by Lew Wallace
CHAPTER IX
THE MADONNA TO THE RESCUE
We have given the opening of the siege of Byzantium by Mahommed withdangerous minuteness, the danger of course being from the critic. Wehave posted the warders on their walls, and over against them set theenemy in an intrenched line covering the whole landward side of thecity. We have planted Mahommed's guns, and exhibited their power,making it a certainty that a breach in the wall must be sooner or lateraccomplished. We have shown the effect of the fire of the guns, notonly on the towers abutting the gate which was the main object ofattack, but on the non-combatants, the women and children, in theirterror seeking safety in cellars, vaults, and accessible undergroundretreats. We have carefully assembled and grouped those of ourcharacters who have survived to this trying time; and the reader isinformed where they are, the side with which their fortunes are cast,their present relations to each other, and the conditions which environthem. 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 passthe 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 severalgates 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 partof his fleet, including a number of his largest vessels, fromBesich-tasch on the Bosphorus over the heights and hollows of Pera, adistance of about two leagues, and dropped them in the Golden Horn.These Constantine attacked. Justiniani led the enterprise, but wasrepulsed. A stone bullet sunk his ship, and he barely escaped with hislife. Most of his companions were drowned; those taken were pitilesslyhung. Mahommed next collected great earthen jars--their like may yet beseen in the East--and, after making them air-tight, laid a bridge uponthem out toward the single wall defending the harbor front. At thefurther end of this unique approach he placed a large gun; and sodestructive was the bombardment thus opened that fire-ships were sentagainst the bridge and battery. But the Genoese of Galata betrayed thescheme, and it was baffled. The prisoners captured were hanged in viewof the Greeks, and in retaliation Constantine exposed the heads of ahundred and sixty Turks from the wall.
On the landward side Mahommed was not less fortunate. The zigzag trenchwas completed, and a footing obtained for his men in the moat, whencethey strove to undermine the walls.
Of the lives lost during these operations no account was taken, sincethe hordes were the victims. Their bodies were left as debris in theroadway so expensively constructed. Day after day the towers Bagdad andSt. Romain were more and more reduced. Immense sections of themtumbling into the ditch were there utilized. Day after day the exchangeof bullets, bolts, stones, and arrows was incessant. The shouting inmany tongues, heating of drums, and blowing of horns not seldomcontinued far into the night.
The Greeks on their side bore up bravely. Old John Grant plied theassailants with his inextinguishable fire. Constantine, in seemingalways cheerful, never shirking, visited the walls; at night, heseconded Justiniani in hastening needful repairs. Finally the steadydrain upon the stores in magazine began to tell. Provisions becamescarce, and the diminution of powder threatened to silence theculverins and arquebuses. Then the Emperor divided his time between thedefences and Sancta Sophia--between duty as a military commander, andprayer as a Christian trustful in God. And it was noticeable that theservices at which he assisted in the ancient church were according toLatin rites; whereat the malcontents in the monasteries fell intodeeper sullenness, and refused the dying the consolation of theirpresence. Gennadius assumed the authority of the absent Patriarch, andwas influential as a prophet. The powerful Brotherhood of the St.James', composed of able-bodied gentry and nobles who should have beenmilitant at the gates, regarded the Emperor as under ban. Notaras andJustiniani quarrelled, and the feud spread to their respectivefollowers.
