Siege (52 page)

‘You are the monk, Gennadius?’ Mehmed asked in Greek.

‘Yes,’ Gennadius croaked. His mouth had gone dry, and it was all that he could do to speak.

‘Rise, then, Gennadius. It is not fitting for the patriarch to grovel.’

‘The patriarch?’ Gennadius asked as he climbed unsteadily to his feet.

‘I am a man of my word, Gennadius,’ Mehmed said. He barked
an order in Turkish, and a servant came forward carrying the white, conical hat of the patriarch. Mehmed took it and placed it on Gennadius’s head. ‘I declare you Patriarch of the Orthodox Church.’

‘You are most kind, Sultan,’ Gennadius said. He could hardly believe his good fortune. The patriarchy was his. Now, he could destroy the Union and return the Church to its rightful state. He held up his hands, still shackled together. ‘Please, these chains – they are very heavy.’

‘The chains stay, Patriarch,’ Mehmed replied. ‘I do not trust any man who would sell his own city for the price of a hat. Take him to his church and see that he stays there.’

‘But Sultan …’ Gennadius began.

‘You are lucky to be alive,’ Mehmed cut him short. ‘That is more than you deserve. Take him away.’ The guard jerked the chain, pulling Gennadius away. ‘Farewell, Patriarch,’ Mehmed called after him.

Longo lay in his cabin aboard
la Fortuna
, struggling against the pain that radiated out from his chest with every breath he took. When they had reached Pera, two days before, William had found a doctor to treat Longo, but it quickly became clear that no medicine could help him. Longo’s fate was in God’s hands.

Longo heard footsteps on deck, and a moment later William entered. ‘Good news,’ he said. ‘The sack has ended. The sultan has declared that any further pillage will be punished with death. Some of the merchants of Pera have already been to Constantinople to trade and have returned. One of them told me that Grand Vizier Halil has been executed by Mehmed himself. The merchant saw Halil’s head on a spike in the forum of Constantine.’

‘Then my revenge is complete,’ Longo whispered. ‘I never dreamed that it would be the sultan who avenged me.’ He closed his eyes. He had dreamt about this moment for so long, but now that it was here, he felt nothing. Halil’s face had already ceased to haunt him; his death made little difference. And besides, Longo
had more pressing matters to attend to. ‘If the sack of the city is ended, then we must lose no time,’ he said. ‘William, prepare the ship to sail. We will leave as soon as possible.’ William left, and soon Longo could hear the hurried steps of men on the deck above, preparing
la Fortuna
to sail. More quickly than he expected, however, his cabin once again fell silent. Sofia appeared in the doorway, her eyes flashing.

‘What is the meaning of this? I leave you for but a second, and you order the ship to sea?’

‘We have no choice. It is too dangerous for you to stay here. You know what happened to the rest of the imperial household. And now that the sack has ended, the Turks will turn their attention to Pera.’

‘But if we sail, you will die,’ Sofia responded. ‘You can hardly breathe as it is. A voyage on the open sea would be the end of you.’

‘I will die regardless, Sofia. I have seen my share of battlefields. I know a fatal wound when I see it.’

‘You may or may not die, but I will not be the death of you. We will not sail. That is final.’ There was a knocking on the cabin door. ‘What is it?’ Sofia called.

William entered. ‘It is the sultan,’ he said. ‘He is at the docks of Pera, and he is coming here.’

Mehmed stepped off the dock and on to the gently swaying deck of
la Fortuna
. His guard had already gone before him to search the ship. The crew had been disarmed, and they stood huddled together on the deck, surrounded by janissaries. A particularly beautiful woman stood amongst them. Mehmed studied her for a moment, admiring her lithe figure and perfect olive skin, then looked away. After all, he was not here to examine the Italian’s crew. ‘Where is Giustiniani, the defender of Constantinople?’ he asked.

One of the crew – a lean young man – stepped forward. ‘What do you want?’ he asked. ‘Have you come to kill him in his bed?’

‘If I wished him dead, then he would be dead already,’ Mehmed replied. ‘I wish to speak with him.’

‘Very well. I will take you to him,’ the young crewman said. ‘Follow me.’ He stepped down a hatchway that led below decks.

Mehmed approached the hatchway, and his guard hurried to follow him. ‘Stay where you are,’ Mehmed ordered. ‘I will be safe enough here.’ He followed the young man into the dim light below decks.

The hold in which Mehmed found himself was crowded with rows of cots, one atop the other, swinging with the motion of the ship. A hatchway in the floor led deeper still into the ship, to where Mehmed presumed supplies were stored. Before him, at the far end of the hold, a door stood open.

