by Lew Wallace
CHAPTER III
THE BLOODY HARVEST
In June, a few days after the completion of the enormous work begun byMahommed on the Asometon promontory, out of a gate attached to the HighResidence of Blacherne, familiarly known as the Caligaria, there issueda small troop of horsemen of the imperial military establishment.
The leader of this party--ten in all--was Count Corti. Quite a body ofspectators witnessed the exit, and in their eyes he was the mostgallant knight they had ever seen. They cheered him as, turning to theright after issuance from the gate, he plunged at a lively trot intothe ravine at the foot of the wall, practically an immense naturalfosse. "God and our Lady of Blacherne," they shouted, and continuedshouting while he was in sight, notwithstanding he did not so much asshake the banderole on his lance in reply.
Of the Count's appearance this morning it is unnecessary to say morethan that he was in the suit of light armor habitual to him, and as anindication of serious intent, bore, besides the lance, a hammer orbattle-axe fixed to his saddle-bow, a curved sword considerably longer,though not so broad as a cimeter, a bow and quiver of arrows at hisback, and a small shield or buckler over the quiver. The favoritechestnut Arab served him for mount, its head and neck clothed inflexible mail. The nine men following were equipped like himself inevery particular, except that their heads were protected byclose-fitting conical caps, and instead of armor on their legs, theywore flowing red trousers.
Of them it may be further remarked, their mode of riding, due to theirshort stirrups, was indicative of folk akin to the Bedouin of theDesert.
Upon returning from the last interview with Mahommed in the WhiteCastle, the Count had subjected the crew of his galley to rigoroustrial of fitness for land service. Nine of them he found excellentriders after their fashion, and selecting them as the most promising,he proceeded to instruct them in the use of the arms they were nowbearing. His object in this small organization was a support to rush inafter him rather than a battle front. That is, in a charge he was to bethe lance's point, and they the broadening of the lance's blade; whilehe was engaged, intent on the foe before him, eight of them were toguard him right and left, and, as the exigencies of combat mightdemand, open and close in fan-like movement. The ninth man was afighter in their rear. In the simple manoeuvring of this order ofbattle he had practised them diligently through the months. The skillattained was remarkable; and the drilling having been in theHippodrome, open to the public, the concourse to see it had beenencouraging.
In truth, the wager with Mahommed had supplied the Count with energy ofbody and mind. He studied the chances of the contest, knowing howswiftly it was coming, and believed it possible to defend the citysuccessfully. At all events, he would do his best, and if the judgmentwere adverse, it should not be through default on his part.
The danger--and he discerned it with painful clearness--was in thereligious dissensions of the Greeks; still he fancied the first seriousblow struck by the Turks, the first bloodshed, would bring the factionstogether, if only for the common safety.
It is well worth while here to ascertain the views and feelings of thepeople whom Count Corti was thus making ready to defend. This may besaid of them generally: It seemed impossible to bring them to believethe Sultan really intended war against the city.
"What if he does?" they argued. "Who but a young fool would think ofsuch a thing? If he comes, we will show him the banner of the BlessedLady from the walls."
If in the argument there was allusion to the tower on the Asometonheights, so tall one could stand on its lead-covered roof, and lookingover the intermediate hills, almost see into Constantinople, thecareless populace hooted at the exaggeration: "There be royal idiots aswell as every-day idiots. Staring at us is one thing, shooting at us isanother. Towers with walls thirty feet thick are not movable."
One day a report was wafted through the gates that a gun in the waterbattery of the new Turkish fort had sunk a passing ship. "What flag wasthe ship flying?" "The Venetian." "Ah, that settles it," the publiccried. "The Sultan wants to keep the Venetians out of the Black Sea.The Turks and the Venetians have always been at war."
A trifle later intelligence came that the Sultan, lingering atBasch-Kegan, supposably because the air along the Bosphorus was betterthan the air at Adrianople, had effected a treaty by which the Podestaof Galata bound his city to neutrality; still the complacency of theByzantines was in no wise disturbed. "Score one for the Genoese. It isgood to hear of their beating the Venetians."
