A gentle eastern breeze carried the distinct scents of the salty Marmara and the sweet Bosporus, enveloping Constantinople.
The bustling streets of the city teemed with a multitude of people, flowing like a river in and out of its winding paths.
On the distant horizon, a vast array of vessels graced the waters, ranging from humble fishing boats to majestic merchant fleets.
The desolation that had once gripped the city was now a distant memory.
This was how the Queen of the City should be, just as Constantinople should be—a vibrant mosaic of squares filled with individuals from diverse backgrounds, ethnicities, and walks of life.
While one form of desolation had faded into the annals of history, another still lingered.
Throughout her existence, the city had endured much. In her glory days, she had been celebrated; in her times of suffering, she had been scorned; and in her moments of agony, she had been forsaken.
Over the centuries of her existence, she had witnessed countless events, sent forth armies, and received peoples from far and wide.
Death, war, conquest—she had experienced them all. But the infamous Black Death was unlike any adversary she had faced before.
This merciless assassin knew no distinction between day and night; it struck with the suddenness of a storm and departed just as swiftly.
No matter the efforts of her children to ward it off, death relentlessly followed in its wake. It had become a grim and recurring presence, an adversary against whom she seemed powerless.
In times of war, she could repel; during conquests, she could be freed; in death, she could rise again.
Yet, in the face of the plague, there was nothing she could do. The very earth upon which her mother had dwelled seemed to have forsaken her, and she was not alone in her suffering.
Many of her sister cities watched in horror as their own children perished, without any room for negotiation or compromise.
The agony persisted across countless ages, with her children crying out to her. Their most fervent pleas were directed toward their unseen Father, yet their cries remained unanswered.
"For God so loved the world that He gave His only begotten Son, that whoever believes in Him should not perish but have everlasting life."
Despite their unwavering faith, love failed to rescue them. Even those who believed ultimately perished, their lives never attaining lasting tranquility.
And so, the anguished cry of His only begotten Son echoed harshly, "My God, my God, why have You forsaken me?"
As for how long her suffering would endure, no one could say, for destiny changed hands with each passing moment.
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As the messenger end his reporting, in that very moment, John exited the throne room and the palace square, his steps hastening, and his heart thudding incessantly like a relentless drumbeat.
The instant the messenger uttered the name 'Anna Vasilyevna,' his thoughts raced at an unprecedented pace, forsaking any prior considerations of the plague, and he simply... departed.
He didn't make any effort to verify the messenger's report; he simply turned and run away.
His destination was Neorion Harbor, the most prosperous harbor in the city, the place where the messenger had indicated the vessel of the Grand Prince was anchored.
He couldn't fathom why the vessel was here and why they sought him, but an ominous feeling gnawed at him, hinting at something unpleasant he hoped to avoid.
John was aware of the Grand Principalities' struggles with the plague. However, the fact that the princess had sailed all the way to Constantinople boded ill.
Although John held onto the hope that things wouldn't be as dire as he feared, he couldn't shake the nagging sense of foreboding.
He believed that as long as her family remained secluded in their homes, they would remain safe, even if the plague continued to spread.
After an exhausting half-hour sprint, during which he inadvertently bumped into numerous people along the way, he finally reached the bustling harbor.
Without a moment to recover his breath, he hurried over to one of the dock officials and urgently inquired about the location of the vessel transporting the Grand Prince's entourage.
The dock official, a weathered man with salt-and-pepper hair, looked up from his manifest with a curious expression.
"The Grand Prince's vessel? It's anchored at the far end of the harbor, near the royal pier. But, lad, you seem out of breath. Are you in some kind of hurry?"
John nodded, his heart still racing. "Indeed, I am. It's a matter of utmost importance."
The official, sensing the urgency in John's voice, pointed the way.
"Very well, young man. You'll find it there. Just remember, haste often leads to unforeseen troubles. May fortune favor your journey."
With a nod of thanks, John sprinted once more, determined to uncover the mystery that had drawn him to the harbor on this fateful day.
As he closed in on the Grand Prince's vessel, his mind raced with thoughts of what lay ahead, for he could not ignore the foreboding sense what this encounter would bring.
As he approached the vessel indicated by the officials, the Grand Prince's entourage, he noticed several individuals wearing masks that concealed their faces, giving the impression that they were trying to avoid something.
However, he could still detect an underlying weariness in them, even though it remained hidden from view.
Speaking in Russian, a language he had been learning during his exchanges with Anna over the past few months, he inquired,
"Is this the vessel transporting the Princess of the Grand Principality of Vladimir and Moskva? Is Princess Anna aboard?"
The men gazed at the fatigued man before them and nodded.
"Yes, this is the vessel. Are you His Highness John Palaiologos?" they confirmed before posing a question of their own.
"Yes, I am indeed he whom the princess is expecting, John Palaiologos, the co-emperor of this empire."
As he introduced himself, the masked men saluted him out of respect and then summoned another man from within the ship.
Ivar emerged, also wearing a mask. When he spotted John, his initial joy was evident, but his expression quickly soured.
