Siege

Chapter 23

TUESDAY 29 MAY 1453, CONSTANTINOPLE: DAY 59 OF THE SIEGE

Sunrise was still more than three hours off when Longo mounted the outer wall of the Mesoteichion. There was no moon and the night was dark. Torches illuminated the wall at regular intervals, revealing hundreds of armoured men. Some knelt in prayer, while others sharpened their swords or spoke quietly to friends, exchanging messages to give to their loved ones in case they were killed in the coming battle. Dozens of unarmoured men were busy carrying rocks up to the wall to be used as shot by the cannons. Longo recognized Nicolo, his steward, amongst them.

'Nicolo!' he called. Nicolo turned and dropped the heavy stone that he had been carrying. Longo had hardly seen Nicolo since the siege began, but the rotund steward had not changed. In fact, despite the shortage of provisions in the city, Nicolo seemed to have put on weight. 'Where have you been?'

'Serving you, of course, signor. After all, somebody has to look out for your business interests while you're off fighting.'

'My business interests?'

'There's always money to be made in a war, signor,' Nicolo replied. 'There are several grain merchants…'

Longo held up a hand, stopping him. 'I don't want to know. I'm just glad to see that you've finally made yourself useful.'

'Hmph. They forced me into it.' Nicolo pointed to where William and Tristo stood further along the wall.

'Well, keep at it,' Longo told him. 'And once the fighting starts, get back to la Fortuna and make her ready to sail. This battle is no place for you, Nicolo.'

'I could not agree more, signor,' Nicolo replied, but Longo was already past him, heading for Tristo and William. Tristo, as huge and lively as ever, was talking to one of the gun crews. His giant sword was sheathed in a scabbard across his back and he carried an enormous battle-axe in his hands. William stood beside Tristo, shouting orders down to the men between the walls, telling them where to place the mantelets — portable wooden barriers. William had grown from the awkward, scrawny runaway that Longo had first met five years ago into a lean, muscular man and a confident leader.

'What news, William?' Longo asked. 'How are the men?'

'They are in good spirits. I've put most of them on the wall with spears to hold off attackers. As you ordered, I'm keeping a hundred men in reserve to act as archers and to plug any gaps that open.'

'And the cannons, Tristo?' Longo asked.

'The cannons are ready and charged, but we'll have to use them wisely,' Tristo replied. 'We have collected plenty of stone for shot, but our supply of powder is low. We have enough for maybe thirty rounds, more if we half-charge the cannons once the Turks get in close.'

'Make it so,' Longo said. 'And don't let the men fire until the Turks are at the walls.' Longo turned to look out in the direction from which the Turks would come. The plain was dark and empty. Where the thousands of lights of the Turkish camp should have been, there was nothing — only a few flickering torches here and there. 'Where are they?'

'The lookouts saw them forming ranks, and then the lights in the Turkish camp went out. That is when we rang the bells,' William said. 'They're coming. Just wait.'

'You have done well, William,' Longo told him. 'But now I have something else to ask of you. I fear you will not like it.'

'Whatever it is, I will do it.'

'I ask you to leave the walls. Go to Princess Sofia and protect her.'

'But my place is here!' William protested. 'I owe it to my uncle and my friends to avenge their deaths.'

'There is more to life than revenge, William. How many Turks have you already killed? Twenty? Thirty? Believe me, no matter how many you kill, your anger will not fade. Your revenge will never be complete.' Longo grasped William by the shoulders. 'You have a wife. Think of her. We must all protect that which we hold most dear. I am asking you as a friend to protect Sofia for me.'

William looked away, his jaw tight. Finally, he nodded. 'Very well.'

'Thank you,' Longo said. 'If the bells ring to signal the retreat, take her aboard la Fortuna and sail for Pera.' William nodded again. 'Good luck, William. May God be with you.' The two men embraced.

'And with you,' William replied.

'Keep yourself alive,' Tristo told him, engulfing William in a hug. 'I still have money to win back from you at dice.'

'Not if I can help it,' William replied with a grin. Tristo and Longo watched him descend from the ramparts and pass through the gate of the inner wall. A moment later, the emperor emerged through the same gate. He was followed by Dalmata and the Varangian guard. Men in the courtyard between the two walls knelt, and Constantine strode past them to cries of 'Hail Constantine!' and 'Long live the Emperor!' Longo went to meet him on the causeway leading to the top of the outer wall.

'Greetings, Emperor. Have you come to inspect the troops?'

'No, signor, I have come to fight.'

'You would be safer elsewhere. The Turks will focus their attack on this point.'

'That is why I am here,' Constantine said firmly. 'If we can hold the Mesoteichion, then we can save Constantinople.'