Occasionally a wanderer--possibly a merchant, more likely aspy--passing the bazaars of Byzantium, entertained the booth-keeperswith stories of cannon being cast for the Sultan so big that six mentied together might be fired from them at once. The Greeks only jeered.Some said: "Oh, the Mahound must be intending a salute for the man inthe moon of Ramazan!" Others decided: "Well, he is crazier than wethought him. There are many hills on the road to Adrianople, and at thefoot of every hill there is a bridge. To get here he must invent wingsfor his guns, and even then it will be long before they can be taughtto fly."
At times, too, the old city was set agog with rumors from the Asiaticprovinces opposite that the Sultan was levying unheard-of armies; hehad half a million recruits already, but wanted a million. "Oh, hemeans to put a lasting quietus on Huniades and his Hungarians. He issensible in taking so many men."
In compliment to the intelligence of the public, this obliviousness todanger had one fostering circumstance--the gates of the city on landand water stood open day and night.
"See," it was everywhere said, "the Emperor is not alarmed. Who hasmore at stake than he? He is a soldier, if he is an _azymite_. He keepsambassadors with the Sultan--what for, if not to be advised?"
And there was a great deal in the argument.
At length the Greek ambassadors were expelled by Mahommed. It was whilehe lay at Basch-Kegan. They themselves brought the news. This wasominous, yet the public kept its spirits. The churches, notably SanctaSophia, were more than usually crowded with women; that was all, forthe gates not only remained open, but traffic went in and out of themunhindered--out even to the Turkish camp, the Byzantines actuallycompeting with their neighbors of Galata in the furnishment ofsupplies. Nay, at this very period every morning a troop of theImperial guard convoyed a wagon from Blacherne out to Basch-Kegan ladenwith the choicest food and wines; and to the officer receiving them thecaptain of the convoy invariably delivered himself: "From His Majesty,the Emperor of the Romans and Greeks, to the Lord Mahommed, Sultan ofthe Turks. Prosperity and long life to the Sultan."
If these were empty compliments, if the relations between thepotentates were slippery, if war were hatching, what was the Emperorabout?
Six months before the fort opposite the White Castle was begun,Constantine had been warned of Mahommed's projected movement againsthis capital. The warning was from Kalil Pacha; and whether Kalil wasmoved by pity, friendship, or avarice is of no moment; certain it isthe Emperor acted upon the advice. He summoned a council, and proposedwar; but was advised to send a protesting embassy to the enemy. Ascornful answer was returned. Seeing the timidity of his cabinet, castupon himself, he resolved to effect a policy, and accordinglyexpostulated, prayed, sent presents, offered tribute, and by such meansmanaged to satisfy his advisers; yet all the time he was straining hisresources in preparation.
In the outset, he forced himself to face two facts of the gravestimport: first, of his people, those of age and thews for fighting werein frocks, burrowing in monasteries; next, the clergy and theiraffiliates were his enemies, many openly preferring a Turk to an_azymite_. A more discouraging prospect it is difficult to imagine.There was but one hope left him. Europe was full of professionalsoldiers. Perhaps the Pope had influence to send him a sufficientcontingent. Would His Holiness interest himself so far? The braveEmperor despatched an embassy to Rome, promising submission to thePapacy, and praying help in Christ's name.
Meantime his agents dispersed themselves through the Aegean, buyingprovisions an
d arms, enginery, and war material of all kinds. Thisbusiness kept his remnant of a navy occupied. Every few days a vesselwould arrive with stores for the magazine under the Hippodrome. By thetime the fort at Roumeli Hissar was finished, one of his anxieties wasin a measure relieved. The other was more serious. Then the frequencywith which he climbed the Tower of Isaac, the hours he passed theregazing wistfully southward down the mirror of the Marmora, becameobservable. The valorous, knightly heart, groaning under thehumiliations of the haughty Turk, weary not less of the incapacity ofhis own people to perceive their peril, and arise heroically to meetit, found opportunity to meditate while he was pacing the loftylookout, and struggling to descry the advance of the expected succor.
In this apology the reader who has wondered at the inaction of theEmperor what time the Sultan was perfecting his Asiatic communicationsis answered. There was nothing for him but a siege. To that alternativethe last of the Romans was reduced. He could not promise himself enoughof his own subjects to keep the gates, much less take the field.
