'No! Stay and fight!' Notaras yelled as he sprinted in the other direction, towards the barrel. If the tunnel was destroyed, then the Turks would escape. He had to stop the fuse.
There were still five Turks between Notaras and the barrel. Either they did not know what was happening, or they were willing to sacrifice their lives so that their comrades could escape. Notaras crashed into them at a sprint, planting his shoulder into the chest of the first Turk and bowling him over. He spun off the impact, slashing with his sword as he did so and cutting the arm of another Turk, who dropped his weapon. There were still three Turks in the way and more were coming back down the tunnel to help them. The lit fuse was now racing up the side of the barrel. Notaras scooped up the sword that the injured Turk had dropped and charged towards the barrel. As he reached the remaining Turks, he parried a blow, spun to his right, lashed out with both swords, and then charged between two of the Turks, knocking them aside. The fuse was over the side of the barrel and racing towards the powder. Notaras lunged forward and sliced through it, cutting it in half only an inch from where it entered the barrel. The bit of fuse that was still burning landed harmlessly on the tunnel floor.
A second later, a sword slammed into Notaras's side. The blow was deflected by Notaras's chain mail, but it knocked the wind from him and sent him stumbling into the wall. He spun to find himself facing four Turks. Notaras lashed out, driving them back a step, but the numbers against him were too great. A sword snuck through his defences to slice his leg. He dropped to one knee. Another blow struck his arm, and he dropped one of his swords. The world around him seemed to slow. He looked up to see the Turk immediately in front of him raise his sword high to finish him off, but the blow never came. Instead, the Turk dropped his sword and slumped to the side. Standing where the Turk had been was Longo. Behind him, Greek troops were hurrying through the hole in the wall in pursuit of the Turks.
'You,' Notaras mumbled. Longo stuck out his hand and pulled Notaras to his feet. 'But why?'
'Because you would have done the same,' Longo replied. 'Now come.' They stepped through the hole in the wall, but had only gone some thirty yards before they met Tristo coming from the opposite direction, dragging a Turk behind him.
'Look what I found: a Turkish rat!' Tristo rejoiced. 'He's a miner. I found him giving orders to blow up the tunnel further down.'
'Do you know the location of the other tunnels?' Longo asked the man in Turkish.
'Allah curse you, infidel!' the Turk spat back.
'He knows something,' Longo told Tristo. 'Round up as many prisoners as you can. You know what to do, Tristo.'
Tristo grinned. 'Don't worry, they'll talk.' He dragged the prisoner off down the tunnel, leaving Longo and Notaras alone.
Longo turned to Notaras. 'If you still wish to duel, I suggest that we wait until tomorrow,' Longo said. 'Now is not the time.'
'There will be no duel,' Notaras responded. 'You saved my life. I will not tarnish my honour by taking yours.'
'And Sofia? What will become of her?'
'I will say nothing. You can have her,' Notaras said and walked away. Dawn was breaking when Sofia finally returned to her chambers. Constantine had insisted that she stay in his quarters until the palace had been searched, and he was certain that all of the Turks were gone. When Sofia reached her chambers, she found Notaras waiting for her, his face hard and unreadable.
'Notaras, what are you doing here?' Sofia asked.
Notaras did not reply. Instead he strode across the room and slapped her so hard that Sofia tasted blood. She sank to the floor, holding her cheek. Notaras spat at her feet. 'There is nothing between us anymore,' he said. 'You are not worthy of me.' He strode past her to the door.
'Notaras,' Sofia called after him, and he stopped at the doorway. 'I am sorry. I did not mean to hurt you.'
Notaras turned, and Sofia could see that his eyes were shining. 'Then we are both sorry, Princess,' he said and left. Gennadius was awakened before dawn by the sound of a single pair of footsteps approaching down the long stone corridor that led to his prison cell. The footsteps stopped outside his cell, and he heard keys jangling. As the key clanked in the lock, Gennadius sat up, trying to look as composed as possible after ten days without a bath or a change of clothes. The door swung open. Squinting against the sudden brightness from the torchlight that flooded the cell, Gennadius could make out the features of Notaras. The megadux looked far from pleased.
'Good-morning, Notaras,' Gennadius said. 'What brings you to my humble quarters at this early hour?'
'You are free to go, monk.'
'Then what I told you about Sofia was true?'
Notaras nodded. 'Now, Gennadius, tell me of your plan to kill the sultan. I am ready to listen.'
Chapter 20
TUESDAY 8 MAY TO WEDNESDAY 23 MAY 1453, CONSTANTINOPLE: DAYS 38 TO 53 OF THE SIEGE
As the sun rose, Mehmed stood on a hill just out of reach of Constantinople's cannons and watched as the headless bodies of his troops were tossed over the walls, one after another. The bodies would lie at the base of the wall and rot, a grisly barrier intended to dispirit Mehmed's troops when they attacked. Mehmed had been standing there since late the previous night, when he had ordered the attack through the tunnels. He had sworn to himself that he would stay until he had seen every last body come over the wall. That was the punishment for his failure.
An ear-splitting boom caused Mehmed to clap his hands over his ears. There was a loud rumbling and just to his left, a one-hundred-yard long stretch of earth running from the wall towards the Turkish camp collapsed. As the rumbling faded, Mehmed could hear cheering coming from the walls of Constantinople. A few seconds later there was another loud boom, and another long line of earth collapsed in a cloud of dust.
'Great Sultan,' a messenger panted as he arrived at Mehmed's side. 'The Christians have discovered our tunnels.'
'Yes, I can see that,' Mehmed replied. One of the miners that the Christians had captured must have talked. And now, after weeks of digging, all that work was wasted. Over the next hour Mehmed watched as one by one, each of the Turkish mines into the city was destroyed. He consoled himself by imagining that each headless body that fell from the walls of Constantinople was the corpse of one of the miners who had betrayed him. Finally, the last of the Turkish soldiers was cast over the walls. There was renewed cheering from Constantinople, and then nothing.
Mehmed had seen enough. 'Tell my generals and viziers to meet me in my tent,' he told the messenger. But Mehmed did not go immediately to join his generals. Instead he walked through the Turkish camp with Ulu trailing behind. Dressed as a simple janissary, Mehmed drew little attention. After all, most of his troops had never seen him face to face. Everywhere he saw men with pinched faces and vacant eyes, speaking little except to grumble about the interminable siege. Mehmed joined a group of janissaries who were breakfasting before a fire. Ulu stayed out of sight just beyond the ring of firelight.
'I just got off watch,' Mehmed said. 'Spare a bite to eat?'
The grizzled old veteran who was tending the cooking pot gave Mehmed a long look, but then scooped a ladle of some white, runny substance from the pot and poured it into a bowl. He handed it to Mehmed along with a piece of rock-hard peskimet biscuit. 'Eat your fill, or as much as you can stomach.'
Mehmed snapped off a piece of the peskimet and scooped up some of the concoction. He placed it in his mouth and nearly gagged at the taste. He chewed doggedly and then forced himself to swallow. 'You don't like it?' the veteran asked. 'It's the best I can do with the supplies they give us. Every day the food gets worse. But he doesn't care.' He nodded towards the sultan's tent in the distance and then looking pointedly at Mehmed: 'He eats like a soul in paradise while we're left with this slop.'