Siege

by Jack Hight

  The guards paused when they saw that Sitt Hatun and Anna were alone, and that Anna was holding a sword. 'What are you doing here, captain?' Sitt Hatun asked calmly. She would not send the guards after Isa. After all, he had saved her life once, and besides, Isa's visit would be difficult to explain without revealing Bayezid's presence in her apartments.

  The captain bowed low. 'We heard your screaming, Sultana,' he said. 'We came as quickly as we could. Are you all right?'

  'As you can see, I am fine. Thank you for your vigilance, captain, but it was only a dream that startled me. You may go.' The captain looked dubiously from Anna's sword to the bloodied candlestick lying on the ground.

  'An odalisque was killed tonight in Sultana Gulbehar's quarters, and the prince Bayezid is missing,' he said. 'Are you sure that you have seen nothing? The assassin may still be loose in the harem.'

  'Then I suggest that you go and find him, captain.'

  'Very well, Sultana. But I will leave a guard outside your quarters.'

  'You have my thanks,' Sitt Hatun said. The captain bowed and led his guards from the room.

  When they were gone, Bayezid appeared in the doorway. He ran to Sitt Hatun and buried his head in the fold of her dress. 'Is it safe?' he asked. 'I knew that they would come for me, just like my mother said. Are they going to kill me?'

  Sitt Hatun gently stroked his head. 'There, there,' she told him. 'No one will harm you, Bayezid. You are safe.' By the time Isa reached the harem kitchen, the entire palace had been alerted that an assassin was on the loose. He just managed to squeeze into the kitchen sewer and pull the grate back over his head before a troop of eunuch guards came marching through the kitchen. Isa squirmed through the tunnel as quickly as he could. He emerged outside the wall and glanced above him. The archers were no doubt on high alert now, but Isa had no time to wait. He sprinted across the open space next to the wall, heading for the mouth of a nearby alley.

  Arrows hissed past his head, but Isa reached the alley safely. Still, he did not stop running. The twisting, narrow streets of Edirne were an easy place to lose oneself, and he knew the guards would not catch him now. But it was not the guards that worried him. The news of his failed assassination attempt would travel fast, even at night. If Isa wanted to see his family freed, then he had to reach them before their keeper learned of his failure.

  Isa ran without stopping until he reached the quarter where his family was kept. He slowed. The quarter was quiet, all dark streets and windows. There were no soldiers on the street. He had made it in time. He slipped back into the shadows and headed for the house where his family was kept. When he reached it he strode directly to the door and pounded on it. There was no response, so he knocked again. Finally, he heard a noise inside. After a minute, the door opened.

  In the doorway stood a tall, well-muscled man with a bushy beard and a large birthmark on his forehead. He wore leather breeches and a close-fitting wool tunic. For three years this man had been the keeper of Isa's family. Isa knew nothing about him, not even his name, but he hated him all the same.

  'What are you doing here?' the man asked. 'You were not to come until the prince is dead.'

  'The prince is dead,' Isa lied. 'I have come for my family.'

  The man's eyes narrowed. 'I have heard nothing of this.'

  'I killed Prince Bayezid in his bed, not half an hour ago,' Isa replied. 'His death will not be discovered until morning.'

  The scarred man yawned. 'Then come in the morning. Your family will be freed then, not before.'

  The man began to shut the door, but Isa blocked it with his foot. 'I am through waiting. I have done all that Halil asked. My family is free now, and I will wait no longer. Take me to them.' He reached for a pouch on his belt. 'I will not ask you again.'

  The man at the door took a step backwards at the sight of the pouch. 'Put that away,' he said. 'You will have no need of your poisons here. If you are in such a hurry then come. I will take you to your family.'

  He let Isa into the house and led him down a corridor with several rooms opening off it. A dozen men lounged in these rooms — the guards Halil had assigned to keep Isa from his family. His family was confined to the upper floor, where it would be more difficult for them to escape. They reached the stairs, and the scarred man stopped and motioned for Isa to go first. He stepped past the man and hurried up the narrow staircase. The heavy door at the top of the staircase was unlocked. Isa pushed it open and stepped into the dimly lit hallway, which was a mirror-image of the one on the floor below. 'They are in the second room on the right,' the keeper said from behind. 'The door is unlocked. They are waiting for you.'

