Siege

Isa bowed low, his forehead touching the ground. 'You may rise,' Mehmed said, filling his young voice with as much authority as he could muster. He wanted Isa to understand from the start that he was a man now, not the boy that Isa had known years ago. 'It pleases me to see that you are well, Isa. I had feared that you were dead these many years.'

'Many thanks for your generous welcome. I am delighted to see that the years have treated you well,' Isa began. 'As for thinking me dead: I do not wonder that you thought so. I am certain that the janissaries you sent to murder me were quite persuasive when they returned.'

'They told me you were dead,' Mehmed said. 'Were they still alive, I would have them put to death. Did you bribe them?'

'No. There was no need. I entered a tavern, and your janissaries lay in wait for me outside. I sent the tavern owner out with drink, to ease their wait. When I came out, I told them that the drink had been poisoned, and that they would only have the antidote if they did exactly as I said. They were to return and tell you that I had been killed. After that, I would have the antidote delivered to them. Of course, they were not poisoned at all, but that hardly mattered. I knew that you would have them put to death as soon as they reported back.'

'I see.' Mehmed was impressed. Isa would have to be handled with care. 'And what brings you to my palace after so many years?'

'I come on behalf of another, bearing a gift and an offer,' Isa said and unwrapped his burden, revealing a finely crafted mahogany box the size of a large book. He stepped forward and held the box out for Mehmed. Mehmed reached for the box, but then hesitated.

'Gifts from you often prove poisonous, Isa. Perhaps I should refuse this one.'

'It is only a box,' Isa said. 'But if you wish to refuse it, that is your choice.'

'And what of the offer you spoke of?'

'The offer and the gift are one and the same. You must accept the gift before I can reveal the offer.'

'Very well,' Mehmed said and took the box. Then he reconsidered and handed it back to Isa. 'You open it,' he ordered. Isa gently opened the lid. It swung back on hinges to reveal a brilliant, crystal vial containing an amber liquid. Isa presented the opened box again, and Mehmed took it. He held the vial up to the light. 'What is it? Poison?'

'A very powerful poison, and untraceable,' Isa said. 'It acts on contact with the skin and can kill in a matter of hours. Swallowed in small doses, the poison works more slowly. Depending on the strength of the victim, death can take days, or even months.'

'On whose behalf have you brought me this mighty poison?' Mehmed asked. 'And what would they have me do with it?'

'A friend from Edirne has sent it. I can tell you no more. As for its use, I wonder that you have not divined it already. After all, we both know that you are not afraid to call on poison when necessary to clear your path to the throne.'

'Are you suggesting that I would assassinate my own father?' Mehmed asked, his voice rising. 'I will have your head for this, Isa. Ulu,' he barked, and the burly janissary stepped forward, drawing his long, curved yatagan.

Isa did not so much as blink. 'If you kill me, then you will die before the day is out,' he said in a calm voice. Ulu hesitated, his sword hanging in the air.

'Ulu, desist,' Mehmed ordered. 'What do you mean, I will die?'

'Did you think that I would walk into your palace without taking precautions? The box you are holding is coated with the same poison that is in the flask. You should already be feeling its effects – a drying of your throat, a sudden tendency to sweat.' Mehmed gulped and wiped sweat from his forehead. Isa continued. 'Yes, I held the box too, so we are both poisoned. But there is an antidote. If it is administered soon, we may both live.'

'How do I know that you are not lying?'

'You do not.'

'Give me the antidote,' Mehmed ordered.

'I do not have it with me,' Isa said. 'It is in my tent at the caravanserai. Only I know where it is kept, or, indeed, what it even looks like.'

'Go then, and hurry,' Mehmed said. 'Ulu, do not let him out of your sight. If you make one false move, Isa, I swear that Ulu will kill you.'

'I understand. You should know that I have more than a hundred men in my service at the caravanserai. I will give the antidote to Ulu, but if he or anyone else makes an attempt on my life, then he will die, and you will never see the antidote.'

'Understood. Ulu will allow no harm to come to you.'

'Very well,' Isa said. 'Many thanks for this audience, Prince Mehmed. Your friend in Edirne will be most disappointed that you did not accept his offer, but I was told that you are to keep his gift regardless. May it profit you.' Isa bowed, and followed by Ulu, left the audience chamber.

Mehmed remained on his throne, clutching the box. Who was this mysterious friend in Edirne who wanted his father dead? And did they really think that Mehmed would be fool enough to accept their offer? Had he actually been poisoned or was this all a game on Isa's part? Mehmed shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts. He would have spies follow Isa. In the meantime, there was this box and the poison it carried.

Mehmed rose from the throne and passed into his private chambers. He opened a cabinet on the wall, revealing a copy of the Koran in a golden case. He removed the Koran and reached into the back of the cabinet, pressing a hidden latch. The back of the cabinet swung open, revealing a small space containing stacks of gold coins, several bottles of wine and various private papers. Mehmed placed the box inside and then closed the hidden compartment and replaced the Koran. No, he would not be fool enough to poison his father. But, he would keep the poison all the same. One day, perhaps, it would prove useful.

SEPTEMBER 1449: EDIRNE

Halil stood behind a beaded curtain, his arms crossed and his fingers drumming impatiently as he waited for Isa to arrive. Halil had little time to himself, and any absence from the palace of more than an hour was sure to be noticed. He had already been waiting for Isa here, in the back rooms of the rug merchant Farzam's shop, for over fifteen minutes, and he could not wait much longer. To pass the time, he had been imagining devious means of punishing Isa for his tardiness – scalding his eyes with hot irons, drawing his fingernails, dipping his toes in acid. Halil was on the point of leaving and ordering one of these cruel tortures carried out when Isa stepped into the room across the curtain, slapping his clothes to remove the layers of dust that had settled on them during the long ride from Manisa. Isa looked tired and worn, but he did not look afraid. That was good: it meant that he must have succeeded. Halil stepped through the beaded curtain.

'You are late, and you have been followed,' Halil snapped. 'Mehmed's spies were seen riding behind you as you entered town. No doubt they are waiting outside even now. If they see us together, it will mean my head.'

'My apologies, Halil,' Isa replied. 'I had no idea that I was followed, else I would never have led the men here.'

'I am sure,' Halil muttered. 'But no matter. You will leave first, from the front, and I will use the hidden door. There is little danger that Mehmed's spies will see me. For your family's sake, I hope that they do not.' Isa's jaw clenched at this, and his eyes narrowed dangerously. 'I trust your journey was a success,' Halil continued. 'The Greek monk seems to have received his drug. My spies in Constantinople report that the empress-mother has taken ill.'