by Dan Davis
“Get the men across first and then we will bring as many horses as we can.”
“No!” he snapped. “Horses take too long. The Turks will shoot us from the banks. We must away.”
“Just six horses then,” I said. “I will pay much more.”
He crossed his arms and stared at me. “No horses. Not one. You come now, come, come. Just men. Come.”
We crossed in five boats, a score of men to each one with our gear piled in amongst us as the sun came up. I waited until the last so I could be certain that all would escape and said farewell to my fine horse.
“Hurry,” Stephen said. “Leave the beast be.”
“What a fine fellow you are,” I said softly, holding his chestnut head in my hands and looking into one of his big, dark eyes. “You crossed mountains without complaint and you always fought well. You never hesitated and did everything I asked of you. I hope that your next master treats you well.”
“Perhaps we should kill them?” Stephen said, behind me. “So that the Turks cannot make use them against us.”
I turned and stared at him. “Get in the boat, Stephen.”
By the time the sun came up, we were out on the river being rowed rapidly downstream toward the city. The galleys were part of a small fleet that yet plied the River Sava, though the Turks had two hundred warships on the Danube. Their fleet nestled behind an island in the mouth of the tributary where it flowed into the massive Danube. Commanding them was a lord I knew named Osvát and he had me brought across to his ship to speak to him. The walls of the castle and city were across the channel to the east and the smoke from the cannons and the campfires filled the air, along with the smell of a summer siege. The cannons sounded continually since dawn, unseen on the opposite side of the city.
“I doubted it was true,” he said, taking my hand. “And yet here you are. How did you get by the Turks, Richard?”
“A handful of Serbians have guided us since we crossed the mountains and they helped us reach the river.”
“My men believed they were lying and even I thought they must have been mistaken. Is it true you brought thousands of Wallachians with you? Where are they?”
“I expect they went back to Wallachia. There is no way through for a sizeable force and if they had stayed, they would have been destroyed. It is just us.”
His face was grim. “Every man will make a difference. We are so low on soldiers. Did you make out their number from the east?”
“Perhaps ninety thousand. Rumelians on the Danube, Anatolians against the Sava there, and Janissaries and the Sultan’s camp in the centre. Light horse on the flanks and rear but it seemed as though he has brought mostly infantry this time, in addition to the Janissaries, of which there were perhaps ten thousand.”
He sighed. “That is what we have heard. Did you see the cannon?”
“If I had not seen them, I would not have believed it. We counted as many as three hundred, if you can believe it. And a great smoking workshop at the rear churning out smoke and casting even more cannon.”
His face was ashen. “I have been praying that the Serbians were exaggerating the number. Three hundred cannon. Even those mighty walls will not stand such an assault for long.”
“What of the Sultan’s fleet?” I asked. “There were hundreds of ships but they were upstream, beyond the mouth of the Sava in the Danube.”
“They are there to block reinforcements and supplies coming from Hungary to the city.” He shook his head. “Turks with two hundred war galleys. Can you believe it?”
“And Hunyadi?” I asked. “He is coming?”
Osvát hesitated before answering, turning to look northwest as if he might see that very thing. When he spoke, his voice was sharp. “He is coming. We have had word. Hunyadi is coming.”
“And yet you sound embittered, my lord.”
He leaned on the side rail and spoke without turning. “They have abandoned him. Our great lords have not come. Our kingdom is on the eve of a terrible disaster, for neither with our own resources nor with the aid of the mercenaries we have engaged can we bring enough forces to cope with the Turk. Our only hope is that God will listen to our prayers and move the hearts of our treacherous princes to bring their fleets and men. And yet so pressing is our peril that the delay of a day or even an hour may bring about such a defeat as shall make all Christendom weep for evermore.”
“What of the crusaders?” I asked. “Led by Cardinal John of Capistrano?”
“They came down the Danube to meet Hunyadi. Ten thousand at least, camped miles up there with the Regent.”
“Well, that is something to thank Christ for.”
