Constantinopolis (27 page)

Should Mehmet remove Zaganos from command? Could that help him in any way? He could not see the profit in such a decision. Perhaps he should tie him closer to the battle itself. He had kept Zaganos away from the land walls except for consultations, instead stationing him across the Golden Horn near the walls of Galata. What if he placed him directly in charge of the forces in the center? Initially he had not done so because he wanted to assure Zaganos was not given too much credit for victory. But what if things did not go well. If the city could not be taken and Zaganos was in charge of the main attack could he not then blame his general? Was this a way out with Halil? Wasn’t Halil’s real objection to Mehmet that he would not take his advice, that he had raised upstart converts to the highest positions in the land? Could the Sultan hedge his bets by placing Zaganos in a vulnerable position, and removing him in the event of failure?

Interesting. The benefits of the decision seemed to outweigh any additional glory Zaganos might garner if the city was taken. Mehmet would get most of the glory in such a case anyway. He liked the thought. He would move Zaganos to the center of the action and let him take over. But if the walls were breached again they would attack until the Sultan said to stop. There would be no measured retreat again.

Mehmet hastily wrote a note and then called for his guards to locate a courier. He handed the courier the message and asked him to deliver it to Zaganos, the new general of the center.

TUESDAY, MAY 8, 1453

Constantine stood with Giovanni and watched Greek and Italian workman desperately hammering together the makeshift wooden palisade to fill the enormous gap in the outer wall. Again Constantine thanked God and the Virgin for bringing him Giovanni. When the wall exploded he was sure the city was going to fall. The quick action of the Italian brought the reserves to the breach quickly. Courageous fighting and the superior armor and weapons of the Greeks had prevented the fall of the city, but Constantine knew they would have been doomed without the wooden structure that was even now being frantically constructed.

Miraculously, the Ottomans had pulled back from their furious attack when all seemed lost. This allowed the Greeks to work quickly in the early morning of May 8 to construct a new and far more extensive wooden barricade. In only a few hours the full hole was stopped up with the solid wood barrier. This new barrier was showing the same remarkable ability to withstand cannon shot, and Giovanni assured Constantine it would hold so long as materials and men were ready to repair it as necessary.

The attack had been very costly to the defenders. Almost 200 Greeks and Italians had been killed or wounded. Constantine was now forced to pull even more men off the walls in other portions of the city to rebuild the reserve force. The quality of the fighters was also less than the original force, as Giovanni had culled the best armored, most experienced men in the first place to create the fast response reserve force. Would these lesser men hold up to a ferocious attack like occurred last night? It was just another worry for Constantine, among all the worries.

Still, Constantinople held. Another day, another miraculous day. Surely it was God’s will that the Greeks had held the wall against such odds for so long last night. Would this success be enough to drive the Ottomans away? At some point, they must give up and leave. Or the city would be relieved by an Italian fleet, or a Hungarian army. Something had to happen to save the city. The city was always saved. Constantine would not allow it to fall when he was Emperor. He could not allow it.

He walked down near the walls and began chatting encouragingly with the soldiers and the builders, patting shoulders and shaking hands. The men were exhausted but when they saw their Emperor they smiled. Constantine was exhausted too. Exhausted and depressed. He did not show it. He smiled and spoke about the end of the siege and the eventual defeat of the Ottomans. He thanked the men for their service and sacrifice for the city.

Giovanni called him back after a time, and Constantine left to cheers from the men. He was ready to return to the palace for some much needed sleep. “What is it my friend?” he asked the Italian commander.

“Grave news My Lord.”

Constantine chuckled. “More grave news. Can there really be any more? Let me guess, the Italians and Hungarians are joining forces with the Ottomans and are going to attack the city as well? Or maybe there is a plague that has killed all our soldiers? Or an army of demons is attacking the city from hell?”

“The last thing is nearer the mark than you might guess.”

“What do you mean?”

“I have had reports from multiple sources. There is a muffled sound of hammering below the ground.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I am afraid the Ottomans are tunneling My Lord.”

