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‘I shall be glad to meet him,’ Sofia replied. And indeed, she would, particularly if Bessarion had the ear of the pope. ‘But I do not believe that he could have much to teach Your Holiness.’

The pope smiled. ‘Your words are kind, but, as pride is the downfall of man, I shall be forced to disagree.’ He picked up the letter from the Synaxis and tapped it nonchalantly against the arm of his throne. ‘Princess, Leontarsis, the friendship of the Greek
emperor is most welcome, as are you both. You will join me for dinner tonight, when we will discuss this letter of the Synaxis. Until then, I must ask that you excuse me.’ The pope rose and left the room amidst respectful silence. As soon as the door closed behind him, the room burst into noisy life, courtiers grouping in clumps to gossip and politic. Leontarsis went straight to a chamber-pot in the corner to relieve himself.

‘I thought that went well,’ Sofia said to him when he returned. ‘The pope seems well disposed towards us.’

Leontarsis merely grunted his affirmation. No doubt he was already preoccupied with that night’s dinner, where he would bear the brunt of the pope’s outrage over the letter of the Synaxis. Sofia hoped that he would not say anything foolish. Constantine had instructed Leontarsis that he was not to support union unless the pope agreed to all the demands of the Synaxis. The pope would not react kindly to such an intransigent stance, and Leontarsis had little skill for sweetening harsh words. Indeed, it might be better if Leontarsis were not present at the dinner.

‘Leontarsis, are you feeling quite well?’ Sofia asked him.

‘Much better now, yes,’ he responded absently.

‘I rejoice to hear it, because if you fell ill before this evening’s meal,’ she suggested, ‘you would not be present tonight when the pope discusses the letter of the Synaxis. You would have to postpone your meeting with him until he has had more time to reflect.’

‘What? Sick?’ Leontarsis asked. His confusion vanished. ‘Yes, I am feeling rather poorly. I am not sure that my seasickness has quite passed. Would you do me the honour of representing me at the pope’s table tonight and expressing my regrets?’

‘Of course,’ Sofia replied. That was one problem solved. But there was still the letter to deal with. How to make the pope understand that the only way to deal with the Synaxis was to call their bluff? Perhaps Cardinal Bessarion could be of help. Indeed, he looked like the only hope that she had.

A little over an hour later Sofia followed a young priest into Bessarion’s study, a square room occupying one of the upper floors of the papal palace’s south tower. Books filled the room, overflowing the bookshelves and covering much of the floor as well. In the centre of the room a desk floated amongst the sea of books, and seated at the desk was Bessarion. The ageing scholar’s appearance contrasted sharply with the clutter of his study. He was immaculately dressed in the red robes of a cardinal, his white hair cut short beneath a red skullcap and his white beard neatly trimmed. He looked up from the manuscript laid out before him, and his face brightened. ‘Princess Sofia, you are most welcome,’ he said, his voice quiet and deep. ‘I have heard great things of you.’

Sofia curtsied. ‘Thank you for seeing me at such short notice, Your Eminence. You do me great honour.’

‘Please, call me Bessarion. “Your Eminence” is far too lofty a title for an old man such as me,’ he replied with a smile. ‘Now, Princess, I presume that it is not questions of scholarship that have brought you to me. You wish to discuss union and support for Constantinople, I have no doubt. Of course, you know that the pope wishes to give what aid he can, so long as the Union is enforced. But I must warn you, this letter of the Synaxis has not helped your cause.’

‘You have read the letter, then?’

‘Yes. The pope summoned me to him as soon as he left his audience with you. The letter left him quite upset. He is very clear where he stands. The pope will never agree to another council, nor will he agree to a union in which he is not the absolute head of the Church.’

‘And what do you think?’ Sofia asked.

Bessarion shrugged his shoulders. ‘Me? What does it matter what an old fool like me thinks?’ It mattered very much indeed, Sofia thought. Bessarion was the only person with enough influence to convince the pope to support Constantinople. After a pause, Bessarion continued. ‘I think that union is good for the faith, and good for the empire. I have always believed that. That
is why I am here in Rome. That is why I am a cardinal. I also believe that Constantinople must be helped. It is not so very far, after all, from Constantinople to Vienna, or from Vienna to Rome. If we could have aid for Constantinople without union, then I would be for that. But that is not to be, and I understand the pope’s reluctance. Nicholas is more concerned with the Church than with Constantinople. If he could be convinced that the Union will be implemented, then he might act. But after this letter from the Synaxis, I fear he will be very hard to convince.’

