Siege (35 page)

The janissary now facing Longo was a huge man, wielding a curved sword in one hand and a heavy spiked club in the other. Longo parried a sword thrust, ducked under the club and kicked the janissary hard in the knee. The janissary stumbled and then, to Longo’s surprise, collapsed dead. Standing in his place was Tristo, bloodied sword in hand. Behind Tristo, Longo could see William, spinning and twisting as he fought off numerous attacks. The two stepped through the Christian line and took up their places on either side of Longo.

‘I thought you were dead,’ Longo shouted to Tristo. Longo
deflected a sword thrust with his shield, and Tristo finished off the attacker, impaling him though the stomach.

‘Buried, but not dead,’ Tristo roared back. ‘William came and dug me out. A good thing too; it looks like you can use the help.’

‘We can’t hold out much longer,’ Longo said as he inched backwards under the weight of the Turkish attack. ‘We need reinforcements.’ The janissaries’ yelling drowned out Longo’s final words as a fresh wave of Turks joined the attack. Here and there, janissaries forced their way through and the Christian line suddenly disintegrated, dissolving into scattered islands of desperate men amidst the sea of janissaries. Longo, Tristo and William found themselves alone, fighting back to back as they were pushed towards the inner wall. ‘To me! To me!’ Longo yelled to his troops. ‘We must reform the line!’ Several nearby Christian soldiers joined them, but they were not enough to push back the Turkish tide.

‘We must sound the retreat!’ Tristo shouted. ‘The stockade is lost!’

Longo was about to agree when a series of loud booms cut him short. Nearby, a wave of onrushing janissaries simply vanished. Notaras had arrived with his cannons, rolling them into place around the gap in the stockade. They fired again, and the Turkish charge dissolved in the face of several hundred pounds of shot.

‘Come on!’ Longo shouted, seizing the opportunity. ‘Back to the stockade, men!’ He charged back to the gap, and his men followed. They swept aside the few janissaries who had survived the cannon fire and reached the gap in the stockade, where they again formed a line.

The janissaries mounted a final, desperate charge, but the assault collapsed as Notaras’s cannons reached the line and opened fire. Horns sounded in the Turkish camp, calling the retreat, and the men around Longo burst into cheering, calling out taunts after their retreating foes. For tonight, at least, they were victorious.

Mehmed stood on the Turkish ramparts and watched in disbelief as weary, bloodied soldiers streamed past him. Many carried fallen comrades. They had lost hundreds of lives, and for nothing.
Mehmed watched until the last of his men had left the field and returned to camp. He remained there until the flares lighting the battlefield had all faded and he stood in the darkness, gazing at the walls that had defied him. He had suffered defeat in battle for the first time, and he did not like the taste of it.

Mehmed was still on the ramparts when Halil and Ulu arrived. He was not pleased to see either of them. Halil’s insistence last night that the attack be delayed gnawed at Mehmed. He thought he could detect a certain smugness on the grand vizier’s face. As for Ulu, he had failed Mehmed. Ulu had lost the battle for the wall. Mehmed turned to him. ‘How many men did we lose?’

‘Several hundred of our best, Sultan,’ Ulu replied. ‘The Edirne
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was almost entirely wiped out.’

‘And the Christians? What were their losses?’

‘Few, My Lord. Perhaps fifty men.’

Mehmed turned away to look at the wall again. ‘How did this happen?’ he asked. ‘We outnumbered them ten to one. The wall is in ruins. Victory should have been ours.’

‘They were ready for us, My Lord,’ Ulu said. ‘The holes opened in the stockade by the cannon were narrow, and our greater numbers useless. They had fully armoured knights and cannons waiting. Surprise was not with us.’

‘Spies,’ Mehmed hissed. ‘I fear that we have a traitor in our midst.’

‘Perhaps, Your Excellency,’ Halil said and then hesitated before continuing. ‘But the janissaries grumble that Allah is against us. The members of the janissary
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are waiting for you in your tent. They insist that we raise the siege and return to Edirne.’

‘Nonsense,’ Mehmed replied. ‘We must simply stretch the Christian defences further. I have a surprise for them – one that they will not be prepared for.’

Halil cleared his throat. ‘I am afraid that the janissaries are not willing to debate the point. If you do not agree to raise the siege, then they will kill you and proclaim your son, Bayezid, sultan.’