'But if you die, then all will be lost. It is too great a risk.'

'We must risk everything, even my life, if we wish to win this battle,' Constantine replied. 'Are the men all here?'

'Yes. Save for one or two stragglers.'

'Good. Then close the gates of the inner wall.'

'But My Lord, with the gates closed, how will we retreat?' Dalmata asked.

'There will be no retreat. Close the gates.' Mehmed stood on the Turkish ramparts and looked out across the plain to where the torchlit walls of Constantinople loomed out of the darkness. Tonight, for the first time in a thousand years, those walls would fall. Tonight he, Mehmed, would fulfil his destiny. Mehmed thought back to nine years ago, when he had been driven from the throne and sent to rot in Manisa. The generals had laughed at him then, calling him 'Mehmed the Scholar'. After tonight, nobody would ever laugh again.

He turned to face the generals who were gathered around him under the light of a single torch. 'Are the men in position?' he asked Ulu.

'Yes, My Lord.'

'Then give the signal for the cannons to fire. After they have done their work, then you may send in your bazibozouks, Mahmud Pasha.'

Mahmud Pasha bowed. 'Thank you, My Lord, for the honour of the first attack.'

'And what of the Anatolian cavalry?' Ishak Pasha asked. 'My men have not waited these two months only to watch the bazibozouks steal their glory.'

'Patience, Ishak,' Mehmed replied. 'There will be glory enough for all today. I have something special in mind for you and your men.' The soldiers around Longo had fallen silent as they waited nervously for the Turkish attack to begin, so silent that Longo could hear the hiss of the slow match burning next to the nearby cannons. The quiet was shattered by the roar of Turkish cannons. They fired all together, dozens of tongues of flame piercing the darkness along the Turkish ramparts. 'Take shelter!' Longo yelled as he ducked behind the low stone barrier that fronted the outer wall. A second later, he felt the wall tremble beneath him as several cannonballs slammed into it. Twenty feet to his right, a section of wall some ten feet wide shook and then collapsed outward in a pile of dirt and rubble, taking a cannon with it.

'Bring forth the mantelets!' Longo yelled to the men who stood in reserve behind the wall. 'Fill that gap!' Men took up two of the mobile wooden walls and moved them into place. The mantelets were hardly in place, however, before another cannonball hit one of them dead on. It exploded in a shower of splinters, leaving several men down and screaming in pain. More men rushed forward to drag them to safety, while another mantelet was brought forward.

'We can't take much more of this!' Tristo shouted over the boom of the cannons.

'You're right,' Longo agreed. 'Take all of the men off the wall save for the cannon crews. Have them take shelter at the base of the wall.' Tristo nodded and hurried away. Within a few minutes the top of the wall around Longo was empty. He sat alone, huddled behind the low stone barrier while the wall shook beneath him. Finally, the Turkish cannons fell silent.

Longo stood immediately and peered out into the darkness. He saw nothing, but as his ears recovered from the sound of the bombardment, he heard the rumble of thousands of marching feet. 'Back to the wall!' he shouted to the men below him. 'Here they come!' He had no sooner spoken than a wave of noise burst forth from the darkness: the ululating scream of 'Allah! Allah! Allah!' mixed with the sound of drums and wailing bagpipes. The noise grew louder and louder, yet still Longo saw nothing. A nervous cannoneer down the line touched off his cannon, sending shot flying into the darkness. 'Hold your fire, damn it!' Tristo roared. 'Wait until they're in range!'

The sound of the onrushing Turks grew deafening. Finally, a solid wave of Turks emerged from the darkness, only some forty yards from the walls. They ran in no formation and wore a hotchpotch of old armour. Some carried swords and spears, while others were armed with scythes or pitchforks. Longo recognized them as the bazibozouks, untrained peasants who formed the bulk of the Turkish army. What they lacked in training, they made up for in fanatical bravery. There were thousands of them.

'Archers!' Longo turned and shouted. 'Now!' From behind him, he heard the twang of hundreds of bows and the hiss of the arrows as they flew overhead. Bazibozouks began to fall by the dozens. Longo saw an arrow fly clean through the chest of one Turk and lodge in the groin of the man behind. He saw a huge mountain of a man whose bellowing war cry was cut short by an arrow through his throat. The screaming howl of the bazibozouks was now peppered with the anguished cry of men in pain, but the Turkish charge did not falter. They were close enough now that Longo could see individual faces: a white-haired, wild-eyed man, his face disfigured by countless battle scars; a bare-chested farmer waving his pitchfork, an arrow protruding from his shoulder; a child no older than twelve, lugging a sword he could hardly carry. The first bazibozouks had reached the wall and were pressing against the mantelets that filled the gaps. Christians from atop the wall on either side of the gaps stabbed down with spears, and a pile of dead began to mount before the mantelets.

