Siege (38 page)

‘Aye,’ Tristo agreed. ‘There’s a rat in this city. Somebody let them know we were coming.’

‘We’ll never get them out of the harbour now,’ Longo said. ‘And with the harbour in their hands … We don’t have enough men to defend the sea walls and the land walls.’

‘So what do we do now?’ William asked.

‘We send for help,’ Longo answered. ‘And pray that somebody comes.’

Five nights later,
la Fortuna
was ready to sail. William had been eager to join the expedition, and as much as he feared for the young man’s safety, Longo had agreed. After all, William had fought bravely during the attack on the Turkish fleet, and he had saved Longo’s life. The least Longo could do was give him this chance for glory, and also a chance to visit his young wife on Chios. He would serve as lieutenant to Phlatanelas, who had volunteered to captain the ship.

The ship could be seen docked alongside a pier in the distance. Under the cover of night, the sides of the ship had been lined with shields like a Turkish warship, and the Turkish colours now flew from the mainmast. Longo spotted William on the deck, giving orders to the crew. Like the rest of them, he was dressed like a Turk in baggy pants, a loose red shirt and a turban.

As Longo and Tristo came on board, William hurried to greet them. Tristo engulfed him in a hug. ‘Take care of yourself out there, young pup,’ he said, lifting William off the ground. He put him back down and clapped him on the back. ‘Stay safe, William.’

Longo stepped forward and clasped William’s hand. ‘I will be fine,’ William said before Longo could begin. ‘It’s the city that you should be worried about, Longo. Keep it safe until I return.’

‘Keep yourself safe,’ Longo told William. ‘Phlatanelas is a good man; do as he says. And remember, if you see a Turkish ship, run. You’re going out to find help, not to defeat the Turks single-handedly.’

William nodded. ‘I understand.’ He looked across the ship to where the one Turkish member of the crew, Turan, was busy tying off the cable from the tugboat. William lowered his voice. ‘This Turan, can we trust him?’

‘Not all Turks are our enemies, William,’ Longo said. ‘His family has lived in Constantinople for generations. This is his home, and he will fight for it as hard as you or I. He speaks Turkish, too, and can interpret for you should you need it.’

‘Longo!’ Phlatanelas called as he crossed the deck to join them. ‘Well met. Thank you again for offering your ship.’

‘Of course,’ Longo said, clasping the captain’s arm. ‘Keep her safe, and make Chios your first stop. My men there will be able to tell you where the Venetian ships are, if they are out there at all.’

‘I will,’ Phlatanelas said. ‘And you, hold the city until we get back.’ He released Longo’s arm and went to the wheel.

Longo turned back to William. ‘You should get away without trouble,’ he said. ‘On a night this dark, the Turks should take you for just another of their warships.’ Beneath Longo, the ship had started to move forward, towed out into the Golden Horn. Longo grasped William’s hand again and held it. ‘Come back safe,’ he told William.

‘I will, and we will not fail you,’ William replied. Then, Longo turned and leapt from the ship to the pier. He watched as the vessel made its slow way out into the estuary. William waved once from the poop deck and then turned to face the sea. Longo watched until first William, and then the entire ship, disappeared into the darkness.

‘Never fear,’ Tristo said, placing his hand on Longo’s shoulder. ‘He’s a tough little bugger, William is. We’ll see him again.’

Chapter 18

SATURDAY 5 AND SUNDAY 6 MAY 1453,
EDIRNE: DAYS 35 AND 36 OF THE SIEGE

S
itt Hatun stood at the window of her bedchamber and looked out over the imperial palace and beyond to the river. In the hazy morning light she could just make out the heavily laden boats setting out to resupply the army at Constantinople. Seeing them, she thought of her trip to Manisa months ago, but then shook the thought from her head. There was no sense in dwelling on past misery. Those times were over. Now she was the
bas haseki
, mother of the sultan-to-be, with more money and more servants than she needed. She had everything that she desired.

She turned from the window to watch her son. Selim sat in the corner, playing quietly with Bayezid. The two young princes were a study in contrasts. Bayezid, now nearly four years old, was a solidly built, athletic child with fair skin and sandy brown hair. Already, it was clear that he would excel as a hunter and a warrior. Selim, one and a half years Bayezid’s junior, was thin and frail, with olive skin and black hair. His face was gentle, but he had Mehmed’s intelligent, piercing eyes. Although he was small for his age, Selim already displayed an insatiable curiosity that delighted his tutors.