  Isa needed no further instruction. He hurried down the hall and pulled the door open. The room had no windows, and it was very dark, lit only by the light from the door. Isa could not see his family. 'Jina!' he called. 'Children?' No response. He entered and was immediately assaulted by a powerful odour of decay. Something was very wrong here. 'Jina?' he called again in rising panic. He took a few more steps into the room before he saw his family. His wife and two children were slumped motionless against the far wall. He rushed across the room and knelt beside his wife. Her throat had been slit, as had the throats of his daughter and son. Judging by the decayed state of their bodies, they had been dead for several days.

  'Halil told me to thank you for your service,' the keeper said from the door. 'But you are too dangerous to leave alive. As Halil promised, you'll be joining your family now, forever.' Isa ran for the door, but before he was halfway there, it slammed shut. The room went black. Isa heard a deadbolt slide to, and then another.

  He stumbled back across the dark room to the door and pounded on it with his fist, but there was no response. 'You will pay for this!' he shouted. 'You will pay!' Still, there was no reply. He yanked on the handle, and then kicked the door hard. It did not budge. The door was made of solid oak. It would take an axe to bring it down. He was trapped.

  Isa slumped to the floor and sat still. Despite all that he had done, despite all his years of working for Halil, he had failed his family. His life meant nothing now. But if he could not save his family, he would at least avenge their deaths. 'Halil,' he mumbled to himself. He repeated the name over and over again, like a mantra. It gave him strength. There was purpose in his life yet. He would see to it that Halil suffered as he had suffered.

  But first, he would kill his family's keeper. And before he did that, he would have to escape. Isa closed his eyes and cleared his mind, forcing himself to ignore the putrid smell of the corpses of his beloved wife and children. He had time to think. The keeper would most likely leave Isa there to starve, but if Isa was lucky, then the man would come back to kill him. Isa could deal with him then. Even if he had to face every guard in the house, Isa was determined that his life would be dearly sold. If no one came, then Isa would simply have to find another way out.

  He closed his eyes and meditated, trying to focus his thoughts on the task at hand. He had been sitting for only a few minutes when sweat began to trickle down his shaved head and he noticed that the door at his back was growing hot. He touched the wall next to the door and then the floor. They were all warm. He put his nose to the crack at the bottom of the door and smelled smoke. With alarm, Isa realized that the house was on fire. The keeper intended to burn him alive.

  Isa rose and moved around the room, feeling the walls for any cracks, any weakness that could be exploited. There were none. He moved around the floor, stomping and checking for loose planks, but gave up after only a few seconds. If he did manage to make it through the floor, then he would probably only find himself in the fire. Isa moved back to the walls, coughing as smoke began to fill the space. He had to find a way out soon. He began to circle the room again, this time knocking on the walls. He moved along the wall to the left of the door, then turned the corner and moved to the back of the room. Still nothing. The smoke was thick now, rising up between the floorboards to sting his eyes and burn his throat. He raised his s
hirt to cover his mouth, but still he gasped and choked as he started out along the wall where his family lay. Again, he heard only the dull knock of his hand on the hard plaster. He was beginning to lose hope when he heard something different. At waist height, directly over the body of his wife, the wall reverberated with a hollow thumping sound. He put his head to the wall and listened as he struck it again, harder. Thump. The wall was not solid. There must have once been a door or a window there that had later been plastered over.

