'Rebellion, then,' Mehmed said quietly. The siege had lasted less than a month, and already his dreams of glory were falling to pieces around him. He shook his head, forcing the thought from his mind. His men might run from the Christians, but Mehmed would not give up so easily. He would show his army the fate of those who defied him. 'And you, Ulu?' he asked. 'Are you with them?'
'I serve only you, My Lord,' Ulu replied.
'Good. Then gather a dozen men whose loyalty you trust and bring them to my tent.' As Mehmed strode back through camp, he saw orta after orta of janissaries, still in their battle armour, standing around the tall copper cooking pots that served both to prepare their meals and as their rallying point in battle. The pots had all been overturned: a declaration of mutiny. Mehmed met the eyes of as many men as he could. Some saluted him, but most of them looked away, embarrassed. A few defiantly returned his gaze. The crowd was thickest near Mehmed's tent. Mehmed walked through the janissaries, some with their swords still in hand, and stopped before the entrance to the tent. He turned and addressed them in a loud voice.
'You have served me loyally in this campaign. You have marched far, from Edirne to Constantinople. You fought bravely tonight before the walls of Constantinople, and although victory was not ours tonight, do not think that I value your service any less. I am a just ruler, and I will always reward faithful service. For your efforts thus far in this campaign, I will increase your pay by fifty aspers each.' Mehmed paused as there was scattered cheering amongst the men. 'For it was neither the walls nor the defenders of Constantinople that defeated you, but traitors in our own midst. Tonight, they stole victory from us, and now they would have us turn tail and flee. They would steal the glory and the spoils that are rightfully yours.
'We will not let them!' Mehmed roared. 'No, we will stay, and we will fight! In the days ahead, there will be glory for the brave and spoils enough to make rich men of you all. All the wealth of Christendom will be laid at your feet. You have but to follow your sultan, and I will lead you to glory!' He paused and turned slowly in a circle, meeting the eyes of the men around him. 'Now,' he continued. 'Who will follow me to glory? Who will serve their sultan, even unto death?'
At first, there was simply frozen silence, and then a janissary near Mehmed knelt and raised his fist in salute. Another followed him and then another, until all around Mehmed the janissaries knelt. Ulu bellowed out 'Hail to the sultan!' and the cry was taken up and repeated. The chant swelled and swept over Mehmed. The men's cheering was intoxicating. For the first time since taking the throne, he truly felt like the sultan. But his work was not done. He had dealt with the janissaries. Now he had to deal with their leaders.
As the chanting and cheering subsided, Mehmed turned and called Ulu to him. 'Enter the tent,' Mehmed told him. 'Seize the commanders, but do not kill them.' Ulu nodded and led his men into the tent, their weapons drawn. When the shouts and clash of arms had faded, Mehmed strode in after them.
He found the leaders of the rebellion, eight janissary commanders, kneeling on the floor of the tent, each with a sword to their throat. 'If I allow you to live,' Mehmed told them, 'then I will never see the end of challenges to my authority. I am a just sultan, and betrayal of this sort demands justice. Ulu, take these men outside and have them beheaded before their men. Be quick about it, and do not let it become a spectacle. Let my men see that I deliver justice swiftly and fairly.'
The commanders begged for mercy, but Mehmed ignored them as they were dragged from the tent. He went to his private quarters and poured himself a cup of wine. He tried to drink as little as possible while in the field. After all, alcohol was forbidden by the Koran, and he did not want his men to think him impious. Still, after the events of the night he felt the need for something stronger than water. As he raised the cup to his lips he heard from outside a strangled cry and the sickening thud of the executioner's sword. He set the cup back down, untasted. After bathing and changing into breeches and a tunic, Longo did not reach the palace until after midnight, but the victory celebration was still in full swing. The palace's great hall was packed with soldiers and women, all drinking toast after toast to victory. Longo paused at the entrance to the hall, and a herald announced him. The crowd cheered and raised their cups in salute. Longo found himself surrounded by well-wishers. As he greeted a succession of men and women, he scanned the hall looking for Sofia. He spied Tristo roaring with laughter and William smiling at his friend's merriment, but Sofia was nowhere to be seen.
'Congratulations, my friend!' Constantine exclaimed as he approached Longo. 'What a glorious victory. God is truly with us! The Turks will never conquer these walls!'
'I hope that you are right, Emperor,' Longo began, but the rest of his remarks were cut short by the herald announcing the arrival of Megadux Lucas Notaras. Longo noticed that the cheering was even louder for Notaras than it had been for him and was pleased. Perhaps this glory would make Notaras more cooperative.
'Ah, the megadux,' Constantine said. 'I must congratulate him as well. Without his cannons, the battle would have been lost.' Constantine moved away, and Longo made his way through the crowded hall looking for Sofia. When he did not see her there, he headed out into the interior garden. It was empty.
'Looking for someone?' Startled, Longo turned to find Notaras standing at the entrance to the hall. The megadux had a dangerous gleam in his eye, and Longo suspected that he had been drinking.
'No,' Longo lied. 'The hall was crowded. I just wanted some fresh air.'
Notaras stepped out of the shadows and into the garden. 'I see,' he said. 'I thought perhaps you might be searching for Princess Sofia. The two of you seem to be very close.'
'I do not like your tone, Notaras,' Longo replied. 'Be careful what you say.'
'No, Signor Giustiniani, it is you who should be careful.' Notaras stepped forward so that he and Longo were face to face. Longo could smell the wine on his breath. 'I know about the tunnels, and I also know about your late-night meeting with Princess Sofia. Mark me well, signor: I will do whatever is necessary to protect her honour and my own.' Notaras stepped past Longo and strode from the garden.
Longo watched him go. Notaras must have surprised Sofia last night when she was returning from the tunnel. Now the megadux was jealous, and jealous men were dangerous. Was that why Sofia was not at the celebration? Had Notaras done something to her? There was only one sure way to find out. Longo headed for the kitchen and the secret passage to Sofia's chambers. He reached the end of the secret passage and fumbled in the darkness for the mechanism to open the door. When he finally found the catch and pulled the door open, he found Sofia standing before him, dressed in a thin sleeping tunic and holding a sword. She smiled when she saw him and dropped the sword. 'It's you,' she said and stepped into his arms, kissing him. 'Thank God you are all right. I heard news of the battle and feared the worst.' She stepped out of his arms, and suddenly realizing that her tunic was not entirely opaque, went to the bed and threw a blanket over her shoulders.
Longo discreetly turned his head. 'Why did you not come to the celebration?' he asked.
'Constantine has forbidden me from leaving my quarters after sunset,' Sofia said. 'Notaras told him I was roaming the palace late last night.'
'Notaras warned me not to see you,' Longo said.
'He is not a man to be trifled with. You should take his warning seriously.'
'I know.'
'Yet you are here.'
'I wanted to make sure that you were all right. When you did not appear tonight, I feared that something had happened.'