The 19th of June was possibly the most confusing day of Estienne's life. First there had been word that the wall had been breached and the city was within their grasp. Then word had come that the city had indeed surrendered – but not to the massed army outside its walls. The city had surrendered to the Emperor. Alexios' banners flew from every high point in the town.

To be honest, Estienne was both relieved and disappointed. There was to be no slaughter of the inhabitants, no burning of the ancient buildings. The people of Nicæa would be left to live their lives unmolested. Estienne thought that Brother Richard would have approved. But still – to know that he had come this close to the city he had dreamed of, and yet was not to be allowed to step within his gates, that was a grave disappointment. Estienne felt like a child again, a child looking in awe at a painted city, while the real place, teeming with living, breathing inhabitants, lurked just beyond his grasp.

Everything was in confusion in the town as well. Nilufar spent the morning weeping, while Theodora spent it exulting. Alexios now controlled their fates. Knowing she was safe from the babarians did not make Nilufar feel any better; her father served the Sultan, and she was sure that meant that she and her mother were in grave danger.

The two girls did not see each other for several days. Nilufar spent them in the house, like a frightened animal, not moving, not thinking, simply frozen. Theodora, on the other hand, spent the first few days after the siege was lifted flirting with the men Alexios had garrisoned within the town. She had never seen quite so many handsome men all in one place before; and they all spoke Greek, too! When Theodora did seek Nilufar out, she was not surprised to find Niulfar still crying; but she was surprised to find out why.

Theodora climbed in through the window, as usual, and patted Nilufar's shoulder.

 “My life is over,” Nilufar groaned, dramatically.

“I am sure that is not true,” Theodora snorted. “The siege is over, and Alexios' men haven't hurt anybody. Even the Sultana is unharmed!”

“I know, but Theodora - “

“What is it?” Theodora asked, peering at her friend, eyes narrowed.

“I have to go to Constantinople!”

“What?!” Theodora looked incensed.

“Alexios has ordered the Sultan's family and close associates to go to Constantinople. I don't know why. I only know that because my father is somewhere out there with the Sultan, my mother and I have to go. They might never let us go, Theodora. I will die there!”

To this, Theodora grumpily replied, “I hate you.”

“What? Why?” Nilufar said in confusion.

“You get to go to Constantinople! All my life, I have wanted to go to Constantinople, but you're afraid of the place – and you get to go, while I have to stay here!This isn't fair!”

Nilufar felt she was justified in saying it one last time: “Shut up, Theodora.”

 It was two days later that Estienne, at long last, got permission to enter the city. Alexios' men were letting members of the foreign army into the city ten at a time, and only under escort. Estienne pulled every string he could find to make sure that he made it inside the walls. Now that he was here, he was not sure it had been worth it. The streets were narrow, jumbled buildings rising in a hodgepodge of stone and brick above his head. He did not know where to go to see the room that had held the two hundred bishops, or to see the marketplace, or to see beautiful buildings, or to see anything that might be worth seeing. He was grateful that the city had not been destroyed, but he wished desperately that he had stayed at home.

He stopped for a while in the neighbourhood near the Sultan's palace. Despite the fact that the people milling around all seemed to be local, they appeared to be pillaging the area, carrying valuables out of houses, packing them up to take away.

“What is happening?” Estienne asked his Byzantine escort.

“These are the members of the Sultan's family and those of his advisors. The Basileus has ordered them all to be taken under guard to Constantinople.”

Estienne watched the people for a moment. Women, mostly, and children. “What will happen to them?”

The young solider shrugged. “I don't know. I imagine Alexios will try to ransom them back to the Seljuks. But I am not so sure that the Seljuks will be able to pay.”

Estienne made a face; he had no qualms with killing men, especially men who faced him on the field of battled, armed and armoured. But women and children, even if they were Turks, that was a different matter. He watched the people a little longer. He imagined them walking to Constantinople, a long trek, but made all the worse by his mind. For, in Estienne's imagination, it was no longer June. There was snow on the ground, and the imaginary mountains through which the barefoot prisoners travelled were taller than the Alps.

The young woman – girl, really – closest to Estienne had a miserable, pinched expression. She simply looked lost. She reminded Estienne of his eldest daughter. His daughter had looked that way when her grandmother had died. Estienne wondered if, during the siege, someone beloved by this young Seljuk woman had died, or if it was simply the situation. And, as he had done for his own daughter, he wanted to say something kind to the girl, give her some comfort, some advice. His mind struggled to find the Greek words – he had learned nothing but the Kyrie in his childhood, and was only starting to pick the Greek up from Alexios' men now – but he finally came up with something. He consulted quickly with his imperial escort, who laughed and had to ask twice for Estienne to explain what he was trying to say, but then told Estienne the proper translation. Estienne waved to the girl, catching her attention. She frowned at him.

“Maiden,” Estienne said, “Always forgive your enemies; nothing annoys them so much.”

Without waiting for a reply, Estienne turned and walked away. He was still hoping to see something worth seeing, before he had to leave.

Nilufar stood, staring at the strange Frankish soldier who had been rude enough to address her. What stupid advice, she thought. Her enemies would not forgive her; why should she forgive them? But then again, she reflected, as the man walked away, she wasn't sure who her enemies were. She supposed she would find out, once she had made it to Constantinople.