The men around the table nodded, and Mehmed continued. 'You will each move your men into position tomorrow. Baltoghlu, you will bring the fleet here, to block the Bosphorus and to control the entrance to the Golden Horn. You will cut off any ships that try to bring aid to the city. Ulu, you will place the janissaries along the Lycus, across from the Blachernae quarter and the Mesoteichion. Ishak Pasha, you will position your men along the wall to the south. Kardja Pasha, you will place our European allies across the Golden Horn, to cut off any possible Christian retreat. Mahmud Pasha, you will hold your bazibozouks in reserve behind the lines, until such time as they are needed.'
'When do we attack?' Mahmud Pasha asked.
'Soon enough. But first we must weaken the walls. Urban, when will your cannons be in place?'
'I need a few days more,' Urban said. 'The mud has made moving the cannons difficult. When they are in place though, they'll knock down the walls of Babylon itself.'
'You have seven days,' Mehmed told him. 'Take as many men as you need.'
'Yes, My Lord.'
'Seven days?' Mahmud Pasha asked. 'But Sultan, my men have come here to fight. They will not like this standing around.'
'Never fear, Mahmud Pasha. I plan to keep your men quite busy. Take a look at these plans.' Mehmed took up an old, battered scroll and unrolled it across the table.
There was silence as the men took in the detailed, sometimes fantastical sketches: ships on land, floating bridges, networks of tunnels. They were all in the sultan's own hand. It was Ishak Pasha who spoke up first. He pointed to the sketch of the ships, apparently sailing across land into the Golden Horn. 'Forgive me, Sultan, but is this even possible?'
'There is no question of possible, Ishak Pasha,' Mehmed said. 'It will be done. You have three weeks to make this happen, no more. I am sure that you will not fail me.' Gennadius wound his way through the dark catacombs beneath the Church of Saint Saviour Pantocrator, a torch lighting his way amidst the dank crypts. He was wrapped in a black cloak instead of his monk's robes, and he had left behind the conspicuous golden cross that usually hung from his neck. Eugenius followed, dressed much the same except that he wore a sword at his side. If they were seen by the men that Notaras had stationed outside the monastery, Gennadius hoped that they would be taken for a merchant and his bodyguard. But Gennadius did not plan on being seen.
They came to a narrow staircase and followed it down to the edge of a huge underground reservoir with a low ceiling supported by hundreds of pillars. The cistern dated from Roman times, and the monks still drew their drinking water from here. The flame of Gennadius's torch reflected off the water, causing strange lights to play across the many-vaulted ceiling. Before him, wooden walkways wound their way between the pillars and over the water, stretching off into the darkness. The walkways had not been repaired for decades, and the wood was slowly rotting in the damp air. It creaked and groaned under foot as Gennadius set out across the cistern. He had only taken a few steps when he saw something long and scaly move in the dark waters beneath them. Giant fish the size of a man were said to live in the waters, and Gennadius had no desire to discover if the legends were true. He picked his way forward, carefully avoiding the loose planks.
The walkway ended at a heavy wooden door, and Gennadius produced a key and unlocked it. When he pushed the door open, bright morning sunlight poured into the tunnel. He stepped into a shallow cave that had been carved into the side of the hill that the church of Saint Saviour Pantocrator crowned. Below him, the Golden Horn sparkled in the sun. Christian ships were moored beside the great chain that had been stretched across the mouth of the Horn on wooden floats. Beyond the chain, Gennadius could see the Turkish fleet patrolling the Sea of Marmora.
A path led down from the cave to the sea walls, which ran parallel to the shores of the Golden Horn, separating the port from the city. Although not as imposing as the land walls, they were still massive, rising thirty feet high and studded with towers. And because of their position along the Golden Horn, the sea walls were impossible to take unless an enemy completely controlled the harbour. Although the walls had originally marked the limit of the city, over the centuries warehouses had been built beyond them to service the docks there, and in time taverns, inns, bawdyhouses and churches had sprung up to service the sailors who used the docks and warehouses.
Gennadius and Eugenius took the path down to the sea walls, where a guard loyal to the Synaxis let them through, and then they walked north along the docks to a small Orthodox church. There were no tunnels that Gennadius knew of directly into the city, but this church would do. A tunnel in its crypt led to the basement beneath a monastery in the nearby settlement of Cosmidion, only some two hundred yards north of Constantinople along the Golden Horn. Gennadius and Eugenius entered the church and moved to the back of the sanctuary, where a staircase led down to the crypt. There, behind a row of stone sarcophagi, they located a trapdoor with a ladder leading downwards into the darkness. Eugenius took a torch from the wall and descended first. Gennadius followed, and when he reached the floor of the tunnel he found a man waiting for him, a man from the East, with a broad, smooth face and shaved head. He held a torch in one hand and a small birdcage containing a pigeon sat at his feet. Something about the way the man looked at Gennadius unnerved the monk.
'What has brought you here, stranger?' Gennadius asked. This was the beginning of the code that he and Halil had agreed upon.
'I come seeking wisdom,' the man replied in passable Greek. It was the correct response.
'So you are Isa,' Gennadius said. 'Do you have what I asked for?'
'I have brought the poison,' Isa confirmed. He took out a small leather pouch and handed it to Gennadius. Gennadius opened it and peered inside. It was filled with white powder.
'What is this?'
'A powerful poison, made from bitter almonds,' Isa explained. 'When inhaled, the powder is fatal. The assassin need only throw it near the sultan.'
'Then it will do perfectly,' Gennadius said, carefully closing the pouch.
'Good. The grand vizier wishes to make it clear that the city is not to fall until the sultan is dead. Those are the terms of the deal. If you fulfil them, then you shall have what you wish.'
'Tell Halil not to worry. The messenger who will bring the key to unlock the city and the assassin who will kill the sultan are one and the same,' Gennadius said. 'I will send him when the time is right, when the siege has grown old and the sultan is desperate enough to listen.'
'What you do is your concern. So long as you succeed, the less that Halil knows, the better. In the meantime, if you should need to communicate with Halil, you will come here.' Isa picked up the birdcage and handed it to Gennadius. 'Use this bird to contact Halil. No message is necessary. Simply release it, and it will fly to Halil. A messenger will meet you here the night that he receives the bird, just after sunset. He will ask you a question to determine your identity. The answer is 'Edirne'.'
'I understand,' Gennadius said. He was impressed. The bird was an elegant mechanism.
'Then we are done here,' Isa said and turned to go.
'God go with you, my son,' Gennadius called after the retreating figure.