Constantinopolis (6 page)

Mehmet smiled. “Do not worry my friend. I have other surprises in store for our Grand Vizier.”

THURSDAY, DECEMBER 7, 1452

A week later Mehmet had returned to Edirne and the palace. The flickering darkness of his room kept him calm. He was alert and awake even at this late hour. The palace slept, all save a few guards and servants. He was filled with anticipation. He had savored this moment for a very long time, his opening move in a game that would risk everything. He was ready, he had prepared and was willing to gamble, even if he was gambling his life.

He heard a soft knock at his door. “Come,” he commanded.

The Grand Vizier cautiously entered the room. He was still dressed in his sleeping robes and looked disoriented and fearful. He carried a plate filled with gold coins which he proffered to Mehmet.

The Sultan smiled to himself. So Halil feared him after all. An ancient custom required that trusted servants of a Sultan should bring a gold offering if ever they were summoned in the middle of the night. The gold was a last gift, a bribe to show loyalty, and to beg for their life. Mehmet was surprised Halil would be afraid. Didn’t he control the council against him? Wouldn’t the council depose Mehmet, and likely kill him if he acted against Halil? He thinks I’m stupid, Mehmet realized. He believes me so reckless that I might kill him, without realizing the consequences. How little you understand me Halil. But you will. You will.

Mehmet waived aside the gold and beckoned for his Grand Vizier to come further in and take a seat.

Halil cautiously took his seat, looking around him to see if an assassin would lunge out of the darkness. Mehmet poured Halil some water. Halil took it and drank slowly, as if the liquid were assuredly poisoned. The atmosphere was tense. “How may I serve you My Sultan?”

“By now I’m sure you have heard about my little building project on the Black Sea. Surely you will now agree we can proceed with a siege?”

Halil drew himself up to speak. He clearly had considered this issue, and prepared his response. “My Lord, I must still respectfully disagree.”

“Why? Wasn’t the city taken by the Latins by sea? Isn’t that the key to the city?”

“With respect Sultan, we are not the Latins. They have ruled the seas for hundreds of years. They are masters of it. I agree completely with your decision to build a fleet. We should learn the ways of the sea if we are to rule the world. But we cannot simply build these boats and set them on the waters expecting to dominate. We will have to learn the art of warfare over time.”

“So you do not think we can take the sea walls?”

“My Lord, the Greeks still have a fleet. There is also a small fleet at Galata across the Golden Horn. Although this is a Genoese rather than Greek city, we must expect they would rush to the defense of the Greeks in the event of an Ottoman fleet invasion. The Greeks have their terrible Greek Fire, which will burn our ships to the waterline. An attack by sea would be hopeless.”

“So you believe a fleet does nothing for us?”

“On the contrary My Sultan, a fleet is a tremendous advantage for us, both now and in the future. Again, I urge you to continue to build the fleet. Use it in the Black Sea against the Greeks and the Georgians. Let the captains and men gain experience. In the meantime, you can generate some victories against the Bulgarians and the Serbs, and against the Greeks in Moria. Once you’ve won some victories, and perhaps have let a decade or so pass, we might be in a position to attack the city. Again, I recommend against it as a whole. Even with everything I have described, you still are in danger of uniting the Latins against us if you lay siege to the city. And no matter what, you still face the land walls. In a thousand years, no one has breached them. How many nations and leaders have fallen beating themselves uselessly against the walls of Constantinople? The city is a curse. Let it rot on the vine. Your father tried to take the city and failed. He was
wise
enough to realize that the city had no power over him. He could simply let it fall on its own in its own time. They are insolent, I agree. Raise their tribute even further, the faster to bleed them to submission.”

Mehmet looked closely at Halil. “So that is it, is it? We can never move against the city until we can solve the land walls and stop the Latins from coming to Constantine’s aid?”

“Yes My Lord. You can try, in my opinion but you must fail. Again, your father was one of our greatest leaders. He won victory after victory. He succeeded in everything he set his hand to but . . .”

“But he could not take the city.”

