Trumpeters led the procession and their instruments blared at regular intervals, while among them heralds called out praise for the emperor at almost every step of the way. Standard bearers both mounted and on foot carried banners of every color and design it was possible to imagine, but predominant was the double-headed eagle, the crest of the empire. Their ornate felt and silk banners of red, white, blue and green waved in the light breeze as the solemn procession moved slowly by.
As the emperor approached the great ring of the Constantine Forum, young boys and girls walking ahead began to throw late blooming flowers mixed with small clusters of leaves in his path, chanting in high melodious song. The emperor was flanked by men who looked like priests of some kind, whom Talon assumed to be confessors and priests of high office. His horse, clad with a jewel-encrusted harness, was of the whitest pelt and its groomed mane and tail flowed like silk as it moved. Its head was bowed in a collected form that forced it to lift its feet high as it was led slowly forward by two young boys dressed in white tunics holding onto its bridle.
The emperor seated deep in the saddle, held in the crook of his right arm the Imperial Crosier; over his left he carried a long swathe of silk which trailed below his buskin-clad foot, which rested in a silver stirrup.
His tight fitting tunic, stiffened with stays, was of embroidered silk of many colors and patterns. His head was held high above a high stiff collar sewn with gold threads and with twin eagles of the empire on either side of the collar. Emperor Manuel’s swarthy visage was calm and his black eyes stared straight ahead, looking neither to right nor left as though he was spiritually removed from the clangor of the parade. His hair and beard were curled and oiled under the wide gold crown from which strings of pearls hung glistening like rain over his broad shoulders which were clad with a golden mantle. The cheering of the crowd, the blaring of the trumpets and the shouts of the heralds were deafening as the procession passed by. Talon glanced about at the cheerful people milling around him. Most appeared to genuinely like the emperor; clearly they liked the parade, which provided a break from their normally humdrum lives.
Immediately behind the emperor and his escorts came the Empress Maria and her glittering escort of notables and ladies in waiting, all mounted upon the finest ponies and horses Talon had ever seen gathered in one place. Her tunic was as richly ornamented as that of the emperor. She wore a cloak of the finest silk with gold and silver thread woven in a wide band around its hem and collar. Her mount, as pure white as her husband’s horse, was led by young eunuchs. Talon noted with some surprise that she was a tall woman with hair the color of honey coiffed in long tresses that were held by a jewel-encrusted diadem over which was a diaphanous veil that did little to hide her beauty. The hand that held the reins was as white as a lily, every finger almost hidden with rich and costly rings. The crowd cheered her too and some threw flowers onto her path to join the already trampled clusters of leaves and flowers lying on the road. A light scent of rosewater and lavender lingered with her passing.
Behind her the train of men and women and youths, of officials, nobles, senators and churchmen stretched far off down the tree-lined avenue. Talon could see the riders’ plumes dancing to the rhythm of their horses movements while the tramp of the iron shod sandals of the soldiers vied with the shouts of the heralds and the cheers of the crowd.
Alexios explained who the various kinds of soldiers were as they rode by. The Norsemen were indeed Scandinavian and Saxons from the English isles; they were known as Varangians, he told Talon.
“Their company was formed by the grandfather of the emperor Manuel, Alexios I, after whom I was named. They are the personal guard of the emperor.”
Alexios pointed to the emperor’s immediate escort, each of whom carried a long bladed spear, gilded with gold. Alexios explained that these men were the traditional executioners; their office dated back to the earliest Roman times when the Caesars and emperors of Rome had employed them.
A troop of heavily armed cavalry followed the detachment of Varangians. Their horses and armor gleamed from all the polishing that had been lavished upon them. These horses were of a slightly heavier breed than Talon had encountered in Persia but still lighter than the Destriers he had become familiar with in Languedoc.
“They look like they could be effective,” Talon murmured to Sir Guy, who was watching with equal interest as the impassive cohorts rode by, leaving behind a smell of waxed leather and horse sweat.
“I belong to that Tagamet,” Alexios said with pride in his voice. “They are called the Athanatoi, the deathless ones,” Alexios smiled. “I would be riding with them but I am charged with being your host today. Most of the men in this Tagamet belong to the aristocracy, either here in Constantinople or from great families in Thessaly and Thrace and other provinces. Our family came from Anatolia but today most of our possessions lie to the north. We are also known as the Oikioi, which means ‘Those of the Household.’”
The men of the heavy cavalry were dressed in what appeared to be a type of old fashioned armor, but Alexios assured Talon that the fishlike plates were very solid and could withstand a spear thrust without giving in. Talon observed their expensive gleaming armor, their conical plumed helmets and their kite-like shields. Some of the helmets the men wore were beautifully made of steel with gold and silver inlaid work depicting saints and elaborate images of the Christ. These men carried laminated bows similar to the one he possessed but slightly smaller. They also carried large maces at their belts and long spears with pennants.
He wondered how it would be to face this kind of unit in the field. As he had never been in a full-scale battle before he could only imagine what the effect of such a force would be like. He recalled the Templars and their disciplined charge. These cavalry units looked just as effective.
