Read Online The Thread by Victoria Hislop - Free Book Online

lost between the brothers, Leonidas felt obliged to stay with Konstantinos. They walked eastwards, then sat all night and much of the following day at a safe distance along the waterfront, watching the cremation of their beloved city.
    That day, many were convinced that a miracle took place.
    The fire had cared little for any religion. There were a few minarets still standing, like tree trunks in a burned out wood, but almost every synagogue had been razed. Dozens of churches had been lost as well, but when the fire reached the ancient basilica of Agia Sofia, it mysteriously stopped. Some saw it as an answer to their prayers.
    Whether through God’s intervention or not, the fire no longer had the wind behind it. The flames needed its power to help it leap to the next area of the city and without this, the conflagration could not continue. Even though the city would continue to smoulder for some days, the fire had run its course.
    By Monday morning, Konstantinos was eager to get back to the city. From where they stood, it was impossible to make out the extent of the destruction, and he was still certain that his main warehouse by the port would have survived
    ‘I need to inspect the damage,’ said Konstantinos.
    With growing trepidation, the brothers walked in silence towards their devastated city, the blackened silhouettes of the gutted buildings becoming ever more apocalyptic, the closer they came to the centre. There was a palpable sadness in the air. The city was in mourning, its blackened remains its own widow’s weeds.
    A man in rags stood with Bible in hand raging to an imaginary congregation. He was reading from the Book of Revelation.
    ‘Alas, alas, for the great city that was clothed in fine linen, in purple and scarlet, adorned with gold, with jewels, and with pearls. For in a single hour all this wealth has been laid waste.
    ‘And all shipmasters and seafaring men, sailors and all whose trade is on the sea, stood far off and cried out as they saw the smoke of her burning, “What city was like the great city?” And they threw dust on their heads, as they wept and mourned, crying out: “Alas, alas, for the great city where all who had ships at sea grew rich by her wealth”.’
    ‘That seems to fit …’ said Leonidas.
    ‘Don’t be so superstitious,’ said his older brother angrily. ‘Some idiot started a fire. It’s as simple as that.’
    All along the water’s edge towards the city they noticed submerged remains of burned-out fishing boats. Against all odds, they had been caught by sparks from the flaming seafront buildings.
    Many others were making the same silent pilgrimage to inspect the devastation, and the spectacle they faced was worse than any of them had imagined. Hotels, restaurants, shops, theatres, banks, mosques, churches, synagogues, schools, libraries – all were gutted, as were the houses. Thousands upon thousands had been destroyed.
    A stillness hung over the city. The brothers saw many people picking over the ashes of their homes, unable to believe that nothing remained of their lives but the smouldering embers that might once have been furniture, clothing, icons or books. Everything was reduced to the same.
    Close to the Komninos home, two women walked towards the brothers arm in arm. They looked so incongruously elegant and at ease, protecting their heads from falling ash with a parasol, like ladies taking an afternoon stroll, but as they passed, the brothers saw that both women wept, unashamedly.
    When they arrived at their family home, they completely understood the women’s grief. For a few minutes, they simply stood and looked, unable to believe that this vast, smouldering space had once been the magnificent house that their father had built with such pride.
    A strong memory of his childhood bedroom overlooking the sea swept over Leonidas and he recalled how he had woken every morning to the dancing patterns of the sea on his ceiling. Although he had moved out many years