Siege

'No one can tell you who to love,' Longo said softly.

Sofia nodded and took a step closer to Longo. 'I know,' she whispered. She kissed him again, quickly, and then, before he could reply, she turned and was gone. Dawn was still at least three hours away when Longo emerged from the tunnel and on to the hillside beyond the Turkish camp. The darkness was intense, and he slipped unseen up to one of the sentries and dispatched him silently, covering his mouth as he slipped a dagger between his ribs. Longo donned the dead janissary's armour and headed into the Turkish camp, passing hundreds of grazing mules and lowing cattle before entering amongst the tents.

Despite the early hour there was a surprising amount of activity. On the outskirts he saw dozens of carpenters busy making ladders, bow makers stringing weapons and blacksmiths at their forges. As he passed amongst the tents of the janissaries, Longo heard all around him the quiet rasp of weapons being sharpened. He saw many men seated around fires, eating as they prepared their weapons and armour. Here and there he heard the excited clamour of a game of dice.

The janissaries grouped their tents by orta, or battalion, and at the centre of each orta was a large mess tent that bore the battalion's emblem. Longo walked through the tents until he came to a symbol that he knew well — the double-bladed sword of Ali, embroidered in red on a tent from which flew a triangular green flag. It was the standard of one of the solak imperial guard units from Edirne, the elite amongst the janissaries. At the nearest fire several battle-hardened men were eating, using stiff flatbread to scoop a pilaf of boiled wheat and butter from a common pot. Longo took a seat among them, broke off a piece of bread and gestured for someone to pass the food. One of the janissaries began to pass the pot, but another, grey-haired man stopped him. The older man wore a vest lined with fox fur, the mark of a battalion commander, and the double-bladed sword emblem was tattooed on his shoulder. He squinted at Longo. 'I don't recognize you,' he said at last, in Turkish.

'I'm from one of the Salonika orta,' Longo explained in perfect Turkish.

'Then why don't you go back there.' It was not a question.

Longo smiled. 'I was a little too lucky at dice tonight,' he said and patted his full purse. 'I'm afraid I'm not exactly welcome in my orta. The Saloniki are not good losers.' Longo was taking a risk. While the rule was rarely enforced, gambling was officially forbidden amongst the janissary. The orta commander could have Longo caned on the soles of his feet for admitting to luck at dice.

The old janissary's eyes moved from Longo's face to his fat purse, and then the man grinned. 'Those coins of yours sound like a burden. We'd be happy to relieve you of them,' the janissary said. He took out a pair of dice and rattled them in his hand. 'Give us a chance to win some of your purse, and you will be welcome at our fire.'

'Very well,' Longo said. He reached into his purse and then tossed a golden asper before him. 'But I have to warn you: I've been very lucky.'

The old janissary grinned, and the other janissaries chuckled. 'Luck never lasts forever,' the old janissary said, and threw the dice. They landed double sixes — a perfect first roll. Longo went on to lose the game, and after that, he lost repeatedly. He suspected the dice were loaded, but he was happy to lose. Winning made the janissaries more talkative. After a dozen games, they were slapping Longo on the back and treating him like one of their own.

'Easy come, easy go,' Longo said, fingering his now nearly empty purse. 'I suppose I'll have to wait until the city falls to refill it. I hear Constantinople is full of gold.'

'And women,' the janissary next to Longo leered.

'Be the first over the wall, and you will have a thousand such purses,' the old janissary, Qayi, said. 'Not that you will get the chance. I expect the supreme aga, Ulu, will claim the prize. I, for one, would not stand in his way.'

'Nor would I,' Longo agreed. He sighed as another bad roll cost him the last contents of his purse. 'I only wish that we could attack now. I could use some of the fabled wealth of Constantinople.'

'Patience, my young friend,' Qayi said. 'Allah willing, the city will fall to us tomorrow night, and you will fill your purse with the wealth of Constantinople. And then,' he added with a smile, 'you can lose it to us again at dice.'

'Agreed,' Longo said. 'After all, luck never lasts forever.'

Qayi chuckled, and then the smile dropped from his face. He scooped up the dice and stood suddenly. The other janissaries followed suit, as did Longo. Walking towards them, not twenty feet away, was Ulu. He had not yet seen Longo. The men saluted as Ulu approached, and Longo took the opportunity to slip quietly away from the fire and into the darkness. As he crept away, he could hear Ulu's deep voice behind him. 'Qayi, you and your men should get some rest. Your regiment will have the honour of leading the charge on the stockade tomorrow night.'

If Ulu saw him, he was lost. Longo crept away. He had more business outside the walls before the sun rose. While Longo was entering the Turkish camp, Sofia returned to her room through the secret passage from the kitchen. She did not trust anyone but herself to deliver the message to William and Tristo. She threw on a long, hooded cloak and buckled a sword around her waist. Then she quietly opened the door to her apartments and slipped out into the dark hallway. She froze instantly, her hand on her sword. A man was standing in the corridor outside her room. He stepped out of the shadows. It was Notaras.

'Megadux, what are you doing here?' Sofia asked.

'I might well ask the same of you, Princess,' Notaras replied. 'I heard a nasty rumour that Signor Giustiniani had entered your apartments and not left.' He looked past her into her apartments. 'I am relieved to see that it does not appear to be true.'

'Of course not!' Sofia said, feigning outrage. She was glad that the shadows hid her scarlet cheeks.

'Still, you will not mind if I take a quick look about your apartments?' Notaras asked.

'There is no man in my quarters,' Sofia replied. 'I should hope that my word will be enough, but you may do as you wish, Megadux.'

'Your word will be quite enough, of course,' Notaras said, although he took one last glance into her room before Sofia shut the door. 'Still, leaving the palace in the early morning hours is hardly proper behaviour for a princess.'

'And is that what you wish for me to be, Notaras? Proper?'

'No, Sofia,' Notaras said. 'But I do wish for you to be careful. You are my betrothed, and my reputation is just as much at stake as yours.'

'Surely you do not suspect me of carrying on some sordid affair by night. You know me better than that.'

'Yes, Princess, I know you very well indeed,' Notaras said. Sofia felt his sharp gaze burrow into her and looked away. 'But not all the citizens of Constantinople know you as well as I do. You must be careful, Sofia. Come, at least let me escort you to wherever you are going.'

'Thank you, Notaras, but I can find my own way. I have business that does not concern you.'

'At this hour? What kind of business could that be?'

'I have an important message to deliver. Trust me, Notaras. The safety of Constantinople depends on it.'

'I do trust you, Sofia,' Notaras replied. 'But you must trust me in turn. Have I ever betrayed your trust? Tell me what you are doing, and I will help as I can.'

Sofia gave Notaras a long look. Perhaps he was right; perhaps she was wrong not to trust him. He was arrogant and prideful, but he would fight to the death for his city.

'Very well, Notaras,' she said. 'I have discovered a tunnel that leads from beneath the palace to beyond the walls. I have told no one but Signor Giustiniani. As the head of the defence, I thought he should be the first to know. He is outside the walls even now, spying in the Turkish camp. I am going to tell his men so that they may prepare to destroy the tunnel.'