Longo left the emperor’s quarters near midnight but did not leave the palace. Instead, he made his way to Sofia’s apartments, sticking close to the shadows. The palace was all but empty at this hour, and he saw no one until he reached Sofia’s quarters. She was at the door, waiting for him.
‘Come,’ she whispered. ‘Follow me.’ She led him into her apartments. They passed from the waiting room into her bedroom, where Sofia pressed a tile on the wall and a portion of it swung open, revealing a hidden passage. She took a candle and stepped into the darkness. ‘This way. We can reach the kitchens without being seen.’
She closed the door behind him. The passage was narrow, and the tiny light of the candle only reached a few feet in front of them. ‘I did not know of these tunnels,’ Longo whispered as they walked. ‘Are they for servants? Who else knows of them?’
‘I do not know why they were originally built,’ Sofia said. ‘But I have never seen another person in them. I found them as a child.’
‘Do they run throughout the palace?’
Sofia nodded. ‘Shh,’ she added, dropping her voice even lower. ‘We must not talk until we reach the kitchen. The walls are thin here. We might be overheard.’ They walked on in silence; the only sound the quiet scuffing of their feet. The tunnel branched several times, but Sofia moved on without hesitation. They went down two tight spiral staircases, and then came to a dead end. A tiny spyhole in the wall before them glowed red from the light outside. Sofia put her eye to it. ‘We are in luck. No one is here,’ she whispered. ‘Come. We must hurry before someone returns.’
She pushed on a hidden catch and then pulled. The wall swung open towards them, and the dim red light of a banked fire lit the passage. They stepped out into a little-used corner of the kitchen. Knives and pots hung everywhere, and on the opposite wall was a huge fireplace – twenty feet wide and ten deep – where a banked fire smouldered. Sofia pointed to a torch in a bracket on the wall beside the fireplace.
Longo took the torch, and they hurried through the kitchen to a stairwell leading down to the storage area, where barrels and sacks of grain were stacked to the ceiling. Sofia led Longo to another staircase, and they descended into the damp darkness of the dungeons.
‘We can talk freely now,’ Sofia said as she led Longo into the high-ceilinged entrance to the dungeons. ‘No one will hear us down here.’
‘What is this place?’
‘These were the palace dungeons, but they have been abandoned for many years now,’ Sofia answered as she led Longo to the right down a long passage. ‘Now only bones remain.’
They entered another room, startling a group of bats. The bats swooped down from the ceiling, squeaking shrilly and flapping about their heads. Sofia raised her arms to protect her head, and Longo put an arm around her, pulling her close as he waved the torch above them to keep the bats away. When the last of the bats had disappeared, Sofia stiffened and stepped away. Longo could still feel the warmth of her body beside him. They stood still for a second, but the moment passed. She turned and led the way to another stairwell.
‘You came all this way by yourself?’ Longo asked as they descended. ‘In the dark?’
‘Does that surprise you?’
‘Most ladies are not overly fond of dark dungeons, or bats for that matter,’ Longo said, looking around him. ‘In fact, most men would hesitate to come here alone. There is something unnerving about this place.’
‘Well then, you are lucky to have me to protect you,’ Sofia said with a smile as they came to the end of the hall and stepped into the old torture chamber. Sofia went to the far side of the room, where she had rehung the tapestry as best she could. She pulled it aside and tugged the door open. ‘I fear the fall of Constantinople more than bats or darkness.’
‘You seem to fear very little, Princess.’
‘I fear those things that I cannot control,’ she said as she led him into the tunnel. ‘The success of our men in battle, the future of our empire, even my own fate. Princess is a pretty title, but I would gladly trade it for a chance to choose my own destiny, to do as I wished, love who I …’ she cut herself short.
Longo stopped. ‘You do not love the megadux, then?’
Sofia turned to look at Longo. ‘No, I do not love him.’ She moved on ahead, her face lost in the shadows. ‘But I speak too much,’ she said. ‘I am a princess. I cannot choose who I marry.’
They walked in silence until they came to the large, round chamber with tunnels branching out from it. Sofia went from tunnel to tunnel, feeling for the telltale gust of wind that indicated the tunnel led to the outside. ‘Do you know where these other tunnels lead?’ Longo asked.
