could recover his balance, Longo rose and drove the bolt into the janissary's throat. Ulu dropped his sword and staggered backwards, clutching at his neck. He pulled the bolt out, and a fountain of blood gushed after it. Ulu stared at the bolt for a moment, and then tumbled forward, dead.
Longo picked up his sword, took a few steps, and then collapsed beside Ulu. He looked down to where each beat of his heart was pumping more and more blood out of the wound in his chest. He let his sword fall from his hand and waited for one of the janissaries to finish him. But to his surprise, none attacked. Instead, they kept a wide berth, looking at him with expressions of open-mouthed awe. One of the janissaries cried out in alarm that Ulu had fallen, and as word of Ulu's death spread, the Turkish attack began to falter. Longo watched as many of the janissaries near him began to retreat. Those that fought on seemed confused and unsure of what to do. Not far from Longo, Constantine had rallied the men and was beginning to push back the janissaries.
'Longo!' someone called, and Longo looked to see William running towards him.
'William,' Longo gasped, wincing in pain as he spoke. 'Where is Sofia?'
'In the city,' William said as he knelt beside Longo. 'You're hurt! We have to get you out of here. Can you stand?'
Longo nodded. 'You should not have left her,' he said, gritting his teeth as he grabbed his sword and struggled to his feet with William's help. He stood unsteadily, covering the wound in his chest with his left hand. 'She may be in danger.'
'She made me come, and I'm glad she did. You wouldn't have lasted much longer out here. Now come on. Let's get back to the line.'
With William's help, Longo staggered to where Constantine and Dalmata had formed a new line of troops and were pushing the Turks back towards the gap in the outer wall. As Longo and William passed through the line, Constantine stepped away from the battle to join them.
'Longo, you're alive!' he exclaimed, then frowned as he noticed Longo's wound. 'Are you all right?'
'I live,' Longo grunted. He shrugged off William's help. 'I will fight so long as I can stand.'
Constantine looked at Longo sceptically. 'That is no minor wound, Longo. There is nothing more that you can do here.'
'It is my duty to fight,' Longo insisted. 'I will not fail you.'
'You have not failed me, Longo. You have done all that you can. Now, there is only one last thing that I ask of you: go to Sofia, make sure that she is safe.' Longo began to protest, but Constantine held up his hand, cutting Longo off. 'Say nothing. I have eyes, and I am not a fool, Longo. I know love when I see it. Go to her. I will hold the wall.'
'Thank you, Emperor,' Longo said. The two men clasped hands, and then the emperor returned to the battle. Longo turned to William. 'I will look after Sofia,' he told him. 'You may stay and fight if you wish.'
'And leave you on your own? Not a chance.'
'Very well,' Longo said. 'We must hurry. Sofia may have need of us.'
Chapter 24
TUESDAY 29 MAY 1453, CONSTANTINOPLE: THE FINAL DAY OF THE SIEGE
Sofia crouched on the floor, wedged in a tight space behind a chest and beneath a broad windowsill. She concentrated on breathing steadily and quietly, despite the violent beating of her heart. Two Turks in full armour had just burst into the single room of the house where she was hiding and were ransacking it for loot. She heard the larger of the two men walk towards her. He stopped before the chest and pulled it open.
'There's nothing here,' he said in Turkish. He slammed the lid closed and moved away. 'Let's move on.'
Sofia peeped out and watched as he strode to the door. The other Turk was sawing at a candlestick with his knife, trying to determine if it was solid gold. He was short and thin, with a large wart on his cheek. He looked up, and his eyes met Sofia's.
'What have we here?' he said, dropping the candlestick. 'Finally, a real treasure.'
Sofia wriggled out from behind the chest and drew her sword. 'Stay back,' she warned in accented Turkish. 'Or you will regret it.'
'We don't have time for her,' the larger Turk said from the door. 'Let's gather what treasure we can before the rest of the army arrives to pick the city clean.'
