Siege

'Tristo!' William shouted. Tristo snorted and rolled away from him. William went to him and shook him awake. 'Come look at this.' Tristo joined him at the window. Just then, bells all over the city began to ring. There were renewed shouts from the crowd in the street.

'The bells… it must be an attack!' William said.

'We must get to the walls!' Tristo replied. They rushed downstairs and out into the street. Tristo saw one of Longo's men and grabbed him. 'Where are you going?' he demanded. 'You should be at your post.'

'My post?' the man asked. 'What?'

'Are you daft?' Tristo yelled, struggling to be heard over the noise of the crowd and bells. 'The Turks are attacking. You must get to the walls.'

'The Turks aren't attacking,' the man shouted back. 'It's over! The siege is over!'

'What do you mean, it's over?' William put in. 'What has happened?'

'Haven't you heard? The emperor reached terms with the grand vizier. It's over! We've won!' With that he moved off down the street.

William and Tristo looked at each other, and then embraced, Tristo lifting William clear off the ground. 'Thank God!' he roared. He put William down. 'Let's celebrate! I'm going to get famously drunk!'

'Let's find Longo first,' William said. 'I want to hear this news from him.' William and Tristo found Longo atop the wall, standing with the emperor and Dalmata. They were looking out at a pavilion that had been erected on the broad field that lay between the city walls and the front lines of sultan's army. 'Is it true?' William asked. 'Will there be peace?'

'Last night the grand vizier and Sphrantzes agreed to terms,' Longo replied. 'This morning Halil returned to request a meeting between the emperor and the sultan. They are each to be accompanied by only one guard. That is all we know.'

'What about the bells?'

'Rumours often travel faster than the truth,' Constantine said. 'And they are more easily believed, I fear.'

'Look, there he is,' Longo said. He pointed to the plain below where the sultan, accompanied only by Ulu, was riding out to the pavilion.

'Ready my horse,' Constantine said.

'Do not go, My Lord,' Dalmata urged. 'It is a trap.'

'Trap or no, I must go,' Constantine said. 'Look at their numbers.' He pointed to the Turks' endless camp, stretching away to the horizon. 'We cannot hold out forever. I must make peace with the sultan.'

'Then at least let me be the one to accompany you, My Lord.'

'No, Dalmata. I will take Signor Giustiniani.'

'But My Lord, I should be the one,' Dalmata protested.

Constantine placed his hand on Dalmata's shoulder. 'Stay here, old friend. If anything goes wrong, I want you to lead a group of riders to rescue me. And if I die, then you will protect my family.' Dalmata nodded. 'Very well then,' Constantine said. 'Come, Signor Longo. I am eager to meet the sultan face to face.'

Longo and Constantine descended from the wall to find that a crowd had gathered around the Golden Gate. The people knelt when they saw their emperor and scattered cries of 'God be with you!' and 'Bless you Constantine!' accompanied him as he mounted and rode out through the gate. He and Longo passed through the double walls and trotted out to the pavilion, a square, open-sided tent that had been set up over a red carpet. Next to the pavilion, the sultan sat astride his horse, waiting for them. Beside him was Ulu, grim and stone-faced. He showed no sign of recognizing Longo. Longo turned his attention to the sultan.

Mehmed was younger than Longo had expected, twenty or twenty-one years old at the most. He was of average height, with an athletic build and striking features: full lips, a prominent nose and high cheekbones. But Mehmed's eyes were what caught Longo's attention. Intense and penetrating, they seemed to burrow into Longo's very soul.

'Emperor Constantine,' Mehmed said in accented but correct Greek. 'Your presence is most welcome.'

'Sultan Mehmed, I am honoured to meet you,' Constantine replied. 'I hope that we can establish peace between our peoples. This siege has lasted too long.'

'I certainly agree,' Mehmed said. He gestured to Ulu. 'This is Ulubatli Hasan, the supreme aga of the janissary and my personal guard. As promised, he is unarmed. And who is this who accompanies you, emperor?'

'Count Giovanni Giustiniani Longo of Genoa and Chios, the commander of my forces,' Constantine replied.

'Ah, the defender of Constantinople,' Mehmed said, regarding Longo with renewed interest. 'You have proven yourself a worthy adversary, signor.'

Longo bowed at the compliment. 'And you, great Sultan, have shown wisdom beyond your years.'

'You flatter me, signor, but it is flattery that I am happy to receive. Now, shall we be seated?' There was a table in the centre of the pavilion, with one chair on either side. Mehmed sat in the seat on the side of the Turkish army; Constantine on the side of Constantinople. Ulu and Longo stood behind the chairs of their respective leaders. 'You have, I believe, discussed terms of a peace with Halil?' Mehmed began.

'The grand vizier and my councillor, Sphrantzes, have agreed upon terms that I am willing to accept,' Constantine replied. 'I will pay an increased tribute for three years, to cover your costs for the siege. And the pretender Orhan will be returned to your court.'

Mehmed waved his hand dismissively. 'There will be no such peace. I have not come for your money or for the head of Orhan. I have come for Constantinople.'

'But this is an outrage!' Constantine protested. 'The grand vizier…'

'The grand vizier means nothing,' Mehmed said with finality. 'I am the sultan. My word is the only one that matters. And I tell you that there can be no peace between us so long as you control Constantinople. The city is a thorn in my side and a threat to my empire. As long as it is in Christian hands, my people will never feel secure.'

'Constantinople is not mine to give,' Constantine replied sternly. 'It is the key to an empire that has lasted for over a thousand years. I will die before you set foot within its walls.'

'You are a noble man, Constantine. I expected nothing less. But know that if you choose to fight, then no quarter will be given to you or your people. Your men will be slaughtered; your women raped and sold into slavery. Their blood will be on your hands.'

'No, Sultan. It will be on yours.'

'That may be,' Mehmed agreed. 'But I can live with their blood. Can you?' Constantine made no reply, and Mehmed continued, leaning forward over the table as he spoke. 'Surrender, and your people will be spared. Those who wish to leave Constantinople will be given free passage. And you may keep the Morea to rule over as you see fit. I will also grant you a fiefdom elsewhere in my empire, wherever you desire. But if you choose to fight, then I swear to you, you will die and the streets of Constantinople will run with blood.'

Constantine sat speechless, his head bowed. When he looked up, Longo met his eyes and saw in them anger battling with a hopeless resignation. Finally, Constantine spoke. 'You will have my answer, but not now,' he said. 'I need time.'

'Very well,' Mehmed said, and rose from his chair. 'You have one day to answer, no more. And let me remind you. Our law allows for two days of plunder. If you do not accept my terms, then you and your people can expect no mercy. You have one day. Farewell, Emperor.'

Mehmed turned and went to his horse. Ulu stayed behind. 'Leave this city, Longo,' he said quietly. 'If we meet again, then one of us will die.' Then he turned and followed his master.

'Come, Constantine,' Longo said. 'We must get back to the walls. It is not safe here.'

Constantine rose slowly, his eyes still fixed on the retreating figure of the sultan. 'I am the protector of my people. Shall I allow them to be slaughtered? What should I do?'