The Sheen on the Silk Read Online Free PDF

delicate nose and mouth. Under her winged eyebrows, her eyes brimmed with tears.
    She came forward to meet him with somber dignity.
    “How kind of you to come, Your Grace. It is a strange and lonely time for me.”
    “I can only imagine how desolate you must be,” he replied gently. He knew exactly what she had felt for Bessarion, and far more of the details of what had happened to him than she had any idea. But none of that would ever be acknowledged between them. “If there is any comfort I can offer you, you have but to ask,” he continued. “Bessarion was a good man, and loyal to the true faith. It is a double blow that he should be betrayed by those he trusted.”
    She raised her eyes to his. “I still can hardly believe it,” she said huskily. “I keep hoping that something will arise to prove that neither of them was really guilty. I cannot believe it was Justinian. Not on purpose. There is some mistake.”
    “What could that be?” He asked because he needed to know what she might say to others.
    She gave a tiny, delicate shrug. “I have not even thought so far.”
    It was the answer he wanted.
    “Other people may ask,” he said quite casually.
    Helena lifted her head, her lips parted as she drew in her breath. The fear was there in her eyes only long enough for him to be certain of it, then she masked it. “Perhaps I am fortunate in not knowing anything.” There was no lift of question in her voice, and try as he might, he could not read her face.
    “Yes,” he agreed smoothly. “I will be comforted knowing that you are quite safe from that added distress in your time of mourning.”
    There was understanding bright in her eyes, and then it was gone again, replaced by the calm, almost blank stare. “You are so kind to have called, Your Grace. Remember me in your prayers.”
    “Always, my child,” he promised, raising his hand piously. “You will never be far from my thoughts.”
    He felt certain that Helena was not foolish enough to speak too freely to the Nicean eunuch, should Anastasius call and seek further knowledge from her. But as Constantine went out into the brightening sun and the slight wind off the sea, he was equally sure that she knew more than he had supposed and that she would be willing to use it for her own ends.
    Who had made Helena laugh so freely and given her the exquisite perfume bottle? Constantine wished he knew.

Four

    ANNA WENT OUT OF HER WAY TO SPEAK TO NEIGHBORS, prepared to waste time in conversation about the weather, politics, religion, anything they wanted to discuss.
    “Can’t stand here any longer,” one man said finally. It was Paulus, a local shopkeeper. “My feet are so sore I can hardly get them in my shoes.”
    “Perhaps I can help?” Anna offered.
    “Just let me sit down,” he said, grimacing.
    “I’m a physician. Perhaps I can offer a more permanent solution.”
    With his face reflecting disbelief, Paulus followed her, walking gingerly along the uneven stones until they covered the fifty yards to her house. Once inside, she examined his swollen feet and ankles. The flesh was red and obviously painful to the touch.
    She filled a bowl full of cold water and put an astringent herb in it. Paulus winced as he put in his feet, then she saw his muscles slowly relax and the sense of ease come into his face. It was more the chill than anything else taking the burning out of his skin. What he really needed was to change his diet, but she knew she must be diplomatic about telling him so. She suggested he might care for rice, boiled with seasoning, and should abstain from all fruit, except apples, if he could find some that had been stored and were fit to eat at this time of year.
    “And plenty of spring water,” she added. “It must be spring, not lake, river, well water, or rain.”
    “Water?” he said with disbelief.
    “Yes. The right water is very good for you. Come back any time you wish to, and I will bathe your feet in herbs again. Would you like