An hour later I was riding through the streets of the mighty city, clad in shining armour.  As the season was that of October, in which the Feast of St. Michael falls, we wore cloaks, although, the day being warm, they were little needed.  Mine was of some fine white stuff, with a red cross broidered on the right shoulder.  Stauracius, the eunuch and great minister, who had been ordered to act as my god-father, rode alongside of me on a mule, because he dared not mount a horse, sweating beneath his thick robe of office, and, as I heard from time to time, cursing me, his god-son, and all this ceremony beneath his breath.  On my other hand was my god-mother, Martina, riding an Arab mare, which she did well enough, having been brought up to horsemanship on the plains of Greece.  Her mood was varied, for now she laughed at the humour of the scene, and now she was sad almost to tears.

The streets were lined with thousands of the pleasure-loving people of the city, who had come out to see the show of the Empress going in state to the cathedral.  They were gathered even on the flat house-tops and in the entrances to the public buildings and open places.  But the glory of the sight was centred, not about me, with my escort of guards and chanting priests, but in Irene’s self.  Preceded and followed by glittering regiments of soldiers, she drove in her famous golden chariot, drawn by eight milk-white steeds, each of which was led by a bejewelled noble.  Her dress was splendid and covered with sparkling gems, and on her yellow hair she wore a crown.  As she went the multitudes shouted their welcome, and she bowed to right and left in answer to the shouts.  Now and again, however, bands of armed men, clad in a dress of a peculiar colour, emerged from side streets and hooted, crying: 

“Where is the Augustus?  Give us the Augustus.  We will not be ruled by a woman and her eunuchs!”

These men were of the party of Constantine, and set on by him.  Once, indeed, there was a tumult, for some of them tried to bar the road, till they were driven away, leaving a few dead or wounded behind them.  But still the crowds shouted and the Empress bowed as though nothing had happened, and thus by a somewhat winding route, we came to St. Sophia.

The Augusta entered, and presently I and those with me followed her into the wonderful cathedral.  I see it now, not in particular, but as a whole, with its endless columns, its aisles and apses, and its glittering mosaics shining through the holy gloom, across which shot bars of light from the high window-places.  All the great place was full of the noblest in the city, rank upon rank of them, come thither to see the Empress in her glory at the great Feast of St. Michael, which year by year she attended thus.