Siege

by Jack Hight

  'And what do you think?' Sofia asked.

  Bessarion shrugged his shoulders. 'Me? What does it matter what an old fool like me thinks?' It mattered very much indeed, Sofia thought. Bessarion was the only person with enough influence to convince the pope to support Constantinople. After a pause, Bessarion continued. 'I think that union is good for the faith, and good for the empire. I have always believed that. That is why I am here in Rome. That is why I am a cardinal. I also believe that Constantinople must be helped. It is not so very far, after all, from Constantinople to Vienna, or from Vienna to Rome. If we could have aid for Constantinople without union, then I would be for that. But that is not to be, and I understand the pope's reluctance. Nicholas is more concerned with the Church than with Constantinople. If he could be convinced that the Union will be implemented, then he might act. But after this letter from the Synaxis, I fear he will be very hard to convince.'

  'But not impossible?'

  'Nothing is impossible with God's help, my child,' Bessarion replied. 'But God will have to work a small miracle to change the pope's mind. I am not so sure, however, that the pope is wrong. My fellow bishops ran me out of Constantinople for supporting the Union, and just look at how they have treated poor Patriarch Mammas. I do not believe that union is possible as long as such men control the Orthodox Church.'

  'I agree,' Sofia concurred. 'But what if these men were not in power? What if we could break the Synaxis?'

  Bessarion nodded. 'Go on, Princess. You have my attention.'

  'Give the Synaxis what they want,' Sofia said. 'That is the way to break them.'

  Bessarion frowned. 'I'm not quite sure I follow you.'

  'The bishops of the Synaxis draw all of their strength from their opposition to the Union,' Sofia explained. 'Agree with them on the small issues, and they will be forced to agree with the Union. Once they do, they will lose all of their power with the people.'

  'But these are hardly small issues. Surely you are not suggesting that the pope agree to the doctrine of the equality of all bishops, or that he deny one thousand years of teaching and accept that the Holy Spirit proceeds only from God?'

  Sofia nodded emphatically. 'That is exactly what I am suggesting. The pope must condone the Greek liturgy, overlook any theological differences, and at least formally accept the equality of all bishops. If he does all of this, then the Synaxis will have no choice but to embrace the Union.'

  'But what you ask for is nothing less than a complete renunciation of the Roman Catholic position!'

  'Not a renunciation, Bessarion,' Sofia insisted. 'A compromise, and a temporary one at that. The important thing is that the pope will retain real control of the Church. In a few years time, once the people have grown used to the Union, then he can reverse his decrees and slowly bring the Orthodox Church into line with the Latin Church. This is the only way that union can be achieved — slowly, or not at all.'

  'There are others who have thought as you do,' Bessarion mused. 'But you ask much of the pope. I know what Nicholas will say to this. Is not protecting the truth of God to be placed above whatever secular gains the Union might bring about? I wonder the same.'

  'But what does the truth matter, if there is no one left to teach it to?' Sofia replied. 'If Constantinople falls to the Turks, then any chance to save the Greeks will be lost. Surely it is better for the pope to bring the Orthodox Church into the fold, however imperfectly, than to leave it outside true salvation forever.'

  'Enough, enough,' Bessarion said. 'You have made your point, Princess. I will discuss what you have told me with the pope.'

  'And?'

  'And,' Bessarion smiled, 'I will do my utmost to ensure that he finds your arguments convincing.' Dinner that night was held in the pope's private dining room around a table that accommodated only ten guests. The room was decorated on three sides with frescos depicting the deaths of saints, and the paintings seemed to come alive under the flickering candlelight. The fourth side of the room was lined with arched windows looking out on the lights of Rome, burning brightly in the clear February sky.

  The pope sat at the head of the table, with Sofia and Bessarion to his right and left. The rest of the guests were cardinals and bishops who Sofia did not recognize. The table was set with silver, gold and crystal — a sharp contrast to the plain wooden dishes that served the Greek court. Each course was more delicious than the last: a tartara of egg, cheese and ground almonds, spiced with cinnamon and served with sweet white wine; fried sardines stuffed with marjoram, sage, rosemary and saffron, accompanied with a sparkling Lambrusco; hare with a fennel and almond sauce and a full-bodied red from Montepulciano. While the assembled cardinals and bishops gorged themselves, Pope Nicholas ate little and spoke much, engaging Sofia and Bessarion in philosophical debate upon the merits of Saint Augustine and the brilliance of Averoes.

