28
Within moments of leaving the gate, we were lost-a fact which did not come to our attention until very much later, however, for we walked the close and winding streets, wandering where curiosity took us, searching for the chief treasure house of the city. What had seemed a simple, straightforward matter aboard the ship was quickly shown to be monumentally complicated when standing in the middle of a road ebbing and flowing with people like a restless tide. Our first attempts to gather our wits provoked angry shouts to get out of the way.
"Move on! Move on!" cried a guardsman who happened by. "You cannot stop here. Move on!"
"He says we must move along," I told the Danes.
"Where should we go?" wondered Gunnar.
"Let us follow that man," suggested Orm, pointing to a fat man trailing a long purple cloak. "He will certainly lead us to a treasure house."
"I am the leader," Hnefi reminded him. "I say we shall go the other way."
Thus we proceeded, progressing deeper into the city until we came to a wide street lined with dwellings which for size and the expense of their construction were not to be equalled. They were very palaces.
"You see!" Hnefi crowed proudly. "I know how to find good treasure. Follow me!"
The greedy Sea Wolves strode boldly, declaring loudly which palace should be raided first and which they thought contained the most wealth-no easy decision, as it happened, for every house we saw seemed to possess a grandeur far exceeding any we had ever encountered, and at each and every dwelling the Sea Wolves stood in the street, gazing at the imposing edifice and swearing solemn oaths that here before them stood what was certainly the chief treasure house of the city. And they were happy in this thought until we came to the next.
One street was lined with mansions two and three floors tall, and where the walls of the lowest floor were blank-faced brick, save for the door, the walls of the upper floors boasted windholes covered with glass. I had never seen glass windholes before, but there they were. And on every house in the street! Many of the mansions, if that is what they were, had ornately carved doors, and painted lintels; one or two of these structures boasted carved statuary affixed to plinths beside the windholes. Many were topped with tiled roofs on the slant, but more grand dwellings had flat roofs from which green foliage could be seen. I had heard that wealthy Romans did this, but I had never encountered such wealth before. If that was not enough, nearly every house possessed another feature unknown to me: an extension of the upper floor which overhung the street. These protuberances-remarkably substantial, many of them-were faced with wooden screens which, I suppose, could be opened to allow the cool evening air into the upper rooms.
That a city the size of Constantinople should contain such mansions and palaces was to be expected. But there were scores…hundreds! I walked in a daze of disbelief. I could not comprehend such wealth, nor could I imagine whence it came.
The Danes were beside themselves with delight. They argued continually over which palace must contain the most treasure, and which they should plunder first. Orm was for rushing boldly into any or all of them and simply stealing whatever valuables came to hand. Hnefi was of the opinion that King Harald would want to make the decision which house to plunder.
"But Jarl Harald is not here," Orm complained, his reckoning, as ever, unassailable.
"Then we will wait until he arrives." Hnefi was adamant that we should arouse no undue suspicion among the inhabitants of the city. He reasoned that if we began breaking into every house we saw, it would alert the people and they would certainly be on their guard when we returned for the raid. "It is for us to look and discover where the best treasure is to be found," he declared. "We can come and get it tomorrow."
Orm accepted this with some reluctance, saying, "I still think we should take something back to show the king."
Gunnar agreed with Hnefi, and allowed that it would go ill with us if we aroused the wrath of the people. Alone of the Danes, he appeared cowed by the immensity of the city, growing quieter by degrees-as if he would gladly slink away into the shadows.
So we continued, wandering this way and that, looking at the houses and observing the people. In this part of the city we did not see many inhabitants about, and those we did meet seemed to race about their errands with unseemly haste. Perhaps the look of the barbarians frightened them; I cannot say.
Nevertheless, I saw enough of the citizenry to form the opinion that the Constantinopolitans were in every way an average race: neither very tall nor unduly short; neither exceptionally dark-skinned nor light; in countenance, neither ugly nor remarkably fair. They appeared sturdy of physique, with short strong limbs and compact bodies-more suggestive of vigour than brute power, hardy rather than graceful.
In preference, it appeared the women wore their hair long with the strands wound into coiled tresses; the men were given to full beards which they wore oiled and elaborately curled. Their clothing, for the most part, consisted of a simple cloak worn over a long siarc, or mantle, with voluminous breecs for men, and a gown for women. The cloth of these garments was plain, light-coloured rather than dark, and adorned with brooches and other such jewellery. And everyone, men and women, seemed inordinately fond of hats.
I have never seen a race so given to hats as the people of Byzantium. Everyone who could afford even the most rudimentary covering wore something on his head, be it a scrap of heavy woollen cloth folded into a peak, or strands of straw woven as a sunshade and tied into place with rags. Many of these hats seemed to possess official sanction and were worn as badges of office. Others seemed to be following the dictates of some convention, the sense of which I could not penetrate.
We ambled along in stupefied reverie, gawking at everything, until, "Listen!" hissed Gunnar.
The Sea Wolves stopped as one, and held their breath, listening. "What is it?" wondered Orm, after a moment.
"It sounds like an animal," observed Hnefi. "A large one."
"Nay," said Gunnar. "It is people."
"There must be very many of them," agreed Orm.
"A battle!" cried Hnefi. "This way! Hurry!"
Off they ran towards the sound, clutching their weapons in the hope of winning plunder for themselves. I hurried after them so that I would not be left behind. Ahead of us the street widened and I could see movement and colour in the light beyond.
And then I found myself standing in a market square-the largest, busiest, noisiest market I had ever seen, thronging with hordes of people and all of them bawling at the top of their voices. Merchants stood beneath rich-woven canopies crying the virtues of their wares to one and all, wheedling with their customers in any of six languages while prospective buyers sauntered slowly by, eyeing each item and bargaining with undiluted fervour. Strange battle this, but a form of combat nonetheless. The various sounds of commerce melded together to produce the monstrous din we had heard.
Drawn into the maelstrom, the Danemen stumbled forth, still holding tight to their weapons. I had taken but a half-dozen paces when my eyes watered and I began sneezing. Directly before me was a stall boasting spices the like of which I had never known: deep red and dusty yellow, black, orange, pale green, and white. These mysterious spices were heaped into pyramids of casual abundance: brown mounds of powder that smelled like peppered honey-cinnamon, I learned later; black deeply pungent spikes, which were cloves; three or four kinds of pepper, yellow turmeric, earth-coloured hills of cumin and coriander, bright red chilies ground to fine crimson powder, golden peaks of ground almonds, and little round, stone-coloured beans called chickpeas. The mingled scents created a perfume so intensely pungent I could not see, and had to hurry on.