Kathleen Kirkwood & Anita Gordon - Heart series (30 page)

Her fingers slipped upward and
touched the place where it suddenly contracted beneath her breast.

“
I must leave for atime,” Lyting announced as he came to stand beside her.

“
So soon?” Ailinn spun around, cutting short his words. Warmth rose to her cheeks as he inclined his head at her small outburst.

“
I must attend to some business on my brother’s behalf. ‘Tis best you stay with Arnór and his family. Arnór has dealings to conduct with this merchant and others along the Mesê. ‘Twill afford you the pleasure of shopping the boulevard.”

Ailinn glanced to where the three Norsewomen picked through a mound of figs. Twin threads of caution and unease twi
ned through her as Jorunn’s gaze lifted to hers.

“
I would much prefer to accompany you,” Ailinn pressed Lyting.

“
As I would also prefer, but I go to the barracks of the Varangian Guard. ‘Tis no place for a woman. My mind will rest more at ease, knowing you are with Arnór.”

Ailinn skimmed
a look over the thick congestion in the street.

“
But what if I should become separated?”

Lyting
’s brows drew lightly together, as though he detected in her voice the anxiousness she felt within. He studied the street in both directions, then directed her attention to the other side.

“
Keep the aqueduct in view. By it, you can always find the point at which we entered the Mesê and the street that leads down to the harbor and the Gate of the Drungarii. I shall rejoin you there, later. For now, I go south to the Sacred Palace and will return the same way. The Forum of Constantine interrupts the boulevard between here and the palace. You will know it by a great column of porphy — a purple marble — surmounted by a gold cross. By that, too, you can find your bearings to return here.”

Arnór
joined them, signaling to Lyting with a nod that he would watch over Ailinn. The Byzantine official waited several paces behind.

Lyting embraced Ailinn with his gaze.
“I must leave now,
elskan mín
. The official informs me that the gates to the palace grounds close midafternoon. He will escort me, though I see a new guard is already in place to watch over you all.”

Ailinn glimpsed the Byzantine solider, spear and shield in hand, observing them from a short distance apart.

Slipping a small pouch from his belt, Lyting placed it in her hands. “Enjoy the day. Should anything take your eye, pleasure yourself and buy it.”

He dropped back a pace and touched her chin lightly, in parting.
“But if you see any more elephants, be mindful of carriages.” He winked a smile and started away, following the official.

Though she did not move, Ailinn
’s heart followed after him. She watched as the distance increased between them, his bright head shining above most other men’s.

As Lyting disappeared into the throng of the
Mesê, Ailinn felt suddenly very much alone.

Turning, she found Jorunn waiting at her side.

»«

Ailinn matched her pace with
Arnór’s and Jorunn’s as they proceeded north along the boulevard. Ingered, Ashild, and the remaining convoy members followed directly behind, while at a small distance the armed guard dogged them.

As they progressed, Ailinn gave her attention to the people crowding the
Mesê. The Byzantines she could differentiate — or so she believed — but there were many from lands unknown to her, especially those of the East.

The diversity was as
endless. There were dark-skinned men in flowing striped robes, with extraordinary headdresses that reminded her of plump cushions, bound with wrappings of cloth. Others wore long, fitted coats that tied across the chest and slippers that curled at the toes. To one side she saw a trio of coarse-looking men with shaven pates, ritual scars on their cheeks, and chains for belts. In contrast, on the boulevard’s other side strolled a man whose hair and beard were meticulously curled and dressed with oil so that it glistened in the sun.

Reaching the stalls of the leatherworkers,
Arnór led them beneath the covered arches, past displays of boots, belts, pouches, gloves, and other apparel. Ailinn saw now that the passage beneath the colonnade opened onto workrooms, where artisans toiled and additional tables were spread with goods.

Arnór
conducted them on, halting at last before the shops of the saddlers. One of the men there recognized Arnór and rose from his work, greeting him by name. Minutes passed as Arnór introduced the other men in their company, who, Ailinn realized now, had also come for the purpose of trade.

Jorunn chafed visibly while the men continued to posture and exchange formalities. Imposing herself at her husband
’s side, she engaged him in a brief conversation, then withdrew and indicated for her daughters and Ailinn to follow.

Ailinn much preferred to stay with
Arnór but had no way to communicate this to him. She would also be sorely out of place while he and the others conducted their business.

Resigned, Ailinn hastened to follow the three women, who were advancing briskly along the portico and now veered to depart from its shelter. Moments later Ailinn emerged from beneath the arches and found Jorunn poised to cross the street. Jorunn looked to Ailinn. Before she could fully catch up, Jorunn moved on.

Ailinn fumed as she trailed after Jorunn and her daughters, hard pressed to keep pace with them as she worked her way across the boulevard, dodging carts and litters. Gaining the opposite side of the street, Ailinn found Jorunn waiting once more, her look sharp, unreadable, and yet expectant somehow. Jorunn pivoted and directed them southward until they came to a stretch of the colonnade that housed the cloth merchants.

As before, stalls lined the portico, these offering a mind-boggling array of silks, linens, woolens, and brocades. Ailinn drank in the sight, utterly amazed, and understood Jorunn
’s eagerness to be here.

Thankfully, Jorunn slowed to examine the tables of goods. Ailinn couldn
’t believe the sheer quantities of silk available — so rare and costly in Ireland. Not only did she find the abundance staggering, but the variety. They ranged in weights and textures from those light, smooth, and airy, to those more closely woven, firmer and heavier. The vibrancy of the colors fairly assaulted her eyes — strong, vivid colors to which she was unaccustomed but instantly loved.

