The Secret Lives of Buildings: From the Ruins of the Parthenon to the Vegas Strip in Thirteen Stories by Edward Hollis Page B

the last emperor Constantine forgot, for a moment, that he was a petty despot whose empire extended no farther than the walls of his city. He forgot that the jewels in his crown were made of glass, and that there was no more money. He forgot that the patriarch of the Orthodox Church had fled into exile, disgusted by Constantine’s alliance with the pope; and he forgot that the aid promised from Italy in return for that alliance had never arrived. He forgot that, until this night, his subjects had shunned him and his church of Hagia Sophiabecause he had sold their souls to the Western barbarians who had been the downfall of the city so many times before.
    He forgot, for a moment, that Constantinople had been under siege for nearly two months; and he forgot that in the previous three days there had been three terrible portents. The first sign was an eclipse of the full moon that sent everyone to their beds in terror. When they awoke in the morning, the emperor attempted to rally the people by carrying the Hodegetria in procession. This icon of the Virgin possessed magical powers: it directed processions of its own accord and was said to strike terror into the hearts of the enemies of Constantinople. Constantine hoped it would do the same this time. But as the acolytes carried the Hodegetria out into the street it fell to the ground, and when the people ran forward to pick it up the icon stuck fast. As they attempted to lift it, rain began to pour, and the procession had to be abandoned. The Virgin of the Hodegetria, it seemed, had deserted her people. This was the second sign, and the people went to their beds in redoubled terror.
    The first to see the third sign were out at sea, because when the citizens of Constantinople awoke on the third day they found their city swaddled in a fog so thick that the dome of Hagia Sophia could only dimly be seen. For centuries, ships had used the dome to guide them into the city, for at night the thousands of oil lamps guttering within it shone out over the water; and the sailor, in the words of Paul the Silentiary, would not “guide his laden vessel by the light of Cynosure, or the circling Bear, but by the divine light of the church itself.”
    That night the lights of the dome of Hagia Sophia were lit as usual and shone out over the waters; but soon they began to behave very strangely. The monk Nestor Iskander later recalled seeing
     
a large flame of fire issuing forth; it encircled the entire neck of the church for a very long time. The flame gathered into one; its flame altered, and there was an indescribable light. At once it took to the sky. Those who had seen it were benumbed; they began to wail and cry out in Greek: Lord have Mercy! The light itself has gone up to heaven.
     
    Everyone knew that the golden chain was broken, the angel was departed, and that the next day would be the last day of the RomanEmpire. It was too late for sectarian divisions, too late to blame the emperor for having asked the Italians for aid, too late to shun the Omphalos. And so on 28 May 1453 they gathered in Hagia Sophia to pray one last time. When the service was over, the emperor collected his Senate and his generals around him, and, weeping, he made one last desperate plea: “Hurl your javelins and your arrows against them, so that they know that they are fighting with the descendants of the Greeks and the Romans.” Then he went out to defend the city. The people raised their voices to heaven in desperate prayer, but heaven no longer heard them.

     
    O N THE OTHER side of the city walls the armies of Islam had also seen the signs, and they were ready. They had been waiting for them for some time.
    In 628, the emperor Heraclius had received a letter from an unknown desert tribesman. It read:
     
In the name of Allah the most Beneficent, the most Merciful: this letter is from Muhammad, the slave of Allah and his apostle, to Heraclius . . . Peace be upon the followers of guidance. I invite you to