  As the evening dragged on with no mention of union or the Synaxis' letter, Sofia's mind drifted away from the conversation, which currently focused on the question of free will. She found herself thinking of Longo, of their kiss. She wondered what he was doing now, if he thought of her, and at the same time wondered why she should care so much.

  She was brought back to the present by a tap on the shoulder from Pope Nicholas. To her embarrassment, she realized that he had just asked her a question. 'I fear you were somewhere else for a while, Princess,' Nicholas said, smiling. 'Perhaps you were contemplating the beautiful logic of Aquinas.'

  Sofia blushed. 'Something very like, yes Your Holiness,' she murmured.

  'I was asking what you think of the basilica of Saint Peter,' Nicholas said. 'I am contemplating tearing it down and replacing it with a grander structure.'

  Sofia was surprised at this. The basilica was a spectacular building. Its towering entrance — massive columns leading to two tiers of arches that held up a peaked roof — was justly famous around the world as a symbol of the papacy. 'Saint Peter's has stood for over a thousand years,' she said. 'I would hesitate to destroy something so ancient.'

  'The laws and beliefs of the Catholic Church are also ancient, Princess, yet the Synaxis would have me cast them aside. They claim it is to build a greater, unified Church, but just as you say, I am reluctant to destroy something so ancient, so beautiful.' The Synaxis at last, Sofia thought. The other guests fell silent and leaned forward to hear her reply.

  'You would not be destroying the beliefs of the Church,' Sofia countered. 'You would only be adding to them.'

  'And what if I grant the Synaxis' requests and they still refuse union? I will have humbled the Church for nothing, and perhaps ruined any chance of ever achieving a true union.' Assent echoed down the table. Only Bessarion kept quiet.

  'What you say is true,' Sofia replied. 'The Synaxis might still reject union, even if you accept all their demands. But then the emperor will be free to force the Union through, even if he has to remove every bishop in the Synaxis. They will be unable to stop him, for they have already agreed to union on these terms by signing the letter.'

  'If only I could be as sure as you are, Princess, that Emperor Constantine would indeed enforce the Union even over the complaints of his clergy.'

  'If Leontarsis were not ill, I am certain that he would be here to pledge the emperor's word. But, since he is not, I will pledge it myself as ambassador of Constantinople.' Sofia offered a silent prayer of thanks for Leontarsis's absence. He would have promised no such thing, and in doing so would have ruined all of her hard work.

  Nicholas nodded. 'Very well then,' he said. 'I believe that this matter is settled. After the details are attended to, I shall hold an audience where I will recognize the desires of the Eastern bishops, as a prelude to a true union of the Church. I do hope that Leontarsis will be well enough to attend that meeting.' Nicholas winked. 'In the meantime, let us begin dessert, and there is a question that I have for you, Princess, concerning our friend Aquinas…' The audience the pope had promised came sooner than Sofia had expected, only three days later. Sofia w
as visiting the studio of the famed painter Vittore Pisano when a messenger entered and told her that she was to come to the pope's audience chamber immediately.

  Sofia found Leontarsis wringing his hands as he waited for her outside. 'Do you know why we were summoned so suddenly?' Sofia asked. 'Is the pope ready to officially recognize the Synaxis' demands?'

  Leontarsis shook his head. 'I thought we were still weeks away from any declaration. Yesterday, we were still working out the exact language of how the pope would be referred to in the unified Church.'

  Far above, in the tall square tower of St Peter's basilica, the bells began to toll the hour of noon, and the doors swung open before them. Sofia's eyes went first to the pope, sombre on his throne, and then to the man standing beside him, the man whose presence explained the suddenness of this audience: Gregory Mammas, Patriarch of Constantinople.

  Sofia and Leontarsis reached the throne together and made their obeisances before the pope. Nicholas gave them a brief, strained smile, and then bid them rise. 'Leontarsis, Princess Sofia,' he began. 'Your presence at our court has been most welcome, as have been the kind words that you have brought from Emperor Constantine. Know that you will both always be welcome in Rome.' Both Leontarsis and Sofia bowed in recognition.