The main wave of attackers reached the wall where Longo stood and began to raise ladders. Longo shoved one of the ladders back, and the Turks climbing it fell backwards and were crushed under the press of their comrades. Longo glanced down the wall to either side. Everywhere the walls were crawling with Turks. 'The cannons!' he yelled. 'Fire!'

All along the top of the wall the Christian cannons fired, spraying chunks of stone directly into the mass of Turks before them. The carnage was both exhilarating and appalling. Stones blasted through shields and ripped through armour as if it were cloth. Longo saw a Turk's sword broken in half by a fist-sized rock, just before another stone took his head clean off. The space before the walls was transformed into a hellish scene of mangled bodies thrashing on the blood-soaked ground. The Turkish charge slowed as the bazibozouks closest to the walls turned and tried to retreat, but the press of their comrades behind them pushed them forward into the teeth of the cannons. Wave after wave of bazibozouks continued to surge towards the walls, struggling over the bodies of their fallen comrades, only to be cut down in turn. Finally, after an hour of slaughter, the Turkish attack began to falter. Longo struck down a Turk who had managed to mount the wall, pushed over a last ladder and paused. There were no more ladders to topple, no more Turks to fight. The last of the bazibozouks were in full retreat, leaving the field behind them littered with the bloody bodies of thousands of their comrades. The Christian troops cheered. Longo saw Constantine approaching along the top of the wall.

'We did it!' Constantine shouted. 'They're retreating!'

'That was only the first wave, to test the walls,' Longo replied. 'They'll be back.' He turned to Tristo, who stood a few feet away, wiping blood from his axe. 'How many men have we lost?'

'Less than fifty,' Tristo replied.

'So few!' Constantine rejoiced. 'And look, they've lost thousands.'

'Aye,' Tristo grunted. 'But that's only the half of it. We're out of powder. There'll be no more cannons to hold them off.' As if to emphasize his point, there was a tremendous boom as one of the Turkish cannons fired. The wall shook as the cannonball slammed into it. The Turkish bombardment had started again. Gennadius had ordered Eugenius to the walls when the bells rang to signal the impending Turkish attack. Now, dressed in chainmail, Eugenius marched through the city, followed by a dozen hired thieves, similarly dressed. He stopped before a tall, round tower that sat where the double wall met the single Blachernae wall. Inside the tower, Eugenius knew, was the Kerkoporta — a small sally port that led outside the wall.

Eugenius entered to find the ground floor of the tower empty and dark. There were no other doors, nor any windows. On one side of the tower a staircase curved up to the floor above. On the other side, another staircase ran down into the floor. 'Follow me,' he said, leading the way down.

The lower level was crowded with a dozen soldiers. They were grouped around a thick, wooden door that was studded with iron supports — the Kerkoporta. Three huge beams of wood lay across it, barring it against attack, and a tall, well-muscled man stood leaning against it. All the soldiers were Greeks, which was a good thing. They would be easier to handle than the Latins.

'Who is in command here?' Eugenius asked.

'I am,' the man leaning against the door answered.

'Your men are needed at the Mesoteichion,' Eugenius told him.

'We were told by the emperor himself to stay here and guard the Kerkoporta.'

'My men and I have been sent to hold the door,' Eugenius responded. 'We were manning the cannons but ran out of powder. We are not well armoured and are of no use at the Mesoteichion. They need brave men in strong armour.'

The Greek leader looked sceptically at the unsavoury lot with Eugenius, but finally he nodded. 'Very well,' he said. 'We will go where we are needed. Guard the door well, and if there is trouble, send for help. Whatever you do, do not let the Turks inside the walls.'

'We will fight to the death,' Eugenius told him. The Greek captain led his men up the stairs and when the last of them had left, Eugenius turned to the thieves. 'Help me unbar the door.'

'But the captain said to let no one through,' a thin thief with a pock-marked face replied.

'You are not being paid to think,' Eugenius snapped. 'If you want the money I promised you, then you will do as you are told.' The thieves nodded and set to work, helping Eugenius slide the heavy wooden beams that barred the door from their supports. Then Eugenius unbolted the door and pulled it open. In the dim twilight he saw the wall stretching before him down towards the sea. Turkish dead and wounded littered the ground. The fighting appeared to have momentarily stopped, but Eugenius could hear the loud roar of Turkish cannons. He closed the door but did not bolt it.

'It is time to go,' he told the thieves. 'To the cistern, where you will be paid.'

