Mark tossed his head to the side slightly which prompted one of his men to take the gun out of Hastelloy’s hand. “Cuff him and let’s go.”
“If I am taken from this room, I will not utter another word and your opportunity to finally have answers will have slipped away from you once more,” Hastelloy declared.
“Oh believe me, you’ll talk,” Jeffrey heard his brother say with a cold hard edge to his words even an arctic freeze could not match. As a humanist, the very idea that his government once used torture on captives during the height of panic following the events of 9-11 brought him deep sorrow and shame. The insinuation that his brother was about to employ those same detestable tactics on the patient standing before him was enough to send Dr. Holmes into action.
“Keep him here, in my office,” Jeffrey offered. “Hastelloy has been talking to me for weeks and seems perfectly willing to continue talking right here. What good will relocating him do if the patient is adamant about not talking anyplace but here?”
Mark looked upon his brother as if he were the most naïve person alive. “He is not simply a patient. He used you to get to me. He is an extremely dangerous terrorist who must be taken into custody.”
“Funny, you’ve spent five minutes with him and think you know everything,” Jeffrey responded with a very hurt undertone. “I have spent a week and a half getting to know him, and I am telling you your best bet for any kind of answers is talking to him right here. Have these guys stand guard inside and out while the two of you talk. I have other things I need to do outside this office anyway.”
“The three of us will talk,” Hastelloy objected. “If Dr. Holmes stays as well, I give you my word you will have answers with no escape attempts from me.”
A skeptical scowl from Mark prompted the patient to then look directly at Dr. Holmes. “Have I not always been a man of my word?” He then looked back at Mark to ask, “Do we have an accord?”
Mark got to his feet once more and peered intently at Hastelloy taking measure of the man’s honor. Next he looked at Jeffrey who did his best to convey to his brother that he did take Hastelloy at his word. Finally he eyed one of his team members. “Two outside the building, two right outside the office. Call for backup and close the door on your way out.”
With the room’s occupancy down to three, Hastelloy and Dr. Holmes sat down in their chairs once more with Mark sitting across the coffee table on the couch. “Pardon the interruption; please continue,” Mark said with legs crossed and hands clasped neatly in his lap.
Chapter 38: Get In Line
“Why do we have to walk so far, Father?” Pang asked for about the hundredth time. It was all Liu could do not to turn around and slap the boy. The Sheng family did not have much, but they did have the tradition of quietly carrying their burdens with pride and honor. There was no honor in the constant whining of his son. The boy was eleven years old now, it was time he understood his lot in life and accepted it.
“We go because master Zhu has called a meeting of the Lords,” Liu said between huffs. The journey on foot was indeed long, especially without any food in their stomachs to give them energy. The flood that came from the incompetently maintained dams upriver washed away his crops and food stores. Then the drought caused his planted seeds to wither away in the ground. “Besides, what else is there for us to do now besides sit and die staring at our barren fields?”
The purpose of the gathering was almost certainly to discuss a rebellion against the current emperor. At first Liu did not carry any particular love or hate for Kublai Khan and his leadership. So long as his taxes remained reasonable and the leadership competent, what did he care to whom the proceeds went. Truth be told, even if he were forced to contribute a few extra bushels of wheat per season, it was not worth picking up a sword and risking his life in battle.
Competent leadership was the issue, however. Maintenance on the dams was neglected for years in favor of constructing the emperor’s palace; a grotesquely massive and opulent city unto itself. Now the nation starved, and it was time for change, but it would not come easy. Dozens of minor lords constantly fought amongst themselves, but only a unified effort would prevail against the emperor and his legendary armies.
Talk of rebellion could wait, however. Pang’s unusually loud whimper let Liu know it was time for a break. He spotted a semicircle of rocks under a large tree by the roadside with a fire pit still smoldering from a traveling party’s encampment the night before. “Come; let’s rest for a few minutes to regain our strength.”
Liu removed his circular straw hat and leaned it against the tree as he sat upon one of the stones. He allowed the sack slung over his right shoulder to fall off to the ground and he reached in to pull out the last fist sized steamed bun for him to share with his exhausted son.
He tore the roll in two and handed half to Pang. “We only have a few more miles. We’d have been there last night if your constant complaining did not force us to stop so often. You are almost a man now. In two more years you will be married and working a farm of your own to support a family of your own. You must accept your responsibilities. To do otherwise is a waste of effort.”
“Our family has no food, we should be home hunting so mother and the twins can survive,” Pang protested. “That is our responsibility, not marching across the countryside to a worthless meeting.”
The selfish arrogance Liu observed in the next generation brought him great sorrow. “Men who are our betters have ordered the gathering. We are under Master Zhu’s care and must trust that he knows best.”
“And Zhu is under the emperor’s care and now orders a gathering to talk about rebellion,” Pang countered. “He questions the wisdom of authority over him, and we should do the same rather than just blindly following orders. I only trust our masters to do what is best for them, not us.”
