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But she had to wait a few hours to begin with her visit to the jewelry maker since she did not want to be pulling Ianthe from her bed. Gods only knew who would be sharing it with her. Well, actually, she knew, but chose not to have that image planted in her brain.
Suffering aleheads from overindulging the night before, all four of her hersirs declined her invitation to take her to visit with Sidroc’s mistress, although Alrek promised to come later ... once he stopped emptying the contents of his stomach into a chamber pot. Apparently someone had brought several barrels of mead up from the longships and they’d shown their appreciation in the way Viking men loved. A competition to see who could suck up the most brew in the shortest period of time. Men!
So it was with her four guardsmen that Drifa left through the huge bronze Chalke Gate, the main entrance to the Great Palace. Above the gate was an enormous mosaic icon of Christ. The first thing they noticed after passing through was the overpowering scent of flowers.
“ ’Tis the perfumers,” Ivar told her. “The law in Miklagard requires all makers and vendors of scents to be located within a stone’s throw of the palace gates. Can you guess why?”
She looked at the dozens of shops and stalls, promising herself to buy some perfumes for herself and her sisters on her way back later, and then she looked toward the bustling city. Even with the scented “screen” of the perfumers, the stench of the city was overpowering. A fragrance wall. How ... enterprising! She pinched her nose as they stepped forward, being careful where she stepped. “The interior of the palace is a marvel with terra-cotta pipes bringing in fresh water, and carrying away waste from the indoor privies. Why this?” She motioned toward the city.
“There are trenches along all the streets and underground drainage pipes, and aqueducts and cisterns, but hundreds of thousands of people are crammed into this city, along with their animals. It backs up. Not to mention slimy fish blood and rotting vegetables.”
One of her other guardsmen said, “I would not want to take a bath in the shores of the Bosphorus or the Sea of Marmosa where all this waste is being dumped.”
“They have public bathhouses throughout the city and privies where there are as many as fifty holes in a row,” Ivar said with a gleam of humor in his eyes. “They even have sponges on a stick for wiping, to be shared by all.”
“Whaaat?” Would men ever stop surprising her with the things they would discuss, even in the presence of women? Yea, Vikings were earthier than other peoples, but this was going a bit too far. “I cannot believe you mentioned that, Ivar.”
“There are buckets for rinsing the sponge,” Ivar conceded, “but I imagine it becomes rather rank after a while.” Ivar, like many men, enjoyed shocking women with the coarser side of life. “Mayhap they dump it in the many flower beds I see about the courtyards, like the manure you put on your plants, Princess Drifa.”
“Eeew!” But, really, was it any worse than using leaves or nothing at all back in the Norselands, or Saxon lands, too? At least Norse folks bathed often. “Well, it certainly puts a different light on the Jewel of Byzantium,” Drifa decided.
“Humph! More like a grubby, unpolished stone if you ask me.”
Drifa had to look up when talking to Ivar, as she did with the other Viking guardsmen. They were big men, and their size, as well as their weapons, was noted by many passersby as they walked on the raised pavement toward Ianthe’s jewelry shop. Ivar’s double-bladed battle-axe, which he had named Death Bringer, also drew particular attention.
Even as the guardsmen conversed with her, their eyes were ever alert for danger.
They headed toward the Augustaion, the public square, via the wide main thoroughfare known as the Mese. The Augustaion also served as a busy marketplace, with shops on both sides sheltered by colonnades. It was here they would find Ianthe.
Once they arrived at the jewelry shop, one of the guards stationed himself outside, next to one of Ianthe’s daytime shop guards. Two others went around the side and to the back of the property, and the fourth, Ivar, came inside with her.
Ianthe greeted her at the door, giving her a kiss on one cheek, then the other. “I am so glad you were able to come.”
“You are our first stop of the day. I hope we are not too early.”
“Not at all. I am up every day at dawn to prepare my shop for opening. And good that you came here first. I will show you some of the sights you must not miss in Constantinople, although it will take you days, mayhap weeks, to see everything.”
“I have time.”
Ianthe showed her around the shop first, where an assistant was laying out various pieces of jewelry on silk cloths and short display pedestals. In the back, two young women were sitting at long tables, one of them constructing a necklace of silver beads interspersed with aquamarines, and the other making one of the spiderweb creations like Ianthe had worn last night, also with aquamarines.
“You work often with the blue stones?” Drifa asked.
“I love them, all the different shades of aquamarines. Are you familiar with the stone?”
“By the runes! Am I ever! We Vikings are seamen at heart and there is a superstition about aquamarines that they keep a sailor safe and free from seasickness.” She rolled her eyes. “Because they are named after seawater, some lackwits even think they are harvested from mermaid caves.”
“I get mine from the Rus lands,” Ianthe said with a straight face before breaking out into a grin. “You would not believe the stories I hear, too. Thatthe stones can be used as antidotes for poison, thatthey cure throat, stomach, and tooth aches, that they bring good luck in battle to the wearer, even that they act as love potions.”
“I know of seers who use aquamarine globes to see the future.”
They both laughed. Then Ianthe said, “It matters not to me why they buy my jewelry, just that they buy it.”
Despite Ianthe’s protests that she had not invited Drifa as a customer, Drifa purchased three of the necklaces for Breanne, Ingrith, and Vana, and a set of delicate arm rings for Tyra.
She showed Ianthe the chest full of amber that she was going to present to the king, then asked her if she could complete a quick jewelry order for her, and dumped out a small leather pouch of tiny round amber stones the size of peas. “A necklace?” Ianthe asked.
“Nay, something else,” she said with a smile.
