The Connoisseur

Chapter 12 - Ctesiphon

When they passed through the doors, the first thing that struck Sophia was the sunlight – high and bright, blinding at first, but gradually receding to show fields of green reeds and the golden shores of a river.  The second was the smell – salt, spice and citrus, so much in harmony with what she had imagined beforehand that it hardly seemed real, more a perfume than the scent of a real place.  Yet when she turned she saw the origin of each note, from the fruit stalls of the market just along the bank to the cinnamon and nutmeg spilling from sacks in the back of a nearby cart.

“Do you ever get used to this?” she said to Alexander, her eyes wide as she took in the dusty red and sand-striped buildings surrounding the bazaar.

“The day I do,” he replied, “I’ll stop.”

They were both dressed in what Alexander had informed her was the Byzantine fashion.  It had taken some time for Sophia to stop tripping on her ankle-length white gown, decoratively embroidered at its fringes, but the blue and pink cloak that she wore above it, rich in brocade, had charmed her the moment she had seen it.  Her hair was high and curled, and she wore gold rings and bracelets.  Alexander wore a blue dalmatic and a long robe piled around his body like a Roman toga, all patterned and trimmed in lush fabrics.

The people around them, however, wore only simple tunics and sandals.  There were fewer of them than Sophia expected.  Many of the stalls were unmanned, and those few traders who were still selling had very few customers.

“Is this the day of the coronation?” she said to Alexander as they walked through the dusty streets.

“It is.”

“Then I can guess where everyone is.”  She began to hear a distant rumbling and soon recognised it as the cheering of a great crowd, interspersed with trumpets and drums.  “I’d say this way!”

She seized his hand and ran, despite her long gown.  Her necklace bounced on her collarbone and her bracelets rattled against one another, but the noise and music drew her inevitably on, and she giggled aloud.

“I’m meant to sweep you off your feet, you know,” gasped Alexander behind her.

“Oh for god’s sake, you already have.  Now come on!”

They turned a corner, but ahead the side street was blocked by a crowd, all looking out onto the broad avenue beyond.  Over their heads Sophia could just see a parade of cavalry, their banners rising high, but little more.

“We’ll never get through this,” she shouted over the cheering.  “There must be another way around.”

“Look.”  Alexander pointed upward – the buildings on either side were topped with open balconies, strewn with floral decorations and hangings, which overlooked the parade.  “We’ll try there.”

They leapt through a side door, straight into the smoke and steam of a large kitchen.  Women in long tunics looked up from pots and cauldrons, stared at their finery in astonishment.

“Greetings from Constantinople,” said Alexander, rushing by.  “We may have gotten a little lost on the way.”

The women watched him go and turned to Sophia.  She shrugged her shoulders.  “He didn’t want to ask for directions.”

She dashed after him.  The building was very grand, gorgeously decorated with mosaics on the walls and carpets underfoot, and flooded with golden light.  Servants dashed up and down the stairs with silver dishes piled with spiced food which smelled so good that Sophia found her nose pulled this way and that, eager to sample each and every one.

“My apologies!” cried a voice.  To Sophia’s surprise, a servant, more finely dressed than the others, met them on the stairs and knelt before them.  “We were not aware of your Excellency’s arrival!”