Chapter 31
Three days later, Darcy stood on the deck of the Mary Catherine, enjoying the captivating view.
The magnificent outline of Constantinople rose before them, looking like an Arabian tale.
The city spread across seven hills, as did Rome.
But where Rome spoke of imperial power and classical order, Constantinople whispered of Eastern mystery and exotic beauty.
Minarets pierced the sky like elegant spears.
The great dome of Hagia Sophia dominated the landscape with its ancient majesty.
The waters of the Bosphorus and Golden Horn sparkled in the morning like scattered jewels.
“Incredible,” Elizabeth said beside him. Her wonder never failed to move him.
“Incredible is correct,” Darcy agreed, though his attention was now more focused on her profile than the dazzling cityscape before them.
Mrs. Bell and Tommy eagerly volunteered to be their guides through the legendary markets. They agreed to spend no more than two hours at the location before going to Hagia Sophia to look for the next clue. They would not relax fully until they found what they sought, a lesson learned in Athens.
By midmorning, they were immersed in a sensory experience unlike anything they had yet encountered.
The Grand Bazaar was a city unto itself, with covered halls that stretched in every direction.
Merchants hawked their wares in a dozen different languages.
Turkish carpets hung from the walls like tapestries of jeweled silk, their intricate patterns speaking of centuries of artistic tradition.
Bolts of fabric in colors Darcy had never seen—vibrant reds, deep blues, rich greens, gleaming golds—were stacked from floor to ceiling.
The air was thick with the aroma of coffee beans and exotic spices, while leather goods of unbelievable quality competed for attention with mohair and angora wool as soft as clouds.
“Look at this silk,” Elizabeth exclaimed, running her fingers over a bolt of fabric that shimmered with apparent inner light. “I have never seen anything as beautiful.”
She moved through the maze of merchandise with the same eager curiosity she displayed in every port, asking questions of the sellers, examining techniques and materials with respectful interest. Darcy reveled in the natural grace she exuded as she easily adapted to yet another foreign culture. Her joyous spirit was infectious.
They had arrived, as Mrs. Bell informed them with delight, on a festival day. The sounds of crowds and celebration echoed from the Hippodrome, where chariot races were being held in the ancient Byzantine tradition.
“We could see them races,” Tommy suggested hopefully. “They’re right spectacular― horses and crowds and all manner of excitement.”
“Perhaps later,” Darcy replied diplomatically. “Our priority must be Hagia Sophia.”
“Humph!” The lad scuffed his foot on the ground. “Well, maybe they’ll run the chariots again later. I’m not one for churches, but I guess I’ll tag along.”
The great structure of Hagia Sophia proved to be even more magnificent than the guidebooks Darcy had purchased in London suggested.
As they passed through the massive doors into the soaring interior, the sheer scale and beauty of the space left him awestruck.
An enormous dome floated impossibly overhead, seemingly supported by nothing but divine will, while shafts of colored light streamed through ancient windows, creating an atmosphere of transcendent mystery.
“In the great church where light becomes prayer,” Bennet quoted, “the keeper’s secret rests where emperors once stood.”
They spent the afternoon methodically examining every inch of the vast interior.
From time to time, a muezzin―a man who chanted the call to prayer―or another individual serving in the mosque would offer their help.
Each eagerly praised the glory of the building and Allah.
With respect, the ladies would listen while the men continued to wander through the chambers.
It was Richard who found the area that had served as the imperial enclosure. Byzantine emperors had attended services there surrounded by splendor that rivaled heaven itself.
“There,” Mrs. Bell pointed toward the gallery level where a magnificent mosaic caught the afternoon light. “The Deesis. Christ flanked by the Virgin Mary and John the Baptist. See how the light falls across it?”
Darcy and the others studied the ancient artwork with excitement. The mosaic was positioned perfectly to catch the rays of the sun. Light streamed through the windows and pooled gold against the far wall, and for a moment the radiance itself felt like a prayer.
“Where emperors once stood,” Richard murmured. “This gallery was reserved for imperial use.”
Darcy spotted the irregularity. Letters had been carved into the marble frame surrounding the mosaic, so subtly integrated into the decorative pattern that they were nearly invisible unless one knew what to look for.