Liu vented a huff of frustration through his nostrils and licked the last bread crumbs from his hand. He then snatched his straw hat and fastened it to his head once more and continued walking along the dirt road. Pang did the same and ran to catch up to his father, matching his angry strides. The young man knew better than to press the matter further. The two made the rest of the journey in silence.
A silent hour later, Liu heard the rhythmic beating of horse hooves approaching quickly from up ahead. The dirt road came to a peak in another fifty feet which he recognized as the last hill to climb before master Zhu’s fortress came into view. The thunderclaps drew near and Liu put his arm in front of Pang moving them both well off to the side of the road. An instant later a panting black blur whooshed past, and it was not the last. In all, ten horses with riders blew past without a word.
“I wonder what has them in such a hurry,” Liu asked as the two continued walking in the weeds alongside the road just in case more would follow. As they crested the hill they were able to see hundreds of tents, large and small, set up across the landscape surrounding Zhu’s fortress.
Ten minutes later Liu and his son reached the gatehouse with the portcullis drawn closed with a guard standing firm on the other side. “We are here for the gathering.”
“It’s over,” came a gruff reply.
“What do you mean?” Liu asked with a sense of futility at having made the long journey for nothing. “The banquet was last night and talks were to begin today.”
“Everyone at the banquet is dead, poisoned by the emperor,” the guard reported.
“E. .everyone? Even Zhu?” Liu managed through his profound state of shock.
The sentry shook his head to the side and allowed a faint smile to grace his lips. “No, Master Zhu fell ill but survived thanks to the care of two visitors from the west. Now he rallies all the banners behind his cause to seek revenge.”
Liu let out a heavy sigh of relief at the news. He did not know any of the other lords so he did not mourn their loss. In fact, he drew encouragement from the news as the squabbling factions were suddenly united in a common cause to overthrow that Mongol monster from t
he north. Kublai Khan was an animal without honor who oversaw an army of animals. When a dog turned rabid it had to be put down, and Liu was honored to join the effort to avenge the wrong perpetrated against his master.
“How can we be of service?” Liu asked, but the question met deaf ears as the guard’s attention was turned behind him with the approach of an armed column of pike men marching toward the gate.
“Open the gate,” a pale skinned foreigner with an exotic accent ordered in passable Mandarin. The man must have been one of the foreign visitors who now seemed to serve as Zhu’s military advisors in return for saving his life.
As the pike men marched past, a second foreigner stopped in front of Liu and Pang. “Who are these two?” he asked of the guard with the same exotic accent as the other man shouting orders to the marching column.
“Late arrivals for the gathering,” came a crisp reply from the gate guard.
“Fortune seems to favor you; now grab a pike and get in line,” the foreigner ordered in a tone that left nothing for debate. Liu did as ordered without a second thought and Pang followed suit.
Chapter 39: Bombardment
Though he was the architect for it all, Valnor could scarcely believe he was once again standing outside the stout city walls of Constantinople. Three months. Once Sultan Mehmed II was convinced to invest the resources needed to build the monstrous cannon, it only took three months to lay the molds, forge the massive bombard and transport it into position to menace the city.
Accompanying the grand cannon were about eighty thousand of the Sultan’s closest friends, including ten thousand Janissaries who served as his elite infantry. This compared to roughly seven thousand defenders who seemed unconcerned by the siege. They knew that many had tried and failed to take the city. They were confident that so long as the walls stood the ratio could be a million to one and the city would still hold out.
As Valnor stood alongside the Sultan under the sizeable shadow cast by the massive cannon, he observed that the walls of Constantinople now looked much less forbidding than before.
“You had better be right about this,” Sultan Mehmed said coldly.
“I am,” Valnor answered. “However, even with the Theodosian Walls leveled, if all their defenders are focused on our entry point they will inflict heavy losses upon your men.”
The Sultan slowly turned his head to look right at Valnor and delivered his cold reply. “In the end, war always turns into a bloody business. Such is the life of a soldier.”
“We can make that life much easier on your men by threatening to open a second avenue of attack on the city,” Valnor offered. “We should make the naval blockade a credible threat for attack along the Golden Horn. That will force them to man the battlements along the sea wall drawing thousands away from the real point of assault to make victory that much easier and less costly to your ranks.”
Sultan Mehmed dropped his arrogant façade for a moment to consider Valnor’s suggestion. “That is a worthwhile plan, but they have stretched a series of boom chains across the entrance. There is no way to get through the opening and threaten a landing.”
“The peninsula reaching out to create that narrow mouth is only about a mile wide if I am not mistaken,” Valnor pondered. “It would not take much to cut the trees and create a road of greased logs to transport galleys over land and into the waters of the Golden Horn.”
“Could that really be done?” the Sultan asked one of his many generals clustered around the massive cannon being assembled.
The officer looked at the thirty foot long metal body of the cannon and then at the five dozen oxen used to haul it into position. “Those ships are certainly no heavier than this cannon. I do not see why it would not be possible. It will take a few days to accomplish, but with the three hour reload time this bombard weapon requires between each shot, we should have the time to spare.”
