Constantinopolis Read online

“I won’t hear more of this!” interjected Constantine. “Let us focus on the matter at hand.”

  “My Lord, will you not take my counsel?”

  Constantine looked further down the table. Cardinal Isidore had spoken.

  “You have something to add Isidore?”

  “My Lord, the answer to this problem is simple. All the aid you will ever need is but a moment away. It is time to institute the Union.”

  The Union. Constantine scrutinized Isidore closely. Why would the Cardinal raise this issue now? Did he need more problems? More controversy? He didn’t trust Isidore at all. He was a creature of Rome. But Constantine knew that as always, he could do nothing alone. Nothing independently. Isidore had appeared in October with 200 archers and promises of more aid from the West. But the aid came at a price. A price perhaps too high to pay.

  Isidore wanted Constantine to reunite the western and eastern churches. More accurately, he was demanding that the Emperor put into action what had already been agreed.

  The churches had split over several issues of faith in the eleventh century. Since that time many efforts had been made to heal the schism between the Pope in Rome and the Patriarch in Constantinople. The Council of Florence, after many starts and stops, had negotiated a Union of the churches in 1445. The Eastern bishops serving as delegates to this council helped to negotiate the Union. However, the decision was very unpopular in Constantinople and in the Eastern Church. The provisions had never been formally adopted in Constantinople. This awkward situation had created another barrier in negotiating with Rome and in requesting aid.

  Constantine faced an impossible situation. If he enforced the Union, he would invoke unrest or even open revolt in his people. If he ignored the Union, he risked alienating the Pope, whose aid he desperately needed if Constantinople was to survive. He had kept a delicate balance for years, but with the crisis at hand, and with the Pope’s representative directly demanding the Union in exchange for aid, he might be out of time.

  “My Lord,” continued Isidore. “It is time to put in effect what you have already promised and committed to do. You must reunite with the true church. If you do this, the Pope will send aid to your defense, and will summon a new crusade of Latin forces to save the city. It is the only way.”

  “I agree with Isidore,” said Sphrantzes. “Why do we not put in effect what has already been promised?” Constantine was surprised that Sphrantzes would support the Union, and more surprised he would do so openly without consulting Constantine first.

  “The people will never accept it, and they will hate me for it,” answered the Emperor.

  “The people will learn to live with it,” said Sphrantzes. “If they are raped or dead or slaves, they will have less time to worry about the fine points of religious practice.”

  “How do we know if it will even make a difference, Isidore?” asked the Emperor

  “His Holiness has offered ships, gold and troops. He will declare a new crusade. He has promised he will rally the Hungarians to our side. Did he not provide me resources to recruit the archers I brought to the city with me as Papal Legate? He will deliver on his promises I assure you.”

  “I advise against it My Lord,” said Notaras. “You gain nothing by agreeing. What if your people depose you? What if they refuse to cooperate? You can’t sacrifice your people, your soul, for the vague promise of aid.”

  As always Constantine faced only bad decisions. What should he do? He couldn’t defend the city with only his own resources. It was possible his people would kill him, or refuse to defend the city. In the end it didn’t matter. With no help from the west, the city would fall, regardless of the mood of the people. The only hope was aid. He had to do what was necessary. It was a reckless gamble, but he was out of options.

  If only his people would see this. If only they would see that they weren’t sacrificing their afterlife or their faith by agreeing to the union. If only they would see that this was the only way to obtain aid from the west, aid that was critical if the city and his people were to survive. He prayed to God and to the Virgin for wisdom and guidance to do the right thing. He opened his eyes and addressed Cardinal Isidore.

  “I’ve decided I will sign the union of the churches. I will implement those changes immediately. I want word sent by a fast ship to the Pope. We need food, soldiers and money immediately. We need a holy crusade against the infidels. We cannot wait weeks or months. It must be now, and it must be immense. I need the Hungarians and all of the west. Tell him he must provide this. Tell him I have given him everything; he must give me everything in return.”