The country around Constantinople was given to agriculture. During theplanting season, and the growing, the Greek husbandmen received neitheroffence nor alarm from the Turks. But in June, when the emerald of thecornfields was turning to gold, herds of mules and cavalry horses beganto ravage the fields, and the watchmen, hastening from their littlehuts on the hills to drive them out, were set upon by the soldiers andbeaten. They complained to the Emperor, and he sent an embassy to theSultan praying him to save the crops from ruin. In reply, Mahommedordered the son of Isfendiar, a relative, to destroy the harvest. Thepeasants resisted, and not unsuccessfully. In the South, and in thefields near Hissar on the north, there were deaths on both sides.Intelligence of the affair coming to Constantine, he summoned CountCorti.
"The long expected has arrived," he said. "Blood has been shed. Mypeople have been attacked and slain in their fields; their bodies lieout unburied. The war cannot be longer deferred. It is true the succorsfrom the Holy Father have not arrived; but they are on the way, anduntil they come we must defend ourselves. Cold and indifferent mypeople have certainly been. Now I will make a last effort to arousethem. Go out toward Hissar, and recover the dead. Have the bodiesbrought in just as they are. I will expose them in the Hippodrome.Perhaps their bruises and blood may have an effect; if not, God helpthis Christian city. I will give you a force."
"Your Majesty," the Count replied, "such an expedition might provoke anadvance upon the city before you are entirely prepared. Permit me toselect a party from my own men." "As you choose. A guide will accompanyyou."
To get to the uplands, so to speak, over which, north of Galata, theroad to Hissar stretched, Corti was conducted past the Cynegion andthrough the districts of Eyoub to the Sweet Waters of Europe, which hecrossed by a bridge below the site of the present neglected countrypalace of the Sultan. Up on the heights he turned left of Pera, andafter half an hour's rapid movement was trending northward parallelwith the Bosphorus, reaches of which were occasionally visible throughcleftings of the mountainous shore. Straw-thatched farmhouses dottedthe hills and slopes, and the harvest spread right and left in cheerfulprospect.
The adventurer had ample time to think; but did little of it, being toofull of self-gratulation at having before him an opportunity torecommend himself to the Emperor, with a possibility of earningdistinction creditable in the opinion of the Princess Irene.
At length an exclamation of his guide aroused him to action.
"The Turks, the Turks!"
"Where?"
"See that smoke."
Over a hilltop in his front, the Count beheld the sign of alarmcrawling slowly into the sky.
"Here is a village--to our left, but"--
"Have done," said Corti, "and get me to the fire. Is there a nearer waythan this?"
"Yes, under the hill yonder."
"Is it broken?"
"It narrows to a path, but is clear."
The Count spoke in Arabic to his followers, and taking the gallop,pushed the guide forward. Shortly a party of terror-stricken peasantsran down toward him.
"Why do you run? What is the matter?" he asked.
"Oh, the Turks, the Turks!"
"What of them? Stand, and tell me."
"We went to work this morning cutting corn, for it is now ripe enough.The Mahounds broke in on us. We were a dozen to their fifty or more. Weonly escaped, and they set fire to the field. O Christ, and the MostHoly Mother! Let us pass, or we too will be slain!"
"Are they mounted?"
"Some have horses, some are afoot."
"Where are they now?"
"In the field on the hill."
"Well, go to the village fast as you can, and tell the men there tocome and pick up their dead. Tell them not to fear, for the Emperor hassent me to take care of them."
With that the Count rode on.
This was the sight presented him when he made the ascent: A wheat fieldsloping gradually to the northeast; fire creeping across it crackling,smoking, momentarily widening; through the cloud a company of Turkishsoldiers halted, mostly horsemen, their arms glinting brightly in thenoon sun; blackened objects, unmistakably dead men, lying here andthere. Thus the tale of the survivors of the massacre was confirmed.
Corti gave his lance with the banderole on it to the guide. Bydirection his Berbers drove their lances into the earth that they mightleave them standing, drew their swords, and brought their bucklersforward. Then he led them into the field. A few words more, directionsprobably, and he started toward the enemy, his followers close behindtwo and two, with a rear-guardsman. He allowed no outcry, but graduallyincreased the pace.
There were two hundred and more yards to be crossed, level, except theslope, and with only the moving line of fire as an impediment. Thecrop, short and thin, was no obstacle under the hoofs.
