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  He squeezed her tightly, kissing her. She was right of course. She was always right. For this moment, this brief moment, he wanted to forget it all, let it all go. But he knew he could not. He knew he had to be strong for his people. That was why he had fled the walls to come here, so he could have his moment of weakness to better build his strength for what he must do.

  “And you must restore the church, Constantine.”

  “What?”

  He hadn’t expected this. She never involved herself in his political decisions. He needed her support right now, not further judgment. Why would she choose this greatest moment of weakness to bring this up?

  She continued, “Constantine, you must restore the church. This Union has divided the city. It has brought no aid. God will destroy the city because of it. I ask for the people, restore their faith, and their faith in you.”

  “Why would you bring this up now? After all these months? You know how difficult this decision was to make. If I go back now, the people would see the only reason I made this decision was for aid. I would look like a beggar. And aid may still come!”

  He rose, angry.

  “I came to you for support. You are the person on whom I depend. What do you seek from me? Compromise! I will be strong for the people, Zophia, I assure you! I will do and have done everything I need to do. I even sent an ambassador to Georgia to consider a betrothal. The city must come first. Not you, not the people’s stubborn faith!”

  He immediately regretted his outburst.

  “You did what?” Now she was angry as well. “When?”

  “Several months ago. Not that it matters, because it is but one more desperate gamble that will bear no fruit. Everything I do comes to nothing. That is my lot in life, as if you did not know it!”

  “You broke your promise to me and you kept it secret for two months? You have come here and laughed with me and made love to me while you held this from me. Does this mean nothing to you? Do I mean nothing? And you did not have the courage to tell me?”

  He knew he had made a terrible mistake. A terrible mistake to send the betrothal request, and a terrible mistake to tell her. But she knew now and he could not take it back.

  “Zophia, I’m sorry. I have wanted to tell you.

  I have already decided, regardless of the answer, that I would not marry her,” he added helplessly. He wondered if that statement was true, or just another lie told in the name of saving the city. What had become of him that he didn’t even know what was the truth anymore? He realized how much of himself and his own integrity he had lost in the last few years, ostensibly all for his city and his people.

  She rushed forward and struck him across the face, a stinging blow that nearly knocked him off his feet. “Get out! Get out and don’t come back. You have sold your soul and yourself! For what! Scraps! The scraps of these Italians? Oh what our great empire has become, that we are now the beggars and puppets of petty princedoms. For what? A ship or two, a few hundred men, a few thousand coins. To what end? To save a city that has decayed to nothing for a few more years? We are lost Constantine! You are lost! Go to your city and save it. I will keep my soul, my body and my honor!”

  Constantine tried to touch her but she pushed him away. He turned and left Zophia’s home. He made his way back to his horse, tied to a tree near her front door. He adjusted the straps as he distractedly leaned against his mount for support.

  Now everything was lost for him. He had already lost his people and now he had lost his love, the only person he could depend on and to whom he could show his private self. Now he would face the long weeks, months or even years of siege alone. Every moment of despair and dread would be faced without anyone to turn to. He turned and took a half step back toward Zophia’s house. He would go back and beg her for her support and forgiveness. He stopped himself. He knew she would not forgive him. Perhaps in the future, but not today, not for a long time to come.

  She was right of course, right about everything as always. He had sold everything, compromised everything. Compromise was all he knew, it was all he had ever known.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  FRIDAY APRIL 6, 1453

  Mehmet smiled. He stood outside his enormous silk tent and gazed at Constantinople. For 800 years, the armies of Islam had dashed themselves fruitlessly against these walls. Even his father, the great Murad, who had succeeded in virtually everything he had attempted, had failed here. And here he was in front of the great city. He not only had more men available than his father ever had, he also had a fleet, and his great cannon. If it was Allah’s will, he could not lose.

  He was trembling with excitement but he had to keep his control. He knew he was gambling everything. If he failed, even if success was delayed, Halil would, in all likelihood, succeed in having him removed. Removal meant death. He thought of Halil and the familiar fears flowed through him. He hated his Grand Vizier, hated and feared him above all things. Halil was here with him of course, here with the army. He was watching Mehmet’s every move, waiting for every small mistake to whisper poison into the ears of the council. His influence would assure Mehmet had the least amount of time possible to win victory. Again Mehmet considered killing the Vizier. If he did, what would happen? Would the council destroy him immediately? Would his guards even carry out the order?

  The risk was too great. He did not need to move against Halil right now. He had all the pieces in place, now he just needed to fulfill his destiny. He was ready for the great chess game to begin.

  The first move in that game was to offer peace. This was a pragmatic decision and also required. The offer was pragmatic because if Constantinople simply opened its doors, he would win an easy victory, and accomplish everything he desired at no risk of any kind. His wisdom in pushing the attack would be shown with no effort at all. He seriously doubted the Greeks would surrender without a fight, but it certainly was worth a try.