Sitt Hatun smiled to see them together. Fate worked in strange ways, and none were stranger than this: that the son of Sitt Hatun’s most bitter rival should become a regular in her household and the playmate of Selim. Bayezid’s visits had grown more and more
frequent over the past months, since Sitt Hatun first showed his nurse, Kacha, the secret passage leading from his bedroom to her apartments. Bayezid preferred Sitt Hatun’s apartments to those of Gülbehar, and Sitt Hatun could hardly blame him. Kacha told her that Gülbehar often slept until noon, and that she spent much of her day at the
hookah
smoking hashish. And since Mehmed had left for Constantinople, Gülbehar’s tirades, which echoed all the way to Sitt Hatun’s chambers, had become an almost daily event. Little wonder that young Bayezid was eager to escape his mother’s presence.

At first, Bayezid had come only at night when Gülbehar’s household was asleep, but lately he had come in the mornings as well. Kacha covered for the young prince in his absence and hurried to inform Sitt Hatun if Bayezid’s mother called for him. Despite herself, Sitt Hatun had grown fond of the child. At first, she had seen the boy merely as a tool to be used against Gülbehar, and had cultivated his friendship in order to turn him against his mother. But now she found that she cared for Bayezid almost as if he were her own son.

Sitt Hatun moved to her bed and sat down to watch Bayezid and Selim. They were playing with a set of carved pieces intended to represent the siege at Constantinople. There were towers, gates and sections of the wall, all of which could be fitted together. In addition, there were dozens of tiny figurines of Christian knights and Turkish soldiers. The entire set was carved from ivory, and the workmanship was exquisite. Mehmed had sent the set to Selim so that he could follow the siege and begin to learn military strategy.

Sitt Hatun watched as Bayezid helped Selim to piece together the wall of Constantinople. They had only been playing for a few minutes, but already the miniature wall stretched for four feet across the floor of the room. ‘Now we need a tower,’ Bayezid said. Selim found the appropriate piece, and Bayezid took it and set it into place. ‘Now a gate.’

After Bayezid set the gate into place, Selim took up one of the figurines – a Turkish bey on horseback – and placed it in the gate.
He turned and gestured proudly. ‘Look,
anne
!’ he said. Selim always called her his
anne
, or mamma. ‘Father!’

Sitt Hatun smiled. ‘That is very good, Selim.’

There was a knock at the door, and Kacha entered through the secret passage. ‘Excuse me, My Lady,’ she said. ‘But Gülbehar has awakened and is calling for her son.’ Bayezid pouted at this and sat down, his arms folded across his chest.

‘I don’t want to go,’ he said.

‘You must,’ Sitt Hatun told him. ‘Your mother will be angry if you do not return soon. And if she learns that you are here …’ Sitt Hatun did not need to finish. Bayezid understood that if his visits were discovered, he would never see Sitt Hatun or Selim again.

The boy frowned, but he rose and went to the secret passage. He stopped at the door. ‘I am a prince,’ he said. ‘Why can’t I choose where I live? Why can’t I choose my mother?’

Sitt Hatun shook her head sadly. ‘There are some things that even princes cannot choose,’ she told Bayezid. ‘Now go. Farewell, little prince.’

Kacha took Bayezid’s hand and led him away. After a moment, Selim came over to Sitt Hatun and placed his hand on his mother’s knee. ‘What’s wrong, mother?’

Sitt Hatun realized that there were tears in her eyes. She had hardened herself against such sentimentality, but Bayezid’s words had moved her. The boy deserved better than Gülbehar for a mother. But how could Sitt Hatun play mother to this boy when he would have to die in order for Selim to take the throne? She knew that she should use Bayezid or send him away. Loving him was not an option.

Sitt Hatun wiped her eyes and lifted Selim on to her lap. ‘Nothing is wrong, my prince,’ she told him. ‘Nothing at all.’

Isa stood in the shadowy entrance to a narrow alley and watched as night fell on a busy street in Edirne. Across the street from him stood a row of houses and merchants’ shops, crowded close
together. In the centre, looking no different from any of the other dingy, stuccoed buildings, was the house where his family was kept prisoner. Isa had not seen his wife and two children for nearly a year, but tonight he would be with them again. And this time, he would take them with him, far away from this accursed place. He had only one task to complete first. Once the young prince Bayezid was dead, Isa and his family would be free.