“No. Even your father could not take it. In the prime of his life, with his people behind him and the full confidence and resources of the Ottomans, he could not take it.”

“Thank you Halil, I will think on what you say.”

The Grand Vizier smiled and rose to his feet, bowing to the Sultan. Mehmet rose to walk him out. The Grand Vizier turned and walked to the door, reaching to open it.

He felt a strong hand on his shoulder, he turned to see Mehmet close to him, menacing. The Sultan reached down and took the plate full of gold from Halil. He moved his head near Halil and whispered in the Grand Vizier’s ear. “Give me what I want Halil. Give me Constantinople.”

Halil shuddered. He seemed to hesitate.

The Sultan continued, still whispering. “If I give you peace with the west and I deliver you the walls, you will give me the city.”

Halil stared at the Sultan for a moment. He seemed about to leave. Finally he nodded once, and turned away, fleeing quickly into the darkness.

FRIDAY, DECEMBER 8, 1452

The following day Mehmet rose early and breakfasted on fruits and bread on his balcony overlooking Edirne. He loved the city. In many ways it was a better capitol than Constantinople. Inland, there could never be a surprise fleet appearing on the horizon to menace the capitol. Laying siege to Edirne would be difficult, and Mehmet would be able to draw troops both north and south to lift any such effort. But Edirne was not a great city. Constantinople not only stood strategically between two seas and two continents, it also was a tremendous symbol. The city was the successor to Rome, the seat of the Eastern Roman Empire for a thousand years. The ruler of Constantinople was the successor to the empire itself. The city also contained the great cathedral of St. Sophia, the greatest church in the Christian world. To convert St. Sophia into a mosque to the glory of Allah was worth capturing the city all by itself. To capture the last capitol of the Roman Empire and take on the mantle of the Romans would make Mehmet master of both east and west.

From there he could sweep west and capture Rome. He could also sweep north and take Hungary, and the German Kingdoms. The rest would fall quickly. Europe would be his. He could bring the true faith to these misguided sons of Christ. The Ottomans would rule the world. All of this was in his grasp. He had simply to take the city and all else would fall into place.

He eventually rose, dressed and made his way to the council hall where his ministers already awaited him. Zaganos was there, along with the Grand Mufti and of course Halil. He had assembled his entire council for the first time since September to review the status of the Sultanate.

After the bows and exchanges of pleasantries, Mehmet asked Halil to give a summary of the current displacement of the Ottoman forces and what information he had obtained about the Constantinople.

Halil bowed again to the Sultan. “Thank you My Lord. I would first note how impressed we all are by your forward thinking in beginning the construction of a fleet. Why you felt the need to do so secretly was somewhat more of a mystery—however it is
of course
your prerogative as Sultan to do as you please.”

There was some murmuring and Mehmet sensed not everyone approved of the Vizier’s statement. Or rather a number of ministers approved of the Vizier’s point.

Halil continued. “As discussed, the fleet should be utilized for operations in the Black Sea while we concentrate on some small scale operations in the Baltics, or perhaps in Anatolia. We then should . . .”

“Why not attack Constantinople now?” asked the Sultan.

Halil looked up from the interruption, taken aback. “I don’t understand my Lord? We just agreed yesterday that it was far too premature to proceed with such a . . .”

“No Halil, we agreed that if I could solve the land walls and assure peace with the West, then you would wholeheartedly support my proposal to attack the city. Isn’t that true?”

The Grand Vizier didn’t respond. He looked around the room slowly as if attempting to determine what to do. He exchanged glances with several councilmembers of the old guard. They could not communicate directly here. Mehmet knew that, which was why he had cornered Halil and why he was springing this plan on them here and now.

“Isn’t that true?” demanded Mehmet.

“Of course it is true My Sultan.” Halil chuckled nervously. “But come now, do you have flying carpets to whisk us over the walls?” Several people laughed. Mehmet stared around the room until there was quiet again.

“It is settled then, we will attack.”

“But My Lord. How do you propose to work these miracles?”

