Siege

Chapter 16

WEDNESDAY 18 APRIL 1453, CONSTANTINOPLE: DAY 18 OF THE SIEGE

William paced back and forth at the end of the tunnel. He and twelve of Longo's best men had been waiting there for hours, guarding the tunnel while Longo was gone. The other men, veterans all, lounged about playing dice or even napping, but William could not hold still. He was no longer a boy now, but a man of nineteen, old enough to do more than keep watch in this tunnel. He wanted to be out there with Longo. He glanced at the light that filtered in through the rubble that blocked the tunnel's exit. It was growing brighter by the minute. 'It will be dawn soon,' William said to no one in particular.

'Don't worry yourself, William,' a thin, short man named Benito said from where he sat leaning against the wall of the tunnel. 'Longo's a tough nut. He'll be all right.'

William nodded and kept pacing, his eyes on the light shining into the tunnel. Then the light disappeared and Longo's voice called out in greeting from beyond the rubble. A few seconds later his head poked out from the narrow passage. His hair and face were blackened as if he had rubbed soot all over himself.

'What happened to you?' William asked.

Longo clambered out into the tunnel, then rubbed his cheek and examined his now blackened hand. 'Gunpowder,' he said. 'I paid a visit to the Dragon. It won't fire again.'

'And did you learn anything?'

'The Turks are going to attack tonight,' Longo replied. 'We have much to do. Are you ready to destroy the tunnel?'

William shook his head. 'We need Tristo to set the charges, and he's nowhere to be found.'

'I know where to find him,' Longo said. 'Go to Croton's tavern, just south of the Turkish Quarter. It's his home from home in Constantinople. Bring him back quickly. I want this passage destroyed before noon.'

William went to the palace stables and took two horses. He reached Croton's before the sun had climbed above the city walls. The tavern was a two-storey building, garlanded with banners of red silk. William tied up the horses and then stepped over a drunken soldier sleeping in the doorway and into the tavern. Two long tables lined with drunken men dominated the dim interior, but Croton's was clearly more than just a tavern. In the corner to William's right, a crowd had gathered around a trio of tables where men were busy gambling at dice. To his left, men sat on the floor, smoking at hookahs. And everywhere, scantily clad, heavily made-up women milled about, offering their favours to the clientele, for a price.

'You're a young one, aren't you,' said a busty prostitute with long black hair in curls. 'Come for a good time?'

'I'm looking for my friend, Tristo.'

'Oh, that one,' the woman chuckled. 'He's been lucky at dice. He just went upstairs. First door on your left.'

William nodded his thanks. He climbed the stairs and pounded on the locked door. 'Go away! I'm busy!' Tristo bellowed from within.

'Longo needs you at the palace!' William shouted back. 'It's important!'

A moment later, the door opened a crack, and Tristo's face appeared. 'Can it wait five minutes?' he asked. William shook his head. 'Curse it!' Tristo exclaimed and slammed the door closed. When he opened it again a moment later, he was buckling on his sword belt. A plump, naked woman lounged on the bed behind him.

'Sorry, love, duty calls,' Tristo told her. He caught William's disapproving glare and spread his hands. 'What? You can play the saint while our wives are back on Chios, but I don't have it in me. Besides, she reminds me of Maria. That means I'm faithful at heart.' William laughed. Shaking his head, he led the way down the stairs.

He was on the final step when he stopped short. A man had just entered the brothel, and there was something familiar about his darkly tanned face. The man stopped just inside the doorway and returned William's stare. It was Carlos, the Spanish assassin that had tried to kill both Longo and William in Genoa.

'Mother of God, I don't believe it,' William whispered to himself. 'He's alive.' He had no sooner spoken than the assassin turned and ran. 'Come on, Tristo!' William yelled, drawing his sword and running after the Spaniard. 'We've got to catch him!' Tristo followed, running as fast as his bulk would allow. William was beginning to gain on the Spaniard when he turned the corner ahead. William rounded the corner after him and stopped. He found himself standing before a street market. Carts full of goods were set up all along either side of the street, and several dozen women and children milled about in the space between. His quarry had disappeared amidst the crowd.

