Captain Skender we moved off.
‘I love a procession,’ said Valentina, ‘but I never imagined I’d have my very own.’
She laughed aloud when she saw the boat waiting for us at the quay. It was a red and gold confection, as outrageous as the Doge’s barge, draped with silk and flying golden banners at each end. Thirty oarsmen rowed us quickly across the Golden Horn, to where another carriage waited.
‘I quite like Constantinople so far,’ said Valentina. ‘This city knows how to greet its visitors properly.’
Al-Qasim smiled. ‘It is true, hospitality is very important here. You are honoured guests. But I’m afraid not every day will be like this one.’
‘A pity,’ said Valentina.
It was a short drive, the road cleared of people by Captain Skender and his kapici , who marched quickly up the hills, their eyes straight ahead, their pikes held steady.
The streets were narrow in places, framed on each side by rows of brightly painted wooden houses reaching high into the sky. We saw a few old men leading donkeys down laneways, children playing in the snow, a cart piled high with firewood. Most people were inside, windows shuttered against the cold. I wished, more than once, that we were sitting at home by the fire, drinking sugary coffee.
As we reached the palace walls, our procession slowed and came to a halt in front of the Imperial Gate. It was open, and in front of it stood another fifty or so kapici . On the far side, facing us, were two rows of guards with swords drawn.
‘They look rather fearsome,’ I whispered.
‘Gorgeous,’ said Valentina. ‘But in a ferocious sort of way.’
‘They are janissaries, the elite imperial corps,’ said Al-Qasim. ‘They are not merely decorative.’
‘I can see that,’ I said. Even in the dull winter light, their blades shimmered.
I glanced around to check on Willem. He was gazing up at the walls that towered above us.
‘What if they don’t let Willem in?’ I asked.
‘Anyone at all is allowed inside the First Court,’ said Al-Qasim. ‘Ordinary people, servants — everyone. It can get very busy. Beyond the next gate, the Gate of Salutation, is the Second Court. Not everyone is able to enter there, but Willem is so obviously a foreigner and one of our party that he will be treated with respect.’
‘But he won’t know what they’re saying to him,’ I said.
‘He is quite safe, don’t worry,’ said Al-Qasim. ‘It’s not him I’m worried about.’ He reached for our hands. ‘Please, remember what I told you. Beyond the gates, we must be silent. No one can speak out loud, not even you, my dear signora , and only the highest of the high are permitted to ride through the Imperial Gate.’
‘Don’t worry so,’ I said. ‘We will both be good.’
‘We promise,’ said Valentina.
‘Of course you will,’ said Al-Qasim. He sat back, as if reassured. ‘Now, when they give the signal, we will step down and they will escort us into the guardroom to wait, probably for some time, before we walk to the Gate of Salutation.’
‘I hope it’s warm in there,’ said Valentina.
A trumpet sounded. Al-Qasim glanced around. ‘What’s this?’
‘Is something wrong?’ I asked.
‘I’m not sure … I … it is unexpected.’
He clutched the side of the carriage as it lurched forward. The kapici raised their pikes to shoulder height.
‘What’s going on?’ said Valentina.
‘This is quite extraordinary,’ said Al-Qasim. ‘Perhaps the ceremonies have changed since last I was here.’
Inside the gate, the kapici fanned out into a semicircle in front of us and stopped. Then, as if at some unspoken signal, the janissaries turned abruptly on their heels and began to march, peeling off into two long columns. A hundred men in bright silks and feathers led the way as our carriage passed right under the Imperial Gate and into the First Court of the Sultan’s Palace. Captain Skender walked solemnly in front of us, his curved sword drawn.
‘It
‘I love a procession,’ said Valentina, ‘but I never imagined I’d have my very own.’
She laughed aloud when she saw the boat waiting for us at the quay. It was a red and gold confection, as outrageous as the Doge’s barge, draped with silk and flying golden banners at each end. Thirty oarsmen rowed us quickly across the Golden Horn, to where another carriage waited.
‘I quite like Constantinople so far,’ said Valentina. ‘This city knows how to greet its visitors properly.’
Al-Qasim smiled. ‘It is true, hospitality is very important here. You are honoured guests. But I’m afraid not every day will be like this one.’
‘A pity,’ said Valentina.
It was a short drive, the road cleared of people by Captain Skender and his kapici , who marched quickly up the hills, their eyes straight ahead, their pikes held steady.
The streets were narrow in places, framed on each side by rows of brightly painted wooden houses reaching high into the sky. We saw a few old men leading donkeys down laneways, children playing in the snow, a cart piled high with firewood. Most people were inside, windows shuttered against the cold. I wished, more than once, that we were sitting at home by the fire, drinking sugary coffee.
As we reached the palace walls, our procession slowed and came to a halt in front of the Imperial Gate. It was open, and in front of it stood another fifty or so kapici . On the far side, facing us, were two rows of guards with swords drawn.
‘They look rather fearsome,’ I whispered.
‘Gorgeous,’ said Valentina. ‘But in a ferocious sort of way.’
‘They are janissaries, the elite imperial corps,’ said Al-Qasim. ‘They are not merely decorative.’
‘I can see that,’ I said. Even in the dull winter light, their blades shimmered.
I glanced around to check on Willem. He was gazing up at the walls that towered above us.
‘What if they don’t let Willem in?’ I asked.
‘Anyone at all is allowed inside the First Court,’ said Al-Qasim. ‘Ordinary people, servants — everyone. It can get very busy. Beyond the next gate, the Gate of Salutation, is the Second Court. Not everyone is able to enter there, but Willem is so obviously a foreigner and one of our party that he will be treated with respect.’
‘But he won’t know what they’re saying to him,’ I said.
‘He is quite safe, don’t worry,’ said Al-Qasim. ‘It’s not him I’m worried about.’ He reached for our hands. ‘Please, remember what I told you. Beyond the gates, we must be silent. No one can speak out loud, not even you, my dear signora , and only the highest of the high are permitted to ride through the Imperial Gate.’
‘Don’t worry so,’ I said. ‘We will both be good.’
‘We promise,’ said Valentina.
‘Of course you will,’ said Al-Qasim. He sat back, as if reassured. ‘Now, when they give the signal, we will step down and they will escort us into the guardroom to wait, probably for some time, before we walk to the Gate of Salutation.’
‘I hope it’s warm in there,’ said Valentina.
A trumpet sounded. Al-Qasim glanced around. ‘What’s this?’
‘Is something wrong?’ I asked.
‘I’m not sure … I … it is unexpected.’
He clutched the side of the carriage as it lurched forward. The kapici raised their pikes to shoulder height.
‘What’s going on?’ said Valentina.
‘This is quite extraordinary,’ said Al-Qasim. ‘Perhaps the ceremonies have changed since last I was here.’
Inside the gate, the kapici fanned out into a semicircle in front of us and stopped. Then, as if at some unspoken signal, the janissaries turned abruptly on their heels and began to march, peeling off into two long columns. A hundred men in bright silks and feathers led the way as our carriage passed right under the Imperial Gate and into the First Court of the Sultan’s Palace. Captain Skender walked solemnly in front of us, his curved sword drawn.
‘It
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