Behind the heavily armed cavalry came units of heavy infantry, whom Alexios called the Peltasts. They tramped by on hobnailed sandals, clothed in heavily padded over-tunics with heavy steel and bronze plates and laminated arm armor. Their spears were about three yards long.
Talon observed with interest as detachment after detachment of armed men rode or tramped by. He noted the light cavalry and related to them, as these men appeared to be fast moving units who rode small but well-bred looking ponies that could be useful against their opposite numbers in any Arab army.
He shook his head. The parade was something quite new to him and he could find no comparison. Despite its splendor, it had been as though hundreds, even thousands of gilded and finely dressed and armored wax dolls had been carried by on horses.
Talon, Sir Guy and Alexios, who had been standing among the dense crowd at the Forum, joined the procession as it moved the last few hundred yards to arrive at the entrance to the Great Palace at the south-east tip of the peninsula. As they approached the huge square in front of the Great Palace, which was packed with soldiers and cavalry of various rank, Talon noted a group of strangely dressed men who were accompanied by an officer of the Imperial guard.
“Who are those people, Alexios?” Talon asked, pointing.
“I am sure that is a Turkish delegation, come from the Sultan of Rum to negotiate with the emperor.” Alexios sounded dismissive.
The men they were discussing wore bright single color tunics over trews and knee-high leather boots, jackets of unrefined stitching, and a wide array of felt hats of differing colors. Their clothes denoted tribal origins and were very plain in comparison to those worn by other notables who were present. The men, although dressed differently from the Greeks all around them, were as dark-skinned; but they were easily distinguishable by their long braided hair and huge mustaches. Their fierce dark eyes were watchful as they moved with the rest of the crowd now heading for the maidan in front of the Grand Palace. Talon regarded them without too much curiosity, but he recalled what Sir Guy had said about the Sultanate of Rum pushing into the former empire.
The Turks, Sir Guy had told him, were the main reason that the first an
d second crusades had happened at all, and the next crusade would without doubt have to cross dominions now held by Seljuk Turks which were no longer those of the former Byzantine Empire.
He also noticed a group of finely dressed men of a lighter complexion who were accompanied by a group of Greek officials dressed in what he now knew to be togas. Alexios, who knew much about the complex array of official titles, told Talon that the escorting Greek notables were Protospatharioi, the same senatorial rank as his father. The delegation being escorted was an important one from Persia. They too were known enemies of the Sultan of Rum.
By the time they were moving through the maidan themselves Talon’s head was swimming with the information Alexios supplied on the multitude of different nations who were there to witness the parade and, as in their case, seek an audience with the emperor himself. He had seen an Arab delegation and wondered if it had come from the Sultan Salah Ed Din, or Damascus, or perhaps even further afield. There were many groups of emissaries who had clearly come from Europe by their constrained woolen dress that was positively provincial compared to that of the Greeks.
Then there were others who came from Russia and the far north. All had come to see the emperor and seek favors or alliances for trade or military purposes. Alexios was scornful of many that he pointed out and dismissive of some, saying that they were just traders and wasting their time, as the emperor was far too busy to see them all. Most delegations came many times to this square and waited for hours before being rewarded with an audience.
“If we are approached by the parakoimomemos we will know that this day you will be received by the emperor.” Alexios sounded nervous.
“I shall never get used to all these complicated names. Which one is he?” Talon muttered.
“He is the leader of the Senate and as such will guide you through the interview with the emperor. Since a treaty is in question he will conduct all subsequent discussions and report to the emperor on our progress,” Alexios said with a trace of impatience.
“I would like you to become familiar with much of this nation, Talon,” Sir Guy admonished Talon out of the corner of his mouth. He got no further, as Alexios was hurrying them along to make sure they had the best view of what was to come.
Talon had no time to dwell upon Sir Guy’s admonishment, instead he turned his attention to the huge building they were about to enter. They had to push and squeeze past many people who wanted to watch the spectacle within and who gave way only reluctantly. The large wide square in front of the church of Saint Sophia only just accommodated the procession and the visitors.
He gazed up at the huge construction in front of them. The wide archways supported by slim carved marble pillars were topped with many small domes that guided the eye towards the center tiers, where there were more towers and even more domes on either side of a much larger one; but above that again was the enormous, great dome of the Hagia. The whole building, while massive, gave the impression from the ground where he stood of being rather squat; but he noticed that the further away one stood the taller the whole seemed to be. He had never seen a place of God that was so huge. None of the mosques that he had encountered in Cairo or Alexandria came even close. The builders in those places were only just experimenting with brick and learning its potential, while here the architects seemed to have mastered the basics of brick building and leapt further ahead with stone and marble to create something extraordinary.
As the emperor arrived at the steps that led to the main entrance of the Hagia Sophia on the north side of the square, the Patriarch and his entourage emerged from the entrance of the great church to greet him. This was a no less a magnificently dressed group of people. The white bearded priests, most of them old, some seemingly ancient, wore high black headdresses and jewel encrusted vestments that sparkled in the sunlight. They and their eunuch servants carried large, beautifully wrought crosses of ivory and gold, while the icons set in gold inlaid boxes they held on high were of priceless gold-inlaid carved wood with painted, gold leafed figures of the virgin and child that could be seen within the open doors of those small portable shrines.
