Constantinopolis Page 8

  He knew the author vaguely, primarily by reputation although he had met him a time or two in the past. Could he be trusted? Even if the letter was authentic, what was the purpose? Was it simply to ferret out his intentions?

  The Sultan spent several more hours carefully considering what he should do. He could not afford to tip his hand but he decided finally that neither could he pass up this opportunity, whatever the risk. Finally he took pen to paper and carefully answered.

  Thank you for your letter and offer. I do not know when or if I will be near the city of Constantinople again in the future, but if I am I would be happy to meet with you as you suggest. I do not know what information you could possibly supply me as I am a peaceful man and have no intentions on your city, but I would be happy to exchange a meal with you and hear your ideas for the future of our two peoples.

  Mehmet read his response over and over, carefully checking the words to assure he had not provided any hints about his future intentions. Satisfied that the letter opened up the possibility of a meeting but revealed nothing else, he carefully sealed the contents and ordered one of his most trusted messengers to his room. He passed the message on and gave instructions to take the note by the greatest secrecy to Constantinople and to deliver it in private. The messenger bowed and left silently.

  Mehmet smiled to himself. He enjoyed these games of intrigue, even if they went nowhere. If the message had been a fake he would have lost nothing. If the contact was real, he now had potential access to vital information about his enemy and about Constantinople. The Sultan lay down, satisfied with his night of labor, and fell into an immediate sleep.

  CHAPTER SIX

  SATURDAY, MARCH 17, 1453

  Giovanni, Constantine, Sphrantzes and Loukas Notaras were mounted outside the city walls, examining the work that Giovanni had accomplished since arriving in the city.

  Giovanni was supervising the excavation of the Foss, the giant ditch that had formed the outer portion of the triple defenses of the land wall. Over time, the Foss had filled in until it was useless, not much more than a narrow ditch filled with grass. The Genoan leader, with the assistance of a troop of engineers, had worked day and night to restore the ditch. Stretching along with the walls from the Golden Horn to the Sea of Marmara, a distance of 3.5 miles, The Foss was sixty feet wide and twenty feet deep when fully restored. The ditch extended out sixty feet from the outer Theodesian Wall. When completed the ditch would keep Mehmet’s soldiers from reaching the first set of walls, and would present a difficult obstacle, while also leaving his men vulnerable to arrow and musket attack from the walls.

  Once past the Foss, any attacker faced the imposing outer wall. The outer wall was six feet thick and 25 to 30 feet high, with taller towers spaced every 150 feet. The outer and inner wall were separated by a terrace. The inner and even more massive wall was on average 15 feet thick and 30 feet high. The inner wall contained 96 towers spread along the distance of the wall, with a typical height of sixty feet. Both the inner and outer walls contained nine main gates and a number of posterns which could be used for surprise sorties by the Greeks once the Ottomans were attacking the walls.

  The main gates into the city, were the Gate of Charisius at the top of the 6th hill of the city, and the Gate of St. Romanus which sat at the top of the 7th hill, with the Lycus valley between them. These gates would likely be the main focus of the Ottoman attacks and were therefore being reinforced and rebuilt first.

  Because of the limited forces available to the city, only the outer wall was being heavily defended by the Greeks. The inner wall, which was even more formidable and would likely make the city impossible to breach, simply required too many men for Constantine to defend. This reality was yet one of many limitations he was faced with, along with limited food, a tiny fleet, and virtually no money.

  “You are doing great work Giovanni,” said Constantine. “Besides the ditch, what progress have you made on the walls?”

  “I am about halfway done rebuilding the walls in the areas where they were badly damaged. I also have reinforced the walls and towers with logs and dirt, allowing them to receive and absorb the shock of larger cannon balls. Unfortunately, our resources are still very limited, and I do not know how much time we will have. Certainly the ditch will be completed before Mehmet could launch any kind of attack. As to the walls, there are no obvious breaches, but effective cannon could knock holes in the walls. We will have to be ready with reserves to keep any attackers contained until nightfall, when I can rebuild and reinforce any actual breach. With any luck at all, even with cannon, we will be able to hold the siege for a long time, years even, assuming the city has ample food.”