The Turks watched the movement herded, like astonished sheep. They maynot have comprehended that they were being charged, or they may havedespised the assailants on account of their inferiority in numbers, orthey may have relied on the fire as a defensive wall; whatever thereason, they stood passively waiting.
When the Count came to the fire, he gave his horse the spur, andplunging into the smoke and through the flame full speed, appeared onthe other side, shouting: "Christ and Our Lady of Blacherne!" His longsword flashed seemingly brighter of the passage just made. Fleckings offlame clung to the horses. What the battle-cry of the Berbers we maynot tell. They screamed something un-Christian, echoes of the Desert.Then the enemy stirred; some drew their blades, some strung their bows;the footmen amongst them caught their javelins or half-spears in themiddle, and facing to the rear, fled, and kept flying, without oncelooking over their shoulders.
One man mounted, and in brighter armor than the others, his steel capsurmounted with an immense white turban, a sparkling aigrette pinned tothe turban, cimeter in hand, strove to form his companions--but it wastoo late. "Christ and our Lady of Blacherne!"--and with that Corti wasin their midst; and after him, into the lane he opened, his Berbersdrove pell-mell, knocking Turks from their saddles, and overthrowinghorses--and there was cutting and thrusting, and wounds given, andsouls rendered up through darkened eyes.
The killing was all on one side; then as a bowl splinters under astroke, the Turkish mass flew apart, and went helter-skelter off, eachman striving to take care of himself. The Berbers spared none of theovertaken.
Spying the man with the showy armor, the Count made a dash to get tohim, and succeeded, for to say truth, he was not an unwilling foeman. Abrief combat took place, scarcely more than a blow, and the Turk wasdisarmed and at mercy.
"Son of Isfendiar," said Corti, "the slaying these poor people withonly their harvest knives for weapons was murder. Why should I spareyour life?"
"I was ordered to punish them."
"By whom?"
"My Lord the Sultan."
"Do your master no shame. I know and honor him."
"Yesterday they slew our Moslems."
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br /> "They but defended their own.... You deserve death, but I have amessage for the Lord Mahommed. Swear by the bones of the Prophet todeliver it, and I will spare you."
"If you know my master, as you say, he is quick and fierce of temper,and if I must die, the stroke may be preferable at your hand. Give methe message first."
"Well, come with me."
The two remained together until the flight and pursuit were ended;then, the fire reduced to patches for want of stalks to feed it, theCount led the way back to the point at which he entered the field.Taking his lance from the guide, he passed it to the prisoner.
"This is what I would have you do," he said. "The lance is mine. Carryit to your master, the Lord Mahommed, and say to him, Ugo, Count Corti,salute him, and prays him to look at the banderole, and fix it in hismemory. He will understand the message, and be grateful for it. Nowwill you swear?"
The banderole was a small flag of yellow silk, with a red moon in thecentre, and on the face of the moon a white cross. Glancing at it, theson of Isfendiar replied:
"Take off the cross, and you show me a miniature standard of the_Silihdars_, my Lord's guard of the Palace." Then looking the Countfull in the face, he added: "Under other conditions I should salute youMirza, Emir of the Hajj."
"I have given you my name and title. Answer."
"I will deliver the lance and message to my Lord--I swear it by thebones of the Prophet."
Scarcely had the Turk disappeared in the direction of Hissar, when acrowd of peasants, men and women, were seen coming timorously from thedirection of the village. The Count rode to meet them, and as they wereprovided with all manner of litters, by his direction the dead Greekswere collected, and soon, with piteous lamentations, a funeral cortegewas on the road moving slowly to Constantinople. Anticipating a speedyreappearance of the Turks, hostilities being now unavoidable, CountCorti despatched messengers everywhere along the Bosphorus, warning thefarmers and villagers to let their fields go, and seek refuge in thecity. So it came about that the escort of the murdered peasantsmomentarily increased until at the bridge over the Sweet Waters ofEurope it became a column composed for the most part of women,children, and old men. Many of the women carried babies. The old menstaggered under such goods as they could lay their hands on in haste.The able-bodied straggled far in the rear with herds of goats, sheep,and cattle; the air above the road rang with cries and prayers, and theroad itself was sprinkled with tears. In a word, the movement was aflight.