‘According to the map, they lead to other points in the city,’ Sofia replied. ‘They are all blocked up now, I suspect, or else the tunnel outside the city would have been discovered long ago.’ She stopped before one of the side passages; a gentle breeze was ruffling her hair. ‘Come. This is it.’
They did not walk far before they came to the gate blocking the tunnel. ‘It is locked,’ Sofia said. ‘I was able to squeeze through, but I’m afraid that this is as far as you will be able to go.’
‘Perhaps,’ Longo said, examining the rusty chain and lock. ‘Step aside, Princess.’ He handed Sofia the torch, and then drew his sword and struck hard at the chain. Sparks flew, and the chain dropped to the ground. The gate swung open, screeching on protesting hinges. ‘After you,’ he gestured, and they continued down the tunnel.
The ground was sloping upward now, and the torch burned brighter in the fresher air. The boom of the cannons grew louder and then faded again as they walked. ‘The Turks,’ Sofia said suddenly. ‘I heard that you were one of them once, a janissary. What are they like?’
‘Ordinary men, for the most part,’ Longo said. ‘It is not an easy life, that of the janissary. They are taken from their parents as children and forced to serve the sultan. They either learn to love him or to hate him.’
‘And you hate him?’
‘The janissaries killed my family when I was only a child. I have searched for the man who killed them all my life. For a long time my hatred of him was all that I had.’ They both fell silent until they came to the jumble of rocks at the end of the tunnel.
‘This is it,’ Sofia said. ‘The exit has been destroyed, but there is a passage through the rocks, here. I did my best to cover the exit.’ Crouching down, Longo could see a sliver of starlit sky at the other end of a narrow passage. He handed the torch to Sofia.
‘Go back and tell my men, William and Tristo, what you have found,’ he told her. ‘If there is no messenger you can trust, then go yourself. Tell them to bring men to guard the tunnel and explosives to destroy it. If I’m not back by noon, then they are to destroy the tunnel.’
‘Where are you going?’
‘Out there,’ Longo said. ‘The Turks will not be content to bombard the walls forever. I will never have a better chance to find out what else they are up to.’
‘That is mad!’ Sofia protested. ‘They’ll kill you!’
‘As you said, I was a janissary once,’ Longo told her. ‘I know my way around a Turkish camp.’
‘Be careful, then.’
‘You too, Sofia. And hurry.’
Sofia nodded, but did not move. They stood close together, Longo staring into her eyes. He thought he saw fear there, and love. Finally, Sofia turned to go, then stopped. ‘About that night
in Corsica …’ she said, turning to face Longo. ‘Perhaps it was wrong, but I do not regret it.’
‘Nor do I,’ he replied. He stepped forward and kissed her. After a brief pause, she pressed herself against him, and he put his arms around him. Her mouth opened, and Longo felt her tongue slide against his. He pulled her more tightly to him. Finally, she pulled away.
‘If I were free to love …’ she began, but then hesitated. The torch trembled in her hand, and her eyes were wide and shining.
‘No one can tell you who to love,’ Longo said softly.
Sofia nodded and took a step closer to Longo. ‘I know,’ she whispered. She kissed him again, quickly, and then, before he could reply, she turned and was gone.
Dawn was still at least three hours away when Longo emerged from the tunnel and on to the hillside beyond the Turkish camp. The darkness was intense, and he slipped unseen up to one of the sentries and dispatched him silently, covering his mouth as he slipped a dagger between his ribs. Longo donned the dead janissary’s armour and headed into the Turkish camp, passing hundreds of grazing mules and lowing cattle before entering amongst the tents.
Despite the early hour there was a surprising amount of activity. On the outskirts he saw dozens of carpenters busy making ladders, bow makers stringing weapons and blacksmiths at their forges. As he passed amongst the tents of the janissaries, Longo heard all around him the quiet rasp of weapons being sharpened. He saw many men seated around fires, eating as they prepared their weapons and armour. Here and there he heard the excited clamour of a game of dice.
The janissaries grouped their tents by
orta
, or battalion, and at the centre of each
orta
was a large mess tent that bore the battalion’s emblem. Longo walked through the tents until he came to a symbol that he knew well – the double-bladed sword of Ali, embroidered in red on a tent from which flew a triangular green flag. It was
the standard of one of the
solak
imperial guard units from Edirne, the elite amongst the janissaries. At the nearest fire several battle-hardened men were eating, using stiff flatbread to scoop a pilaf of boiled wheat and butter from a common pot. Longo took a seat among them, broke off a piece of bread and gestured for someone to pass the food. One of the janissaries began to pass the pot, but another, grey-haired man stopped him. The older man wore a vest lined with fox fur, the mark of a battalion commander, and the double-bladed sword emblem was tattooed on his shoulder. He squinted at Longo. ‘I don’t recognize you,’ he said at last, in Turkish.