  “Don’t worry about our food supplies,” said Constantine. We own the seas. The Turks have no navy to speak of. They may have been able to cut off the Black Sea, but I can reinforce the city from the Sea of Marmara pretty much at will. As long as supplies are sent from the west, the city will have plenty to eat for as long as we need it.”

  “What about the Dardanelles? Do not the Turks control both sides of the straits into the Sea of Marmara?”

  “They do, but as you saw when you came through, they have not closed off the straight like they have the Bosporus. And even if they tried to cut them off with forts and cannon a fort or two may be able to stop a single ship, but never a fleet. We will be able to supply the city so long as aid actually does come from the west.”

  “I think we are in excellent position then My Lord.”

  “Thank you Giovanni, truly you have been the miracle from God we awaited.”

  Sphrantzes and Loukas added their assent, and the Greeks rode back through the gates to the Palace. They made their way to the Emperor’s council hall and after a light meal and some wine, sat down to further discuss the situation.

  “He certainly has done more for us than we could have done ourselves,” said Constantine.

  “I am amazed at his ability,” said Notaras. “I had my doubts when he first arrived, but he has knowledge none of us possess. What fortune to have someone with significant previous experience in siege warfare.”

  “That observation brings up a difficult issue,” said Sphrantzes.

  “What issue is that?”

  “Well my Lord, our friend Notaras is the commander of our forces in the city, but by his own admission, is no expert in siege warfare.”

  “What are you trying to say Sphrantzes?” asked Notaras.

  “Candidly, and I beg your pardon, I am trying to say that I believe our Emperor should appoint Giovanni overall commander of the city’s defenses. I know you are going to be angry about this Notaras, but really, we need to use the resources we have. You are more of a sailor than a soldier, and you will be needed in the Golden Horn against any navy that Mehmet might put together. We cannot afford to make mistakes in the land defenses. If Giovanni has to find you for permission to deal with an emergency issue, it might be too late. He has stressed again and again that it will be critical to close any breach the moment it happens. We cannot have him looking for permission from Loukas at the moment he should be commanding the attack. Not only that, but what if a local commander challenged Giovanni’s authority? People need to know who is in charge, and his orders must be answered immediately and without question.”

  Constantine could tell Notaras was furious. He had started to interrupt Sphrantzes several times.

  “What you propose is unprecedented Sphrantzes,” fumed Notaras. “I am the Megadux. It is my right and my responsibility to command all military forces in the city. You propose that I command the navy. What navy? Our tiny collection of ships? And against what? A couple of ramshackle boats the Sultan cobbles together. I will defend the city! Giovanni can work with me. I will give orders to all our forces that he is to be obeyed as if I gave the order. That will be enough for everyone concerned.”

  “And what about the Genoese?” asked Sphrantzes. “They control Galata. We need their aid. We have a Genoan soldier, a famous one, r
ight here in the city, right now. He knows more about warfare than all of us together. If we give him command of the defenses, it is very likely that the Genoans in Galata will come to our aid as well. Is that not another reason to give him the command?”

  “You scheme and scheme against me Sphrantzes, but you will not win out this time. Tell him Constantine.”

  Constantine looked at his two friends, unsure what to say. Damn Sphrantzes! His dislike of Notaras and constant needling created dissent in his most intimate circle of friends and advisors. If he did not need Sphrantzes, and did not trust him, he would have excluded him from these meetings entirely. But Sphrantzes was cunning and practical. He had resources nobody else possessed, including spies in the Turkish camp. Admittedly, he also created problems. At the present time he had brought into the open an issue Constantine had already considered. There were obvious and significant advantages to naming Giovanni the overall commander of the defenses. However he had intended to raise this issue with Notaras in private, and then very subtly. Now Sphrantzes had forced the issue, and put the Megadux on the defensive. Now he would have to hurt his closest friend. Notaras did not deserve this. He had shown nothing but loyalty and hard work. Once again, Constantine would have to compromise a friend for the necessities of the city.