  He also was required by Islamic Law to make the offer of peace. Any city that voluntarily surrendered before the siege began must be allowed to do so, and under such a situation the citizens were allowed to keep their possessions and also keep their churches. Mehmet took pen to paper and wrote to Constantine with an appeal to voluntarily open the gates to the Ottomans:

  Constantine:

  I appeal to you before Allah to consider the welfare of your people. You are a great and sensible leader, and have done well to maintain your position and keep the city safe. However, it is Allah’s will that Constantinople become part of the great Ottoman Empire. If you will open up the gates I will assure that no harm will come to any person within the city. Your people will retain all current churches and cathedrals for their religion. They will retain all property. You and your household will be given safe passage to Moria, or any other territory. There you will be unhindered for the rest of your lifetime. You will pay no tribute, and I will pay you an annual sum of 10,000 ducats for your retirement.

  I pray you will see reason. If you do not accept these terms, I will be forced to capture the city. Your people will lose all of their property and churches. They will be sold into slavery. As you are aware, I must grant three days of pillaging to my men if they capture Constantinople by force. Your people will suffer terribly under such a circumstance. Many will be killed and your women will be dishonored. This of course would be beyond my control.

  I appeal to your good reason and to the safety of your people, and humbly ask that you accept these terms of surrender. I will be generous to your people and to you. Once the siege begins, I must carry through to the end, and cannot again make this offer. I pray to Allah you will see reason.

  Mehmet directed a courier to carry this message to the city under a flag of truce. He did not expect Constantine would see reason, but this offer would certainly create a debate and uncertainty among the Emperor’s closest advisors. More importantly he would have satisfied his requirements before Islam to offer terms before a siege began.

  He waited the rest of the day in his ten
t. He spent the day in silent reflection and prayer, rigidly kneeling without movement, his mind contemplating the siege and the future suffering of his army. He prayed that Allah would spare his people, and bring them quick victory in the event Constantine refused his generous offer. He prayed that Allah would show the Christian Emperor the wisdom of the proposal, and even better, that Constantine would convert to Islam along with his people.

  In the early afternoon, he received a reply.

  Mehmet:

  Thank you for your generous terms. Unfortunately, it is the will of God that I protect my Christian subjects and this city, which was built by Constantine, the first Christian Emperor. I must continue to protect my people and my city. I know you realize the city has never fallen, except by the unexpected treachery of the Italians.

  I do not believe you have the ability to capture the city, which is protected by more than 30,000 Greek soldiers and allies. You should also know that I expect relief from the Pope, who has called a mighty crusade. John Hunyadi also is prepared to march against you again from Hungary. I would suggest you retreat as soon as possible before I have to proceed on the offensive.

  I am willing to increase the annual tribute to you by 20 percent, and I will agree to a five-year truce if you are willing to immediately remove your men from the vicinity of the city, along with your fleet.

  Constantine.

  Mehmet smiled. You are lying to me Constantine. He had confirmation there were far fewer defenders. He also knew John Hunyadi was not preparing to attack, since they had signed a treaty.

  He was worried about the Pope. The Pope would never negotiate with the Sultan, at least so long as Rome was not directly threatened. It was possible the Pope was sending a relief force. Could it breach his navy? Could a fleet arrive in enough time to change the tide? These were worries indeed. Then again, what troops did the pope possess? He would have to find support with the other Italian cities. These cities were not only constantly at war with one another, they also traded for profit with Mehmet. It was unlikely they would unite to save Constantinople. Unlikely, but not impossible. Another worry.

  He wrote another note and provided copies of his offer to Constantine and the Emperor’s response to Halil, Zaganos and other top ministers. He wanted everyone to know he had followed the formalities. He did not disclose his knowledge of the city defenders. He did not want to reveal his spy. And let them worry that there were indeed 30,000 defenders, the better to be revealed later, to his advantage. Surely Halil would try to use this information against him, and if he could show his Grand Vizier was wrong it would strengthen his own position.

  For now, it was time to demonstrate the power of his cannon. He sent additional messengers to request that all his top commanders and ministers be present at his tent one hour after sunset.

  He knew he must constantly keep the momentum of victory going or Halil would feed doubts to the council. His ministers so far had been busy with the long travel to the city and with the placement of troops and supplies. Halil too had been busy with tasks but soon everything would settle down and the Grand Vizier would have more time to infect his council with his poison. The Sultan needed to set the tone for the siege with another display of his planning and innovation and he intended to do so immediately.

  At the appointed hour, Mehmet and many of the council members and commanders gathered before Mehmet’s tent. The Sultan then led them a short distance toward Constantinople, where they found Orban’s huge cannon in a line almost directly between Mehmet’s tent and the city walls. The main cannon had been nicknamed the Basilisk, after the mythical lizard that could turn people into stone with a single gaze. Basilisk was in position a bare two hundred yards from the outer city wall. The muzzle extended out from the wooden cradle to which it was secured. The Turks had buried the base of the cannon into the earth so it would absorb the shock of firing without blowing the weapon backward.

