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“Maybe they were able to sneak in the same way our boats slipped out past them?”
“That worked because of the chaos. But there is no chaos on our side of the chain. No one sleeps. Watch is kept at all hours. There must be something else going on.”
Radu trudged after Cyprian. He could not find the energy in himself to run anymore. He had spent half the night cutting down hooks that the Ottomans threw up to try to dislodge the barrels of earth that protected the defenders. It was wearying work. Even arrows singing past his ears barely registered after a few hours on barrel duty. But at least all he had done was remove hooks. He had not had to kill any of his brothers last night, which made it better than most.
His mind was on endless barrels of earth as they climbed to the top of the seawall and looked over.
“God’s wounds,” Radu whispered. Nothing had prepared him for this. The Ottomans were, in fact, inside the horn. And just as the boy had said, they were sailing their ships over land.
Three medium-sized galleys floated in the water, their crews laughing and waving their oars. Coming down a road of greased logs on the hill behind the horn, another galley slowly made its way toward the sea. The men aboard rowed their oars through the air, perfectly in sync. Oxen pulled from the front, and hundreds of men held ropes to control the descent. Cresting the hill behind the galley was yet another boat.
A striped tent had been set up overlooking the boats’ progress. Radu could not see clearly from this distance, but he suspected it shaded Mehmed himself. Surrounding the tent, a Janissary band played music more suited to a party than to war. The bright brass notes drifted across the horn to Radu and Cyprian.
As the lower galley slid off the bank and into the sea, a cheer went up among the Ottomans.
“Why do our ships do nothing?” Cyprian asked. Radu pointed to a row of cannons set up along the shore, aimed at the chain where Constantine’s fleet floated, useless. A few ships were edging closer, apparently debating whether or not to risk the cannon fire.
Without warning, a huge stone flew over the top of the city of Galata and came splashing into the water between the Byzantine fleet and the Ottoman galleys. It was so close to the nearest merchant ships that they bobbed in the waves from the impact.
Mehmed had also solved the problem of how to fire from Galata. He could not, under treaty, place cannons in the city. And so he had engaged the trebuchets from bygone years. They sat behind the city and flung rocks over into the water.
A crash and a plume of dust from the middle of Galata proved that the trebuchet aim was not perfect. Or perhaps it was deliberate, a warning to the people not to interfere. Radu was astonished at Mehmed’s brilliance.
In the meantime, yet another galley had slipped into the water, with two more on the way.
Cyprian did not look at Radu. “This plan had to be in the works for months. With all the supplies they would need, the logistics of it all…Did you know?”
Radu’s chest was heavy with the weight of failure. Not only had he failed Mehmed with the navy, Mehmed had anticipated the failure. He had made plans without Radu, plans to circumvent everything. How could Radu hope to offer such a man anything?
“I had no idea.” Radu shook his head, the music from across the horn mocking him. “I fear there may be even more plans I was not privy to.”
Cyprian put a gentle hand on his shoulder. “If Mehmed suspected a hair of his beard knew his secrets, he would pluck it out and burn it.”
Radu refused the comfort. “I cannot help anymore.”
He could not help anyone.
Nazira picked out worms from the little grain they had left. “Do you suppose we could eat these?”
Radu grimaced. “If it came to it, we could. But if the siege lasts that long, Mehmed will have already lost. It is taking too long as it is.”
“I wish your escapade with ruining the food stores had been less successful.” Nazira gave him a wry smile.
“There is still food enough in Galata, though no one has the money to buy it. My sabotage has not ended the siege, only made it more miserable.” Radu leaned forward, resting his head on the table. He was due back at the wall in the evening. His last few shifts had been uneventful. Lonely, too. And Cyprian was gone more often than not by the time Radu returned home.
Evidently, Nazira was thinking of their host as well. “We could try to get more information from Cyprian.”
Radu did not lift his head. He would not go there. Not yet. “Too dangerous.”
Nazira sounded relieved. “I am glad you agree. Also, it feels…wrong. To use Cyprian any more than we already are.”
“He is a good person, and I— Sometimes I cannot bear to even look at him, knowing what we are doing here. I cannot bear to look at any of them. Constantine is a good man, too. Giustiniani. All of them. The longer we are here, the harder it is to remember why it was so important that we take the city. I have fought alongside them, I have bled with them, I have stood shoulder to shoulder as we killed my Muslim brothers. How—” Radu’s voice cracked, breaking on the last question. “How do we go on?” he whispered.
Nazira put a hand on his cheek. “You should ask to join Orhan and his men. They are kept away from the walls. You would not have to kill anyone. You should never have been put in that position. Your heart is too big for this work, Radu.” She leaned in and kissed his forehead. “I cannot imagine what you have been forced to see and do. No one could have clear eyes in the midst of that.”
“What does it matter? I have done no good.”
“You have. And we may yet do more. The kindest thing we can do for both sides is hasten the end of this siege. The longer it carries on, the worse it will be for everyone.” Nazira stood, pulling on her cloak. Though the days were warming up, the evenings were still cold. “I am going to meet with Helen. She complains that the last three days Coco has been even more on edge than usual, snapping at her and pacing incessantly.”
