Siege

'I have nothing to hide,' Gennadius replied. 'But I do have good reason to be careful. I took the tunnel to avoid you and your men. You have been poisoned against me, Notaras. I knew that you would not understand what I was doing.'

'And what exactly was that? Arranging another poisoning? Perhaps Sofia this time, or the emperor?'

Gennadius laughed. 'Don't be a fool. It is not the emperor that I wish dead, but the sultan.'

Notaras's eyes narrowed. 'Impossible,' he said. 'You could never get near him. No one can. He is surrounded by dozens of janissaries at all times.'

'No, not impossible, Notaras. Not with your help.'

'And why should I believe you? This is just another one of your tricks.'

'No, Notaras,' Gennadius protested. 'This is no trick. Together we can kill the sultan and save our city. You will be remembered forever as the saviour of the empire.'

Notaras shook his head. 'I do not believe you, Gennadius, and I will not listen to any more of your lies. I have seen enough of your treachery. You had Neophytus poison the empress-mother, and you killed him to save yourself. You would sacrifice anything or anyone to destroy the Union and become patriarch.'

'Would I, Notaras? Did Princess Sofia tell you that? You would be wise not to believe all that she says. I told you before that she could not be trusted. Each night she lies with Giustiniani, the man who has taken your rightful place as defender of the city.'

Notaras did not speak. He gestured and the dark-skinned man stepped forward and put his knife to Gennadius's throat, pressing hard enough to draw a thin trail of blood. 'Careful what you say, monk,' Notaras said. 'I shall lose my patience and have you killed before I am quite done with you.'

'Kill me if you wish, Notaras, but what I say is true,' Gennadius said, struggling to keep his voice from shaking. 'Why else do you think the emperor has confined Princess Sofia to her quarters after sunset? I informed him that something is amiss.'

'I did not know that the emperor had done any such thing.'

'There is much that you do not know, my friend. And I will not always be there to protect your interests. You must look after that woman of yours. She could be dangerous to you… to all of us.'

'You lie to save yourself,' Notaras replied coldly.

'Do I? Send your men to Sofia's chambers after nightfall. You will see if I lie.'

Notaras did not reply, but it was clear to Gennadius that he had only confirmed the megadux's fears. And those fears were eating at Notaras, undermining his better judgement, his distrust of Gennadius. Finally, Notaras waved off the dark-skinned man, who removed his knife from Gennadius's throat and used it to cut the ropes that held Gennadius's hands. Gennadius rubbed his wrists and breathed a sigh of relief.

'Very well,' Notaras said. 'I will watch Giustiniani, and if what you say is true, then I will listen to your plan to kill the sultan. But know that if this is a trick, then you will wish that you had never lived. Now come.'

Notaras rose and strode from the chamber, and Gennadius followed. The dark-skinned man trailed behind Gennadius, staying uncomfortably close. They came to a tight spiral staircase and descended three flights of stairs to a narrow, dimly lit hallway. Notaras led Gennadius to a door halfway down the hall and stopped. He produced a key, unlocked the door and held it open. Gennadius looked inside. It was a small, square cell, the floor covered with straw. Eugenius sat slumped in the corner.

'What is this?' Gennadius asked.

'Your cell,' Notaras replied, and before Gennadius had a chance to protest, the dark-skinned man shoved him from behind and sent him tumbling in. He landed hard on the floor and turned to see the door swing shut behind him. It closed with a clang, and he heard the key turn in the lock. Gennadius scrambled to his feet and rushed to the grill in the door.

'What are you doing?' he cried through the opening. 'You cannot keep me here! I am a man of God!'

'You are alive. Thank God for that,' Notaras replied. 'You will be freed when I know that what you say is true.' With that, he turned and left. Gennadius heard his footsteps retreating down the hallway, and then there was only silence.

'What do we do now?' Eugenius asked.

'Patience, my friend,' Gennadius said. 'Now we wait.' The next night there was no moon, and William could only just make out the ships closest to him as his boat glided over the dark waters of the Horn towards the Turkish fleet. To his left he could see what he thought was Longo's boat, and to the right loomed a Genoese transport, the dim outline of its huge bulk barely visible. The rest of the Christian fleet was lost in the darkness.

'Quiet now, men,' William whispered to his crew. 'Row gently.' They had wrapped their rowlocks in cloth before they left, and now the only sound was the gentle slap of waves against the side of the boat and the quiet dip of the oars in the water as they pulled away from the rest of the Christian boats and headed for their target: two ships at the far edge of the Turkish fleet. Ahead, the distant shore and Turkish ships were impossible to make out in the darkness.

They had nearly reached the far shore, and still Matthias could not see the two ships they had been assigned to burn. 'Where are they? Are we still on course?' he whispered to the man at the tiller. The man nodded. Then, far to their left, a flare went up from the Turkish shore. The men stopped rowing and turned to watch.

'What in Jesus' name is that?' the coxswain called out.

'Quiet,' William hissed. The flare fell slowly, illuminating the other Christian ships, which were grouped together some two hundred yards to port, ready to attack the heart of the Turkish fleet. William spied Longo's boat in the middle of the fleet. Giacomo Coco – the commander of the expedition – had broken clear of the rest of the ships and had almost reached the Turks. He was standing in the prow, urging his longboat forward. As William watched, a Turkish cannon barked out on the far shore, and a second later Coco's head simply disappeared. His body slumped and fell overboard just as the flare burned out, plunging the scene back into darkness.

The Turkish cannons on the far shore erupted, and the scene descended into chaos. By the intermittent flash of the cannons, William watched cannonballs skip across the water and rip through the Christian fleet, splintering hulls and sweeping sailors from their boats. He thought he saw Longo's ship pulling out of the chaos, but then lost it in the darkness. When the cannons flashed again, Longo's boat was gone.

'What should we do?' one of the men called out. 'Should we turn back?'

'No,' William replied. 'We head for the Christian fleet. The men won't last long in water that cold, and if they swim to the Turkish shore they are as good as dead. We will save as many as we can.'

'But sir,' the coxswain protested. 'The cannons will eat us alive.'

'No – listen. The cannons have stopped.' William pointed to the Turkish fleet, which was now pulling towards the Christians to finish them off. 'They won't risk hitting their own men. Now turn the boat around.'

'Aye, sir,' the coxswain said. 'Right back, left forward. Row!' he called. The boat spun around and then surged forward towards the battle. They had not rowed a hundred yards when a tall Turkish ship loomed up out of the darkness ahead of them, blocking their path to the Christian fleet. The ship was crowded with men, but all were at the far rail, attacking one of the Christian ships. They seemed not to have noticed William's small ship.

'All right, men. Let's do what we came for,' William called to his crew. 'Oars in. Not a sound,' he whispered as his boat glided up next to the Turkish ship. Quietly, they hooked on to the side of the vessel, and pulled themselves close. 'Ready the fire,' William whispered, and one of the sailors lit the fuse to a barrel of Greek fire. William let it sputter for a few seconds. 'Unhook the ship,' he whispered finally. Immediately, the Turkish ship began to drift away. 'Now!' William yelled. The men grabbed the small barrel and hurled it up and on to the neighbouring deck, where it rolled to the middle and burst into flames.