Corti, with his Berbers, lingered in the vicinity of the field of fightwatchful of the enemy. In the evening, having forwarded a messenger tothe Emperor, he took stand at the bridge; and well enough, for aboutdusk a horde of Turkish militia swept down from the heights in searchof plunder and belated victims. At the first bite of his sword, theytook to their heels, and were not again seen.
By midnight the settlements and farmhouses of the up-country wereabandoned; almost the entire district from Galata to Fanar on the BlackSea was reduced to ashes. The Greek Emperor had no longer a frontier ora province--all that remained to him was his capital.
Many of the fugitives, under quickening of the demonstration at thebridge, threw their burdens away; so the greater part of them at anearly hour after nightfall appeared at the Adrianople gate objects ofharrowing appeal, empty-handed, broken down, miserable.
Constantine had the funeral escort met at the gate by torch-bearers,and the sextons of the Blacherne Chapel. Intelligence of the massacre,and that the corpses of the harvesters would be conveyed to theHippodrome for public exposure, having been proclaimed generallythrough the city, a vast multitude was also assembled at the gate. Thesensation was prodigious.
There were twenty litters, each with a body upon it unwashed and inbloody garments, exactly as brought in. On the right and left of thelitters the torchmen took their places. The sextons lit their longcandles, and formed in front. Behind trudged the worn, dust-covered,wretched fugitives; and as they failed to realize their rescue, andthat they were at last in safety, they did not abate theirlamentations. When the innumerable procession passed the gate, andcommenced its laborious progress along the narrow streets, seldom, ifever, has anything of the kind more pathetic and funereally impressivebeen witnessed.
Let be said what may, after all nothing shall stir the human heart likethe faces of fellowmen done to death by a common enemy. There was nomisjudgment of the power of the appeal in this instance. It is noexaggeration to say Byzantium was out assisting--so did the peoplethrong the thoroughfares, block the street intersections, and look downfrom the windows and balconies. Afar they heard the chanting of thesextons, monotonous, yet solemnly effective; afar they saw the swayingcandles and torches; and an awful silence signalized the approach ofthe pageant; but when it was up, and the bodies were borne past,especially when the ghastly countenances of the sufferers were undereye plainly visible in the red torchlight, the outburst of grief andrage in every form, groans, curses, prayers, was terrible, and theamazing voice, such by unity of utterance, went with the dead, andfollowed after them until at last the Hippodrome was reached. There theEmperor, on horseback, and with his court and guards, was waiting, andhis presence lent nationality to the mournful spectacle.
Conducting the bearers of the litters to the middle of the oblong area,he bade them lay their burdens down, and summoned the city to the view.
"Let there be no haste," he said, "for, in want of their souls, thebruised bodies of our poor countrymen shall lie here all tomorrow,every gaping wound crying for vengeance. Then on the next day it willbe for us to say what we will do--fight, fly, or surrender."
Through the remainder of the night the work of closing the gates andmaking them secure continued without cessation. The guards werestrengthened at each of them, and no one permitted to pass out.Singular to say, a number of eunuchs belonging to the Sultan werecaught and held. Some of the enraged Greeks insisted on their death;but the good heart of the Emperor prevailed, and the prisoners wereescorted to their master. The embassy which went with them announcedthe closing of the gates.
"Since neither oaths, nor treaty, nor submission can secure peace,pursue your impious warfare"--thus Constantine despatched to Mahommed."My trust is in God; if it shall please him to mollify your heart, Ishall rejoice in the change; if he delivers the city in your hands, Isubmit without a murmur to his holy will. But until he shall pronouncebetween us, it is my duty to live and die in defence of my people."[Footnote: Gibbon]
Mahommed answered with a formal declaration of war.
It remains to say that the bodies of the harvesters were viewed aspromised. They lay in a row near the Twisted Serpent, and the peoplepassed them tearfully; in the night they were taken away and buried.
Sadder still, the result did not answer the Emperor's hope. Thefeeling, mixed of sorrow and rage, was loudly manifested; but it wassucceeded by fear, and when the organization of companies wasattempted, the exodus was shameful. Thousands fled, leaving about onehundred thousand behind, not to fight, but firm in the faith thatHeaven would take care of the city.
After weeks of effort, five thousand Greeks took the arms offered them,and were enrolled.