Smuggling the Muse into The City of Ladies
“Why can’t I stay in the theater, or at the Abbey. The Abbey’s nice; it’s quiet.”
“Sorry, Henry, but you’re my muse and we have work to do in the City of Lady’s. This is where I need you.”
“I hate the dress!”
“Yeah, well, I’m not that comfortable either, but it’s the whole Christine Pizan thing I told you about. Just trying to blend in. And speaking of blending in—we’re going to look suspicious if you keep hugging the shadows,” I told him, as he dodged a circle of light spilling down from an old fashioned gas lamp. “Maybe it was a bad idea waiting until dark, at least in the daytime we could walk a straight line.”
Henry looked at me in horror and his blond wig quivered in distress. He mumbled something under his breath.
“Now what?” I was beginning to lose patience. Henry and I have worked on and off with each other for years. I try to overlook his timidity and moodiness but, there are times when it takes all my effort just to prop up his frail ego.
“Yyyy-you always say-aaay you’re honest! This is a llll-ie”
“Fine! Here’s my building. You want to go back? Leave! Go!”
“Bbbb-by myself?”
“Of course, by yourself! I have work to do, with or without you! Come on, Henry, don’t we always have fun with Enchanteur’s prompts? Remember the donkey ride? The times with Oreo and Tookie in the Abbey?”
He managed a weak smile. “I guess–sss, but what if they c-c-c-catch me?”
“Worse case scenario, we’ll be a little embarrassed, but I’m certainly not the first woman to smuggle a man into her apartment. Ah, good the elevator’s here. My apartment’s large and the living room couch pulls out so you’ll be quite comfortable. We both need to get a good night’s sleep for tomorrow’s walking tour. I think the first stop is the catacombs, that should be interesting. Henry? Henry! Oh, darn, where are those smelling salts?”
Henry and I Enter the Mouseion in The City of Ladies
“We sh-sh-should’a brought a l-ladder!” Henry murmured.
“Wow.” This was awe, pure and simple.
Henry and I had decided to spend a day touring the famous center of learning in the City of Ladies, but we had not been prepared for the reality that stood before us. Our first glimpse as we’d turned the corner from Avenue Palazio to Museum Way seemed to indicate it was very close and yet we’d walked at least three or four blocks before arriving at the sweeping stone steps fronting the enormous sandstone building that was the entrance to a whole series of museums, courtyards, gardens and libraries.
The arched and sculpted bronze doors to the Lemurian Mouseion soared nearly twenty feet high. My first thought was disbelief at what we were seeing. Who could have had the artistic and engineering know-how to produce such massive metal doors? How could they have been hung?
“Legend says the doors grow in size as new knowledge and art are accumulated,” I said. Henry’s remark about the ladder was apt, but I was wishing for a bench where we could sit and study the intricate panels. I gauged the majority to be two feet square and, these, like pages in a book, hinted at the art exhibits inside. Architectural panels were tall and narrow and honored buildings easily recognized from around the world: churches like Chartres and Notre Dame, landmarks like the Empire State Building and the Eiffel Tower, even a replica of the Mouseion itself. Others were unknown to me. Every six feet or so long landscape panels divided the doors horizontally. Stepping back in order to see above my head, I saw the New York skyline and on the opposite door, Sidney Harbor and its sailing ship Opera House.
I probably would have stayed there for an hour or more trying to identify all the sculpted scenes when Henry asked, “H-h-h-how do we get inside?”
Too engrossed to have even pondered this obvious question, I blinked stupidly and admitted, “I have no idea.” I couldn’t imagine doors of this size and obvious weight swinging either in or out.
To my surprise Henry began laughing. “G-g-g-got it,” he said as his fingers searched the Mouseion in miniature. With barely a sound, the heavy doors eased inward as gently as a curtain blowing in the breeze.
There before us loomed a city within a city, with tree-lined streets, stone and wooden buildings and charming little shops.
To be continued.
This page has the following sub pages.
where is Henry?