  CHAPTER THREE

  THURSDAY, NOVEMBER 30, 1452

  Weeks passed as winter set in. The early winter of 1452-53, as the Greeks measured the passing of time. Mehmet rode east on a solitary, wind-swept road, accompanied only by Zaganos and a few guards trailing from behind.

  The group was traveling ostensibly on a routine inspection of some of Zaganos’s troops, but the trip also allowed Mehmet to speak freely with his favored general, without the normal palace spies and courtiers about, and without Halil’s prying ears.

  As they rode to the coast of the Black Sea, the conversation had been primarily on the logistics of the military. Zaganos reported to Mehmet on the number of forces under his command, the condition of the troops, and the number of irregulars that could be readily called up from the various provinces in the event of the need for military action.

  “At the present time we have no active military campaigns,” reported Zaganos.

  “However, there are threats from both the north and the south. In the southeast, we have the Persian Empire to contend with. Their numbers are vast and as you are aware, they follow a heretical form of Islam, a constant threat to our people and our empire. In the south we face the empire of the Mamelukes. They are Muslim like us, but a rival for your power, particularly with their possession of the holy cities of Jerusalem, Mecca and Medina. Probably the greatest immediate threat of attack from Asia is the White Sheep. He has gathered a fairly large force in eastern Anatolia and is apparently communicating with the Greeks as well. We will have to deal with him at some point.

  To the north and west we face potential threats from the Latin states, including from the Pope who is perhaps your greatest theological enemy as the head of the Christian peoples, but who wields very little power in this world. The Latin are divided and fight each other, and the Venetians and Genoese are more concerned with their right to trade with us than with coming to the aid of the Pope against us.

  Our greatest threat lies to the direct north. The Serbians and Bulgarians are divided or conquered, and they are disillusioned by their years of losses at our hands. The Hungarians are our true threat. They are capable of placing large forces in the field. They are brave, organized, and John Hunyadi is a capable leader who could threaten our lands.”

  “This I know,” responded Mehmet. “I am not worried about Hunyadi. He will not attack. Not yet. We beat him too badly last time.” Mehmet referred to the Battle of Varna in 1444, where a large Hungarian force was defeated by a smaller Ottoman force, largely because of the stupidity of the Hungarian King who took over the battle from Hunyadi and was promptly crushed. Hunyadi had barely escaped with his life. Mehmet feared Hunyadi above all others. A Hungarian army led by him not only could threaten to disrupt a siege of Constantinople, it could potentially threaten to drive the Ottomans from Europe. He changed the subject.

  “What of the Greeks?”

  “The Greeks are no real threat. They are divided and weak. To our east there is Trebizond. As you know, Trebizond is a break-away state from the Greeks. Their empire is little more than the city of Trebizond and a little land around it. It is ripe fruit for us to pluck when we will.

  The southern portion of the old Greek mainland, what was once known as the Peloponnesus, and now known as the Moria is divided among the Greek Emperor’s brothers Demetrius and Thomas. They are jealous of each other, constantly squabbling,
and unable to unite together even in the face of our forces. I could march through the entire land in a few days with sufficient forces. We are already pressuring them. They will not come to Constantine’s aid.

  That leaves Constantinople itself, and a few villages. The city, once with a population of half a million, has dwindled to less than ninety thousand according to my sources. They have almost no fleet, very few soldiers, and little food or money. The only thing keeping the city intact is the walls. They can do nothing offensively against you. They can only scheme with other petty princedoms and of course they can continue to exist in the middle of your empire.

  Constantinople must logically fall, and must become part of our empire. But all of the problems still remain. The walls make it difficult if not impossible to capture the city. If we do choose to attack the city, we risk wasting our resources and men on a fruitless siege that will sap morale and further damage your reputation. More concerning, a siege will likely serve as a lighting rod to the west, as it has in the past, and we may face not only aid from the Italians but of more concern, a Hungarian relief force.”

