Siege

by Jack Hight

  'You certainly are in a hurry,' Murad laughed. 'You should not be so eager to escape the honour of the sultan's gaze.' He turned Sitt Hatun toward him, stroking her arm. 'Take your mask off, girl. Let me see your face.'

  Sitt Hatun froze, her mind seeking desperately for some means of escape. She could call out, but what would be the use? She could not run, Murad was holding her arm. And now, he was touching her hair. His hand was playing with the knot that held her mask, slowly loosening it. A few seconds now and she would be revealed. Sitt Hatun closed her eyes, her breath caught in her throat.

  'Murad!' It was Gulbehar, still nude and standing in the doorway to the reception room, her hands on her hips. Stepping past Sitt Hatun, she pressed herself against the sultan and purred into his ear: 'Leave my servant alone.' Murad released Sitt Hatun, and Gulbehar kissed him voraciously. Sitt Hatun slipped towards the exit.

  'Stop!' Gulbehar snapped, and Sitt Hatun froze. Gulbehar's eyes narrowed as she examined Sitt Hatun. 'What is your name, girl?'

  What could she say? She could not claim to be Anna. The deception would be too obvious. Only one other name came to her. 'Cicek, My Lady,' she said and bowed low, hiding her face.

  'Be gone, girl,' Gulbehar ordered. 'There's work for you in the kitchen.' She paused, and then added: 'And take off those clothes. You are not an odalisque in my court!'

  Sitt Hatun hurried to the harem kitchens. From there, she took a servant's passage that led to her own apartments. She collapsed on her bed, shaking as the fear that she had held inside spread throughout her body. After only a moment, though, she steeled herself, forcing herself to lie still. The danger had passed, and now was no time for weakness. What the girl Anna had told her was true. Gulbehar and Murad were lovers. Soon enough, she vowed, it would be Gulbehar who would have reason to fear. Sitt Hatun spent the next day dreaming of her revenge: how she would tell Mehmed; what Mehmed would do to Gulbehar; how she, Sitt Hatun, would mock her fallen rival. She dreamed, but she did not plan, not yet. After all, there was no hurry. She could not tell Mehmed until he returned from Manisa; there was no messenger that she would trust. And she had decided not to tell Halil. She did not need the vizier and his plan now that she had evidence of Gulbehar's infidelity. Sitt Hatun could look after herself.

  That evening she sent a note to Gulbehar requesting that Anna be sent to serve her, and content with Gulbehar's reply that Anna would be sent over the next morning, Sitt Hatun lay down to sleep, looking forward to dreams of vengeance and glory. She awoke with a start at midnight to the sound of a long, terrified scream, cut suddenly short. It had been a woman's voice, and it was strangely familiar. Hearing it, Sitt Hatun's blood ran cold. She listened for a long time, but there was no further sound. Eventually she sank into a troubled sleep.

  When she awoke the next morning the day was bright and fair, and the scream seemed distant and unreal — a nightmare better forgotten. Sitt Hatun allowed her odalisques to dress her, took a light breakfast of bread and olives, and then went down to the harem garden to read. She had hardly settled down when Anna arrived. From the moment that Sitt Hatun saw the girl's face, she knew that something was wrong. Anna bowed low. 'Gulbehar has sent me to serve you, My Lady. Do you find me to your liking?'

  Sitt Hatun nodded. 'You shall have a place in my household. Come, we shall retire to my apartment, and I will show you where you are to live.' Once they reached Sitt Hatun's apartments, she took Anna aside in her private chamber. 'Tell me,' Sitt Hatun commanded, whispering so as not to be overheard, 'is something wrong?'

  Anna nodded, her eyes downcast. 'Your friend, Cicek, is dead.'

  'How? What happened?'

  'Gulbehar accused Cicek of spying and thieving. Last night, men came and took her. She screamed for help, but they cut out her tongue. They tied her in a bag and threw her in the river.' Sitt Hatun could only nod her understanding as tears filled her eyes. Cicek had paid the price for her own foolishness. She dug her nails into her palms and clenched her jaw tight to prevent herself from sobbing.

  'There is more,' Anna continued. 'Gulbehar is furious over the disappearance of the kumru kalp. She suspects that Cicek gave it to you, and that you know about her and Murad. You are in grave danger, My Lady. I know Gulbehar. She will not rest until you are dead.'

