Whenever a party of
knights appeared, the men withdrew within their houses, the women were
out of sight in a moment, and within the windows the curtains were
closely drawn. Looking to right and left for the sign of a friendly
tavern or the more desirable attraction of henna-dyed hair and painted
cheeks and darkened eyes, the strangers saw nothing on each side of the
street but blank houses and closed doors. But when they had passed, the
curtains were parted, the doors were ajar again, and curious eyes
looked after the big mailed figures, the gaudy cloaks, and the enormous
cross-hilted swords of the Frenchmen. Of the poorer people in the
streets and those whose business kept them abroad on that day, the men
scowled resentfully at the intruders and the women drew their veils
closely across their faces. For although the French were gentler and
less uncouth to see than the rough Germans who had wrecked the city a
few weeks earlier, the Greeks were past trusting any one, and looked
upon all strangers with like fear and ever-increasing distrust.
When he was within the gate, Gilbert saw three broad roads before him,
stretching downward from the higher land on which the city wall was
built. Vast and magnificent, Constantinople lay at his feet, a rich
disorder of palaces and churches and towers. On the left, the quiet
waters of the Golden Horn made a broad, blue path to meet the Bosphorus
in the hazy distance before him; on the right, the Sea of Marmara was
dazzling white under the morning sun, where its mirror-like reflections
could be seen between the towers of the sea-wall.
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