Constantinopolis Read online

  Not that the sacrifice seemed worth it at this point. After the initial wave of enthusiasm when Giovanni arrived, the city had received little aid from the West. A few private individuals and ships had arrived, but no relief came from Rome or any other city or state. Constantine rode out faithfully each morning and each evening to the rise of land near the acropolis, looking out over the sea walls, straining his eyes out over the Marmara in hopes of spotting another fleet. The Pope had promised aid and the sooner it arrived the better. He just hoped any aid would arrive before the Turks invested the city, if that was in fact their intent.

  On the other hand, the city was in far better condition now to deal with any attack that might come. Giovanni had worked miracles with the city walls. The Genoese in Galata, while neutral, had supplied individual soldiers and some food and supplies. The Venetians had pledged their support and loyalty after the flight of a few citizens in February. In addition, there were various companies and individuals from other Frankish cities and even purportedly a visitor from the land of Scots.

  A Turkish prince, Orhan, also lived in the city with his household. He was a pretender to the Sultan’s throne. He lived in Constantinople with financial support from the Sultan, who paid to keep him out of royal business.

  The previous Emperor, and even Constantine, had used Orhan as a threat at times to the Sultans, suggesting that if the Ottomans did not meet the demands of the Emperors, then they would turn Orhan loose and support him for the throne. Certainly this threat was unlikely during Murad’s reign, but Mehmet’s control of the throne was far more tenuous. If the city fell, the Sultan would most assuredly kill Orhan. For this reason, Constantine could depend on Orhan’s loyal support, and the support of his household.

  Isidore was really working himself up today Constantine noted. He chastised the Greeks for failing to truly embrace the Union. Constantine had to smile to himself. To whom was he preaching? The Venetians? The Genoese? He was practically the only Greek there. Perhaps Isidore was directing this message to him. If so, Constantine’s response was simple: Where is your aid, Isidore? I did not sell my people’s souls for 200 archers and a little grain. If you want the Union to stick, perhaps some more material aid would be beneficial. Constantine mused at what a strange and sad place his empire had become, begging to the beggars in the west to come and save him.

  The fiery lecture ended and Isidore began the Holy Communion. Constantine rose and quietly left the Cathedral. He did not feel like receiving the Host from a Frank today, or even a Russian for that matter. Still he felt a strange warmth and comfort. He had made it through a difficult winter, a winter constituting another few impossible months in an impossible life. By all accounts he should have been killed years ago, when he was a hostage of Murad, Mehmet’s father, or in the multitude of court intrigues and the competition for the hollow throne of the Greeks. Even during his time as the leader in the Peloponnesus, he could have died in battle or at the hands of an assassin a dozen or more times. He lived for this crumbling city and a few scraps of territory remaining to the Greeks.

  On the other hand, in many ways the city was more prepared now than it had been in the previous hundred years. He still was not sure how many total soldiers he had available, but he estimated it must be close to 20,000. Assuming he actually attacked, if Mehmet fielded double or triple that number, he was sure the city could easily hold. Assuming he even actually attacked. With some luck, he might even attack Mehmet after a month or two of siege, and deal the Turks a blow that would make them hesitate for a generation or two. He even fantasized about the remote possibility that Hunyadi and the Italians would join him and drive the infidels from the shores of Europe for good. He would go down in history as the greatest Emperor in hundreds of years, maybe ever.

  Had Augustus or Justinian faced odds like these? Or even the original Roman Emperor Constantine who created this city from the town of Byzantium? He wondered if Gregory had reached Hunyadi again? He thought it very unlikely that the Hungarian leader would join him, but with the promise of aid from the Pope, perhaps he would. Even the threat of an attack from the Hungarians might be enough to save the city, at least for another year.

  Constantine stood outside St. Sophia, turning to admire the great Cathedral. The church rose sharply into the sky, the largest building in the world. He admired the huge dome sparkling in the sky, with the gold cross at the top. How many invading armies had looked out with impotent frustration at this dome, hidden behind the impregnable walls of the city? He thanked God for his fortune and for protecting Constantinople.