Mehmed’s guide stopped at the doorway. ‘The sultan is here,’ he called into the room. Then he stepped aside and motioned Mehmed inside. Mehmed entered to find himself in a small stern cabin. An oil lamp hung from the ceiling, illuminating the scene. There was a desk against the far wall, with charts and a pitcher of water upon it. A chest sat against the wall to the left. To the right hung a cot in which lay Signor Giustiniani, his face pale. His chest had been heavily bandaged, and his breath came in ragged gasps. He looked nothing like the man that Mehmed had met before the walls of Constantinople only a few days before. A stool stood by the cot, and Mehmed sat down on it.

‘Greetings, great Sultan,’ Longo wheezed. ‘You honour me with your presence. What brings you to my ship?’

‘I wished to see you,’ Mehmed said. ‘To honour you for your brave defence of the city. You are a great warrior, signor. You were a worthy adversary.’

‘Not worthy enough, it seems. The city has fallen. It is you who have been proven the great warrior.’

‘Perhaps you are right, but you fought bravely with few men. Your deeds will long be remembered, by my people as well as yours. Your sword will always be welcome in my service, if you so choose.’

Longo shook his head. ‘I fear I shall not wield my sword again. Not in your service or in any other.’

‘I see,’ Mehmed said gravely. The two men fell silent. Finally, Mehmed spoke again. ‘Perhaps you are the lucky one, signor. It is a strange thing: to fight for one thing for so long and then to suddenly achieve it. Constantinople is conquered, yes, but what now do I fight for?’ He shook his head sadly, his creased forehead making him look far older than his twenty-one years. ‘I do not know.’

‘You are young yet,’ Longo replied. ‘And there are other things to fight for besides cities and glory. You will learn that in time.’

Mehmed smiled. ‘You are right, I am sure. You are as wise as you are brave, a rare combination indeed. I wish to honour you, to pay tribute to the defender of Constantinople. I had planned to offer you a place in my army, but since you cannot serve, is there anything that you wish of me, land or titles? If it is within my power, I will grant it.’

‘My crew,’ Longo said. ‘They have served me well. All I ask is that you swear to spare the lives of all on this ship and to allow them safe passage to Chios.’

‘It shall be as you say.’ Mehmed rose to his feet. ‘And, I shall tell my men to bring you whatever provisions you need for your journey.’

‘You have my thanks, Sultan.’

‘It is nothing less than you deserve,’ Mehmed said. ‘Farewell, Signor.’ He turned and left. The young man was waiting to lead him back up to the deck. Once there, Mehmed called the captain of his guard to him. ‘Give this ship safe passage, and see that it receives whatever provisions it needs,’ Mehmed ordered as he stepped on to the dock.

‘Yes, Sultan.’

‘And have my baggage prepared and my horses readied,’ Mehmed added. ‘I wish to leave the city tonight.’

‘For where, Sultan?’

‘For Edirne.’

Moonlight fell through the open windows of Sitt Hatun’s apartments, illuminating her as she lay in bed, unable to sleep. Mehmed was to arrive tomorrow, and she feared his return. She had heard that Halil had been executed, and Sitt Hatun worried that Isa had betrayed him. Had Isa betrayed her as well? Sitt Hatun shuddered at the thought.

A loud cry from somewhere in her apartments startled Sitt Hatun, and she sat up. A few seconds later, Anna burst into the room, a sword in her hand.

‘What is it?’ Sitt Hatun asked.

Anna tried to speak but no words came. Blood trailed from her mouth, and she slumped to the floor, revealing a deep wound in her back. Sitt Hatun knelt beside her. ‘Who has done this?’ she asked. ‘What happened?’

Anna managed to mouth one word –
Selim
– before she choked on her own blood and went still, dead. Sitt Hatun took Anna’s sword and hurried into Selim’s room. Two members of the sultan’s private guard stood over a third who lay on the floor unmoving, but Sitt Hatun ignored them. Her eyes were fixed on Selim. He was floating face down in his bath. Sitt Hatun dropped the sword and pushed past the guards. She lifted Selim from the water and held him to her, cradling the boy in her arms and gently rocking him. ‘Selim, my angel,’ she whispered to him. ‘Wake up, my son. I am here now. Wake up.’ But it was no use. Selim was dead. Sitt Hatun sank to the floor.

‘The sultan is waiting for you,’ one of the guards told her. ‘You must come with us.’

The sultan: he had done this. Mehmed had killed her child. Sitt Hatun’s grief transformed into rage, and she rose from the floor, still clutching Selim to her. ‘Take me to him,’ she told the guards.