‘I’m from one of the Salonika
orta
,’ Longo explained in perfect Turkish.
‘Then why don’t you go back there.’ It was not a question.
Longo smiled. ‘I was a little too lucky at dice tonight,’ he said and patted his full purse. ‘I’m afraid I’m not exactly welcome in my
orta
. The Saloniki are not good losers.’ Longo was taking a risk. While the rule was rarely enforced, gambling was officially forbidden amongst the janissary. The
orta
commander could have Longo caned on the soles of his feet for admitting to luck at dice.
The old janissary’s eyes moved from Longo’s face to his fat purse, and then the man grinned. ‘Those coins of yours sound like a burden. We’d be happy to relieve you of them,’ the janissary said. He took out a pair of dice and rattled them in his hand. ‘Give us a chance to win some of your purse, and you will be welcome at our fire.’
‘Very well,’ Longo said. He reached into his purse and then tossed a golden asper before him. ‘But I have to warn you: I’ve been very lucky.’
The old janissary grinned, and the other janissaries chuckled. ‘Luck never lasts forever,’ the old janissary said, and threw the dice. They landed double sixes – a perfect first roll. Longo went on to lose the game, and after that, he lost repeatedly. He suspected the dice were loaded, but he was happy to lose. Winning made the janissaries more talkative. After a dozen games, they
were slapping Longo on the back and treating him like one of their own.
‘Easy come, easy go,’ Longo said, fingering his now nearly empty purse. ‘I suppose I’ll have to wait until the city falls to refill it. I hear Constantinople is full of gold.’
‘And women,’ the janissary next to Longo leered.
‘Be the first over the wall, and you will have a thousand such purses,’ the old janissary, Qayi, said. ‘Not that you will get the chance. I expect the supreme
aga
, Ulu, will claim the prize. I, for one, would not stand in his way.’
‘Nor would I,’ Longo agreed. He sighed as another bad roll cost him the last contents of his purse. ‘I only wish that we could attack now. I could use some of the fabled wealth of Constantinople.’
‘Patience, my young friend,’ Qayi said. ‘Allah willing, the city will fall to us tomorrow night, and you will fill your purse with the wealth of Constantinople. And then,’ he added with a smile, ‘you can lose it to us again at dice.’
‘Agreed,’ Longo said. ‘After all, luck never lasts forever.’
Qayi chuckled, and then the smile dropped from his face. He scooped up the dice and stood suddenly. The other janissaries followed suit, as did Longo. Walking towards them, not twenty feet away, was Ulu. He had not yet seen Longo. The men saluted as Ulu approached, and Longo took the opportunity to slip quietly away from the fire and into the darkness. As he crept away, he could hear Ulu’s deep voice behind him. ‘Qayi, you and your men should get some rest. Your regiment will have the honour of leading the charge on the stockade tomorrow night.’
If Ulu saw him, he was lost. Longo crept away. He had more business outside the walls before the sun rose.
While Longo was entering the Turkish camp, Sofia returned to her room through the secret passage from the kitchen. She did not trust anyone but herself to deliver the message to William and Tristo. She threw on a long, hooded cloak and buckled a
sword around her waist. Then she quietly opened the door to her apartments and slipped out into the dark hallway. She froze instantly, her hand on her sword. A man was standing in the corridor outside her room. He stepped out of the shadows. It was Notaras.
‘Megadux, what are you doing here?’ Sofia asked.
‘I might well ask the same of you, Princess,’ Notaras replied. ‘I heard a nasty rumour that Signor Giustiniani had entered your apartments and not left.’ He looked past her into her apartments. ‘I am relieved to see that it does not appear to be true.’
‘Of course not!’ Sofia said, feigning outrage. She was glad that the shadows hid her scarlet cheeks.
‘Still, you will not mind if I take a quick look about your apartments?’ Notaras asked.
‘There is no man in my quarters,’ Sofia replied. ‘I should hope that my word will be enough, but you may do as you wish, Megadux.’