Sultan’s Palace
Edirne (Adrianoupolis), Eastern Thrace
24th April 1453 A.D.
The roses were blooming. The fragrant air wafted through the open windows and intoxicated anyone who cared enough to dare and open his nostrils to the world around him.
The Sultan was walking through the enchanting gardens, singing to himself, saying little prayers and contemplating and praising himself on his achievements so far at his tender age. Then his mind travelled back to his gardens that he adored and was immensely proud of.
He paused, looked to the sky and spoke out aloud, “Babylon be damned. These will last for a thousand years and they will be moved to our new capital, soon, yes, very very soon”.
The location was Adrianoupolis or Edirne in Turkish, capital of the Ottoman Empire since 1326 A.D. when it was taken from the Byzantine (East Roman) Empire. Before that, Bursa was capital from 1299 until 1326 A.D. when Osman I moved it to Edirne.
The glorious sun scattered its rays around in a crazy dance from rose petal to petal. The dizzying beauty of the play of light briefly distracted the Sultan from his thoughts.
The Sultan was Mehmed II, and he was twenty-one years old, as young almost as Alexander the Great when he embarked on his great campaign of conquest of the Persian Empire. And like Alexander the Great before him, about one thousand eight hundred years later his aim was the conquest of another empire. He was a man of naked ambition, a man in a hurry who did not suffer fools gladly. In that he had a lot in common with Alexander who was his idol and with the Emperor who was now his prisoner.
The Sultan wanted Constantinople for himself. He wanted to crash that empire that stood alone against him, resisting his loving embrace, a fly in his eye, the city that was cherished as the Eastern civilisation’s cradle and shining light, treated by its keepers as its owners, as being theirs by divine right.
Why hadn’t he taken the city by now? That was because he needed something. Or was it that he was superstitious and believed that the city had to be taken on a particular date, the one that was ordained. He went along with the mullahs, because it suited him.
The Empire of Constantinople was built on the same premise. All wars were fought in the name of God. All was justified in the name of God. And when something went wrong that was punishment from God. God could do no wrong.
But then again the strong belief in God was what sustained the Empire in its glorious and dark days. It was an impetus for a flourishing culture for the arts and for glorious architecture.
The Sultan felt that his long campaign, his life’s work, was almost at an end. Soon it would be time to start consolidating his Empire and organising its administration.
The only thing marring his undoubtedly upcoming victory was the disappearance of the child, the heir and a future constant threat.
He was quite pleased with his favourite pet in its gilded cage. It was time for his new pet to have the pleasure of his visit and a snack.
He walked along the azalea path down to the summer hut. But hut it was not. It was a magnificent two-storey building with twenty-two rooms, that gave the impression that it was floating on the glorious gardens surrounding it, and it seemed as if it was about to fly away.
He went up the steps leading from the rose garden and entered the mosaic hall of the eleven fountains. He crossed the hall, went under an arch and entered a brightly lit room full of birdsong from the seventy-two nightingales set in cages around the room.
In the middle was a large gilded cage and inside was a man looking surprising clean and healthy and pensive, considering his confined condition. The Sultan treated his hostage with respect.
‘Ah. Inshalla may you live for a hundred years my dear.’
Konstantinos spat in his face through the rails. He would be no-one’s toy. He had to escape and get back to the City that needed him. Or could he possibly do more good by staying there inside the Sultan’s grasp, the lion’s den?
‘If you are going to kill me, do it quickly.’
‘Oh, no. That would be too easy a way out for you. I have plans for you. You are destined for my harem. And you will be a fine addition.’
‘I will rather die than be butchered to become a eunuch.’
‘You misunderstand me. That would be a waste for such a fine specimen of masculinity. No, you will be kept alive for my pleasure. I see many joyful nights ahead for us.’
‘I will kill you.’
‘You are hardly in a position to threaten me. You will be kept chained. Even like that you will be more than capable of giving me great pleasure, perhaps starting from tonight, in preparation for my final assault on your city. Our first night together will be my first gift to you, a great honour. My taking of your city will be my second. The third will be your joy of living in your city as my prisoner.’
And with those final words, the Sultan left.