Cyprian looked up at the stars peeking through the low cover of cloud and smoke that never really cleared. “I believe that the Virgin Mary would rather see us take care of our own than take care of a painting of her. Which is why I am going to go distract the guard so you two can sneak in and take what silver you find.” He bowed jauntily, trying to recapture some of their fun, then walked around the corner of the monastery.
Radu leaned up against a small outer door, working the lock as quickly as he could. They entered through a pitch-dark back hallway. Feeling their way along the wall, they came to another door. It was locked.
“That is promising,” Nazira whispered.
Radu picked this last lock. The air inside stung his nose with the remains of censer smoke. Radu dared to light a candle in the windowless room. As the light flared to life, the image of the Virgin Mary appeared in front of them. The icon, nearly as tall as Radu, was mounted on a pallet with poles extending for carrying.
“Too bad we cannot melt it down,” Nazira said thoughtfully, looking at the heavy gold frame. Radu searched for silver. There were a few small pieces, and he pocketed them. Nazira stayed where she was, staring at the icon.
“I think that is Constantinople’s problem,” she said. “They look to a painting to save them, instead of to each other. They argue and debate over the state of their souls for the afterlife, while letting the needy in this life go hungry. No wonder this city is dying.”
Radu put a hand on her shoulder. “I have what we came for.”
Nazira did not move. Her eyes shone heavy with tears in the candlelight. “I hate them. I hate everyone in this city. I walk among them, I talk to them, and it is like conversing with ghosts. I want to wear mourning clothes every day.” She was crying now. Reaching into one of the jars in the bucket, she pulled out a glopping handful of grease.
Radu grasped her hand before she could fling the grease at the icon. “No,” he said softly.
“We should burn it. We should punish them.”
“They are being punished enough.”
“Your sister would burn it to demoralize them.”
“My sister would do much more than that.” He smiled, imagining what Lada would do if she were here in his place. Nothing in the city would be safe. “But Cyprian is outside. He would know.”
Sniffling, Nazira nodded. She rubbed her hands along the pallet handles, trying to wipe off the grease. “I am sorry. I miss Fatima so much it feels like ice has entered my soul. And it is hard remembering not to care about these people. I was so sure when we came that it would not be a problem. I wanted— I wanted them to suffer. I wanted to watch them fall.”
Radu had never heard her talk like that. “To protect Islam?”
“For revenge,” she whispered. “For Fatima. Her family was killed by crusaders when she was very young. They did horrible things. Things she cannot talk about even now. I wanted Constantinople to be ours to prevent more crusades, yes. But also to punish them.” She dabbed at her eyes with a corner of her shawl. “I know it is not rational. None of the people here were responsible for what happened to Fatima. But their mindless hatred of us, their demonizing of Islam, is what let those men do what they did. It was wicked of me to come here with so much hatred in my heart. Hatred makes monsters of us all.”
Radu pulled her close, hugging her tightly. “You could never be a monster,” he said, as the Virgin Mary pointed solemnly at her son. Her face betrayed no emotion, no hint of judgment or mercy.
“I still think we are doing the right thing.” Nazira fixed her shawl. “And I am trying to set my heart in line with God.”
Radu nodded, taking her hand. Together, they left the monastery.
Cyprian met them outside. “The foundry is not far. No one will be there.”
When they got to the foundry, the forge’s fires were cold. It would take a while for them to be hot enough to melt down the metal. Nazira excused herself to go home and sleep.
Radu saw now that she wore her sadness like a cloak. She smiled so brightly, it was too easy to miss the sorrow swirling around her. Radu wished he could take it from her. But he knew that leaving this city and being reunited with Fatima would be what began her healing.
As they started the furnace, Cyprian found the molds for coins. “My father told me I would never make any money for the family. I wish he could see me now.”
“My father did not even think about me enough to wonder whether I was worth anything.”
“He sounds like more of a bastard than I am.”
Radu laughed, and was rewarded with one of Cyprian’s precious genuine smiles. They took turns stoking the fire. Cyprian leaned close, looking over Radu’s shoulder to watch the flames. He had washed, and did not smell like the walls anymore. He smelled like clothing dried in the sun, with a hint of the breeze blowing off the sea. Radu found himself breathing in so deeply he was dizzy.
“You are very good at this,” Cyprian said, his breath tickling Radu’s ear.
Radu would have blushed at the praise—after his broken childhood, he devoured praise like a starving man took bread—but it was so warm he was already flushed. Soon the room was stifling. Cyprian peeled off his outer layers, finally taking off even his undershirt.
It really is uncomfortably hot, Radu thought, looking everywhere but at the other man.
When the fire was bright enough, they fed the silver pieces to it one by one, collecting the molten metal. The coins they cast were rough, obviously inferior to genuine money. But no one would examine them too closely right now.
Cyprian sprawled out on the floor, arms behind his head. Radu did not look.
Until he did.
Cyprian was lean and tall, with broad shoulders. Radu’s eyes lingered on the space where his torso dipped from his ribs toward the line of his trousers.
No. He was tired, and it was—something. It was all something. He did not know what, could not form a coherent thought. Looking at Cyprian made him remember seeing Mehmed that night in Mehmed’s bedroom, before Mehmed had known he was there. Radu felt an odd surge of guilt, like he had somehow betrayed Mehmed tonight. When he thought of how miserable he had been in Edirne, he wanted to laugh. He would give anything for that small distance from Mehmed, as opposed to the tangle of emotions and questions the walls separating them had introduced.
Except he did not think he wanted to give up this night, even with everything getting here had cost him.
Still, he kept his eyes on the table after that. If Cyprian caught him looking, how would he react? How would Radu want him to react? Radu focused intently on the coins. “How will you explain them to your uncle?”
“A dowry from a withered old crone who wants to marry me.”
“You would be more believable if you said it was buried treasure.”
“I happen to be very appealing to women of advanced age. My eyes, you see. They cannot get enough of my eyes.”
Radu finally tugged his own shirt off, because the room kept getting hotter. He tried very hard not to look at Cyprian. He sometimes succeeded. All the while, he stayed on the other side of the table, glad it was between him and Cyprian. And glad his trousers were thick enough to hide the feelings his body would not accept should not be there.
Bodies were traitorous things.
38
Mid-April
“WE NEED DORIN,” Toma said. He sat tall and regal on his horse. “And he is a Basarab.”
Lada pointed toward where they had come from. “He attacked us!” They had been met on the edge of Dorin Basarab’s forest by three dozen poorly armed and terrified farmers. Ten well-trained soldiers with weapons had stood at the farmers’ backs, leaving them no option but to fight. Before Lada had been able to open her mouth, one of the farmers had shot an arrow at her. Bogdan immediately cut the man down, then went after the next. It was a few minutes of bloody, screaming work to dispatch them. It was a waste of her time, and a waste of the farmers’ lives.
Toma did not mind. He sniffed lightly, eyeing the manor ahead of them appraisingly. “Dorin will agree to back us. And we will not have another incident.” He looked sharply at Lada. “I will placate him by offering him Silviu’s lands when you are on the throne.”