Sitt Hatun nodded. 'You shall have a place in my household. Come, we shall retire to my apartment, and I will show you where you are to live.' Once they reached Sitt Hatun's apartments, she took Anna aside in her private chamber. 'Tell me,' Sitt Hatun commanded, whispering so as not to be overheard, 'is something wrong?'
Anna nodded, her eyes downcast. 'Your friend, Cicek, is dead.'
'How? What happened?'
'Gulbehar accused Cicek of spying and thieving. Last night, men came and took her. She screamed for help, but they cut out her tongue. They tied her in a bag and threw her in the river.' Sitt Hatun could only nod her understanding as tears filled her eyes. Cicek had paid the price for her own foolishness. She dug her nails into her palms and clenched her jaw tight to prevent herself from sobbing.
'There is more,' Anna continued. 'Gulbehar is furious over the disappearance of the kumru kalp. She suspects that Cicek gave it to you, and that you know about her and Murad. You are in grave danger, My Lady. I know Gulbehar. She will not rest until you are dead.'
Chapter 7
The sun had long since set on a cold January day when Longo arrived at the palazzo of Signor Grimaldi to attend the feast being held in honour of the ambassadors from Constantinople. At the gate he dismounted and handed his horse over to William. He watched as the boy hurried off to the stables, no doubt eager to gamble away his few coins with the other squires. William disappeared into the stables, and Longo entered the grand hall of the palazzo Grimaldi.
An enormous chandelier bedecked with innumerable tiny crystals hung from the ceiling, its many flickering candles shedding a glittering light. Candelabras lined the walls, adding to the bright glow. A long table ran down the centre of the room, and around it sat the chiefs of the great families of Genoa. At the top of the table, Grimaldi sat beside his eldest son, Paolo, and they both nodded in greeting as Longo's eyes met theirs. The foot of the table was reserved for the Greek ambassadors, and it was still empty.
Longo spoke to a few men with whom he was on good terms and then took his seat beside his future father-in-law, Grimaldi. 'How are your vineyards?' Grimaldi's son Paolo asked, a trace of a smirk around his lips. Yesterday, someone had set fire to the dry winter vines in Longo's vineyards, forcing Longo to miss the council meeting called to discuss the Greeks' request for troops. Longo suspected that the fire had been set precisely to keep him absent.
'The fire damaged some of my newer nebbiolo plantings – a great blow,' Longo replied. He locked eyes with Paolo before continuing. 'But do not worry on my account, Paolo. I will find who set the fire soon enough, and they will answer for it. As they say, those who play with fire are apt to get burned.'
The moment of tension was interrupted by a blast of trumpets. The men around the table stood as the double doors leading to the hall from the palazzo were opened. The first ambassador to walk through was an elderly man, well preserved, with a long, white beard. 'Andronicus Bryennius Leontarsis,' the herald announced.
Leontarsis moved into the hall, and following him, to Longo's great surprise, came the enchanting young woman he had met at the emperor's palace in Constantinople. 'Princess Sofia Dragases,' the herald intoned. She was elegantly dressed in a tight-waisted caftan of buttery-yellow silk and wore a thin golden tiara woven into her long black hair. What was she doing here? Longo wondered.
Leontarsis and Sofia sat, and the Genoese followed suit. Immediately, servants stepped forth carrying an enormous platter on which sat a whole roasted boar. A low buzz of conversation sprang up around the table. Longo half-listened to the talk around him, while keeping his eyes on Sofia at the far end of the table. Finally, after the last course had been served, the room quieted. The real purpose of the gathering had arrived.
Ludovico Fregoso, the Doge of Genoa, stood and raised his glass. 'To our honoured guests and to the prosperity of their fair city,' he toasted, and the assembled company drank.
Fregoso sat, and Leontarsis rose in turn. 'To our Genoese allies, we thank you for your friendship and support,' he toasted. There was some grumbling when he said 'allies', and not all of those at the table drank the toast.
'Your words are kind,' Fregoso said to Leontarsis, speaking in a voice loud enough so that all could hear. 'We have always prized the friendship of the Roman emperor, and I am sure that many Genoese will rush to your aid if ever there is need.'
'Many Genoese?' Leontarsis asked. 'And what of Genoa herself? Will the republic stand beside Constantinople?'
'If the Turks attack,' Fregoso replied, 'then the Republic of Genoa will offer the services of a ship and crew to Constantinople, to serve as a link to the world and as a scourge upon the Turks.' One ship. Longo was not surprised, but he was still disappointed.
'We thank you for your promise of help,' Leontarsis said, 'and if the day comes when the Turks attack, we hope that many brave Genoese will rally around this one ship.'
That seemed to settle the matter. The men around the table had gone back to their food and private conversations when Sofia spoke out loudly. 'I should think that the Genoese would leap at the chance to defend Constantinople,' she said. 'After all, you would be defending not just the Empire of the Romans, but your colony of Pera as well. Surely you would not want to lose your door to the East?'
'What do you know of such matters, woman?' Paolo snorted and took a long drink of wine. 'You should save your talk for the bedroom.' Sofia flushed crimson as quiet laughter spread around the table.
'That is quite enough, Paolo,' Grimaldi said. 'I apologize for my son's lack of courtesy, Princess. But he is right. Fighting the Turks will only antagonize them. I regret to say it, but Pera will perhaps be more secure if the Turks take Constantinople. They at least have the strength to protect our interests there.'
'You truly believe your colonies will be safe in the hands of the Turks?' Sofia demanded. 'The Venetians thought the same of Salonika, but the Turks took it all the same. No, signor, you should not be so fast to trust the Turks.'
'Hear, hear!' Umberto Spinola shouted from the centre of the table. 'The Turks are heathens!' he slurred, obviously drunk. 'We should not deal with the devil.'
'The Turks may be heathens, but no more so than the people of Constantinople,' replied the powerful Signor Adorno. 'They have rejected union with the one true Church for years now. Why should we fight and die for men that spit on our religion?' There was mumbled assent at this remark.
Longo stood. 'Enough! I have fought the Turks. I have stood face to face with them, and I know the difference between a Turk and a Greek. I have already pledged my sword to Emperor Constantine's service. If Constantinople is attacked, then I will defend its walls.' He drew his sword and laid it on the table. 'Who will stand beside me?' He looked at the men around the table and then at Sofia. She nodded her thanks.
There was silence as men shifted in their seats. Finally a young noble, Maurizio Cattaneo, stood. He was followed by a few others – the two di Langasco brothers and the three Bocchiardo brothers. They were all young men with little in the way of inheritance, who had nothing to lose by selling their lives in foreign lands. None of them would bring many troops to the battle, but Longo was glad for their support nevertheless. One by one, they drew their swords and laid them on the table.
'On behalf of the emperor, I thank you all for your courageous offer,' Leontarsis told them. 'But please, keep your swords for now. You may have need of them.' The men sheathed their swords and sat. 'I would also like to thank Signor Grimaldi, our host tonight, and all of those who have made us feel welcome in this city. Our emperor will be most pleased, and Constantinople will always have a place in its heart for Genoa. To Genoa!' he concluded, raising his glass.