‘But not impossible?’

‘Nothing is impossible with God’s help, my child,’ Bessarion replied. ‘But God will have to work a small miracle to change the pope’s mind. I am not so sure, however, that the pope is wrong. My fellow bishops ran me out of Constantinople for supporting the Union, and just look at how they have treated poor Patriarch Mammas. I do not believe that union is possible as long as such men control the Orthodox Church.’

‘I agree,’ Sofia concurred. ‘But what if these men were not in power? What if we could break the Synaxis?’

Bessarion nodded. ‘Go on, Princess. You have my attention.’

‘Give the Synaxis what they want,’ Sofia said. ‘That is the way to break them.’

Bessarion frowned. ‘I’m not quite sure I follow you.’

‘The bishops of the Synaxis draw all of their strength from their opposition to the Union,’ Sofia explained. ‘Agree with them on the small issues, and they will be forced to agree with the Union. Once they do, they will lose all of their power with the people.’

‘But these are hardly small issues. Surely you are not suggesting that the pope agree to the doctrine of the equality of all bishops, or that he deny one thousand years of teaching and accept that the Holy Spirit proceeds only from God?’

Sofia nodded emphatically. ‘That is exactly what I am suggesting. The pope must condone the Greek liturgy, overlook any theological differences, and at least formally accept the equality of all
bishops. If he does all of this, then the Synaxis will have no choice but to embrace the Union.’

‘But what you ask for is nothing less than a complete renunciation of the Roman Catholic position!’

‘Not a renunciation, Bessarion,’ Sofia insisted. ‘A compromise, and a temporary one at that. The important thing is that the pope will retain real control of the Church. In a few years time, once the people have grown used to the Union, then he can reverse his decrees and slowly bring the Orthodox Church into line with the Latin Church. This is the only way that union can be achieved – slowly, or not at all.’

‘There are others who have thought as you do,’ Bessarion mused. ‘But you ask much of the pope. I know what Nicholas will say to this. Is not protecting the truth of God to be placed above whatever secular gains the Union might bring about? I wonder the same.’

‘But what does the truth matter, if there is no one left to teach it to?’ Sofia replied. ‘If Constantinople falls to the Turks, then any chance to save the Greeks will be lost. Surely it is better for the pope to bring the Orthodox Church into the fold, however imperfectly, than to leave it outside true salvation forever.’

‘Enough, enough,’ Bessarion said. ‘You have made your point, Princess. I will discuss what you have told me with the pope.’

‘And?’

‘And,’ Bessarion smiled, ‘I will do my utmost to ensure that he finds your arguments convincing.’

Dinner that night was held in the pope’s private dining room around a table that accommodated only ten guests. The room was decorated on three sides with frescos depicting the deaths of saints, and the paintings seemed to come alive under the flickering candlelight. The fourth side of the room was lined with arched windows looking out on the lights of Rome, burning brightly in the clear February sky.

The pope sat at the head of the table, with Sofia and Bessarion
to his right and left. The rest of the guests were cardinals and bishops who Sofia did not recognize. The table was set with silver, gold and crystal – a sharp contrast to the plain wooden dishes that served the Greek court. Each course was more delicious than the last: a
tartara
of egg, cheese and ground almonds, spiced with cinnamon and served with sweet white wine; fried sardines stuffed with marjoram, sage, rosemary and saffron, accompanied with a sparkling Lambrusco; hare with a fennel and almond sauce and a full-bodied red from Montepulciano. While the assembled cardinals and bishops gorged themselves, Pope Nicholas ate little and spoke much, engaging Sofia and Bessarion in philosophical debate upon the merits of Saint Augustine and the brilliance of Averoës.

As the evening dragged on with no mention of union or the Synaxis’ letter, Sofia’s mind drifted away from the conversation, which currently focused on the question of free will. She found herself thinking of Longo, of their kiss. She wondered what he was doing now, if he thought of her, and at the same time wondered why she should care so much.

She was brought back to the present by a tap on the shoulder from Pope Nicholas. To her embarrassment, she realized that he had just asked her a question. ‘I fear you were somewhere else for a while, Princess,’ Nicholas said, smiling. ‘Perhaps you were contemplating the beautiful logic of Aquinas.’

