Siege

Chapter 17

Sunrise 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.'

Longo looked at her, fiery and beautiful, and felt his resistance crumbling. 'I will come if I am able.'

Sofia rose and kissed him. 'Then go and be safe. I will see you tonight.'

Longo left through the secret passage and emerged into a dark, empty side street next to the palace. He strode towards his post on the wall at the military gate of St Romanus, overlooking the Mesoteichion. Once he thought he heard footsteps behind him, but when he turned he saw nothing. It was not the first time in the last five nights that he had suspected he was being followed. He could not forget what William had told him: the Spanish assassin was here in Constantinople. He tightened his grip on his sword and slowed his pace, listening for footsteps, but he reached the wall without further incident.

Longo stood atop the wall as the sky around him lightened, revealing first the stockade below and then the fields beyond, stretching away to the Turkish ramparts and their camp. There was little movement anywhere – even the air was still – and the occasional boom of the Turkish cannons seemed muffled. Looking out over this sleeping world, Longo felt himself at peace. For the first time that he could remember, he cared about something more than revenge. He was not here simply to defeat the Turks. He was here to save the city, and Sofia.

The sun rose fiery orange over the distant hills, giving a pinkish cast to the world. On the walls of Constantinople the guard changed, the night-watch going home to a well-deserved rest. The morning watch replaced them, still bleary-eyed and yawning. Many of the men had come straight from the fields just within the walls of Constantinople, where they had been up late struggling to bring in the crop of winter wheat and to sow their fields for spring. Tristo and William came with them and joined Longo at the wall.

'You're up early,' Tristo said, grinning at Longo. 'A long night, eh?' Longo gave Tristo a hard look, and Tristo's smile faded. 'Jesus you're a surly bastard in the morning. I was just asking,' he said. 'Anyway, have you heard the commotion coming from the sea walls?'

'The sea walls?' Longo asked. 'What has happened?'

'We're not sure,' William said. 'But when we were coming to the walls, half the city seemed to be headed down to the Golden Horn. We thought that you might know something about it.'

'Perhaps he'll know,' Tristo said, pointing to Dalmata, who was hurrying towards them along the wall.

'Longo, you must come quickly,' Dalmata said as he reached them.

'What is it? What has happened?'

'Something that you must see to believe.' Longo stood on the sea wall, not far from the Blachernae Palace, and watched in amazement. Dalmata, Constantine, Tristo and William stood with him. To either side of them, the entire length of the sea wall was lined with people, all with their eyes focused across the Golden Horn on the stretch of land beyond the city of Pera. There, a forest of masts was slowly rising over the horizon. The Turkish fleet was sailing towards them, sails billowing in the wind, and it appeared to be sailing over dry land.

'I do not believe my eyes,' Constantine said. 'This is not possible.'

'Is there a river there?' Longo asked. 'An inlet of some sort?'

'There is nothing. Nothing that could explain this,' Dalmata said, shaking his head. 'The land there is unbroken between the Bosphorus and the Golden Horn.'

They watched in silence as the masts rose higher and higher above the hills on the horizon. Finally, the prow of the nearest ship appeared. As the hull rose clear of the horizon, they could see that the oars were out, beating in rhythm against the empty air. Then, as it crested the hill, the ship's mysterious method of progress became clear. It sat suspended above the ground in a huge, wheeled cradle. Teams of oxen were slowly pulling the cradle forward. The enormous wheels of the cradle glinted in the sunlight: they had been cast in bronze to withstand the weight of the ships. Longo and the others stood speechless.

'Unbelievable,' Constantine said at last. 'I would not have thought it possible.'

A huge flag was unfurled from the mast of the ship. Even from this distance, Longo could make it out: golden Turkish lettering on a white-silk background, the standard of the sultan. Now that the ship was heading downhill towards the water of the Horn, it picked up speed. With each passing minute Longo could make out more details. A dais had been erected on the deck and on the dais a throne. Mehmed sat there, fanned by two slaves as he rode regally over the dry earth.

'The bastard looks a little too comfortable,' Tristo growled. 'We have a cannon that will reach that far, don't we?'

Dalmata smiled. 'I think we do.'

