"Some day, deeds done for your country and religion may give me courage

to speak more boldly of what I feel and hope; but now I dare go no

further than ask what you have just heard. Let me be your protector and

knight through the perils of the siege at least."

The Princess was pleased with the turn his speech had taken. She

thought rapidly. A knight in battle, foremost in the press, her name a

conquering cry on his lips were but the constituents of a right womanly

ambition. She answered:

"Count Corti, I accept thy offer."

Taking the hand she extended, he kissed it reverently, and said:

"I am happy above other men. Now, O Princess, give me a favor--a glove,

a scarf--something I may wear, to prove me thy knight."

She took from her neck a net of knitted silk, pinkish in hue, and large

enough for a kerchief or waist sash.

"If I go about this gift," she said, her face deeply suffused, "in a

way to provoke a smile hereafter; if in placing it around thy neck with

my own hands"--with the words, she bent over him, and dropped the net

outside the hood so the ends hung loosely down his breast--"I overstep

any rule of modesty, I pray you will not misunderstand me. I am

thinking of my country, my kinsman, of religion and God, and the

service even unto noble deeds thou mayst do them. Rise, Count Corti. In

the ride before thee now, in the perils to come, thou shalt have my

prayers."

The Count arose, but afraid to trust himself in further speech, he

carried her hand to his lips again, and with a simple farewell, hurried

out, and mounting his horse rode at speed for the Adrianople Gate.

Four days after, he reentered the gate, bringing a prisoner, and

passing straight to the Very High Residence, made report to the

Emperor, Justiniani and Duke Notaras in council.

"I have been greatly concerned for you, Count," said Constantine; "and

not merely because a good sword can be poorly spared just now."

The imperial pleasure was unfeigned.

"Your Majesty's grace is full reward for my performance," the Count

replied, and rising from the salutation, he began his recital.

"Stay," said the Emperor, "I will have a seat brought that you may be

at ease."

Corti declined: "The Arabs have a saying, Your Majesty--'A nest for a

setting bird, a saddle for a warrior.' The jaunt has but rested me, and

there was barely enough danger in it.... The Turk is an old

acquaintance. I have lived with him, and been his guest in house and

tent, and as a comrade tempted Providence at his side under countless

conditions, until I know his speech and usages, himself scarcely

better. My African Berbers are all Mohammedans who have performed the

Pilgrimage. One of them is a muezzin by profession; and if he can but

catch sight of the sun, he will never miss the five hours of prayer.

None of them requires telling the direction to Mecca.... I issued from

Your Majesty's great gate about the third hour, and taking the road to

Adrianople, journeyed till near midday before meeting a human being.

There were farms and farmhouses on my right and left, and the fields

had been planted in good season; but the growing grain was wasted; and

when I sought the houses to have speech with their tenants they were

forsaken. Twice we were driven off by the stench of bodies rotting

before the doors."

"Greeks?"

"Greeks, Your Majesty.... There were wild hogs in the thickets which

fled at sight of us, and vultures devouring the corpses."

"Were there no other animals, no horses or oxen?" asked Justiniani.

"None, noble Genoese--none seen by us, and the swine were spared, I

apprehend, because their meat is prohibited to the children of

Islam.... At length Hadifah, whom I have raised to be a Sheik--Your

Majesty permitting--and whose eyes discover the small things with which

space is crowded as he were a falcon making circles up near the

sun--Hadifah saw a man in the reeds hiding; and we pursued the wretch,

and caught him, and he too was a Greek; and when his fright allowed him

to talk, he told us a band of strange people, the like of whom he had

never seen, attacked his hut, burned it, carried off his goats and she

buffaloes; and since that hour, five weeks gone, he had been hunting

for his wife and three girl-children. God be merciful to them! Of the

Turks he could tell nothing except that now, everything of value gone,

they too had disappeared. I gave the poor man a measure of oaten cakes,

and left him to his misery. God be merciful to him also!"

"Did you not advise him to come to me?"

"Your Majesty, he was a husband and father seeking his family; with all

humility, what else is there for him to do?"

"I give your judgment credit, Count. There is nothing else."

"I rode on till night, meeting nobody, friend or foe--on through a wide

district, lately inhabited, now a wilderness. The creatures of the

Sultan had passed through it, and there was fire in their breath. We

discovered a dried-up stream, and by sinking in its bed obtained water

for our horses. There, in a hollow, we spent the night.... Next

morning, after an hour's ride, we met a train of carts drawn by oxen.

The groaning and creaking of the distraught wheels warned me of the

encounter before the advance guard of mounted men, quite a thousand

strong, were in view. I did not draw rein"--

"What!" cried Justiniani, astonished. "With but a company of nine?"

The Count smiled.

"I crave your pardon, gallant Captain. In my camp the night before, I

prepared my Berbers for the meeting."

"By the bones of the saints, Count Corti, thou dost confuse me the

more! With such odds against thee, what preparations were at thy

command?"

"'There was never amulet like a grain of wit in a purse under thy cap.'

Good Captain, the saying is not worse of having proceeded from a

Persian. I told my followers we were likely at any moment to be

overtaken by a force too strong for us to fight; but instead of running

away, we must meet them heartily, as friends enlisted in the same

cause; and if they asked whence we were, we must be sure of agreement

in our reply. I was to be a Turk; they, Egyptians from west of the

Nile. We had come in by the new fortress opposite the White Castle, and

were going to the mighty Lord Mahommed in Adrianople. Beyond that, I

bade them be silent, leaving the entertainment of words to me."

The Emperor and Justiniani laughed, but Notaras asked: "If thy Berbers

are Mohammedans, as thou sayest, Count Corti, how canst thou rely on

them against Mohammedans?"

"My Lord the High Admiral may not have heard of the law by which, if

one Arab kills another, the relatives of the dead man are bound to kill

him, unless there be composition. So I had merely to remind Hadifah and

his companions of the Turks we slew in the field near Basch-Kegan."

Corti continued: "After parley with the captain of the advance guard, I

was allowed to ride on; and coming to the train, I found the carts

freighted with military engines and tools for digging trenches and

fortifying camps. There were hundreds of them, and the drivers were a

multitude. Indeed, Your Majesty, from head to foot the caravan was

miles in reach, its flanks well guarded by groups of horsemen at

convenient intervals."

This statement excited the three counsellors.

"After passing the train," the Count was at length permitted to resume,

"my way was through bodies of troops continuously--all irregulars. It

must have been about three o'clock in the afternoon when I came upon

the most surprising sight. Much I doubt if ever the noble Captain

Justiniani, with all his experience, can recall anything like it.

"First there was a great company of pioneers with tools for grading the

hills and levelling the road; then on a four-wheeled carriage two men

stood beating a drum; their sticks looked like the enlarged end of a

galley oar. The drum responded to their blows in rumbles like dull

thunder from distant clouds. While I sat wondering why they beat it,

there came up next sixty oxen yoked in pairs. Your Majesty can in fancy

measure the space they covered. On the right and left of each yoke

strode drivers with sharpened goads, and their yelling harmonized

curiously with the thunder of the drum. The straining of the brutes was

pitiful to behold. And while I wondered yet more, a log of bronze was

drawn toward me big at one end as the trunk of a great plane tree, and

so long that thirty carts chained together as one wagon, were required

to support it laid lengthwise; and to steady the piece on its rolling

bed, two hundred and fifty stout laborers kept pace with it

unremittingly watchful. The movement was tedious, but at last I saw"--

"A cannon!" exclaimed the Genoese.

"Yes, noble Captain, the gun said to be the largest ever cast."

"Didst thou see any of the balls?"

"Other carts followed directly loaded with gray limestones chiselled

round; and to my inquiry what the stones were for, I was told they were

bullets twelve spans in circumference, and that the charge of powder

used would cast them a mile."

The inquisitors gazed at each other mutely, and their thoughts may be

gathered from the action of the Emperor. He touched a bell on a table,

and to Phranza, who answered the call, he said: "Lord Chamberlain, have

two men well skilled in the construction of walls report to me in the

morning. There is work for them which they must set about at once. I

will furnish the money." [Footnote: Before the siege by the Turks, two

monks, Manuel Giagari and Neophytus of Rhodes, were charged with

repairing the walls, but they buried the sums intrusted to them for

these works; and in the pillage of the city seventy thousand pieces of

gold thus advanced by the Emperor were unearthed.--VON HAMMER, Vol.

II., p. 417.]

"I have but little more of importance to engage Your Majesty's

attention.... Behind the monster cannon, two others somewhat smaller

were brought up in the same careful manner. I counted seventeen pieces

all brass, the least of them exceeding in workmanship and power the

best in the Hippodrome."

"Were there more?" Justiniani asked.

"Many more, brave Captain, but ancient, and unworthy mention.... The

day was done when, by sharp riding, I gained the rear of the train. At

sunrise on the third day, I set out in return.... I have a prisoner

whom this august council may examine with profit. He will, at least,

confirm my report."

"Who is he?"

"The captain of the advance guard."

"How came you by him?"

"Your Majesty, I induced him to ride a little way with me, and at a

convenient time gave his bridle rein to Hadifah. In his boyhood the

Sheik was trained to leading camels, and he assures me it is much

easier to lead a horse."

The sally served to lighten the sombre character of the Count's report,

and in the midst of the merriment, he was dismissed. The prisoner was

then brought in, and put to question; next day the final preparation

for the reception of Mahommed was begun.

With a care equal to the importance of the business, Constantine

divided the walls into sections, beginning on the landward side of the

Golden Gate or Seven Towers, and ending at the Cynegion. Of the harbor

front he made one division, with the Grand Gate of Blacherne and the

Acropolis or Point Serail for termini; from Point Serail to the Seven

Towers he stationed patrols and lookouts, thinking the sea and rocks

sufficient to discourage assault in that quarter.

His next care was the designation of commandants of the several

divisions. The individuals thus honored have been already mentioned;

though it may be well to add how the Papal Legate, Cardinal Isidore,

doffing his frock and donning armor, voluntarily accepted chief

direction along the harbor--an example of martial gallantry which ought

to have shamed the lukewarm Greeks morosely skulking in their cells.

Shrewdly anticipating a concentration of effort against the Gate St.

Romain, and its two auxiliary towers, Bagdad and St. Romain, the former

on the right hand and the latter on the left, he assigned Justiniani to

its defence.

Upon the walls, and in the towers numerously garnishing them, the

gallant Emperor next brought up his guns and machines, with profuse

supplies of missiles.

Then, after flooding the immense ditch, he held a review in the

Hippodrome, whence the several detachments marched to their stations.

Riding with his captains, and viewing the walls, now gay with banners

and warlike tricking, Constantine took heart, and told how Amurath, the

peerless warrior, had dashed his Janissaries against them, and rued the

day.

"Is this boy Mahommed greater than his father?" he asked.

"God knows," Isidore responded, crossing himself breast and forehead.

And well content, the cavalcade repassed the ponderous Gate St. Romain.

All that could be done had been done. There was nothing more but to

wait.

CHAPTER VI

MAHOMMED AT THE GATE ST. ROMAIN

In the city April seemed to have borrowed from the delays of Mahommed;

never month so slow in coming. At last, however, its first day, dulled

by a sky all clouds, and with winds from the Balkans.

The inertness of the young Sultan was not from want of will or zeal. It

took two months to drag his guns from Adrianople; but with them the

army moved, and as it moved it took possession, or rather covered the

land. At length, he too arrived, bringing, as it were, the month with

him; and then he lost no more time.

About five miles from the walls on the south or landward side, he drew

his hordes together in the likeness of a line of battle, and at a

trumpet call they advanced in three bodies simultaneously. So a tidal

wave, far extending, broken, noisy, terrible, rises out of the deep,

and rolls upon a shore of stony cliffs.

Near ten o'clock in the forenoon of the sixth of April the Emperor

mounted the roof of the tower of St. Romain, mentioned as at the left

of the gate bearing the same name. There were with him Justiniani, the

Cardinal Isidore, John Grant, Phranza, Theophilus Palaeologus, Duke

Notaras, and a number of inferior persons native and foreign. He had

come to see all there was to be seen of the Turks going into position.

The day was spring-like, with just enough breeze to blow the mists away.

The reader must think of the roof as an immense platform accessible by

means of a wooden stairway in the interior of the tower, and

battlemented on the four sides, the merlons of stone in massive blocks,

and of a height to protect a tall man, the embrasures requiring

banquettes to make them serviceable. In arrangement somewhat like a

ship's battery, there are stoutly framed arbalists and mangonels on the

platform, and behind them, with convenient spaces between, arquebuses

on tripods, cumbrous catapults, and small cannon on high axles ready

for wheeling into position between the merlons. Near each machine its

munitions lie in order. Leaning against the walls there are also

spears, javelins, and long and cross bows; while over the corner next

the gate floats an imperial standard, its white field emblazoned with

the immemorial Greek cross in gold. The defenders of the tower are

present; and as they are mostly Byzantines, their attitudes betray much

more than cold military respect, for they are receiving the Emperor,

whom they have been taught to regard worshipfully.