  Chapter 7

  JANUARY 1450: GENOA

  The sun had long since set on a cold January day when Longo arrived at the palazzo of Signor Grimaldi to attend the feast being held in honour of the ambassadors from Constantinople. At the gate he dismounted and handed his horse over to William. He watched as the boy hurried off to the stables, no doubt eager to gamble away his few coins with the other squires. William disappeared into the stables, and Longo entered the grand hall of the palazzo Grimaldi.

  An enormous chandelier bedecked with innumerable tiny crystals hung from the ceiling, its many flickering candles shedding a glittering light. Candelabras lined the walls, adding to the bright glow. A long table ran down the centre of the room, and around it sat the chiefs of the great families of Genoa. At the top of the table, Grimaldi sat beside his eldest son, Paolo, and they both nodded in greeting as Longo's eyes met theirs. The foot of the table was reserved for the Greek ambassadors, and it was still empty.

  Longo spoke to a few men with whom he was on good terms and then took his seat beside his future father-in-law, Grimaldi. 'How are your vineyards?' Grimaldi's son Paolo asked, a trace of a smirk around his lips. Yesterday, someone had set fire to the dry winter vines in Longo's vineyards, forcing Longo to miss the council meeting called to discuss the Greeks' request for troops. Longo suspected that the fire had been set precisely to keep him absent.

  'The fire damaged some of my newer nebbiolo plantings — a great blow,' Longo replied. He locked eyes with Paolo before continuing. 'But do not worry on my account, Paolo. I will find who set the fire soon enough, and they will answer for it. As they say, those who play with fire are apt to get burned.'

  The moment of tension was interrupted by a blast of trumpets. The men around the table stood as the double doors leading to the hall from the palazzo were opened. The first ambassador to walk through was an elderly man, well preserved, with a long, white beard. 'Andronicus Bryennius Leontarsis,' the herald announced.

  Leontarsis moved into the hall, and following him, to Longo's great surprise, came the enchanting young woman he had met at the emperor's palace in Constantinople. 'Princess Sofia Dragases,' the herald intoned. She was elegantly dressed in a tight-waisted caftan of buttery-yellow silk and wore a thin golden tiara woven into her long black hair. What was she doing here? Longo wondered.

  Leontarsis and Sofia sat, and the Genoese followed suit. Immediately, servants stepped forth carrying an enormous platter on which sat a whole roasted boar. A low buzz of conversation sprang up around the table. Longo half-listened to the talk around him, while keeping his eyes on Sofia at the far end of the table. Finally, after the last course had been served, the room quieted. The real purpose of the gathering had arrived.

  Ludovico Fregoso, the Doge of Genoa, stood and raised his glass. 'To our honoured guests and to the prosperity of their fair city,' he toasted, and the assembled company drank.

  Fregoso sat, and Leontarsis rose in turn. 'To our Genoese allies, we thank you for your friendship and support,' he toasted. There was some grumbling when he said 'allies', and not all of those at the table drank the toast.

  'Your words are kind,' Fregoso said to Leontarsis, speaking in a voice loud enough so that all could hear. 'We have always prized the friendship of the Roman emperor, and I am sure that many Genoese will rush to your aid if ever there is need.'

  'Many Genoese?' Leontarsis asked. 'And what of Genoa herself? Will the republic stand beside Constantinople?'

  'If the Turks attack,' Fregoso replied, 'then the Republic of Genoa will offer the services of a ship and crew to Constantinople, to serve as a link to the world and as a scourge upon the Turks.' One ship. Longo was not surprised, but he was still disapp
ointed.

  'We thank you for your promise of help,' Leontarsis said, 'and if the day comes when the Turks attack, we hope that many brave Genoese will rally around this one ship.'

  That seemed to settle the matter. The men around the table had gone back to their food and private conversations when Sofia spoke out loudly. 'I should think that the Genoese would leap at the chance to defend Constantinople,' she said. 'After all, you would be defending not just the Empire of the Romans, but your colony of Pera as well. Surely you would not want to lose your door to the East?'

  'What do you know of such matters, woman?' Paolo snorted and took a long drink of wine. 'You should save your talk for the bedroom.' Sofia flushed crimson as quiet laughter spread around the table.

  'That is quite enough, Paolo,' Grimaldi said. 'I apologize for my son's lack of courtesy, Princess. But he is right. Fighting the Turks will only antagonize them. I regret to say it, but Pera will perhaps be more secure if the Turks take Constantinople. They at least have the strength to protect our interests there.'