  Isa drew his knife and scraped at the wall, but to little effect. A few bits of plaster came away, but nothing more. Desperate, he stood back and then kicked the wall as hard as he could. It trembled slightly. He kicked it again, and the shaking was more pronounced. He was about to kick again, when he turned and saw that the door to the room was on fire and that the flames were spreading to the walls and ceiling around it. He had no more time. He moved to the middle of the room, and then turned and ran towards the wall. He lowered his shoulder and hit the wall moving full speed. He heard a crash, felt the wall give, and the next thing he knew he was flying through empty space. He fell only a few feet before he landed with a painful thud on the roof of a neighbouring, one-storey house. He rose unsteadily, coughing from the smoke he had inhaled. He had separated his shoulder when he hit the wall, and it was pulsing with pain. But he was alive…

  Isa staggered across the flat roof, away from the burning building. He reached the edge of the roof and dropped into the alley below. Then he leaned his shoulder against the wall of the alley, and with a wrenching motion, popped his shoulder back into its socket, clenching his jaw to keep from crying out. When the wave of agony had passed, he left the alley and circled around until he reached the street that ran towards the burning house. People were hurrying past, carrying buckets of water from the well to throw on the fire. Somewhere, a bell was ringing. At the house itself, a crowd of spectators had gathered to watch the flames. His family's keeper was standing amongst the onlookers.

  Isa took a vial filled with a dark, viscous liquid from inside his tunic and carefully poured three drops on to the blade of his knife. He worked his way through the crowd, approaching the keeper from behind. When he reached him, Isa sliced the knife quickly along the back of the man's neck, leaving a small cut. The man grabbed at his neck and turned to face Isa. The man's eyes went wide with surprise. He opened his mouth but could not speak. The poison was acting too fast. Isa grabbed the man and pulled him close. 'The poison you are experiencing is taken from crushed cherry laurel leaves,' he whispered as he wiped his knife on the man's shirt. 'You will be dead in a few seconds. A better fate than you deserve.'

  The man began to shake all over as Isa released him and stepped away, slipping back into the crowd. He watched as the keeper collapsed, shaking violently. A veiled woman screamed. The rest of the crowd backed away, frightened. 'What's happening to him?' someone asked. The keeper's entire body was contorted now. Foam ran from his lips. 'He's possessed!' someone shouted. Then the keeper froze, his body rigid, his eyes protruding. He twitched a few final times and then lay still. He was dead.

  Two men dragged his body off to the side, where his family, the authorities or the dogs — whichever reached him first — would deal with him. The rest of the crowd turned back to watch the fire. Isa watched with them. Men continued to rush forward with buckets of water. Within an hour it was clear that the fire would not spread, and the crowd began to thin. Isa waited until the crowd had all long gone and the last ember had ceased to burn. Then, he walked over the ashen ruins of the burned house. He scooped up a handful of ash and placed it in one of the pouches that hung from his belt. This was all that he had left of his family. Dawn was breaking as he left the smoking ruin behind him and strode away towards the Maritza river to catch a boat to Constantinople, where he would find Halil.

  Chapter 19

  MONDAY 7 MAY 1453, CONSTANTINOPLE: DAY 37 OF THE SIEGE

  Torch in hand, Tristo marched through one of the dark tunnels far beneath the Blachernae Palace, hurrying to finish his midnight inspection so that he could move on to more entertaining pursuits. Although he had destroyed most of the tunnels, he had left some standing, afraid that bringing them down might also bring down the palace and walls that stood above them. These remaining tunnels had been bricked up, and Longo had placed guards at the end of each of them. Tristo had already inspected three of the guard posts and was on his way to the final one. This tunnel, situated under the Gate of Charisius, was the furthest from the palace. He found the two guards — Benito and Roberto, men who had fought beside Longo for years — seated on the floor and leaning against a barrel of gunpowder. A lantern hung from the wall, illuminating a game of dice.

  'Benito, Roberto, how goes it?' Tristo asked.

  'Well enough,' Roberto replied. 'Considering that I can't seem to win.'

  Tristo crouched down and watched as Roberto lost yet again. 'Never fear,' Tristo told him. 'Bad luck never lasts forever.' Roberto nodded glumly. 'Now, you both know your orders?'

  'If we see any sign of the Turks, then blow the tunnel and run for help,' Benito replied.

  'Good. Somebody will be here to relieve you at first light.'

  Tristo turned and stomped off down the tunnel. As soon as he was out of sight, Roberto and Benito resumed their game. But Roberto's rotten luck did not change, and after only an hour Benito had relieved him of his last few coins. 'Now what?' Roberto grumbled.