  Orban greeted the council members and then immediately set to work loading Basilisk, while explaining how the weapon functioned. Orban had not only forged the mighty main cannon but also two dozen lesser cannons which had also been laboriously dragged the 150 miles from Edirne to Constantinople. All of the cannon were now in position in a more or less straight line extending out with a dozen on each side of the main cannon. Crews were busy loading each of the weapons.

  After about an hour all of the cannon were loaded and ready to be fired. The bombardment of Constantinople would be unprecedented and Mehmet intended it would be around the clock, but it would also be very slow because of the reloading time.

  Mehmet led the group of spectators back about fifty yards so they could observe the firing from a safe distance. Once everyone was in position Orban looked to the Sultan for the signal to fire. Mehmet nodded to Orban and then quickly raised and lowered his arm. Orban turned and waived a red flag. The crews almost simultaneously placed torch to cannon.

  There was a rapid repeating explosion. Mehmet had never heard anything so loud and terrifying. Almost at once he could see explosions of dust and smoke against the land walls of the city. His ears rang and he felt sick to his stomach from the concussion. Eventually the smoke dissipated and he was able to see the result of his first bombardment. Where he expected massive holes through the wall, other than some noticeable depressions in the stone and some dusty smoke, there was no visible damage to the walls at all! He looked at Halil and saw a satisfied grin that quickly turned to a frown once the Vizier’s eyes met Mehmet.

  Mehmet grew angry. He had expected a display of tremendous power and instead his mighty cannon and made a huge noise and produced a few puffs of dust. He motioned for Orban to come back to him and the Hungarian hurried to comply.

  “What happened?” he demanded of Orban.

  “My Lord, you must have some patience. These cannon will surely reduce the walls in time, but remember, they are the greatest land walls in the world. Even cannon will not breach them on the first shot.”

  Mehmet also noticed frantic movement near the great cannon. “What is going on over there?”

  “I do not know My Lord, I will find out,” answered Orban. The Hungarian hurried over to the cannon. Mehmet stepped away from the crowd and motioned Zaganos over.

  “I do not need this failure Zaganos. This show was supposed to impress the council. Instead we’ve only proved just how powerful the walls are. I should rid this Hungarian of his head. I’m tired of idiots and fools wasting my time and risking my life!”

  Mehmet started to draw his sword but Zaganos stopped him, and blocked the view of the others while he whispered to the Sultan.

  “My Lord, patience. These things take time. The cannon can be fired many times per day. It may take days, weeks, or even months, but we have that much time.”

  Mehmet could not calm himself down. He felt his blood boiling and his head was hot with anger. He snatched his hand away from Zaganos, although he did not attempt to draw his sword again.

  “We do not have time! Not with Halil we do not. He works against my every move. Look at him like a hen worrying with her flock. He will not give me months. I risk everything in this Zaganos. You know that. I had hoped Constantine would possibly yield the city. He will not. This was not unexpected, but I intended to show the power of our cannon. I did not expect we would destroy the walls with one volley, but the walls show no damage at all. That fool lied to me. He promised he would give me the walls.”

  “Like Orban said, My Sultan, these things take time. He never promised immediate results. Perhaps we assumed the effect would be quick, but he never said so. He did promise the walls would not stand up to the bombardment. Let us not be hasty. Look, he comes back, let us ask him when we can expect likely results.”

  Orban looked pale and nervous when he returned.

  “What is it Orban?”

  “Bad news I’m afraid My Lord, the Basilisk has cracked in several places. This problem does happen sometimes. It will take a number of days to repair, at best a week.
I suggest that we hold off on any assault or use of the other cannon until this one is repaired.”

  Mehmet exploded and struck Orban to the ground with a blow from his gauntleted hand. “Fool! You promise me a cannon and it blows up on the first shot. I should have your head now!”

  He removed his sword and held it against Orban’s neck hard enough that a trickle of blood ran down the Hungarian’s neck. He pulled the blade up and swung it down with all his might.

  His blow was blocked by Zaganos, who had drawn his own sword at the last moment and blocked the blow.

  Mehmet pulled the sword up and turned to Zaganos, ready to strike at his friend for this insolence but the Pasha dropped his weapon and lowered his head. This act of submission calmed Mehmet down and he lowered his own sword.

  “Please My Lord,” begged Orban. “These things happen. I will have the cannon repaired quickly. You must understand that even a small fracture in the casting process can cause a cannon to splinter when it is fired. This too is to be expected and may be easily repaired.”

  Mehmet still lusted to kill the Hungarian who had so embarrassed him. He was further humiliated by his show of anger and loss of control. He could hear the murmuring of the council members behind him, and he was sure that Halil and the other senior members would discuss this failure at length.

  “Please Sultan, let him fix the cannon,” whispered Zaganos. “If you do not, we have nobody skilled enough to maintain these weapons. We need him. Remember what we are doing here. We must stay focused. A few days will not make the difference.”

  Mehmet turned back to the Hungarian. “I want it repaired in two days Orban! I’ll spare your life for now. Two days or I may not be so generous again!”