They study him, and take not a little pride in observing that, clad in

steel cap-a-pie, he in no wise suffers by comparison with the best of

his attendants, not excepting Justiniani, the renowned Genoese captain.

Not more to see than be seen, the visor of his helmet is raised; and

stealing furtive glances at his countenance, noble by nature, but just

now more than ordinarily inspiring, they are better and stronger for

what they read in it.

On the right and left the nearest towers obstruct the view of the walls

in prolongation; but southward the country spreads before the party a

campania rolling and fertile, dotted with trees scattered and in thin

groves, and here and there an abandoned house. The tender green of

vegetation upon the slopes reminds those long familiar with them that

grass is already invading what were lately gardens and cultivated

fields. Constantine makes the survey in silence, for he knows how soon

even the grass must disappear. Just beyond the flooded ditch at the

foot of the first or outward wall is a road, and next beyond the road a

cemetery crowded with tombs and tombstones, and brown and white

mausolean edifices; indeed, the chronicles run not back to a time when

that marginal space was unallotted to the dead. From the far skyline

the eyes of the fated Emperor drop to the cemetery, and linger there.

Presently one of his suite calls out: "Hark! What sound is that?"

They all give attention.

"It is thunder."

"No--thunder rolls. This is a beat."

Constantine and Justiniani remembered Count Corti's description of the

great drum hauled before the artillery train of the Turks, and the

former said calmly:

"They are coming."

Almost as he spoke the sunlight mildly tinting the land in the farness

seemed to be troubled, and on the tops of the remote hillocks there

appeared to be giants rolling them up, as children roll snow-balls--and

the movement was toward the city.

The drum ceased not its beating or coming. Justiniani by virtue of his

greater experience, was at length able to say:

"Your Majesty, it is here in front of us; and as this Gate St. Romain

marks the centre of your defences, so that drum marks the centre of an

advancing line, and regulates the movement from wing to wing."

"It must be so, Captain; for see--there to the left--those are bodies

of men."

"And now, Your Majesty, I hear trumpets."

A little later some one cried out:

"Now I hear shouting."

And another: "I see gleams of metal."

Ere long footmen and horsemen were in view, and the Byzantines, brought

to the wall by thousands, gazed and listened in nervous wonder; for

look where they might over the campania, they saw the enemy closing in

upon them, and heard his shouting, and the neighing of horses, the

blaring of horns, and the palpitant beating of drums.

"By our Lady of Blacherne," said the Emperor, after a long study of the

spectacle, "it is a great multitude, reaching to the sea here on our

left, and, from the noise, to the Golden Horn on our right; none the

less I am disappointed. I imagined much splendor of harness and shields

and banners, but see only blackness and dust. I cannot make out amongst

them one Sultanic flag. Tell me, most worthy John Grant--it being

reported that thou hast great experience combating with and against

these hordes--tell me if this poverty of appearance is usual with them."

The sturdy German, in a jargon difficult to follow, answered: "These at

our left are the scum of Asia. They are here because they have nothing;

their hope is to better their condition, to return rich, to exchange

ragged turbans for crowns, and goatskin jackets for robes of silk.

Look, Your Majesty, the tombs in front of us are well kept; to-morrow

if there be one left standing, it will have been rifled. Of the lately

buried there will not be a ring on a finger or a coin under a tongue.

Oh, yes, the ghouls will look better next week! Only give them time to

convert the clothes they will strip from the dead into fresh turbans.

But when the Janissaries come Your Majesty will not be disappointed.

See--their advance guard now--there on the rising ground in front of

the gate."

There was a swell of ground to the right of the gate rather than in

front of it, and as the party looked thither, a company of horsemen

were seen riding slowly but in excellent order, and the sheen of their

arms and armor silvered the air about them. Immediately other companies

deployed on the right and left of the first one; then the thunderous

drum ceased; whereat, from the hordes out on the campania, brought to a

sudden standstill, detachments dashed forward at full speed, and

dismounting, began digging a trench.

"Be this Sultan like or unlike his father, he is a soldier. He means to

cover his army, and at the same time enclose us from sea to harbor.

To-morrow, my Lord, only high-flying hawks can communicate with us from

the outside."

This, from Justiniani to the Emperor, was scarcely noticed, for behind

the deploying Janissaries, there arose an outburst of music in deep

volume, the combination of clarions and cymbals so delightful to

warriors of the East; at the same instant a yellow flag was displayed.

Then old John Grant exclaimed:

"The colors of the _Silihdars!_ Mahommed is not far away. Nay, Your

Majesty, look--the Sultan himself!"

Through an interval of the guard, a man in chain mail shooting golden

sparkles, helmed, and with spear in hand and shield at his back,

trotted forth, his steed covered with flowing cloths. Behind him

appeared a suite mixed of soldiers and civilians, the former in warlike

panoply, the latter in robes and enormous turbans. Down the slope the

foremost rider led as if to knock at the gate. On the tower the cannon

were loaded, and run into the embrasures.

"Mahommed, saidst thou, John Grant?"

"Mahommed, Your Majesty."

"Then I call him rash; but as we are not ashamed of our gates and

walls, let him have his look in peace.... Hear you, men, let him look,

and go in peace."

The repetition was in restraint of the eager gunners.

Further remark was cut short by a trumpet sounded at the foot of the

tower. An officer peered over the wall, and reported: "Your Majesty, a

knight just issued from the gate is riding forth. I take him to be the

Italian, Count Corti."

Constantine became a spectator of what ensued.

Ordinarily the roadway from the country was carried over the deep moat

in front of the Gate St. Romain by a floor of stout timbers well

balustraded at the sides, and resting on brick piers. Of the bridge

nothing now remained but a few loose planks side by side ready to be

hastily snatched from their places. To pass them afoot was a venture;

yet Count Corti, when the Emperor looked at him from the height, was

making the crossing mounted, and blowing a trumpet as he went.

"Is the man mad?" asked the Emperor, in deep concern.

"Mad? No, he is challenging the Mahounds to single combat; and, my

lords and gentlemen, if he be skilful as he is bold, then, by the Three

Kings of Cologne, we will see some pretty work in pattern for the rest

of us."

Thus Grant replied.

Corti made the passage safely, and in the road beyond the moat halted,

and drove the staff of his banderole firmly in the ground. A broad

opening through the cemetery permitted him to see and be seen by the

Turks, scarcely a hundred yards away. Standing in his stirrups, he

sounded the trumpet again--a clear call ringing with defiance.

Mahommed gave over studying the tower and deep-sunken gate, and

presently beckoned to his suite.

"What is the device on yon pennon?" he asked.

"A moon with a cross on its face."

"Say you so?"

Twice the defiance was repeated, and so long the young Sultan, sat

still, his countenance unusually grave. He recognized the Count; only

he thought of him by the dearer Oriental name, Mirza. He knew also how

much more than common ambition there was in the blatant challenge--that

it was a reminder of the treaty between them, and, truly interpreted,

said, in effect: "Lo, my Lord! she is well, and for fear thou judge me

unworthy of her, send thy bravest to try me." And he hesitated--an

accident might quench the high soul. Alas, then, for the Princess Irene

in the day of final assault! Who would deliver her to him? The hordes,

and the machinery, all the mighty preparation, were, in fact, less for

conquest and glory than love. Sore the test had there been one in

authority to say to him: "She is thine, Lord Mahommed; thine, so thou

take her, and leave the city."

A third time the challenge was delivered, and from the walls a taunting

cheer descended. Then the son of Isfendiar, recognizing the banderole,

and not yet done with chafing over his former defeat, pushed through

the throng about Mahommed, and prayed:

"O my Lord, suffer me to punish yon braggart."

Mahommed replied: "Thou hast felt his hand already, but go--I commend

thee to thy houris."

He settled in his saddle smiling. The danger was not to the Count.

The arms, armor, weapons, and horse-furniture of the Moslem were

identical with the Italian's; and it being for the challenged party to

determine with what the duel should be fought, whether with axe, sword,

lance or bow, the son of Isfendiar chose the latter, and made ready

while advancing. The Count was not slow in imitating him.

Each held his weapon--short for saddle service--in the left hand, the

arrow in place, and the shield on the left forearm.

No sooner had they reached the open ground in the cemetery than they

commenced moving in circles, careful to keep the enemy on the shield

side at a distance of probably twenty paces. The spectators became

silent. Besides the skill which masters in such affrays should possess,

they were looking for portents of the result.

Three times the foemen encircled each other with shield guard so well

kept that neither saw an opening to attack; then the Turk discharged

his arrow, intending to lodge it in the shoulder of the other's horse,

the buckling attachments of the neck mail being always more or less

imperfect. The Count interposed his shield, and shouted in Osmanli:

"Out on thee, son of Isfendiar! I am thy antagonist, not my horse. Thou

shalt pay for the cowardice."

He then narrowed the circle of his movement, and spurring full speed,

compelled the Turk to turn on a pivot so reduced it was almost a halt.

The exposure while taking a second shaft from the quiver behind the

right shoulder was dangerously increased. "Beware!" the Count cried

again, launching his arrow through the face opening of the hood.

The son of Isfendiar might never attain his father's Pachalik. There

was not voice left him for a groan. He reeled in his saddle, clutching

the empty air, then tumbled to the earth.

The property of the dead man, his steed, arms, and armor, were lawful

spoils; but without heeding them, the Count retired to his banderole,

and, amidst the shouts of the Greeks on the walls and towers, renewed

the challenge. A score of chiefs beset the Sultan for permission to

engage the insolent _Gabour_.

To an Arab Sheik, loudest in importunity, he said: "What has happened

since yesterday to dissatisfy thee with life?"

The Sheik raised a lance with a flexible shaft twenty feet in length,

made of a cane peculiar to the valley of the Jordan, and shaking it

stoutly, replied:

"Allah, and the honor of my tribe!"

Perceiving the man's reliance in his weapon, Mahommed returned: "How

many times didst thou pray yesterday?"

"Five times, my Lord."

"And to-day?"

"Twice."

"Go, then; but as yon champion hath not a lance to put him on equality

with thee, he will be justified in taking to the sword."

The Sheik's steed was of the most precious strain of El-Hejaz; and

sitting high in the saddle, a turban of many folds on his head, a

striped robe drawn close to the waist, his face thin, coffee-colored,

hawk-nosed, and lightning-eyed, he looked a king of the desert.

Galloping down on the Christian, he twirled the formidable lance

dextrously, until it seemed not more than a stalk of dried papyrus.

The Count beheld in the performance a trick of the _djerid_ he had

often practised with Mahommed. Uncertain if the man's robe covered

armor, he met him with an arrow, and seeing it fall off harmless,

tossed the bow on his back, drew sword, and put his horse in forward

movement, caracoling right and left to disturb the enemy's aim. Nothing

could be more graceful than this action.

Suddenly the Sheik stopped playing, and balancing the lance overhead,

point to the foe, rushed with a shrill cry upon him. Corti's friends on

the tower held their breath; even the Emperor said: "It is too unequal.

God help him!" At the last moment, however--the moment of the

thrust--changing his horse to the right, the Count laid himself flat

upon its side, under cover of his shield. The thrust, only a little

less quick, passed him in the air, and before the Sheik could recover

or shorten his weapon, the trained foeman was within its sweep. In a

word, the Arab was at mercy. Riding with him side by side, hand on his

shoulder, the Count shouted: "Yield thee!"

"Dog of a Christian, never! Do thy worst."

The sword twirled once--a flash--then it descended, severing the lance

in front of the owner's grip. The fragment fell to the earth.

"Now yield thee!"

The Sheik drew rein.

"Why dost thou not kill me?"

"I have a message for thy master yonder, the Lord Mahommed."

"Speak it then."

"Tell him he is in range of the cannon on the towers, and only the

Emperor's presence there restrains the gunners. There is much need for

thee to haste."

"Who art thou?"

"I am an Italian knight who, though thy Lord's enemy, hath reason to

love him. Wilt thou go?"

"I will do as thou sayest."

"Alight, then. Thy horse is mine."

"For ransom?"

"No."

The Sheik dismounted grumblingly, and was walking off when the cheering

of the Greeks stung him to the soul.

"A chance--O Christian, another chance--to-day--to-morrow!"

"Deliver the message; it shall be as thy Lord may then appoint. Bestir

thyself."

The Count led the prize to the banderole, and flinging the reins over

it, faced the gleaming line of Janissaries once more, trumpet at mouth.