“Common men with sticks? There are thousands of them but what can they do? Even if they get into the city, all they can do is fetch water and rebuild walls and so on but as for fighting the Turks…” he trailed off.
We watched the horizon. “How is it that you are still here? You must have over twenty boats here.”
“Forty,” he said, smiling. “I have forty boats, most small but some as you see. The others are hidden in bays around the island, or pulled up on shore and some are patrolling, keeping watch. Yes, forty boats, thanks to Christ.”
“But how has the Turkish fleet not assaulted you?”
“They do not wish to come under the guns on the walls. And I do not believe they know how many we are. We are hidden here behind the island. If they knew what a threat we were to their fleet, they would perhaps chance it.”
“Well, then, I thank you for sending the galleys to pick us up. It was a risk to you. But can you now transport us to the opposite bank? I would like to take my men along the south bank of the Danube, find Hunyadi’s army and join it for their assault on the enemy.”
He turned, surprised. “The Turkish fleet holds the river and they have men on the banks, also. You will not make it through by land or by river. Hunyadi cannot bring his army by river, due to the Turkish blockade upstream.”
“So he will march along the banks, to the Sava?” I said.
“And then I am to ferry them across. As many as I can before we are destroyed by the enemy fleet. I will get Hunyadi across at the least, if it is the last thing I do. With his leadership to inspire the men inside the walls, perhaps we will have a chance.”
“You can get him inside the city?”
Osvát pointed to a landing stage at the base of the wall, right at the river. Large enough for three galleys to moor against at once, there was a short stair up to a small postern gate. “I can take your men across now, if you like.”
There was no point in trapping my men further inside a doomed city. “No,” I said. “With your permission, my men will serve on your fleet until Hunyadi arrives.”
And if he does not, we shall have to flee.
“Glad to have you,” Osvát said. “But if the city falls first, I am to evacuate as many as I can to the far bank. I shall have to disembark your men there first. Perhaps you can help escort them to Hungary?” He crossed himself. “But God will not allow that. Hunyadi will come. By one way or by another, Hunyadi will come.” Osvát crossed himself again.
I hung my head. Through my own recklessness, I had brought my company, all of the Order of the White Dagger, into a trap from which there might be no escape.
***
For two days, my company was distributed amongst the fleet where we manned the boats and we all waited anxiously for word of Hunyadi’s army. As subtly as we could, my immortals consumed the blood of their servants without any of Osvát’s men noticing. If they did, they said nothing about it. Perhaps they had bigger concerns. The cannons never ceased their firing and it seemed certain that Belgrade would be assaulted on the far side of the city at any moment. Smoke from fires and cannons and guns drifted over the walls and across the waters and birds wheeled overhead. What they made of it all, I could only wonder.
“I have been thinking,” I muttered to Eva at the rail, leaning close to her. Like all of us, she stayed in her armour al
l day and she stank just as much as I did.
“Then times are desperate indeed,” she quipped, looking across the Sava to the northwest, where we hoped every hour to see sign of Hunyadi’s army.
“I have been thinking about your suggestion to sneak into William’s tent at night and there assassinate him.”
“Richard, I suggested no such thing. That was your notion, not mine.”
“Well, whoever suggested it, I think the time has come to—”
“Wait,” she said, grabbing my vambrace. “Christian riders.”
From the opposite bank of the Sava, those riders pushed through the long grass and reeds to the water’s edge and signalled to our fleet. Boats were sent to bring the men across to the island and finally to Osvát’s boat. I made certain I was present when the message was delivered.
“My lord comes with every boat and every man that he can find,” the messenger said, a fair Hungarian youth with ruddy cheeks and fluff on his cheeks. “When he attacks the Turkish fleet, he asks that you bring your fleet to attack their rear.”
“Your lord?” I said. “Hunyadi?”
The messenger bowed. “Indeed, sir.”