'What now?' Tristo huffed as he caught up to William.

William caught a glimpse of the Spaniard, dodging through the crowd twenty yards ahead. 'There!' he shouted. 'You take the right, I'll take the left.' They split up, and William pushed his way through the crowd on the left-hand side of the street. He was about halfway through the market when he caught the glimmer of a blade out of the corner of his eye. He ducked and rolled just in time as a sword flashed over his head. William sprang to his feet to see the Spaniard hurrying away into the crowd. 'Tristo! Over here!' William shouted as he gave chase.

Ahead of him, the assassin slipped out of the crowd and turned into a narrow alleyway between two buildings. William followed. After only twenty feet the passage ended at a tall wall, but there was no sign of Carlos. There were no doors, nor even any windows in either of the buildings that formed the sides of the passage. There was no way out at all, yet the Spaniard was gone.

Seconds later, Tristo arrived. 'Where did he go?' he panted.

'I don't know.'

'Who was he?'

'The assassin that Paolo Grimaldi hired to kill Longo and me,' William answered. 'Apparently, he has come to finish the job.'

'Well, lucky for him then that he got away.'

'Lucky for him, and bad for us,' William agreed. 'Now come on. We've wasted enough time already.' Longo was standing on the inner wall at the military gate of Saint Romanus, overseeing the further reinforcement of the Mesoteichion stockade, when he saw William hurrying along the wall towards him. Not ten minutes earlier, Longo had heard the muted rumbling as the charges had gone off, destroying the tunnel beneath the walls. William looked to have come straight from the destruction of the tunnel. He had cleaned his face and hands, but the rest of him was covered in a thick layer of grey stone dust.

'Well met, William,' Longo said. 'The tunnel has been destroyed?'

'Yes,' William replied. 'We brought down the entire stretch from just past the wall to the tunnel's exit.'

'I heard the explosion from up here,' Longo said. 'It caused a great stir in the Turkish camp. Even our own men were unnerved. I heard two Greeks arguing over whether thunder on a clear day was a good or bad omen.'

'And what did they decide?'

Longo smiled. 'I am happy to report that it is a good omen. It means that God is on our side.' A grimace replaced his smile. 'And we shall have need of Him tonight when the Turks attack. It will be all we can do to hold the wall.' Longo glanced up at the sun, estimating the time. 'I must go to the palace to meet with the other commanders.'

'Wait,' William said. 'The Spanish assassin that Paolo sent to kill you lives. Tristo and I saw him while returning to the palace.'

'So much for good omens,' Longo said. 'I thought he was dead.' He looked again at the sun. 'But nothing can be done now. I must get to the palace. William, stay and watch over the men while I am gone. And watch yourself. The assassin is here for you, too.'

When Longo had arrived at the palace he allowed the other commanders to gather in the council room while he explained his plans to the emperor. When all were present, the two men went to the room, pausing at the closed door before entering. Longo gestured for the emperor to be quiet, and they both put their ears to the door. 'But he's a Latin!' they heard an angry voice say. Longo thought it might be Notaras. 'The city should be commanded by a Roman.'

'He knows more about the Turks than the rest of you combined. He fought at Sofia and Kossova, and…'

Another voice, perhaps Archbishop Leonard's, cut him off: 'He knows a bit too much about the Turks, if you ask me. I hear he was raised a janissary. How can we trust him?'

Constantine frowned, looking ready to storm into the room. Longo placed a hand on his shoulder and held him back. 'Let me deal with them,' he said. 'I will report to you after the meeting.' Constantine nodded, and Longo entered the room alone. Notaras was at the head of a large table around which stood Archbishop Leonard, Dalmata, the Venetian bailiff Minotto and a dozen other commanders. The men fell abruptly silent.

'Thank you for coming,' Longo began. 'I know that there are some of you who doubt Constantine's wisdom in appointing me commander. I myself asked him to take charge of the city's defences, but he refused. He has given me the command, and I will not fail him.' He paused, and no one interrupted him. That was a good sign. 'I understand your concerns. I am not a Roman; it is true. But I am Christian, as are you. I will organize the defence, but it is you who must save this city. I cannot do it alone. None of us can. We must fight together, Romans, Venetians, Genoese and even Turks. All who call this city home must defend it as brothers. Are we agreed?'