He saw the Sheik salute Mahommed; then the attendants closed around

them. "A courteous dog, by the Prophet!" said the Sultan. "In what

tongue did he speak?"

"My Lord, he might have been bred under my own tent."

The Sultan's countenance changed.

"Was there not more of his message?"

He was thinking of the Princess Irene.

"Yes, my Lord."

"Repeat it."

"He will fight me again to-day or to-morrow, as my Lord may

appoint--and I want my horse. Without him, El-Hejaz will be a widow."

A red spot appeared on Mahommed's forehead.

"Begone!" he cried angrily. "Seest thou not, O fool, that when we take

the city we will recover thy horse? Fight thou shalt not, for in that

day I shall have need of thee."

Thereupon he bade them open for him, and rode slowly back up the

eminence, and when he disappeared Corti was vainly sounding his trumpet.

The two horses were led across the dismantled bridge, and into the gate.

"Heaven hath sent me a good soldier," said the Emperor to the Count,

upon descending from the tower.

Then Justiniani asked: "Why didst thou spare thy last antagonist?"

Corti answered truthfully.

"It was well done," the Genoese returned, offering his hand.

"Ay," said Constantine, cordially, "well done. But mount now, and ride

with us."

"Your Majesty, a favor first.... A man is in the road dead. Let his

body be placed on a bier, and carried to his friends."

"A most Christian request! My Lord Chamberlain, attend to it."

The cavalcade betook itself then to other parts, the better to see the

disposition of the Turks; and everywhere on the landward side it was

the same--troops in masses, and intrenchments in progress. Closing the

inspection at set of sun, the Emperor beheld the sea and the Bosphorus

in front of the Golden Horn covered with hundreds of sails.

"The leaguer is perfected," said the Genoese.

"And the issue with God," Constantine replied. "Let us to Hagia St.

Sophia."

CHAPTER VII

THE GREAT GUN SPEAKS

The first sufficient gleam of light next morning revealed to the

watchmen on the towers an ominous spectacle. Through the night they had

heard a medley of noises peculiar to a multitude at work with all their

might; now, just out of range of their own guns, they beheld a

continuous rampart of fresh earth grotesquely spotted with marbles from

the cemetery.

In no previous siege of the Byzantine capital was there reference to

such a preliminary step. To the newly enlisted, viewing for the first

time an enemy bodily present, it seemed like the world being pared down

to the smallest dimensions; while their associate veterans, to whom

they naturally turned for comfort, admitted an appreciable respect for

the Sultan. Either he had a wise adviser, they said, or he was himself

a genius.

Noon--and still the workmen seemed inexhaustible--still the rampart

grew in height--still the hordes out on the campania multiplied, and

the horizon line west of the Gate St. Romain was lost in the increasing

smoke of a vast bivouac.

Nightfall--and still the labor.

About midnight, judging by the sounds, the sentinels fancied the enemy

approached nearer the walls; and they were not mistaken. With the

advent of the second morning, here and there at intervals, ill-defined

mounds of earth were seen so much in advance of the intrenched line

that, by a general order, a fire of stones and darts was opened upon

them; and straightway bodies of bowmen and slingers rushed forward, and

returned the fire, seeking to cover the mound builders. This was battle.

Noon again--and battle.

In the evening--battle.

The advantage of course was with the besieged.

The work on the mounds meanwhile continued, while the campania behind

the intrenchment was alive with a creaking of wheels burdened by

machinery, and a shouting of ox-drivers; and the veterans on the walls

said the enemy was bringing up his balistas and mangonels.

The third morning showed the mounds finished, and crowned with

mantelets, behind which, in working order and well manned, every sort

of engine known in sieges from Alexander to the Crusaders was in

operation. Thenceforward, it is to be observed, the battle was by no

means one-sided.

In this opening there was no heat or furore of combat; it was rather

the action of novices trying their machines, or, in modern artillery

parlance, finding the range. Many minutes often intervened between

shots, and as the preliminary object on the part of the besiegers was

to destroy the merlons sheltering the warders, did a stone strike

either wall near the top, the crash was saluted by cheers.

Now the foreigners defending were professionals who had graduated in

all the arts of town and castle taking. These met the successes of

their antagonists with derision. "Apprentices," they would say,

"nothing but apprentices."... "See those fellows by the big springal

there turning the winch the wrong way!" ... "The turbaned sons of

Satan! Have they no eyes? I'll give them a lesson. Look!" And if the

bolt fell truly, there was loud laughter on the walls.

The captains, moreover, were incessantly encouraging the raw men under

them. "Two walls, and a hundred feet of flooded ditch! There will be

merry Christmas in the next century before the Mahounds get to us at

the rate they are coming. Shoot leisurely, men--leisurely. An infidel

for every bolt!"

Now on the outer wall, which was the lower of the two, and naturally

first to draw the enemy's ire, and then along the inner, the Emperor

went, indifferent to danger or fatigue, and always with words of cheer.

"The stones under our feet are honest," he would say. "The Persian came

thinking to batter them down, but after many days he fled; and search

as we will, no man can lay a finger on the face of one of them, and

say, 'Here Chosroes left a scar.' So Amurath, sometimes called Murad,

this young man's father, wasted months, and the souls of his subjects

without count; but when he fled not a coping block had been disturbed

in its bed. What has been will be again. God is with us."

When the three days were spent, the Greeks under arms began to be

accustomed to the usage, and make merry of it, like the veterans.

The fourth day about noon the Emperor, returning from a round of the

walls, ascended the Bagdad tower mentioned as overlooking the Gate St.

Romain on the right hand; and finding Justiniani on the roof, he said

to him: "This fighting, if it may be so called, Captain, is without

heart. But two of our people have been killed; not a stone is shaken.

To me it seems the Sultan is amusing us while preparing something more

serious."

"Your Majesty," the Genoese returned, soberly, "now has Heaven given

you the spirit of a soldier and the eyes as well. Old John Grant told

me within an hour that the yellow flag on the rising ground before us

denotes the Sultan's quarters in the field, and is not to be confounded

with his battle flag. It follows, I think, could we get behind the

Janissaries dismounted on the further slope of the rise, yet in

position to meet a sally, we would discover the royal tent not unwisely

pitched, if, as I surmise, this gate is indeed his point of main

attack. And besides here are none of the old-time machines as elsewhere

along our front; not a catapult, or bricole, or bible--as some, with

wicked facetiousness, have named a certain invention for casting huge

stones; nor have we yet heard the report of a cannon, or arquebus, or

bombard, although we know the enemy has them in numbers. Wherefore,

keeping in mind the circumstance of his presence here, the omissions

satisfy me the Sultan relies on his great guns, and that, while amusing

us, as Your Majesty has said, he is mounting them. To-morrow, or

perhaps next day, he will open with them, and then"--

"What then?" Constantine asked.

"The world will have a new lesson in warfare."

The Emperor's countenance, visible under his raised visor, knit hard.

"Dear, dear God!" he said, half to himself. "If this old Christian

empire should be lost through folly of mine, who will there be to

forgive me if not Thou?"

Then, seeing the Genoese observing him with surprise, he continued:

"It is a simple tale, Captain.... A Dacian, calling himself Urban,

asked audience of me one day, and being admitted, said he was an

artificer of cannon; that he had plied his art in the foundries of

Germany, and from study of powder was convinced of the practicality of

applying it to guns of heavier calibre than any in use. He had

discovered a composition of metals, he said, which was his secret, and

capable, when properly cast, of an immeasurable strain. Would I furnish

him the materials, and a place, with appliances for the work such as he

would name, I might collect the machines in my arsenal, and burn them

or throw them into the sea. I might even level my walls, and in their

stead throw up ramparts of common earth, and by mounting his guns upon

them secure my capital against the combined powers of the world. He

refused to give me details of his processes. I asked him what reward he

wanted, and he set it so high I laughed. Thinking to sound him further,

I kept him in my service a few days; but becoming weary of his

importunities, I dismissed him. I next heard of him at Adrianople. The

Sultan Mahommed entertained his propositions, built him a foundry, and

tried one of his guns, with results the fame of which is a wonder to

the whole East. It was the log of bronze Count Corti saw on the

road--now it is here--and Heaven sent it to me first."

"Your Majesty," returned the Genoese, impressed by the circumstance,

and the evident remorse of the Emperor, "Heaven does not hold us

accountable for errors of judgment. There is not a monarch in Europe

who would have accepted the man's terms, and it remains to be seen if

Mahommed, as yet but a callow youth, has not been cheated. But look

yonder!"

As he spoke, the Janissaries in front of the gate mounted and rode

forward, probably a hundred yards, pursued by a riotous shouting and

cracking of whips. Presently a train of buffaloes, yoked and tugging

laboriously at something almost too heavy for them, appeared on the

swell of earth; and there was a driver for every yoke, and every driver

whirled a long stick with a longer lash fixed to it, and howled lustily.

"It is the great gun," said Constantine. "They are putting it in

position."

Justiniani spoke to the men standing by the machines: "Make ready bolt

and stone."

The balistiers took to their wheels eagerly, and discharged a shower of

missiles at the Janissaries and ox-drivers.

"Too short, my men--more range."

The elevation was increased; still the bolts fell short.

"Bring forward the guns!" shouted Justiniani.

The guns were small bell-mouthed barrels of hooped iron, muzzle

loading, mounted on high wheels, and each shooting half a dozen balls

of lead large as walnuts. They were carefully aimed. The shot whistled

and sang viciously.

"Higher, men!" shouted the Genoese, from a merlon. "Give the pieces

their utmost range."

The Janissaries replied with a yell. The second volley also failed.

Then Justiniani descended from his perch.

"Your Majesty," he said, "to stop the planting of the gun there is

nothing for us but a sally."

"We are few, they are many," was the thoughtful reply. "One of us on

the wall is worth a score of them in the field. Their gun is an

experiment. Let them try it first."

The Genoese replied: "Your Majesty is right."

The Turks toiled on, backing and shifting their belabored trains, until

the monster at last threatened the city with its great black Cyclopean

eye.

"The Dacian is not a bad engineer," said the Emperor.

"See, he is planting other pieces."

Thus Justiniani; for oxen in trains similar to the first one came up

tugging mightily, until by mid-afternoon on each flank of the first

monster three other glistening yellow logs lay on their carriages in a

like dubious quiet, leaving no doubt that St. Romain was to be

overwhelmed, if the new agencies answered expectations.

If there was anxiety here, over the way there was impatience too fierce

for control. Urban, the Dacian, in superintendency of the preparation,

was naturally disposed to be careful, so much, in his view, depended on

the right placement of the guns; but Mahommed, on foot, and whip in

hand, was intolerant, and, not scrupling to mix with the workmen, urged

them vehemently, now with threats, now with promises of reward.

"Thy beasts are snails! Give me the goad," he cried, snatching one from

a driver. Then to Urban: "Bring the powder, and a bullet, for when the

sun goes down thou shalt fire the great gun. Demur not. By the sword of

Solomon, there shall be no sleep this night in yon _Gabour_ city, least

of all in the palace they call Blacherne."

The Dacian brought his experts together. The powder in a bag was rammed

home; with the help of a stout slab, a stone ball was next rolled into

the muzzle, then pushed nakedly down on the bag. Of a truth there was

need of measureless strength in the composition of the piece. Finally

the vent was primed, and a slow-match applied, after which Urban

reported:

"The gun is ready, my Lord."

"Then watch the sun, and--_Bismillah!_--at its going down, fire.... Aim

at the gate--this one before us--and if thou hit it or a tower on

either hand, I will make thee a _begler-bey_."

The gun-planting continued. Finally the sun paused in cloudy splendor

ready to carry the day down with it. The Sultan, from his tent of many

annexes Bedouin fashion, walked to where Urban and his assistants stood

by the carriage of the larger piece.

"Fire!" he said.

Urban knelt before him.

"Will my Lord please retire?"

"Why should I retire?"

"There is danger."

Mahommed smiled haughtily.

"Is the piece trained on the gate?"

"It is; but I pray"--

"Now if thou wilt not have me believe thee a dog not less than an

unbeliever, rise, and do my bidding."

The Dacian, without more ado, put the loose end of the slow-match into

a pot of live coals near by, and when it began to spit and sputter, he

cast it off. His experts fled. Only Mahommed remained with him; and no

feat of daring in battle could have won the young Padishah a name for

courage comparable to that the thousands looking on from a safe

distance now gave him.

"Will my Lord walk with me a little aside? He can then see the ball

going."

Mahommed accepted the suggestion.

"Look now in a line with the gate, my Lord."

