world, neither wanted to accept that this journey, almost complete, to a new continent and a new life might not make the difference both hoped for. And so they fucked the dark into light through another day and, as the setting sun turned the new world a deep red, they arrived in Africa, each knowing the other a little better, and not necessarily happier to be wiser.
Ten
After a full night and most of a day given to their bodies, the landing was a disappointing return to the real world. When they disembarked in the port of Apollonia, the centre from which the new Governor would rule the Five Cities, the harbour waters were choppy, the moorings littered with rotting vegetable matter and packing materials from the last ship in dock, and the Governor’s retinue that arrived to greet them stood in a slovenly mass of bodies that gradually morphed into a few soldiers, an ageing household master and someone who announced himself as Hecebolus’ new treasurer but who, given his lack of beard and the uncertain timbre of his voice, would have been better used playing Theodora’s understudy.
The messy welcoming party led them along a pitted road that had long lost its Roman elegance, to a house that was little bigger than the tenement where Theodora was raised. True, she and Hecebolus didn’t have to share it with four other families, nor was their water supply from a single well at the far end of the street, but they did need to make space for the servants his status demanded, and the various clerks he would have to employ under his own roof. Overcrowding was a minor problem, compared to the architecture of the place. Theodora had always thrilled to space and light. She adored the openness of the Kynegion stage, the high gallery of Hagia Sophia, had performed in hundreds of private homes where the views from balconies and terraces conformed to therevered Constantinopolitan law that no one home should block the sea view of another. Even in poverty, Theodora had understood that much suffering could be alleviated by light and space, and if she couldn’t have that at home or in the crowded streets of her home town, she had always been able to find it on the Marmara shore, in the expansive arc of an aqueduct, or high on one of the City’s hills. There was virtually no natural light in her new home. The Governor’s dwelling was sensibly made of thick walls, designed to keep out the brutal North African summer heat; it had high narrow windows too, to make it harder for the fine gritty sand to flow in, though flow it did. Even if their home had been staffed by the most accomplished servants, it would have been impossible to keep the place truly clean at this time of year, when the building was daily assailed by a sand so fine and constant it became a solid dust in the air, in the eyes, the throat – and their home was not staffed by the most accomplished servants.
As a star in her own right, Theodora had grown accustomed to good service. In Apollonia though, she was no star, she wasn’t even Hecebolus’ wife. At best she was considered his companion, an assistant perhaps, but not the mistress of the new home, and certainly not someone with the right to order incompetent and insolent servants. It was a mess in which Hecebolus was meant to entertain bishops, play Governor, demand taxes from recalcitrant overlords, all the while carrying out any number of reforms that were bound to alienate the local populace. The residence needed to look like a mini-palace and Theodora, once she overcame her initial disappointment, had plenty of suggestions for ways to achieve this. She was furious that her renovation plans needed to be turned into requests for finances, and her orders to the higher-ranking staff had to go through Hecebolus’ clerk. In Constantinople she had known her place,it was flung in her face by every arrogant patrician wife who caught her husband staring too openly at Theodora’s breasts or was said to applaud too heartily
Ten
After a full night and most of a day given to their bodies, the landing was a disappointing return to the real world. When they disembarked in the port of Apollonia, the centre from which the new Governor would rule the Five Cities, the harbour waters were choppy, the moorings littered with rotting vegetable matter and packing materials from the last ship in dock, and the Governor’s retinue that arrived to greet them stood in a slovenly mass of bodies that gradually morphed into a few soldiers, an ageing household master and someone who announced himself as Hecebolus’ new treasurer but who, given his lack of beard and the uncertain timbre of his voice, would have been better used playing Theodora’s understudy.
The messy welcoming party led them along a pitted road that had long lost its Roman elegance, to a house that was little bigger than the tenement where Theodora was raised. True, she and Hecebolus didn’t have to share it with four other families, nor was their water supply from a single well at the far end of the street, but they did need to make space for the servants his status demanded, and the various clerks he would have to employ under his own roof. Overcrowding was a minor problem, compared to the architecture of the place. Theodora had always thrilled to space and light. She adored the openness of the Kynegion stage, the high gallery of Hagia Sophia, had performed in hundreds of private homes where the views from balconies and terraces conformed to therevered Constantinopolitan law that no one home should block the sea view of another. Even in poverty, Theodora had understood that much suffering could be alleviated by light and space, and if she couldn’t have that at home or in the crowded streets of her home town, she had always been able to find it on the Marmara shore, in the expansive arc of an aqueduct, or high on one of the City’s hills. There was virtually no natural light in her new home. The Governor’s dwelling was sensibly made of thick walls, designed to keep out the brutal North African summer heat; it had high narrow windows too, to make it harder for the fine gritty sand to flow in, though flow it did. Even if their home had been staffed by the most accomplished servants, it would have been impossible to keep the place truly clean at this time of year, when the building was daily assailed by a sand so fine and constant it became a solid dust in the air, in the eyes, the throat – and their home was not staffed by the most accomplished servants.
As a star in her own right, Theodora had grown accustomed to good service. In Apollonia though, she was no star, she wasn’t even Hecebolus’ wife. At best she was considered his companion, an assistant perhaps, but not the mistress of the new home, and certainly not someone with the right to order incompetent and insolent servants. It was a mess in which Hecebolus was meant to entertain bishops, play Governor, demand taxes from recalcitrant overlords, all the while carrying out any number of reforms that were bound to alienate the local populace. The residence needed to look like a mini-palace and Theodora, once she overcame her initial disappointment, had plenty of suggestions for ways to achieve this. She was furious that her renovation plans needed to be turned into requests for finances, and her orders to the higher-ranking staff had to go through Hecebolus’ clerk. In Constantinople she had known her place,it was flung in her face by every arrogant patrician wife who caught her husband staring too openly at Theodora’s breasts or was said to applaud too heartily
Similar Books