  'You truly believe your colonies will be safe in the hands of the Turks?' Sofia demanded. 'The Venetians thought the same of Salonika, but the Turks took it all the same. No, signor, you should not be so fast to trust the Turks.'

  'Hear, hear!' Umberto Spinola shouted from the centre of the table. 'The Turks are heathens!' he slurred, obviously drunk. 'We should not deal with the devil.'

  'The Turks may be heathens, but no more so than the people of Constantinople,' replied the powerful Signor Adorno. 'They have rejected union with the one true Church for years now. Why should we fight and die for men that spit on our religion?' There was mumbled assent at this remark.

  Longo stood. 'Enough! I have fought the Turks. I have stood face to face with them, and I know the difference between a Turk and a Greek. I have already pledged my sword to Emperor Constantine's service. If Constantinople is attacked, then I will defend its walls.' He drew his sword and laid it on the table. 'Who will stand beside me?' He looked at the men around the table and then at Sofia. She nodded her thanks.

  There was silence as men shifted in their seats. Finally a young noble, Maurizio Cattaneo, stood. He was followed by a few others — the two di Langasco brothers and the three Bocchiardo brothers. They were all young men with little in the way of inheritance, who had nothing to lose by selling their lives in foreign lands. None of them would bring many troops to the battle, but Longo was glad for their support nevertheless. One by one, they drew their swords and laid them on the table.

  'On behalf of the emperor, I thank you all for your courageous offer,' Leontarsis told them. 'But please, keep your swords for now. You may have need of them.' The men sheathed their swords and sat. 'I would also like to thank Signor Grimaldi, our host tonight, and all of those who have made us feel welcome in this city. Our emperor will be most pleased, and Constantinople will always have a place in its heart for Genoa. To Genoa!' he concluded, raising his glass.

  'To Genoa!' the assembled men replied in chorus as they stood and drained their glasses. The toast marked a fitting conclusion to the dinner, and afterwards Grimaldi led them outside to the gardens behind the palazzo, where his private musicians played by torchlight under a star-strewn sky. Braziers filled with warm coals had been set up at frequent intervals to ward off the night chill, and the guests moved amongst them in the shadows, discussing politics and drinking chilled sweet wine.

  Longo had hardly stepped outside when he was cornered by Leontarsis. 'Signor Giustiniani, allow me to again express my thanks for your offer of aid.'

  'No thanks are needed,' Longo replied. 'My fellow Genoese may not see it, but the fight against the Turks is our fight as much as it is yours. Either we fight them now, or we fight them later; but fight them we will.'

  'I agree entirely,' Leontarsis said. 'If you could only persuade a few of your more powerful countrymen to join you, then the emperor would be most appreciative. He would compensate you accordingly.'

  'If I could persuade them, then I would, with or without compensation. Besides, I do not need your money. Nor do many of the men here.'

  'Money is not what I offer.' Leontarsis pointed to Sofia, who stood nearby in earnest conversation with several men. 'You have surely noticed the Princess Sofia. She is beautiful, is she not?'

  'What are you saying?'

  'The emperor feels that the Princess Sofia would make an appropriate match for a man who truly helped our city in its time of need.'

  'I see,' Longo replied. He knew that this was how marriages were arranged, but still, he felt a stab of jealousy at the thought of this woman being sold off to one of his countrymen. 'And what does the princess think of such an arrangement?'

  'What the princess thinks is of no importance,' Leontarsis replied.

  'Indeed?' It was Sofia. Neither Leontarsis nor Longo had noticed her approach. 'Is that why you thought not to tell me that I have been placed on the market for the highest bidder?'

  'I was only following the emperor's orders, Princess,' Leontarsis said. Then, recovering himself, he added more confidently, 'Why do you think that he agreed to allow a woman on this trip in the first place? Surely you did not think that it was your political skills that were desired?'

  'As you said, what I think is of no importance,' Sofia replied, her voice quiet but hard. 'But I will tell you what I know, Leontarsis. I am a princess of the royal family, not a slave to be sold, not by you. If you offer me up as a prize again, you will regret it.' She turned and strode away into the darkness.

  'I am sorry you had to witness that, signor,' Leontarsis said. 'But my offer stands.'

