CHAPTER XVII
The position of Zeno was quite clear to Zoe now, and a great wave ofhappiness lifted her and bore her on with it as she realised that shemight save his life just when his chances looked most hopeless, andthat whether she succeeded or failed her own must certainly be stakedfor his. Heroism is nearer the surface in women than in most men, andoften goes quite as deep.
Zoe had understood very suddenly how matters stood, and thatTocktamish and his men meant to let Zeno perish, simply because hemight ruin them all if he regained his liberty; or, if it were foundout that he was taken, they intended to hand him over to Andronicus.It was not at all likely that they would set him free even if they gotthe great ransom they demanded.
But if by any means Johannes could be brought suddenly from hisprison, all Constantinople would rise in revolution to set him on thethrone, and it would be as dangerous to keep his friend Zeno inconfinement as it now seemed rash to his captors to let him out. Thefirst thing to be done was to reach Johannes himself and warn him, andthis could only be accomplished by a woman. Gorlias knew the soldiers,and had as much influence with them as any one, perhaps, and whatevercould be done from without he would do; yet it was quite certain thatthe men could not be got together again unless Johannes were actuallyfree.
The difficulty lay there. To reach him was one thing, and was withinthe bounds of possibility; to bring him out would be quite another.But Zoe had confidence in the devotion of the captain's wife, of whomGorlias had told her, and believed that in such a case two women coulddo more than ten men.
Yet she saw that it might be fatal to let the imprisoned Emperor knowthat Zeno was himself a prisoner. To prevent this she conceived theplan of writing a letter in the Venetian's name, accepting on behalfof the Republic the gift of Tenedos, and promising instant help andliberty. Zeno had given his word that he would renew the attempt forthe sake of Tenedos, though for nothing else; this condition beingaccepted, she knew that nothing could hinder him from keeping his wordif he were free. She would therefore only be writing for him what hehimself would write if he could; and besides, if she needed a morevalid excuse, it would be done to save his life.
Her learning stood her in good stead now as she carefully penned theanswer on stout Paduan paper. She made Zeno thank the Emperor onbehalf of the Serene Republic for his generous gift, and say that hewas ready, that not a moment should be lost, and that in an hour thesovereign should be restored to his people, or Carlo Zeno would die inthe attempt.
This last phrase, as it ran from her pen, seemed to her a little tootheatrical to be Zeno's own, but she determined to let it stand forthe sake of the impression it should make on Johannes. Zeno would nomore have mentioned such a trifle as the risk of life and limb inanything he meant to do than seamen would stop to talk of danger whenordered to shorten sail in a dangerous gale. Such things are a part ofthe game. No sailor will spin a yarn about a storm unless he has seenthe Flying Dutchman or the Sea Serpent or the Man in the Top; he is indanger half his life. But the average modern soldier, who may be underfire three or four times in his career, repeats the story of hisbattles to any one who will listen. Zoe did not know whether Johanneshad ever seen Zeno's handwriting or not, but that mattered little inthose days, when many fine gentlemen could not write their ownletters. She folded the sheet neatly in a small square, and placed itin her shoe by way of experiment, to see whether it would stay therewhile she walked.
She did all this while Gorlias was gone, and before he came back theafternoon was half over, though the spring days were growing long. Hetold her that the Tartar was safe in his quarters, where he wouldprobably sleep till midnight at the very least, to the infinite rageand disgust of his men. They had expected him to return laden withgold or with the secure promise of it, and he had come back not onlyempty-handed, but hopelessly drunk; and as they knew him well, but didnot know that he had swallowed a dose of opium that would have sent atiger to sleep, they meditated in gloomy thirst on the quantity ofstrong wine he must have absorbed during an absence which had onlylasted two hours. What he had told Zoe of their coming to fetch him ifhe stayed too long had been a pure invention to frighten her; they didnot even know where he had been, for he had merely announced hisintention of going out to collect Zeno's ransom from the Venetianmerchants, and his reputation for strength and ferocity was such thatthey had not dreamed of his needing help.
Thus much Gorlias had found out, and he had also ascertained that themen were in a thoroughly bad temper in consequence of the turn affairshad taken, and much more inclined to murder Zeno than to let him out.As for his whereabouts, Gorlias only knew that he was in one of themany dry cisterns, which existed under old Constantinople, and whichhad never been in use since the crusaders had cut the aqueducts andsacked the city more than a hundred and seventy years earlier. The menwho had shut up Zeno knew where he was, but it was very likely thatthey had not told their comrades. In those last days of the Empire theforeign mercenaries were little better than bands of robbers,half-trained at that, who preyed on the peasant part of thepopulation, obeying their officers only when it was worth the trouble,and not even practising thieves' honour in the division of plunder.Not a day passed then without brawl and bloodshed amongst thesoldiery; hardly a night went by without some act of violence anddepredation for which they were responsible. They had stolen underJohannes, they robbed under Andronicus; under Johannes restored, theywould steal again. And they drank perpetually. If Sultan Amurad hadbeen the man that Mohammed the Conqueror turned out to be, the Turkswould have been in possession of Constantinople fully eighty yearsbefore they actually stormed it, and with a tenth of the loss.
