Longo turned to Notaras. 'If you still wish to duel, I suggest that we wait until tomorrow,' Longo said. 'Now is not the time.'
'There will be no duel,' Notaras responded. 'You saved my life. I will not tarnish my honour by taking yours.'
'And Sofia? What will become of her?'
'I will say nothing. You can have her,' Notaras said and walked away. Dawn was breaking when Sofia finally returned to her chambers. Constantine had insisted that she stay in his quarters until the palace had been searched, and he was certain that all of the Turks were gone. When Sofia reached her chambers, she found Notaras waiting for her, his face hard and unreadable.
'Notaras, what are you doing here?' Sofia asked.
Notaras did not reply. Instead he strode across the room and slapped her so hard that Sofia tasted blood. She sank to the floor, holding her cheek. Notaras spat at her feet. 'There is nothing between us anymore,' he said. 'You are not worthy of me.' He strode past her to the door.
'Notaras,' Sofia called after him, and he stopped at the doorway. 'I am sorry. I did not mean to hurt you.'
Notaras turned, and Sofia could see that his eyes were shining. 'Then we are both sorry, Princess,' he said and left. Gennadius was awakened before dawn by the sound of a single pair of footsteps approaching down the long stone corridor that led to his prison cell. The footsteps stopped outside his cell, and he heard keys jangling. As the key clanked in the lock, Gennadius sat up, trying to look as composed as possible after ten days without a bath or a change of clothes. The door swung open. Squinting against the sudden brightness from the torchlight that flooded the cell, Gennadius could make out the features of Notaras. The megadux looked far from pleased.
'Good-morning, Notaras,' Gennadius said. 'What brings you to my humble quarters at this early hour?'
'You are free to go, monk.'
'Then what I told you about Sofia was true?'
Notaras nodded. 'Now, Gennadius, tell me of your plan to kill the sultan. I am ready to listen.'
Chapter 20
TUESDAY 8 MAY TO WEDNESDAY 23 MAY 1453, CONSTANTINOPLE: DAYS 38 TO 53 OF THE SIEGE
As the sun rose, Mehmed stood on a hill just out of reach of Constantinople's cannons and watched as the headless bodies of his troops were tossed over the walls, one after another. The bodies would lie at the base of the wall and rot, a grisly barrier intended to dispirit Mehmed's troops when they attacked. Mehmed had been standing there since late the previous night, when he had ordered the attack through the tunnels. He had sworn to himself that he would stay until he had seen every last body come over the wall. That was the punishment for his failure.
An ear-splitting boom caused Mehmed to clap his hands over his ears. There was a loud rumbling and just to his left, a one-hundred-yard long stretch of earth running from the wall towards the Turkish camp collapsed. As the rumbling faded, Mehmed could hear cheering coming from the walls of Constantinople. A few seconds later there was another loud boom, and another long line of earth collapsed in a cloud of dust.
'Great Sultan,' a messenger panted as he arrived at Mehmed's side. 'The Christians have discovered our tunnels.'
'Yes, I can see that,' Mehmed replied. One of the miners that the Christians had captured must have talked. And now, after weeks of digging, all that work was wasted. Over the next hour Mehmed watched as one by one, each of the Turkish mines into the city was destroyed. He consoled himself by imagining that each headless body that fell from the walls of Constantinople was the corpse of one of the miners who had betrayed him. Finally, the last of the Turkish soldiers was cast over the walls. There was renewed cheering from Constantinople, and then nothing.
Mehmed had seen enough. 'Tell my generals and viziers to meet me in my tent,' he told the messenger. But Mehmed did not go immediately to join his generals. Instead he walked through the Turkish camp with Ulu trailing behind. Dressed as a simple janissary, Mehmed drew little attention. After all, most of his troops had never seen him face to face. Everywhere he saw men with pinched faces and vacant eyes, speaking little except to grumble about the interminable siege. Mehmed joined a group of janissaries who were breakfasting before a fire. Ulu stayed out of sight just beyond the ring of firelight.
'I just got off watch,' Mehmed said. 'Spare a bite to eat?'
The grizzled old veteran who was tending the cooking pot gave Mehmed a long look, but then scooped a ladle of some white, runny substance from the pot and poured it into a bowl. He handed it to Mehmed along with a piece of rock-hard peskimet biscuit. 'Eat your fill, or as much as you can stomach.'
Mehmed snapped off a piece of the peskimet and scooped up some of the concoction. He placed it in his mouth and nearly gagged at the taste. He chewed doggedly and then forced himself to swallow. 'You don't like it?' the veteran asked. 'It's the best I can do with the supplies they give us. Every day the food gets worse. But he doesn't care.' He nodded towards the sultan's tent in the distance and then looking pointedly at Mehmed: 'He eats like a soul in paradise while we're left with this slop.'
Mehmed stubbornly took another bite. 'A small price to pay for the glory and riches that will be ours when the city falls,' he said. The men around the campfire burst into laughter.
'That's rich,' the man next to Mehmed said. 'You sound just like the sultan.'
'The only thing likely to fall around here is us,' another added. 'Just look at what happened last night. The sultan's brilliant plan cost us another hundred of our best men, slaughtered without a chance in those damned tunnels.'
'I fought in his father's army,' the old veteran added. 'If Murad couldn't take the city, then what chance does this boy think he has?'
Mehmed put the bowl aside and stood. 'Thank you for the meal,' he said stiffly.
'Any time,' the old veteran retorted. 'We always have room for a fellow soldier.'
Mehmed strode away, and Ulu joined him. 'Shall I have those men beaten, My Lord?' Ulu asked.
'No. Find out who the old man is. I want him placed in charge of supplies for my troops.'
'Very well, My Lord.'
Mehmed stormed into his tent in a foul mood. Halil and his chief generals — Ishak Pasha and Mahmud Pasha — bowed as he entered. Mehmed marched straight past them and to a low table that had been covered with a lavish spread of food. He swept it on to the floor. Servants stepped forward immediately to remove the mess. 'Leave it!' Mehmed shouted, and then turned to face his advisors. 'What is this, Halil?' he snapped. 'Why am I served fine foods when my men have only filth to eat?'
'I have done my best, Your Highness,' Halil sputtered. 'The army is so large and…'
'Enough. You are no longer in charge of supplies.' Halil began to protest, but Mehmed cut him off with a wave of his hand. 'I have another task for you, Halil, something more suited to your talents.' He turned to Ishak Pasha. 'Ishak, what went wrong last night?'
'The tunnels were much more extensive than we anticipated, My Lord. It took the men some time to find their way, and by then the Christians had been alerted.'
Mehmed nodded. 'Do you think that the Christians knew of our plan?'
'No, My Lord,' Ishak replied. 'I believe they were surprised.'
'I see. Halil, have you found any spies in our army?'
'I have uncovered several traitors who have been in communication with the enemy, Your Highness.'
'Have them executed immediately. Let them be an example to all who dare betray me.'
'Excuse me, My Lord, but is that wise?' Ishak asked. 'Morale amongst the men is low. An execution could cause trouble.'
'Very well. Execute them quietly, Halil,' Mehmed ordered.
'I will do so,' Halil said. 'But Ishak Pasha is correct. The men are not happy, Your Highness. They say that this siege is cursed, that Allah does not wish us to succeed.'
'Allah? Allah does not wish it?' Mehmed's voice was rising. 'I wish it. That is all that matters.'