Constantine felt an icy cold inside. “What do you mean tunneling?”

“I am afraid they may be digging underneath presumably to blow holes in the walls. I am hearing reports from multiple locations, so if it is true, then there may be a number of tunnel excavations at the same time. That would make sense my Lord, if they are attempting to overwhelm our defenses with multiple breaches at the same time.”

“They hardly need multiple breaches, as the last one nearly finished us off.”

“Yes my Lord but of course there is no way they can know that for sure. They have failed now with several single breach attacks. The Sultan may be losing confidence in the ability of his men to battle their way through one breach. By the same token, one could have nothing to do with the other. These tunnels take some time to develop. This strategy may be an unrelated effort to create a breach.”

Constantine thought about that. “I guess it does not really matter the reason. The point is that there are likely tunnels being built under the city. What can we do about it?”

“I may have an answer to that My Lord. I have someone I would like to introduce you to.”

“Okay.”

Giovanni left and returned a few minutes later trailed by a shorter man. He was heavily armored with reddish brown hair, freckles and pale skin. “My Lord, this is John Grant. He came to the city with my company. He is from a far away land. I apologize that he does not speak any Greek.”

“Where is he from?”

“He’s from Scotland originally my Lord, and later he served in the military in Germany. He has extensive experience dealing with tunneling operations.”

Constantine looked the man over and then greeted him in Italian. “Well met John Grant. Giovanni tells me you have experience with tunneling. I must confess I know little about the subject. What can you tell me?”

“Thank you my Lord,” said Grant, bowing low before continuing. “It is true I have experience in dealing with tunneling from my time in Germany.”

“How does that help us now?”

“What do you know about tunneling?”

“Frankly, very little.”

“The key to dealing with tunneling is to find out where the tunnels are likely being dug, and dig counter tunnels.”

“What is a counter tunnel?”

“That is a good question my Lord. A counter tunnel is basically a tunnel that we construct, and we dig under the ground until we dig right into their tunnel. Then we attack the people below, kill them, and cave in their tunnel.”

“Is that difficult to do?”

“It is My Lord, particularly with many tunnels to deal with. But it is critical. If we do not stop them, they will certainly blow holes in your walls. Based on what I saw yesterday, I imagine the city will not be able to handle multiple attacks at the same time.”

“What do you need to deal with this?”

“I need men, wooden beams, shovels, and a small fighting force.”

“How many men?”

“I need several hundred My Lord, and I need them now. We need to start digging at all points where sounds have been detected. If we do not do this, and if we do not do it now, it will be too late. I do not want to alarm you, but it might already be too late.”

“What do you mean too late?”

“If they are too far along right now, it will not matter. We will need some time to locate the tunnels. It is possible they are already in position, and capable of blowing up the walls right now. All I can do is try to stop them. I cannot promise anything.”

“Do it. You’ll have everything you need.” Constantine could not believe it. Was it possible to actually have more things to worry about? As if the breach, and the ships, and the siege, and no reinforcements, and food, and money and Italian bickering were not enough problems. How would he find more men for Grant to utilize? Could he really afford to further thin the ranks? He would have to find the men, whatever the cost. It made no difference if the sea walls were well defended when the land walls fell. He would have to pray that the Ottomans failed to realize his weakness. He would have to remove more men and leave the walls facing the sea practically defenseless.

He turned to Giovanni and ordered the same, switching back to Greek. Giovanni agreed with his assessment, and gave orders immediately to remove some of the defenders from the sea walls. If Constantinople was attacked by the Ottoman fleet now, there would be little chance to defend the walls before men would be over them and in to the city. So be it. The end result of the siege was God’s Will.

SATURDAY, MAY 12, 1453

God was still with them. There was no immediate series of explosions from below the ground. Over the next several days Grant, working around the clock, was able to successfully dig into several tunnels and collapse them. He came back describing terrible and bloody underground battles, the stuff of nightmares. But he was producing results. There were still more tunnels out there he was sure, and they were moving closer to several of them. The threat was not gone, but a crisis certainly had been averted.