One day, about the time the Turkish ships dropped, as it were, from thesky into the harbor, when the store of powder was almost exhausted, andfamine menaced the city, five galleys were reported in the offing downthe Marmora. About the same time the Turkish flotilla was observedmaking ready for action. The hungry people crowded the wall from theSeven Towers to Point Serail. The Emperor rode thither in haste, whileMahommed betook himself to the shore of the sea. A naval battle ensuedunder the eyes of the two. [Footnote: The following is a translation ofVon Hammer's spirited account of this battle:
"The 15th of April, 1453, the Turkish fleet, of more than four hundredsails, issued from the bay of Phidalia, and directing itself toward themouth of the Bosphorus on the western side, cast anchor near the twovillages to-day Besich-tasch. A few days afterward five vesselsappeared in the Marmora, one belonging to the Emperor, and four to theGenoese. During the month of March they had been unable to issue fromScio; but a favorable wind arising, they arrived before Constantinople,all their sails unfurled. A division of the Turkish fleet, more than ahundred and fifty in number, advanced to bar the passage of theChristian squadron and guard the entrance to the harbor. The sky wasclear, the sea tranquil, the walls crowded with spectators. The Sultanhimself was on the shore to enjoy the spectacle of a combat in whichthe superiority of his fleet seemed to promise him a certain victory.But the eighteen galleys at the head of the division, manned byinexperienced soldiers, and too low at the sides, were instantlycovered with arrows, pots of Greek fire, and a rain of stones launchedby the enemy. They were twice repulsed. The Greeks and the Genoeseemulated each other in zeal. Flectanelli, captain of the imperialgalley, fought like a lion; Cataneo, Novarro, Balaneri, commanding theGenoese, imitated his example. The Turkish ships could not row underthe arrows with which the water was covered; they fouled each other,and two took fire. At this sight Mahommed could not contain himself; asif he would arrest the victory of the Greeks, he spurred his horse inthe midst of the ships. His officers followed him trying to reach thevessels combating only a stone's throw away. The soldiers, excited byshame or by fear, renewed the attack, but without success, and the fivevessels, favored by a rising wind, forced a passage through theopposition, and happily entered the harbor."] The Christian squadronmade the Golden Horn, and passed triumphantly behind the chaindefending it. They brought supplies of corn and powder. The relief hadthe appearance of a merciful Providence, and forthwith the fighting wasrenewed with increased ardor. Kalil the Vizier exhorted Mahommed toabandon the siege.
"What, retire now? Now that the gate St. Romain is in ruins and theditch filled?" the Sultan cried in rage. "No, my bones to Eyoub, mysoul to Eblis first. Allah sent me here to conquer."
Those around attributed his firmness, some to religious zeal, some toambition; none of them suspected how much the compact with Count Cortihad to do with his decision.
To the lasting shame of Christian Europe, the arrival of the fivegalleys, and the victory they achieved, were all of succor and cheerpermitted the heroic Emperor.
But the unequal struggle wore on, and with each set of sun Mahommed'shopes replumed themselves. From much fondling and kissing the sword ofSolomon, and swearing by it, the steel communicated itself to his will;while on the side of the besieged, failures, dissensions, watching andlabor, 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 ofMay. 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 thebeleaguered town a pall of clouds is hanging thick. At intervals lightshowers filter through the pall, and the drops fall perpendicularly,for there is no wind. And the earth has its wrap of darkness, only overthe seven hills of the old capital it appears to be in double foldsoppressively close. Darkness and silence and vacancy, which do notrequire permission to enter by a gate, have possession of the streetsand houses; excep
t that now and then a solitary figure, glidingswiftly, turns a corner, pauses to hear, moves on again, and disappearsas if it dropped a curtain behind it. Desertion is the rule. The hushis awful. Where are the people?
To find each other friends go from cellar to cellar. There are vaultsand arched passages, crypts under churches and lordly habitations,deep, damp, mouldy, and smelling of rotten air, sheltering families. Inmany districts all life is underground. Sociality, because it cannotexist under such conditions save amongst rats and reptiles, ceased sometime ago. Yet love is not dead--thanks, O Heaven, for the divineimpulse!--it has merely taken on new modes of expression; it showsitself in tears, never in laughter; it has quit singing, it moans; andwhat 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 withwhich in the day the poor creatures recognize the explosive thunder ofMahommed's guns explain the origin of the habit.
At this particular hour of the twenty-third of May there are twonotable exceptions to the statement that darkness, silence and vacancyhave possession of the streets and houses.