Longo shook his head. 'We would do better to save the powder. It would take a miracle to strike his ship at this distance, and we're going to need all the gunpowder we have in the days to come. As long as the Turkish fleet is in the Horn, it will be nearly impossible to receive any more supplies from the sea. We will have to fight with what we have.'

'I shall have to decree a rationing system,' Constantine said. 'Without supplies from the outside, food will run short before a month is out.'

'And with those ships in the Horn, we'll have to double the number of troops on the sea walls and in the fleet,' Dalmata added. 'We'll need to take men from the main wall.'

'We have too few men as is, and we'll have fewer once hunger sets in,' Constantine said. 'We must do something about those ships.'

Longo nodded in agreement. 'Yes. We must burn them.' Halil stood on the deck of the sultan's flagship, both hands gripping the rail as he struggled to stand while the ship bounced along, swaying erratically in its huge wooden cradle. Halil would just as soon have stayed in camp, but Mehmed had insisted that he be here, standing next to the throne. 'Look. They are watching us,' Mehmed said, pointing across the Horn to the sea walls of Constantinople. 'I hope they are enjoying the spectacle.'

'I am sure that they find it quite edifying,' Halil said, wiping sweat from his brow. Ahead of him, row upon row of sweating men sat rowing their oars through the air, and on the far end of the boat the stroke was being beaten on a huge drum: boom, boom, boom. The constant beating of the drum, combined with the hot sun overhead, was beginning to give Halil a headache. 'But is all of this really necessary?' he asked. 'Perhaps the ships might move faster were they not weighted down with all of the rowers.'

'I wish to let the Christians see that I command the land as well as the sea,' Mehmed replied. 'I will row my ships wherever I please.'

'Such foolishness…' Halil muttered under his breath.

'Foolishness?' Mehmed hissed. Halil swallowed, aghast. 'And what else would you have these men do? Would you prefer that they sit around camp, idle and discontented, stirring up another mutiny? This rowing may look foolish to you, Halil, but it keeps the men occupied. So long as they cannot fight, at least they can row.'

'Very wise, My Lord,' Halil said, impressed despite himself. Mehmed was right. Today, at least, these men would be too tired to cause any trouble.

'Yes, it is,' Mehmed agreed. 'And I have more ideas in mind to keep our men busy over the coming days. Tell me what you think of this.' He handed Halil a weathered sheet of paper. On the paper was a sketch of some sort, a construction plan complete with measurements. Halil made out what he thought were large barrels tied together, and over them a network of planks and boards. The entire structure seemed to be floating on water.

'What is it?' Halil asked.

'A bridge across the Golden Horn. It will stretch from there' – Mehmed pointed to the shore of the Horn below them – 'to there' – a point just past where the wall of Constantinople ran down into the Horn.

The project was ambitious, but the strategic implications were obvious enough. A bridge would allow the Turkish army to threaten the sea walls of Constantinople, forcing the Christians to spread their defences even thinner. It was a stroke of genius, and Halil did not like it. He had counted on a long, difficult siege in order to give his plans time to develop.

'A brilliant idea, Sultan,' he said. 'But dangerous, and perhaps impractical. Surely the Christian fleet would never allow this bridge to be built.'

'You are right, Halil. The Christians would do anything to prevent it. That is why I am placing you in charge of moving twelve cannons across the Horn to protect the fleet. The Christians would be fools to attack in the face of both our fleet and our cannons. We will build the bridge, and if the Christian fleet tries to stop us, then we will destroy them.'

'Very clever, My Lord,' Halil murmured. Indeed, too clever. Mehmed could not be allowed to conquer the city before Gennadius could eliminate him. The monk needed to act fast or else Halil would lose all that he had worked for these many years. Five days later, Halil returned from overseeing the placement of the first of the cannons across the Horn to find a messenger waiting outside his tent. 'What is it?' Halil snapped, irritable after a long day in the burning sun.

'One of your messenger pigeons returned to the coop in camp this afternoon without any message attached to it, Grand Vizier. You told us to inform you if this happened.'

A pigeon without a message: it was the sign that Halil had been waiting for. He called for a horse and rode straight to the imperial pigeon coop. He found the grey-bearded head keeper pottering amidst the many cages, scattering birdseed.

'Keeper,' Halil called. The man turned and upon seeing Halil, dropped his birdseed and prostrated himself on the floor.

