“I see you have brought but two servants with you. I will arrange to have you assigned our own people as well. Ahh, here we are.” He flung open a pair of double doors. “Your apartment, my lord and my lady. The young mistress has a suite of rooms just down the hall. If you will step in, I shall show her the way.”
“Take Nara with you, mother,” said Mairin knowing her mother would be more comfortable having one of their own servants with her.
“Dagda must stay with me,” said the thegn in their own tongue. “It would cause undue gossip for him to remain with you, my daughter.”
“Your father is correct,” seconded the Irishman.
“I understand,” said Mairin. “It is all right, father. I speak fluent Greek, and unlike mother will have little difficulty getting along. Dagda can accompany me when I am outside the palace.”
Zeno’s view of the English was based upon the rough-and-tumble young Anglo-Saxon warriors who served in the emperor’s guard. He was rather delighted to discover that well-bred English citizens were actually quite civilized. He was even more pleased to learn that Mairin could speak Greek for it was now the official language of Byzantium, replacing Latin eight years earlier when the Byzantine church had broken with that of Rome.
Now that Mairin was speaking to him in his country’s language Zeno became almost voluble. Opening one side of a carved double door he ushered her into an airy, high-ceilinged room. “This, young mistress, is to be your suite.” He walked across the room, opening yet another carved door. “Your bedchamber,” he said.
One wall of the main chamber was practically solid windows. Walking over to them Mairin exclaimed, “What magnificent gardens, and the view of the sea is incredible, Zeno! Oh, I shall be happy in this wonderful city!”
The majordomo beamed with pride. “You belong in Constantinople, young mistress. It is a city of beautiful women, and you are surely the most lovely female I have ever seen. Forgive my boldness, but never have I seen hair or skin quite like yours.”
“Such coloring is common in my land,” said Mairin with more poise than she was feeling. No one, even a servant, had ever called her beautiful before. More than ever she longed to find a mirror, and see what changes her travels had wrought.
“You will want to refresh yourself after your long journey,” said Zeno. “I will see that iced wine and cakes are brought to you, young mistress, and I shall personally choose the maidens who will serve you. A rare jewel should have an equally fine setting.” He bowed himself from the room.
Delighted that he was gone at last, Mairin explored her new surroundings. The main room of her suite had a wonderful floor of pale gold marble. The walls were wide alternating strips of the same gold, and cream-colored marble. The ceiling was gilded. The furniture, tables, stools, and reclining couches were plated with gold, and inlaid with ivory. The lamps and other lighting fixtures were fashioned of silver, and some were inlaid with semiprecious stones. On the floor next to her bedchamber door stood a magnificent vase carved from lilac-colored jade and filled with peacock feathers.
Curious, Mairin walked into the bedchamber and gasped with delight. Upon the marble walls were wonderful paintings in bright colors showing musicians and dancers in procession about the walls of the room. Each panel of the painting was framed in gilded wood decorated with coral, lapis lazuli, and pearls, and separated from the next panel by strips of gold marble. The floors were cream-colored marble broken with undulating lines of jade green.
There was a bed upon one wall that was fashioned of wood that had first been carved and then overlaid with gold leaf. It was hung with draperies of pale green silk to match the covering upon the mattress. By the bed was a small table inlaid in ivory, and upon it stood a silver lamp that burned scented oil. As in the main room of the suite there was a wall of windows that overlooked the imperial gardens with the sea beyond.
She opened another door and saw a small hallway at the end of which was another door. Curious, she walked slowly down the short passage to discover a tiled room with a pool behind the door. It was not a large pool, and she wondered about its use. With a shrug Mairin returned to the bedchamber to discover something that she had somehow managed to miss before.
A mirror,
and what a mirror! It was not a mere polished round of metal, but real glass, and large enough that she might see her entire self in it!
Fascinated, she studied her image for a long minute. Then with a sigh she turned away. There was no change at all that she could see in herself. She turned to find her mother entering the room.
“What is it, child? You look so disappointed,” Eada said.
“I thought surely there would be some change in me, mother,” Mairin replied.