The match was at last spent. A flash at the vent--a spreading white

cloud--a rending of the air--the rattle of wheels obedient to the

recoil of the gun--a sound thunder in volume, but with a crackle

sharper than any thunder--and we may almost say that, with a new voice,

and an additional terror, war underwent a second birth.

Mahommed's ears endured a wrench, and for a time he heard nothing; but

he was too intent following the flight of the ball to mind whether the

report of the gun died on the heights of Galata or across the Bosphorus

at Scutari. He saw the blackened sphere pass between the towers

flanking the gate, and speed on into the city--how far, or with what

effect, he could not tell, nor did he care.

Urban fell on his knees.

"Mercy, my Lord, mercy!"

"For what? That thou didst not hit the gate? Rise, man, and see if the

gun is safe." And when it was so reported, he called to Kalil, the

Vizier, now come up: "Give the man a purse, and not a lean one, for, by

Allah! he is bringing Constantinople to me."

And despite the ringing in his ears, he went to his tent confident and

happy. On the tower meantime Constantine and the Genoese beheld the

smoke leap forth and curtain the gun, and right afterward they heard

the huge ball go tearing past them, like an invisible meteor. Their

eyes pursued the sound--where the missile fell they could not say--they

heard a crash, as if a house midway the city had been struck--then they

gazed at each other, and crossed themselves.

"There is nothing for us now but the sally," said the Emperor.

"Nothing," replied Justiniani. "We must disable the guns."

"Let us go and arrange it."

There being no indication of further firing, the two descended from the

tower.

The plan of sortie agreed upon was not without ingenuity. The gate

under the palace of Blacherne called _Cercoporta_ was to be opened in

the night. [Footnote: In the basement of the palace of Blacherne there

was an underground exit, Cercoporta or gate of the Circus; but Isaac

Comnenus had walled it up in order to avoid the accomplishment of a

prediction which announced that the Emperor Frederick would enter

Constantinople through it.... But before the siege by Mahommed the exit

was restored, and it was through it the Turks passed into the

city.--VON HAMMER, _Hist. de l'Empire Ottoman._] Count Corti, with the

body-guard mounted, was to pass out by it, and surprise the Janissaries

defending the battery. Simultaneously Justiniani should sally by the

Gate St. Romain, cross the moat temporarily bridged for the purpose,

and, with the footmen composing the force in reserve, throw himself

upon the guns.

The scheme was faithfully attempted. The Count, stealing out of the

ancient exit in the uncertain light preceding the dawn, gained a

position unobserved, and charged the careless Turks. By this time it

had become a general report that the net about his neck was a favor of

the Princess Irene, and his battle cry confirmed it--_For God and

Irene!_ Bursting through the half-formed opposition, he passed to the

rear of the guns, and planted his banderole at the door of Mahommed's

tent. Had his men held together, he might have returned with a royal

prisoner.

While attention was thus wholly given the Count, Justiniani overthrew

the guns by demolishing the carriages. A better acquaintance with the

operation known to moderns as "spiking a piece," would have enabled him

to make the blow irreparable. The loss of Janissaries was severe; that

of the besieged trifling. The latter, foot and horse, returned by the

Gate St. Romain unpursued.

Mahommed, aroused by the tumult, threw on his light armor, and rushed

out in time to hear the cry of his assailant, and pluck the banderole

from its place. At sight of the moon with the cross on its face, his

wrath was uncontrollable. The Aga in command and all his assistants

were relentlessly impaled.

There were other sorties in course of the siege, but never another

surprise.

CHAPTER VIII

MAHOMMED TRIES HIS GUNS AGAIN

Hardly had the bodies making the sortie retired within the gate when

the Janissaries on the eminence were trebly strengthened, and the

noises in that quarter, the cracking of whips, the shouting of

ox-drivers, the hammering betokened a prodigious activity. The

besieged, under delusion that the guns had been destroyed, could not

understand the enemy. Not until the second ensuing morning was the

mystery solved. The watchmen on the towers, straining to pierce the

early light, then beheld the great bronze monster remounted and gaping

at them through an embrasure, and other monsters of a like kind on

either side of it, fourteen in all, similarly mounted and defended.

The warders on the towers, in high excitement, sent for Justiniani, and

he in turn despatched a messenger to the Emperor. Together on the

Bagdad tower the two discussed the outlook.

"Your Majesty," said the Genoese, much chagrined, "the apostate Dacian

must be master of his art. He has restored the cannon I overthrew."

After a time Constantine replied: "I fear we have underrated the new

Sultan. Great as a father may be, it is possible for a son to be

greater."

Perceiving the Emperor was again repenting the dismissal of Urban, the

Captain held his peace until asked: "What shall we now do?"

"Your Majesty," he returned, "it is apparent our sally was a failure.

We slew a number of the infidels, and put their master--may God

confound him!--to inconvenience, and nothing more. Now he is on guard,

we may not repeat our attempt. My judgment is that we let him try his

armament upon our walls. They may withstand his utmost effort."

The patience this required was not put to a long test. There was a

sudden clamor of trumpets, and the Janissaries, taking to their

saddles, and breaking right and left into divisions, cleared the

battery front. Immediately a vast volume of smoke hid the whole ground,

followed by a series of explosions. Some balls passing over the

defences ploughed into the city; and as definitions of force, the

sounds they made in going were awful; yet they were the least of the

terrors. Both the towers were hit, and they shook as if an earthquake

were wrestling with them. The air whitened with dust and fragments of

crushed stone. The men at the machines and culverins cowered to the

floor. Constantine and the Genoese gazed at each other until the latter

bethought him, and ordered the fire returned. And it was well done, for

there is nothing which shall bring men round from fright like action.

Then, before there could be an exchange of opinion between the high

parties on the tower, a man in half armor issued from the slowly rising

cloud, and walked leisurely forward. Instead of weapons, he carried an

armful of stakes, and something which had the appearance of a heavy

gavel. After a careful examination of the ground to the gate, he halted

and drove a stake, and from that point commenced zigzagging down the

slope, marking each angle.

Justiniani drew nearer the Emperor, and said, in a low voice: "With new

agencies come new methods. The assault is deferred."

"Nay, Captain, our enemy must attack; otherwise he cannot make the moat

passable."

"That, Your Majesty, was the practice. Now he will gain the ditch by a

trench."

"With what object?"

"Under cover of the trench, he will fill the ditch."

Constantine viewed the operation with increased gravity. He could see

how feasible it was to dig a covered way under fire of the guns, making

the approach and the bombardment simultaneous; and he would have

replied, but that instant a mob of laborers--so the spades and picks

they bore bespoke them--poured from the embrasure of the larger gun,

and, distributing themselves at easy working intervals along the staked

line, began throwing up the earth on the side next the city. Officers

with whips accompanied and stood over them.

The engineer--if we may apply the modern term--was at length under fire

of the besieged; still he kept on; only when he exhausted his supply of

stakes did he retire, leaving it inferrible that the trench was to run

through the opening in the cemetery to the bridge way before the gate.

At noon, the laborers being well sunk in the ground, the cannon again

vomited fire and smoke, and with thunderous reports launched their

heavy bullets at the towers. Again the ancient piles shook from top to

base. Some of the balistiers were thrown down. The Emperor staggered

under the shock. One ball struck a few feet below a merlon of the

Bagdad, and when the dust blew away, an ugly crack was seen in the

exposed face of the wall, extending below the roof.

While the inspection of damages immediately ordered is in progress, we

take the liberty of transporting the reader elsewhere, that he may see

the effect of this amazing warfare on other parties of interest in the

tragedy.

Count Corti was with his guard at the foot of the tower when the first

discharge of artillery took place. He heard the loud reports and the

blows of the shot which failed not their aim; he heard also the sound

of the bullets flying on into the city, and being of a quick

imagination, shuddered to think of the havoc they might inflict should

they fall in a thickly inhabited district. Then it came to him that the

residence of the Princess Irene must be exposed to the danger. Like a

Christian and a lover, he, sought to allay the chill he felt by signing

the cross repeatedly, and with unction, on brow and breast. The pious

performance brought no relief. His dread increased. Finally he sent a

man with a message informing the Emperor that he was gone to see what

damage the guns had done in the city.

He had not ridden far when he was made aware of the prevalence of an

extraordinary excitement. It seemed the entire population had been

brought from their houses by the strange thunder, and the appalling

flight of meteoric bodies over their roofs. Men and women were running

about asking each other what had happened. At the corners he was

appealed to:

"Oh, for Christ's sake, stop, and tell us if the world is coming to an

end!" Arid in pity lie answered: "Do not be so afraid, good people. It

is the Turks. They are trying to scare us by making a great noise. Go

back into your houses."

"But the bullets which passed over us. What of them?"

"Where did they strike?"

"On further. God help the sufferers!"

One cry he heard so often it made an impression upon him:

"The _Panagia!_ Tell His Majesty, as he is a Christian, to bring the

Blessed Madonna from the Chapel."

With each leap of his horse he was now nearing the alighting places of

the missiles, and naturally the multiplying signs of terror he

observed, together with a growing assurance that the abode of the

Princess was in the range of danger, quickened his alarm for her. The

white faces of the women he met and passed without a word reminded him

the more that she was subject to the same peril, and in thought of her

he forgot to sympathize with them.

In Byzantium one might be near a given point yet far away; so did the

streets run up and down, and here and there, their eccentricities in

width and direction proving how much more accident and whim had to do

with them originally than art or science. Knowing this, the Count was

not sparing of his horse, and as his blood heated so did his fancy. If

the fair Princess were unhurt, it was scarcely possible she had escaped

the universal terror. He imagined her the object of tearful attention

from her attendants. Or perhaps they had run away, and left her in

keeping of the tender Madonna of Blacherne.

At last he reached a quarter where the throng of people compelled him

to slacken his gait, then halt and dismount. It was but a few doors

from the Princess'. One house--a frame, two stories--appeared the

object of interest.

"What has happened?" he asked, addressing a tall man, who stood

trembling and praying to a crucifix in his hand.

"God protect us, Sir Knight! See how clear the sky is, but a great

stone--some say it was a meteor--struck this house. There is the hole

it made. Others say it was a bullet from the Turks.--Save us, O Son of

Mary!" and he fell to kissing the crucifix.

"Was anybody hurt?" the Count asked, shaking the devotee.

"Yes--two women and a child were killed.--Save us, O Son of God! Thou

hast the power from the Father."

The Count picked his way toward the house till he could get no further,

so was it blocked by a mass of women on their knees, crying, praying,

and in agony of fright. There, sure enough, was a front beaten in,

exposing the wrecked interior. But who was the young woman at the door

calmly directing some men bringing out the body of one apparently dead?

Her back was to him, but the sunlight was tangled in her uncovered

hair, making gold of it. Her figure was tall and slender, and there was

a marvellous grace in her action. Who was she? The Count's heart was

prophetic. He gave the bridle rein to a man near by, and holding his

sword up, pushed through the kneeling mass. He might have been more

considerate in going; but he was in haste, and never paused until at

the woman's side. "God's mercy, Princess Irene!" he cried, "what dost

thou here? Are there not men to take this charge upon them?"

And in his joy at finding her safe, he fell upon his knees, and,

without waiting for her to offer the favor, took one of her hands, and

carried it to his lips.

"Nay, Count Corti, is it not for me to ask what thou dost here?"

Her face was solemn, and he could hardly determine if the eyes she

turned to him were not chiding; yet they were full of humid violet

light, and she permitted him to keep the hand while he replied:

"The Turk is for the time having his own way. We cannot get to him....

I came in haste to--to see what his guns have done--or--why should I

not say it? Princess, I galloped here fearing thou wert in need of

protection and help. I remembered that I was thy accepted knight."

She understood him perfectly, and, withdrawing her hand, returned:

"Rise, Count Corti, thou art in the way of these bearing the dead."

He stood aside, and the men passed him with their burden--a woman

drenched in blood.

"Is this the last one?" she asked them.

"We could find no other."

"Poor creature! ... Yet God's will be done! ... Bear her to my house,

and lay her with the others." Then to the Count she said: "Come with

me."

The Princess set out after the men. Immediately the women about raised

a loud lamentation; such as were nearest her cried out: "Blessings on

you!" and they kissed the hem of her gown, and followed her moaning and

weeping. The body was borne into the house, and to the chapel, and all

who wished went in. Before the altar, two others were lying lifeless on

improvised biers, an elderly woman and a half-grown girl. The Lady in

picture above the altar looked down on them, as did the Holy Child in

her arms; and there was much comfort to the spectators in the look.

Then, when the third victim was decently laid out, Sergius began the

service for the dead. The Count stood by the Princess, her attendants

in group a little removed from them.

In the midst of the holy ministration, a sound like distant rolling

thunder penetrated the chapel. Every one present knew what it was by

this time--knew at least it was not thunder--and they cried out, and

clasped each other--from their knees many fell grovelling on the floor.