'But we can't leave the door unbarred,' the pock-marked thief said. The others nodded their agreement.

'You will do as you are told,' Eugenius ordered.

'I will not betray my emperor or my city,' the pock-marked thief said defiantly.

'Very well,' Eugenius replied. In a blur of motion, he drew his sword and slashed through the pock-marked thief's throat before the unfortunate man's weapon was halfway out of its scabbard. The thief dropped to the ground, gasping and twitching as his blood pooled on the stone floor. The other thieves drew their weapons. 'If you fight me, then he will not be the last of you to die,' Eugenius told them. 'And what will the emperor give you for your heroism? Nothing. But if you do as I say, then you will be both alive and well paid. Which will it be?'

The thieves looked one to another, then one by one sheathed their daggers and swords. 'You have chosen wisely,' Eugenius told them. 'Now come. Let us go and see that you receive your reward.' The sun had yet to rise, but the sky had lightened enough so that Longo could just see the Turkish cannons on the distant ramparts. The cannons had been firing without pause for half an hour, and the wall trembled beneath him with every cannonball that struck it. Longo turned and watched the men below. They were placing mantelets in a long line, using the mobile wooden barriers to create a third wall in the space between the inner and outer walls. 'Move those mantelets closer together!' Longo ordered.

Tristo approached along the wall. 'The lancers are ready. If the cavalry breaks through, then they know what to do.'

Longo nodded. 'And the emperor? He is safe?'

'As safe as can be. He's behind the wall of mantelets, along with Dalmata and the Varangian guard.'

'Good.' Longo turned to shout more orders to his men when he felt the ground beneath his feet shift violently. He and Tristo just had time to leap off the wall before it collapsed, spilling earth, stones and wooden supports outwards towards the Turkish cannons.

Longo landed on his stomach and rolled over. As the dust settled around him, he could see that a section of the wall some twenty yards wide had collapsed. Through the gap he caught sight of the Anatolian cavalry, who had poured out from behind the Turkish lines and were charging hard for the break in the Christian defences. They would be on him in seconds. He felt himself grabbed by the shoulders and hauled to his feet. He turned to find Tristo standing beside him. 'Come on! Run!'

They turned and sprinted for the line of mantelets. Behind him, Longo could hear the rumble of hooves coming closer. As Longo and Tristo ran, a line of Christian lancers stepped out in front of the mantelets and braced the butts of their long spears against the ground, creating a wall of spears. Longo ran hard for the line of lancers. The thunder of hooves was deafening, and he could almost feel the point of a Turkish spear in his back. And then he was through the Christian line to safety.

A second later, the charging Turkish cavalry reached the wall of spears. The better riders managed to turn their horses aside. Others were thrown as their horses stopped short before the spears and reared up in protest. Still others fell victim to the lancers. Within seconds the Turkish charge had been reduced to a chaos of frightened, riderless horses and trampled men. A cheer went up from the Christian lines.

'Steady men!' Longo yelled. 'They'll be back!' Sure enough, the Anatolian cavalry quickly regrouped as more and more horsemen flooded into the space between the walls. They advanced more slowly this time, firing arrows as they approached. More and more lancers fell under the rain of arrows, and the Anatolians surged into the gaps. 'Behind the mantelets!' Longo yelled. 'Retreat! Retreat!'

The lancers fell back through the spaces between the mantelets and the Turkish cavalry surged forward. 'Now!' Longo yelled. 'Light them!' He himself took a torch and touched it to the nearest mantelet, which burst instantly into flames. All of the mantelets had been covered with Greek fire, and now as they were lit one after another, they formed a semicircular wall of towering flames. Faced with the wall of fire, the Turkish horses panicked. Riders were thrown as their horses backed and reared, refusing to approach the inferno. The Anatolian ranks were thrown into chaos.

'Now, men!' Longo yelled. 'Charge!' Longo led the Christians out from behind the flaming mantelets and into the mass of struggling horsemen. He pulled the first Turk he came to from his saddle, finished him, and then mounted the horse. He rode into the confused crowd of Turks, striking out to either side. Behind him, the lancers were progressing through the Turkish ranks, spearing Turk after Turk off their frightened horses. The Turks gave ground, slowly at first and then faster until they were in full retreat. The Christians surged after them, pushing the Anatolians out past the gap in the walls.

Longo reigned in his horse in the gap. Before him, the Anatolian cavalry were retreating across the plain, lit by the rays of the rising sun. 'Halt, men!' Longo yelled to the Christian forces around him. 'Let them run! Prepare to hold the gap against the next attack!'

'Well done, signor!' Constantine said as he rode up beside Longo. 'The sun rises and the city still stands. They have failed again. This day will be a glorious one in our history.'

