Siege

Chapter 24

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

Sofia crouched on the floor, wedged in a tight space behind a chest and beneath a broad windowsill. She concentrated on breathing steadily and quietly, despite the violent beating of her heart. Two Turks in full armour had just burst into the single room of the house where she was hiding and were ransacking it for loot. She heard the larger of the two men walk towards her. He stopped before the chest and pulled it open.

'There's nothing here,' he said in Turkish. He slammed the lid closed and moved away. 'Let's move on.'

Sofia peeped out and watched as he strode to the door. The other Turk was sawing at a candlestick with his knife, trying to determine if it was solid gold. He was short and thin, with a large wart on his cheek. He looked up, and his eyes met Sofia's.

'What have we here?' he said, dropping the candlestick. 'Finally, a real treasure.'

Sofia wriggled out from behind the chest and drew her sword. 'Stay back,' she warned in accented Turkish. 'Or you will regret it.'

'We don't have time for her,' the larger Turk said from the door. 'Let's gather what treasure we can before the rest of the army arrives to pick the city clean.'

'Nonsense,' the thin Turk insisted. 'This one will fetch a pretty price at the market once we're done with her. Besides, there's still plenty of time to have a bit of fun before the city falls.' He loosened his belt and stepped towards Sofia.

'I am a princess,' Sofia told them, raising her sword. 'Do not dare touch me!'

'A princess?' the larger Turk repeated. He drew his sword and joined his comrade. 'Then you should be worth a pretty penny indeed.' Gennadius knelt before the altar in the chapel of the church of Saint Saviour in Chora, his head bowed as if in prayer. The church stood only fifty yards inside the high walls of the Mesoteichion, and Gennadius could clearly hear the clash of arms, the screams of the wounded and the battlecries of 'Allah! Allah! Allah!' Behind him, women, children and men too old to fight huddled together in fear and prayed for their city. But Gennadius's mind was not on prayer. He was waiting impatiently for Eugenius's return. If all had gone as planned, then the prayers of the people here would do them little good. Constantinople would fall, and Gennadius would be made patriarch. Finally, the Union would be dead, and he would drive the Latins from the city once and for all.

Gennadius heard the door of the chapel swing open, and a moment later Eugenius knelt beside him. 'It is done,' Eugenius whispered. 'The Turks are in the city.'

'And the thieves you hired?' Gennadius asked. 'There must be no witnesses to what we have done.'

'They have been trapped and drowned in one of the cistern's flood rooms.'

'Well done, Eugenius. What you have done will win you favour in the eyes of God. Now there is only one thing left to do. Come with me.' Gennadius rose and led the way out of the back of the chapel to a staircase that spiralled up to the bell tower. He gestured for Eugenius to go first and then followed him up the stairs. 'I wish to thank you for your many services over the years,' Gennadius said as they climbed. 'You have been a faithful friend.'

'I have only sought to serve our Lord.'

'And you have. Our Father will welcome you in heaven.' Gennadius grabbed Eugenius from behind, covering his mouth with one hand while he slit his throat. He released him, and Eugenius slid to the floor, his eyes wide and his mouth working silently as blood poured from his neck. Gennadius made the sign of the cross over him. 'I am sorry, my friend, but no one can know what I have done. God have mercy on your soul.' He wiped his dagger on Eugenius's robes and then continued up the spiralling staircase.

The stairs ended in a small, dark room. A single ladder led to a hatch in the ceiling. Gennadius climbed up into daylight, emerging into a belfry, open on all sides. High above him hung the heavy bronze church bell. Gennadius went to the railing nearest the walls. From this height he had a good view of the Mesoteichion, and he could see that the fighting beyond the gate was fierce. However, the Christians seemed to be holding their ground. In fact, they appeared to be pushing the Turks back. Despite all he had done, the walls of Constantinople were holding.

Gennadius pulled a broad piece of white cloth from his robes and tied it to the side of the belfry. It unfurled in the breeze, revealing a Turkish battle flag — a white background with golden lettering in Turkish script. Then Gennadius turned back to the bell and seized hold of the thick bell rope. 'What I do, I do in your name, O Lord,' he said. 'Have mercy on my soul.' 'We have them now. For Constantinople! God is with us!' Constantine roared as he led another Christian charge. Dalmata ran at his side, and the two of them fought like men possessed, hacking their way through the Turkish ranks. Inspired by their example, the other Christians surged after them, and the janissaries fell back faster and faster. Constantine and his men reached the gap in the outer wall of the Mesoteichion, driving the last Turks out on to the plain.

'Hold the line!' Constantine yelled, and the men stopped, spreading out across the gap. Where once they had been ten deep, now their line was spread thin, but if they could hold the gap only a little longer, then the day would be theirs. 'Stand firm, men!' Constantine shouted. 'Let no Turk pass!'

