Constantinopolis (31 page)

“My Lord there are many factors, I’m not sure what to say. . .”

“I’ve asked for the truth, give it to me.”

“He will likely not last the night My Lord. He has lost so much blood. He also was hit so near his heart. We have taken out several pieces of metal, but that has caused more bleeding. If there is any more shrapnel we have missed, he will surely take ill and die. He may also die from all the bleeding. All we can do now is wait and pray. I will know more tomorrow.”

Constantine wanted to stay longer but he realized the defenses were critical. He rode back to the palisade and found one of Giovanni’s commanders had taken over. The Genoese men had many questions about their commander. Constantine gave them what encouragement he could, then seeing the situation was stable at the wall, he promised to return in the morning with further news of Giovanni.

Constantine rode away from the walls and only then was able to finally consider this turn of events. He was distraught, almost without hope, perhaps more so than he had ever been in his life. The terrible omens of the past few days and his illness had sapped his strength. Now he had lost Giovanni. He realized how much the Genoan’s leadership, knowledge, and even personality had maintained the morale of the men at the wall. Constantine felt confident that his men knew enough after all of these weeks to patch up the palisade as it was damaged, but if there was a major attack, would the men stay and fight without their commander?

His despair began to simmer and turn to hot anger. He had done everything and given up everything in defense of the city. Just when it appeared that Mehmet would give up and leave, everything was falling apart. He only needed a few more days, at least he hoped so. Why was everything and everyone failing him now? He needed a miracle, something to turn the spirit of the city around.

When he arrived back at the palace he ordered Cardinal Isidore to be summoned immediately. Constantine changed out of his blood splattered clothing, ate dinner alone and waited. It was near midnight when Isidore appeared. Constantine met him in the great hall, sitting formally on his throne. Isidore entered wearing his formal Cardinal robes and hat, shimmering in scarlet. His face was visibly shaken and he was clearly wondering about this ominous summons. He bowed deeply. “My Lord, thank you for asking me here. How may I serve you?”

“Where are my ships?”

“Excuse me My Lord, can you be more specific?”

“Yes, where are my God dammed promised ships?”

Isidore’s face lost all of its color. “These things take time. I’m sure they will be here any day now.”

“No they will not.”

“How can you know that?”

“I sent a ship out secretly to search. There are no ships gathering, even out in to the Islands past the straits. You promised aid, your Pope promised aid. I gave you everything, you have given me nothing!”

“My Lord, you have to realize that these things can take time, if only you have more patience.”

“More patience! Your relief fleet, if such a thing ever existed, will do nothing more than bring food and arms to the Turks! I have trusted you and you have failed me. Get out of my sight! Get out of my cathedral. I will be conducting the Greek mass there tomorrow. You are to vacate St. Sophia tonight.”

“My Lord, you cannot mean that. Such an action would be an incredible betrayal of your word. You have promised union, you cannot go back on your word.”

“You are wrong Isidore. I am Emperor and I will do as I wish. I might only rule this city but here my word is law. Get out tonight. If you are there tomorrow, I will turn you loose outside the walls with all your priests. You can try a union with the Turks if you wish.”

Isidore bowed again and quickly left. Constantine sat back in his throne and laughed out loud. Suddenly he felt a great weight lifting off him. He was true to his people again. They might be alone, and they might all die alone but they would have their faith, they would have their church. They would pray together, and celebrate God’s sacred and true mass again. He would be Constantine again and they would be his people.

MONDAY, MAY 28, 1453

Constantine woke on Monday, May 28 feeling refreshed. He had slept through the night with no nightmares and no interruptions. He felt better than he had since before the siege began. He dressed quickly and ordered his horse brought round. He left early with his guard and rode to the hospital to check on Giovanni.

Miraculously, his friend was not there. Not only had Giovanni survived the night, but to the amazement of his caretakers, he had insisted on getting up this morning and returning to the walls. This news was against all hope for Constantine. He rode out to the walls and found Giovanni. The Genoan was still badly hurt, and directing activities at the wall from a chair he had had brought up to the tower. He smiled on seeing Constantine.