"Ivar? It's been a long time. What happened? Why are you here?"
"Oh, Your Highness, you can speak Russian now... It hasn't been that long, but something happened in Moskva."
"Well, what happened?"
"It's difficult for me to say this... But the princess has contracted the plague..."
As Ivar delivered the news, John was left dumbfounded.
"What—How?"
"I think you should ask her about that... Here, wear this... And please, keep your distance from her; you might fall ill yourself..."
Ivar escorted John to Anna's cabin, which was guarded by several men.
Inside, the room was shrouded in layers of pristine white linen, obscuring everything except for the faint outline of her bed. It was so heavily draped that only her silhouette remained visible.
"Milady, I have brought His Highness with me," Ivar announced from outside the cabin.
"Oh, is that so? Please, do let him in," her melodious voice responded, granting them entry.
John's heart pounded louder and louder as the voice grew closer. When he and Ivar finally entered the cabin, the figure he had seen that night was nowhere to be found.
Instead, he was greeted by shrouded shadows that danced amidst the gentle glow of the sun.
The air carried a faintly familiar, sweet aroma, mingling with the sharp scent of medicinal herbs, enveloping the cabin in a complex tapestry of scents.
"Anna," he unconsciously uttered, his voice wavering.
"Your Highness John, you've come... Please forgive me for not being able to personally receive you. I... am not in the best of health, as you can see,"
Her voice quivered upon hearing the familiar tone she hadn't heard in a long time.
"How...how did this happen?" John questioned in disbelief. This was not how he had envisioned their reunion, and he was deeply shocked by the moment.
"The Black Death struck my country, claiming the lives of many of my people," Anna replied, her voice carrying the weight of sorrow. "In an effort to comfort them, I went out of my way to provide solace."
"But, why... You do realize it put your own life in danger," John said, concern evident in his eyes.
"I cannot abandon my people," Anna responded with determination. "As I wrote in my letters, my duty is a burden I carry with pride. Even if death comes knocking at my door, I will do whatever it takes for my people."
"Still—"
"Oh, please, your highness, the past is behind us," Anna interrupted. "I did what I had to do."
Silence enveloped them. John was still in shock, struggling to process the sudden turn of events. In a world where he had finally found reasons to be happy and a love he had never known, he was confronted with this cruel reality.
"How long..." John asked indirectly after a while.
Ivar instinctively responded, "According to our royal physician, she only has three weeks left. She was afflicted a week ago, just four days before our arrival. So, she now has just two weeks."
"Has her condition worsened during the journey?"
"No, she has remained stable. The servant who dressed her reported that the symptoms are progressing very slowly. For now, her condition is stable, with the exception of an occasional cough," Ivar grimly replied.
John couldn't help but feel relieved upon hearing this news. It meant that there was still time. However, time was not on their side, even if it was still on hers.
"Take her to the hospital. I will arrange for a carriage and escorts. In the meantime, I need you to follow my instructions..."
John leaned in closer to Ivar and whispered a few things that left Ivar shocked and slightly outraged.
"That—"
"Not now. I'll explain the reasons later. But I hope you can do as I've asked and prepare the princess."
Ivar sighed and reluctantly agreed to John's suggestions.
"Are you leaving? We haven't talked for long—"
"We can catch up later, but right now, you need to get to the hospital."
"But going to the hospital seems futile. Even our royal physician couldn't find a cure, so how—"
"We will find a way, and I have a plan... one I hoped I wouldn't need to use, but I do have a plan."
Anna was left momentarily speechless by John's determination. Although she didn't know the details of his plan, she was touched by his concern for her.
"I understand."
With a sense of urgency, John hurriedly disembarked from the vessel, making his way to the nearest official.
Their astonishment at his unexpected visit quickly turned to recognition as they realized it was John, their co-emperor.
Despite their initial perplexity, they obliged and began preparing a discreet carriage.
Inside the Grand Prince vessel, a heated dispute between the ship's captain and Ivar resounded, echoing through the docks and drawing startled murmurs from onlookers.
"Are you suggesting we set the ship ablaze? Is he out of his mind?"
"Just follow his orders; he promises to provide a better ship later..."
"But even so..."
"Save your questions for later; let's just do as he says..."
After a few moments of contentious arguments, the captain reluctantly relented.
"I hope you're right about this, or else..."
Ivar could only offer a wry smile in response, unable to fully grasp the gravity of the situation he found himself in.
Meanwhile, in the cabin where the princess was located, servants gathered to prepare her for departure. Soon, the carriage commissioned by John arrived at the dock where the ship was anchored.
After instructing all the crew to disembark, the captain reluctantly permitted some of his crewmates to set fire to the ship at Ivar's insistence.
He shed tears for a long while, consoled by his fellow crewmembers, all the while muttering curses against John under his breath.
Meanwhile, John, Ivar, and the carriage had already left the vicinity of the dock, heading toward a nearby hospital not far from the iconic Hagia Sophia, housed within the great cathedral square.