The loud tolling of a nearby bell swallowed up his last words. 'My God!' Dalmata said. 'The bells.'

'But the wall still stands.' Constantine was confused. 'What could this mean?'

'Look!' Dalmata pointed behind them. 'A Turkish standard flies above the walls.'

Around them, the Christian warriors began to panic. 'The Turks have taken the city!' one of the men shouted. 'We must retreat to the inner wall!' another cried. One by one, men began to leave the Christian line, running for the city gates.

'Stand and fight!' Constantine yelled. 'We must stand and fight!' But no one listened. The Turks surged forward, and the Christian line broke apart as the soldiers turned to run. Constantine found himself swept away with the rest, running hard for the gate. When he reached it, he stopped and tried to rally his men one last time.

'To me, men! To me!' he yelled. 'We must hold the gate! For God's sake, stand and fight!' But the soldiers did not stop. They streamed past Constantine, heading for the harbour and the safety of the ships. All along the walls now, the Christians were in retreat, and bells were ringing throughout the city.

Constantine was joined by Dalmata and only a dozen other men. They stood in the gate as hundreds of janissaries rushed towards them. 'The battle is lost,' Constantine told them. 'There is no need to stay and die for me.'

'I will stand with you until the end,' Dalmata told him. The others nodded their agreement.

'Then if we are to die, let us die fighting. For Constantinople!' Constantine screamed as he turned and charged towards the onrushing Turks.

'For Constantinople!' Dalmata echoed. They met the charging janissaries side by side. For a moment they held their own against the onslaught. Then the Turks surged forward once again, and Constantine and Dalmata disappeared in the crowd of men. Longo staggered through the empty streets of Constantinople, forcing himself onward even though each step brought a sharp stab of pain that stole his breath away. William walked beside him, supporting him when the pain grew too much. The palace had just come in sight when they heard the bells.

'The bells,' William said. 'The city has fallen.'

'We must hurry,' Longo said. Despite the stabbing pain in his chest, he broke into a jog. The streets, empty only a few seconds before, filled quickly as panicked men and women fled their homes. Some ran for the docks, others towards the nearest church. William led Longo through the crowd to the small house where he had left Sofia. The door to the house had been forced. It hung crookedly on its hinges.

'Sofia!' Longo called and rushed inside. He found her standing at the back of house, her sword drawn and bloodied. At her feet lay two dead Turkish soldiers.

'Longo!' she cried when she saw him. Sofia dropped her sword and raced across the room. Longo embraced her and held her tight. 'Thank God you are safe,' she said, then she stepped back and noticed Longo's blood-stained armour. 'You are hurt!'

'It is nothing,' Longo replied, although his pale face and ragged breathing said otherwise. 'Come, we must get to the ship.'

Sofia and William supported Longo as they hurried towards the Horaia gate, which led through the sea wall and out to the harbour. The crowd in the street had thinned to almost nothing. Behind them, the sounds of wailing women signalled the approach of the Turks.

'This way,' Sofia said, leading them into a side street that led down towards the harbour. They had not gone far when eight janissaries spilled out of an alleyway and into the street thirty yards ahead. Two carried a heavy chest between them, and several others dragged women. When they saw Longo, William and Sofia, the Turks dropped their loot and drew their swords.

'I cannot outrun them,' Longo said. 'I will stay and hold them off as long as I can. You two circle around and head for the docks.'

'I told you that I would not leave you,' Sofia replied. 'And I will not.' She drew her sword and stepped forward. William joined her.

The janissaries attacked all together, driving the three friends apart. Longo found himself surrounded by four men. Slowed by the racking pain that accompanied his every breath, it was all that he could do to fend them off. He felt a sword blow nick off his armour and gave ground until his back was against the wall of one of the buildings lining the street. He was light-headed and weak from the loss of blood, and he could feel his arm slowing. He was late to parry a blow, and a sword glanced off his chest-plate. Another Turkish attack slipped past his guard and slashed him across the thigh. He dropped to one knee.

Then, out of the corner of his eye, Longo saw Sofia go down. A sudden rage coursed through him, and the pain in his chest vanished. With a roar, he sprang to his feet and went on the offensive. He ducked the attack of one Turk and slashed him across the chest; parried another blow and kicked out, knocking a janissary off his feet and then finishing him with a downward thrust of his sword. Longo left his sword in the dead man's chest as he spun away from another blow. He grabbed the attacking Turk's arm and hurled him face first into the wall of the alley, knocking him unconscious. The last janissary facing him fled for his life.

Across the street, Sofia sat propped up against the wall, fighting desperately to fend off two of the janissaries. Longo sprinted forward and slammed into the first Turk from behind, knocking him sprawling face first into the wall. As the other Turk turned to face him, Sofia lunged forward, burying her sword in the janissary's back. She collapsed back against the wall.

