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.
And then the wind died. Longo stood at the wheel of la Fortuna, anxiously watching the sails as they shuddered and then fell limp. The wheel died beneath his hand as the ship lost its way and the current gripped it, pulling them back towards the Turkish fleet. He looked behind him. Their oars out again, the Turkish galleys were advancing quickly, cutting through the water. There was no way that the bulkier Christian ships would be able to outrow them. Already the foremost Turkish ship, a low trireme flying the flag of Baltoghlu, the admiral of the Turkish fleet, had reached the grain transport. La Fortuna and the other ships would be surrounded soon enough. The safety of the Golden Horn was within sight, but with the wind gone it might as well have been miles away. They would have to fight.
'Axes out, men!' Longo called, as he left the wheel and took up an axe. 'We're going to have to hold our own until the wind returns. Let's give them hell!' The men cheered. Longo had more than six hundred soldiers with him: two hundred and fifty here aboard la Fortuna and an additional two hundred each aboard la Speranza and l'Aquila, a ship that he had picked up in Chios. The fourth ship, a grain transport sent by the pope, was the weakest part of the convoy. The captain, Phlatanelas, was a brave man, but his ship held more grain than men.
The Turkish flagship reached the transport, ramming it across the bow, and a horde of screaming Turks swarmed up the sides, only to be met with a shower of burning Greek fire that swept them into the sea. Longo turned away from the spectacle to shout orders to his crew. 'Tristo, take two companies and man the starboard side. William, take the same and command the port,' Longo ordered. 'Archers, get aloft and begin firing as soon as the Turks are alongside. Firemen, be ready with those buckets.'
'And what about me?' Nicolo asked. Longo's portly chamberlain stood awkwardly in a bulky suit of armour, wringing his hands as he stared at the approaching Turkish ships.
'First of all, take off that armour. You can hardly move in it,' Longo told him. 'Then go below and help the men bring up ballast stones from the hold.'
'But why? Are they not needed for… for ballasting?'
'Take them to the rail and drop them on any Turkish ship that comes alongside. Their ships have thin hulls. God willing, the stones will go right through them.'
'How clever,' Nicolo murmured, but Longo was no longer paying attention to him. The first Turkish ships were closing in and had begun firing flaming arrows at the ship. Most of those that hit sputtered out, but a few caught. The firemen hurried about the deck, dousing the flames with buckets of water. Shortly after the arrows hit, the first Turkish boat reached them. It rammed the side of the ship with a solid thump that knocked several of Longo's crew off their feet. The thick sides of la Fortuna absorbed the blow with no damage, but the bow of the ramming ship was splintered and crushed on impact. The Turkish soldiers aboard could not swim in their heavy armour. Their panicked cries were drowned out one by one as the ship sank quickly beneath the waves.
Three more Turkish ships came alongside, followed by dozens more. Within seconds la Fortuna was surrounded and engulfed in chaos. Turks swarmed the ship from all sides, yelling like demons and fighting desperately to board. Longo's men fought them back, their heavy axes severing the hands and heads of would-be boarders. Tristo wielded a massive axe, protecting a full five feet of railing by himself as he took off head after head. On the opposite side of the ship, William had eschewed an axe for his sword. He slipped in and out of his men, striking where needed and dispatching Turks with ruthless efficiency. Above, the twang of bowstrings could be heard from high in la Fortuna's rigging, and arrows filled the air, whizzing into the Turks below. Nicolo stumbled past Longo carrying a huge ballast stone. The chamberlain dropped it over the side and then clapped his hands with glee as the stone crashed through the deck of a Turkish ship below. Water bubbled through the ragged hole, flooding the deck, and the Turkish soldiers began to strip off their armour and abandon the sinking ship. And all this time, flaming arrows continued to rain down on the deck of la Fortuna.
Longo was kept busy, rushing to help wherever one of his men fell or gave ground. He was at the stern, pushing back a fresh wave of attackers when the Turks managed to force their way on deck at la Fortuna's bow. 'To the bow!' Longo yelled to his men as he rushed across the deck to where more than a dozen Turks had already gathered. Moving at a full sprint, Longo hurled his axe at the nearest Turk, catching him square in the chest and knocking him off his feet. Longo drew his sword on the run and slammed into the rest of the Turks. He fought with a savage abandon, spinning, twisting and slashing his way through the boarders, forcing his way to the railing at the bow, where he confronted a final Turk. He parried the attacker's thrust, lowered his shoulder, and slammed into him, knocking him over the rail and into the sea below. More Turks were clambering up the side, and Longo cut the ropes that they were using to climb aboard. As they fell into the sea below, Longo looked around him.