'How may I serve you, great Vizier?'

'Get up,' Halil told him. The keeper scrambled to his feet. 'A pigeon returned this afternoon without any message. Do you remember which one it was?' The keeper nodded. 'Good. Take me to it.'

'Yes, Your Excellency.' The keeper showed Halil to a cage where a single pigeon sat. Halil took it from its cage and examined it. Sure enough, there was a dark spot just behind the pigeon's head. There could be no doubt now. There would be a meeting with Gennadius this very night. Not an hour later, Halil stood in a dark tunnel, fingering the jewelled handle of his sword as he waited impatiently for Gennadius to arrive. After finding the agreed meeting point, Halil had extinguished his torch, and he now stood in absolute darkness, listening keenly for any sound. He was sure that he had not been followed, but nevertheless, he was edgy. He did not like putting himself at risk like this. Still, with Isa gone to Edirne, he did not trust anyone else to meet with Gennadius. And this was a meeting that Halil could not afford to miss.

Footsteps echoed down the dark passage – the sound of sandals slapping against stone. The footsteps grew louder, and then a light came into view – a torch flickering in the distance. Halil studied the monk as he approached. Gennadius was compact and thin. His face was lined, but he walked with the erect, determined stride of a much younger man. He wore the simple black cassock of a monk, garb which matched his tonsured black hair. Gennadius slowed as he reached the meeting point. He still had not seen Halil.

'Where is the answer?' Halil asked, stepping out of the shadows and into the light cast by Gennadius's torch. Surprised, Gennadius took a step backwards, and his hand dropped to the dagger tucked into his belt.

'Who are you?' Gennadius asked. 'Where is Isa?'

'First, answer the question,' Halil insisted. 'Where is the answer?'

'Edirne.'

'Good. Edirne is also the answer to your question. Isa is there.'

'And who are you?'

'I am Halil.'

'Halil?' Gennadius asked, looking more closely at the vizier. 'Why are you here? I thought that we had agreed that the less contact there was between us, the safer we would both be.'

'Yes,' Halil agreed. 'But Isa is gone, and I do not trust anyone else. I am glad that you sent the bird; I need to speak with you. The siege is progressing faster than I had expected. We must act soon, or we will lose our chance.'

'I do not think so,' Gennadius replied. 'Moving a fleet into the Golden Horn is one thing; moving an army over the walls another. Constantinople has not stood for a thousand years only to fall easily now.'

'All the same, the time for action is now,' Halil insisted. 'I have paid you well, Gennadius. I hope for your sake that it was not money wasted.'

'Do not threaten me, Halil. You will find me decidedly harder to dispose of than one of your Turkish lackeys,' Gennadius warned, his voice low and hard. 'But we are not here to waste our breath on threats. In fact, I have information for you: an attack on the Turkish ships in the Golden Horn is planned for tomorrow night, under the darkness of the new moon.'

'Tomorrow night?' Halil's mind was racing. If the Turkish ships were destroyed, then perhaps it would buy him more time. 'What is their plan? How will they attack?'

'A fleet of small ships will sail after nightfall,' Gennadius told him. 'They plan to use Greek fire to burn the Turkish fleet.'

'You have done well, Gennadius. This is valuable information. I will see to it that the Christian fleet succeeds.'

'No, that is not why I have told you this,' Gennadius said. 'You must tell the sultan. In order for my plan to assassinate Mehmed to work, he must know that you have a contact within Constantinople, and he must see that the information from that contact is valuable.'

'I see,' Halil said. He thought he was beginning to understand Gennadius's plan, but Halil knew that the less he knew of the assassination, the safer he would be. 'You need say no more. I will do as you say. Is that all that you have to tell me?'

'That is all.'

'Very well,' Halil said. 'Do not contact me again unless it is absolutely vital. These meetings are too dangerous.'

'Dangerous?' Gennadius snorted. 'I have little enough to fear from my fellow Greeks. The people trust me more than the emperor, and those that oppose me are fools.'

'Let us hope that you are correct,' Halil said. 'Regardless, I do not wish to risk my life to prove your point. There will be no more meetings. The next time we meet, I expect that the sultan will be dead, and you will be the patriarch of a Turkish Constantinople.'