“I am not in hell yet.”

“I am sure when it is your time you will be in paradise my friend,” responded Constantine. He was so happy to see Giovanni alive and at the wall. The chances of the city surviving another attack was so much greater with him here leading the defenses. “What are the Turks up to today?”

“Good question. They are up to something that is for sure. Apparently there were all kinds of movement last night, various groups getting into position. They have kept up a very heavy cannonade all day today. I think there is another assault coming. However they are not massing their men this morning. I would predict the attack will come tomorrow at dawn. We will be ready in any event, but I do not think anything will happen until sunrise tomorrow.”

“Thank you for your thoughts. I will be away from the walls today and tonight. I will send word where you can find me if anything happens. I will be back at the walls in the morning before first light.”

Constantine left Giovanni at noon and rode out into the city. He inspected his men all along the wall, shaking hands and inquiring about the health and supplies of the forces. He also spoke with Greek merchants and citizens as he encountered them near the walls, inviting them to come to St. Sophia that evening. Many had already heard and thanked Constantine for giving them back their cathedral. All enthusiastically promised to attend.

Constantine returned to the palace near evening. He put on his best royal cloak and his finest golden crown of leaves. He left the palace at twilight and traveled with his guards through the streets of Constantinople. He was greeted by enthusiastic cheers. The morale of the city had changed drastically as news spread that Constantine had rescinded the Union. He had forged his own miracle.

He arrived at the porch of St. Sophia before a huge waiting crowd. The roar of greeting was deafening. He waved and smiled, the happiness of the people filling him with even greater peace. He looked around everywhere for Zophia, but did not find her among the people.

He dismounted and walked slowly through the crowd, shaking hands. People reached out to touch him, to feel his robes. They blessed him and uttered prayers for him and the city. He made his way into the cathedral and up to the second level to his royal seat overlooking the sanctuary below.

After the huge crowd had jammed into St. Sophia and taken their places, the Greek priests entered to tremendous cheering. They quickly called for silence and the mass began.

Constantine could feel the tangible joy of the people as they worshiped together in their great cathedral for the first time in so many months. This and the great danger facing the people made each moment of ceremony contain greater, deeper meaning. Even Constantine, who was practical about his religion, was deeply moved by the ceremony. He felt great peace and calm coming over him as he looked down on his people. They were no longer the beggars of the West, giving themselves up to whichever master promised assistance. They were standing alone as Greeks, even if just for this moment of time. Constantine felt complete, ready for whatever would come. But he had one more thing to do, or rather undo.

He left the cathedral after the mass, again carried through the enthusiastic crowd. He mounted his horse and sent his guard away, all save one. He rode quietly through the dark streets, enjoying the peace and calm. Finally he arrived at Zophia’s. He dismounted and banged on the door. Gently at first and then with greater urgency. She answered, showing no surprise that he was there.

“I expected you at St. Sophia’s tonight.”

She smiled. “Interesting, I expected you here.”

“I have undone the union.”

“I know.”

“You must know the rest then.”

“I know it, but you must say it.”

He smiled in return. “I renounce any betrothal inquiries. I will look no more to any foreigner for a marriage of advantage. I want you. I need you. You are all I have ever needed.” He began to cry, falling to his knees before her, holding her legs tightly to him. He felt her hands on his head, gently caressing his hair.

“I am yours then my Lord. I have always been yours.”

Constantine composed himself and ordered his remaining guard to inform Giovanni where he would be in case of an emergency. He was just finished when Zophia dragged him inside, kissing him passionately and whispering gentle words of love.