“You change each day, my dearest. You are growing up.”
“No. I look just the same as I did when we left England. Yet Zeno, the majordomo, said I was beautiful. Am I beautiful, mother?”
Eada hesitated a moment, but then deciding honesty was the best course she answered, “Yes, my daughter, you are very beautiful.”
“But I look the way I always have!” despaired Mairin.
“You have always been beautiful, Mairin,” laughed Eada. “I remember thinking that the first time I saw you. You are simply used to yourself, and you are not a prideful child. Some of the differences you feel, however, come from the inside and are not necessarily visible; like the confusion you felt today when that young soldier aided you. He looked at you as a young man looks at a lovely girl. Since no one has ever viewed you in that light before, he made you feel very aware of yourself, and of him also.” She smiled. “It is a normal state, my daughter, and I fear it will get worse before it gets better.”
Mairin made a face at herself in the wonderful glass mirror. “Oh, mother,” she said, “I don’t know if I want to grow up! It feels so strange to be me, and yet not to be me!”
Eada laughed again. “I felt the same way when I was your age,” she admitted, “but alas, my dearest, there is no stopping time. It moves onward no matter how we feel about it.” She put an arm about the girl, and gave her a loving squeeze. “Zeno has arranged to bring several skilled seamstresses here into the palace this afternoon, and what do you think I found awaiting us in our apartment? Bolts and bolts of the most beautiful fabrics! They are a gift from the wife of Timon Theocrates. Imagine! What generosity! She has never laid eyes upon us, and yet she has shown us great kindness. I do not know how we can repay her, but fashionable gowns we shall have when we meet the emperor! Come, and pick what you would have.”
The next few days were busy ones for Mairin and her mother. Although Anglo-Saxon England was noted for the fabrics its women wove, they could not compare their own cloth with what had been sent them. There were brocades in clear jewel colors of ruby, emerald, sapphire, amethyst, and topaz. There were delicate silks that had been woven with gold and silver threads so that in one light the fabric appeared a solid color. In another light it was a shimmering waterfall of metallic glory. There were silks as sheer as an early-morning mist in ethereal hues of blossom pink, sea green, pale peach, dawn gold, and aquamarine.
If Mairin appreciated the pure beauty of the fabrics they had been gifted with, her mother recognized the skill and imagination that had gone into their making. Neither had ever owned such stunning garments as were created for them by the imperial seamstresses. Even the simple, practical Eada was not loath to admit her pleasure in such fine feathers. Her initial fears of meeting the fabled Emperor of Byzantium faded as her new clothing gave her equally new confidence. A confidence seen by and highly approved by the entire English delegation.
“I did not approve of a woman and child coming upon this mission,” admitted Wulfhere of London, “but seeing you so splendidly gowned, Eada of Aelfleah, I think it is a good thing that you are with us. You lend an elegance to us, and in this magnificent city I cannot think that a bad thing.”
“It is good for the Byzantines to see one of our women, and a child of our people,” seconded Aethelbert of Gloucester. “It makes us seem more human to them. Besides,” and his blue eyes twinkled merrily, “little Mairin’s beauty has them quite in awe, and that cannot be a bad thing either.”
His companions nodded for Aethelbert of Gloucester spoke a truth. The city of Constantinople was famed for the beauty of its women. There were blonds with skin like white roses, and brunettes who were tawny and golden. There were blue eyes, dark eyes, eyes of green or hazel. Nowhere in the city, however, was there anyone with hair the fiery red-gold of Mairin’s tresses, a color which sharply contrasted with the creaminess of her skin.
Such hair and skin were usually complemented with light eyes, but Mairin’s eyes were purple, sometimes amethyst in hue, and at other times a deep violet, depending upon her mood. Added to the perfection of her features her beauty seemed unreal for Mairin was one of those rare creatures who appeared lovelier with each viewing. She was a child teetering upon the brink of womanhood, yet in this great city her unusual beauty was being extolled to such an extent that word of it had even penetrated the emperor’s court.