Sultan Mehmed pursed his lips in contemplation and then finally gave his orders. “Make it happen. Now, let us see what this grand weapon I spent so much treasure building can do.”
All but the crew of twenty men with cotton wadding in their ears stepped a hundred yards back from the cannon. A gunner holding a billowing torch looked up for permission from his Sultan to light the fuse. Mehmed raised his arm and thrust it toward the city walls. An instant later a bone jarring explosion sent a six hundred pound piece of stone on its way.
Five long seconds later, Valnor watched the boulder strike ground three quarters of a mile away. It landed twenty feet in front of the wall and then slammed into it on the second bounce. Even with the severely reduced velocity, the strike managed to topple the upper half of the wall in a section fifty feet wide. The awesome power of the weapon was undeniable.
Valnor lowered the lens of his magnifying viewer and handed it to Sultan Mehmed to inspect the impressive damage inflicted by just one shot that, in reality, was mostly a miss. He looked over at the cannon in time to see the last remnants of smoke clearing away and the crew already at work reloading the weapon with the explosive black powder he concocted for this occasion.
Valnor ran over to the crew to make sure the next shot was even more impressive. “Raise the angle half a degree and load one of the specials now that we have the range set.”
To pass time, the Sultan and his entourage of officers adjourned for their midday meal and returned in time to watch the second shot sent on its way. This time the projectile buried itself into the base of the wall on the fly causing the section of wall to teeter and lean but not crumble.
A few seconds later the fuse on the metal ordinance reached the black powder stored in the center. The resulting explosion blasted the section of wall completely apart with large fragments sent several hundred feet into the air. When the smoke cleared, a gaping hole a hundred feet wide with a crater ten feet deep appeared where the proud defensive wall once stood.
“One down, eight to go,” the Sultan proudly declared.
The results were better than Valnor could have ever expected, but he also knew they all would not fall this easily so he needed to temper Mehmed’s expectations. “The outer section of city walls was constructed in the eleventh century and is by far the weakest. This will take time, Your Majesty.”
“Not nearly as much time as starving them out,” the Sultan commended. “Move in the regular troops and take each layer of walls as they fall. Continue the bombardment night and day until we reach the inner city, then send in the Janissaries to finish this business for good.”
True to Valnor’s prediction, progress after the first ring of walls fell was much slower. The key factor slowing things down was the weapon’s propensity to overheat from excessive use. The gunner crews learned early on that loading the cannon too soon after firing left it hot enough to ignite the black powder on its own with disastrous effect. Dozens of crewmen had lost their lives to premature explosions, but the bombardment pressed on.
Eventually, after a month of constant assault from the massive cannon, everything was set for the final push. The navy had drawn thousands of defenders away to the sea walls, and the cannon was bracketed in for one last explosive shell that would unleash the elite Janissary infantry unimpeded into the city.
Before ordering the final shot, Valnor experienced a disheartening moment of introspection. Constantinople was the last echo of prosperity remaining from the Roman Era. The Empire’s capital city was relocated to Constantinople not long after the fall of Rome. In his previous existence as Augustus Caesar he almost singlehandedly forced the great empire to be a guiding light for the developing world to follow. Now here he was fifteen hundred years later giving the order that would bring down his creation once and for all. He lamented the loss, but as Captain Hastelloy would boldly declare, it was for the greater good.
“Fire,” Valnor ordered and through the darkness of midnight he saw the distant explosion level what was left of the city’s last line of defense. A minute later he heard a collective battle cry rise up from the eager Ja
nissaries and bloody tyranny was unleashed upon the last great Roman city.
Valnor followed the flow of Ottoman soldiers into the city as the defending troops retreated towards the harbor. This left Constantine and his loyal guards to their own devices. To his credit, the emperor and his men managed to hold off the Janissaries through the night until morning, but eventually the weight of numbers won out.
In his final moments, Constantine threw aside his purple regalia and led the final charge against the incoming Ottomans, dying in the ensuing battle among the streets along with his soldiers. The man may have lacked the vision to use Valnor’s cannon design for his own benefit, but in the end he was indeed quite brave.
After the initial assault, Sultan Mehmed’s soldiers fanned out along the main thoroughfare of the city. He had the forethought to send an advance guard to protect key buildings as he did not wish to establish his new capital in a thoroughly devastated city.
The army converged upon the Augusteum, a vast square that fronted the great church of Hagia Sophia. The bronze gates were barred by desperate civilians seeking divine protection inside the building, but none would come. The doors were breached in short order and the troops separated the congregation according to what price they might bring in the slave markets. Such was the scene around the great city as Sultan Mehmed allowed his men to plunder the rich metropolis for three days after the fighting ceased.
Valnor had no interest in the financial treasures found in the posh districts of the city. Instead, he made his way to the university to see if the scholars were more inclined to share their knowledge with the world at large now that their safe haven was no more.
Chapter 40: Rebellion
Cora felt the presence of Kublai Khan along with four Alpha warriors approaching her revered location on top of the temple mount inside the palace. These last few months had been the most frustrating of her existence and she was anxious to get an update on the situation.
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