“Here,” he said with excitement. “Can you make out the words?”
As they had found in Rome and Athens, the message was carved deeper than the surrounding inscription.
Darcy squinted at the ancient carving, as the Latin slowly became clear.
“Redire ad fontem, ubi pharus olim naves domum duxit. Sub undis temporis, filia-urbs Alexandri tenet quod ignis non potuit vindicare. Ubi Ultimus Ptolomaeus flevit, scientia exspectat dignos quaeritores.”
Elizabeth wrote rapidly in her journal, her translation flowing with the fluency of her father’s excellent classical education: “Return to the source, where the lighthouse once guided ships home. Beneath the waves of time, the daughter-city of Alexander holds what fire could not claim. Where the last Ptolemy wept, knowledge waits for worthy seekers.”
“Alexandria,” Elizabeth whispered. “We have found it! The final clue points directly to Egypt.”
“More than that, my dear.” Her father’s arm rested on her shoulders. “Alexandria covers a vast area. Without this clue, we would be like all others who have searched and been disappointed. This final inscription is the key to locating the lost library inside the city.”
“What do you know of Alexandria, Papa?”
Tommy poked his chest with his thumb. “I kin tell you what it’s like.
The port is old and huge. There be plenty of fancy villas along the coast with important people from faraway places like England and France living in ’em.
There they speak as many languages in the markets as the folks here in Constantinople do.
Ain’t a whole lot of people livin’ in those old buildings, and they’re sprawled all over.
’Tis dusty when the wind blows, and in a stiff breeze, you get a mouthful of sand if you ain’t careful. ”
“Thank you.” Bennet bowed to the lad. “From what I have read, he is correct. Although the city was the center of international trade and a hub for political activity when it was established by Alexander the Great, it has declined tremendously over the centuries.”
“Should that not make it easier to find the library?” Mrs. Bell asked.
“One might think so.” Bennet cupped his chin. “However, when the library was hidden, the configuration of the city was much different from what we will find. We will need to keep that in mind.”
He made direct eye contact with each of the others before saying, “After months of following Professor Drye’s initial clue, after facing dangers and solving puzzles across the length of the Mediterranean―a place I had only ever dreamed of seeing―we are only one step from the end of this treasure hunt.
” Wiping moisture from the corner of his eye, he added, “I wish he were here.” He removed his spectacles and wiped the lenses.
“Professor Drye would have enjoyed every minute of this expedition.”
“Indeed,” Darcy agreed.
“The lighthouse,” Bennet said with scholarly satisfaction. “The great Pharos of Alexandria, one of the Seven Wonders of the Ancient World. And where the last Ptolemy wept must refer to the final days of Cleopatra’s reign, when the Roman conquest ended the Ptolemaic dynasty.”
“Beneath the waves of time,” Richard mused. “Could this refer to parts of ancient Alexandria that have fallen into the sea due to earthquakes and erosion?”
“We shall soon discover.” Darcy read the inscription one final time to ensure the accuracy of his translation. “Our destination is clear. It seems that our goal may be within reach.”
An anticipatory glow settled over the small party as they made their way back through Constantinople’s winding streets toward the harbor.
The prospect of scholarly triumph did not overshadow the personal happiness that buoyed Darcy’s steps.
Elizabeth walked beside him, her hand occasionally brushing his as they navigated the crowded streets.
Each casual contact sent lightning through his entire being.
What he felt for Elizabeth was unlike any other emotion he had experienced in his twenty-eight years. It was stronger and more permanent than the Colosseum, the Parthenon, the Hagia Sophia, and the pyramids of Egypt together.
Upon consultation with Captain Morrison, they found nothing could hurry the offloading and loading of the Mary Catherine.
Thus, the group would make the most of their time in Constantinople.
While Richard took Tommy to the Hippodrome in hopes of seeing chariots racing, Elizabeth and Mrs. Bell went back to the Grand Bazaar, accompanied by Darcy and her father.
Near the spice vendors, a young Turkish girl of about Lydia’s age sat on a small carpet, sketching.
Her drawing materials were spread about her in the same way Mario’s had been in Italy.
She was capturing the bustling energy of the market with graceful movements.
Her companion, an older woman with deep-seated wariness toward foreign visitors, hovered nearby protectively.