By a combination of streets most favorable for the purpose, athoroughfare had come into use along which traffic preferably drove itsbulky commodities from St. Peter's on the harbor to the Gates St.Romain and Adrianople; its greater distance between terminal pointsbeing 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 flushcast by flambeaux sputtering and borne in hand. On either side one maysee the fronts of houses without tenants, and in the way itself longlines of men tugging with united effort at some cumbrous body behindthem. There is no clamor. The labor is heavy, and the laborers inearnest. Some of them wear round steel caps, but the majority arecivilians with here and there a monk, the latter by the Latin cross athis girdle an _azymite_. Now and then the light flashes back from anaked torso streaming with perspiration. One man in armor rides up anddown the lines on horseback. He too is in earnest. He speaks low whenhe has occasion to stop and give a direction, but his face seen inflashes of the light is serious, and knit with purpose. The movement ofthe lines is slow; at times they come to a dead stand-still. If thehalt appears too long the horseman rides back and comes presently tothe black hull of a dismantled galley on rollers. The stoppages are toshift the rollers forward. When the shifting is done, he calls out:"Make ready, men!" Whereupon every one in the lines catches hold of arope, and at his "Now--for love of Christ!" there follows a pull withmight, and the hull drags on.
In these later days of the siege there are two persons actively engagedin the defence who are more wrought upon by the untowardness of thesituation than any or all their associates--they are the Emperor andCount Corti.
There should be no difficulty in divining the cause of the former'sdistress. It was too apparent to him that his empire was in desperatestraits; that as St. Romain underwent its daily reduction so hisremnant of State and power declined. And beholding the dissolution wasvery like being an enforced witness of his own dying.
But Count Corti with the deepening of the danger only exerted himselfthe more. He seemed everywhere present--now on the ruins of the towers,now in the moat, now foremost in a countermine, and daily hisrecklessness increased. His feats with bow and sword amazed hisfriends. He became a terror to the enemy. He never tired. No one knewwhen he slept. And as note was taken of him, the question wascontinually on the lip, What possesses the man? He is a foreigner--thisis not his home--he has no kindred here--what can be his motive? Andthere were who said it was Christian zeal; others surmised it wassoldier habit; others again, that for some reason he was disgusted withlife; yet others, themselves of sordid natures, said the Emperoraffected him, and that he was striving for a great reward in promise.As in the camps of the besiegers none knew the actual reason ofMahommed's persistence, so here the secret of the activity which leftthe Count without a peer in performance and daring went withoutexplanation.
A few--amongst them the Emperor--were aware of the meaning of the rednet about the Italian's neck--it shone so frequently through the smokeand dust of hourly conflict as to have become a subject of generalobservation--yet in the common opinion he was only the lady's knight;and his battle cry, _For Christ and Irene--Now!_ did but confirm theopinion. Time and time again, Mahommed beheld the doughty deeds of hisrival, heard his shout, saw the flash of his blade, sometimes near,sometimes afar, but always where the press was thickest. Strange was itthat of the two hosts he alone understood the other's inspiration? Hehad only to look into his own heart, and measure the force of thepassion there.
The horseman we see in charge of the removal of the galley-hulk thisnight 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 moatalmost level from side to side; and Justiniani has decided upon abarricade behind a new ditch. He will fill the hull with stones, anddefend 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 thethoroughfare, Constantine was at the altar in Sancta Sophia wherepreparations for mass were making; that is, the priests were changingtheir vestments, and the acolytes lighting the tall candles. TheEmperor sat in his chair of state just inside the brass railing,unattended except by his sword-bearer. His hands were on his knees, hishead bowed low. He was acknowledging a positive need of prayer. Theruin at the gate was palpable; but God reigned, and might be reservinghis power for a miraculous demonstration.