The shadows deepened around Isa and the crowd thinned until only a few merchants remained, hurrying home down the dark street. The moon would not rise for several hours yet, and in his tight-fitting black clothes, Isa was nearly invisible. It was time. He turned his back on the house and slipped away down the alley. Keeping to the shadows, he made his way to the palace, where he stopped in an alleyway across from the outer wall. All around the palace there was a paved, torchlit space some twenty feet wide. At night the space was forbidden ground. Archers patrolled the walls, and anyone caught trespassing would be shot on sight. Isa would have to cross the open space unseen if he hoped to enter the palace.

From where he stood, he could see two guards talking on the wall above. He waited several minutes, but they did not move away. Isa drew his dagger and prised a stone loose from the wall next to him. He threw it far down the street to his left, and it landed with a loud crack and rolled clattering along the pavement. The guards turned to follow the sound, and Isa took the opportunity to dash across the open space. He flattened himself against the wall and waited, motionless. No alarm was raised. He had not been seen.

Isa crept along the wall and rounded a corner to the side that faced the river. He continued until he came to a rusted metal grate set low into the wall. The grate covered the mouth of a small sewage tunnel, some three feet across. He slipped on a pair of black leather gloves and then drew a pouch from his belt and carefully sprinkled a dark green powder around the edges of the grate where it joined with the stone of the tunnel. He took a
leather water skin and splashed the powder with water. There was a hissing sound, and then noxious green smoke rose from the edges of the grate. A few minutes later the grate came loose in Isa’s hands. He set it aside and crawled into the tunnel.

The bottom of the tunnel was covered with a slippery, foul-smelling layer of muck – the rotting refuse washed down the kitchen sewer. Isa ignored the smell, thinking of his family’s freedom as he wormed his way through the filth. After a hundred feet the tunnel ended beneath another grate. He quietly shoved the grate aside and emerged into the empty, dimly lit harem kitchen. He replaced the grate, crossed the kitchen and entered a narrow spiral stairwell. At the top he emerged into a lightless corridor. He moved slowly down the corridor, feeling the walls with his hands. After a few feet he found a latch and pulled it. The wall swung open before him and he stepped into the reception room of Gülbehar’s apartments. The room was dark, which meant that Gülbehar’s household was probably asleep. That would make his job easier. With any luck, he could slip in and out without being noticed. Everyone would assume that the boy Bayezid had simply died in his sleep.

Isa slipped silently through the reception room and entered a long hallway that ran the length of the apartment. Halil had informed him that the entrance to Bayezid’s quarters was at the far end of the hall. The boy’s quarters consisted of three rooms: a reception room, a play room and his bedroom. Isa had almost reached the door to the reception room, when it opened and an
odalisque
stepped out. She screamed and turned to run, but Isa lunged for her and grabbed her by her long auburn hair. He yanked her towards him and slit her throat, cutting short her terrified screaming. Isa stepped over her and into the room. He shut the door behind him and locked it, then moved into the play room and again shut and locked the door. There were noises now coming from the hallway behind him. Isa would have to hurry.

He took a small vial from a pocket and kicked open the door
to Bayezid’s bedroom. The bed was empty. Isa quickly searched the room, but the boy was gone. In the next room, the doors shook as somebody tried to open them. Isa knelt and reached for one of the pouches that hung at his belt. Better to die here than to live and see his family killed for his failure.

Then he saw it: a thin crack running up the otherwise seamless wall on the far side of the room. It was the edge of a secret door, left slightly ajar. All was not lost. Isa slipped through the door and shut it firmly behind him.

Sitt Hatun awoke from a troubled sleep to the sound of loud knocking. She jerked upright, suddenly wide awake. The knocking repeated itself – two knocks, a pause and then three knocks. It was the code that she had worked out with Bayezid and Kacha. She hurried to the door and opened it.

‘Bayezid!’ Sitt Hatun exclaimed. ‘What are you doing here?’ She stopped. Bayezid had not moved and his face was ghostly white. ‘Are you well?’ Sitt Hatun asked. ‘What has happened?’ Bayezid still did not move. Sitt Hatun crouched down and took the boy’s head in her hands so that he was looking her in the eyes. ‘Tell me what happened, Bayezid.’