Constantinople
28th May 1453 A.D.
(Eve of the Fall)
The huge walls loomed on the horizon like a dark cloud descending to earth. The city was Constantinople, the capital of an empire that was built in the name of God and was once more in its history defended in the name of God.
It was pretentious to even call what was left an empire when only the city remained. However, at this time God would not be knocking on this particular door. The writing was on the wall.
Here was I, Michael Symitzis, riding at top speed to the, by all accounts, doomed city that had decided to make a final stand against the Ottomans led by the fearsome and ruthless Sultan Mehmed II and, if not defy, then delay fate.
The city was asleep. I could not shake the feeling that I was being watched by thousands of eyes, and maybe I was, but was deemed too insignificant to be stopped. The city was on heightened alert, sniffing the enemy’s next assault on the walls.
The Ottoman had surrounded the city and blocked all traffic to and fro. They were now lying in wait, and on a signal from their exulted leader, ready to pounce. The Ottoman was spread along the entire length of the city’s West and only landbound side, the Great Theodosian Walls, first built by the Emperor of the same name in the fourth century A.D. and reinforced and rebuilt over the centuries.
On the city’s sea-bound North side was the Golden Horn, one of the world’s greatest natural harbours, and the city’s jewel and gateway to the world’s trade, but recently closed to all sea-bound traffic by a great chain or ‘boom’ across its gaping mouth. On the city’s water-bound East and South sides, the Bosphorus and the Sea of Marmara respectively had already changed their colours to those dictated by the Ottoman fleet. The city was surrounded on all sides.
The city’s legendary defences would normally have inspired terror in the hearts and minds of any enemy imprudently considering an opportunistic attack. The city was considered impregnable and countless attempts over the last one thousand years from Arabs to Seltzouk Turks to scale its walls and capture its riches had failed.
The fall of 1204 A.D. to the crusaders was a blip, an aberration, and not the result of a proper siege. The crusader ships bound for the ‘Holy Land’ would not even had entered the waters of the Aegean let alone approach the city had it not been for the invitation and warm welcome into the city as a result of rivalry for the throne. Easy spoils were impossible to resist.
On my way to the city I had come across masses of people fleeing the besieged city and stopped to talk to them. It was like pulling teeth. It was like trying to talk to the walking dead, sporting the fashionable look of the lost souls of Hades. It was eight weeks now since the siege had begun.
The Ottoman blockade of Constantinople now in place had one consequence, beneficial in one sense, sad in another. It stopped any more people from leaving the city. There were now more defenders, but that meant that there were also more people at risk of losing their lives not just defending the city, but in the aftermath of its fall.
The mass exodus from Constantinople had begun months ago as rumours were swirling that the Ottoman army was approaching the city on all sides. Many were in no mood to wait and get caught naked in the middle of that particular carnage.
A caravan of people with their few precious belongings stretched for miles from the city and heading west, as far away from the advancing Ottoman armies and the centre of the Ottoman Empire as they could.
It was a sad spectacle. Nobody spoke. Nobody looked around. All forlorn faces stared dead ahead with the fear of death in their eyes. Their eyes betrayed the fact that they had witnessed death too. Luck was with them as it had not rained for weeks and progress was easier through the rough terrain.
The advancing Ottoman armies simply watched, indifferent to this sad human column. It was the Sultan’s orders that dictated that they should be left undisturbed. Nobody was to be harmed or looted; mostly that was because there was nothing worth taking there.
The city was the prize. No distractions would let them deviate from this single purpose. And there was another reason. The more people left the city the fewer would be there to defend it. Of course, depending on what those people were carrying, the less would be the loot when the city fell. So the Ottomans would stop and check people’s belongings, but would otherwise leave them in peace with no harm or physical violence befalling them.
The Ottoman’s indifference to this mass of rudderless human specimens was not enough incentive to those still in the city to flout their sense of duty and their posts and flee. The exodus declined to a mere trickle and then it abruptly ceased.
The air was heavy and it was difficult to breathe. But then my nostrils protested and flared up; the culprit was a putrid smell hanging in the air, the stink of rotting flesh, the leftovers of the most recent battle.
The two sides had engaged and had drawn blood. The city still seemed from afar to have remained untouched. The Ottomans could taste blood and were taking small bites and retreating, wearing down the city’s defenders to break their spirit.
Inside the city they knew their days were numbered. They resorted to prayer to a God that, surely, would not desert them in their dourest hour. But even as they prayed and hoped for salvation, they felt the flesh falling away, until for some only their bones were left and unable to stand on their own two feet and eaten away by hunger, they came crashing down, sinking into the sand and becoming one with their beloved soil.
Maybe those were the lucky ones, the ones not to have to suffer the ravishing and humiliation of the rape of the city or their imprisonment away from their homes. The city’s defenders felt as if a bird of prey kept lunging at them, biting chunks off them. They were waiting for the final assault that would spell their doom, the end of one thousand years of glorious history and the dawn of a new chapter for the East.
God, today though, was nowhere to be found. God forgot or decided not to show up for work on this inauspicious day and to take a long-overdue and well-deserved rest from the exciting entertainment of watching people’s squabbles. And yet the defenders prayed. They prayed that God did not crave their company just yet.
I wiped my forehead with the back of my sleeve. The humid air was weighing me down. I felt as if I was going to melt; clothes, flesh, bones, horse and all, and seep into the ground. My horse was suffering too. I could feel it through her fur that hang limp from her glorious form. But she would not fail me. She never had before.
