Anderson, Poul - There Will Be Time by Anderson Poul

Author:Anderson, Poul
Language: eng
Format: epub, pdf

Having briefed himself in the Eyrie’s large microtape library, having had a costume made and similar details taken care of, he embarked.

An aircraft deposited him near the twenty-first-century ruins of Istanbul and took off again into the air as quickly as he into the past. A lot of radioactivity lingered in these ashes. He hadn’t yet revealed the fact of his chronolog and must find his target by the tedious process of counting sun-traverses, adding an estimate of days missed, making an initial emergence, and zeroing in by trial and error.

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Leonce had been furious at being left behind. But she lacked the knowledge to be useful here, except as companion and con-soler. Indeed, she would have been a liability, her extreme for-eignness drawing stares. Havig meant to pass for a Scandinavian on pilgrimage--Catholic, true, but less to be detested than a Frenchman, Venetian, Aragonese, anyone from those western Mediterranean nations which pressed wolfishly in on the dying Empire. As a Russian he would have been more welcome. But Russians were common thereabouts, and their Orthodox faith made them well understood. He dared not risk a slip.

He didn’t start in the year of the conquest. That would be too turbulent, and every outsider too suspect, for the detailed study he must make. The Crusaders actually entered Constan-tinople in 1203, after a naval siege, to install a puppet on its throne. They hung around to collect their pay before proceed-ing to the Holy Land. The puppet found his coffers empty, and temporized. Friction between East Romans and

“Franks” swelled to terrifying proportions. In January 1204, Alexius, son-in-law of the deposed Emperor, got together sufficient force to seize palace and crown. For three months he and his people strove to drive the Crusaders off. Their hope that God would somehow come to their aid collapsed when Alexius, less gal-lant than they, despaired and fled. The Crusaders marched back through opened portals. They had worked themselves into hom-icidal self-righteousness about “Greek perfidy,” and the horror began almost at once.

Havig chose spring, because it was a beautiful season, in 1195, because that was amply far downtime, for his basic job of survey. He carried well-forged documents which got him past the city guards, and gold pieces to exchange for nomismae. Al-ter finding a room in a good inn-nothing like the pigsty he’d have had to endure in the West-he started exploring.

His prior visit had been to halcyon 1050. The magnificence he now encountered, the liveliness and cosmopolitan colorful-ness, were no less. However raddled her dominion, New Rome remained the queen of Europe.

Havig saw her under the shadow.

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