Monday, May 28, 1453

Mehmet sat astride his horse with Zaganos near the walls of Galata. They had spent the morning inspecting Zaganos’s original command across the Golden Horn from the main force. Mehmet had ordered a day of prayer and quiet rest before the massive attack, which was scheduled for shortly after midnight. They would attack in the dark. He had instructed the commanders that they would attack in waves, starting with the most expendable men and with each wave moving toward his most elite forces. The waves would replace each other to give the previous wave an opportunity to rest. He had ordered that they would continue this attack over and over until the city fell. There would be no stopping. Of course he realized that there was a limit. At some point, within a few hours, his men would grow too exhausted to continue the fight. He had perhaps eight hours to win the city from the beginning of the attack. If he failed, he would have to quit the city. If that happened and he was lucky, he would merely be under Halil’s thumb. If he was unlucky, Halil would have him assassinated. Everything depended on this attack.

The cannon boomed across the Golden Horn. He could see smoke rising from the city walls where the bombardment was striking the city. He knew all of the activity the past few days must have exhausted the defenders. By ordering an attack at night, rather than in the morning, he hoped to further surprise the Greeks.

He rode up near the walls of Galata, smiling at the nervous reaction of the few guards above. He knew despite the messages of neutrality he had received that in reality most of the men had crossed the Horn to defend Constantinople. He observed the walls of the Genoan city for some time, and the tall Tower of Christ. They would be his in time. Without Constantinople, Galata could never survive.

After a time, he turned his horse and rode out with Zaganos around the end of the Horn and over to the main Ottoman camp before the land walls of Constantinople. The atmosphere was quiet as he passed the tents of common soldiers. He watched his men carefully as he went by, trying to gauge their emotions. Were they afraid? Angry? Hopeful? Determined? They were determined, he realized. That was the emotion he saw in them. It was as if they shared this great moment with him, as if they realized that if they failed he would fail. He felt closer to his people than he ever had, and he realized for the first time in his life they were one with him. Perhaps it was not love, but it was shared commitment and a respect for him as their leader. He struggled to contain his emotions. He felt his eyes tearing up. What was this? He would never let his men see him weep. He could never allow it. He must be strong, he must never lose control.

He reached his tent, dismounted and entered his tent alone. He knelt to his knees and prayed to Allah, thanking him for this great fortune, this sign of blessing. In a moment of clarity he realized that perhaps even more than the city, the respect of his people meant everything to him. Mehmet bowed his head into the cushions and sobbed. He cried for the first time in years, allowing himself to release all the fear and control. He wept silently into the cushions, muffling his emotions. He cried out in silence to his father. His body shook. He was so scared he realized. What if he failed? Death seemed so near suddenly. He did not want to die. He had killed so frequently but he had always felt protected. He was the Sultan after all.

“Sultan, may I speak with you?”

Mehmet bolted upright. He was shocked to be disturbed and terrified by who was disturbing him. Thankfully he was facing away from the entrance and could not be seen immediately. He simply appeared to be praying. He wiped his eyes against the cushions in a fluid motion as he pulled himself up. He then turned to face his Grand Vizier. “Halil, what may I do for you?”

“Sultan, I have come to plead with you in private to reconsider.”

Mehmet’s full guard was up. Why was Halil here? Did he come with others? Was he making his move even before the last attack? He must be careful. His life depended on it.

“Reconsider what?”

“This next attack, Sultan. You may break the spirit of your army and lose the last faith of your counsel. If that happens I cannot guarantee your safety.”

“What do you suggest?”

“Let us pull back now. We still have most of our forces. The men have lost morale but you cannot be blamed for that. We will assign blame to the brashness of youth. Yes, you went against my advice but you are young. Who can blame you? We will go North and ransack a few Serbian towns. A victory or two and the people will forget.”

“That would satisfy you?”

“Of course My Sultan, I live only to advise you. If you let me guide you in these things, I will give you the greatness you desire. I helped your father rule the world. I can do the same for you. But you have always treated me as an enemy. I am your greatest friend! Or more like an uncle perhaps. A disappointed uncle at times yes, but a loving one. I have watched you make your mistakes and you have fought me when I have tried to give you advice.”