Constantine X was a member of the Ducas family, and had been elected to his imperial throne in 1059. His predecessor, Isaac I of the Comnenus family, had been an excellent emperor who had sadly reigned only two years. His death was a misfortune for Byzantium because the two emperors before him, Michael VI and Constantine IX, had been weak men. Neither had distinguished himself to any great extent although in the last year of Constantine IX’s reign the Byzantine church had broken with that of Rome.
Constantine X was a charming if ineffectual man but if his government was lackluster and undistinguished, the arts and those associated with them flourished greatly under his reign. He loved beauty and upon hearing of Mairin’s, he scheduled his audience with King Edward’s trade delegation far in advance of when he had actually planned to receive them. He was enormously curious to view the English child, and was quite frank in making that admission to his favorite cousin, Basil.
“I wonder if she can be your equal, my princely cousin,” he teased. Basil Ducas was called the most beautiful man in Byzantium.
“Then I should have to marry her so we might create a race of beautiful and perfect children, sire,” came the prince’s quick reply. Basil Ducas might be handsome, but he was also highly intelligent.
The emperor smiled. “What will Bellisarius say should you take a wife? Surely he will resent a rival for your affections. He is very possessive of you, Basil.”
The prince frowned, but even in annoyance his features remained attractive. “In my thirty years, Constans, I have had both beautiful men and beautiful women as lovers. Bellisarius knows that someday I will marry. I must have heirs, cousin. However, you are correct in one of your observations. Bellisarius is possessive of me. Too much so, I think. Still I would not distress him for he is the greatest actor of our age, and he amuses me more than most. When we finally part he will cost me far less than my last paramour. Do you remember Helena Monomachus, and how she attempted to pass off her blackamoor’s bastard as mine? She almost cost me a fortune until she spawned her baby with its dark skin, wide flat nose, and kinky hair. In the entire history of our family, Constans, there has
never
been a nose like
that!”
The emperor smiled at his cousin’s words, and then he said, “Do you think that the little English girl can be as fair as they say, Basil? I have never heard so much chatter about a child not yet a woman. They say she cannot go out in the city any longer for crowds follow her. They attempt to touch her hair for they cannot believe it real. Some have even said it is not hair, but a flame that surrounds her head.” The emperor’s pale blue eyes were quite curious.
The prince laughed heartily. “Poor child,” he said sympathetically. “Next the unwashed masses will attribute miracles and disasters to her tresses. Well, we shall see for ourselves this afternoon, won’t we?”
Mairin was in a frenzy of excitement. She had never seen an emperor before. She had never even seen her own king, but she was absolutely certain that the saintly Edward of England would pale in comparison to the splendor of Byzantium’s ruler. Mairin stared at her full-length image in the pier glass.
She was wearing a tunic dress made of lilac-colored brocade worked with both gold and silver threads. The tunic dress was wide-sleeved over a close-sleeved undertunic of gold cloth. Both garments had high, round necks, but where the undertunic was floor-length, the tunic dress ended just below the kneeline. She didn’t know why, but she felt she looked quite distinctly older in her new garments.
If only her mother hadn’t insisted that she wear her hair unbound so that it fell about her shoulders in a cloud of vibrant color. It was so babyish! She sighed deeply. After all, she was to be thirteen years old tomorrow! At thirteen years of age girls married, but Mairin knew very well that her father had not yet made any matches for her. Whenever she attempted to broach the subject, he would smile tenderly at her and say, “It is too soon, my angel. I will not give you to just anyone. For you, my Mairin, it will be a very special man.” What made a man special? she wondered.
“Look between your eyebrows, child,” said Eada coming up behind her daughter. “There is a distinct frown groove there. Whatever can you be thinking of that has caused you such distress?”
“Must I wear my hair loose, mother?”
Eada swallowed back her smile. “Yes,” she said firmly. “You are a maiden, my daughter. Among our people it is the custom for a maiden to wear her hair loose, or in braids. I thought you would prefer wearing it loose today. I have brought you this to make your coiffure a tiny bit more elegant.” She placed a filmy gold silk veil atop Mairin’s head which she then set firmly by means of a dainty gold-and-freshwater-pearl circlet.