As Ailinn glanced up, she saw Jorunn bid Ingered and Ashild to the entrance of one of the shops, then lead them inside. Reluctantly Ailinn abandoned the lustrous red silk she had been admiring and followed.

The workroom proved a noisy, congested place, where women vied with one another over rolls of sumptuous cloth stacked on long trestles. Jorunn stood toward the end of one of the tables, holding up a length of shimmering brocade for her daughters’ inspection. Ailinn picked her way toward them, stopping a moment to linger over a display of embroidered goods — smaller items including elegant handkerchiefs and headcoverings.

Ailinn
’s spirits brightened as she lifted one of the beautiful veils there. ‘Twas the lightest material she had ever held — a sheer whisper of silk, embellished with silver about the edges. She wondered of its cost — whether she could afford it, whether she should.

Ailinn smoothed her hand over the exquisite veil, yearning to have it, yet not wishing to squander Lyting
’s coin. Taking the pouch he had given her, she checked inside, more to affirm that she should
not
spend the few coins she expected to find there. Ailinn gasped aloud at the little hoard of gold, silver, and gemstones that winked back at her.

“
Blessed Saint Pádraig! May he smile upon your generosity, Lyting!” she muttered half to herself and smiled wide, confident she could make the purchase without seriously depleting his supply. At the very least she could ask the merchant’s price and attempt to strike a reasonable bargain.

Ailinn pursed her lips, scanning the room, wondering whom she might approach. Surprisingly, Jorunn came to her aid, catching her eye and directing her attention to a man several tables away, toward the back of the room. He appeared to be accepting monies and weighing coins.

Ailinn nodded her thanks to Jorunn and began working her way toward the man. She waited as he finished a transaction with the two women before her. Happily, she looked over the veil and its precious embroidery once again, thrilled to have found it. Glancing back to the front of the shop where she had left Jorunn, her heart leapt.

The Norsewomen were gone.

Ailinn scanned the workroom. Dropping the veil on a nearby table, she hastened outside.

Ailinn scanned the crush of people along the portico, rising on tiptoe to look right and left, as far as she could see. Without success, she stepped beyond the arches and stared out over the sea of
confusion in the street. If the women were there, she did not see them. Ailinn retraced her steps, checking once more inside the workroom, then scouted along the portico until she determined beyond question that they were gone.

Ailinn
’s ire mounted. The three had purposely abandoned her.

Suppressing her anger, she looked to the aqueduct and felt comforted to see its upper portion looming in the distance above the
Mesê. What did Jorunn and her daughters hope their mischief would accomplish, when she could so easily find her way back to the saddlers and rejoin Arnór?

Determined to do just that,
Ailinn stepped out onto the boulevard once more, crossed to the other side and continued northward to the section of the leather workers. Locating the shop of the saddler, she proceeded inside, but found that Arnór and those in his company had already moved on.

Ailinn reemerged, feeling the bite of frustration.

Arnór and the others could be anywhere along the Mesê, which, according to Lyting, extended far. She assumed that when Jorunn took her leave of Arnór, she’d arranged to meet him elsewhere later. But where?

Ailinn
assessed where she stood on the boulevard, again using the aqueduct as her landmark. She thought of making her way down to the ships, but she wasn’t ready to return there. In truth, she wished to continue her exploration of the Mesê.

She
drew a fortifying breath. If Constantinople were to be her new home, she refused to be afraid. She had a purse of money to cover her needs and felt confident that she could find her way back to the Gate of the Drungarii whenever she wished.

Ailinn looked southward in the direction of the palace. Lyting said he would return that way along the
Mesê. Certainly, the possibilities of their finding one another between here and there far exceeded those of her venturing out to find Arnór in the other sections of the boulevard.

Her mind decided, Ailinn headed southward, toward the palace, eager to discover more of the marvels of the city and hopeful she would chance on Lyting. Her cheer returned as she temporarily left the
Mesê and entered the Forum of Constantine, a great public square that divided it.

Graceful double-tiered colonnades embraced a large open area, enclosing it with curving arms
— the “square” being not square at all, but oval in shape. A multitude of statuary ornamented the colonnade, flanking it with heroes and mythological beasts. At the center of the forum rose a tremendous column of purple marble, topped with a gleaming cross of gold. At its base a sizable crowd collected.

As Ailinn began to cross the expanse, she became aware of the increasing number of people passing her at
rapid gaits, headed toward the gathering. Clusters of finely robed men broke from their conversations to reassemble at the column where the crowd steadily swelled.

Excitement filled the air, infecting Ailinn as well.
‘Twas as though a bell had been rung, or a horn sounded, announcing an event about to take place. The Mesê appeared to be emptying from both sides into the forum, everyone hastening so as not to miss the distraction.

The stream of people thickened about Ailinn, carrying her forward. She thought of the delightful little elephant and did not resist, anticipating the diversion to come. Had not
Arnór said there were many wonders in Byzantium? She made a silent vow to not miss one of them.

The press of people quickly became so dense that, even should she wish to turn out of it, she could not. It carried her to
ward the great porphy column. Several of the more aggressive souls surrounding her bore her on in their company, taking her with them through the jam of people to the forefront of the crowd.

With so much jostling and pushing, Ailinn took little notice of the increasing vocalness of the crowd.
‘Twas only when she neared the front did she realize that the utterances about her were not ones of buoyant good cheer but were wrathful and jeering.

Before she could take heed, someone muscled from behind, pushing at her back as they tried to gain
a better vantage. Ailinn found herself propelled roughly forward and thrust into the open, beyond the front of the crowd.