Constantine eluded the heavy boats of the Turks, which were anchored
to prevent their drifting away upon the swift current with which the
Black Sea discharges itself through the Bosphorus into Marmora. Upon
meeting the befriending galleys, it was with little difficulty that he
persuaded the Genoese captains to risk the encounter with the Turkish
fleet. As Constantine pointed out to the Italian captains, the
enormous navy of the blockaders, formed in the shape of a crescent,
and stretched from the wall of the city across to the Asiatic shore,
presented a more formidable obstacle to the eye than to the swift and
skilfully manned Genoese galleys. The Turkish boats were generally but
small craft, and laden down to the water's edge with men. The Genoese
had four galleys, together with one which belonged to Byzantium.
These were vessels of the largest size, constructed by men who had
learned to assert their prowess as lords of the sea. They were armed
with cannon adapted to sweep the deck of an adversary at short
range:--a weapon which the Turks had not yet floated, though they were
in advance of the Christians in using such artillery on land. The high
sides of the Christian galleys, moreover, prevented their being
boarded except with dangerous climbing, while the defenders stood
ready to pour the famous liquid called "Greek fire" upon the heads of
those who should attempt it. Besides, heaven favored the Christians;
for a strong gale was blowing, which, while it tossed the boats of
their adversaries beyond their easy control, filled the sails of the
Genoese, and sent them bounding over the waves: the oarsmen sitting
ready to catch deftly into the bending billows with their blades. Each
of the five vessels chose for a target a large one of the Turks, and
clove it with its iron prow: while the cannon swept the Turkish
soldiers by hundreds from other boats near to them. Passing through
the thin crescent, the Christian galleys skilfully tacked, and,
careening upon their sides, again assailed the Turks before they could
evade their swift and resistless momentum. Again and again the galleys
passed, like shuttles on a loom, through the line of the enemy,
sinking the unwieldy hulks and drowning the crowded crews.
From the walls and house tops of the city went up huzzas for the
victors and praises to heaven. From the shores of Asia, and from below
the city wall, thousands of Moslems groaned their imprecations. The
Sultan raged upon the beach, as he saw one after another of his
pennants sink beneath the waves. Dashing far into the sea upon his
horse, he vented his impotent fury in beating the water with his mace,
shrieking maledictions into the laughing winds, and invoking upon the
Christians curses from all the Pagan gods and Moslem saints.
At one moment the Byzantine galley was nearly overcome, having been
caught in a group of Turkish boats, whose occupants climbed her sides,
and did murderous work among the crew. Though ultimately rescued by
the Genoese, it was only after severe loss.
But above all other casualties the Christians mourned the fate of
young Constantine. With almost superhuman strength he had cut down
several assailants; but was finally set upon by such odds that he was
pressed over the low bulwarks, and fell into the sea. The galley with
its consorts made way to the chain at the entrance to the Golden Horn,
where the rich stores, a thousand times richer now in the necessity
which they relieved, were received amid the acclamations of the
grateful Greeks.
But woe,--Oh, so heavy! crushed one solitary heart. Her eyes stared
wildly at the messenger who brought the fatal tidings; and stared,
hour by hour, in their stony grief, upon the wall of her apartment.
Kind attendants spoke to her, but she heard them not. Her soul seemed
to have gone seeking in other worlds the soul of her lover. The
servants, awed by the majesty of her sorrow, sat down in the court
without, and waited: but she called them not. Daylight faded into
darkness. The lamp which was brought she waved with her hand to have
taken away. The maidens who came to disrobe her for the night found
her bowed with her face upon the couch; and, receiving no response to
their proffered offices, retired again to wait.
The morning came; and the cheer of the sunlight which, quickening the
outer world, poured through the windows high in the walls of her
apartment, seemed to awaken her from her trance. But how changed in
appearance! The ruddy hue of health, and the bronzing of daily
exposure to the open air, seemed alike to have been blanched by that
which had taken hope from her soul. Her eyes were sunken, and the
lustre in them, though not lessened, now seemed to come from an
infinite depth--from some distant, inner world which had lost all
relation to this, as a passing star. Morsinia rose, weak at first; but
her limbs grew strong with the imparted strength of her will. She ate;
and speaking aloud--but more in addressing herself than her
attendants--said: "I will away to the walls!"
Through the masses of debris, and among the groups of men who were
resting and waiting to take the places of their wearied comrades on
the ramparts, she went straight to the gate of St. Romanus, where the
assaults were most incessant. The cry of "The Little Empress!" gave
way to that of "The Panurgia! The Panurgia!"[77] as some, though
familiar with her form, were startled by the almost unearthly change
of her countenance. She returned no salutation as was usual with her,
but, as if impelled by some superhuman purpose, her beauty lit as with
a halo by the majesty of a celestial passion, she climbed the steps
into the tottering tower above the gate. A strong, but gentle hand was
put upon her arm. It was that of the Emperor.
"My daughter, you must not be here. Come away!"
She looked at him for an instant in hesitation; and then, bowing her
head, responded in scarcely audible voice:
"I will obey you, Sire," and added, speaking to herself--
"It is _his_ will too."
"I know your grief," said his majesty kindly, "and now, as your
Emperor, I must protect you against yourself."
"I want no protection," cried the broken-hearted girl. "Oh, let me
die! For what should I live?"
"My dear child," said the Emperor with trembling voice, while the
tears filled his eyes. "In other days your holy faith taught me how to
be strong. Now, in your necessity, let me repeat to you the lesson.
For what shall _you_ live? For what should _I_ live? I am Emperor, but
my empire is doomed. I live no longer for earthly hope, but solely to
do duty; nothing but duty, stern duty, painful every instant, crushing
always, but a burden heaven imposed on a breaking heart. That heaven
appoints it--that, and that alone--makes me willing to live and do it.
When the time comes I shall seek death where the slain lie the
thickest. But not to-day; for to-day I can serve. Live for duty! Live
for God! The days may not be many before we shall clasp hands with
those who, now invisible, are looking upon us. Let us go and cheer the
living before we seek the companionship of the dead."
As the Emperor spoke, his face glowed with a majesty of soul which
made the symbol of earthly majesty that adorned his brow seem poor
indeed.
Gazing a moment with reverent amazement at the man who had already
received the divine anointing for the sacrifice of martyrdom he was so
soon to offer, Morsinia responded:
"Your words, Sire, come to me as from the lips of God. I will go and
pray, and then--then I shall live for duty."
FOOTNOTES:
[77] The Panurgia, a name given to the Holy Virgin, who at a former
siege of Constantinople, in 1422, was imagined to have appeared upon
the wall for its defense.