  He looked at Notaras and smiled. His friend was looking at him, trying to read his expression. Constantine could see the color draining out of his face. He knew what was coming.

  “Loukas my friend. I don’t agree with how this was addressed at all,” he looked sternly at Sphrantzes. “However, I have been considering this issue and I have a tremendous favor to ask of you. You know that we need every bit of aid that we can put together?”

  Notaras squared his shoulders. “Yes, my Lord, I know that but. . .”

  “I have considered this issue, and I do want you to understand this decision has nothing to do with Sphrantzes. I must ask a tremendous favor of you. I wish to offer the defenses of the city to Giovanni, and the Island of Lemnos as his hereditary possession if we are attacked and succeed in defending the city. I know this comes as a hard blow to you. This decision has nothing to do with your abilities. But I do feel that we may be able to obtain additional aid from Galata if we elevate a Genoan to this position. And I also believe it will be critical if we are attacked to be able to instantly defend against breaches of the walls. And after all my friend, you are more of a sailor than a soldier.”

  Notaras looked at Sphrantzes and Constantine. He stood up and bowed to the Emperor.

  “Don’t go Loukas. . .”

  “I accept this my Lord. I don’t have to like it. I will do whatever you wish in defense of the city. I believe you are making a mistake. You may find others agree. I also worry about the Venetians. You may find they do not agree at all with this decision.”

  Notaras bowed again to the Emperor and walked briskly out, without acknowledging Sphrantzes. Of course Notaras also had raised an important issue. The great weakness in the argument of appointing Giovanni was the Venetians. Venice kept an important presence in Constantinople, including a significant force of men. The city-state also had nearly a dozen ships in the harbor of the city, ships that could aid significantly in the defense or be used to obtain provisions from Italy or the Greek Islands. If the Venetians left the city he would be greatly weakened, and certainly he would have lost all the benefit of appointing Giovanni as the leader of the defense. As always, he was forced to pick between impossible solutions to the problems. Regardless, he would have to proceed. For now he would chastise Sphrantzes for his impertinent outburst.

  Constantine turned to his other advisor. “Why do you needle him so! I should turn you out in the street! I need Notaras and I need him loyal and happy. You have taken him down at a critical time when a gentler approach would have served far better!”

  “I apologize my Lord. I thought it would help to raise a difficult issue. Notaras is now mostly angry at me, not at you. We both know this decision had to be made. Better for me to take the blame. If you had raised it, he would have been less angry at first, but would have resented you more for it later. Now he will blame me, and over time he will rationalize that you had nothing to do with the decision.”

  Constantine had not considered this. Sphrantzes was shrewd. He often disliked him, but in the end his decisions were usually the best ones. He calmed down.

  “As usual you see more than all of us Sphrantzes. Still, you should tell me ahead of time when you are springing one of your plans. I could have been prepared for the action and reconciled myself without having such a surprise.”

  “Again my Lord, I thought genuine surprise would be better than requiring you to act. However you are right. You are Lord and Master here and I presumed to act on my own accord.”

  “I suppose at the end of the day I cannot be mad at you. If we had the armies and wealth of old we would not have to devour ourselves in desperation to seek any minor advantage. The people already hate me for the Union. Why shouldn’t I anger my closest friends as well?”

  “We shall endure my Lord. And when this is over, we will not have to compromise for anyone.”

  The decision was announced throughout the city the next day. As Sphrantzes had predicted, the Genoans were delighted. They confirmed the decision to allow the sea chain to connect to the walls of Galata. They also offered private support and resources. Unfortunately, the smaller city across the horn decided it had to maintain neutrality, at least officially.

