ABSTRACT
At the ending, time closed round the dimming haze as the ferryman oared his solitary passenger silently ’cross the elegiac waters of Marmara. The stones of Helena had long since faded from the memories of this place and Jerusalem … O Jerusalem … And in the dying light, spectres of Byzantium mourned the passing of this last unnumbered soul. Caravanserai in Nineveh, Baghdad, Palmyra and Aleppo bore the trade on these routes, relaying silks and spices, pomegranates and quince, lapis lazuli and sweet perfumes, but as their gaze looked down on these exotic delicacies, the colours dwindled and a leaden miasma enclosed the ancient walls.