Longo shook his head. 'Something is not right. They attacked with small numbers and retreated too easily. It is almost as if they expected the cavalry to fail, as if they were only trying to distract us.' While the bulk of his men were busy attacking the Mesoteichion, Ishak Pasha led a select group of three hundred Anatolian cavalry further north. As he galloped towards the Kerkoporta, grapefruit-sized stones joined the arrows that were raining down from the wall ahead. One struck the rider to his right, crushing his skull and killing him instantly. Ishak spurred his horse on, pushing it towards the narrow crevice where the sea wall ran behind the last great tower of the double wall. The Kerkoporta was still not visible, and Ishak was beginning to think that he had been sent on a fool's errand. Then he saw the door, set into the wall of the tower, far back in the narrow space.

Ishak dismounted and hurried forward, rocks falling all around him. He put his shoulder into the door and pushed hard. The door swung open, and Ishak found himself in an empty room, lit by a single torch. A staircase ran up the far wall. 'Come on!' he called to his men, who were filing in behind him. 'Follow me!'

Ishak hurried up the stairs to another empty room and then out into the city. To his left stood the palace of the Christian emperor. Before him, a maze of empty streets wound their way further into the city. Ishak took a moment to get his bearings. 'This way, towards the Mesoteichion!' he ordered and began jogging along the wall to the right. Most of his men followed, but two dozen broke off, heading for the palace.

'Stop! What are you doing?' Ishak yelled after them.

'You fight. We're going to get rich!' one of the men called back. The rest simply ignored Ishak.

'Should we go after them?' one of Ishak's lieutenants asked.

'No, let them go. We are needed elsewhere.' Sofia stood at the window of her apartments while William sat nearby, fidgeting with a dagger. The window looked out on to the city, away from the walls, but standing there, Sofia could hear the sound of the distant battle. The cannons had stopped some time ago, and now she heard only a dull roar, marked by the occasional shout that carried to her room. Eventually, these noises gave way to a rhythmic pounding — the sound of thousands of men marching. The sounds told her little of what was happening, but as long as the bells near the walls did not ring, she knew that the walls held and the Christian soldiers fought on. But the bells could not tell her if Longo was alive.

Suddenly there was silence outside the window. Sofia strained to hear, but there was nothing. Then, from behind her, in the hallway outside her quarters, she heard shouting in Turkish, followed by a woman's terrified scream. 'What was that?' William asked.

'Turks!' Sofia gasped. 'They are in the palace.'

'Then the walls must have fallen,' William responded. 'We must get to the ship.'

'Wait. The bells have not rung to sound the retreat. This is something else. If the Turks are inside the city, then Longo must be warned. We must…' She was interrupted by a pounding on the door to her apartments. William and Sofia backed away into Sofia's bedroom as the door to her sitting room shook under heavy blows. Then the wood around the lock splintered, and the door swung open. Six Turkish soldiers stood in the doorway.

'What have we here?' their leader leered when he saw Sofia. 'It's been too long since I've had a woman, especially one so tasty.' The other Turks grinned in agreement as they stepped into the sitting room.

William drew his sword and stood in the doorway to the bedroom. 'Come and get her, you bastards,' he growled.

'No, there is another way,' Sofia said, pulling William away. 'Follow me.' As the Turks surged towards the bedroom, Sofia rushed William across the room to the secret passage and pushed the door open. They entered the tunnel, and Sofia slammed the door shut. Almost immediately there was a pounding on the hidden door. 'We must hurry,' Sofia said.

They had no light, so she took William's hand and led him down the dark passage. Behind them, the secret door was smashed open. Light flooded the tunnel, followed by the Turks. 'Run!' William yelled. They sprinted down the tunnel. Sofia took them into a side passage and down a spiral staircase. By the time they reached the bottom, the tunnel was again pitch black. Above them, Sofia could hear the Turks coming after them. She led William to the left and then turned right down a long corridor. They came to a door, and Sofia fumbled for the handle in the darkness. Finally she pushed the door open and they stepped out into the morning light. Looking back, Sofia saw that the Turks had just entered the tunnel behind them. She slammed the door closed.

'Quick. Over here,' William called and headed across the street to the nearest house. He kicked the door open and they entered, slamming the door shut behind them. Sofia went to the window and peered out through the closed shutters. Across the street, the Turks poured out of the secret passage. After a brief discussion, they moved off at a run, heading for the front of the palace.

'We're safe,' Sofia said. 'They've gone.'

'Come, we must get to the ship,' William urged.

'No, we must warn Longo that the Turks are in the city. Our men cannot hold the wall if they are forced to fight on two fronts.'