They all nodded or added their murmured assent. 'Good, then we may begin,' Longo said. 'I have learned that the Turks will attack this very night, as soon as darkness falls.'

'Are you certain?' Notaras asked. 'I have heard nothing of this.'

'I assure you, my information is reliable,' Longo told him. He was reluctant to reveal how he knew of the Turks' plans. The tunnel had been destroyed, but there might be others. The fewer who knew about them, the better.

'What if this information is a ruse?' Notaras insisted.

'A night keeping watch will do our men no harm,' Longo replied. 'The Turks are counting on the element of surprise to overwhelm us. We must be ready for them.' The megadux nodded his head in consent, and Longo continued. 'We will place the majority of our forces along the land walls, keeping only enough men on the sea walls to call for help in the event of trouble. Archbishop Leonard, you will join the Langasco brothers in defending the walls where they run down into the Golden Horn. Minotto, you will defend the Imperial Palace and the Blachernae walls.'

'He spends enough time there, anyway. He's more interested in courting the palace ladies than fighting, if you ask me,' sniggered one of the Bocchiardo brothers, Troilo. He and his brothers, Paolo and Antonio, had arrived from Genoa several weeks before Longo. Longo had known and respected them for years, but he did not appreciate the interruption. He gave Troilo a cold stare.

Minotto ignored Troilo. 'I will be happy to take the post,' he said.

'Good,' Longo said. 'Bocchiardo brothers, you and your men will take up positions south of Minotto, where the Blachernae and Theodosian walls meet. You will share command of the Blachernae with Minotto.'

'With that Venetian prig?' Troilo objected. 'My men won't fight alongside Venetians!'

'I will have your hide for that,' Minotto said, his hand moving to his sword. 'I demand satisfaction!'

'Silence!' Longo shouted. He drew his sword and laid it on the table. 'I will not have bickering amongst you,' he said, his voice quiet and hard. 'We are here to fight the Turks, not one another. If any of you seek satisfaction, then I will offer it to you myself. Is that understood?' Troilo nodded. 'Minotto?' After a pause, the Venetian nodded.

'Good,' Longo continued. 'Theophilus Palaelogus will command the wall south of the Lycus river to the Pegae Gate. Filippo Contarini and his Venetians will defend the walls from the Pegae Gate to the Golden Gate, which Manuel and his men have volunteered to defend. The Protostrator, Demetrius Cantacuzenus, will defend the southernmost portion of the wall. The Venetians will have command of the fleet and the Golden Horn. The sea walls will be manned by Greek monks and any remaining forces in the city.' Longo was pleased to see each of the commanders nod as he spoke his name. None questioned their assignments. 'My men and I will be stationed south of the Bocchiardo brothers, with the emperor at the Mesoteichion. Prince Orhan and the Turkish troops will join us there.'

'But they are infidels,' Archbishop Leonard protested. 'You cannot use Turks to defend our most vulnerable point. They will betray us to the enemy.' Several other men at the table nodded agreement. Orhan, a Turkish prince who had taken shelter in Constantinople to avoid death at the hands of Mehmed, opened his mouth to speak, but Longo gestured for him to remain silent.

'There are Christians, even Greeks, fighting in the Turkish army. I see no reason why Turks should not fight in ours,' Longo said. 'Constantinople is their home, too, and Orhan's men are some of our strongest fighters. We need their help on the walls.'

'Does the Union mean nothing then?' Leonard asked. 'The pope would never stand for this.'

'The pope is not here, nor are his men. In their absence, we need all the help we can get,' Notaras said firmly. Longo was surprised by Notaras's support. The megadux turned to Longo. 'And what of my post?'

'You will command a reserve force, stationed where the Blachernae wall meets the Theodosian walls. You will offer support wherever there is trouble.'

'My place is on the walls, not cowering behind them,' Notaras said.