Sergius' voice never wavered. Corti would have extended his arms to

give the Princess support; but she did not so much as change color; her

hands holding a silver triptych remained firm. The deadly bullets were

in the air and might alight on the house; yet her mind was too

steadfast, her soul too high, her faith too exalted for alarm; and if

the Count had been prone to love her for her graces of person, now he

was prompted to adore her for her courage.

Outside near by, there was a crash as of a flying solid smiting another

dwelling, and, without perceptible interval, an outcry so shrill and

unintermitted it required no explanation.

The Princess was the first to speak.

"Proceed, Sergius," she said; nor might one familiar with her voice

have perceived any alteration in it from the ordinary; then to the

Count again: "Let us go out; there may be others needing my care."

At the door Corti said: "Stay, O Princess--a word, I pray."

She had only to look at his face to discover he was the subject of a

fierce conflict of spirit.

"Have pity on me, I conjure you. Honor and duty call me to the gate;

the Emperor may be calling me; but how can I go, leaving you in the

midst of such peril and horrors?"

"What would you have me do?"

"Fly to a place of safety."

"Where?"

"I will find a place; if not within these walls, then"--

He stopped, and his eyes, bright with passion, fell before hers; for

the idea he was about giving his tongue would be a doubly dishonorable

coinage, since it included desertion of the beleaguered city, and

violation of his compact with Mahommed.

"And then?" she asked.

And love got the better of honor.

"I have a ship in the harbor, O Princess Irene, and a crew devoted to

me, and I will place you on its deck, and fly with you. Doubt not my

making the sea; there are not Christians and Mohammedans enough to stay

me once my anchor is lifted, and my oars out; and on the sea freedom

lives, and we will follow the stars to Italy, and find a home."

Again he stopped, his face this time wrung with sudden anguish; then he

continued:

"God forgive, and deal with me mercifully! I am mad! ... And thou, O

Princess--do thou forgive me also, and my words and weakness. Oh, if

not for my sake, then for that which carried me away! Or if thou canst

not forget, pity me, pity me, and think of the wretchedness now my

portion. I had thy respect, if not thy love; now both are lost--gone

after my honor. Oh! I am most miserable--miserable!"

And wringing his hands, he turned his face from her.

"Count Corti," she replied gently, "thou hast saved thyself. Let the

affair rest here. I forgive the proposal, and shall never remind thee

of it. Love is madness. Return to duty; and for me"--she hesitated--"I

hold myself ready for the sacrifice to which I was born. God is

fashioning it; in His own time, and in the form He chooses, He will

send it to me.... I am not afraid, and be thou not afraid for me. My

father was a hero, and he left me his spirit. I too have my duty born

within the hour--it is to share the danger of my kinsman's people, to

give them my presence, to comfort them all I can. I will show thee what

thou seemest not to have credited--that a woman can be brave as any

man. I will attend the sick, the wounded, and suffering. To the dying I

will carry such consolation as I possess--all of them I can reach--and

the dead shall have ministration. My goods and values have long been

held for the poor and unfortunate; now to the same service I consecrate

myself, my house, my chapel, and altar.... There is my hand in sign of

forgiveness, and that I believe thee a true knight. I will go with thee

to thy horse."

He bowed his head, and silently struggling for composure, carried the

hand to his lips.

"Let us go now," she said.

They went out together.

Another dwelling had been struck; fortunately it was unoccupied.

In the saddle, he stayed to say: "Thy soul, O Princess Irene, is

angelic as thy face. Thou hast devoted thyself to the suffering. Am I

left out? What word wilt thou give me?"

"Be the true knight thou art, Count Corti, and come to me as before."

He rode away with a revelation; that in womanly purity and goodness

there is a power and inspiration beyond the claims of beauty.

The firing continued. Seven times that day the Turks assailed the Gate

St. Romain with their guns; and while a few of the stones discharged

flew amiss into the city, there were enough to still further terrorize

the inhabitants. By night all who could had retreated to vaults,

cellars, and such hiding-places as were safe, and took up their abodes

in them. In the city but one woman went abroad without fear, and she

bore bread and medicines, and dressed wounds, and assuaged sorrows, and

as a Madonna in fact divided worship with the Madonna in the chapel up

by the High Residence. Whereat Count Corti's love grew apace, though

the recollection of the near fall he had kept him humble and

circumspect.

The same day, but after the second discharge of the guns, Mahommed

entered the part of his tent which, with some freedom, may be termed

his office and reception-room, since it was furnished with seats and a

large table, the latter set upon a heavily tufted rug, and littered

over with maps and writing and drawing materials. Notable amongst the

litter was the sword of Solomon. Near it lay a pair of steel gauntlets

elegantly gilt. One stout centre-tree, the main support of the roof of

camel's hair, appeared gayly dressed with lances, shields, arms, and

armor; and against it, strange to say, the companion of a bright red

battle-flag, leant the banderole Count Corti had planted before the

door the morning of the sally. A sliding flap overhead, managed by

cords in the interior, was drawn up, admitting light and air.

The office, it may be added, communicated by gay portieres with four

other apartments, each having its separate centre-tree; one occupied by

Kalil, the Vizier; one, a bed-chamber, so to speak; one, a stable for

the imperial stud; the fourth belonged to no less a person than our

ancient and mysterious acquaintance, the Prince of India.

Mahommed was in half-armor; that is, his neck, arms, and body were in

chain mail, the lightest and most flexible of the East, exquisitely

gold-washed, and as respects fashion exactly like the suit habitually

affected by Count Corti. His nether limbs were clad in wide trousers of

yellow silk, drawn close at the ankles. Pointed shoes of red leather

completed his equipment, unless we may include a whip with heavy handle

and long lash. Could Constantine have seen him at the moment, he would

have recognized the engineer whose performance in tracing the trench he

had witnessed with so much interest in the morning.

The Grand Chamberlain received him with the usual prostration, and in

that posture waited his pleasure.

"Bring me water. I am thirsty."

The water was brought.

"The Prince of India now."

Presently the Prince appeared in the costume peculiar to him--a cap and

gown of black velvet, loose trousers, and slippers. His hair and beard

were longer than when we knew him a denizen of Constantinople, making

his figure seem more spare and old; otherwise he was unchanged. He too

prostrated himself; yet as he sank upon his knees, he gave the Sultan a

quick glance, intended doubtless to discover his temper more than his

purpose.

"You may retire."

This to the Chamberlain.

Upon the disappearance of the official, Mahommed addressed the Prince,

his countenance flushed, his eyes actually sparkling.

"God is great. All things are possible to him. Who shall say no when he

says yes? Who resist when he bids strike? Salute me, and rejoice with

me, O Prince. He is on my side. It was he who spoke in the thunder of

my guns. Salute me, and rejoice. Constantinople is mine! The towers

which have outlasted the ages, the walls which have mocked so many

conquerors--behold them tottering to their fall! I will make dust of

them. The city which has been a stumbling-block to the true faith shall

be converted in a night. Of the churches I will make mosques. Salute me

and rejoice! How may a soul contain itself knowing God has chosen it

for such mighty things? Rise, O Prince and rejoice with me!"

He caught up the sword of Solomon, and in a kind of ecstasy strode

about flourishing it.

The Prince, arisen, replied simply: "I rejoice with my Lord;" and

folding his arms across his breast, he waited, knowing he had been

summoned for something more serious than to witness an outburst so

wild--that directly this froth would disappear, as bubbles vanish from

wine just poured. The most absolute of men have their ways--this was

one of Mahommed's. And behind his composed countenance the Jew smiled,

for, as he read it, the byplay was an acknowledgment of his influence

over the chosen of God.

And he was right. Suddenly Mahommed replaced the sword, and standing

before him, asked abruptly:

"Tell me, have the stars fixed the day when I may assault the Gabours?"

"They have, my Lord."

"Give it to me."

The Prince returned to his apartment, and came back with a horoscope.

"This is their decision, my Lord."

In his character of Messenger of the Stars, the Prince of India

dispensed with every observance implying inferiority.

Without looking at the Signs, or at the planets in their Houses;

without noticing the calculations accompanying the chart; glancing

merely at the date in the central place, Mahommed frowned, and said:

"The twenty-ninth of May! Fifty-three days! By Allah and Mahomet arid

Christ--all in one--if by the compound the oath will derive an extra

virtue--what is there to consume so much time? In three days I will

have the towers lording this gate they call St. Romain in the ditch,

and the ditch filled. In three days, I say."

"Perhaps my Lord is too sanguine--perhaps he does not sufficiently

credit the skill and resources of the enemy behind the gate--perhaps

there is more to do than he has admitted into his anticipations."

Mahommed darted a look at the speaker.

"Perhaps the stars have been confidential with their messenger, and

told him some of the things wanting to be done."

"Yes, my Lord." The calmness of the Prince astonished Mahommed.

"And art thou permitted to be confidential with me?" he asked.

"My Lord must break up this collection of his guns, and plant some of

them against the other gates; say two at the Golden Gate, one at the

Caligaria, and before the Selimbria and the Adrianople two each. He

will have seven left.... Nor must my Lord confine his attack to the

landward side; the weakest front of the city is the harbor front, and

it must be subjected. He should carry there at least two of his guns."

"Sword of Solomon!" cried Mahommed. "Will the stars show me a road to

possession of the harbor? Will they break the chain which defends its

entrance? Will they sink or burn the enemy's fleet?"

"No; those are heroisms left for my Lord's endeavor."

"Thou dost taunt me with the impossible."

The Prince smiled.

"Is my Lord less able than the Crusaders? I know he is not too proud to

be taught by them. Once, marching upon the Holy City, they laid siege

to Nicea, and after a time discovered they could not master it without

first mastering Lake Ascanius. Thereupon they hauled their ships three

leagues overland, and launched them in the lake." [Footnote: VON

HAMMER, _Hist. de l'Emp. Ottoman._]

Mahommed became thoughtful.

"If my Lord does not distribute the guns; if he confines his attack to

St. Romain, the enemy, in the day of assault, can meet him at the

breach with his whole garrison. More serious, if the harbor is left to

the Greeks, how can he prevent the Genoese in Galata from succoring

them? My Lord derives information from those treacherous people in the

day; does he know of the intercourse between the towns by boats in the

night? If they betray one side, will they be true to the other? My

Lord, they are Christians; so are these with whom we are at war."

The Sultan sank into a seat; and satisfied with the impression he had

made, the Prince wisely allowed him his thoughts.

"It is enough!" said the former, rising. Then fixing his eye on his

confederate, he asked: "What stars told thee these things, O Prince?"

"My Lord, the firmament above is God's, and the sun and planets there

are his mercifully to our common use. But we have each of us a

firmament of our own. In mine, Reason is the sun, and of its stars I

mention two--Experience and Faith. By the light of the three, I

succeed; when I refuse them, one or all, I surrender to chance."

Mahommed caught up the sword, and played with its ruby handle, turning

it at angles to catch its radiations; at length he said:

"Prince of India, thou hast spoken like a Prophet. Go call Kalil and

Saganos."

CHAPTER IX

THE MADONNA TO THE RESCUE

We have given the opening of the siege of Byzantium by Mahommed with

dangerous minuteness, the danger of course being from the critic. We

have posted the warders on their walls, and over against them set the

enemy in an intrenched line covering the whole landward side of the

city. We have planted Mahommed's guns, and exhibited their power,

making it a certainty that a breach in the wall must be sooner or later

accomplished. We have shown the effect of the fire of the guns, not

only on the towers abutting the gate which was the main object of

attack, but on the non-combatants, the women and children, in their

terror seeking safety in cellars, vaults, and accessible underground

retreats. We have carefully assembled and grouped those of our

characters who have survived to this trying time; and the reader is

informed where they are, the side with which their fortunes are cast,

their present relations to each other, and the conditions which environ

them. In a word, the reader knows their several fates are upon them,

and the favors we now most earnestly pray are to be permitted to pass

the daily occurrences of the siege, and advance quickly to the end.

Even battles can become monotonous in narrative.

The Sultan, we remark, adopted the suggestions of the Prince of India.

He distributed his guns, planting some of them in front of the several

gates of the city. To control the harbor, he, in modern parlance,

erected a battery on a hill by Galata; then in a night, he drew a part

of his fleet, including a number of his largest vessels, from

Besich-tasch on the Bosphorus over the heights and hollows of Pera, a

distance of about two leagues, and dropped them in the Golden Horn.

