'Perhaps we would do better to serve a different sultan,' Halil said. Ishak's eyes narrowed, but he said nothing, so Halil continued. 'Mehmed's child Selim is still only a babe. Until he is grown, the empire would be in the hands of those wise enough to rule it properly.'
'Rebellion then,' Ishak said, a trace of disgust in his voice. 'This is your counsel? And what of Mehmed?'
'Mehmed is young and weak. The army bears no love for him, but they will follow you. Raise the army and take the palace. I will see to it that you meet little resistance. Within a month from now Selim could be on the throne with you and I as his viziers, ruling the empire as it should be ruled.'
Ishak did not reply. He finished his tea and then rose and began to pace the room. Finally he stopped, rubbing his hands as if to wash them. 'Why have you come here?' he asked. 'We are old friends, Halil. You know that I would never betray the sultan.'
'But Mehmed is no sultan!' Halil insisted, also rising. 'You remember his first reign: consorting with that half-mad Persian heretic and ignoring the army while the Christians marched on our lands. He is no different today. Now he dreams of conquering Constantinople, this after he almost lost the battle of Kossova despite having more than twice as many men as the Christians. You were there, Ishak. You saw. Are you willing to give your life to satisfy his foolish vanity?'
'He may be a fool, but he is a brave fool,' Ishak replied. 'He led the final charge at Kossova himself and against great odds. But I would follow him were he a fool and a coward, for the choice is not mine. Allah has chosen Mehmed to be the sultan, and that is an end to the matter.'
'Even if that means that you are passed over and ignored, exiled and left to rot while men like Saruja Pasha take the place that is rightfully yours?'
'I will never raise my hand against the sultan, Halil,' Ishak said with finality. 'Never.'
Halil nodded. He had suspected as much. Still, he had one card left to play. 'This is not merely a question of your loyalty to the sultan. This is not a game that I am playing, Ishak. I know that you despise such plotting, but you cannot hold yourself aloof from this. You must choose a side. Either you are with me, or you are against me.'
Ishak turned his back on Halil. 'Then I am against you, old friend,' he said with a sigh. 'You may leave now. My servant will show you out. Allah go with you.'
'And with you,' Halil said as he left. He had expected no less. Ishak Pasha had always been a man of unshakeable integrity, a soldier with little stomach for the ugly side of politics. No, Halil was not surprised, nor was he upset. His midnight errand had ended exactly as he had hoped it would. Mehmed had hardly awakened when the chief eunuch appeared and told him that Ishak Pasha requested a private audience with him. The old soldier had arrived at sunrise and had been waiting ever since; he was adamant that he would not leave until he had seen the sultan. Mehmed hurried to dress. This promised to be a most interesting meeting.
As always, Mehmed paused at a spyhole before entering his audience chamber, and took a few seconds to examine Ishak. He stood stiff and stern, his beard neatly trimmed and his clothes the simple garb of a soldier. Even standing alone, Ishak emanated authority. He was a man that Mehmed would not want against him. After a final look, Mehmed entered the chamber and seated himself on the throne, acknowledging Ishak's bow with a wave of his hand.
'I am pleased to see you, Ishak Pasha,' Mehmed began. 'Now, what is so important that you come before me at this early hour?'
'I have learned of a plot to kill you and place your youngest son on the throne, My Lord. Last night, I was approached and asked to join the conspiracy. Of course, I felt it was my duty to inform you at once of this treason.'
'Treason?' Mehmed frowned. 'This is most serious then. Who has committed this treason?'
Ishak hesitated, and Mehmed could tell that the next words were hard for him. 'I regret to inform you that the traitor is the grand vizier, Halil Pasha.'
Mehmed nodded in satisfaction. 'I am most pleased by your loyalty, Ishak Pasha,' he said. 'It is no easy task to accuse one's friend, even though it be to protect the sultan. I see that my father was right to value you so highly. You are a man who can be trusted, and your loyalty will be rewarded.'
'Thank you, My Lord,' Ishak said and bowed.
'As for Halil, do not fear,' Mehmed continued. 'I already know everything that he said to you last night.'
'You do, My Lord? But how?'
'Because I am the one who sent him.'
'I do not understand, My Lord.'
'I will be moving against Constantinople soon, Ishak Pasha, and I need commanders who I can trust,' Mehmed explained. 'I needed to be sure of your loyalty before granting you your post. You are to be the Governor of Anatolia, and you shall remain the commander of the Anatolian Cavalry.'
'I am most grateful, My Lord,' Ishak said.
'And I am most grateful for your loyalty, Ishak Pasha. As for the conspiracy that Halil told you of, never fear: it does not exist.' That night, Halil sat alone, reading by candlelight in his private study – a secure, thick-walled room for which only he had the key. He held in his hands a coded letter from the Greek monk Gennadius. The letter represented the opportunity that Halil had been waiting for. The relationship that he had been cultivating with the rebellious monk had now paid off twofold. Originally, Halil had sent his poisons to Gennadius merely to facilitate the death of the Greek Empress-Mother Helena, and he had expected nothing more. But now Gennadius was offering up Constantinople to him on a platter, going so far as to guarantee the fall of the city so long as Halil assured Gennadius that he would be made patriarch and there would be no union between the Orthodox and Catholic churches.
The offer was too good to pass up. With Gennadius's assistance, perhaps conquering Constantinople would be possible after all. Yes, Halil decided, he would agree to Gennadius's proposal, but on one condition: the monk must see to it that Mehmed died during the siege. The task would not be too difficult for a man of Gennadius's cunning. Mehmed's spies, careful as they were, would not be able to watch over the monk. And Halil would provide Gennadius with enough information to ensure his success. Once Mehmed was dead and Constantinople had fallen, it would be Halil, as grand vizier and regent, who would rule the greatest empire in all the world. He would then gladly turn over the patriarchy to Gennadius.
His decision made, Halil burned Gennadius's letter, stamping the ashes out on the stone floor, and then took up a quill to write his coded response. He would have Isa deliver the letter to Gennadius, along with enough gold to facilitate Mehmed's death. Halil grinned wickedly to himself. How amusing, he mused, that Mehmed's dream to conquer Constantinople would actually succeed, and the success would cost the sultan his life.
Chapter 12
L ongo stood at the pier as the ship that bore Sofia glided to a stop before him. He did not know why she had returned to Genoa, nor did he care. She was here now, beautiful in a simple white cotton robe as she stepped off the ship. He hurried to greet her, and to his surprise, she threw her arms around him.
'I am so glad you have returned,' he told her. 'But why are you here? Are you not needed in Constantinople?'
'I came for you,' Sofia told him.
'You are too late,' Longo said, pulling away. 'I am married.'
'No, it is never too late.' Sofia kissed him and her mouth opened to his. 'Come with me.' She led him to his palazzo and then to his chambers, stopping before his bed and turning to face him. 'I've been thinking of you, of our kiss,' she told him.
'As have I. It is foolish, I know.'
'No, it is not.' She untied her robes and they slipped to the floor, leaving her naked. Longo's eyes moved down from the curve of her delicate collarbone, to her small but firm breasts, to the nest of auburn hair that began below her flat stomach.