William shook his head. 'There is nothing that we can do, Princess. If the Turks are in the city, then it is too late to warn Longo.'

'But we must try.'

'The Turks could return at any moment,' William insisted. 'And I told Longo that I would protect you.'

'I am not some weak girl that you need protect!' Sofia said, her eyes flashing. 'I am a princess, and you had best do as I say. Go, William. Warn Longo. I will be safe enough until you return.'

'Very well.' William opened the door but paused before leaving. 'I will return soon. Wait here.' Sofia nodded, and William left. She closed the door after him, shoved a heavy oak table in front of it, and sat down to wait. Longo stood in the gap where the outer wall had collapsed. In the golden morning light, he could see thousands of black-armoured janissaries marching towards the walls in tightly grouped battalions. He turned and looked along the line of Christian soldiers who stood filling the twenty-yard-wide gap in the wall. In the centre stood Constantine and Dalmata, surrounded by the Varangian guard. The men to either side of them were a mixture of Greeks, Italians and Turks who lived in Constantinople and who fought to defend their city. They had all proven themselves in battle today, but still, their numbers were few. The other commanders of Constantinople were hard pressed and had only been able to spare a few men to reinforce the Mesoteichion. The ranks of men filling the gap could not have been more than ten deep, and they would have to hold the gap against a force of thousands.

Longo stepped out from the line and addressed the men. 'Stand strong, men!' he shouted. 'This attack will be the Turks' last. We no longer have a wall to fight from. But if we fight as one, then we can defeat them. We have but to hold this gap, and the day will be ours. Are you ready to fight?' The men roared. 'Fight, then, for Constantinople!'

'For Constantinople!' the men roared back. 'For Constantinople!' Then, in the midst of the Turkish ranks, a horn sounded, and the janissaries rushed forward with a deafening roar that drowned out the Christians' cheers.

'Stand firm, men!' Longo yelled, readying his sword and shield. 'Good luck,' he said more quietly to Tristo, who stood to his right. 'I am sorry that I got you into this.'

Tristo hefted his giant battle-axe. 'There's no place I'd rather be,' he grinned. Then, his smile faded. 'I've chosen a name for my child: Benito. If I fall, look after him for me.'

'I will,' Longo said.

A second later, the charging janissaries stopped short twenty yards from the Christian line and raised their bows. 'Shields up, men!' Longo yelled as the janissaries released a volley of arrows and crossbow bolts. An arrow embedded itself in Longo's shield and another skittered off the back of his armour. The man to his left fell screaming as a crossbow bolt struck him in the high. Then the hail of arrows ended, and with a roar, the janissaries resumed their charge. They slammed into the Christian line, driving it backwards. Longo got in a few good blows before the press of Turks became so great that his sword was useless. He was sandwiched between Tristo to his right and another Christian to his left, and crushed between two janissaries in front and two Christians behind him. The battle had become a shoving match, and for now, the Turks were winning, their numbers and momentum pushing the Christians backwards.

'Push men!' Longo yelled. 'Don't give ground! If they breach the gap then we are lost!' The two Christians behind Longo put their shields into his back and pushed hard, shoving him forward. All along the line the Christians dug in. Their armour, made of solid steel plates, protected them against the press of men, while the Turks in their lighter leather and chain armour were being slowly crushed to death in the crowd. As the leading janissaries ceased pushing, the Turkish advance ground to a halt. All along the gap the tightly packed Christians shoved against the crowd of janissaries, with neither side giving an inch. More and more janissaries poured into the attack, but the Christians held firm. 'Keep pushing, men!' Longo yelled. 'We're holding them!'

Then, there was a sudden commotion in the ranks behind Longo. 'The gates are opening!' someone shouted. 'Reinforcements! Reinforcements have come!' another cried. Soon, the entire Christian line had erupted into cheering. Then, just as suddenly, the cheering stopped.

The men behind Longo gave way, and he glanced behind him to see what had happened. 'Mother of God!' he cursed, for the gates had not opened to reinforcements. Turks were pouring through them and attacking the Christians from behind. The Christian line dissolved under the two-way attack. Longo found himself isolated in a small group with Tristo, Constantine, Dalmata and six members of the Varangian guard. They formed a circle with Constantine in the middle. Turks swarmed around them, eager to win the glory of striking down the emperor.

Longo fought with Tristo and Dalmata on either side of him. Tristo had dropped his axe and was now wielding his huge, four-foot-long sword. The heavy sword smashed through leather and steel alike, shattering swords and removing heads with every swing. Dalmata fought with a short, curved sword in either hand, parrying and slashing in a deadly blur of activity. Longo fought with his thin, slightly curved Asian sword and a small shield, dealing out death with lethal efficiency.