'Do not mistake me, Notaras,' Longo said. 'Your post will see no lack of danger. You will be free to seek out battle wherever it offers itself, and you will always find yourself at the centre of the worst fighting. I have offered you this post because I know of your courage and skill as a warrior.'

'If the post is so glorious, then perhaps you should take it.'

'I would be happy to, Megadux, but there is another consideration. I understand that you possess a number of mobile cannons. They will prove vital in turning back the Turks if the wall is breached. I did not think that you would wish for someone else to command your artillery, but if you are willing, then I will gladly take command of the reserve force.'

'No, that will not be necessary,' Notaras said. 'But understand that only I will decide when and how my men and cannons are deployed. I will fight beside you, Signor Giustiniani, but I will not fight under you.'

'So long as you fight, Megadux, I ask for nothing more.' Longo looked around the table, pausing at each of the men in turn. 'I do not ask any of you to fight for me. If you seek a man to fight for, then fight for the emperor.' Longo's gazed settled at last on Notaras. 'And if you do not wish to fight for any man,' Longo concluded, 'then fight for Constantinople.'

'Hear, hear,' Minotto agreed, and one by one, each of the men added their assent. All eyes turned to Notaras, who alone of the men had remained aloof.

'For Constantinople,' he said and nodded his head curtly.

'Very well, then,' Longo said. 'Have your men at the walls well before sunset. Until the fighting starts, keep them busy repairing the walls, making arrows or building mantelets. When the attack comes, we will regret every second wasted. Are there any questions?' No one spoke. 'Good. Then take your posts, and may God protect you all.' Longo, William and Tristo stood atop the stockade, their battle armour glinting in the torchlight. The sun had long since set and the last colour faded from the sky, swallowed up by inky darkness. Longo watched the Turkish camp for signs of the impending attack, but saw nothing unusual. Cooking fires glimmered in the distance, and the cannons continued to roar.

Longo heard a commotion behind him and turned to see the emperor approaching, dressed in heavy plate armour. 'Greetings, Signor Giustiniani,' Constantine said. He pointed to the distant Turkish camp. 'All looks calm. Perhaps there will be no attack.'

'I hope that you are right,' Longo said. He looked at the numerous holes blasted in the stockade during the day's bombardment and then at the men grouped behind the barrier. Even with Prince Orhan's troops and most of Constantine's personal guard, Longo had less than three thousand men to defend the entire Mesoteichion against at least ten times as many Turks. 'If there is a battle,' he said. 'Then we shall be hard pressed.'

'God will protect us. He will not let the Empire of the Romans fall,' Constantine said. 'I must inspect the other troops. God be with you, Signor Giustiniani.'

The Turkish bombardment stopped soon after the emperor had departed. As the boom of the last gun faded, silence settled over the walls for the first time in weeks. Men rushed forward to place mantelets — portable wooden barriers — across the openings that the cannons had made. Atop the stockade, Longo peered into the darkness. He saw nothing, but the cannons would be quiet for only one reason. 'They're coming,' he said to William and Tristo. 'Go to your posts.' Longo drew his sword and held it aloft. Behind him, he heard the rasp of hundreds of swords being drawn. 'Ready, men!' he shouted.

From the north and south, Longo could now hear the dull roar of fighting elsewhere along the walls, but still he saw nothing in the darkness before him. Then a flare lit the sky over the stockade, then another and another. Beneath their red glare an onrushing horde of janissaries was visible only a hundred yards away, swarming across the fosse and towards the stockade. Ten thousand strong, they let loose a blood-curdling mass scream as the light hit them, and their cry of Allah! Allah! Allah! was soon joined by the heavy beat of drums and the eerie wail of bagpipes. It seemed to Longo as if the mouth of hell had opened up before him, and the Turks, lit red by the flares, were screaming demons.

