CHAPTER XXXVIII.
The siege and capture of Constantinople by the Turks in 1453, was,with the exception of the discovery of America, the most significantevent of the fifteenth century. The Eastern Roman Empire thenperished, after eleven centuries of glory and shame; of heroicconquests, and pusillanimous compromises with other powers for theprivilege of existence; exhibiting on its throne the virtues andwisdom of Theodosius and Justinian, and the vices and follies ofemperors and empresses whose names it were well that the world shouldforget.
But the historic importance of the siege was matched by the thrillinginterest which attaches to its scenes.
The last of the Constantines, from whose hands the queenly city waswrested, was worthy the name borne by its great founder, not, perhaps,for his display of genius in government and command, but for the piousdevotion and sacrificial courage with which he defended his trust. Aband of less than ten thousand Christians, mostly Greeks, and a fewLatins whose love for the essential truth of their religion wasstronger than their bigotry for sect, withstood for many weeks thehorrors which were poured upon them by a quarter of a million Moslems.These foes were made presumptuous by nearly a century of uncheckedconquest; their hot blood boiled with fury and daring excited by thepromises of their religion, which opened paradise to those thatperished with the sword; and they were led by the first flashings ofthe startling genius and audacity of Mahomet II.
The Bosphorus was blockaded six miles above the city by the newfortress, Rumili-Hissar, the Castle of Europe; answering across thenarrow strait to Anadolu-Hissari--the Castles of Asia.
A fleet of three hundred Moslem vessels crowded the entrance to theBosphorus, to resist any Western ally of the Christians that mighthave run the gauntlet of forts which guarded the lower entrance toMarmora. At the same time this naval force threatened the long waterfront of the city with overwhelming assault. The wall which laybetween the sea of Marmora and the Golden Horn, and made the city atriangle, looked down upon armies gathered from the many lands betweenthe Euphrates and Danube;--the feudal chivalry from their ziametsunder magnificently accoutred beys; the terrible Akindji, the mountedscourge of the borders of Christendom; the motley hordes of Azabs,light irregular foot-soldiers,--these filling the plains for milesaway:--while about the tents of the Sultan were the Royal HorseGuards, the Spahis, Salihdars, Ouloufedji and Ghoureba, rivals for theapplause of the nations, as the most daring of riders and most skilfulof swordsmen: and the Janizaries, who boasted that their tread was asresistless as the waves of an earthquake.
Miners from Servia were ready to burrow beneath the walls. A greatcannon cast by Urban, the Dacian, who had deserted from the Christianto the Moslem camp, gaped ready to hurl its stone balls of six hundredpounds weight. It was flanked by two almost equally enormousfire-vomiting dragons, as the new artillery was called: while fourteenother batteries of lesser ordnance were waiting to pour their stillnovel destruction upon the works. Ancient art blended with modernscience in the attack; for battering rams supplemented cannon, andtrenches breast-deep completed the lines of shields. Moving forts ofwood antagonized, across the deep moat, the old stone towers, whichduring the centuries had hurled back their assailants in more thantwenty sieges. The various hosts of besiegers in their daily movementswere like the folds of an enormous serpent, writhing in evercontracting circles about the body of some helpless prey. From dawn todark the walls crumbled beneath the pounding of the artillery; butfrom dark to dawn they rose again under the toil of the sleeplessdefenders.
Thousands, impelled by the commands of the Sultan, and more, perhaps,by the prospect of reward in this world, and in another, out of whichbright-eyed houris were watching their prospective lords, mounted thescaling ladders only to fill with their bodies the moat beneath. Atthe point of greatest danger the besieged were inspired with thecourage of their Emperor, and by the aid of the bands of Italians whomthe purse and the appeals of John Giustiniani had brought as the lastoffering of the common faith of Christendom upon the great altaralready dripping with a nation's blood.
Sometimes when the Christians, whose fewness compared with theassailants compelled them to serve both day and night, werediscouraged by incessant danger and fatigue, a light form in helmetand breastplate moved among them, regardless of arrows and bullets oflead: now stooping to staunch the wounds of the fallen; now mountingthe parapet, where scores of stout soldiers shielded her with theirbodies, and hailed her presence with the shout of "The Albanian! TheAlbanian!" The reverence which the soldiers gave to the devoted nuns,who were incessant in their ministry of mercy, was surpassed by thatwith which they regarded Morsinia. She had become in their eyes theimpersonation of the cause for which they were struggling.
The interruption by the war of the negotiations with the Emir ofTrebizond, whose daughter had been selected as the imperial spouse,revived the rumors which had once associated the fair Albanian's namewith that of his Majesty; and gave rise to a nick-name, "the LittleEmpress," which, among the soldiers, came to be spoken with almost asmuch loyalty of personal devotion, as if it had received the imperialsanction.
Constantine's solicitude led him to remonstrate with Morsinia for theexposure of her person to the dangers of the wall: but she replied--
"Have you not said, my dear brother, that the defence is hopeless?that the city must fall? What fate then awaits me? The Turks haveservice for men whom they capture, which, though hard, is not damningto body and soul. What if they send you to the mines, to the galleys?What if they slay you? You can endure that. Yet I know that youyourself would perish in the fight before you would submit to evensuch a fate. But what is the destiny of a woman who shall fall intotheir hands? It is better to die than to be taken captive. And is notyonder breach where the men of the true God are giving their lives fortheir faith, as sacred as was ever an altar on earth? Is not the crownof martyrdom better than a living death in the harem of the infidel?The arrow that finds me there on the wall shall be to me as an angelfrom heaven; and a death-wound received there will be as painless tomy soul as the kiss of God."
"But this must not be!" cried Constantine. "Our valor, if it does notsave the city, may lead to surrender upon terms which shall save allthe lives of the people."