Next to Dalmata, one of the Varangian guards was impaled by a spear and slumped to the ground. The group closed the gap, forming a tighter circle. 'We won't last much longer like this!' Tristo shouted. 'We must do something!'

'We must get to the gate!' Constantine shouted back. 'If we can hold it then we still have a chance to defend the city from the inner walls.'

'To the gate! To the gate!' Longo shouted, echoed by Constantine and the others. All around them, the other remaining Christians were also fighting towards the gate. The Turks however, soon realized what was happening. As the Christian forces neared the gate, the janissaries rallied. They surged forward, led by a huge janissary wielding a giant, curved scimitar. Just before the wave of janissaries hit, Longo recognized the man as Ulu.

The janissaries drove a wedge through the middle of Longo's group. He found himself alone, fighting for his life. He ducked a sword, then blocked a spear thrust and spun away from two more Turks, slashing each across the gut as he did so. Another janissary charged him, screaming 'Allah! Allah!' Longo ducked under the man's sword, then slammed his shoulder into the Turk's gut and stood, flipping the janissary head over heels. Longo stabbed down, finishing the man. Then, as he turned to find his next foe, something slammed into his chest, causing him to stagger backwards. He looked down to see the feathered tail of a crossbow bolt protruding from his armour, just beneath his right collarbone. Blood was already oozing from the wound, staining his armour red.

The janissary who had fired the bolt had drawn his sword, and now he moved in for the kill, slashing at Longo's gut. Longo managed to parry the blow, but as their swords clanged together, agonizing pain shot through Longo's chest. He stumbled backwards and sank to his knees. The janissary raised his sword to finish Longo. Then the man's weapon fell aside as he was struck from behind, cleaved almost in half by Tristo's huge sword. Tristo stepped past the dead man and knelt beside Longo.

'Come on, let's get you out of here.'

'Tristo, behind you,' Longo whispered, pointing past his friend to where Ulu was striding across the field towards them. Tristo rose and turned to face him.

'Don't worry. I'll take care of this bugger.'

As Ulu approached, he grabbed one of the other janissaries running to confront Tristo and pushed him aside. 'This one is mine,' Ulu barked. The two huge men faced off, each pausing to size the other up. Tristo was a good three inches taller than Ulu and heavier, but whereas Tristo was bulky, the janissary general was tightly muscled, without an ounce of fat. Ulu held his long yatagan sword with one hand and swung it lightly from side to side. Tristo gripped his own mighty longsword with both hands.

Ulu attacked first, springing forward with surprising speed and slashing for Tristo's gut. Tristo knocked the blow aside with his sword, then spun and chopped down at Ulu's head. Ulu jumped back out of the way, and Tristo pressed the attack, slicing upwards towards Ulu's chest. Ulu blocked the blow, and their swords locked together, bringing them close. Each man strained against the other, their teeth gritting and biceps bulging. 'You're a strong son of a bitch, aren't you?' Tristo growled. 'But the bigger they are, the easier it is for me to do this.' And with that, he head-butted Ulu in the face, and at the same time, brought his knee up hard into the janissary's groin.

Ulu stumbled backwards, his guard open, and Tristo stabbed for his chest. For a second, Longo thought that the blow would succeed, but then Ulu's sword swept back, deflecting the blow at the last second. Still, Tristo's sword sliced through the side of Ulu's armour, which was soon wet with blood. The injury, however, seemed to only enrage Ulu. With a roar, he went on the offensive, forcing Tristo to retreat under a series of heavy blows. Despite all his fury, however, Ulu could not penetrate Tristo's guard. Then, Ulu made a mistake. As Tristo retreated, Ulu lunged too far forward, tripping over a dead body. Tristo stepped in for the kill, slicing down for Ulu's neck. But the janissary had only pretended to stumble. Ulu sidestepped the blow, knocked Tristo's sword aside, and then reversed the direction of his own sword. He caught Tristo in the side of the head, cleaving his skull open and killing him instantly.

A wordless, primal scream burst from Longo. His heart pounded and rage coursed through him, washing away the pain in his chest. He stood and cast his shield aside, gripping his sword with both hands. Then he charged. Ulu waited for him to come and at the last second swung hard for Longo's head. Longo ducked the blow and thrust at Ulu's gut. Ulu parried, and as their swords met, pain knifed through Longo's chest, almost making him drop his sword. Longo staggered back, and Ulu took advantage, attacking with a vicious overhead blow. Longo spun away from the sword, and as he completed his spin, kicked out, catching Ulu square in the stomach. Ulu hardly moved. It was as if Longo had kicked a wall. Longo bounced back, barely managing to avoid another slicing blow from Ulu's yatagan. The two men paused, and their eyes met. 'I spared you before,' Ulu said. 'I will have no mercy this time, Longo.'