Gennadius nodded. 'So be it.'

'So be it,' Halil echoed, then he turned and walked away into the darkness. Gennadius climbed out of the dark tunnel into the church basement, which was lit by the flickering light of a single lamp set on the floor. Eugenius was waiting where Gennadius had left him – kneeling on the floor beside the lamp, his head bent in prayer. Gennadius touched Eugenius's shoulder. 'It is time to go, my friend.'

Eugenius nodded and rose. 'You were gone longer than I expected,' he said. 'Were there any difficulties?'

'Everything is proceeding according to God's plan,' Gennadius said. 'Now, let us return to the monastery before it grows dark.'

They made their way out of the small church and along the docks beyond the sea wall. The gates through the wall were shut by order of the emperor, but several of the guards at the Ispigas gate were loyal to Gennadius, and he had little trouble passing through into the city. From there, he and Eugenius wandered off the road and found the shaded path that sloped up to the cave that they would use to re-enter the monastery. Eventually, the path they were following levelled out. Ahead of them lay the dark entrance to the cave. They entered, but Gennadius had only taken a few steps when Eugenius froze. Gennadius stopped beside him, and as his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he realized that something was amiss. Ahead of them, the door set into the back of the cave was open.

Eugenius bent down and inspected the ground at their feet. 'Somebody has been here,' he said, pointing to the faint outline of footprints in the dirt. He moved forward, tracing the footsteps further. 'And they have not left.' He reached for his sword, but it was too late. From the corner of his eye, Gennadius saw several shadows detach themselves from the walls and surge towards them. Eugenius rose to fight them, but he was swarmed by three men before he could draw his sword.

Gennadius turned to run, but he had taken only a few steps when another man stepped out of the shadows to block his path. Gennadius was reaching for his dagger when he felt a sharp blow to the back of his head. The world spun. He felt himself falling and then, nothing. Gennadius awoke to the splash of cold water on his face. He quickly took stock of his surroundings. His hands were tied to the arms of a heavy wooden chair and he sat in a dark, luxuriously furnished room: thick Persian carpet, fine paintings on the walls, and a broad desk in front of him. Whoever was with him was not in view. They must now be standing behind him. Gennadius tried to twist his head around, but saw no one. However, from where he sat he could see several tools of torture on the floor nearby: a whip, screws and, most disturbingly of all, a giant metal spike of the sort that traitors were sometimes made to sit on. Gennadius felt panic welling up within him. 'Who's there?' he asked. 'What do you want from me?' There was no answer. Gennadius fought down his panic, forcing himself to breathe evenly. He was still alive, and that was good. Whoever had captured him wanted something from him, or he would be dead already. Or, Gennadius reflected grimly, they wanted him to suffer before he died.

A door opened somewhere behind Gennadius, and he heard footsteps approach. 'Welcome to my home, Gennadius.' The voice was that of Notaras. He strode into view and sat down at the desk, facing Gennadius.

Gennadius managed a weak smile. He glanced significantly at the ropes tying his hands. 'Thank you for your generous hospitality.'

'The ropes are necessary,' Notaras told him. 'I have some questions to ask you. My friend here will make certain that you answer.' Notaras gestured to the man behind Gennadius, who now stepped forward into view. He was tall and dark-skinned, his face lined with scars. He held a wicked-looking curved knife, which he tapped against his hand.

Gennadius ignored the man. He had to keep his conversation with Notaras going. He had information that might save him, if only he could get Notaras to listen. 'I will be more than happy to answer any questions you have for me, Notaras. I have nothing to hide.'

'Odd that a man with nothing to hide would leave his monastery through a secret tunnel. Stranger still that he would leave the city walls.'

'I did nothing of the sort.'

'Do not lie to me, monk,' Notaras snapped. 'The guards at the sea wall are not as loyal to you as you think. I know you left the city. Now I want to know what you are plotting. Consorting with the enemy is treason, Gennadius. The punishment is death. But if you speak truthfully, I might spare your life. Tell me: why did you leave the monastery in secret?'

'I have nothing to hide,' Gennadius replied. 'But I do have good reason to be careful. I took the tunnel to avoid you and your men. You have been poisoned against me, Notaras. I knew that you would not understand what I was doing.'