These Constantine attacked. Justiniani led the enterprise, but was

repulsed. A stone bullet sunk his ship, and he barely escaped with his

life. Most of his companions were drowned; those taken were pitilessly

hung. Mahommed next collected great earthen jars--their like may yet be

seen in the East--and, after making them air-tight, laid a bridge upon

them out toward the single wall defending the harbor front. At the

further end of this unique approach he placed a large gun; and so

destructive was the bombardment thus opened that fire-ships were sent

against the bridge and battery. But the Genoese of Galata betrayed the

scheme, and it was baffled. The prisoners captured were hanged in view

of the Greeks, and in retaliation Constantine exposed the heads of a

hundred and sixty Turks from the wall.

On the landward side Mahommed was not less fortunate. The zigzag trench

was completed, and a footing obtained for his men in the moat, whence

they strove to undermine the walls.

Of the lives lost during these operations no account was taken, since

the hordes were the victims. Their bodies were left as debris in the

roadway so expensively constructed. Day after day the towers Bagdad and

St. Romain were more and more reduced. Immense sections of them

tumbling into the ditch were there utilized. Day after day the exchange

of bullets, bolts, stones, and arrows was incessant. The shouting in

many tongues, heating of drums, and blowing of horns not seldom

continued far into the night.

The Greeks on their side bore up bravely. Old John Grant plied the

assailants with his inextinguishable fire. Constantine, in seeming

always cheerful, never shirking, visited the walls; at night, he

seconded Justiniani in hastening needful repairs. Finally the steady

drain upon the stores in magazine began to tell. Provisions became

scarce, and the diminution of powder threatened to silence the

culverins and arquebuses. Then the Emperor divided his time between the

defences and Sancta Sophia--between duty as a military commander, and

prayer as a Christian trustful in God. And it was noticeable that the

services at which he assisted in the ancient church were according to

Latin rites; whereat the malcontents in the monasteries fell into

deeper sullenness, and refused the dying the consolation of their

presence. Gennadius assumed the authority of the absent Patriarch, and

was influential as a prophet. The powerful Brotherhood of the St.

James', composed of able-bodied gentry and nobles who should have been

militant at the gates, regarded the Emperor as under ban. Notaras and

Justiniani quarrelled, and the feud spread to their respective

followers.

One day, about the time the Turkish ships dropped, as it were, from the

sky into the harbor, when the store of powder was almost exhausted, and

famine menaced the city, five galleys were reported in the offing down

the Marmora. About the same time the Turkish flotilla was observed

making ready for action. The hungry people crowded the wall from the

Seven Towers to Point Serail. The Emperor rode thither in haste, while

Mahommed betook himself to the shore of the sea. A naval battle ensued

under the eyes of the two. [Footnote: The following is a translation of

Von Hammer's spirited account of this battle:

"The 15th of April, 1453, the Turkish fleet, of more than four hundred

sails, issued from the bay of Phidalia, and directing itself toward the

mouth of the Bosphorus on the western side, cast anchor near the two

villages to-day Besich-tasch. A few days afterward five vessels

appeared in the Marmora, one belonging to the Emperor, and four to the

Genoese. During the month of March they had been unable to issue from

Scio; but a favorable wind arising, they arrived before Constantinople,

all their sails unfurled. A division of the Turkish fleet, more than a

hundred and fifty in number, advanced to bar the passage of the

Christian squadron and guard the entrance to the harbor. The sky was

clear, the sea tranquil, the walls crowded with spectators. The Sultan

himself was on the shore to enjoy the spectacle of a combat in which

the superiority of his fleet seemed to promise him a certain victory.

But the eighteen galleys at the head of the division, manned by

inexperienced soldiers, and too low at the sides, were instantly

covered with arrows, pots of Greek fire, and a rain of stones launched

by the enemy. They were twice repulsed. The Greeks and the Genoese

emulated each other in zeal. Flectanelli, captain of the imperial

galley, fought like a lion; Cataneo, Novarro, Balaneri, commanding the

Genoese, imitated his example. The Turkish ships could not row under

the arrows with which the water was covered; they fouled each other,

and two took fire. At this sight Mahommed could not contain himself; as

if he would arrest the victory of the Greeks, he spurred his horse in

the midst of the ships. His officers followed him trying to reach the

vessels combating only a stone's throw away. The soldiers, excited by

shame or by fear, renewed the attack, but without success, and the five

vessels, favored by a rising wind, forced a passage through the

opposition, and happily entered the harbor."] The Christian squadron

made the Golden Horn, and passed triumphantly behind the chain

defending it. They brought supplies of corn and powder. The relief had

the appearance of a merciful Providence, and forthwith the fighting was

renewed with increased ardor. Kalil the Vizier exhorted Mahommed to

abandon the siege.

"What, retire now? Now that the gate St. Romain is in ruins and the

ditch filled?" the Sultan cried in rage. "No, my bones to Eyoub, my

soul to Eblis first. Allah sent me here to conquer."

Those around attributed his firmness, some to religious zeal, some to

ambition; none of them suspected how much the compact with Count Corti

had to do with his decision.

To the lasting shame of Christian Europe, the arrival of the five

galleys, and the victory they achieved, were all of succor and cheer

permitted the heroic Emperor.

But the unequal struggle wore on, and with each set of sun Mahommed's

hopes replumed themselves. From much fondling and kissing the sword of

Solomon, and swearing by it, the steel communicated itself to his will;

while on the side of the besieged, failures, dissensions, watching and

labor, disparity in numbers, inferiority in arms, the ravages of death,

and the neglect of Christendom, slowly but surely invited despair.

Weeks passed thus. April went out; and now it is the twenty-third of

May. On the twenty-ninth--six days off--the stars, so we have seen,

will permit an assault.

And on this day the time is verging midnight. Between the sky and the

beleaguered town a pall of clouds is hanging thick. At intervals light

showers filter through the pall, and the drops fall perpendicularly,

for there is no wind. And the earth has its wrap of darkness, only over

the seven hills of the old capital it appears to be in double folds

oppressively close. Darkness and silence and vacancy, which do not

require permission to enter by a gate, have possession of the streets

and houses; except that now and then a solitary figure, gliding

swiftly, turns a corner, pauses to hear, moves on again, and disappears

as if it dropped a curtain behind it. Desertion is the rule. The hush

is awful. Where are the people?

To find each other friends go from cellar to cellar. There are vaults

and arched passages, crypts under churches and lordly habitations,

deep, damp, mouldy, and smelling of rotten air, sheltering families. In

many districts all life is underground. Sociality, because it cannot

exist under such conditions save amongst rats and reptiles, ceased some

time ago. Yet love is not dead--thanks, O Heaven, for the divine

impulse!--it has merely taken on new modes of expression; it shows

itself in tears, never in laughter; it has quit singing, it moans; and

what moments mothers are not on their knees praying, they sit crouched,

and clasping their little ones, and listen pale with fear and want.

Listening is the universal habit; and the start and exclamation with

which in the day the poor creatures recognize the explosive thunder of

Mahommed's guns explain the origin of the habit.

At this particular hour of the twenty-third of May there are two

notable exceptions to the statement that darkness, silence and vacancy

have possession of the streets and houses.

By a combination of streets most favorable for the purpose, a

thoroughfare had come into use along which traffic preferably drove its

bulky commodities from St. Peter's on the harbor to the Gates St.

Romain and Adrianople; its greater distance between terminal points

being offset by advantages such as solidity, width and gentler grades.

In one of the turns of this very crooked way there is now a murky flush

cast by flambeaux sputtering and borne in hand. On either side one may

see the fronts of houses without tenants, and in the way itself long

lines of men tugging with united effort at some cumbrous body behind

them. There is no clamor. The labor is heavy, and the laborers in

earnest. Some of them wear round steel caps, but the majority are

civilians with here and there a monk, the latter by the Latin cross at

his girdle an _azymite_. Now and then the light flashes back from a

naked torso streaming with perspiration. One man in armor rides up and

down the lines on horseback. He too is in earnest. He speaks low when

he has occasion to stop and give a direction, but his face seen in

flashes of the light is serious, and knit with purpose. The movement of

the lines is slow; at times they come to a dead stand-still. If the

halt appears too long the horseman rides back and comes presently to

the black hull of a dismantled galley on rollers. The stoppages are to

shift the rollers forward. When the shifting is done, he calls out:

"Make ready, men!" Whereupon every one in the lines catches hold of a

rope, and at his "Now--for love of Christ!" there follows a pull with

might, and the hull drags on.

In these later days of the siege there are two persons actively engaged

in the defence who are more wrought upon by the untowardness of the

situation than any or all their associates--they are the Emperor and

Count Corti.

There should be no difficulty in divining the cause of the former's

distress. It was too apparent to him that his empire was in desperate

straits; that as St. Romain underwent its daily reduction so his

remnant of State and power declined. And beholding the dissolution was

very like being an enforced witness of his own dying.

But Count Corti with the deepening of the danger only exerted himself

the more. He seemed everywhere present--now on the ruins of the towers,

now in the moat, now foremost in a countermine, and daily his

recklessness increased. His feats with bow and sword amazed his

friends. He became a terror to the enemy. He never tired. No one knew

when he slept. And as note was taken of him, the question was

continually on the lip, What possesses the man? He is a foreigner--this

is not his home--he has no kindred here--what can be his motive? And

there were who said it was Christian zeal; others surmised it was

soldier habit; others again, that for some reason he was disgusted with

life; yet others, themselves of sordid natures, said the Emperor

affected him, and that he was striving for a great reward in promise.

As in the camps of the besiegers none knew the actual reason of

Mahommed's persistence, so here the secret of the activity which left

the Count without a peer in performance and daring went without

explanation.

A few--amongst them the Emperor--were aware of the meaning of the red

net about the Italian's neck--it shone so frequently through the smoke

and dust of hourly conflict as to have become a subject of general

observation--yet in the common opinion he was only the lady's knight;

and his battle cry, _For Christ and Irene--Now!_ did but confirm the

opinion. Time and time again, Mahommed beheld the doughty deeds of his

rival, heard his shout, saw the flash of his blade, sometimes near,

sometimes afar, but always where the press was thickest. Strange was it

that of the two hosts he alone understood the other's inspiration? He

had only to look into his own heart, and measure the force of the

passion there.

The horseman we see in charge of the removal of the galley-hulk this

night of the twenty-third of May is Count Corti. It is wanted at St.

Romain. The gate is a hill of stone and mortar, without form; the moat

almost level from side to side; and Justiniani has decided upon a

barricade behind a new ditch. He will fill the hull with stones, and

defend from its deck; and it must be on the ground by break of day.

Precisely as Count Corti was bringing the galley around the turn of the

thoroughfare, Constantine was at the altar in Sancta Sophia where

preparations for mass were making; that is, the priests were changing

their vestments, and the acolytes lighting the tall candles. The

Emperor sat in his chair of state just inside the brass railing,

unattended except by his sword-bearer. His hands were on his knees, his

head bowed low. He was acknowledging a positive need of prayer. The

ruin at the gate was palpable; but God reigned, and might be reserving

his power for a miraculous demonstration.

The preparation was about finished when, from the entrances of the

Church opposite the nave, a shuffling of many feet was heard. The light

in that quarter was weak, and some moments passed before the Emperor

perceived a small procession advancing, and arose. The garbs were of

orthodox Brotherhoods which had been most bitter in their denunciation.

None of them had approached the door of the holy house for weeks.

The imperial mind was greatly agitated by the sight. Were the brethren

recanting their unpatriotic resolutions? Had Heaven at last given them

an understanding of the peril of the city? Had it brought to them a

realization of the consequences if it fell under the yoke of the

Turk?--That the whole East would then be lost to Christendom, with no

date for its return? A miracle!--and to God the glory! And without a

thought of himself the devoted man walked to the gate of the railing,

and opening it, waited to receive the penitents.

Before him in front of the gate they knelt--in so far they yielded to

custom.

"Brethren," he said, "this high altar has not been honored with your

presence for many days. As Basileus, I bid you welcome back, and dare

urge the welcome in God's holy name. Reason instructs me that your

return is for a purpose in some manner connected with the unhappy

condition in which our city and empire, not to mention our religion,

are plunged. Rise, one of you, and tell me to what your appearance at

this solemn hour is due."