  As he finished his prayer, he heard the thud of a galloping horse and looked up to see Sphrantzes reining his horse in sharply. He smiled ruefully again to himself. He had felt so at peace, that of course such moments had never been meant to last for him. He lived crisis to crisis. Such was his fate.

  “Sphrantzes my friend, Happy Easter to you. What brings you to me in such haste? Did you bring me an Easter gift?”

  “My Lord, a huge fleet approaches!”

  Constantine smiled larger. It was after all the perfect Easter present, aid from the West at last!

  “Can you tell whether they are Roman or Venetian, or are they from some other city sending aid?”

  “I’m sorry My Lord, they are not friendly. The huge Turkish fleet. They are coming up out of the Bosporus. They are too numerous to count.”

  Constantine felt his joy drain out of him and turn to cold despair. A Turkish fleet? How could that be? The Ottomans had certainly had fleets in the past but not in recent memory. Mehmet’s father was almost ruined by a lack of fleet, when he was caught on the Asian side of the Bosporus without sufficient ships to ferry his forces back to Europe in the face of Hunyadi’s invasion. Only Genoan greed had saved him. Now the Turks had a new fleet? How had they built it so quickly and how had Constantine not learned about the fleet ahead of time? This news was unexpected and terrible. However this disaster had come to pass, the reality was here and Constantine had to deal with it.

  “Is the sea chain in place?”

  “Yes My Lord. Notaras has kept it in place constantly, except when we have ships coming or going.”

  “Let us go look at the sea chain for ourselves.”

  The Emperor still held out hope that Sphrantzes was mistaken. A fleet coming out of the Bosporus did not necessarily mean a Turkish fleet. The Georgians or Trebizonds might have sent a fleet to the city. Yes, this could still be a relief fleet.

  Constantine had his horse brought to him and quickly mounted, taking off in a gallop toward the Acropolis. Fortunately St. Sophia was close to the northeast tip of the city. Constantine was there in a matter of minutes.

  Crowds had gathered and were looking out over the sea walls at the ships floating up the Bosporus toward the city. Constantine immediately saw that Sphrantzes was right. The ships flew the red banners of the Ottomans. This fleet was an Ottoman fleet, a huge fleet. Constantine could not believe it. When had the Sultan created such a fleet? There seemed to be hundreds of ships on the horizon, all heading toward the city.

  He watched for hours. Zophia, Sphrantzes, Notaras, and even Giovanni all joined him to watch the fleet coming closer to the city. Notaras had sent the small Greek fleet out into the Horn near the sea chain, not to challenge the Turkish fleet, but to make sure they were in position in case the Turks mounted an attack on the chain itself.

  Fortunately, it appeared the Ottomans were not yet ready to attack. The ships came near the chain and then turned to the south and eventually circled around, sailing in an oval pattern back past Galata on their left and down the Bosporus where they were anchoring about five miles from the city. For now the Turks made no effort to menace the chain or the tiny Greek fleet standing off in the Horn.

  Zophia kept her horse near Constantine’s, holding his hand and rubbing his arm supportively. Tears flowed down her face and she whispered comforting words to him, words of support and love falling deaf on his ears as he contemplated this te
rrible turn of events.

  What could he do against this fleet? He had not considered an attack by sea as a threat at all, let alone a serious one. This fleet changed everything for the worse in an already desperate situation. Even with the sea chain, Constantinople had miles and miles exposed to the sea on the Marmara side. There were sea walls to defend the city, but they were not nearly as intricate or as strong as the land walls. These sea walls would certainly slow down any attack, but he would now have to keep soldiers posted along the perimeter of the entire city walls to defend against a sudden fleet attack. Additionally, the fleet would be able to stop any aid from reaching the city, unless a relief fleet was similarly sized. Constantine had counted on supplies and reinforcements coming from the sea. Without this relief, the city could not stand a prolonged siege.