The preparation was about finished when, from the entrances of theChurch opposite the nave, a shuffling of many feet was heard. The lightin that quarter was weak, and some moments passed before the Emperorperceived a small procession advancing, and arose. The garbs were oforthodox 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 brethrenrecanting their unpatriotic resolutions? Had Heaven at last given theman understanding of the peril of the city? Had it brought to them arealization of the consequences if it fell under the yoke of theTurk?--That the whole East would then be lost to Christendom, with nodate for its return? A miracle!--and to God the glory! And without athought 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 tocustom.
"Brethren," he said, "this high altar has not been honored with yourpresence for many days. As Basileus, I bid you welcome back, and dareurge the welcome in God's holy name. Reason instructs me that yourreturn is for a purpose in some manner connected with the unhappycondition in which our city and empire, not to mention our religion,are plunged. Rise, one of you, and tell me to what your appearance atthis solemn hour is due."
A brother in gray, old and stooped, arose, and replied:
"Your Majesty, it cannot be that you are unacquainted with thetraditions of ancient origin concerning Constantinople and HagiaSophia; forgive us, however, if we fear you are not equally wellinformed of a more recent prophecy, creditably derived, we think, andpresume to speak of its terms. 'The infidels'--so the predictionruns--'will enter the city; but the instant they arrive at the columnof Constantine the Great, an angel will descend from Heaven, and put asword in the hands of a man of low estate seated at the foot of thecolumn, and order him to avenge the people of God with it. Overcome bysudden terror, the Turks will then take to flight, and be driven, notonly from the city, but to the frontier of Persia.' [Footnote: VonHammer.] This prediction relieves us, and all who believe in it, fromfear of Mahommed and his impious hordes, and we are grateful to Heavenfor the Divine intervention. But, Your Majesty, we think to beforgiven, if we desire the honor of the deliverance to be accounted tothe Holy Mother who has had our fathers in care for so many ages, andredeemed them miraculously in instances
within Your Majesty'sknowledge. Wherefore to our purpose.... We have been deputed by theBrotherhoods in Constantinople, united in devotion to the Most BlessedMadonna of Blacherne, to pray your permission to take the _Panagia_from the Church of the Virgin of Hodegetria, where it has been sincethe week of the Passover, and intrust it to the pious women of thecity. To-morrow at noon, Your Majesty consenting, they will assemble atthe Acropolis, and with the banner at their head, go in processionalong the walls and to every threatened gate, never doubting that atthe sight of it the Sultan and his unbaptized hordes will be reft ofbreath of body or take to flight.... This we pray of Your Majesty, thatthe Mother of God may in these degenerate days have back the honor andworship accorded her by the Emperors and Greeks of former times."
The old man ceased, and again fell upon his knees, while his associatedeputies rang the space with loud _Amens_.
It was well the light was dim, and the Emperor's face in shadow; it waswell the posture of the petitioners helped hide him from close study; afeeling mixed of pity, contempt, and unutterable indignation seizedhim, distorting his features, and shaking his whole person. Recantationand repentance!--Pledge of loyalty!--Offer of service at the gates andon the shattered walls!--Heaven help him! There was no word of apologyfor their errors and remissness--not a syllable in acknowledgment ofhis labors and services--and he about to pray God for strength to dieif 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 ofpersonal wrong. Ay, God help him!
"Bear with me a little," he said quietly, and passing the waitingpriests, went and knelt upon a step of the altar in position to lay hishead upon the upper step. Minutes passed thus. The deputies supposedhim praying for the success of the morrow's display; he was in factpraying for self-possession to answer them as his judgment of policydemanded.
At length he arose, and returned to them, and had calmness to say:
"Arise, brethren, and go in peace. The keeper of the Church willdeliver the sacred banner to the pious women. Only I insist upon acondition; if any of them are slain by the enemy, whom you and theyknow to have been bred in denial of womanly virtue, scorning their ownmothers and wives, and making merchandise of their daughters--if any ofthem be slain, I say, then you shall bear witness to those who sent youto 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 proceededwith the service.