‘Rebellion, then,’ Mehmed said quietly. The siege had lasted less than a month, and already his dreams of glory were falling
to pieces around him. He shook his head, forcing the thought from his mind. His men might run from the Christians, but Mehmed would not give up so easily. He would show his army the fate of those who defied him. ‘And you, Ulu?’ he asked. ‘Are you with them?’

‘I serve only you, My Lord,’ Ulu replied.

‘Good. Then gather a dozen men whose loyalty you trust and bring them to my tent.’ As Mehmed strode back through camp, he saw
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after
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of janissaries, still in their battle armour, standing around the tall copper cooking pots that served both to prepare their meals and as their rallying point in battle. The pots had all been overturned: a declaration of mutiny. Mehmed met the eyes of as many men as he could. Some saluted him, but most of them looked away, embarrassed. A few defiantly returned his gaze. The crowd was thickest near Mehmed’s tent. Mehmed walked through the janissaries, some with their swords still in hand, and stopped before the entrance to the tent. He turned and addressed them in a loud voice.

‘You have served me loyally in this campaign. You have marched far, from Edirne to Constantinople. You fought bravely tonight before the walls of Constantinople, and although victory was not ours tonight, do not think that I value your service any less. I am a just ruler, and I will always reward faithful service. For your efforts thus far in this campaign, I will increase your pay by fifty aspers each.’ Mehmed paused as there was scattered cheering amongst the men. ‘For it was neither the walls nor the defenders of Constantinople that defeated you, but traitors in our own midst. Tonight, they stole victory from us, and now they would have us turn tail and flee. They would steal the glory and the spoils that are rightfully yours.

‘We will not let them!’ Mehmed roared. ‘No, we will stay, and we will fight! In the days ahead, there will be glory for the brave and spoils enough to make rich men of you all. All the wealth of Christendom will be laid at your feet. You have but to follow your sultan, and I will lead you to glory!’ He paused and turned
slowly in a circle, meeting the eyes of the men around him. ‘Now,’ he continued. ‘Who will follow me to glory? Who will serve their sultan, even unto death?’

At first, there was simply frozen silence, and then a janissary near Mehmed knelt and raised his fist in salute. Another followed him and then another, until all around Mehmed the janissaries knelt. Ulu bellowed out ‘Hail to the sultan!’ and the cry was taken up and repeated. The chant swelled and swept over Mehmed. The men’s cheering was intoxicating. For the first time since taking the throne, he truly felt like the sultan. But his work was not done. He had dealt with the janissaries. Now he had to deal with their leaders.

As the chanting and cheering subsided, Mehmed turned and called Ulu to him. ‘Enter the tent,’ Mehmed told him. ‘Seize the commanders, but do not kill them.’ Ulu nodded and led his men into the tent, their weapons drawn. When the shouts and clash of arms had faded, Mehmed strode in after them.

He found the leaders of the rebellion, eight janissary commanders, kneeling on the floor of the tent, each with a sword to their throat. ‘If I allow you to live,’ Mehmed told them, ‘then I will never see the end of challenges to my authority. I am a just sultan, and betrayal of this sort demands justice. Ulu, take these men outside and have them beheaded before their men. Be quick about it, and do not let it become a spectacle. Let my men see that I deliver justice swiftly and fairly.’

The commanders begged for mercy, but Mehmed ignored them as they were dragged from the tent. He went to his private quarters and poured himself a cup of wine. He tried to drink as little as possible while in the field. After all, alcohol was forbidden by the Koran, and he did not want his men to think him impious. Still, after the events of the night he felt the need for something stronger than water. As he raised the cup to his lips he heard from outside a strangled cry and the sickening thud of the executioner’s sword. He set the cup back down, untasted.

After bathing and changing into breeches and a tunic, Longo did not reach the palace until after midnight, but the victory celebration was still in full swing. The palace’s great hall was packed with soldiers and women, all drinking toast after toast to victory. Longo paused at the entrance to the hall, and a herald announced him. The crowd cheered and raised their cups in salute. Longo found himself surrounded by well-wishers. As he greeted a succession of men and women, he scanned the hall looking for Sofia. He spied Tristo roaring with laughter and William smiling at his friend’s merriment, but Sofia was nowhere to be seen.

‘Congratulations, my friend!’ Constantine exclaimed as he approached Longo. ‘What a glorious victory. God is truly with us! The Turks will never conquer these walls!’