'And what exactly was that? Arranging another poisoning? Perhaps Sofia this time, or the emperor?'

Gennadius laughed. 'Don't be a fool. It is not the emperor that I wish dead, but the sultan.'

Notaras's eyes narrowed. 'Impossible,' he said. 'You could never get near him. No one can. He is surrounded by dozens of janissaries at all times.'

'No, not impossible, Notaras. Not with your help.'

'And why should I believe you? This is just another one of your tricks.'

'No, Notaras,' Gennadius protested. 'This is no trick. Together we can kill the sultan and save our city. You will be remembered forever as the saviour of the empire.'

Notaras shook his head. 'I do not believe you, Gennadius, and I will not listen to any more of your lies. I have seen enough of your treachery. You had Neophytus poison the empress-mother, and you killed him to save yourself. You would sacrifice anything or anyone to destroy the Union and become patriarch.'

'Would I, Notaras? Did Princess Sofia tell you that? You would be wise not to believe all that she says. I told you before that she could not be trusted. Each night she lies with Giustiniani, the man who has taken your rightful place as defender of the city.'

Notaras did not speak. He gestured and the dark-skinned man stepped forward and put his knife to Gennadius's throat, pressing hard enough to draw a thin trail of blood. 'Careful what you say, monk,' Notaras said. 'I shall lose my patience and have you killed before I am quite done with you.'

'Kill me if you wish, Notaras, but what I say is true,' Gennadius said, struggling to keep his voice from shaking. 'Why else do you think the emperor has confined Princess Sofia to her quarters after sunset? I informed him that something is amiss.'

'I did not know that the emperor had done any such thing.'

'There is much that you do not know, my friend. And I will not always be there to protect your interests. You must look after that woman of yours. She could be dangerous to you… to all of us.'

'You lie to save yourself,' Notaras replied coldly.

'Do I? Send your men to Sofia's chambers after nightfall. You will see if I lie.'

Notaras did not reply, but it was clear to Gennadius that he had only confirmed the megadux's fears. And those fears were eating at Notaras, undermining his better judgement, his distrust of Gennadius. Finally, Notaras waved off the dark-skinned man, who removed his knife from Gennadius's throat and used it to cut the ropes that held Gennadius's hands. Gennadius rubbed his wrists and breathed a sigh of relief.

'Very well,' Notaras said. 'I will watch Giustiniani, and if what you say is true, then I will listen to your plan to kill the sultan. But know that if this is a trick, then you will wish that you had never lived. Now come.'

Notaras rose and strode from the chamber, and Gennadius followed. The dark-skinned man trailed behind Gennadius, staying uncomfortably close. They came to a tight spiral staircase and descended three flights of stairs to a narrow, dimly lit hallway. Notaras led Gennadius to a door halfway down the hall and stopped. He produced a key, unlocked the door and held it open. Gennadius looked inside. It was a small, square cell, the floor covered with straw. Eugenius sat slumped in the corner.

'What is this?' Gennadius asked.

'Your cell,' Notaras replied, and before Gennadius had a chance to protest, the dark-skinned man shoved him from behind and sent him tumbling in. He landed hard on the floor and turned to see the door swing shut behind him. It closed with a clang, and he heard the key turn in the lock. Gennadius scrambled to his feet and rushed to the grill in the door.

'What are you doing?' he cried through the opening. 'You cannot keep me here! I am a man of God!'

'You are alive. Thank God for that,' Notaras replied. 'You will be freed when I know that what you say is true.' With that, he turned and left. Gennadius heard his footsteps retreating down the hallway, and then there was only silence.

'What do we do now?' Eugenius asked.

'Patience, my friend,' Gennadius said. 'Now we wait.' The next night there was no moon, and William could only just make out the ships closest to him as his boat glided over the dark waters of the Horn towards the Turkish fleet. To his left he could see what he thought was Longo's boat, and to the right loomed a Genoese transport, the dim outline of its huge bulk barely visible. The rest of the Christian fleet was lost in the darkness.

'Quiet now, men,' William whispered to his crew. 'Row gently.' They had wrapped their rowlocks in cloth before they left, and now the only sound was the gentle slap of waves against the side of the boat and the quiet dip of the oars in the water as they pulled away from the rest of the Christian boats and headed for their target: two ships at the far edge of the Turkish fleet. Ahead, the distant shore and Turkish ships were impossible to make out in the darkness.

