan’s chief eunuch knew he could trust this new addition to his staff.

Prince Bajazet must be protected at all costs for he was his father’s choice. Prince Yakub, though loyal to his father and older brother, might be tempted by his unhappy mother‘s plots. Thamar must be sidetracked. Demetrios was chosen to do the job.

Paulus was replaced by Demetrios. And, one day, the few female slaves Thamar kept were all replaced by new women. Knowing no differently, these women gave their loyalty to Demetrios.

The sultan’s second wife began to change. The extra pounds she had gained melted away, and her hair became soft and shining again. Demetrios satisfied her physical needs each night.

Though she grew calmer and more content, she could not refrain from plotting. But Demetrios managed to confine Thamar’s schemes to the talk stages. He was worried by her extreme hatred of the sultan’s favorite wife. Thamar could become completely irrational if Theadora’s name were even mentioned. She would rant on and on about her plans to make Adora suffer as she had suffered. Demetrios did not understand this, for Thamar quite frankly admitted that she had never loved Sultan Murad. Why then, this unreasonable hatred for Theadora? This was one thing Demetrios did not report to Ali Yahya.

The young eunuch was truly fond of his mistress. If a humble former fisherman from the province of Morea could dare to love a princess, then Demetrios did. Though Thamar might be her own worst enemy, she now had someone who would protect her from herself.

Prince Andronicus had been imprisoned for several years in the Marble Tower, which was located at the far western end of the city. After his temporary blinding, he had been returned there to languish. His wife was dead, and his one son, John, was being raised in the palace.

He lived comfortably, his servants were pleasant, and he was denied nothing…except women, and his freedom. His world consisted of the rooms in which he lived, though the tower windows gave him a panoramic view of the city, the countryside beyond it, and the sea of Marmara.

He was allowed no visitors for fear he would begin plotting again. No one came in any case, for none of his former friends wished to be identified with a convicted traitor. Andronicus was quite surprised, therefore, to see his mother arrive one afternoon, heavily cloaked, and paying lavish bribes to his guards.

She embraced him excitedly. “The hour of your deliverance is near, my darling son,” she gushed. “Your brother has disgraced himself at last!” And she quickly filled him in on the events of the past few months. “Your foolish father has sent Manuel to Bursa to beg Murad’s pardon. Poor Manuel will not, of course, return alive. Your father will then have to free you!”

“I shall be his co-emperor!” Then Andronicus’ eyes narrowed. “Perhaps I shall be the only emperor,” he said softly.

“Oh, yes, my darling!” cried Helena. “Whatever you want, I will help you to get. You shall have it. I swear it!”

But Prince Manuel did return from Bursa. He was forgiven his sins by the sultan, and he had a bride who was already with child. The emperor was relieved to see his favorite son, though he was at first a trifle put out that his paternal rights had been assumed by Murad. However, within a few days John had to admit that Murad’s choice of a bride for Manuel had been perfect. She was sweet-natured, obedient, and very much in love with her husband. Manuel returned her affection equally. The emperor could wish no more for his son.

The empress was not pleased. Not only was Julia everything Helena wasn’t, she was also very pretty. Quiet spoken, but firm of character, Julia moved in to fill the gap left by the empress’s constant absences. The emperor and his younger son had more of a feeling of family than they had had in years, and John prepared to name young Julia co-empress when her child was born.

The baby was a girl. It was the kind of disappointment that Manuel and his father might have borne with good grace had young Julia not sickened and died of a milk fever almost immediately thereafter.

Manuel was heartbroken. He had his infant daughter moved into his own bedroom so he might watch over her at night, and he swore never to wed again.

“Andronicus’ son, John, can follow me,” he told his father sadly. “He is a good lad, and more like us than like his father.”

So the matter was settled for the time being. Julia’s daughter was baptized Theadora, after her father’s aunt. The empress, her grandmother, was enraged.

Helena began to plot again. Though her beauty had coarsened, she was still attractive, and she exuded a primitive sensuality that attracted men.

Now Helena decided to marshall support among her influential friends in the interests of her older son, Andronicus. He should be co-emperor with his father, not Manuel. She chose as her coconspirators General Justin Dukas, one of the empire’s finest soldiers; Basil Phocas, a leading banker and merchant; and Alexius Commenus, the premier nobleman of the empire. The general would bring military support to Helena’s cause, the merchant-banker financial aid. Commenus would bring the nobility, who all followed his lead. It was often said that if Alexius Commenus shaved his head and painted it crimson, so would most of Constantinople’s noblemen.

Although Justin Dukas could guarantee certain regiments of the Byzantine army, additional support would be needed. Basil Phocas’ money bought Genoese and Ottoman troops who waited discreetly outside the city for Andronicus to join them.

In Bursa, Murad laughed ‘til his sides ached at Helena’s machinations. Adora was concerned for the safety of John and Manuel.

“They will not be harmed, my dove,” he assured her. “The banker, Phocas, is in my service. He will see that neither John nor Manuel is harmed.”

Comprehension dawned. “Then it is really you who finances the Ottoman troops Helena bought?”

“Oh, no!” chuckled Murad. “Phocas is footing the bill, but no Ottoman troops fight without my permission. It suits me to keep Byzantium in an internal uproar for now. That way they cannot plot against me while I plan my next campaign for expansion.”

“Is the city included in this new expansion?” she asked. “Do not forget that you owe me my bridal price.”

“Someday,” said Murad quietly and seriously, “we will rule our empire from there. But the time is not yet ripe. I must first conquer all of Anatolia so there is no one at my back. Germiyan has been absorbed into our family, but the emirates of Aydin and Karamania remain a threat. And there is yet one Byzantine city left near us. I must have Philadelphia!”

“Do not forget,” she reminded him, “that when you have removed the Paleaologi from your path, there are still the Commenii of Trebizond. They, too, are heirs to the Caesars.”

“If all else in Anatolia is mine, what chance has Trebizond against me? It will be surrounded by a Muslim world on three sides, and a Muslim sea on the fourth side.”

His strategy was, as always, correct. Murad securely planned his next campaign while the Paleaologi family were kept busy fighting with each other for the right to govern a dying empire.

Andronicus escaped the Marble Tower and joined his troops outside the walls. The population of Constantinople was pulled back and forth in their loyalties by daily rumors. The yearly advent of the plague was said to be God’s way of showing the people that Andronicus was in the right and John and Manuel in the wrong.

In no time at all General Dukas had swayed the remaining military units over to Andronicus’ side. The city’s Golden Gate was deliberately opened early one dawn to Andronicus and his mercenaries. They marched down the Triumphal Way to the cheers of the populace. Emperor John and his younger son, Manuel, were spared only by the intervention of Basil Phocas, who threatened to withdraw his financial support if they were harmed. Since Andronicus needed the continued financial aid of the merchant-banking community to pay his troops, he had no choice but to accede.