Unfortunately another crisis was brewing that might tear apart the city. Constantine had requested that the Venetians allow several ships in the harbor to be unloaded of men and arms. The Venetian Bailey had agreed, and made the order.

The sailors had rebelled and refused to come ashore or remove their arms and cannon. They were unwilling to do so apparently because they felt the city was doomed, and that they would be abandoning their only chance to escape if they acquiesced to the order.

Constantine needed the men and supplies, but this was not the most significant problem. The rebellion of these sailors had acted like a match to a powder keg. Other Italians, particularly the Genoese, were quick to accuse the Venetians of betrayal and cowardice. The Venetians in response were threatening to load up their people and leave the city. If Constantine lost the Venetians, he would lose fully a tenth of his men. Additionally, any relief fleet would likely be partially if not heavily made up of Venetians. He could not afford to lose them.

He called for a small council of representatives to meet at St. Sophia that evening. He hoped to iron out the differences and keep the peace. His only fear was that in gathering all of the Italian leaders together in one place, one of them might insult the other, and only make things worse. Still, he had to do something before he woke up and the Venetians were simply gone.

He rode back from the walls to his palace and sat down with Loukas Notaras for a private lunch. He had not had very much time to spend with his friend in the past few days, as Notaras was busy with the fleet and Constantine had been at the land wall and dealing with the tunnels.

He arrived and shortly thereafter sat down with Notaras to eat. “Well met my friend. How are things in the Horn?”

“Still tricky my Lord. We have not lost any more ships but they certainly have kept us busy. They fire periodic cannon shots at us, and they also send a few ships here and there at the walls. We send ships out after them, but they always turn around and head back to shore. They have also tested the boom with their outer fleet, but again, once we set out after them they quickly turn away.”

“So no serious threats?”

“Not so far. I think they are just testing our responses. Frankly if you want my assessment, I believe the incident with the Genoese relief fleet really shook their confidence. I think they are worried about pushing too hard at sea.”

“That does not make sense to me. What about their victory in our surprise attack?”

“That was not really a victory at sea my Lord, as their land cannon did most of the damage in that attack. And obviously they had been tipped off, because they were so clearly expecting us. I do not think that has changed their concerns about attacking us at sea.”

Constantine wondered if Loukas was being entirely truthful with him. Again Sphrantzes’ concerns had clouded his mind. Was it true they were afraid to attack, or was Notaras making this as an excuse to again minimize his defeat. The Emperor had not known his friend to shy from responsibility in the past, but never had there been more at stake. What if Notaras was wrong and they did mount a huge sudden attack? Would he be prepared for it? If he suffered another defeat, would this leave the sea walls completely vulnerable and cause the city to fall? Constantine found himself again unsure what to do and what to think. He had never doubted Notaras before. He realized there was nothing he could do about it. If he replaced him now, it would take the new commander days to learn the entire strategic situation. That could be more dangerous than leaving him in place. He would simply have to absorb this worry along with all the other worries and uncertainties he constantly faced. He smiled to himself. What was one more problem?

“Did you ever respond to Mehmet’s offer about peace terms?” asked Notaras.

“No I did not. I thought about simply saying no, but there did not seem to be any advantage in doing so. If he thinks we are still pondering it, then perhaps that will cloud his thinking.”

“What about your thinking My Lord? Respectfully, I hope you are not leaving this surrender proposal open as a possibility.”

“Of course not,” responded Constantine, irritably. But was he? It was true that he had held back, but he was not sure of his reasons why. Was there a part of him that was considering taking the offer, some dark part of his mind? He had caught himself thinking about the offer, particularly late at night, dreaming of peace, of comfort, of leading his people to safety. He could see himself in a small home, having turned the cares of the world over to someone else, Zophia next to him looking out over the Aegean Sea. Was the offer still open? Should he stop being stubborn and consider it? Sphrantzes thought he should. Notaras could not conceive of it. What would Zophia think? He had not discussed it with her and now he was not sure he would. Did it matter? Could he ever bring himself to do anything more than consider with the idea. He doubted he could, at least until it was too late.