As the Turks scrambled up the far side of the fosse, an arrow thumped into the stockade before Longo. Another slammed into the chest of the soldier beside him, and he dropped, screaming in pain. 'Down, men!' Longo yelled as he crouched behind the stockade, his shield raised over his head. The compact bows of the janissary, made of wood, horn and tendon, could fire arrows with enough velocity to punch through even plate armour. Arrows continued to thud into the stockade and skitter off Longo's shield, and then they stopped. The first Turks had reached the wall. 'Up men!' Longo roared. 'For Constantinople! God is with us!'

Turks placed ladders against the stockade in front of Longo and began to swarm up them, while others threw grappling hooks over the wall and tried to pull down the wooden face of the stockade. Longo moved about the wall, kicking over ladders and cutting the ropes from the grappling hooks. Although the Turks greatly outnumbered them, the defenders were holding up well. Here and there Turks managed to reach the top of the wall, but they were quickly dispatched. The real fighting was taking place in the gaps that had been blasted in the stockade. The janissaries' greater numbers were of no help in the narrow gaps, where the thicker armour of the Christian forces gave them a decided advantage. The fighting was furious, but all down the line the stockade appeared to be holding. Still, for every janissary that was killed there were five more to take his place, and the fury of the attack did not slacken. As the moon crawled across the sky, the Turkish dead piled up before the stockade, until the janissaries could reach the top by climbing upon their fallen comrades.

Longo spotted several janissaries with torches making their way across the fosse, and soon a small portion of the stockade before him was in flames. He had anticipated such an attempt, and his men were prepared. The wall had been wetted earlier that night, and now men rushed forward with buckets of water to douse the few flames that did spread. Further down, however, flames had caught and were spreading. Longo could see Tristo atop the stockade, his huge bulk silhouetted by the fire as he beat at the flames with a wet blanket. Then the portion of the stockade on which he was standing collapsed outward, and Tristo disappeared. When Tristo came to, he found himself half buried beneath bags of earth and smouldering timbers. He looked about him, quickly taking stock. The stockade where he had been standing had collapsed outward, opening up a gap some thirty feet wide. All around him janissaries were scrambling over the wreckage. The only Christian soldiers that he could see were unconscious or dead, buried around him in the ruins. Tristo tried to rise, but he was pinned beneath a log. He pushed against the log with all his might. It shifted slightly, but not enough to free him. Nearby, a janissary noticed his efforts and began to climb over the wreckage towards him. Tristo's sword was nowhere in sight. He turned his attention back to the log, but it would not budge. He glanced back. The Turk was almost upon him.

Desperate, Tristo picked up a three-foot piece of wood — a fragment from the collapsed stockade — and swung it at the janissary's legs. The janissary jumped the blow, then kicked the piece of wood out of Tristo's hand. 'Come on then, bastard! Get it over with!' Tristo growled at him. The janissary raised his curved yatagan high, but he never completed the blow. He dropped his sword and slumped to his knees, a blade protruding from his chest. William stepped out from behind the fallen Turk.

'What took you so long?' Tristo grumbled.

'Is that any way to thank me for saving your life?' William asked as he pushed bags of dirt off the log that was pinning Tristo.

'I had the situation under control,' Tristo replied. He pushed on the log — now much lighter with the bags of earth removed — and it rolled off of him. Tristo rose, clutching his chest where the log had pinned him.

'Are you well? Can you fight?' William asked as he handed Tristo a sword.

'I'm fine,' Tristo growled. 'Come on, let's get out of here.' Longo stood in the middle of the wide gap in the stockade, his face set in a snarl as he fought furiously. He had watched Tristo disappear amidst the burning ruins of the stockade and was now filled with a cold fury. He ruthlessly dispatched any Turk unfortunate enough to face him. As he confronted yet another janissary, he sidestepped a spear thrust, chopped the shaft of the spear in two, spun and impaled his attacker, all in one smooth motion. As soon as the janissary fell, another stepped forward to take his place. Despite Longo's furious efforts, he and his men were giving ground. The thin line of Christian soldiers that had filled the broad gap could not defend it indefinitely against the greater Turkish numbers, and if the Turks managed to push through and get inside the stockade, then the outer wall would be lost. After that, it would only be a matter of time before the city fell.

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 orta 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 divan 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 orta after orta 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.