'Nor will I,' Longo growled, and gritting his teeth against the pain in his chest, he went on the offensive, pressing Ulu with a series of quick lunges and slashes. Ulu gave ground, but Longo could not penetrate his defence. Again and again Longo thought that his sword would surely strike home, only for Ulu's huge yatagan to sweep back at the last second, deflecting Longo's blow. Longo felt himself weakening, but then caught sight of Tristo's body out of the corner of his eye. At the sight of his fallen friend, he attacked with a renewed fury. He slashed down to lower Ulu's guard, and then, mustering all of his strength, swung for Ulu's head. Somehow, Ulu again blocked the blow. Their swords locked, bringing them close together, and with his free hand, Ulu grabbed the crossbow bolt protruding from Longo's chest and twisted it. Longo gasped in pain, his knees weak and the world momentarily dim. He recovered just in time to duck a blow that would have decapitated him.

Now Ulu was on the attack, and each time Longo was forced to parry, he grunted as blinding pain tore through him. He gave ground steadily, dodging and ducking so as to avoid having to parry. Ulu slashed at Longo's belly, and this time when Longo retreated back out of the way he came up against the wall of Constantinople. There was no more room. Ulu swung hard, and when Longo parried the blow, their two swords locked together. Longo cried out in pain as he strained against Ulu, but he was no match for the janissary's strength. Ulu pushed Longo into the jagged stonework of the battered wall, and gradually the two locked blades began to inch closer to Longo's face. 'Goodbye, old friend,' Ulu said.

'Not yet,' Longo replied. 'This is for Tristo.' He let go of his sword and dropped to one knee. As Ulu fell forward above him, Longo grabbed the crossbow bolt in his chest and with a scream, tore it free. Then, before Ulu could recover his balance, Longo rose and drove the bolt into the janissary's throat. Ulu dropped his sword and staggered backwards, clutching at his neck. He pulled the bolt out, and a fountain of blood gushed after it. Ulu stared at the bolt for a moment, and then tumbled forward, dead.

Longo picked up his sword, took a few steps, and then collapsed beside Ulu. He looked down to where each beat of his heart was pumping more and more blood out of the wound in his chest. He let his sword fall from his hand and waited for one of the janissaries to finish him. But to his surprise, none attacked. Instead, they kept a wide berth, looking at him with expressions of open-mouthed awe. One of the janissaries cried out in alarm that Ulu had fallen, and as word of Ulu's death spread, the Turkish attack began to falter. Longo watched as many of the janissaries near him began to retreat. Those that fought on seemed confused and unsure of what to do. Not far from Longo, Constantine had rallied the men and was beginning to push back the janissaries.

'Longo!' someone called, and Longo looked to see William running towards him.

'William,' Longo gasped, wincing in pain as he spoke. 'Where is Sofia?'

'In the city,' William said as he knelt beside Longo. 'You're hurt! We have to get you out of here. Can you stand?'

Longo nodded. 'You should not have left her,' he said, gritting his teeth as he grabbed his sword and struggled to his feet with William's help. He stood unsteadily, covering the wound in his chest with his left hand. 'She may be in danger.'

'She made me come, and I'm glad she did. You wouldn't have lasted much longer out here. Now come on. Let's get back to the line.'

With William's help, Longo staggered to where Constantine and Dalmata had formed a new line of troops and were pushing the Turks back towards the gap in the outer wall. As Longo and William passed through the line, Constantine stepped away from the battle to join them.

'Longo, you're alive!' he exclaimed, then frowned as he noticed Longo's wound. 'Are you all right?'

'I live,' Longo grunted. He shrugged off William's help. 'I will fight so long as I can stand.'

Constantine looked at Longo sceptically. 'That is no minor wound, Longo. There is nothing more that you can do here.'

'It is my duty to fight,' Longo insisted. 'I will not fail you.'

'You have not failed me, Longo. You have done all that you can. Now, there is only one last thing that I ask of you: go to Sofia, make sure that she is safe.' Longo began to protest, but Constantine held up his hand, cutting Longo off. 'Say nothing. I have eyes, and I am not a fool, Longo. I know love when I see it. Go to her. I will hold the wall.'

'Thank you, Emperor,' Longo said. The two men clasped hands, and then the emperor returned to the battle. Longo turned to William. 'I will look after Sofia,' he told him. 'You may stay and fight if you wish.'

'And leave you on your own? Not a chance.'

'Very well,' Longo said. 'We must hurry. Sofia may have need of us.'