The emperor dismounted and, assisted by plumed and bejeweled eunuchs, slowly approached the Patriarch, Michael III of Anchialus. All knelt as the Patriarch and the emperor met and exchanged the kiss of the faith on both cheeks.
Sir Guy seized Jonathan by the scruff of his neck and forced him to his knees. Martin rapidly followed suit. Talon had anticipated the moment and with Max and Claude crashed to his knees along with ten thousand citizens of Constantinople in a mute sound of shuffles followed by a suspended silence of respect.
The two most powerful men in the empire of Byzantium walked sedately side by side into the vast interior of the Hagia Sophia followed by the most noble and important officers of the realm. Those who were envoys hopeful of an audience this day were allowed in behind them, and this included the Knights Templar and their two monks.
“We will stay on the edge of the crowd and wait for a signal,” Alexios whispered to Sir Guy as they followed the perfumed royalty and their nobility up the wide stairs. “The Liturgy will be said by the Patriarch and then the main service will commence,” he added.
There was a long silence inside the vast chamber, broken only by the occasional cough or snuffle, but even that died down as the crowd within waited in hushed anticipation for the service to begin. Talon stared about. This place of worship was brightly lit by hundreds, perhaps thousands, of candles, some as thick as a man’s upper arm. The walls were covered from top to bottom with fine, intricately worked gold and silver inlaid frescoes of saints and emperors that gleamed with an ethereal glow in the candlelight. Huge brass chandeliers hung overhead alongside bronze pots that smoked with incense, supported by chains that disappeared into the gloom of the dome. Intricately carved stonework was suspended from pillars and arches overhead while in places along the curved wall were long, thin windows, through which streamed beams of sunlight. Talon and his companions could only stare in wonder and awe at the magnificence that surrounded them.
In the echoing vault of the great church the voice of the Patriarch was lifted in prayer that broke the silence.
“In peace let us pray to the Lord.”
“Lord have mercy,” the crowd chanted.
“For the peace of God and the salvation of our souls, let us pray to the Lord.”
“Lord have mercy.”
“For the peace of the world, for the stability of the holy churches of God, and the fear of God, let us pray to the Lord.”
“Lord have mercy.”
Talon became aware that the strong smell of incense from the pots hanging overhead was beginning to permeate the air within.
The passion and the echoes of the divine liturgy of the Greek Church climbed to the great heights of the vast dome of Sophia and echoed off the pillars and curved walls. It was a haunting refrain that had been repeated down the long ages since the time of Constantine, and all who heard it were imbued with a sense of holiness.
The liturgy and the canon with its refrains was replaced by the high tenors of song. Talon heard the strange music of what he now knew to be the organs that, although hidden, resonated through his very soul. There was now a solo voice chanting.
“Who is great like our God? You are the God who performs miracles.”
This was followed by the chant from the mass of people clustered in the naves and under the great arches of the church. “Lord have mercy.”
Then the high voices of the boys in the choir soared as one crystal clear note above the crowd to penetrate deep into the shadows and crevices of the massive ancient church, which rebounded with echoes so that the notes seemed to come from everywhere at once. All present were now absolutely still, even those who had been here a hundred times, as the castrati went through their song of praise to God.
Talon felt the hair on his forearms tingle as he listened. He craned his neck to stare into the high shadows of the dome, past the light from
hundreds of lamps, candles and smoking incense pots, and wondered to himself at the power of song and praise. He became aware that these ceremonies he was experiencing had been repeated for centuries in this church that was the shrine of heaven on earth, while the emperor, the consecrated leader and lord of his people here in Constantinople, was to these people the ambassador of God on earth.
Despite himself he was awed by the majesty of the ceremony and the rite as it unfolded before him.
The Patriarch went through the First Antiphon and the second then the third, followed by the Psalms and the Apolytikon. Talon’s mind became almost numb from the repetition.
Then the choir began to sing the Akathesos Kotakion and the boys’ crystal clear voices again soared into the heavens above. Talon stood stock still and absorbed the music both from the choir and the organs through his very being. It was clear that the entire assembly was rooted to the intricately tiled mosaic of the floor as they listened to the heavenly music, which eventually died away, leaving a strange empty silence behind. Talon’s breast ached and he could almost imagine men weeping at the loss of that sound. Then after a long silence when the very last of the echoes had died away, the Patriarch’s low voice could be heard again.
“Lord, You have given us grace to offer these common prayers with one heart. You have promised to grant the requests of those gathered in Your name. Fulfill now the petitions of Your servants for our benefit, giving us the knowledge of Your truth in this world, and granting us eternal life in the world to come.”
They stood for seeming hours as the service continued towards its conclusion and the Eucharistic rites drew to a close, leaving Talon exhausted. He glanced at his companions and found Sir Guy staring up into the deep recesses of the dome while Max and Claude heads were bowed over their clasped hands.
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