‘I hope that you are right, Emperor,’ Longo began, but the rest of his remarks were cut short by the herald announcing the arrival of Megadux Lucas Notaras. Longo noticed that the cheering was even louder for Notaras than it had been for him and was pleased. Perhaps this glory would make Notaras more cooperative.

‘Ah, the megadux,’ Constantine said. ‘I must congratulate him as well. Without his cannons, the battle would have been lost.’ Constantine moved away, and Longo made his way through the crowded hall looking for Sofia. When he did not see her there, he headed out into the interior garden. It was empty.

‘Looking for someone?’ Startled, Longo turned to find Notaras standing at the entrance to the hall. The megadux had a dangerous gleam in his eye, and Longo suspected that he had been drinking.

‘No,’ Longo lied. ‘The hall was crowded. I just wanted some fresh air.’

Notaras stepped out of the shadows and into the garden. ‘I see,’ he said. ‘I thought perhaps you might be searching for Princess Sofia. The two of you seem to be very close.’

‘I do not like your tone, Notaras,’ Longo replied. ‘Be careful what you say.’

‘No, Signor Giustiniani, it is you who should be careful.’ Notaras
stepped forward so that he and Longo were face to face. Longo could smell the wine on his breath. ‘I know about the tunnels, and I also know about your late-night meeting with Princess Sofia. Mark me well, signor: I will do whatever is necessary to protect her honour and my own.’ Notaras stepped past Longo and strode from the garden.

Longo watched him go. Notaras must have surprised Sofia last night when she was returning from the tunnel. Now the megadux was jealous, and jealous men were dangerous. Was that why Sofia was not at the celebration? Had Notaras done something to her? There was only one sure way to find out. Longo headed for the kitchen and the secret passage to Sofia’s chambers.

He reached the end of the secret passage and fumbled in the darkness for the mechanism to open the door. When he finally found the catch and pulled the door open, he found Sofia standing before him, dressed in a thin sleeping tunic and holding a sword. She smiled when she saw him and dropped the sword. ‘It’s you,’ she said and stepped into his arms, kissing him. ‘Thank God you are all right. I heard news of the battle and feared the worst.’ She stepped out of his arms, and suddenly realizing that her tunic was not entirely opaque, went to the bed and threw a blanket over her shoulders.

Longo discreetly turned his head. ‘Why did you not come to the celebration?’ he asked.

‘Constantine has forbidden me from leaving my quarters after sunset,’ Sofia said. ‘Notaras told him I was roaming the palace late last night.’

‘Notaras warned me not to see you,’ Longo said.

‘He is not a man to be trifled with. You should take his warning seriously.’

‘I know.’

‘Yet you are here.’

‘I wanted to make sure that you were all right. When you did not appear tonight, I feared that something had happened.’

‘And is that the only reason you came?’ Sofia asked.

‘No, no it’s not,’ Longo said. He pulled her into his arms and kissed her. Her mouth opened to his, and his hands moved down her sides, encircling her thin waist and pulling her into him. Sofia kissed him greedily and began to unbutton his doublet. Longo pulled back. ‘Are you sure?’

Sofia stepped back and slipped the blanket from her shoulders, revealing her firm breasts, just visible through her tunic. ‘I have never been more sure. I have chosen you to love, Longo.’ Then she took his hand and led him to her bed.

Chapter 17

SUNDAY 22 APRIL TO THURSDAY 3 MAY 1453,
CONSTANTINOPLE: DAYS 22 TO 33 OF THE SIEGE

S
unrise was more than an hour away, and Sofia’s bedroom was still dark when Longo rose and began to dress. He had come to her chambers each of the past five nights, risking their reputations and perhaps even their lives to be with her. He watched her now as she slept, a strand of her chestnut hair falling over her peaceful face, and decided once more that the risk had been worth it. He buckled on his sword belt and was about to leave when Sofia stirred in bed. ‘It is early yet,’ she said, sitting up. ‘Where are you going?’

‘To the walls. The night grows long, and if I am not at my post by dawn, then I will be missed.’

‘Will you return tonight?’

‘I do not know. We are risking much, Sofia. If we are discovered, then you will be ruined.’

To Longo’s surprise, she laughed. ‘I would rather be ruined than live out the rest of my life locked up behind doors as a proper lady. Tell me that you will come again tonight.’