I looked at Osvát, who seemed astonished. “Hunyadi is going to attack the Turkish war galleys? By Almighty Christ. How many boats does he have?”
“Almost two hundred, my lord.”
Excited, I could not hold my tongue. “That is as many as the Turks have, is it not?”
Osvát nodded but he turned to the messenger. “What manner of boats are these? They cannot all be warships?”
The young man’s cheeks coloured, as if he were personally embarrassed. “Crafts of many kinds, my lord. Transports, galleys…” he trailed off. “Fishing vessels. Many kinds.”
“Dear Christ,” Osvát said, crossing himself.
“And the army is on the ships and we will fight our way through but there is also the army of the crusaders,” the messenger said. “Lead by Cardinal John of Capistrano. They come in a great body of many thousands, keeping pace with the fleet as best they can.”
“Many thousands of peasants with sharp sticks?” I said. “Just what we need.”
The young man was offended by my cynicism. “They have taken the cross to fight for Christ, sir, and they are filled with His strength.”
I bowed to the fellow. “I am sure they are.”
Osvát nodded to himself, looking out at the waters. “Are you and your men to return?”
He shook his fair locks. “We barely made it through the Turkish patrols on our way here. Besides, there is no time. He comes now, my lord. We are to join you for the battle, sirs, if you will honour us so.”
“No time? When will he assault the Turkish fleet?”
“Today, my lord.”
Osvát, to his credit, smiled and took the young fellow’s hand for a moment before turning to issue a stream of commands. Boats skirted off in all directions, taking messengers to the city and to other vessels in the fleet.
“I will drop you on the far shore, if you wish it,” Osvát said. “So that you can go out to meet the force by land. Or I could send you into the city, perhaps, if there is time. But I would rather have your men fighting in my ships.”
More than anything, I hated boats. I hated the sea most of all, with its impossibly high waves and the motion of the boats in it. But the Danube was a river like few others. As wide as a lake and endlessly long. Fighting on boats was as brutal and bloody a battle as one might find. Then again, I had done it before.
“Certainly, we shall join you.”
Osvát stepped closer and lowered his voice. “We shall fight with all we are worth but it is likely that we shall fail to destroy their fleet and we will have to withdraw. But I mean to make a hole big enough, for long enough, for as much of Hunyadi’s army as is possible to reach the city. If we can draw the Turks close to the city, perhaps they will break off and flee. Do you see?”
Damn. I wished I had thought about offering my services before knowing the plan.
“Very well. We shall do what we need to. I would fight with my closest men beside me, if you will send me to their galley.”
“We will bring them here, no more than a dozen, and you will fight with me.” Osvát grinned. “I have seen you and your men in battle.”
It was not midday when the fighting started. Hunyadi’s makeshift fleet came down the Danube flying flags and banging drums.
The Turkish fleet manoeuvred to face them and we edged out through the channel into the Danube behind them, trapping the enemy’s war galleys between Hunyadi’s larger, makeshift fleet and our smaller, well-equipped one of forty ships crewed with Hungarians and Serbians.
“You look unhappy, Serban,” I said to him as we approached the enemy.
“I do not swim,” he said.
“Then do not fall in,” I said, and clapped him hard on the back. “Have you fought on ships before?”
“No,” he admitted, shielding his eyes from the sun and pulling his hat down.
“The most important thing above all else is to keep your feet. Stay away from the sides as much as you can,” I advised. “Remember that boats move, sometimes drastically, even when they seem stable. And the decks are slippery, especially when the blood starts to be spilled. If you fall, roll away and keep moving as best you can. We will stay together, all of us, and fight as one.”
Rob elbowed him. “Stick with me, Serban. I’ll keep an eye out for you.”
Serban glanced at Rob’s stump and attempted to smile in thanks.
Our rowers heaved for all they were worth and the ships with sails made the most of the diagonal crosswinds. Still, it took us a long time to join the battle that had by that time already been raging for hours. As we approached the sound of guns firing grew and the shouting of the crews and soldiers filled the air. Arrows streamed in all directions and small cannons on the boats fired at each other.
