After a journey whose details you would probably find as boring as I found them fascinating, I finally visited Constantinople (as I still thought of the city that the Turks call Istanbul or even Islambul). It truly was a wonder. Even more than Rome, it seems an old city. Certainly it has been prosperous for a long, long time, so there were amazing old wonders to see, and amazing modern ones, too. I spent a month there, visiting as far away as Ankara, high in the mountains to the east. One of the people I met, an old Christian priest with some facility in magic, suggested that on my return trip I should visit some pagan temples in Thrace.
“But,” he warned, “be careful when you travel in that region. The Turks and the locals do not get along well, so it is a haven for bandits.”
Few travelers went that way in November, so I traveled alone, but I did so with care. At the top of a pass, I visited an abandoned temple of Dionysus with a huge statue of the god still standing on a pedestal. I wandered the grounds and enjoyed the peaceful stillness of that gray near-winter day while my horse quietly cropped the grass. I made several sketches, especially of the statue, which gave me a great sense of awe, and the beautiful columns.
As the sun prepared to set, I was ready to continue my journey home after a quiet, productive day. But as a last flash of sun shone out from under the clouds, at first I thought it was an illusion. But no, I could indeed see the faint outline of a secret door in that great pedestal, revealed by just that angle of the setting sun on that day of the year, at that time of day. It proved to be locked, but that was nothing that the opening spell I had always ready couldn’t remedy. (In my hands, keys are for losing.)
The door opened onto a broad stairway. Beyond the landing, surrounded by inky blackness, a bright golden plaque shone in the sunlight. The being portrayed was definitely not an Olympian god. Most of it was a stylized relief of an eagle, except that in place of an eagle’s head there was a man’s body and head with a thick beard.
The sun continued to set and the light wouldn’t last long, but nevertheless I moved slowly down the stairs to the landing … whoever built this exquisite room and door could have built equally exquisite traps to protect its contents, and I didn’t have any trap-finding gear with me or suitable spell ready. Standing just out of the light, I quickly sketched what I saw, the wall plaque and the parquetry floor before it, whose inlay showed what I supposed were knives with curly blades, like some I had seen in the bazaars.
When I ascended, I closed the door behind me. I heard the lock snap back into place and once again the door was an invisible part of a marble wall. A cold evening wind blew up. It was definitely time to find shelter for the night!