Mehmet shouted for a servant who brought in a parchment rolled up and sealed with wax. Mehmet took the parchment, broke the seal and displayed it to the room. “This is a treaty from John Hunyadi. I have given him free reign in Hungary and a promise of ten years of peace in exchange for his commitment that he will not come to the aid of the Greeks. He has promised us he will not interfere.”

Halil was white with shock. He clearly had not expected this turn of events. “That is quite the turn of events my Lord, but Hunyadi is not the west. He is but part of the problem.”

Mehmet pulled out two additional documents concealed in his robes. “Here are treaties from Venice and Genoa. They will not interfere. I have promised them trade rights in the new city under more favorable terms than the Greeks have given them. In addition, they look forward to unrestricted trade through the traditional trade routes. Our increasing pressure on Constantinople has badly hurt the Latin trade over the years. These infidels would rather sell out their Christian brothers for gold than come to their aid. That is why we will rule them all some day.”

Halil was even more surprised. He looked around again, assessing support. He was clearly unprepared for these new developments. Mehmet was very pleased. He had cornered Halil last night and forced him to commit to specifics. Now he was forcing the same thing before the council.

“So Halil, you can see that I have neutralized to a great extent any potential threat from the west. I know they can be unreliable. I know they may break treaties, but their promises should hold them for a while. At least long enough for us to be able to take the city.”

“Our Sultan has assured peace with the west, and he has solved the problems by sea. Can we not now proceed?” asked Zaganos. There was a murmuring of assent from the younger members of the council. “Surely this is Allah’s will? It is time.”

Halil glared at Zaganos and then returned his attention to the Sultan. He bowed. “My Lord, you seem to have thought of everything. How can we not all be impressed with your passion and your cleverness? But of course there remains the land walls. At the end of the day, nothing matters if we cannot breach the walls. And as you know, no hostile army has ever crossed the land walls of Constantinople. Even cannon balls bounce harmlessly off of them. What will we do? Spend a season crashing against them, as we have done over and over? Losing twenty men to every Greek we kill? That is what has happened each and every time in the past. And to what end? Eventually the Latins will break their treaties and come to Constantine’s aid. Has not Hunyadi already broken a sacred oath made with your father? How can we trust him now? And what is true of the Latins is even more true of the Persians and even our Muslim brothers in Anatolia. Show but a moment of weakness and they will strike. They do not yet fear you My Sultan, as I’ve argued again and again. Let us build that fear. Then we can worry about this pestilent city.”

“Do you deny you have promised me the city if I can solve the land walls?”

“I . . . I do not My Lord, but what does this matter? We talk of fantasies. Let us talk instead of what we can . . .”

“It is settled then,” said Mehmet. “When I bring you the walls of Constantinople, you will support me, Halil, and all of the rest of you will as well.”

Mehmet stared out over silence in the council. No one answered. Many could not meet his gaze. He played a very dangerous game. He had maneuvered Halil into a corner, but never is a snake more dangerous than when it has no place to which it can escape.

“All of you come with me.”

Mehmet led the council members out of the throne room and through the twisting halls of the palace. He could hear the whispering behind him.

He enjoyed this moment. A moment of triumph. He had learned so much from the earlier betrayals. Knowledge and secrets gave him power over these men, men in most instances older and with more experience. He had learned that it was not enough to be Sultan. A Sultan was just another man. He could be controlled, even killed, by any group of people who gained power over him. Like the empire itself, show a moment’s weakness and he would be devoured. He had learned instead that he must be the one to dominate men. He had learned that fear, and secrecy, as well as flattery, bribery and kindness, were tools he must use in equal measure.

He led the men out into a large courtyard. A new person stood waiting, bowing as Mehmet and the council came into view. He was an older man, obviously European, with white balding hair.

“This is Orban. Orban is a Hungarian with some very special talents. He attempted to offer these services to Constantine recently but our poor unfortunate friend could not afford them, so he came here instead. He named a sum for his services. I gave him much more than he asked for. I think you will agree this was a wise decision.”

Orban bowed again. “The Sultan is too kind to me. Are you ready for the viewing?” Mehmet nodded.