Free The Sultan's Eyes by Kelly Gardiner Page B

said.
    ‘And Persian, and many other languages, including Greek and Latin,’ said Al-Qasim. ‘The wisdom of the ages.’
    ‘But not of our age?’ said Willem.
    ‘Perhaps not,’ Al-Qasim admitted. ‘But do you understand why the sultans prefer to safeguard the old skills?’
    ‘I understand,’ said Willem. ‘But I don’t agree. Our machines can make more books, dozens, in a fraction of the time it takes to paint one, and much more cheaply.’
    ‘That’s exactly what scares people,’ said Al-Qasim.
    ‘Which people?’ I asked. ‘It seems to me that if they ban printing, books are only for the wealthy, the learned, as they once were in Europe.’
    ‘That’s true,’ said Al-Qasim. ‘But as it is now, no religious books at all can be printed, and no works in Arabic. I don’t imagine there is a functioning press anywhere in the city. Sooner or later that will change. In the meantime, I hope it doesn’t diminish your desire to see Constantinople.’
    ‘On the contrary,’ said Valentina. ‘I love a challenge.’



7
I N WHICH OLD ALLIES AND NEW ARE REVEALED
    Shouts from above told us we were nearing the city. I scrambled up onto the deck, alone at first. The crew had hauled down the sail and the oarsmen were hard at work, stroking evenly but slowly as the ship nosed its way into the Bosphorus, the narrow stretch of water that separates Europe from Asia. The strait teemed with boats and ships of all sizes and shapes: some drifting and towing fishing nets, most ploughing their way to or from the city, from one side of the Bosphorus to the other. Red, blue, striped, even black, sails crowded around us. In the centre of the strait, a beacon tower clung to a rocky outcrop. On the shore, huge bronze cannons faced out to sea.
    Above it all rose the walls of Constantinople, city of the Byzantines, of the emperors. Here, more than a thousand years ago, Constantine the Great converted to Christianity and madethe city that bore his name the centre of the Roman Empire. Here, decades later, his successor, Justinian, rewrote all the laws of justice and ruled half the earth with his empress, Theodora. Together, they rebuilt the city and constructed a cathedral to wisdom and reason, Sancta Sophia, which amazed the world. Soon, I hoped to see it for myself.
    And indeed, as we sailed closer, there it was, high on a hill: a gigantic pile of dome upon dome and soft ochre walls. Willem, beside me, let out a low whistle.
    ‘Look,’ he said. ‘So many towers.’
    The sky above Constantinople was speared through by dozens of pointed towers in red, blue and grey brick. They were nothing like the spires of London or the campaniles of Venice.
    ‘Minarets.’ Al-Qasim stood behind us with Valentina, both gazing at the city. ‘You will hear, soon enough, the calls to prayer that issue from them.’
    ‘You mean somebody climbs all the way up those things to shout out to everyone?’ said Willem.
    Al-Qasim smiled. ‘I’m sure they don’t mind. It’s a holy ritual, a beautiful chant. Once you’ve been here a while, you’ll be able to tell the difference between the voices; you’ll know which muezzin you hear, from which minaret.’
    ‘I don’t really plan to stay here that long,’ said Willem. ‘But I do like the idea of singing from on high.’
    ‘It’s a wonderful moment,’ said Al-Qasim, ‘just before dawn, as if they are summoning the whole world to wake.’
    ‘Nobody sings to me before dawn,’ said Valentina. ‘Not unless they are very good-looking and bring me coffee.’
    ‘I’m sure we can find someone to do that,’ said Al-Qasim. ‘Anything can be arranged in Constantinople.’
    ‘That’s what I like to hear,’ she said.
    In spite of the homesickness that was so evident on her face every day, Valentina smiled as we sailed below the city walls and into the legendary inlet they called the Golden Horn.
    Al-Qasim pointed out the city landmarks: the high headland where the Sultan lived with his court and