  'If we can't play, then at least we can get some sleep,' Benito replied. He patted his full purse. 'I'll dream of all the beautiful Greek women that your money will buy me.'

  'Fine, but you take first watch as punishment for your cursed good luck. I'll dream of winning my money back.' And with that Roberto lay down on the floor and closed his eyes. Within a few minutes he was snoring loudly.

  Benito watched Roberto sleep and wondered if his winnings were enough to afford the fetching, high-priced Greek girl that he had had his eye on. He was entertaining himself with thoughts of his time with her when he heard a faint noise, a scratching sound barely audible over Roberto's snoring. Benito cocked his head, trying to locate the sound, but the noise did not repeat itself. Perhaps it had merely been a rat, scrambling across the floor in the distant darkness. Then Benito heard the sound again; this time it was a clearer, chinking sound. He shook Roberto awake.

  'It's not my turn already, is it?' Roberto asked.

  'Listen,' Benito told him.

  'To what?'

  'Just listen.' They waited in silence, and after a few seconds the chinking noise returned, louder this time. 'There! Do you hear that?' Benito asked.

  'It sounds like it's coming from over here,' Roberto said as he put his ear to the wall. 'I can hear it better now. It's close. It sounds like a pick, like somebody digging. Wait — I hear a voice. I think it's a Turk!'

  The words had no sooner left Roberto's mouth than the blade of a pick smashed through the wall, striking him in the head and killing him instantly. He slumped to the floor, and torchlight poured through the hole where his head had been only a second before. Turkish voices filled the passage.

  Benito wasted no time. He took the lantern and lit the fuse to the powder keg that would destroy the tunnel. Then he ran. The fuse was a short one, and he would not have much time to get beyond the range of the blast. After a minute, Benito stopped. The powder should have gone off by now, but he had heard nothing. That meant that the fuse had failed or, worse, the Turks had broken through the wall and extinguished it. And if the Turks were in the tunnel, then Benito had to raise the alarm. He turned to run, but had taken only a few steps when a crossbow bolt slammed into his back, dropping him. Despite the pain, he crawled forward, crying out for help as he went. His voice reverberated down the passage, but there was no answer. Then the Turks reached him, and Benito's cries were silenced with a single blow of a sword. His severed head rolled to the side, his now silent mouth still stretched open to scream. The passage fell silent save for the quiet shuffle of
hundreds of Turkish feet. Longo and Sofia sat naked on her bed, a chessboard between them. She watched as he puzzled over his next move, his brow furrowed. Finally, he took her rook with his bishop. Sofia smiled. Longo did not know it yet, but four moves later he would lose his queen and three moves after that the game. 'That was a mistake,' she told him. 'I've got you now.'

  Longo looked back at the board and groaned as comprehension dawned. He leaned over and kissed Sofia. 'You are too clever by half,' he told her. 'Perhaps you should be leading the defence of the city.'

  'And what would you do then?'

  'I would be your second in command,' Longo replied. 'What do you command me to do, great leader?'

  'I command you to come over here,' she said, laughing.

  A loud knock on the door to Sofia's apartments interrupted them. Longo sprang from the bed and hurriedly pulled on his breeches. 'Who could that be at this hour?' Sofia wondered as she pulled on a robe. The knocking grew louder and more insistent. 'I will take care of it,' she told Longo. 'You stay here.' She left the bedroom but had not yet reached the door to her apartments when it crashed open and Notaras entered at the head of a dozen armed men.

  'Where is he?' he demanded.

  'Notaras! How dare you!' Sofia exclaimed indignantly.

  'Where is he?' Notaras repeated, grabbing Sofia by the arm.

  'I don't know who you are talking about,' Sofia said. 'No one is here but myself and my maidservants.

  Notaras released her and turned to his men. 'Search the apartments and find him. I'll inspect her bedroom.'

  'You cannot!' Sofia protested, stepping in front of Notaras. 'These are my private chambers. You have no right to be here!'