  Constantinople held all the water it would ever need in a huge system of underground cisterns, but the city also needed food, particularly livestock and grain. Constantine had counted on additional grain and fresh meat arriving from the Greek Islands and also hopefully from Italy. Without these fresh reserves, the city could only last a couple of months, and then only by carefully rationing the food supply. The morale of the people was critical during a siege, and now the people would be hungry as well as fearful.

  The appearance of the Ottoman fleet also answered a final question for Constantine. The massing of troops to Edirne and the building of cannon was not for the purpose of an attack somewhere else. The Turks were coming to Constantinople. They were not coming to bargain for more tribute. The Sultan was coming to take the city once and for all. Feeling sick, Constantine gave his friends the best possible look of encouragement and slowly turned his horse away, heading toward the palace to consider the defense of the city. He had such hopes that Easter was a beginning, but instead it was clearly an end, an end to the hope that they would be left alone for another year. Instead they would face their fears once and for all. They would face the massive Ottoman military machine at land and sea, with only the walls to protect them.

  WEDNESDAY, APRIL 4, 1453

  Constantine stood in a tower high above the city, one of the 96 towers along the inner wall of the massive land fortifications. Each tower stood sixty feet or more above the city, and was intended as an individual castle that would have to be attacked and defeated by any force that besieged them.

  Constantine stared grimly out over the plains outside the city and watched the Ottomans slowly moving their forces into place. He was amazed. He had never seen so many men, and they moved with great organization to the sounds of drums and music. The Ottomans were legendary for their ability to move quickly and quietly, but today they announced their arrival with tremendous fanfare. They wanted to be seen.

  There were tens of thousands, perhaps hundreds of thousands. He had Sphrantzes working on an accurate estimate from his spies within the Ottoman camp, but he would not know for hours, perhaps days, how many men he was facing. Giovanni stood next to him, carefully watching the disposition of the Turkish forces and the positions of the cannon that were being slowly dragged in to place and secured by their crews.

  “There seem to be far more than we estimated, My Lord. I would estimate several hundred thousand.”

  Several hundred thousand. The number was staggering. Constantine did not know such an army could even exist in the world. The greatest Christian army he was aware of was the Hungarian one under Hunyadi and he could muster perhaps 30,000 to 40,000 men in the field. How could anyone stand up to 200,000?

  Then he remembered that the city had stood up to worse. The walls were the great equalizer, and as long as the walls held, the city would hold. If they held long enough, Mehmet’s men would grow frustrated and they would leave like every army before them had done.

  The Turks had spread out over the past few days all along the city walls, and in the plains directly in front of Galata. The vast majority of the Ottoman forces seemed to be gathering on the crest of the two hills before the Charisius gate and the St. Romanus gate, and in the Lycus valley between them.

  Constantine asked, “What of our own forces? How have you set up the defenses of the city?”

  “My Lord, I have set up our main defenses along the land wall of course, and I have divided up responsibility among our various nationalities and leaders. You and I will field the main force of Greeks and my Genoans here in the Lycus Valley where we can defend the wall and both primary gates. To our left, there is a mixed force of Greeks and Italians defending the rest of the wall to the Sea of Marmara. To our right, the Venetian Bailey Minotto is defending your palace and the walls all the way to the Golden Horn. The Horn itself is defended by our fleet and also by Venetians and Genoans, and two shiploads of sailors from Crete. The Acropolis is defended by Isidore and 200 archers. The Marmara side of the sea walls are defended by Orhan and his Turkish retainers and then by some Greek Monks. As you know, our best armed and skilled fighters are here with us, including the large mobile reserve force I have created.”

  As they surveyed the enemy dispositions, Sphrantzes joined them.

  “Sphrantzes, have you come to enjoy the view?”

  “Not quite, my Lord. I have a couple of issues to discuss with you in private.”

