Basil Phocas heaved a secret sigh of relief. His continued wealth in these difficult times was due to the fact that his caravans traveled in safety throughout Asia. This was due to Ottoman protection. In return, Phocas spied for Murad and did his bidding discreetly. He had promised the sultan that neither of the deposed co-emperors would be harmed. But he had not counted on the viciousness of the empress. Helena wanted her spouse and younger son dead.

Fortunately, the other chief conspirators agreed with Phocas. John and Manuel were imprisoned in the Marble Tower that had held Andronicus. Basil Phocas personally paid the Ottoman soldiers who guarded the prisoners and the servants who waited on them. The soldiers and servants were told that Sultan Murad wanted the two men kept alive. If anyone offered them a bribe to visit the prisoners or to poison them, they were to accept the money and then immediately report to Phocas. In this manner the two men were kept safe.

Inspired by Helena’s success, Thamar decided to try her hand at intrigue. She entered into secret negotiations with the wife of Murad’s deadly enemy, the emir of Aydin. Her objective, as always, was a kingdom for her son, Prince Yakub. He, of course, knew nothing of his mother’s plans.

The emir’s fourth wife was the heiress of Tekke. She had but one child, a daughter of thirteen. It was this girl-and Tekke-that Thamar sought for her son. Even her beloved Demetrios was kept unaware of her plans and it was only by chance that he learned of the plot before it could be completed.

One night he awoke to hear her talking in her sleep. He debated shaking her awake. But he realized that, if he did so and her plans were later foiled, she would know who had betrayed her.

Having heard enough to give him an idea of what she was up to, he rose quietly and sought for the small ebony and mother-of-pearl box in which she kept her correspondence. Sure enough within he found not only copies of her letters, but the letters from Aydin’s fourth wife as well. Shaking his head at the foolishness of keeping such incriminating letters, he slipped from the room with the box.

When Ali Yahya had read the letters he said, “Return the box to its hiding place, Demetrios. Say nothing, of course, but continue to serve your lady well.” Then, he handed the younger man an exquisite sapphire ring.

Demetrios slipped the ring on his finger and did as he was bid. He wondered how Ali Yahya would circumvent Thamar’s plans. But he did not have long to wait before finding out. Several weeks later there came word that the emir of Aydin’s fourth wife and her daughter had been drowned in a boating accident.

Though Thamar kept her own council, he knew the reason for her unhappy mood and he strove harder to please her. He was touchingly tender and understood one day when, for no apparent reason, she burst into tears.

Dismissing her women, he held her in his arms while she wept. “Why do you cry, my beloved?” he encouraged her. To his surprise she admitted, “I must have a kingdom for Yakub! He will never follow Murad while Bajazet lives. And though his older brother is fond of him, he will kill him before their father’s body is cold. If I can find another kingdom for him, then he is no threat to them.”

Demetrios felt a terrible sadness sweep over him. “Oh, my dear one,” he said gently. “You do not understand, and I do not know if you ever will. There is no other kingdom for your son. The sultan means to eventually rule all of Asia and Europe. Perhaps the Ottoman will not succeed in Sultan Murad’s lifetime, but surely in the lifetime of his descendants. Your son is too fine a man and too good a soldier to remain alive when the present sultan dies. You must accept this, my beloved, though it breaks your heart. If Prince Bajazet does not die before his father does, it is he who will rule next. Your son will die. There is no other way Bajazet can be safe. You must accept it.”

“I did not bear and raise my son to be slaughtered like a sacrificial lamb!” she screamed.

“Hush, mistress,” he comforted her. “It is the way of the world. You must steel yourself. God willing, it will be many years before you lose your son. He might even die a natural death.”

She quieted, but the look in her eye warned him that she would not accept her son’s fate without a fight. He would have to watch her carefully from now on. What, he wondered, would she do?

In the meantime Andronicus had had himself crowned the fourth emperor of that name. At first he had been very popular for he talked convincingly about lifting the Turkish yoke and of restoring the city’s prosperity. He could, of course, do neither. Soon there were rumblings of discontent. Andronicus levied new taxes to pay for his diversions.