They had nearly reached the far shore, and still Matthias could not see the two ships they had been assigned to burn. 'Where are they? Are we still on course?' he whispered to the man at the tiller. The man nodded. Then, far to their left, a flare went up from the Turkish shore. The men stopped rowing and turned to watch.

'What in Jesus' name is that?' the coxswain called out.

'Quiet,' William hissed. The flare fell slowly, illuminating the other Christian ships, which were grouped together some two hundred yards to port, ready to attack the heart of the Turkish fleet. William spied Longo's boat in the middle of the fleet. Giacomo Coco – the commander of the expedition – had broken clear of the rest of the ships and had almost reached the Turks. He was standing in the prow, urging his longboat forward. As William watched, a Turkish cannon barked out on the far shore, and a second later Coco's head simply disappeared. His body slumped and fell overboard just as the flare burned out, plunging the scene back into darkness.

The Turkish cannons on the far shore erupted, and the scene descended into chaos. By the intermittent flash of the cannons, William watched cannonballs skip across the water and rip through the Christian fleet, splintering hulls and sweeping sailors from their boats. He thought he saw Longo's ship pulling out of the chaos, but then lost it in the darkness. When the cannons flashed again, Longo's boat was gone.

'What should we do?' one of the men called out. 'Should we turn back?'

'No,' William replied. 'We head for the Christian fleet. The men won't last long in water that cold, and if they swim to the Turkish shore they are as good as dead. We will save as many as we can.'

'But sir,' the coxswain protested. 'The cannons will eat us alive.'

'No – listen. The cannons have stopped.' William pointed to the Turkish fleet, which was now pulling towards the Christians to finish them off. 'They won't risk hitting their own men. Now turn the boat around.'

'Aye, sir,' the coxswain said. 'Right back, left forward. Row!' he called. The boat spun around and then surged forward towards the battle. They had not rowed a hundred yards when a tall Turkish ship loomed up out of the darkness ahead of them, blocking their path to the Christian fleet. The ship was crowded with men, but all were at the far rail, attacking one of the Christian ships. They seemed not to have noticed William's small ship.

'All right, men. Let's do what we came for,' William called to his crew. 'Oars in. Not a sound,' he whispered as his boat glided up next to the Turkish ship. Quietly, they hooked on to the side of the vessel, and pulled themselves close. 'Ready the fire,' William whispered, and one of the sailors lit the fuse to a barrel of Greek fire. William let it sputter for a few seconds. 'Unhook the ship,' he whispered finally. Immediately, the Turkish ship began to drift away. 'Now!' William yelled. The men grabbed the small barrel and hurled it up and on to the neighbouring deck, where it rolled to the middle and burst into flames.

'Row! Row!' William yelled as the fire spread over the Turkish ship, engulfing it. They pulled away to safety, and the burning ship, its tiller aflame and useless, veered into another Turkish ship, setting it afire too. The two ships burned brightly. By their light, William saw the Christian fleet in full retreat and Turkish ships racing out to capture any stragglers. Nearer, just past the burning Turkish ships, William saw a dozen men flailing in the water. A Turkish galley was rowing out to finish them off.

'There!' William told the coxswain. 'Row for those men, and pull hard!' They reached the men and pulled them on board just as arrows from the galley started to fall around them. Longo was not amongst the men. William stood in the stern and scanned the water for him. The coxswain pulled William back down.

'Time to leave, sir!' he shouted, pointing to the approaching galley.

'You're right. Pull for home, men!' William ordered. 'And you,' he said to the rescued men, shivering at the bottom of the boat, 'take the oars. It will warm you.'

They pulled away from the slower galley and were halfway back across the Horn when they came across two men, struggling in the water as they swam towards the Christian shore. A minute later, William helped to haul Tristo and Longo into the boat.

'That's two I owe you,' Tristo said through chattering teeth.

They all three looked across to the far shore where the Turkish harbour lay. The Turkish fleet was almost entirely intact, lit by the light of three burning ships. The Christians had lost at least twice as many ships. The attack had been a disaster. 'They were ready for us,' Longo said.

'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.'