  Constantine motioned Sphrantzes over to the opposite end of the tower, facing into the city.

  “What is it now?”

  “My Lord, I have completed a tally of the forces in the city.”

  “What are we working with? I’m hoping you have some good news for me. Did we make 20,000?”

  “We have 7,000 defenders for the city.”

  “What? How can that be possible? We received reinforcements. All of the previous estimates were in the 10,000 to 15,000 range.”

  “I’m sorry My Lord, but I have made a very careful census and there are only 7,000.”

  Constantine leaned against a tower wall for support. 7,000! How could he defend the city with 7,000 soldiers against 200,000 or more? Constantine was overwhelmed. Did he have to live a cursed life? Why was there never any good news? What had he ever done to deserve this? His ancestors had ruled over a city with half a million residents. Huge Greek armies and fleets had roamed every direction on the compass, extending the power of the empire and bringing back the riches of the world. With a tenth of the former might, he could easily defend the city. What could he do now? Should he just open the city gates and be done with it? Should he negotiate a surrender?

  He forced himself to breathe and keep his emotions under control. He hoped the internal struggle had not shown on his face. He had to keep control, and give as much encouragement as he could muster.

  “It will be alright Sphrantzes. I appreciate your hard work gathering this information. I am going to ride out to the sea wall defenses and inspect the forces there. Please let Giovanni know the number, but nobody else. We must keep this confidential.”

  Constantine maintained his composure and left the tower. He mounted and rode stoically through the streets, greeting his fellow Greeks and providing as much encouragement as he could. The atmosphere in the city had changed noticeably since the arrival of the fleet, and more so after the army appeared. The people were afraid. He could see it in their eyes. The crisis had seemed to draw them back to him. He did not encounter the disapproving looks he had seen on so many faces since the announcement of the Union, but he felt that all would be forgiven if the city was held successfully.

  He eventually made his way to Zophia’s. She was surprised and delighted to see him.

  “My Lord, to what do I owe this visit on such a day?”

  “May I come in?”

  “Of course my love come in.”

  Constantine went in and sat down heavily in a chair. “Do you have anything to drink? Something strong?” He saw Zophia’s look of concern. “I know it’s not my habit but today I need something.”

  She searched the kitchen and finally came across a dusty bottle, she filled two glasses and brought a full one to Constantine. H
e gulped it down, scowling at the harshness of the drink. She put a gentle hand on his. He poured another glass and quickly drank it, his hands shaking uncontrollably.

  “What is wrong?”

  “I cannot hold the city.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “It is impossible. I have done everything I could. I even sold my soul and the city for the Union, but it does not make any difference. I cannot hold it.”

  Tears streamed down his face. He needed to tell someone his fears. He had held them in for so long, even hiding the full truth from Zophia these many months. Now it was all coming out. He fell to his knees and wrapped his arms around her legs, sobbing, holding her close. He felt her hands on his back and neck, rocking him back and forth, not understanding but holding him in support.

  “Constantine, I have never seen you like this. Why are you feeling this way?”

  “I always feel this way. But I try to hold hope for the city. But I do not see any hope now. No real aid has come from the west. Now there is a huge Turkish fleet which will stop any aid from reaching the city, even food, let alone more men. The Ottoman army is huge, many times larger than I expected. And they have cannon. Giovanni has worked miracles and I have no doubt he will be able to repel some of the breaches, but for how long? How long before we have lost too many men? Sphrantzes just told me we have only 7,000 men for the defense of the city. I thought we had 15,000 or more. I cannot hold the city with 7,000 men. It cannot be done.”

  Zophia held him more tightly, letting him fall apart for a few minutes, giving him strength.

  “Constantine my love, you know what you have to do. There is always hope. God can and will deliver this city if that is His will. You are the people’s strength. If you lose faith the city will fall. I know I am the only person you can show your fear to. It must remain that way. You must dry your tears, show your courage, and lead your people. But I ask you for me, do not give up your faith.”