The day has been weary and dusty for the silk route merchants as they lead their camels in a long line from the east. The colours on the horizon foretell a windstorm coming their way. They desperately need shelter. Their camels, heavily laden, strung out in a caravan, but secured together with tassels and twisted ropes, are protesting loudly: yowling, with their yellowing teeth exposed. They are ready for food and for water. One of them, Rashid, has an abcess in the web of his foot between his two toes that needs lancing. Another, Ahmid, is also limping, and he has flies over an old leg wound, which could do with a poultice. Soon. Soon, they will stop.
Luckily, shelter for the night, and protection against unruly raiders attempting to swoop on the goods laden on the backs of their camels, appears on the horizon in the last light of day. By all prophecies, this should be the new caravanserai at Sultanahani. This is the first time the travellers have seen it. To reach this stop, enroute from Persia, and the lands of the Mongols before that, has taken them all of a day, a draining 40 kilometres of slow trudge, which is as far as the beasts of burden are prepared to move in one turn of the sun. Add this to the many many days beforehand, and they are bone weary, men and beasts. The Seljuks know of their travails, and like other good folk across these eastern lands, have built shelters to care for them, their goods and their animals.
The Sultanhani caravanserai looks like a palace to the weary traders as they approach. And it is built like one. Great blocks of volcanic tuff have been pulled out of the earth from around these parts, and hewn into giant rectangular blocks, set atop each other in a large walled rectangle. There is little decoration to be seen on the external walls apart from some tuff turrets and curved alcoves which help create space, and give much strength to the high walls. The lone entrance to the complex is through a double fortified iron door set into a giant marble portal. The marble is coloured in veins of pink and blue and white, and decorated elaborately, in patterns similar to some that are on the carpets and fabrics they have rolled on their camels’ backs for trade: geometric, interlocking, intricate. Typical of the times. In this year of Allah, being 1229. It is beautiful. One of the most beautiful porticos they have seen.
Leading their camels through the portal the traders feel as if they are walking into a royal palace. They have rarely seen such luxury. The great external walls of tuff enclose a massive open courtyard: built for days when the weather is fine and fair. Here the camels can spit and snort and sleep after their packs have been unrolled, and the caravanserai animal doctor might find time to dress Ahmid’s wound, and, Allah be praised, lance Rashid’s ailing tumour. And the animals will be given fodder, and be rested by the porters. Life is good.
Tonight, though, the weather bodes poorly. Traders and animals will be moved into the covered arched courtyard to the right, for shelter from the wind and mayhap, later, the rain. Here, they are beseeched to throw down their travel packs and their beddings, and rest. For three days they are welcome here, quite freely, looked after thoroughly by the Seljuk folk. This is their way. A welcome for long distance travellers. A kindly attendant brings across a tray of small silver goblets filled with a warmed infusion from the Mutfak. It is refreshing. They sit on their rugs, sipping and watching for the few minutes they have before the call to prayer in the mosque.
With lamps and torches being lit all over the caravanserai they can now take time to see the new mosque. It stands on decorative arches and rises up a second story. It is the only structure permanently built occupying space in the courtyard. Its walls, too, are covered with interesting and intricate designs. The architect really was an artist. Such beauty may last forever.
On the far side of the courtyard there are rooms with doorways. They make out the kitchen, with its tandoor oven and can smell the charring of the bread, meat and peppers they will likely be offered for their evening meal. Already they are salivating. Further down, one of the doorways leads to a hamam. Later, they will bathe and have a massage and, Allah be praised, all the aches and pains of the day will be rubbed away. The call to prayer echoes around the covered courtyard, and they reach for their beads, wash, and spend time on their knees in the mosque thanking Allah for this day. After prayers they take time to explore the massive structure at the rear of the palace. This is entered through another elaborate portico, which they can see is richly decorated in the soft light of lamps.
Inside is a monumental space filled with arches and a domes, like a grand basilica, illuminated only by arrow slits letting in the last rays of evening light, making it feel warm and cosy and welcoming. Various corners are occupied by merchants, ready and eager to trade goods for those of the camel traders. This is where they can gather any supplies. Here, too, they can sit and talk. Not just with other camel traders, but with all kinds of travellers: pilgrims, noble folk, strangers from different lands who have also come a long way and are resting here. Outside, the windstorm begins to rage as night falls heavily, but Allah be praised, all is right with the world behind these walls. Tonight they can rest safely, with food in their bellies, and their animals watered and snoring. What more can a busy traveller need?
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