Siege

'Well, keep at it,' Longo told him. 'And once the fighting starts, get back to la Fortuna and make her ready to sail. This battle is no place for you, Nicolo.'

'I could not agree more, signor,' Nicolo replied, but Longo was already past him, heading for Tristo and William. Tristo, as huge and lively as ever, was talking to one of the gun crews. His giant sword was sheathed in a scabbard across his back and he carried an enormous battle-axe in his hands. William stood beside Tristo, shouting orders down to the men between the walls, telling them where to place the mantelets — portable wooden barriers. William had grown from the awkward, scrawny runaway that Longo had first met five years ago into a lean, muscular man and a confident leader.

'What news, William?' Longo asked. 'How are the men?'

'They are in good spirits. I've put most of them on the wall with spears to hold off attackers. As you ordered, I'm keeping a hundred men in reserve to act as archers and to plug any gaps that open.'

'And the cannons, Tristo?' Longo asked.

'The cannons are ready and charged, but we'll have to use them wisely,' Tristo replied. 'We have collected plenty of stone for shot, but our supply of powder is low. We have enough for maybe thirty rounds, more if we half-charge the cannons once the Turks get in close.'

'Make it so,' Longo said. 'And don't let the men fire until the Turks are at the walls.' Longo turned to look out in the direction from which the Turks would come. The plain was dark and empty. Where the thousands of lights of the Turkish camp should have been, there was nothing — only a few flickering torches here and there. 'Where are they?'

'The lookouts saw them forming ranks, and then the lights in the Turkish camp went out. That is when we rang the bells,' William said. 'They're coming. Just wait.'

'You have done well, William,' Longo told him. 'But now I have something else to ask of you. I fear you will not like it.'

'Whatever it is, I will do it.'

'I ask you to leave the walls. Go to Princess Sofia and protect her.'

'But my place is here!' William protested. 'I owe it to my uncle and my friends to avenge their deaths.'

'There is more to life than revenge, William. How many Turks have you already killed? Twenty? Thirty? Believe me, no matter how many you kill, your anger will not fade. Your revenge will never be complete.' Longo grasped William by the shoulders. 'You have a wife. Think of her. We must all protect that which we hold most dear. I am asking you as a friend to protect Sofia for me.'

William looked away, his jaw tight. Finally, he nodded. 'Very well.'

'Thank you,' Longo said. 'If the bells ring to signal the retreat, take her aboard la Fortuna and sail for Pera.' William nodded again. 'Good luck, William. May God be with you.' The two men embraced.

'And with you,' William replied.

'Keep yourself alive,' Tristo told him, engulfing William in a hug. 'I still have money to win back from you at dice.'

'Not if I can help it,' William replied with a grin. Tristo and Longo watched him descend from the ramparts and pass through the gate of the inner wall. A moment later, the emperor emerged through the same gate. He was followed by Dalmata and the Varangian guard. Men in the courtyard between the two walls knelt, and Constantine strode past them to cries of 'Hail Constantine!' and 'Long live the Emperor!' Longo went to meet him on the causeway leading to the top of the outer wall.

'Greetings, Emperor. Have you come to inspect the troops?'

'No, signor, I have come to fight.'

'You would be safer elsewhere. The Turks will focus their attack on this point.'

'That is why I am here,' Constantine said firmly. 'If we can hold the Mesoteichion, then we can save Constantinople.'

'But if you die, then all will be lost. It is too great a risk.'

'We must risk everything, even my life, if we wish to win this battle,' Constantine replied. 'Are the men all here?'

'Yes. Save for one or two stragglers.'

'Good. Then close the gates of the inner wall.'

'But My Lord, with the gates closed, how will we retreat?' Dalmata asked.

'There will be no retreat. Close the gates.' Mehmed stood on the Turkish ramparts and looked out across the plain to where the torchlit walls of Constantinople loomed out of the darkness. Tonight, for the first time in a thousand years, those walls would fall. Tonight he, Mehmed, would fulfil his destiny. Mehmed thought back to nine years ago, when he had been driven from the throne and sent to rot in Manisa. The generals had laughed at him then, calling him 'Mehmed the Scholar'. After tonight, nobody would ever laugh again.

He turned to face the generals who were gathered around him under the light of a single torch. 'Are the men in position?' he asked Ulu.

'Yes, My Lord.'

'Then give the signal for the cannons to fire. After they have done their work, then you may send in your bazibozouks, Mahmud Pasha.'

Mahmud Pasha bowed. 'Thank you, My Lord, for the honour of the first attack.'

'And what of the Anatolian cavalry?' Ishak Pasha asked. 'My men have not waited these two months only to watch the bazibozouks steal their glory.'

'Patience, Ishak,' Mehmed replied. 'There will be glory enough for all today. I have something special in mind for you and your men.' The soldiers around Longo had fallen silent as they waited nervously for the Turkish attack to begin, so silent that Longo could hear the hiss of the slow match burning next to the nearby cannons. The quiet was shattered by the roar of Turkish cannons. They fired all together, dozens of tongues of flame piercing the darkness along the Turkish ramparts. 'Take shelter!' Longo yelled as he ducked behind the low stone barrier that fronted the outer wall. A second later, he felt the wall tremble beneath him as several cannonballs slammed into it. Twenty feet to his right, a section of wall some ten feet wide shook and then collapsed outward in a pile of dirt and rubble, taking a cannon with it.

'Bring forth the mantelets!' Longo yelled to the men who stood in reserve behind the wall. 'Fill that gap!' Men took up two of the mobile wooden walls and moved them into place. The mantelets were hardly in place, however, before another cannonball hit one of them dead on. It exploded in a shower of splinters, leaving several men down and screaming in pain. More men rushed forward to drag them to safety, while another mantelet was brought forward.

'We can't take much more of this!' Tristo shouted over the boom of the cannons.

'You're right,' Longo agreed. 'Take all of the men off the wall save for the cannon crews. Have them take shelter at the base of the wall.' Tristo nodded and hurried away. Within a few minutes the top of the wall around Longo was empty. He sat alone, huddled behind the low stone barrier while the wall shook beneath him. Finally, the Turkish cannons fell silent.

Longo stood immediately and peered out into the darkness. He saw nothing, but as his ears recovered from the sound of the bombardment, he heard the rumble of thousands of marching feet. 'Back to the wall!' he shouted to the men below him. 'Here they come!' He had no sooner spoken than a wave of noise burst forth from the darkness: the ululating scream of 'Allah! Allah! Allah!' mixed with the sound of drums and wailing bagpipes. The noise grew louder and louder, yet still Longo saw nothing. A nervous cannoneer down the line touched off his cannon, sending shot flying into the darkness. 'Hold your fire, damn it!' Tristo roared. 'Wait until they're in range!'

The sound of the onrushing Turks grew deafening. Finally, a solid wave of Turks emerged from the darkness, only some forty yards from the walls. They ran in no formation and wore a hotchpotch of old armour. Some carried swords and spears, while others were armed with scythes or pitchforks. Longo recognized them as the bazibozouks, untrained peasants who formed the bulk of the Turkish army. What they lacked in training, they made up for in fanatical bravery. There were thousands of them.