A Triple-headed Serpent. Marié Heese
must be right, whatever happens.
“He will do battle by devious and underhand means. You should be prepared.”
“I hear,” said Theodora. “I’ll keep a close watch.”
There was a pause.
Then the woman said: “Why did you come to see me, Kyria? Everyone has a particular question in mind.”
“What about … children? What do you see?”
She stroked the palms of Theodora’s upturned hands. “Again, three … vaguely. But only one is clear.”
“Shall I have a son?” demanded Theodora, voicing her deepest desire.
The sibyl frowned. She took Theodora’s hands in a firm clasp. “Kyria is strong, with vibrant life,” she said. “I feel it … it is not too late. It is possible … possible … but it is not clear.”
“Oh, anyone could say it is possible,” said Theodora furiously. “You’re just being vague and evasive. Tell me something that is not general knowledge, something you could not just guess.”
The woman continued: “Recently there has been great drama, and much blood. Yes, of course the entire city lived through this, I know it and you know it. But, Kyria, it has distressed you particularly. At the present time, you feel lost. Lost and … devastated. That is why, really, you have come to me.”
Theodora struggled against tears. She said nothing, biting back a flood of words she was tempted to spill to a sympathetic ear. She swallowed. “Yes,” she whispered. “I didn’t realise … I didn’t mean …” Her words during the insurrection, aimed at strengthening the resolve of Justinian, counselling against flight, had not been intended to be transformed into swords that cut down thirty thousand men. Yet that had happened. And now she could not sleep. “What can I do?”
“If there has been sin, let the heart repent. A broken and contrite heart, the Lord will not despise.”
“I didn’t … intend …” But what did you expect? asked her accusing conscience. You convinced the Emperor to take a stand, to put down the rebellion. How did you imagine he was going to do that? Without bloodshed? “It was so … extreme,” she said, shivering at the dreadful image of the Hippodrome painted red with blood. She had not seen it, but the word had spread throughout the cowed and shattered city.
“Whatever your transgressions, Kyria, the greatness of His compassion will blot them out.”
“Can it be so great?” whispered Theodora.
“The greatness of His compassion knows no bounds. Only repent, and live to serve the Christ.”
Wise words, thought Theodora, even if one did not need to be a clairvoyant to speak them. Comforting words. “Thank you,” she said. “Thank you very much. You have …”
“Wait!” The sibyl tightened her hold on Theodora’s hands. Her blind eyes seemed to be fixed on some fearful sight. Despite her age and apparent frailty she had strong fingers. One could take her for a blacksmith, thought Theodora, with so hard a grip.
“What is it?”
“Darkness,” she said.
“Darkness?”
“A terrible wave of darkness will come upon the world,” she said, with an expression of total horror. “It will sweep across entire countries from shore to shore. It will bring death and destruction … there will be lamentations and tearing of hair and gnashing of teeth. People will fall like grain before the sickle of the Grim Reaper … thousands … upon thousands …”
“Will it reach Constantinople? Will I die?”
“Yes … yes, it will reach the very heart of the Empire. Alas and alack! The city will be walled about by the bodies of the dead!”
Surely not, thought Theodora. She’s dishing up drama to impress me. “Will I die?” she asked again.
“No, no … not in the black flood. You will survive it, Kyria, because you will be supported and carried through by one who loves you very much. One who adores you.”
“Well, that’s a comfort, at least,” said Theodora.
The sibyl shivered violently, then seemed to come to herself. She expelled a long sigh, letting go of Theodora’s hands. Her grip had been painful, and Theodora rubbed her hands and wrists.
“Well, then,” said Theodora, thinking that the woman would doubtless expect extra gold for that last performance. “What do I owe you?”
“Nothing, Kyria. It has been arranged.”
On the way home in a modest sedan chair behind closed curtains, Theodora pondered the woman’s words. Where she had been specific, she had been right. One might almost suspect, thought Theodora, that she had been primed. She wouldn’t put it past Narses to have done exactly that. What the woman had said had been both comforting and frightening, if one took the final vision seriously. But no, thought Theodora, recalling the old crones she had seen as a child in the streets near the Hippodrome, who had chewed on soap and screeched spurious prophecies of disaster while foaming at the mouth, thus earning donations from passing men temporarily frightened into repentance. No, she did not believe any of that.
At the palace, Narses enquired solicitously: “Was the interview of any help, Despoina?”
“She told me very little that was specific,” said Theodora. “Warned me against the treachery of an official … one of three, she said.”
“Cappadocian John,” said Narses immediately. “The man will bear watching, certainly. And?”
“At first she was comforting. Made me feel a great deal better. But then she seemed to have some kind of vision. A wave of darkness, she said, that will sweep across countries, from shore to shore.”
“Darkness? What did she mean?”
“She was not explicit. These women seldom are. Stormy weather, perhaps,” said Theodora, reluctant to repeat the dire predictions of death.
“Did she say how it would affect you personally, Despoina?”
“She said I wouldn’t die, I would be carried through by one who adores me. If it happens, naturally, that will be Justinian.”
Narses was silent.
“Obvious, isn’t it?”
“It’s the interpretation that springs to mind,” said Narses. He cleared his throat. “So, she does not seem to have brought much cheer.”
“She was rather given to doom and gloom. And yet I do feel better, having spoken to her. She said it is possible that I may yet have a son. And she has shown me the way forward. I must find more ways to serve Christ.”
“Not dwell on what is over,” agreed Narses. “Take positive action.”
“Yes, I have been pondering how we can reach out to our people … We must do something public. Not chariot races, not just yet. The Hippodrome is still closed down. But …”
A thoughtful frown creased his simian face. “A procession through the streets, perhaps, stopping at some churches that have remained undamaged,” he suggested. “A litany of penitence.”
“Ah! You are right,” she said. “That is exactly what needs to be done. Yes! A procession, a litany of penitence! It will be a striking spectacle.” As a former actress in the Kynêgion, she knew all about spectacles. “Even as a small child, I once experienced the power of symbolic action to sway the emotions of a crowd.”
“When was that, Despoina?”
“After my father died. You know he was keeper of the bears, for the Greens?”
“It is generally known, Despoina. Also, that a bear killed him.”
“Yes.