  Mehmet spat. “Curse these foolish Greeks. Why don’t they see reality? What a city Constantinople will be under our rule. A jewel for our empire. I would build such mosques to Allah, such palaces. I would bring people from throughout our lands to make the city great again. Why will they not just leave Constantinople to us? Why won’t Constantine see reason, see that his people and his city belong to us? Better yet, why will he not embrace the true faith along with his people? He must understand they are doomed. I do not wish to destroy his people or his city. I want to make them great again.”

  Zaganos laughed. “Always with you it is Constantinople my friend. Is there no other cup to slake your thirst? Never have I met one so young with such single-minded passion. You have a harem with thousands of women. You can sample their delights each evening. You have rooms of gold and treasure. You have enemies who you can drive from their lands with a sweep of your hand. None of this do you want. You want the impossible. Does this make you great or a great fool? I cannot decide.”

  Mehmet’s face reddened. “A great fool? Perhaps if your head is on a pole you will regret that statement.”

  Zaganos stopped his horse. “A thousand pardons my Sultan. If you do not wish me to speak the truth, do not ask me questions. I am a simple man, a soldier. I answer the questions that are put to me.”

  Now it was Mehmet’s turn to chuckle. “A simple soldier? I have seen you weave your way through the court with complex and colorful patterns. You would not have risen to your station or survived as long if you walked such a simple path.”

  “It is Allah’s will.”

  “Or it is my will.”

  “For me Sultan, they are one and the same.” Zaganos bowed slightly in the saddle.

  “Well spoken my simple soldier. Have you found a solution to my simple problem?”

  “What problem is that?”

  “How to capture Constantinople of course.”

  Zaganos sighed. “Since you wish to speak of nothing else then let us speak of that. I have no further solutions for you my Sultan. My advice remains the same. We cannot easily take the city by sea or by land. We face threats from the west, east and south. Further, the council will not approve your plan against such obstacles. We should seek other roads and bide our time.”

  “What if I solved one of these obstacles? What would you say then?”

  Zaganos looked at the Sultan, puzzled. “What do you mean?”

  “Ride with me Pasha and I will show you.” Mehmet spurred his horse into a gallop and Zaganos quickly followed, struggling to keep up with the superb young horseman.

  They rode at a brisk pace for several hours, resting their horses only briefly and talking little. Zaganos tried to inquire again several times but the Sultan would only respond with a mysterious smile. As twilight approached they crested a tall hill and reached the vast expanse of the Black Sea below them.

  Zaganos gasped in surprise. Spread before them in each direction, as far as the eye could see, was a vast shipyard. Thousands of workers streamed busily over at least a hundred ships in various stages of construction. A number of completed ships lay at anchor on freshly built docks extending out into the sea.

  “My Sultan, how can this be?” asked Zaganos.

  “This is my fleet. Do you like it?”

  “I don’t know what to say. Of course it is amazing. A gift from Allah. But I don’t understand.”

  “With a fleet we can attack the single walls of Constantinople by sea, can we not? And we can stop relief fleets from arriving from the west. Does this not solve the council’s primary concerns? Aid from the west? Invulnerability by sea?”

  Zaganos was stunned.

  “My Sultan, this fleet may answer those questions, at least some questions. But how did you build this fleet in just a few weeks? This is impossible.”

  “I started construction of this fleet months ago Zaganos. I knew the council would never approve my plans without overcoming all of the obstacles that Halil would put in my way. I knew I would have to make my own destiny in this.”

  “How will your fleet operate? We do not have sufficient sailors do we? That is a constant problem for us, our inexperience at sea.”

  “I have recruited sailors from throughout the Black Sea and the Mediterranean. Our admiral is a Bulgarian I have recruited named Baltoghlu. He has extensive experience in Western naval strategies and will lead our fleet to victory over the Greeks.”

  “He is Christian or was? Can he be trusted?”

  “You too were Christian my friend. Can I trust you?”

  Zaganos was thoughtful for some time, looking out over the vast construction. Finally he spoke again.