  'You have offered wise council, and we have had much to reflect on,' Nicholas continued. 'In light of all that we have heard and learned, both from you and from the recently arrived Patriarch of Constantinople himself, we declare and decree, in the name of God the Father, the following response to Constantine, Emperor of the Romans.'

  A tonsured priest stepped forward and began to read from a sheet of parchment: 'If you, with your nobles and the people of Constantinople, accept the decree of union, you will find Us and Our venerable brothers, the cardinals of the holy Roman Church, ever eager to support your honour and your empire. But if you and your people refuse to accept the decree, you will force Us to take such measures as are necessary for your salvation and Our honour.'

  Sofia frowned. The pope's declaration was even worse than she had feared. It was a wholesale rejection of the Synaxis and all they had asked for. 'But Your Holiness,' Sofia protested, 'this will only strengthen the Synaxis. What of your decision to accept their demands?'

  The pope only shook his head; it was Mammas who answered her. 'The Synaxis and the people who follow them are fools and heretics. They will never agree to union,' he said. 'Giving in to their demands will only make them bold and sanction their unholy attempts to usurp the power of the patriarch. If they will not willingly join the Union, then they must be made to join. There can be no compromise with such people.'

  Sofia ignored him and addressed the pope again. 'You would turn your back on Constantinople then? You are abandoning us to the Turks!'

  'No,' Nicholas sighed. 'You yourself said that Constantine has the power to force the bishops to adhere to the Union. I agree with Mammas. It is not reason that prevents the Greeks from accepting the Union, but stubborn pride. Let Constantine force their adherence, and then we will send what aid we can to your city. Until that time, we cannot help those who lie outside of the Church. The fate of Constantinople is in God's hands.' Nicholas paused, and when he spoke again his voice was softer. 'I am sorry, Princess, but I cannot place even your advice over the word of the patriarch. He knows his flock better than you or I ever could.'

  Sofia nodded, not trusting herself to speak. She bowed and strode from the room, not even waiting for the pope's dismissal. Once outside the audience chamber, she leaned against the wall and sank to the floor, her head in her hands. She had failed. This entire trip had been for nothing. One ship each from the Venetians and Genoese, and now no help from Rome. They might as well have never come.

  'Princess?'

  Sofia looked up to see Mammas standing above her, shifting awkwardly. 'What do you want?' she snapped.

  'I see you are upset with the pope's decree,' Mammas said. 'You must forgive me, then, for bringing yet more bad news. I know that you were close to the empress-mother. She died just before I left Constantinople.'

  'What?' Sofia asked. How could this have happened? With Helena gone, there was no telling what Constantine would do, whose influence he would fall under. Sofia stood to look Mammas in the eyes. 'How did she die?'

  'Shortly after you left, her illness worsened. The empress-mother dismissed her doctors and confided herself wholly in God. She refused to receive anyone other than Constantine and her confessor. Unfortunately, her condition worsened rapidly. I understand that she was rarely lucid over the last few weeks, but she received extreme unction before she passed.'

  Sofia could only nod as tears filled her eyes. She had lost Helena, her friend and protector, and Constantinople had lost the pope's blessing. The palace around her and the city outside suddenly seemed painful and foreign. Whatever awaited her in Constantinople, Sofia was ready to return home.

  Chapter 9

  MAY 1450: EDIRNE

  Sitt Hatun sat cross-legged amidst a profusion of cushions, surrounded by an evening meal fit for a sultan. Low stools were arranged in a semicircle before her, and on each sat a copper dish heaped with food. To begin, there were roasted almonds, dried apricots and tangy dolma — vine leaves stuffed with onions, rice, dill and mint, all mixed in lemon juice. Then there were the side dishes that formed the backbone of any Turkish meal, prepared in the harem kitchen with unparalleled skill: a cool, creamy yoghurt dip; a basket of freshly baked girde, a crisp flatbread that melted in the mouth; and a huge platter of boiled rice drizzled with olive oil and sprinkled with black pepper. The main dishes were a whole roasted chicken, with golden skin and tender meat falling from the bone, and Sitt Hatun's favourite, nirbach — a rich stew of diced lamb and carrots flavoured with coriander, ginger, cinnamon and pomegranate syrup. To drink, she had a pitcher of refreshing ayran, a mix of yoghurt and water flavoured with salt and mint. The mix of pungent smells made her stomach rumble, but she did not eat.