It was like heading into hell.
Hunyadi’s fleet may have been thrown together but there were some magnificent vessels that were a part of it. His flagship was the biggest of all the ships on the river by far and it poured fire from hand-gunners into the enemies on all sides. His ships were filled to the rails with archers, hand-gunners, and soldiers armed with pikes and halberds and axes but it was not his entire force.
On the southern bank were ten thousand men or more in a great swirling mass. I recognised banners from Transylvania that I knew belonged to horsemen. But most of the men were the peasant crusaders I had heard about, armed with slings, hunting bows, threshers and probably sharpened hoes and pointed sticks. They massed on the banks and shot arrows and slung stones and shot at the Turkish ships that came close to shore.
“The Turks are outmatched!” Osvát shouted in my ear as we approached, grasping my arm and shaking me. He turned to his crew. “Signal the fleet to spread out. We can trap them all. Kill them all. Let none escape! Christ be praised, the Turks are outmatched.”
Their ships were pushed aside by ours and many were forced hard against the banks. There, the crusaders swarmed them and slaughtered them. One was swiftly set on fire and it went up like a demonic candle, burning hot and bright.
Osvát steered our ship into another galley that attempted to flee and crashed into it hard enough to throw us onto our knees. The Turkish galley was stuck with arrows and the side was covered in charred timber and soot where a fire had been put out. Wounded men lay in the bottom of it already but when our hulls ground against each other, they seemed keen enough for a fight.
“With me!” I shouted and led my companions across and down into their galley. My men made short work of the enemy and soon we got back on board our own vessel and looked for more prey.
Osvát cheered us and even Serban had a smile on his face.
We captured or destroyed at least a hundred and fifty of their fleet. By the end, they were burning their own immobilised ships before abandoning them so they would not fall into our hands. The remaining han
dful fled downstream, being peppered with shots from the walls and towers of Belgrade as they went.
The battle lasted many hours and the men were exhausted but were buoyed by the elation that victory brings. The way was clear now for Hunyadi’s army to be ferried into the city by the docks on the Sava side, protected from the Sultan’s army by the walls and mass of the city itself.
It was a relief of sorts to see my company through the postern gate and finally into Belgrade, where we had hoped to be for so many days.
And yet even while the river battle raged, the enemy cannon had not ceased their bombardment and we knew we would soon have another fight on our hands.
This time it would be a fight to save the city itself.
***
A week after the river battle and the outer walls of Belgrade were crumbling.
Our cannons would fire out at the Turks as often as they could, hoping to destroy an enemy cannon but often as not hitting Turkish earthworks or ploughing a useless furrow into the mud. There had been a giddy moment of joy days earlier when a cannon on the city’s easternmost tower shot and killed the Beylerbey of Rumelia, striking him down, killing him, his horse and at least two of his servants. The damned fool had been inspecting the front lines of the siege within range of our guns, in broad daylight, flying his banners and gesticulating toward us as he no doubt propounded to his men on how the city would fall. It was a lucky shot, to be sure, but many in the city took it to be a sign from God and who was I to argue with that?
We certainly needed the victory, no matter how small it was. The city was as well prepared for a siege as it was possible to be. Indeed, it had been preparing for over a decade, for it was no secret that it would be so assaulted, and there were supplies enough to last months, even with twenty thousand extra mouths to feed with the arrival of Hunyadi’s army and the crusaders. And with the river cleared, it meant more supplies could be brought in at will along with reinforcements. We knew we could therefore survive a siege indefinitely.
And the Sultan would know it, too.
The only way he could take Belgrade now was by direct assault and so we waited, day after day, night after night. Waited for the sudden assault by tens of thousands of veteran infantry on the outer walls of the city. The repairs on both the outer and inner curtain walls went on ceaselessly. Every breach was filled with rubble and shorn up by enormous timbers. When these were blown apart, they were built back up again, stronger than before.