'Where are you hurt?' Longo asked, kneeling beside her.

'My leg.' Sofia showed Longo a shallow gash on her left thigh.

Longo ripped off one of the sleeves of her shirt and tied it around her thigh to slow the bleeding. 'Can you stand?' She nodded and Longo helped her to her feet. They stood leaning on one another for support. William had just finished off the last of the Turks. He retrieved Longo's sword and then placed himself between Sofia and Longo, propping both of them up. The three of them had just set off when far away down the street behind them, the janissary who had fled reappeared leading another troop of Turks.

'There are too many to fight,' Longo said.

'And we cannot outrun them,' William added. 'Not with two of us hurt.'

'Follow me.' Sofia, supported by William, led them into a narrow alley, barely wide enough for two people to walk abreast. They had only gone a few dozen feet when she took them on an even narrower side path. Behind them, they could hear the sound of footsteps filling the alleyways.

'Where are we?' William whispered. 'Are we near the docks?'

'I am not sure,' Sofia whispered back. 'But this is an old part of the city. The alleyways here are all connected. As long as we head north, we should reach the harbour… so long as we don't hit a dead end.'

The alley ended at another passage, and Sofia took them to the right. The footsteps of the Turks now sounded as if they were right on top of them. They took another left turn. After a dozen feet the passage swung sharply to the right, finishing in a dead end. Behind them, they could hear Turkish voices approaching. 'We can't go back that way,' Longo said.

'In here,' Sofia urged, pointing to a door on the left-hand side of the passage. She tried the latch, but it was locked. William stepped forward and kicked the door hard. It swung open and they all hurried inside. They found themselves in a small kitchen, barely large enough for the three of them. William shut the door behind them and they shoved a heavy table in front of it. Limping, Sofia led the way through the next room to a door. She cracked it open. Before them was an empty square, and at the far end of the square, the Horaia gate. 'We've made it,' she breathed. 'Come on.'

They hurried through the gate and into the harbour. Most of the boats had already left, and the docks were crowded with men and women desperately seeking a way across the Horn. Some were jumping into the water to swim. The few small rowing boats that remained were filled until their sides barely cleared the water and were then rowed frantically towards the far shore. Longo paused to look for his ship.

'There she is!' William shouted, pointing to la Fortuna, which floated at a pier some two hundred yards down the harbour. There were sailors in the rigging, preparing the sails. 'Thank God she's still here.'

They hurried towards the ship, but had not got far when behind them the first Turks began to pour out of the gate and into the harbour. They spread out, killing the men and dragging the terrified women away. 'Hurry!' Longo yelled. He tried to run, but his legs refused. The world went dim and began to spin. William grabbed him and hauled him over his shoulder, staggering towards the ship. Sofia limped after them.

As they approached, they saw that most of the ship's crew was at the railing, fending off a crowd of Greek men and women who were desperate to get on board. William shouldered his way through the crowd, carrying Longo with him and with Sofia close behind. They rushed across the gangway, and Nicolo stepped aside to let them on board.

'Thank God you're here!'

'You have done well, Nicolo,' Longo breathed as he slumped against the railing and then slid to the deck. Sofia rushed to his side. 'Set sail.' Longo pointed to the dock. 'And let as many of those people on board as the ship will carry.'

The sailors stood aside and the people poured on to the ship. The Turks were close behind, and before the last of the Greeks were on board, the sailors found themselves fending off Turkish soldiers. 'Shove off!' William yelled from the quarterdeck, where he had taken the wheel. As the ship floated away from the dock, he called out, 'Set the sails!' The sails fell and were tied home. Within seconds the ship was making way towards Pera.

Longo sat near the railing, his head cradled in Sofia's arms. Together, they looked back upon the city. A hundred yards to their right, soldiers were marching across the floating bridge, joining the other Turks already swarming around the harbour. The Christians left trapped at the harbour were being slaughtered. Further off, past the sea walls, fires were rising up near the palace, casting plumes of black smoke into the clear spring sky. Other than the fires, the city looked almost peaceful. The bells had fallen silent. After watching for a long time, Sofia turned her head. There were tears in her eyes.

'I cannot believe that Constantinople has fallen,' she said. 'I fear I will never set foot in my home again.'

'But you are safe,' Longo said. 'That is all that matters. You will live a long life, a happy life.'

'We all will,' Sofia replied and placed Longo's hand on her stomach.

Despite the pain coursing through his body, Longo smiled. 'I have seen this day only in my worst nightmares,' he said. 'I never dreamed that it would give me reason for joy.'

Sofia leaned forward and kissed him lightly on the lips. 'Nor did I,' she whispered. She turned and gazed once more at the city through eyes full of tears. 'Nor did I.'