The bishop had great love for Balduino; he knew there was kindness in his heart, even though his reign had been marked by a long succession of misadventures. But he was lost in his own thoughts.

Pascal de Molesmes paused in his plea when he realized that the bishop had stopped listening. The sudden silence broke the bishop's reverie.

"I have listened to you and I understand your reasoning, but the king of France cannot barter the fate of Constantinople for possession of the Mandylion," he told the nobleman.

"Our most Christian king has promised the emperor aid; if it is not possible to purchase the Mandylion, he wishes, at least, to hold it for some time. Louis is desirous that his Christian mother, Dona Blanca de Castilla, contemplate the true visage of our Lord Jesus Christ. The Church will not lose possession of the Mandylion, and it could profit by this agreement, Your Excellency, in addition to helping relieve Constantinople from the penury that it now suffers. Believe me, your interests and those of the emperor are the same."

"No, my son, they are not. It is the emperor who needs gold in order to save what remains of the empire."

"Constantinople is dying; the empire is more fiction than reality-someday Christians will weep over its loss."

"Seigneur de Molesmes, I know you to be too intelligent to try to convince me that only the Mandylion can save Constantinople. How much has King Louis offered just to hold it-how much to possess it? It would take great amounts of gold to save this kingdom, and the king of France is rich, but he will not ruin his own kingdom financially, no matter how much he loves his nephew or desires the Mandylion."

De Molesmes's throat was parched. He had not even tasted the glass of no doubt superb Rhodes wine that the bishop had offered him. But such were the sacrifices of diplomacy.

"If the amount was considerable enough, would Your Excellency consent to its sale or lending?"

"No. Tell the emperor that I will not surrender it to him. That is my final word. Pope Innocent would excommunicate me. For many years the pope has desired to possess the Mandylion, and I have always put him off by arguing against exposing the shroud to the perils of such a journey. I would need the Holy Father's permission, and even in the unlikely event he were to consider granting it, you know that he would name a high | price-a price that, even should Louis be able to pay, i would be for the Church, not for his nephew the emperor.

Pascal de Molesmes decided to play his last card. "I remind you, Your Excellency, that the Mandylion does not belong to you. It was the troops of the emperor Romanus Lecapenus who brought it to Constantinople, and the empire has never renounced its ownership of the cloth. The Church is but a repository for the Mandylion. Balduino bids you turn it over voluntarily, and he shall be generous with you and with the Church."

De Molesmes's words fell like lead on the bishop's spirit.

'Are you threatening me, Seigneur de Molesmes? Is the emperor threatening the Church?"

"Balduino, as you well know, is a most loving and beloved son of the Church, which he would defend with his own life if need be. The Mandylion is part of the empire's legacy, and the emperor is claiming it. I urge you to do your duty"

"My duty is to defend the image of Christ and preserve it for all Christianity."

"You did not oppose the sale of the crown of thorns, which was kept in the monastery of Pantocrator, to the king of France."

'Ah, Seigneur de Molesmes. Do you honestly believe that that was Jesus' crown of thorns?"

"You do not?"

A look of fury came into the bishop's blue eyes. The tension between the two men was rising, and both knew that at any moment the bonds of civility might break

"Seigneur de Molesmes, nothing you have said has changed my mind. You may tell that to the emperor."

Pascal de Molesmes bowed his head. The duel had ended for the moment, but both men knew that neither victory nor defeat could be declared on either side.

At the gate of the bishop's palace, de Molesmes's servants were waiting beside his horse, a stallion as black as night, his most trusted companion in turbulent Constantinople.

Would he advise Balduino to go with his soldiers to the bishop's palace and force him to turn over the Mandylion? There was no other choice, it seemed. Innocent would never dare excommunicate Balduino, much less when he knew that the Mandylion would be in the keeping of the most Christian king Louis IX of France. They would lend it to Louis and they would put a high price on it, so that the empire might recover at least part of its lost glory.

The evening breeze was warm and soft, and the emperor's counselor decided to ride down by the shore of the Bosphorus before returning to the imperial palace. From time to time he liked to escape the oppressive walls of the palace, where intrigues, betrayal, and death lay behind every door, at every turning of the stair, and where it was not easy to know who your friends were and who wished you ill, given the refined art of dissembling practiced by the knights and ladies of the court. He trusted only Balduino, for whom, with the passing of the years, he had come to feel true affection, as in earlier days he had felt for good King Louis.

It had been many winters now since the king of France sent him to the court of the emperor to protect the gold the king had sent as payment for the valuable relics Balduino had sold him along with the lands of Namur. Louis had charged de Molesmes with remaining at the court and keeping him informed of all that happened in Constantinople. In a letter that de Molesmes himself had delivered to the emperor, Louis had commended Pascal de Molesmes to his nephew as a good Christian man who, the letter said, looked only to Balduino's good.

Balduino and he had felt a current of sympathy from the first moment, and there he was now, fifteen years later, the emperor's chancellor and friend. De Molesmes greatly admired Balduino's efforts to maintain the dignity of the empire, to preserve Constantinople, to resist the Bulgar pressure on the one side and the encroachments of the Saracens on the other.

If he had not pledged undying loyalty to King Louis and Balduino, he would have asked to join the Order of Templars years ago, so that he might do battle in the Holy Land. But fate had sent him to the heart of the court in Constantinople, where there were as many dangers to negotiate as on the field of battle.

The sun was beginning to drop below the horizon when he realized that he had ridden almost to the gate of the Temple's castle. He had great respect for Andre de Saint-Remy, the superior of the order, an austere and upright man who had chosen the cross and sword as his life. Both men were Frenchmen and nobles, and both had found their destiny in Constantinople.

De Molesmes felt a sudden desire to speak with his compatriot, but the shadows of night were falling and the knights would be at prayer. It would be better to wait until tomorrow to send a message to Saint-Remy and arrange a meeting, he thought.

Balduino slammed his fist into the wall. Fortunately, a tapestry softened the blow to his knuckles.

Pascal de Molesmes had told him in detail of his conversation with the bishop and the bishop's refusal to hand over the Mandylion.

The emperor had known that it was most unlikely that the bishop would voluntarily agree to his request, but he had prayed for that success most fervendy to God, prayed for a miracle to save the empire.

The Frenchman, unable to disguise his irritation at the emperor's display of emotion, looked at him reproachfully.

"Don't look at me like that! I am the most wretched of men!"

"My lord, be calm. The bishop will have no choice but to deliver the Mandylion over to us."