If Zeno had relied on the eight hundred soldiers who had agreed tomake a revolution for Johannes, he had done so because he knew theycould be trusted to rise if there was a chance of plundering thepalace and of cutting the throats of a few hundred of their diverscountrymen who had been preferred before them as a body-guard, andwere therefore their sworn enemies. But the instant those delightfulprospects disappeared they cared no more who was Emperor than a curcares who throws him a bone; the existing condition of things was goodenough for them, and they would risk nothing to change it, unlesschange meant wine, women, and loot. Many of them were in realityMohammedans like Tocktamish, and looked upon all Christians, includingtheir employers, as their lawful prey--as dogs, moreover, and no greatfighters at that, but mostly cowardly curs. It was agreeable to liveamongst them because one could beat them and drink wine without thedisapproval of the greybeards; but as for respecting them, a Tartarlike Tocktamish would as soon have thought of fearing them.
Zoe knew all this, and so did Gorlias, and they agreed that unlessJohannes could be brought visibly before the soldiers there was littlechance of success, and none of saving Zeno. The difficulty lay in thefact that Johannes was kept in a place even more inaccessible thanZeno's cistern. The whole matter was a vicious circle. He could not beset free unless the troops rose for him; but the troops would not riseunless they saw him in their midst; and if there were no rising Zenowould be starved to death in the well. Gorlias Pietrogliant was a manof resources, but the problem completely baffled him.
He stood silent and in thought at Zoe's window; she sat quitemotionless on the great divan, watching him and thinking too. Herknees were drawn up almost to her chin, and her folded hands claspedthem while she looked straight at the astrologer's back with unwinkingeyes. Neither he nor she knew how long they kept silence; it mighthave been five minutes, or it might have been half an hour. Time playsqueer tricks when people are in great danger or in great distress.
Then Zoe's expression began to change very slowly, as an idea dawnedupon her. It was as if she saw something between her and Gorlias,something that took shape by degrees, something new and unexpectedthat presently grew to be a whole picture, and from a picture became areal scene, full of living people, moving and talking; the tendermouth opened a little as if she were going to speak, and the delicatenostril quivered, the colour spread like d
awn in her pale cheeks, anda deep warm light came into her eyes.
When the scene was over and the vision disappeared, she nodded slowly,as if satisfied that in her waking dream she had dreamed true.
Then, all at once, he felt that she had received one of those inspirations of the practical sense which visit women who are driven to extremities.]
'I have thought of a way,' she said at last.
Gorlias turned, crossed the room, and stood beside her to listen; buthe did not think she had any practicable scheme to propose, and atfirst, while she was speaking, he was much more inclined to follow hisown line of thought than hers. Then, all at once, he felt that she hadreceived one of those inspirations of the practical sense which visitwomen who are driven to extremities, and which have been the wonder ofmen since Jacob's mother showed him how to steal his father'sblessing. It is quite certain that it was a woman who showed Columbusthe trick with the egg, when he himself was trying to balance one onits point. Only a woman could have thought of anything so simple.
And now, after Gorlias had vainly racked his ingenious brain for anidea, it was the girl that suggested the only possible one. He graspedit easily.
'It is a daring plan, and it could not succeed in broad daylight,' hesaid, when she had finished, 'but it may at dusk.'
'It must,' Zoe said emphatically. 'If it fails, we shall not see eachother again.'
'Not unless it occurs to Andronicus to crucify us together,' Gorliasanswered, rather gravely. 'Very much depends on our timing ourselvesas exactly as possible.'
'Yes. Let it be a little more than half an hour after sunset, justwhen the dusk is closing in. Have you everything you need?'
'I can get what is lacking. We have three good hours still beforeus.'
'Go, then, and do not be late. You know what will happen to me if youdo not come just at the right time.'
'You are risking more than I,' Gorlias said.
'I have more to lose, and more to win,' Zoe answered.
She was thinking of Zeno,--of life with him, of life without him, andof the life she would give for his. But Gorlias wondered at hercourage, for it was held nothing in those days to tear a living man orwoman to shreds, piecemeal, on the mere suspicion of treason, and thatwould surely be her fate if he could not carry out precisely andsuccessfully the plan she had thought of. A delay of half an hourmight mean death to her, though it would not of necessity affect theresult so far as Johannes and Zeno were concerned.
Gorlias left her to make his own preparations. When he was gone Zoesent Yulia for Zeno's own man, Vito, the Venetian boatman. He came andstood on the threshold while she spoke to him, out of the maids'hearing, and in Italian, lest they should creep near and listen.
'Vito,' said Zoe, 'how is the secretary?'
'Excellency,' the Venetian answered, 'fear is an ugly sickness, whichmakes healthy men tremble worse than the fever does.'
He either forgot that he was supposed to be speaking to a slave whohad no more claim to be called 'Excellency' than he had himself, andless, if anything; or else he had made up his mind that this beautifulArethusa whom he had to-day seen for the first time, was not a slaveat all, but a great lady in disguise.
'You are never frightened, are you, Vito?' she asked with a smile.
'I?' Vito grinned. 'Am I of iron, or of stone? Or am I perhaps a lion?When there is fear I am afraid.'