Next day about ten o'clock in the morning there was a lull in thefighting at the Gate St. Romain. It were probably better to say theTurks for some reason rested from their work of bringing stones,tree-trunks, earth in hand carts, and timbers wrenched fromhouses--everything, in fact, which would serve to substantially fillthe moat in that quarter. Then upon the highest heap of what had beenthe 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 firingthe great gun."
Corti seemed not to hear, but deliberately planted the banderole, andblowing his trumpet three times, drew an arrow from the quiver at hisback. The gun was discharged, the bullet striking below him. When thedust cleared away, he replied with his trumpet. Then the Turks, keepingtheir distance, set up a cry. Most of the arrows shot at him fellshort. Seeing their indisposition to accept his challenge, he took seatupon a stone.
Not long then until a horseman rode out from the line of Janissariesstill guarding the eminence, and advanced down the left of the zigzaggalloping.
He was in chain mail glistening like gold, but wore flowing yellowtrousers, while his feet were buried in shoe-stirrups of the royalmetal. Looking over the small round black shield on his left arm, andholding a bow in the right hand, easy in the saddle, calm, confident,the champion slackened speed when within arrow flight, but commencedcaracoling immediately. A prolonged hoarse cry arose behind him. Of theChristians, 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, "_ForChrist 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 continuedsome minutes. In truth, the Count was not a little proud of the enemy'sperformance. If there was any weakness on his part, if his clutch ofthe notch at the instant of drawing the string was a trifle light, thefault was chargeable to a passing memory. This antagonist had been hispupil. How often in the school field, practising with blunted arrows,the two had joyously mimicked the encounter they were now holding. Atlast a bolt, clanging dully, dropped from the Sultan's shield, andobserving that it was black feathered, he swung from his seat to theground, and, shifting the horse between him and the foe, secured themissile, 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 thestone again; but no other antagonist showing himself, he at lengthdescended from the heap.
In his tent Mahommed examined the bolt; and finding the head was oflead, he cut it open, and extracted a scrip inscribed thus:
"To-day at noon a procession of women will appear on the walls. You mayknow it by the white banner a monk will bear, with a picture of theMadonna painted on it. _The Princess Irene marches next after thebanner._"
Mahommed asked for the time. It was half after ten o'clock. In a fewminutes the door was thronged by mounted officers, who, upon receivinga verbal message from him, sped away fast as they could go.
Thereupon the conflict was reopened. Indeed, it raged more fiercelythan at any previous time, the slingers and bowmen being pushed up tothe outer edge of the moat, and the machines of every kind plied overtheir heads. In his ignorance of the miracle expected of the Lady ofthe Banner, Mahommed had a hope of deterring the extraordinary march.
Nevertheless at the appointed hour, ten o'clock, the Church of theVirgin of Hodegetria was surrounded by nuns and monks; and presentlythe choir of Sancta Sophia issued from the house, executing a solemnchant; the Emperor followed in Basilean vestments; then the _Panagia_appeared.
At sight of the picture of the Very Holy Virgin painted front view, theeyes upraised, the hands in posture of prayer, the breast covered by aportrait of the Child, the heads encircled by the usual nimbus, themass 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 whitestaying ribbons in her hands; thereupon the monk appointed to carry itmoved after the choir, and the nuns took places. And there were tearsand sighs, but not of fear. The Mother of God would now assume thedeliverance of her beloved capital. As it had been to the Avars, andlater to the Russians under Askold and Dir, it would be now to Mahommedand his ferocious hordes--all Heaven would arm to punish them. Theywould not dare look at the picture twice, or if they did--well, thereare 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 thedefence, sharpened by a consciousness of the horrors in store for themif the city fell by assault, turned them to this. There is no relieffrom despair like faith.
From the little church, the devotees of the Very Holy Virgin took theirway on foot to the southeast, chanting as they went, and as they wenttheir number grew. Whence the accessions, none inquired.
