rubble. Together, we picked our way across the courtyard. Never once did the beggars look up from their frantic scavenging and their squeals of exultation whenever a coin came to light amid the filth.
At last, I was in Middle Street. From the poor district, it was a matter of climbing over another collapsed building, then of finding the one flight of steps that led upward to a street that, long since abandoned, still had the names of shops written in Latin. From here, it was a short cut through an alley. Middle Street itself was largely empty at this time of day. But it was a relief to stand on paving stones again and to breathe uncorrupted air.
I stood in the shade of a triumphal arch begun and never finished by the Great Justinian towards the end of his reign, and looked west at the looming mass of the land walls. ‘I have business outside the City,’ I said, breaking a long silence. ‘I’ll give orders in the guardhouse for you to be escorted back to your lodgings.’ I stopped and tried once more to think through what else I had in mind. ‘You can come and see me tomorrow morning and explain your clients’ petition. They took you on in good faith. Whatever the irregularities, it’s only fair that I should hear what brought them all the way to Constantinople.’ I kept my voice neutral. ‘Since they have no money, I will pay the customary fee. We can settle that in the guardhouse.’
I thought Antonia would reject an offer of outright charity. I bent down and, taking care not to rub it in, brushed a patch of brick dust from my left boot. I stood up again and stared in silence along the quarter mile of street that separated us from the walls. Much of it was waste nowadays. Here and there, though, you could see little fields laid out and planted with crops. They were a cheerful sight. They showed how at least some people in the City were standing on their own feet.
I stood up straight again and looked at Antonia. Her face wasn’t a mask of happiness. But she was bright as well as proud. My offer could be seen as a professional courtesy. It had no obvious strings attached. She’d be a fool not to take it. ‘Come and see me at the third hour of light,’ I said. ‘Give your name to the doorman. He’ll know that you’re expected.’ She still said nothing. I stepped out of the shadow and didn’t look round to see if I was followed. After so long in shade or comparative shade, the sunlight was dazzling. I wondered if I should give her my hat. No need. When I did look back, she’d been rather inventive with my napkin. It did suit her, I had to admit.
Chapter 11
You will have noticed, Dear Reader, that this is a story of digressions. Some of these might usefully be pruned. This one, I think, is needed. When I speak of places and events inside Constantinople, it doesn’t much matter whether you know the City. It is a very, very big city. Even after five years of exploration, driven by my own eccentric tastes and by professional duty, there were still courtyards here and there, and whole streets and short cuts between streets, that I didn’t yet know. Don’t worry if you cannot exactly place all that I describe inside the walls. Unless you know its general situation, though, all that I say regarding the outside of the City might as well be in the language of one of the peoples who live beyond the furthest limits of the East.
Let me say, then, that Constantinople, by universal acclaim the greatest city in the world and sole capital – now Rome itself was a pile of ruins effectively owned by the Pope – of the Roman Empire, sits on a blunted triangle at the far edge of Europe. Its apex looks east, across five hundred yards of water, to the Asiatic shore. Its north-eastern side faces on to the Golden Horn, a big sheltered harbour that makes the City a centre of all trade. Its western and only landed side is guarded by an immense double fortification, four miles long, built when Thrace was almost a
At last, I was in Middle Street. From the poor district, it was a matter of climbing over another collapsed building, then of finding the one flight of steps that led upward to a street that, long since abandoned, still had the names of shops written in Latin. From here, it was a short cut through an alley. Middle Street itself was largely empty at this time of day. But it was a relief to stand on paving stones again and to breathe uncorrupted air.
I stood in the shade of a triumphal arch begun and never finished by the Great Justinian towards the end of his reign, and looked west at the looming mass of the land walls. ‘I have business outside the City,’ I said, breaking a long silence. ‘I’ll give orders in the guardhouse for you to be escorted back to your lodgings.’ I stopped and tried once more to think through what else I had in mind. ‘You can come and see me tomorrow morning and explain your clients’ petition. They took you on in good faith. Whatever the irregularities, it’s only fair that I should hear what brought them all the way to Constantinople.’ I kept my voice neutral. ‘Since they have no money, I will pay the customary fee. We can settle that in the guardhouse.’
I thought Antonia would reject an offer of outright charity. I bent down and, taking care not to rub it in, brushed a patch of brick dust from my left boot. I stood up again and stared in silence along the quarter mile of street that separated us from the walls. Much of it was waste nowadays. Here and there, though, you could see little fields laid out and planted with crops. They were a cheerful sight. They showed how at least some people in the City were standing on their own feet.
I stood up straight again and looked at Antonia. Her face wasn’t a mask of happiness. But she was bright as well as proud. My offer could be seen as a professional courtesy. It had no obvious strings attached. She’d be a fool not to take it. ‘Come and see me at the third hour of light,’ I said. ‘Give your name to the doorman. He’ll know that you’re expected.’ She still said nothing. I stepped out of the shadow and didn’t look round to see if I was followed. After so long in shade or comparative shade, the sunlight was dazzling. I wondered if I should give her my hat. No need. When I did look back, she’d been rather inventive with my napkin. It did suit her, I had to admit.
Chapter 11
You will have noticed, Dear Reader, that this is a story of digressions. Some of these might usefully be pruned. This one, I think, is needed. When I speak of places and events inside Constantinople, it doesn’t much matter whether you know the City. It is a very, very big city. Even after five years of exploration, driven by my own eccentric tastes and by professional duty, there were still courtyards here and there, and whole streets and short cuts between streets, that I didn’t yet know. Don’t worry if you cannot exactly place all that I describe inside the walls. Unless you know its general situation, though, all that I say regarding the outside of the City might as well be in the language of one of the peoples who live beyond the furthest limits of the East.
Let me say, then, that Constantinople, by universal acclaim the greatest city in the world and sole capital – now Rome itself was a pile of ruins effectively owned by the Pope – of the Roman Empire, sits on a blunted triangle at the far edge of Europe. Its apex looks east, across five hundred yards of water, to the Asiatic shore. Its north-eastern side faces on to the Golden Horn, a big sheltered harbour that makes the City a centre of all trade. Its western and only landed side is guarded by an immense double fortification, four miles long, built when Thrace was almost a
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