"It is impossible," replied she. "His Majesty informed me yesterdaythat Mahomet had pledged to his soldiers the spoil of the city, withunlimited license to pillage."
Constantine was silent, but at length added. "If worst comes, it willthen be time enough to expose your life."
"But the end is near, dear Constantine. The city is badly provisioned.The poor are already starving. The garrison is on allowance which cansustain it but a few days. Besides, as you have told me, the Italiansare at feud with the Greeks, and ready to open the gates if faminepresses upon them."
"Yes, curses on the head of that monk Gennadius, who sends insult toour allies every day from his cell!" muttered Constantine. "But Icannot see you in danger, Morsinia. Promise me--for your life isdearer to me than my own--that you will not go upon the walls. I neednot the solemn oath to our brave Castriot, and that to our fatherKabilovitsch, that I will guard you. But, if not for my sake, then fortheir sake, take my counsel. I know that you are under the specialcare of the Blessed Jesu. Has He not shielded us both--me for yoursake--many times before?"
"Your words are wise, my brother. You need not urge the will ofCastriot and father Kabilovitsch, for your own wish is to me as sacredas that of any one on earth," said she, looking him in the eyes withthe reverence of affection, and yielding to his embrace as he kissedher forehead.
"But," added she, "I must exact of you one promise."
"Any thing, my darling, that is consistent with your safety," was thequick reply.
"It is this. Promise me, by the Virgin Mother of God, that you willnot allow me to become a living captive to the Turk."
"Not if my life can shield you. This you know!"
"Yes, I would not ask that, but something harder than that you shoulddie for me."
A
pallor spread over the face of Constantine, for he suspected hermeaning, yet asked, "And what--what may that be?"
"Take my life with your own hand, rather than that a Turk should touchme," said Morsinia, without the slightest tremor in her voice.
Constantine stood aghast. Morsinia continued, taking his strong righthand in hers, and raising it to her lips--
"That were joy, indeed, if the hand of him who loves me, the handwhich has saved me from danger so often--could redeem me from thiswhich I fear more than a thousand deaths! Promise me for love's sake!"
"I may not promise such a thing," said the young lover, with a voicewhich showed that her request had cut him to the heart.
"Then you love me not," said the girl, turning away.
But the look upon Constantine's face showed the terrible tragedy whichwas in his soul, and that such an accusation brought it too near itsculmination. Instantly she threw herself into his arms.
"Forgive me! forgive me!" cried she. "I will not impugn that lovewhich has proved itself too often. But let us speak calmly of it. Whyshould you shrink from this?" she asked, leading him to a seat besideher.
"Because I love you. My hand would become paralyzed sooner than touchrudely a hair of your head."
"Nay, in that you do not know yourself," said Morsinia. "Would you notpluck a mole from my face if I was marred by it in your eyes!"
"But that would be to perfect, not to harm you," said Constantine.
"And did you not hold the hand of the poor soldier to-day, while theleech was cutting him, lest the gangrene should infect his whole bodywith poison? And would you not have done so had he been your long lostbrother, Michael, whom you loved? And would you not have done it morewillingly because you loved him?"
"Yes," said Constantine, "but that would be to save life, not todestroy it."
"But what, my brother dear, is the fairness of a face compared withthe fairness of honor? What the breath of the body, when both the bodyand the soul in it are threatened with contamination of such anexistence as every woman receives from the Turk?"
"I cannot argue with you, Morsinia. My nature rebels against the deedyou propose."
"But," replied she, "is not love nobler, and should it not bestronger, than nature? If nature should rebel against love, let lovecrush the rebellion, and show its sovereignty. If my hand shouldtremble to do aught that your true service required, I would accuse myhand of lack of devotion. But I think that men do not know the fulnessof love as women do."
"Let me ask the question of you, Morsinia," replied the young loverafter a pause. "Could you take my life as I lie here? Will your handmix the poison to put to my lips in the event of the Turk entering thecity? My life will be worse than death in its bitterness if you arelost to me."
Morsinia pondered the question, growing pale with the fearfulness ofthe thought. For a while she was speechless. The imagination startedby Constantine's question seemed to stun her. She stared at the vaguedistance. At length she burst into tears, and laying her head upon hercompanion's shoulder, said:
"I love you too dearly, Constantine, to ask that of you which youshrink from doing. There is another who can render me the service."
"Who would dare?" said Constantine, rising and gazing wildly at her."Who would dare to touch you, even at your own bidding?"
"I would," said Morsinia quietly. "And this I shall save for themoment when I need the last friend on earth," she added, drawing fromher dress the bright blade of an Italian stiletto. "Perhaps, my heartwould tremble, and my flesh shrink from the sharp point, though I lovenot myself as I love you."
"Let us talk no more of this," said Constantine, "but leave it for thehour of necessity, which happily I think will not soon come. I musttell you now for what I sought you. I have been ordered this verynight to aid in a venture which, heaven grant! shall re-provision thecity. Several large galleys, laden with corn and oil, are now comingup the sea from Genoa. If they see the cordon of the enemy's shipsdrawn across the harbor, not knowing the extremity to which the cityis reduced, they may return without venturing an encounter. I am toreach them, and, if possible, induce them to cut their way through.The great chain at the entrance to the Golden Horn will be lowered atthe opportune moment, and all the shipping in the harbor will make anattack upon the enemy's fleet. Of this our allies must be informed. Assoon as it is dark I shall drift in a swift little skiff between theseTurkish boats; and before the dawn I shall be far down on Marmora.To-morrow night, if your prayers are offered, Jesu will grant ussuccess."
With a kiss he released himself from her embrace and was gone.
The Captain of the Janizaries Page 38