  “My Sultan, you have solved only one problem, the problem of the sea. This does not stop aid from the west if it comes in full force, it does not stop Hunyadi and it does not help us against the land walls. I do not think you will convince Halil. He will brush this aside. He is still far too strong with the council. He thinks he is secure and can challenge you, if not openly, at least through subtle resistance.”

  Mehmet smiled. “Do not worry my friend. I have other surprises in store for our Grand Vizier.”

  THURSDAY, DECEMBER 7, 1452

  A week later Mehmet had returned to Edirne and the palace. The flickering darkness of his room kept him calm. He was alert and awake even at this late hour. The palace slept, all save a few guards and servants. He was filled with anticipation. He had savored this moment for a very long time, his opening move in a game that would risk everything. He was ready, he had prepared and was willing to gamble, even if he was gambling his life.

  He heard a soft knock at his door. “Come,” he commanded.

  The Grand Vizier cautiously entered the room. He was still dressed in his sleeping robes and looked disoriented and fearful. He carried a plate filled with gold coins which he proffered to Mehmet.

  The Sultan smiled to himself. So Halil feared him after all. An ancient custom required that trusted servants of a Sultan should bring a gold offering if ever they were summoned in the middle of the night. The gold was a last gift, a bribe to show loyalty, and to beg for their life. Mehmet was surprised Halil would be afraid. Didn’t he control the council against him? Wouldn’t the council depose Mehmet, and likely kill him if he acted against Halil? He thinks I’m stupid, Mehmet realized. He believes me so reckless that I might kill him, without realizing the consequences. How little you understand me Halil. But you will. You will.

  Mehmet waived aside the gold and beckoned for his Grand Vizier to come further in and take a seat.

  Halil cautiously took his seat, looking around him to see if an assassin would lunge out of the darkness. Mehmet poured Halil some water. Halil took it and drank slowly, as if the liquid were assuredly poisoned. The atmosphere was tense. “How may I serve you My Sultan?”

  “By now I’m sure you have heard about my little building
project on the Black Sea. Surely you will now agree we can proceed with a siege?”

  Halil drew himself up to speak. He clearly had considered this issue, and prepared his response. “My Lord, I must still respectfully disagree.”

  “Why? Wasn’t the city taken by the Latins by sea? Isn’t that the key to the city?”

  “With respect Sultan, we are not the Latins. They have ruled the seas for hundreds of years. They are masters of it. I agree completely with your decision to build a fleet. We should learn the ways of the sea if we are to rule the world. But we cannot simply build these boats and set them on the waters expecting to dominate. We will have to learn the art of warfare over time.”

  “So you do not think we can take the sea walls?”

  “My Lord, the Greeks still have a fleet. There is also a small fleet at Galata across the Golden Horn. Although this is a Genoese rather than Greek city, we must expect they would rush to the defense of the Greeks in the event of an Ottoman fleet invasion. The Greeks have their terrible Greek Fire, which will burn our ships to the waterline. An attack by sea would be hopeless.”

  “So you believe a fleet does nothing for us?”

  “On the contrary My Sultan, a fleet is a tremendous advantage for us, both now and in the future. Again, I urge you to continue to build the fleet. Use it in the Black Sea against the Greeks and the Georgians. Let the captains and men gain experience. In the meantime, you can generate some victories against the Bulgarians and the Serbs, and against the Greeks in Moria. Once you’ve won some victories, and perhaps have let a decade or so pass, we might be in a position to attack the city. Again, I recommend against it as a whole. Even with everything I have described, you still are in danger of uniting the Latins against us if you lay siege to the city. And no matter what, you still face the land walls. In a thousand years, no one has breached them. How many nations and leaders have fallen beating themselves uselessly against the walls of Constantinople? The city is a curse. Let it rot on the vine. Your father tried to take the city and failed. He was wise enough to realize that the city had no power over him. He could simply let it fall on its own in its own time. They are insolent, I agree. Raise their tribute even further, the faster to bleed them to submission.”