A brother in gray, old and stooped, arose, and replied:

"Your Majesty, it cannot be that you are unacquainted with the

traditions of ancient origin concerning Constantinople and Hagia

Sophia; forgive us, however, if we fear you are not equally well

informed of a more recent prophecy, creditably derived, we think, and

presume to speak of its terms. 'The infidels'--so the prediction

runs--'will enter the city; but the instant they arrive at the column

of Constantine the Great, an angel will descend from Heaven, and put a

sword in the hands of a man of low estate seated at the foot of the

column, and order him to avenge the people of God with it. Overcome by

sudden terror, the Turks will then take to flight, and be driven, not

only from the city, but to the frontier of Persia.' [Footnote: Von

Hammer.] This prediction relieves us, and all who believe in it, from

fear of Mahommed and his impious hordes, and we are grateful to Heaven

for the Divine intervention. But, Your Majesty, we think to be

forgiven, if we desire the honor of the deliverance to be accounted to

the Holy Mother who has had our fathers in care for so many ages, and

redeemed them miraculously in instances within Your Majesty's

knowledge. Wherefore to our purpose.... We have been deputed by the

Brotherhoods in Constantinople, united in devotion to the Most Blessed

Madonna of Blacherne, to pray your permission to take the _Panagia_

from the Church of the Virgin of Hodegetria, where it has been since

the week of the Passover, and intrust it to the pious women of the

city. To-morrow at noon, Your Majesty consenting, they will assemble at

the Acropolis, and with the banner at their head, go in procession

along the walls and to every threatened gate, never doubting that at

the sight of it the Sultan and his unbaptized hordes will be reft of

breath of body or take to flight.... This we pray of Your Majesty, that

the Mother of God may in these degenerate days have back the honor and

worship accorded her by the Emperors and Greeks of former times."

The old man ceased, and again fell upon his knees, while his associate

deputies rang the space with loud _Amens_.

It was well the light was dim, and the Emperor's face in shadow; it was

well the posture of the petitioners helped hide him from close study; a

feeling mixed of pity, contempt, and unutterable indignation seized

him, distorting his features, and shaking his whole person. Recantation

and repentance!--Pledge of loyalty!--Offer of service at the gates and

on the shattered walls!--Heaven help him! There was no word of apology

for their errors and remissness--not a syllable in acknowledgment of

his labors and services--and he about to pray God for strength to die

if the need were, as became the Emperor of a brave and noble people!

An instant he stood gazing at them--an instant of grief, shame,

mortification, indignation, all heightened by a burning sense of

personal wrong. Ay, God help him!

"Bear with me a little," he said quietly, and passing the waiting

priests, went and knelt upon a step of the altar in position to lay his

head upon the upper step. Minutes passed thus. The deputies supposed

him praying for the success of the morrow's display; he was in fact

praying for self-possession to answer them as his judgment of policy

demanded.

At length he arose, and returned to them, and had calmness to say:

"Arise, brethren, and go in peace. The keeper of the Church will

deliver the sacred banner to the pious women. Only I insist upon a

condition; if any of them are slain by the enemy, whom you and they

know to have been bred in denial of womanly virtue, scorning their own

mothers and wives, and making merchandise of their daughters--if any of

them be slain, I say, then you shall bear witness to those who sent you

to me that I am innocent of the blood-guilt. Arise, and go in peace."

They marched out of the Church as they had come in, and he proceeded

with the service.

Next day about ten o'clock in the morning there was a lull in the

fighting at the Gate St. Romain. It were probably better to say the

Turks for some reason rested from their work of bringing stones,

tree-trunks, earth in hand carts, and timbers wrenched from

houses--everything, in fact, which would serve to substantially fill

the moat in that quarter. Then upon the highest heap of what had been

the tower of Bagdad Count Corti appeared, a black shield on his arm,

his bow in one hand, his banderole in the other.

"Have a care, have a care!" his friends halloed. "They are about firing

the great gun."

Corti seemed not to hear, but deliberately planted the banderole, and

blowing his trumpet three times, drew an arrow from the quiver at his

back. The gun was discharged, the bullet striking below him. When the

dust cleared away, he replied with his trumpet. Then the Turks, keeping

their distance, set up a cry. Most of the arrows shot at him fell

short. Seeing their indisposition to accept his challenge, he took seat

upon a stone.

Not long then until a horseman rode out from the line of Janissaries

still guarding the eminence, and advanced down the left of the zigzag

galloping.

He was in chain mail glistening like gold, but wore flowing yellow

trousers, while his feet were buried in shoe-stirrups of the royal

metal. Looking over the small round black shield on his left arm, and

holding a bow in the right hand, easy in the saddle, calm, confident,

the champion slackened speed when within arrow flight, but commenced

caracoling immediately. A prolonged hoarse cry arose behind him. Of the

Christians, the Count alone recognized the salute of the Janissaries,

still an utterance amongst Turkish soldiers, in literal translation:

_The Padishah! Live the Padishah!_ The warrior was Mahommed himself!

Arising, the Count placed an arrow at the string, and shouted, "_For

Christ and Irene--Now!_" With the last word, he loosed the shaft.

Catching the missile lightly on his shield, Mahommed shouted back:

"_Allah-il-Allah!_" and sent a shaft in return. The exchange continued

some minutes. In truth, the Count was not a little proud of the enemy's

performance. If there was any weakness on his part, if his clutch of

the notch at the instant of drawing the string was a trifle light, the

fault was chargeable to a passing memory. This antagonist had been his

pupil. How often in the school field, practising with blunted arrows,

the two had joyously mimicked the encounter they were now holding. At

last a bolt, clanging dully, dropped from the Sultan's shield, and

observing that it was black feathered, he swung from his seat to the

ground, and, shifting the horse between him and the foe, secured the

missile, and remounted.

_"Allah-il-Allah!"_ he cried, slowly backing the charger out of range.

The Count repeated the challenge through his trumpet, and sat upon the

stone again; but no other antagonist showing himself, he at length

descended from the heap.

In his tent Mahommed examined the bolt; and finding the head was of

lead, he cut it open, and extracted a scrip inscribed thus:

"To-day at noon a procession of women will appear on the walls. You may

know it by the white banner a monk will bear, with a picture of the

Madonna painted on it. _The Princess Irene marches next after the

banner._"

Mahommed asked for the time. It was half after ten o'clock. In a few

minutes the door was thronged by mounted officers, who, upon receiving

a verbal message from him, sped away fast as they could go.

Thereupon the conflict was reopened. Indeed, it raged more fiercely

than at any previous time, the slingers and bowmen being pushed up to

the outer edge of the moat, and the machines of every kind plied over

their heads. In his ignorance of the miracle expected of the Lady of

the Banner, Mahommed had a hope of deterring the extraordinary march.

Nevertheless at the appointed hour, ten o'clock, the Church of the

Virgin of Hodegetria was surrounded by nuns and monks; and presently

the choir of Sancta Sophia issued from the house, executing a solemn

chant; the Emperor followed in Basilean vestments; then the _Panagia_

appeared.

At sight of the picture of the Very Holy Virgin painted front view, the

eyes upraised, the hands in posture of prayer, the breast covered by a

portrait of the Child, the heads encircled by the usual nimbus, the

mass knelt, uttering cries of adoration.

The Princess Irene, lightly veiled and attired in black, advanced, and,

kissing the fringed corners of the hallowed relic, gathered the white

staying ribbons in her hands; thereupon the monk appointed to carry it

moved after the choir, and the nuns took places. And there were tears

and sighs, but not of fear. The Mother of God would now assume the

deliverance of her beloved capital. As it had been to the Avars, and

later to the Russians under Askold and Dir, it would be now to Mahommed

and his ferocious hordes--all Heaven would arm to punish them. They

would not dare look at the picture twice, or if they did--well, there

are many modes of death, and it will be for the dear Mother to choose.

Thus the women argued. Possibly a perception of the failure in the

defence, sharpened by a consciousness of the horrors in store for them

if the city fell by assault, turned them to this. There is no relief

from despair like faith.

From the little church, the devotees of the Very Holy Virgin took their

way on foot to the southeast, chanting as they went, and as they went

their number grew. Whence the accessions, none inquired.

They first reached a flight of steps leading to the banquette or

footway along the wall near the Golden Gate. The noise of the conflict,

the shouting and roar of an uncounted multitude of men in the heat and

fury of combat, not to more than mention the evidences of the

conflict--arrows, bolts, and stones in overflight and falling in

remittent showers--would have dispersed them in ordinary mood; but they

were under protection--the Madonna was leading them--to be afraid was

to deny her saving grace. And then there was no shrinking on the part

of the Princess Irene. Even as she took time and song from the choir,

they borrowed of her trust.

At the foot of the steps the singers turned aside to allow the

_Panagia_ to go first. The moment of miracle was come! What form would

the manifestation take? Perhaps the doors and windows of Heaven would

open for a rain of fire--perhaps the fighting angels who keep the

throne of the Father would appear with swords of lightning--perhaps the

Mother and Son would show themselves. Had they not spared and converted

the Khagan of the Avars? Whatever the form, it were not becoming to

stand between the _Panagia_ and the enemy.

The holy man carrying the ensign was trustful as the women, and he

ascended the steps without faltering. Gathering the ribbons a little

more firmly in her hands, the Princess kept her place. Up--up they were

borne--Mother and Son. Then the white banner was on the height--seen

first by the Greeks keeping the wall, and in the places it discovered

them, they fell upon their faces, next by the hordes. And they--oh, a

miracle, a miracle truly!--they stood still. The bowman drawing his

bow, the slinger whirling his sling, the arquebusers taking aim matches

in hand, the strong men at the winches of the mangonels, all

stopped--an arresting hand fell on them--they might have been changed

to pillars of stone, so motionlessly did they stand and look at the

white apparition. _Kyrie Eleison_, thrice repeated, then _Christie

Eleison_, also thrice repeated, descended to them in the voices of

women, shrilled by excitement.

And the banner moved along the wall, not swiftly as if terror had to do

with its passing, but slowly, the image turned outwardly, the Princess

next it, the ribbons in her hands; after her the choir in full chant;

and then the long array of women in ecstasy of faith and triumph; for

before they were all ascended, the hordes at the edge of the moat, and

those at a distance--or rather such of them as death or wounds would

permit--were retreating to their entrenchment. Nor that merely--the

arrest which had fallen at the Golden Gate extended along the front of

leaguerment from the sea to Blacherne, from Blacherne to the Acropolis.

So it happened that in advance of the display of the picture, without

waiting for the _Kyrie Eleison_ of the glad procession, the Turks took

to their defences; and through the city, from cellar, and vault, and

crypt, and darkened passage, the wonderful story flew; and there being

none to gainsay or explain it, the miracle was accepted, and the

streets actually showed signs of a quick return to their old life. Even

the very timid took heart, and went about thanking God and the _Panagia

Blachernitissa_.

And here and there the monks passed, sleek and blithe, and complacently

twirling the Greek crosses at the whip-ends of their rosaries of

polished horn buttons large as walnuts, saying:

"The danger is gone. See what it is to have faith! Had we kept on

trusting the _azymites_, whether Roman cardinal or apostate Emperor, a

muezzin would ere long, perhaps to-morrow, be calling to prayer from

the dome of Hagia Sophia. Blessed be the _Panagia!_ To-night let us

sleep; and then--then we will dismiss the mercenaries with their Latin

tongues."

But there will be skeptics to the last hour of the last day; so is the

world made of kinds of men. Constantine and Justiniani did not disarm

or lay aside their care. In unpatriotic distrust, they kept post behind

the ruins of St. Romain, and saw to it that the labor of planting the

hull of the galley for a new wall, strengthened with another ditch of

dangerous depth and width, was continued.

And they were wise; for about four o'clock in the afternoon, there was

a blowing of horns on the parapet by the monster gun, and five heralds

in tunics stiff with gold embroidery, and trousers to

correspond--splendid fellows, under turbans like balloons, each with a

trumpet of shining silver--set out for the gate, preceding a stately

unarmed official.

The heralds halted now and then to execute a flourish. Constantine,

recognizing an envoy, sent Justiniani and Count Corti to meet him

beyond the moat, and they returned with the Sultan's formal demand for

the surrender of the city. The message was threatening and imperious.

The Emperor replied offering to pay tribute. Mahommed rejected the

proposal, and announced an assault.

The retirement of the hordes at sight of the _Panagia_ on the wall was

by Mahommed's order. His wilfulness extended to his love--he did not

intend the Princess Irene should suffer harm.

CHAPTER X

THE NIGHT BEFORE THE ASSAULT

The artillery of Mahommed had been effective, though not to the same

degree, elsewhere than at St. Romain. Jerome the Italian and Leonardo

di Langasco the Genoese, defending the port of Blacherne in the

lowland, had not been able to save the Xiloporta or Wood Gate on the

harbor front harmless; under pounding of the floating battery it lay in

the dust, like a battered helmet.