  'I am not a mercenary to be bought,' Longo replied curtly. 'Good-night, Ambassador.'

  Longo walked away, looking for Sofia. He found her alone, nearly hidden in the shadows at the edge of the torchlight.

  'Have you come to inspect your merchandise?' Sofia asked, her eyes flashing with anger.

  'I am engaged to marry another, but even if I were not, my sword is not for sale, even for so high a price,' Longo told her. 'If my presence grieves you, I will withdraw.'

  'No, stay,' Sofia replied more softly. 'It is not you that I am angry with, Signor Giustiniani. Indeed, I should be thanking you for what you did tonight. I apologize for my rudeness.'

  'You have no need to apologize. I understand that it is not an easy thing to be married against one's will.'

  'You are a man, signor. What can you know of such things?'

  'Sometimes men are not so free to choose. We are all of us compelled by duty.'

  Before Sofia could reply, Grimaldi appeared, seeming to materialize out of the darkness. 'There you are, Signor Giustiniani,' he said. Turning to Sofia, he bowed low. 'Princess Sofia. It is an honour to meet you face to face.'

  'Princess, this is Signor Grimaldi, the father of my intended,' Longo told Sofia, who curtsied.

  'I am sorry, Princess,' Grimaldi said, 'but the evening is nearly over and I must take Longo away from you. He must rise early tomorrow to wait on my daughter. He is taking her on a voyage to my family's home in Bastia, on Corsica. Longo has business there.'

  'Corsica is near Rome, is it not?' Sofia asked.

  Longo nodded. 'With a favourable wind, it is only a half-day's sail from Corsica to Ostia, the port of Rome.'

  'Then if it is not too much of an imposition, I wonder if you could carry me, Leontarsis, and our servants to Rome when you sail for Corsica. We travelled overland from Venice, and our ship is meeting us in Rome. I am eager to arrive there as soon as possible, and I do not relish the prospect of another overland trip. I am told that the roads to Rome are thick with bandits.'

  Longo looked to Grimaldi.

  'Of course,' Grimaldi said. 'I am sure Longo would be delighted to be of service, and my daughter will be honoured to meet you. Now, if you will excuse us, Princess.'

  'It was a pleasure meeting you, Signor Grimaldi,' Sofia said. 'Until tomorrow, Signor Giustiniani.'

  Sofia moved away, rejoin
ing the party. Longo turned in the opposite direction, towards the stables, but Grimaldi held him back. 'A moment, signor,' he said. The old man looked hard into Longo's eyes. 'Be careful, Signor Giustiniani. It would be wise to watch your step around the princess during your voyage to Rome.'

  'Surely you do not doubt my intentions, nor the honour of the princess.'

  'I do not doubt your honour; but I saw you with the princess, and I do not doubt my eyes, either,' Grimaldi replied. 'Good-night, signor. I will see you tomorrow.' The pre-dawn air was thick with chill fog when Longo rode into the courtyard of the palazzo Grimaldi the next morning. His stomach — usually so calm, even on the eve of battle — was knotted tight. It twisted still further when he saw Julia — thin and frail, dressed in a tightly corseted blue velvet dress that emphasized her budding breasts — and helped her into her carriage. The tension in his belly seized his throat when he arrived in the courtyard of the Fregoso palace and saw Sofia emerge, ravishing in a green cloak, a long divided skirt and high riding boots. Longo got down from his horse and offered Sofia a hand into the carriage, but she only laughed. 'I wish to ride,' she told him. 'I have yet to see much of the city.' And with that, she swung herself into the saddle of one of the horses that had been prepared for the Greek ambassador's retinue. Leontarsis, grumbling about how his old joints hurt in the morning damp, gladly took Sofia's place in the carriage.

  The sun rose above the hills behind them, burning off the morning mist and warming the chill air as they rode the short distance to the docks. Sofia smiled and laughed, asking the names of buildings and plazas. She seemed more alive than she had the night before, totally at ease in the saddle. Her buoyant spirits lifted Longo's mood, and soon he too was smiling, the knots in his stomach loosening. By the time they reached the docks and loaded all of the baggage aboard la Fortuna, the chilly dawn had transformed into a glorious winter morning. Longo gave the order to make way and left one of his men at the wheel, while he went forward to stand at the rail with Sofia, Julia and Leontarsis. They glided across the bay of Genoa under a favourable wind, the ship cutting confidently through the short, choppy waves.