“‘So you are interested in the medieval Bulgaria?’ said Stoichev, and it seemed to me that he, too, glanced in Ranov’s direction.

“‘Yes,’ said Helen, coming quickly to my rescue. ‘We are interested in the monastic life of medieval Bulgaria, and we have been researching it as well as we can for some articles we would like to produce. Specifically, we would like to know about life in the monasteries of Bulgaria in the late medieval period, and about some of the routes that brought pilgrims to Bulgaria, and also routes by which pilgrims from Bulgaria traveled to other lands.’

“Stoichev lit up, shaking his head with apparent pleasure so that his large delicate ears caught the light. ‘That is a very good topic,’ he said. He looked beyond us, and I thought he must be gazing into a past so deep that it was really the well of time, and seeing more clearly than perhaps anyone else in the world the period to which we had alluded. ‘Is there something in particular you will write about? I have many manuscripts here that might be useful to you, and I would be happy to permit you to look at them, if you would like.’

“Ranov shifted in his chair, and I thought again how much I disliked his watching us. Fortunately, most of his attention seemed to be focused on Irina’s pretty profile, across the room. ‘Well,’ I said. ‘We’d like to learn more about the fifteenth century-the late fifteenth century, and Miss Rossi here has done quite a bit of work on that period in her family’s native country-that is -’

“‘Romania,’ Helen put in. ‘But I was raised and educated in Hungary.’

“‘Ah, yes-you are our neighbor.’ Professor Stoichev turned to Helen and gave her the gentlest of smiles. ‘And you are from the University of Budapest?’

“‘Yes,’ said Helen.

“‘Perhaps you know my friend there-his name is Professor Sándor.’

“‘Oh, yes. He is the head of our history department. He is quite a friend of mine.’

“‘That is very nice-very nice,’ Professor Stoichev said. ‘Please give him my warmest greetings if you have the chance.’

“‘I will.’ Helen smiled at him.

“‘And who else? I do not think I know anyone else who is there now. But your name, Professor, is very interesting. I know this name. There is in the United States’-he turned to me again, and back to Helen; to my discomfort I saw Ranov’s gaze narrowing on us-‘a famous historian named Rossi. He is perhaps a relative?’

“Helen, to my surprise, flushed pink. I thought maybe she didn’t yet relish admitting this in public, or felt some lingering doubt about doing so, or that perhaps she had noticed Ranov’s sudden attention to the conversation. ‘Yes,’ she said shortly. ‘He is my father, Bartholomew Rossi.’

“I thought Stoichev might very naturally wonder why an English historian’s daughter claimed she was Romanian and had been raised in Hungary, but if he had any such questions he kept them to himself. ‘Yes, that is the name. He has written very fine books-and on such a range of topics!’ He slapped his forehead. ‘When I read some of his early articles, I thought he would make a fine Balkan historian, but I see that he has abandoned that area and gone into many others.’

“I was relieved to hear that Stoichev knew Rossi’s work and thought well of it; this might give us some credentials, in his eyes, and might also make it easier to enlist his sympathies. ‘Yes, indeed,’ I said. ‘In fact, Professor Rossi is not only Helen’s father but also my adviser-I’m working with him on my dissertation.’

“‘How fortunate.’ Stoichev folded one veined hand over the other. ‘And what is your dissertation about?’

“‘Well,’ I began, and this time it was my turn to flush. I hoped Ranov wasn’t watching these changes of color too closely. ‘It’s about Dutch merchants in the seventeenth century.’

“‘Remarkable,’ said Stoichev. ‘That is quite an interesting topic. Then what brings you to Bulgaria?’

“‘It’s a long story,’ I said. ‘Miss Rossi and I became interested in doing some research on connections between Bulgaria and the Orthodox community in Istanbul after the Ottoman conquest of the city. Even though this is a departure from the topic of my dissertation, we have been writing some articles about it. In fact, I’ve also just given a lecture at the University of Budapest on the history of-parts of Romania under the Turks.’ I immediately saw this was a mistake; perhaps Ranov hadn’t known we’d been in Budapest as well as Istanbul. Helen was composed, however, and I took my cue from her. ‘We would like very much to finish our research here in Bulgaria, and we thought you might well be able to help us.’

“‘Of course,’ Stoichev said patiently. ‘Perhaps you could tell me exactly what interests you most about the history of our medieval monasteries and the routes of pilgrimages, and about the fifteenth century in particular. It is a fascinating century in Bulgarian history. You know that after 1393 most of our country was under the Ottoman yoke, although some parts of Bulgaria were not conquered until well into the fifteenth century. Our native intellectual culture was preserved from that time on very much by the monasteries. I am glad you are interested in the monasteries because they are one of the richest sources of our heritage in Bulgaria.’ He paused and refolded his hands, as if waiting to see how familiar this information was to us.

“‘Yes,’ I said. There was no help for it. We would have to talk about some aspect of our search with Ranov sitting right there. After all, if I asked him to leave, he would immediately become suspicious about our purpose here. Our only hope was to make our questions sound as scholarly and impersonal as possible. ‘We believe there are some interesting connections between the Orthodox community in fifteenth-century Istanbul and the monasteries of Bulgaria.’

“‘Yes, of course that is true,’ said Stoichev, ‘especially since the Bulgarian church was placed by Mehmed the Conqueror under the jurisdiction of the patriarch of Constantinople. Before that, of course, our church was independent, with its own patriarch in Veliko Trnovo.’

“I felt a wave of gratitude toward this man with his erudition and wonderful ears. My comments had been close to inane, and yet he was answering them with circumspect-not to mention informative-politeness.

“‘Exactly,’ I said. ‘And we’re especially interested-we found a letter-that is, we were recently in Istanbul ourselves’-I was careful not to glance at Ranov-‘and we found a letter that has to do with Bulgaria-with a group of monks who traveled from Constantinople to a monastery in Bulgaria. We’re interested for the purposes of one of our articles in tracing their route through Bulgaria. Perhaps they were on pilgrimage-we’re not quite sure.’

“‘I see,’ said Stoichev. His eyes were warier and more luminous than ever. ‘Is there any date on this letter? Can you tell me a little about its contents or who wrote it, if you know that, and where you found it? To whom it was addressed, and so on, if you know these things?’

“‘Certainly,’ I said. ‘In fact, we have a copy of it here. The original letter is in Slavonic, and a monk in Istanbul wrote it out for us. The original resides in the state archive of Mehmed II. Perhaps you would like to read the letter for yourself.’ I opened my briefcase and got the copy out, handing it to him, hoping Ranov would not ask for it next.

“Stoichev took the letter and I saw his eyes flash over the opening lines. ‘Interesting,’ he said, and to my disappointment he set it down on the table. Perhaps he was not going to help us after all, or even read the letter. ‘My dear,’ he said, turning to his niece, ‘I don’t think we can look at old letters without offering these guests something to eat and drink. Would you bring usrakiya and a little lunch?’ He nodded with particular politeness toward Ranov.

“Irina rose promptly, smiling. ‘Certainly, Uncle,’ she said, in beautiful English. There was no end, I thought, to the surprises in this household. ‘But I would like some help to bring it up the stairs.’ She gave Ranov the slightest glance from her clear eyes and he got up, smoothing his hair.