  Anna sat across from Sitt Hatun. The Polish girl was even thinner than when Sitt Hatun had taken her into her service months ago. They always dined together, and Anna always ate first. For although Sitt Hatun had official tasters to check for poison, she did not trust them. They had already failed her twice, and both times Anna had come close to death. While Anna lay sick, Sitt Hatun ate nothing but fruit that she herself picked from the harem garden. Anna had just now recovered from the last poisoning, and Sitt Hatun was looking forward to her first full meal in weeks.

  Before eating anything, Anna sniffed carefully at each of the dishes. 'I do not recommend the dolma,' she said as she put the dish aside. 'Nor do I trust the nirbach. It is richly spiced, perhaps to cover a poison.'

  Sitt Hatun signalled for a servant to take the offending dishes away. She would take no chances. 'At least we shall not go hungry,' she said. There had been times when all of their food was tainted. On those days, her entire court went hungry, for they dined on whatever Sitt Hatun did not eat. Sitt Hatun would order the food sent back to the kitchen and force her servants to watch while her, or head chef, was forced to eat from every dish. It was an instructive lesson for the others in her court.

  Anna now began to taste the food. She ate a few almonds, and they both waited while their stomachs twisted from tension and hunger. After several minutes, Anna handed the plate to Sitt Hatun. 'You may eat,' Anna told her. While Sitt Hatun ate the nuts, Anna tasted the rest of the food, pausing for several minutes between each dish. By the time she passed the chicken to Sitt Hatun, more than an hour had passed.

  Sitt Hatun scooped up some of the thick yoghurt dip with a piece of flatbread and ate it with a morsel of chicken. She closed her eyes to savour the taste. When she opened them she found a eunuch standing at the doorway to her chamber. She recognized him as Davarnza, one of the secretaries to the grand vizier, Halil.

  'I bring a message, My Lady,' Davarnza said. He bowed low and presented a folded piece of paper. Sitt Hatun took it and read quickly: 'Gulbehar has
hired assassins to murder you this very night. The sultan himself has given his consent, and your guards have been bribed to let the assassins do their work. I will help you escape the palace, if you accept my offer.' The letter was unsigned.

  'I am to wait for a response,' Davarnza told her. Sitt Hatun had no doubt as to the truth of what Halil wrote. She could try to flee on her own, but she would be lucky to escape the palace, much less the city. She could beg Murad for mercy, but this tactic was even less likely to succeed. Halil was the only person who could help her. Much as she dreaded the prospect of giving herself to him, Sitt Hatun knew that she had little choice.

  'My answer is "yes",' she said.

  'Then you are to have this.' Davarnza handed her another note. It read: 'My man, Isa, will come for you tonight. Pack nothing; he will provide. He will bring you to me. Afterwards, you will travel to Manisa and tell Mehmed what Gulbehar has done in his absence.'

  Sitt Hatun dismissed Davarnza, and then tore the two notes into tiny pieces. She ate the pieces one by one, washing them down with the cool ayran. When she was done, she ordered all of her servants but Anna away, and then tried to sleep. She needed her rest. It would be a long night. Sitt Hatun woke shortly after nightfall. She armed herself and Anna with daggers, and they arranged pillows in Sitt Hatun's bed to mimic her sleeping form, before moving quietly into the adjoining room. They shut the door behind them and sat down on Anna's bed to wait. There was no moon, and the night settled thick and dark, so that Sitt Hatun could barely make out Anna sitting mere inches away. The busy noises of the harem slowly faded until Sitt Hatun could hear nothing but her own breathing and the racing of her heart. She sat wide awake, straining to hear the slightest noise. Outside, she heard the night watch change — the distant sound of laughing voices and tramping boots. That meant that it was midnight, and still no sign of Isa. Sitt Hatun began to have doubts. What if Halil had betrayed her?