'Are you certain? You know how much depends on the Dragon.'
'Sure as sure,' Urban said. 'I'd stake my life on it.' Urban froze as the words escaped his lips. A mistake.
'Very well,' Mehmed replied. 'Your life it is, then. As for my part, I will stake your weight in gold. It will be yours if the cannon holds and the cannonball reaches the city. You may fire when ready, Urban.'
'Yes, My Lord,' Urban said. He turned back to his crew and bellowed: 'Open the palisade!' Men tugged at ropes, and the hinged door of the palisade that protected the cannon swung open. Urban was busy at the rear of the cannon. He checked the ropes holding it in place one final time, and then took up a burning slow match. 'You'll want to cover your ears, Sultan,' he said. Mehmed did so, and Urban lowered the slow match to the cannon's touch hole.
Instantly the cannon belched forth a long tongue of fire and jerked violently backwards. Even with his ears covered, the noise set Mehmed's head ringing and shook the platform. He turned to follow the flight of the massive cannonball. It seemed to float in the air for an incredibly long time as it travelled the two hundred yards to the walls. It soared over the fosse and crashed into the outer wall, which was instantly enveloped in a cloud of dust and flying debris. A split second later, the loud report of the impact came to Mehmed, and then, slowly, the dust cleared. The Christians had hung the walls with strips of leather and bales of hay and wool in the hope of absorbing the impact of cannon fire, but their precautions had done little good. The cannon had hit the wall midway up and blasted a hole clean through it. As the wind blew the last traces of dust away, the portion of the wall above the hole collapsed. The Turkish lines erupted in wild cheering.
Mehmed turned to congratulate Urban and saw that the rear of the cannon had fallen from its frame, pinning a man beneath it. Urban and his crew were at work with crowbars, desperately trying to heave the huge weight off the poor man's crushed legs. The man himself was unconscious, or dead.
'Fix it,' Mehmed said. 'I want it firing again before the sun has set.'
'What of our wager?' Urban asked tentatively, scratching his neck.
'The cannonball reached the wall, as I requested. We will call it a draw.' Urban bowed. 'Besides, I need you to get the cannon firing again. Get to it.'
'Yes, My Lord,' Urban said and began barking orders.
'Ulu, tell the other artillery commanders down the line that they may fire when ready,' Mehmed ordered. 'I want cannons firing day and night. Concentrate on the Mesoteichion. Tell the men that every time a section of the wall falls, I will reward the unit that brings it down with one hundred aspers. The walls of Constantinople have stood for more than a thousand years. Let us see how long it takes for us to bring them down.'
Chapter 14
Sofia sat on the floor of the palace library, surrounded by old books and tattered manuscripts, an ancient map spread out before her. The library windows looked out beyond the wall, and when she stood at them, she could see the Turkish batteries pounding away at the city. Her attention, however, was completely taken up with the yellowing map before her. Sofia could not fight at the walls, but that did not mean that she would not do her part to defend Constantinople. She was looking for anything that could be useful, but most of all she was looking for information about tunnels into the city. Despite persistent rumours over the decades, no such tunnels had ever been found. The map before her looked like another dead end. It detailed the cisterns, tunnels and pipes that ran under the city, but it did not show any tunnels leading beneath the walls.
A deafening crash pulled her attention from the map. The floor shook unnervingly, and she stood, prepared to run for cover. But after a few seconds, the shaking stopped. Over the past three days, Sofia has grown accustomed to the constant booming of the Turkish guns, but the occasional rending crash as a cannonball hit the palace still startled her. Fortunately, the guns firing on the Blachernae quarter were not nearly as imposing as the enormous cannon that had been placed across from the Mesoteichion.
Sofia went to the window, but the portion of the palace that she could see still looked intact in the early morning light. She was about to turn back to her books when she noticed people rushing through the square below, away from the walls. As she watched, more and more people streamed past. Where could they be going? Had the Turks breached the walls? Sofia stepped out of the library to ask a palace guard.
The hallways were empty so she headed to the palace entrance, and finding it unguarded, slipped out into the street amongst the thinning crowd. She stopped a bent old woman who was tottering past. 'Many pardons, maame,' Sofia said. 'Where is everybody going?'
'To the Acropolis to watch,' the woman replied. 'Help has come at last! Christian ships have been seen in the Sea of Marmora.' Sofia fell into step beside her.
'When were they seen?' she asked. 'Do you know where they are from?'
'A lookout spotted them at first light. Where they are from, I don't know. So long as they bring help, they could be from Hades and I would bless every one of them.'
'As would I. Thank you, maame.' Sofia hurried on past her, following the crowd. She found a spot near the southern edge of the Acropolis, high above the sea below. To the south-west, still small in the distance, she saw four tall ships making their way towards the Golden Horn under full sail, flying before the southerly breeze. Even at this distance, Sofia could make out the large red cross on a white field flying from the mast of the largest ship. But even had she not seen the cross, the response of the Turkish fleet would have been enough to tell her that the approaching ships were Christian. The fleet had left its anchorage at the Double Columns, a quay just north of Pera, and a swarm of galleys and smaller craft were rowing against the wind towards the four Christian ships. The Turkish ships moved slowly, their oars often becoming entangled with one another. Nevertheless, it was clear that they would surround the approaching ships long before the Christians reached the safety of the Golden Horn.
The Christian ships grew steadily in size and clarity, until Sofia could make out the tiny figures of men moving on the decks. She was far too distant to make out faces, but she tried nevertheless, hoping for some sign of Longo. Looking to the advancing Turkish fleet, however, she almost hoped that he had stayed in Italy.
As the sun reached its zenith, the Christian ships met the Turkish fleet off the south-east corner of Constantinople, less than a quarter of a mile from where Sofia stood. The four ships sailed headlong into the wall of advancing boats, shoving some aside and crushing others. The Christian ships towered over the smaller Turkish vessels, and from their high decks the Christian sailors rained down arrows and javelins on the Turks, while the Turks could not effectively fire back. The Turks' only option was to try to board, but they had difficulty hooking on to the swiftly moving Christian ships. The few Turkish boats that did manage to hook on promptly came to regret it. The Christians covered them with Greek fire – a viscous, clinging liquid that continued to burn fiercely even when doused with water. The oily, burning substance coated the vessels, and the Turks' frantic attempts to extinguish the flames only spread them. The Greek fire continued to burn even after the Turkish ships had sunk, leaving small puddles of fire floating amongst the waves.
Within the space of a few minutes the Christian ships had sailed through the Turkish fleet. 'They've done it!' a woman yelled, and Sofia joined in her enthusiastic cheering. The Turkish galleys threw up their sails and turned to give chase, but it seemed only a matter of time now before the Christians reached the safety of the Golden Horn.