They first reached a flight of steps leading to the banquette orfootway 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 andfury of combat, not to more than mention the evidences of theconflict--arrows, bolts, and stones in overflight and falling inremittent shower
s--would have dispersed them in ordinary mood; but theywere under protection--the Madonna was leading them--to be afraid wasto deny her saving grace. And then there was no shrinking on the partof 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 wouldthe manifestation take? Perhaps the doors and windows of Heaven wouldopen for a rain of fire--perhaps the fighting angels who keep thethrone of the Father would appear with swords of lightning--perhaps theMother and Son would show themselves. Had they not spared and convertedthe Khagan of the Avars? Whatever the form, it were not becoming tostand between the _Panagia_ and the enemy.
The holy man carrying the ensign was trustful as the women, and heascended the steps without faltering. Gathering the ribbons a littlemore firmly in her hands, the Princess kept her place. Up--up they wereborne--Mother and Son. Then the white banner was on the height--seenfirst by the Greeks keeping the wall, and in the places it discoveredthem, they fell upon their faces, next by the hordes. And they--oh, amiracle, a miracle truly!--they stood still. The bowman drawing hisbow, the slinger whirling his sling, the arquebusers taking aim matchesin hand, the strong men at the winches of the mangonels, allstopped--an arresting hand fell on them--they might have been changedto pillars of stone, so motionlessly did they stand and look at thewhite apparition. _Kyrie Eleison_, thrice repeated, then _ChristieEleison_, also thrice repeated, descended to them in the voices ofwomen, shrilled by excitement.
And the banner moved along the wall, not swiftly as if terror had to dowith its passing, but slowly, the image turned outwardly, the Princessnext 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; forbefore they were all ascended, the hordes at the edge of the moat, andthose at a distance--or rather such of them as death or wounds wouldpermit--were retreating to their entrenchment. Nor that merely--thearrest which had fallen at the Golden Gate extended along the front ofleaguerment from the sea to Blacherne, from Blacherne to the Acropolis.
So it happened that in advance of the display of the picture, withoutwaiting for the _Kyrie Eleison_ of the glad procession, the Turks tookto their defences; and through the city, from cellar, and vault, andcrypt, and darkened passage, the wonderful story flew; and there beingnone to gainsay or explain it, the miracle was accepted, and thestreets actually showed signs of a quick return to their old life. Eventhe very timid took heart, and went about thanking God and the _PanagiaBlachernitissa_.
And here and there the monks passed, sleek and blithe, and complacentlytwirling the Greek crosses at the whip-ends of their rosaries ofpolished horn buttons large as walnuts, saying:
"The danger is gone. See what it is to have faith! Had we kept ontrusting the _azymites_, whether Roman cardinal or apostate Emperor, amuezzin would ere long, perhaps to-morrow, be calling to prayer fromthe dome of Hagia Sophia. Blessed be the _Panagia!_ To-night let ussleep; and then--then we will dismiss the mercenaries with their Latintongues."
But there will be skeptics to the last hour of the last day; so is theworld made of kinds of men. Constantine and Justiniani did not disarmor lay aside their care. In unpatriotic distrust, they kept post behindthe ruins of St. Romain, and saw to it that the labor of planting thehull of the galley for a new wall, strengthened with another ditch ofdangerous depth and width, was continued.
And they were wise; for about four o'clock in the afternoon, there wasa blowing of horns on the parapet by the monster gun, and five heraldsin tunics stiff with gold embroidery, and trousers tocorrespond--splendid fellows, under turbans like balloons, each with atrumpet of shining silver--set out for the gate, preceding a statelyunarmed official.
The heralds halted now and then to execute a flourish. Constantine,recognizing an envoy, sent Justiniani and Count Corti to meet himbeyond the moat, and they returned with the Sultan's formal demand forthe surrender of the city. The message was threatening and imperious.The Emperor replied offering to pay tribute. Mahommed rejected theproposal, and announced an assault.
The retirement of the hordes at sight of the _Panagia_ on the wall wasby Mahommed's order. His wilfulness extended to his love--he did notintend the Princess Irene should suffer harm.