'But the master is never frightened,' suggested Zoe. 'Is he of stone,then?'
'Oh, he!' Vito laughed now, and shrugged his shoulders. 'Would youcompare me with the master? Then compare copper with gold. The masteris the master, and that is enough, but I am only a sailor man in hisservice. If there is fighting, I fight while I see that I am thestronger, but when I see that I may die I run away. We are all thus.'
'But surely you would not run away and leave Messer Carlo to bekilled, would you?'
'No,' Vito answered quite simply. 'That would be another affair. Itwould be shame to go home alive if the master were killed. When onemust die, one must, as God wills. It may be for the master, it may befor Venice. But for myself, I ask you? Why should I die for nothing? Irun away. It is more sensible.'
'You need not risk being killed if you do what I am going to ask,' Zoesaid, for after talking with the man she liked his honest face, andthought none the less of him for his frankness. 'It is a very simplematter.'
'What is it, Excellency?'
'You need not call me that, Vito,' answered Zoe. 'I want you to row meat sunset to the landing which is nearest to the palace gate. It mustbe the dirty little one on this side of the Amena tower, is it not?'
'That is it. But without the master's orders----'
Vito looked at her doubtfully, for he had been reminded that sheconsidered herself a slave, and it occurred to him that she meant toescape in Zeno's absence.
'Messer Carlo would wish me to go, if he were here,' said Zoe quietly,and not at all as if she were insisting, for she saw what was thematter.
'I have no doubt it is as you say,' Vito answered. 'But I have noorders.'
'There is a message from the master to some one in the palace,' Zoeexplained. 'No one but I can deliver it.'
'That is easily said,' observed Vito bluntly. 'There are no orders.'
Zoe felt the blood rising to her forehead at the man's rudeness anddistrust of her, but she controlled herself, for much depended onobtaining what she wished.
'It is not a message,' she said; 'it is a letter.'
'Where is it?' asked Vito incredulously.
'I will show it to you,' Zoe answered, but she first turned to themaids, who waited at the end of the room. 'Go and prepare me thebath,' she said.
The two disappeared, though they did not believe that their mistressreally wished to bathe again so soon. When they were gone, she stoopedand took the letter from her shoe, unfolded it, and spread it out forVito to see. The effect it made upon him was instantaneous; he lookedat it carefully, and took a corner of it between his thumb and finger.
'This is the paper on which the master writes,' he said, as ifconvinced.
It did not occur to him that the slave Arethusa could write at all,nor any one else in the house except Omobono; and as for the latter,if he had written anything he must have done so under Zeno's orders.Writing of any sort commanded his profound and almost superstitiousrespect.
'This is certainly a letter from the master,' he said, satisfied atlast, after what he considered a thoroughly conscientious inspection.
'And he wishes me to deliver it,' Zoe said. 'If I am to do that, youmust be good enough to take me to the landing in the boat. There is noother way.'
'I could take the letter myself,' Vito suggested.
'No. Only a woman will be allowed to pass, where this must go.'
Vito began to understand, and nodded his head wisely.
'It is for Handsome John,' he said, with conviction, and fixing hiseyes on Zoe's. 'It is for the other Emperor, whom the master wishes toset free.'
'Yes--since you have guessed it,' Zoe answered. 'Will you take menow?'
'You will take one of your slaves with you, as you do when you go outin the boat with the secretary, I suppose?'
Vito still felt a little hesitation.
'No. I must go alone with you. And I myself shall be dressed like aslave, and I shall have a basket of things to carry on my head to thewife of the gaoler.'
'I see,' said Vito, who really loved adventure for its own sake, andwas much less inclined to run away from danger than he represented.'Did you say you wished to go at sunset?'
'Yes.'
'I shall be ready. But it will be better to take an old boat, and Iwill put on ragged clothes, to look like a hired boatman.'
'Yes; that will be better.'
Vito went away, delighted with the prospect before him. He was tooyoung and too true a Venetian not to look forward with pleasure torowing the beautiful Arethusa up the Golden Horn, though he was only aservant and she was the master's most treasured possession. He f
elt,too, some manly pride in the thought of possibly protecting her, forhe meant to follow her ashore and look on from a distance, to seewhether she got safely into the tower, and he would wait until shecame out. The master would expect that much of him, at least.
As yet, neither Vito nor any member of the household, except Zoe, knewthat Zeno was a prisoner, held for ransom. It had pleased him to goout of his house during the previous night, and some importantbusiness detained him; that was all. When he was at leisure he wouldcome home. The men-servants who had waited on the guests and had heardTocktamish's words, to the effect that Zeno had sent him for money,looked upon the statement as a clumsy trick which the half-drunkenrobber was trying to play in Zeno's absence, and as nothing more. Butthey had been far too badly frightened to stay and listen, as has beenseen. To Vito, who was, nevertheless, by far the best of them, it hadbeen a matter of utter indifference whether the Tartar cut the throatsof the four guests or not, compared with the urgent necessity ofkeeping out of his reach. If the master had been present another sideof their character would have come into play, but as he was absentthey had thought of their own safety first.