Spears of destiny

by Arthur D. Howden Smith

"That is the Gate of the Forerunner, for so the Greeks call St. John the Baptist. It is an arch so wide and high that a galley such as ours could pass through it with sail spread and oars pulling. Before it is the Column of Constantine, erected to the memory of the great Emperor who founded the city anew. And beyond the Column is the Forum of Arcadius, whereon is the Church of the Forerunner. Look! You may see the dome sparkle in the sun. On the left hand, that enormous building is the Baths of Arcadius. You may not see it from here for the houses but close by the Forum of Arcadius there is a wondrous statue of the Lady Helen of Troy, a demoiselle of the old Greeks about whom they sing a romaunt that is right pleasant to hear. It is a statue older even than the city, they say."

The fleet drew in closer to the walls, keeping just out of range of the military engines that stood ready on every tower and curtain. Sometimes the Greeks who watched the hundreds of ships shook their swords and shouted hoarse challenges, to which the host gave answer in expressions of defiance. For the most part the passage was made in silence. Hugh looked and looked to his heart's content, and so did every man in the fleet who had energy to drag himself to the rail. Even those unfortunates who were sick with scurvy begged their comrades to help them to a view of the marvellous spectacle.

As they passed on, the buildings within the walls became less dense. Open spaces were more numerous. Groves of trees, tall, stately cypresses and cedars, grew about palaces as fair as the visions of a dream. Marble, onyx, jacinth, porphyry, sandstone, granite, picked out with copper, bronze, silver and gold, these buildings gleamed as though they were encrusted with jewels. Fountains played in their gardens, for aqueducts built by many Emperors since the days of Old Rome insured Constantinople a bountiful supply of water, and an elaborate system of stone-walled sewers laid underground furnished ample drainage and guarded the city from the terrible epidemics which at intervals decimated the insanitary cities of the West.

Hugh pointed to building after building, fascinated as a child, and Matteo described them to him. That was the Church of the Theotokos Hodegetria, founded by the Empress Pulcheria, where was treasured the ikon of the Virgin painted by the hand of St. Luke, the palladium of the city, which was brought out in times of crisis to lead the armies and revivify the failing spirits of the citizens. Involuntarily, Hugh bowed his head and crossed himself.

"God send Our Lady has turned against these people," he said devoutly. "Else we may fight in vain."

"An relics will win for them, the Greeks must be invincible," replied Matteo. "It has been said that the reason why their city hath always withstood siege is that the number and sacredness of the relics furnish a Divine aid which transcends the might of men."

The jongleur continued, and pointed out the Church of St. George, with its monastery, a rambling collection of buildings set in the midst of broad grounds; the Atrium of Justinian, a beautiful marble portico on the hill overlooking the Bosphorus and the Marmora, enshrining a porphyry statue of the Emperor's wife, Theodora, which he had erected as a memorial to her and a lounge whence the citizens might view the sunsets and in which they might seek relief from the heat of the sun. Church and palace and bath, one succeeded another.

"But that pile ahead! See, on the summit of the next hill!" cried Hugh. "It is greater than them all!"

"It is, indeed," responded Matteo. "That is the Palace of the Bucoleon, and it is the richest palace in all the world. In plain truth, it is not one palace, but a group of palaces, with pleasure gardens all about them. Moreover, it is in a way a fortress by itself, for it is surrounded by a wall, and if the Emperor wishes, he can shut himself off in it and at need defy the whole city. And besides its several palaces, it hath quarters for soldiers, stables built of marble, chapels and baths. It is a city in itself."

Hugh marvelled, but wonders crowded upon him afresh. In the distance he saw St. Sophia, the Great Church or Cathedral of the city, its high-flung dome poised in air as light as a bubble. Later he was to marvel afresh at this glorious building, the most perfect religious edifice which Christians ever built, already then more than six hundred years old and destined to last like the city's bulwarks through an additional seven hundred years of oppression, neglect and abomination.