Sofia blushed. ‘Something very like, yes Your Holiness,’ she murmured.

‘I was asking what you think of the basilica of Saint Peter,’ Nicholas said. ‘I am contemplating tearing it down and replacing it with a grander structure.’

Sofia was surprised at this. The basilica was a spectacular building. Its towering entrance – massive columns leading to two tiers of arches that held up a peaked roof – was justly famous around the world as a symbol of the papacy. ‘Saint Peter’s has stood for over a thousand years,’ she said. ‘I would hesitate to destroy something so ancient.’

‘The laws and beliefs of the Catholic Church are also ancient, Princess, yet the Synaxis would have me cast them aside. They claim it is to build a greater, unified Church, but just as you say, I am reluctant to destroy something so ancient, so beautiful.’ The Synaxis at last, Sofia thought. The other guests fell silent and leaned forward to hear her reply.

‘You would not be destroying the beliefs of the Church,’ Sofia countered. ‘You would only be adding to them.’

‘And what if I grant the Synaxis’ requests and they still refuse union? I will have humbled the Church for nothing, and perhaps ruined any chance of ever achieving a true union.’ Assent echoed down the table. Only Bessarion kept quiet.

‘What you say is true,’ Sofia replied. ‘The Synaxis might still reject union, even if you accept all their demands. But then the emperor will be free to force the Union through, even if he has to remove every bishop in the Synaxis. They will be unable to stop him, for they have already agreed to union on these terms by signing the letter.’

‘If only I could be as sure as you are, Princess, that Emperor Constantine would indeed enforce the Union even over the complaints of his clergy.’

‘If Leontarsis were not ill, I am certain that he would be here to pledge the emperor’s word. But, since he is not, I will pledge it myself as ambassador of Constantinople.’ Sofia offered a silent prayer of thanks for Leontarsis’s absence. He would have promised no such thing, and in doing so would have ruined all of her hard work.

Nicholas nodded. ‘Very well then,’ he said. ‘I believe that this matter is settled. After the details are attended to, I shall hold an audience where I will recognize the desires of the Eastern bishops, as a prelude to a true union of the Church. I do hope that Leontarsis will be well enough to attend that meeting.’ Nicholas winked. ‘In the meantime, let us begin dessert, and there is a question that I have for you, Princess, concerning our friend Aquinas …’

The audience the pope had promised came sooner than Sofia had expected, only three days later. Sofia was visiting the studio of the famed painter Vittore Pisano when a messenger entered and told her that she was to come to the pope’s audience chamber immediately.

Sofia found Leontarsis wringing his hands as he waited for her outside. ‘Do you know why we were summoned so suddenly?’ Sofia asked. ‘Is the pope ready to officially recognize the Synaxis’ demands?’

Leontarsis shook his head. ‘I thought we were still weeks away from any declaration. Yesterday, we were still working out the exact language of how the pope would be referred to in the unified Church.’

Far above, in the tall square tower of St Peter’s basilica, the bells began to toll the hour of noon, and the doors swung open before them. Sofia’s eyes went first to the pope, sombre on his throne, and then to the man standing beside him, the man whose presence explained the suddenness of this audience: Gregory Mammas, Patriarch of Constantinople.

Sofia and Leontarsis reached the throne together and made their obeisances before the pope. Nicholas gave them a brief, strained smile, and then bid them rise. ‘Leontarsis, Princess Sofia,’ he began. ‘Your presence at our court has been most welcome, as have been the kind words that you have brought from Emperor Constantine. Know that you will both always be welcome in Rome.’ Both Leontarsis and Sofia bowed in recognition.

‘You have offered wise council, and we have had much to reflect on,’ Nicholas continued. ‘In light of all that we have heard and learned, both from you and from the recently arrived Patriarch of Constantinople himself, we declare and decree, in the name of God the Father, the following response to Constantine, Emperor of the Romans.’

A tonsured priest stepped forward and began to read from a sheet of parchment: ‘If you, with your nobles and the people of Constantinople, accept the decree of union, you will find Us and
Our venerable brothers, the cardinals of the holy Roman Church, ever eager to support your honour and your empire. But if you and your people refuse to accept the decree, you will force Us to take such measures as are necessary for your salvation and Our honour.’