Helena, too, was disappointed in her eldest son. She was no longer accorded the respect due her position as she had been with her husband. Worse, her allowance had not been paid. When she demanded to know why, the emperor’s new bursar told her that Andronicus had given no orders that she receive money.

Angrily she sought out her son. He was, as usual, surrounded by courtesans and hangers-on. “Could we not speak privately?” she asked.

“There is nothing you cannot say in front of my friends,” he answered rudely.

Helena gritted her teeth. There was nothing for it but to speak. “The money due me to run my household this quarter has not been paid, and your bursar tells me he has no order to pay me.”

“I need all my money myself,” answered Andronicus.

“The empress always received an allowance.”

“You are not my empress, Mother. You are my father’s empress. Get your money from your lovers. Or will they not pay anymore for what has been so well used?”

The women about Andronicus giggled at the outraged look on Helena’s face; the men smirked. But she was not so easily bested.

“I cannot imagine why you need all the money, Andronicus. Women of the streets, such as these,” and she waved her hand to include those clustered about her son, “can usually be had for a few coppers. Or a crust of bread. Or nothing.” Then she turned and regally departed the room, pleased with the gasps of outrage behind her.

She was beginning to realize her mistake in favoring her elder son over her husband and Manuel. He had no real interest in the city, or the remainder of the empire. Helena had expected a share of the power when Andronicus took over. She was worse off now than she had been before.

Returning to her apartment, she found it being searched and her servants in an uproar. A young captain was in possession of her jewel cases.

“What is going on?” she demanded, trying hard to keep her voice calm.

“Orders of the emperor,” said the young officer. “We are to seize and confiscate the state jewels in your possession.”

Helena’s wild burst of laughter startled everyone in the room. “State jewels? There are no state jewels, captain! The state jewels of Byzantium were sold or stolen during the Latin reign years ago. The jewels worn by me on state occasions are paste imitations!”

“And what are these, madame?” He held out the lacquered jewel cases.

“Those are my private property, captain. Each piece of jewelry in those boxes was a gift to me. They are mine alone.”

“I must take them all, madame. The emperor’s orders made no distinctions.”

Helena stared, and her china-blue eyes widened further to see her silver and gold plate and her vessels being carried away. The captain looked away, embarrassed.

“Fetch General Dukas,” she ordered one of her maids.

The captain barred the woman’s way. “No one will be allowed to leave or enter this apartment without the emperor’s written permission,” he said. “You are under house arrest, madame.”

“How are we to get food?” Helena asked with a calm she was far from feeling.

“It will be brought to you twice daily, madame.” Then, as if it was an afterthought, he said, “I am sorry, madame.” And signaling his men to gather up the empress’s property, he left.

The evening meal turned out to be a disgusting mess of peas, beans, and lentils, a loaf of coarse, brown bread, and a pitcher of inferior wine. Helena and her servants looked at the tray with disgust. There was not enough food to feed more than three people, and the empress had fourteen servants. Angrily she shoved the tray over, and her little dogs rushed to lap up the mess. Within minutes they were all dead.

“The ungrateful bastard,” the empress said furiously. Then she announced, “All but two of you will have to go. The fairest way to decide will be to draw lots.”

“Sara and I will stay, my lady,” said her tiring woman, Irene. “It is our right, as we have been with you the longest.”

“Use the secret passage,” said Helena. “I have nothing left with which to bribe the guards in any case. That way they will not know you are gone. One of you can bring us food and drink daily.”

“Come with us, madame,” begged her chief eunuch.

“And leave my son and his friends in complete control of the palace? Never! But you, Constans, go to Basil Phocas and tell him what has happened here. Tell him-tell him-that I have made a mistake in judgement.”

The empress’ servants escaped safely, and several days later Basil Phocas arrived via the secret passage. Sara and Irene kept watch while Helena and her former lover talked.

“What exactly do you want me to do?” asked the banker.

“John and Manuel must be restored. Andronicus is utterly impossible.”

“It will take some time, my dear.”

“But it can be done?”

“I believe so.”

“Then see to it! I cannot stay penned up here forever.”

The banker smiled and departed. The empress, imprisoned in her own rooms, waited and waited. And waited. After many months word was smuggled into her that her husband and younger son had escaped and were safe in Bursa with Sultan Murad.