Mehmed stood in the hallway outside Sitt Hatun’s quarters. Behind him stood several of his private guard, and out of the corner of his eye Mehmed noticed Gülbehar arrive with the boy
Bayezid. No doubt Gülbehar had come to witness Sitt Hatun’s fate.

The doors to Sitt Hatun’s quarters swung open, and Sitt Hatun stormed out, holding Selim’s lifeless body in her arms. ‘How could you!’ she screamed at Mehmed. She tried to slap him, but he caught her arm. ‘He is only a child!’

‘He was a bastard and the son of a traitor,’ Mehmed replied.

‘Look at him,’ Sitt Hatun urged, thrusting Selim towards him. ‘Look at him! He is your son!’

Mehmed looked at the boy. Selim’s large, brown eyes were open and seemed to stare accusingly at Mehmed. They were Mehmed’s eyes. There was no mistaking the resemblance.

Mehmed felt sick and looked away. ‘Dispose of the boy,’ he ordered his guards. He was suddenly desperate to have Selim gone, somewhere where the child’s sad eyes would not be able to haunt him. ‘Cast him into the river.’

The guards stepped forward to take Selim. ‘No! No!’ Sitt Hatun screamed as the guards wrested Selim from her. ‘Selim! My child! Bring back my child!’ As the guards disappeared with her son, Sitt Hatun collapsed to the ground, her energy gone. ‘Kill me,’ she said quietly, ‘and be done with it.’

‘You shall not die,’ Mehmed replied. ‘You saved my one true son, Bayezid, and so I shall spare your life. But you are dead to me, Sitt Hatun. You shall live out the rest of your life in exile, and you will never see my face again.’ Two guards grabbed her arms, lifted her to her feet and dragged her away. Mehmed saw Gülbehar smirk as Sitt Hatun was dragged past her.

When Sitt Hatun was gone, Gülbehar stepped closer to Mehmed and slid her arm around his back. ‘It is nothing less than she and her bastard child deserved,’ she whispered.

Mehmed turned and slapped her hard. ‘Do not think that I have forgotten your treachery, whore,’ he said, his voice cold. He pulled Bayezid away from his mother. ‘You may return to you quarters.’ Mehmed walked away, pulling Bayezid after him.

‘But my son!’ Gülbehar cried.

‘He is my son, and mine alone,’ Mehmed told her. ‘I will not let you poison him against me. Take her away.’ The remaining guards stepped forward and pulled Gülbehar towards her quarters.

‘Bayezid! My son!’ Gülbehar cried as she was dragged away.

Bayezid began to cry. ‘Selim,’ he sobbed. ‘Sitt Hatun.’

Mehmed lifted the boy and held him. ‘Quiet, child,’ he said. ‘You must always remember: a sultan has no family, no friends, no lovers. He is married to the empire, and all are jealous of his bride.’

Longo weakened rapidly after his interview with the sultan. He slept more and more, and even when he was awake he drifted in and out of consciousness. In his delirium, he sometimes spoke out loud, yelling for help to fend off the Turks. Mostly, however, he called out for Sofia, and she was always beside him to take his hand.

On the evening of the 12th of June, fourteen days after the fall of Constantinople, Longo’s delirium broke, and he woke suddenly lucid from a troubled sleep. He felt tired, almost relaxed despite the burning pain in his chest, and he knew that his time was near. Sofia was seated in a chair beside him, asleep. She had drifted off keeping watch over him. Her eyes were dark from too many tears and too many sleepless nights. ‘Sofia,’ Longo whispered hoarsely, barely able to speak. ‘
Sofia
.’

She awoke with a start and took his hand. ‘You are awake,’ she said. ‘Are you thirsty? Shall I bring you water?’

Longo shook his head. ‘Send in Nicolo. And tell him to bring a quill and parchment.’ Sofia nodded and left. A minute later Nicolo entered the room.

‘How are you, My Lord?’

‘Never better,’ Longo said and smiled weakly. Nicolo chuckled, but there were tears in his eyes. ‘Write what I say,’ Longo told him. Nicolo nodded and took a seat at the small table in the cabin. Between laboured breaths, Longo dictated his last will, leaving his title and all his property on Chios to
William. Once William was dead, the lands would revert to Longo’s children.

‘William is young,’ Longo said when it was done. ‘Look after him for me, Nicolo. Make certain that his lands prosper.’

‘I will,’ Nicolo replied.

‘Good. Now leave the paper and send in William, alone.’ Nicolo left, and William entered and sat beside Longo. ‘The paper,’ Longo said, nodding towards his will. ‘Take it. It is yours.’

William took the paper and read. ‘But Sofia should have your lands.’