John Grant and Theodore de Carystos looked at the green hills of Eyoub

in front of the gate Caligaria or Charsias, assigned to them, through

fissures and tumbles-down which made their hearts sore. The Bochiardi

brothers, Paul and Antonin, had fared no better in their defence of the

gate Adrianople. At the gate Selimbria, Theophilus Palaeologus kept the

Imperial flag flying, but the outer faces of the towers there were in

the ditch serving the uses of the enemy. Contarino the Venetian, on the

roof of the Golden Gate, was separated from the wall reaching northward

to Selimbria by a breach wide enough to admit a chariot. Gabriel

Trevisan, with his noble four hundred Venetians, kept good his grip on

the harbor wall from the Acropolis to the gate of St. Peter's. Through

the incapacity or treason of Duke Notaras, the upper portion of the

Golden Horn was entirely lost to the Christians. From the Seven Towers

to Galata the Ottoman fleet held the wall facing the Marmora as a net

of close meshes holds the space of water it is to drag. In a word, the

hour for assault had arrived, and from the twenty-fourth to evening of

the twenty-eighth of May Mahommed diligently prepared for the event.

The attack he reduced to a bombardment barely sufficient to deter the

besiegers from systematic repairs. The reports of his guns were but

occasionally heard. At no time, however, was the energy of the man more

conspicuous. Previously his orders to chief officers in command along

the line had been despatched to them; now he bade them to personal

attendance; and, as may be fancied, the scene at his tent was

orientally picturesque from sunrise to sunset. Such an abounding of

Moslem princes and princes not Moslem, of Pachas, and Beys, and

Governors of Castles, of Sheiks, and Captains of hordes without titles;

such a medley of costumes, and armor, and strange ensigns; such a

forest of tall shafts flying red horse-tails; such a herding of

caparisoned steeds; such a company of trumpeters and heralds--had

seldom if ever been seen. It seemed the East from the Euphrates and Red

Sea to the Caspian, and the West far as the Iron Gates of the Danube,

were there in warlike presence. Yet for the most part these selected

lions of tribes kept in separate groups and regarded each other

askance, having feuds and jealousies amongst themselves; and there was

reason for their good behavior--around them, under arms, were fifteen

thousand watchful Janissaries, the flower of the Sultan's host, of whom

an old chronicler has said, Each one is a giant in stature, and the

equal of ten ordinary men.

Throughout those four days but one man had place always at Mahommed's

back, his confidant and adviser--not Kalil, it is to be remarked, or

Saganos, or the Mollah Kourani, or Akschem-sed-din the Dervish.

"My Lord," the Prince of India had argued when the Sultan resolved to

summon his vassal chiefs to personal conference, "all men love

splendor; pleasing the eye is an inducement to the intelligent;

exciting the astonishment of the vulgar disposes them to submit to

superiority in another without wounding their vanity. The Rajahs in my

country practise this philosophy with a thorough understanding. Having

frequently to hold council with their officials, into the tent or hall

of ceremony they bring their utmost riches. The lesson is open to my

Lord."

So when his leaders of men were ushered into the audience, the interior

of Mahommed's tent was extravagantly furnished, and their prostrations

were at the step of a throne. Nevertheless in consenting to the

suggestion, the Sultan had insisted upon a condition.

"They shall not mistake me for something else than a warrior--a

politician or a diplomatist, for instance--or think the heaviest blow I

can deal is with the tongue or a pen. Art thou hearing, Prince?"

"I hear, my Lord."

"So, by the tomb of the Prophet--may his name be exalted!--my

household, viziers and all, shall stand at my left; but here on my

right I will have my horse in panoply; and he shall bear my mace and

champ his golden bit, and be ready to tread on such of the beggars as

behave unseemly."

And over the blue and yellow silken rugs of Khorassan, with which the

space at the right of the throne was spread, the horse, bitted and

house led, had free range, an impressive reminder of the master's

business of life.

As they were Christians or Moslems, Mahommed addressed the vassals

honored by his summons, and admitted separately to his presence; for

the same arguments might not be pleasing to both.

"I give you trust," he would say to the Christian, "and look for brave

and loyal service from you.... I shall be present with you, and as an

eyewitness judge of your valor, and never had men such incentives. The

wealth of ages is in the walls before us, and it shall be yours--money,

jewels, goods and people--all yours as you can lay hands on it. I

reserve only the houses and churches. Are you poor, you may go away

rich; if rich, you may be richer; for what you get will be honorable

earnings of your right hand of which none shall dispossess you--and to

that treaty I swear.... Rise now, and put your men in readiness. The

stars have promised me this city, and their promises are as the breath

of the God we both adore."

Very different in style and matter were his utterances to a Moslem.

"What is that hanging from thy belt?"

"It is a sword, my Lord."

"God is God, and there is no other God--_Amin!_ And he it was who

planted iron in the earth, and showed the miner where it was hid, and

taught the armorer to give it form, and harden it, even the blade at

thy belt; for God had need of an instrument for the punishment of those

who say 'God hath partners.' ... And who are they that say 'God hath

partners--a Son and his Mother'? Here have they their stronghold; and

here have we been brought to make roads through its walls, and turn

their palaces of unbelief into harems. For that thou hast thy sword,

and I mine--_Amin!_... It is the will of God that we despoil these

_Gabours_ of their wealth and their women; for are they not of those of

whom it is said: 'In their hearts is a disease, and God hath increased

their disease, and for them is ordained a painful punishment, because

they have charged the Prophet of God with falsehood'? That they who

escape the sharpness of our swords shall be as beggars, and slaves, and

homeless wanderers--such is the punishment, and it is the judgment of

God--_Amin!_ ... That they shall leave all they have behind them--so

also hath God willed, and I say it shall be. I swear it. And that they

leave behind them is for us who were appointed from the beginning of

the world to take it; that also God wills, and I say it shall be. I

swear it. _Amin!_ ... What if the way be perilous, as I grant it is? Is

it not written: 'A soul cannot die except by permission of God,

according to a writing of God, definite as to time'? And if a man die,

is it not also written: 'Repute not those slain in God's cause to be

dead; nay, alive with God, they are provided for'? They are people of

the 'right hand,' of whom it is written: 'They shall be brought nigh

God in the gardens of delight, upon inwrought couches reclining face to

face. Youths ever young shall go unto them round about with goblets and

ewers, and a cup of flowing wine; and fruits of the sort which they

shall choose, and the flesh of birds of the kind which they shall

desire, and damsels with eyes like pearls laid up, we will give them as

a reward for that which they have done.' ... But the appointed time is

not yet for all of us--nay, it is for the fewest--_Amin!_ ... And when

the will of God is done, then for such as live, lo! over the walls

yonder are gold refined and coined, and gold in vessels, and damsels on

silken couches, their cheeks like roses of Damascus, their arms whiter

and cooler than lilies, and as pearls laid up are their eyes, and their

bodies sweeter than musk on the wings of the south wind in a grove of

palms. With the gold we can make gardens of delight; and the damsels

set down in the gardens, ours the fault if the promise be not made good

as it was spoken by the Prophet--'Paradise shall be brought near unto

the pious, to a place not distant from them, so they shall see it!' ...

Being of those who shall 'receive their books in the right hand,' more

need not be said unto you. I only reserve for myself the houses when

you have despoiled them, and the churches. Make ready yourself and your

people, and tell them faithfully what I say, and swear to. I will come

to you with final orders. Arise!" [Footnote: For the quotations in this

speech, see _Selections from the Koran_, by EDWARD WILLIAM LANE.]

From sunrise to sunset of the twenty-seventh Mahommed was in the saddle

going with the retinue of a conqueror from chief to chief. From each he

drew a detachment to be held in reserve. One hundred thousand men were

thus detached.

"See to it," he said finally, "that you direct your main effort against

the gate in front of you.... Put the wild men in the advance. The dead

will be useful in the ditch.... Have the ladders at hand.... At the

sound of my trumpets, charge.... Proclaim for me that he who is first

upon the walls shall have choice of a province. I will make him

governor. God is God. I am his servant, ordering as he has ordered."

On the twenty-eighth, he sent all the dervishes in camp to preach to

the Moslems in arms; and of such effect were their promises of pillage

and Paradise that after the hour of the fifth prayer, the multitude, in

all quite two hundred and fifty thousand, abandoned themselves to

transports of fanaticism. Of their huts and booths they made heaps, and

at night set fire to them; and the tents of the Pachas and great

officers being illuminated, and the ships perfecting the blockade

dressed in lights, the entrenchment from Blacherne to the Seven Towers,

and the sea thence to the Acropolis, were in a continued brilliance

reaching up to the sky. Even the campania was invaded by the dazzlement

of countless bonfires.

And from the walls the besieged, if they looked, beheld the antics of

the hordes; if they listened, they heard the noise, in the distance, a

prolonged, inarticulate, irregular clamor of voices, near by, a

confusion of songs and cries. At times the bray of trumpets and the

roll of drums great and small shook the air, and smothered every rival

sound. And where the dervishes came, in their passage from group to

group, the excitement arose out of bounds, while their dancing lent

diablerie to the scene.

Assuredly there was enough in what they beheld to sink the spirit of

the besieged, even the boldest of them. The cry _Allah-il-Allah_

shouted from the moat was trifling in comparison with what they might

have overheard around the bonfires.

"Why do you burn your huts?" asked a prudent officer of his men.

"Because we will not need them more. The city is for us to-morrow. The

Padishah has promised and sworn."

"Did he swear it?"

"Ay, by the bones of the Three in the Tomb of the Prophet."

At another fire, the following:

"Yes, I have chosen my palace already. It is on the hill over there in

the west."

And again:

"Tell us, O son of Mousa, when we are in the town what will you look

for?"

"The things I most want."

"Well, what things?"

"May the Jinn fill thy stomach with green figs for such a question of

my mother's son! What things? Two horses out of the Emperor's stable.

And thou--what wilt thou put thy hand to first?"

"Oh, I have not made up my mind! I am thinking of a load of gold for my

camel--enough to take my father and his three wives to Mecca, and buy

water for them from the Zem-zem. Praised be Allah!"

"Bah! Gold will be cheap."

"Yes, as bezants; but I have heard of a bucket the unbelieving Greeks

use at times for mixing wine and bread in. It is when they eat the body

of their God. They say the bucket is so big it takes six fat priests to

lift it."

"It is too big. I'll gather the bezants."

"Well," said a third, with a loud Moslem oath, "keep to your gold,

whether in pots or coin. For me--for me"--

"Ha, ha!--he don't know."

"Don't I? Thou grinning son of a Hindoo ape."

"What is it, then?"

"The thing which is first in thy mind."

"Name it."

"A string of women."

"Old or young?"

"An _hoo-rey-yeh_ is never old."

"What judgment!" sneered the other. "I will take some of the old ones

as well."

"What for?"

"For slaves to wait on the young. Was it not said by a wise man, 'Sweet

water in the jar is not more precious than peace in the family'?"

Undoubtedly the evil genius of Byzantium in this peril was the Prince

of India.

"My Lord," he had said, cynically, "of a truth a man brave in the day

can be turned into a quaking coward at night; you have but to present

him a danger substantial enough to quicken his imagination. These

Greeks have withstood you stoutly; try them now with your power a

vision of darkness."

"How, Prince?"

"In view and hearing from the walls let the hordes kindle fires

to-night. Multiply the fires, if need be, and keep the thousands in

motion about them, making a spectacle such as this generation has not

seen; then"--

The singular man stopped to laugh.

Mahommed gazed at him in silent wonder.

"Then," he continued, "so will distorted fancy do its work, that by

midnight the city will be on its knees praying to the Mother of God,

and every armed man on the walls who has a wife or daughter will think

he hears himself called to for protection. Try it, my Lord, and thou

mayst whack my flesh into ribbons if by dawn the general fear have not

left but a half task for thy sword."

It was as the Jew said.

Attracted by the illumination in the sky, suggestive of something vast

and terrible going on outside the walls, and still full of faith in a

miraculous deliverance, thousands hastened to see the mercy. What an

awakening was in store for them! Enemies seemed to have arisen out of

the earth--devils, not men. The world to the horizon's rim appeared

oppressed with them. Nor was it possible to misapprehend the meaning of

what they beheld. "To-morrow--to-morrow"--they whispered to each

other--"God keep us!" and pouring back into the streets, they became

each a preacher of despair. Yet--marvelous to say--the monks sallied

from their cells with words of cheer.

"Have faith," they said. "See, we are not afraid. The Blessed Mother

has not deserted her children. Believe in her. She is resolved to allow

the _azymite_ Emperor to exhaust his vanity that in the last hour he

and his Latin myrmidons may not deny her the merit of the salvation.

Compose yourselves, and fear not. The angel will find the poor man at

the column of Constantine."

The ordinary soul beset with fears, and sinking into hopelessness, is

always ready to accept a promise of rest. The people listened to the

priestly soothsayers. Nay, the too comforting assurance made its way to

the defenders at the gates, and hundreds of them deserted their posts;

leaving the enemy to creep in from the moat, and, with hooks on long

poles, actually pull down some of the new defences.