  Venetians and Genoans were notoriously at odds with one another, and the Venetians reacted very differently. A delegation including the Bailey, the official representative of the Venetian government came to Constantine, complaining about this official snuff of their importance and contributions. The Venetians and Genoans were notoriously at odds with one another. The following day, a small fleet with 800 Venetians fled the city, heading for home. Fortunately, that was the end of the row. The remaining citizens of Venice pledged their support to Constantine, and agreed reluctantly to work with Giovanni.

  The Greeks were also unhappy with the decision and Constantine could feel another strand connecting him to his people severed in the name of need. He accepted this strain, like the tension over the Union, with the same stoic fortitude. If the city was attacked, and did survive, he was sure all would be forgiven. If the city fell, it would not matter.

  SUNDAY APRIL 1, 1453 (Easter)

  Constantine woke exhausted. He shivered despite numerous blankets and Zophia’s warmth next to him. He felt a slight tremble in the bed. The trembling increased and he realized it was another earthquake. He woke Zophia and pulled her out of the bed. They ran across the room and fell, naked, under a heavy table. The rumbling increased, a clay pitcher fell off the table and crashed to the floor. Zophia held tightly on to Constantine. After about a minute, the trembling subsided and they were able to come out.

  “Why are we having these earthquakes Constantine? What can they mean?”

  The Emperor was unsure. Earthquakes were unusual in the city, but this winter and early spring had hosted many. The weather was also unusual for spring, cold and rainy. He knew the deeply religious people saw these unusual patterns as terrible omens. He had even heard that some blamed him for the city’s ill luck, because of the Union of the churches. Could it be his fault? What did God want from him? Was he to do nothing to save the city? If not, why was he put in this position? Was he simply cursed?

  “I do not know what they mean, Zophia. At such a time as this, I think we have to look at our blessings.” He smiled and kissed her. “There certainly is enough bad to worry about. I thank God for the primary blessing in my life, which of course is you.”

  She smiled back. “I agree. I’ve prayed all winter to the Virgin and to God that we would make it to this Easter morning. With God’s grace, we have made it.”

  “I hate to agree with you but I suppose I must. When I heard about the Turks massing at Edirne this past fall, I thought they might attack
before winter set in. Now I start to wonder if they might actually leave us alone, at least for another year.”

  She kissed him back, “Don’t push your luck my love. Let us be content with Easter and go from there.”

  “Before we are stuck in mass for hours, I have some other ideas for now . . .”

  She laughed. “I suppose I must submit to your royal commands.”

  Later the couple left and went for a ride through the city. Despite the earthquake, the people seemed to be in good spirits and greeted the Emperor with waves and even applause. After the initial strain and unhappiness about the Union, the people had slowly warmed back up to their Emperor. Their reaction to the Emperor on this particular day was even more enthusiastic. Perhaps Zophia was not the only person who had prayed that the city would be delivered to Easter.

  Finally they arrived at the Cathedral itself. Zophia kissed Constantine and rode slowly away. She had proved stubbornly unwilling to support him on the Union, even these many months later.

  Constantine entered St. Sophia through the Grand Imperial gate, the massive doors just past the narthex that allowed entrance into the sanctuary. He stood and admired the great interior of the cathedral. The dome stood as if suspended from heaven, almost two hundred feet high. The sanctuary was filled with ornate mosaics and paintings in gilded frames, along with the gold and silver pitchers, candelabras and crosses. At the top of the dome a huge mosaic of Jesus stared down at the worn marble floor below, with the paintings of four archangels on the four massive supporting arches of the dome.

  Constantine noted that even for this Easter celebration, very few Greeks were in attendance. The attendees were mostly Italians and Isidore’s minions. He climbed slowly up to the traditional Imperial balcony above the sanctuary. He found difficulty concentrating on the Mass. Constantine hoped that his people would have their souls filled on this most important day, wherever they had to go to do so. He realized he was proud of his people. He had to compromise, but they did not. And while they might be upset with him, at some level they seemed to understand that these sacrifices needed to be made.