'Nonsense,' the thin Turk insisted. 'This one will fetch a pretty price at the market once we're done with her. Besides, there's still plenty of time to have a bit of fun before the city falls.' He loosened his belt and stepped towards Sofia.
'I am a princess,' Sofia told them, raising her sword. 'Do not dare touch me!'
'A princess?' the larger Turk repeated. He drew his sword and joined his comrade. 'Then you should be worth a pretty penny indeed.' Gennadius knelt before the altar in the chapel of the church of Saint Saviour in Chora, his head bowed as if in prayer. The church stood only fifty yards inside the high walls of the Mesoteichion, and Gennadius could clearly hear the clash of arms, the screams of the wounded and the battlecries of 'Allah! Allah! Allah!' Behind him, women, children and men too old to fight huddled together in fear and prayed for their city. But Gennadius's mind was not on prayer. He was waiting impatiently for Eugenius's return. If all had gone as planned, then the prayers of the people here would do them little good. Constantinople would fall, and Gennadius would be made patriarch. Finally, the Union would be dead, and he would drive the Latins from the city once and for all.
Gennadius heard the door of the chapel swing open, and a moment later Eugenius knelt beside him. 'It is done,' Eugenius whispered. 'The Turks are in the city.'
'And the thieves you hired?' Gennadius asked. 'There must be no witnesses to what we have done.'
'They have been trapped and drowned in one of the cistern's flood rooms.'
'Well done, Eugenius. What you have done will win you favour in the eyes of God. Now there is only one thing left to do. Come with me.' Gennadius rose and led the way out of the back of the chapel to a staircase that spiralled up to the bell tower. He gestured for Eugenius to go first and then followed him up the stairs. 'I wish to thank you for your many services over the years,' Gennadius said as they climbed. 'You have been a faithful friend.'
'I have only sought to serve our Lord.'
'And you have. Our Father will welcome you in heaven.' Gennadius grabbed Eugenius from behind, covering his mouth with one hand while he slit his throat. He released him, and Eugenius slid to the floor, his eyes wide and his mouth working silently as blood poured from his neck. Gennadius made the sign of the cross over him. 'I am sorry, my friend, but no one can know what I have done. God have mercy on your soul.' He wiped his dagger on Eugenius's robes and then continued up the spiralling staircase.
The stairs ended in a small, dark room. A single ladder led to a hatch in the ceiling. Gennadius climbed up into daylight, emerging into a belfry, open on all sides. High above him hung the heavy bronze church bell. Gennadius went to the railing nearest the walls. From this height he had a good view of the Mesoteichion, and he could see that the fighting beyond the gate was fierce. However, the Christians seemed to be holding their ground. In fact, they appeared to be pushing the Turks back. Despite all he had done, the walls of Constantinople were holding.
Gennadius pulled a broad piece of white cloth from his robes and tied it to the side of the belfry. It unfurled in the breeze, revealing a Turkish battle flag — a white background with golden lettering in Turkish script. Then Gennadius turned back to the bell and seized hold of the thick bell rope. 'What I do, I do in your name, O Lord,' he said. 'Have mercy on my soul.' 'We have them now. For Constantinople! God is with us!' Constantine roared as he led another Christian charge. Dalmata ran at his side, and the two of them fought like men possessed, hacking their way through the Turkish ranks. Inspired by their example, the other Christians surged after them, and the janissaries fell back faster and faster. Constantine and his men reached the gap in the outer wall of the Mesoteichion, driving the last Turks out on to the plain.
'Hold the line!' Constantine yelled, and the men stopped, spreading out across the gap. Where once they had been ten deep, now their line was spread thin, but if they could hold the gap only a little longer, then the day would be theirs. 'Stand firm, men!' Constantine shouted. 'Let no Turk pass!'
The loud tolling of a nearby bell swallowed up his last words. 'My God!' Dalmata said. 'The bells.'
'But the wall still stands.' Constantine was confused. 'What could this mean?'