I had a mission to complete. History would not be forgiving if I failed. I made a final push towards the city careful to avoid the Ottoman blockade. The darkness offered me good cover. It had been a long time since I last saw the Emperor and I wondered how I would be received, in view of past conflicts between the Order of Vlacharnae and successive Imperial dynasties. I ached for a warm welcome.
The horse sensed my urgency and accelerated at my command with no further prodding. I saw the Western Gates growing ever closer and I was blinded at times by the reflection of the moonlight on the metal that gleamed and led my way like a beacon. Upon reaching the towering Western Gate complex, I suddenly felt tiny and overwhelmed by the walls rising high above me.
I looked up for signs of the guards on the posts above the gates. Nothing, not even the normal gleam of light emanating from a torch. I had to gain entry to the city. I called for the gates to open. But the gates remained steadfastly closed and the city shut to me; so close and yet so far out of reach. I did not want to camp outside for the night and wait till morning. I had to find another way in.
Then I suddenly caught a glimpse of a faint light coming from some point near the walls at ground level. Was it friend or foe? I decided to take a chance. I reluctantly went closer. I nearly missed the shadow silhouetted against the walls and almost merging with the shadows around it.
But then I smelled its foul breath and its radiating warmth hit me like a slap even in the heat around me. I could just about make out the silhouette of a person. I wondered whether it was an illusion, a play of the shadows thrown by the moonlight. I blinked, in case my eyes were deceiving me.
Yet there it was; a hooded figure was standing in front of me. I tried to say something. I thought I said something, but as my ears registered nothing, I soon realised that it was all in my head and any words I wanted to say died on my lips, my vocal chords shuddering to a grinding halt; or had the hooded figure magically removed them?
And then, as suddenly as I saw the figure, a voice came out of that dark blotch against the sky blocking my way.
‘My name is Ioannis. We have been expecting you. His Majesty has sent me to escort you to the palace. Please, follow me.’
I could not see his face and did not know whether I could trust him, but his voice had authority and, involuntarily, I instantly became his slave and would follow him anywhere like a dutiful lamb. I was tired from my long journey and following this stranger seemed an attractive and easy option to my predicament of how to enter the city.
Ioannis touched a stone on the walls and a doorway appeared. Beyond it opened a pitch-black chasm. Ioannis lit a torch and went in. He was immediately swallowed by the darkness. I hesitated. Then I saw Ioannis stop in his tracks and half-turn to me.
I obeyed his call. I passed under the doorway and into the eerie space beyond. The torch was throwing sparks of light and shadows and half-illuminated the space, and once my eyes adjusted to the dim light, I saw a tunnel leading away from me and disappearing into the far darkness with no hint as to its length.
I knew this tunnel was only one of many. The builders of this city’s defences must have really provided for every eventuality. I wished I had the time to explore this great city’s closely-guarded secrets. Secrets that had prevented its fall for more than a thousand years. Secrets that a selected few kept close to their chest. And, no doubt, there must have been other secrets that had been forgotten over time.
The long tunnel led into the city’s grandest underground reservoir, the Basilica Cistern. Walking through the forest of giant columns I felt I was an intruder to the home of hundreds of forms frozen in time and stone. At the far end of that huge space, we came face to face with a wall and no obvious way out.
Ioannis then pointed to stairs I had not noticed before that rose up and I followed. We soon came to a door which Ioannis quickly unlocked with a key he had hidden in an inside pocket.
We emerged in a large square. After the coolness of the Basilica Cistern, the heat that hit us even at this hour knocked the wind out of my lungs and I had to take a second to steady myself and get accustomed to the stifling air of the city before we could proceed.
Of course during my recovery time, I could sense, in the darkness, my guide’s amusement at my inability to adjust straight away. It did not take long, however, for my guide’s amusement to turn to impatience and I could smell his annoyance and his silent instruction to rush me along.
In front of us, the magnificent, imposing and forbidding mass of Ayia Sofia rose to the sky topped with its huge dome that seemed to float in mid-air. The square was empty, implying that the city had already been deserted. Yet the air was not devoid of signs of human existence. I could smell the foul breath of an overcrowded besieged cauldron slowly simmering with the faint perfume of near eruption.
A distant chant reached me and I turned towards the great church. Faint lights blinked through the many windows. I could see in my mind’s eye a full to bursting church pulsating with the desperate prayer of numerous souls carried upwards and threatening to smash the giant dome to smithereens in their despair to reach the heavens and God’s seat of power.
If you looked closer, you could see the sweaty vapour rising from every pore of the steaming home of God on earth. If the faithful did not exit soon they would be cooked alive.
I wondered why we had made such a long detour from the Western Walls and the Vlachernae Quarter of the city where the Palace of Vlachernae stood. I had no time to waste. I had to meet with the Emperor. Where was this man taking me? Was I to meet a fate of death by traitors, by my sworn enemies? Was I being led to a trap? Could I trust this stranger who purported to have been sent by the Emperor to lead me to him?
My guide had not uttered a single word. I dared not question him, as the slightest murmur could carry far in the stillness of the night. There was danger lurking in the shadows and I saw my guide’s eyes dart in all directions, searching for ghosts, alert at the tiniest movement and sound.
Though suspicious, I kept my own counsel and resisted the impulse to break the silence. My questions stayed on my lips and, as I sensed my companion’s pace progressively quickening, I increased my pace to keep up.
We walked briskly across the faintly-lit square and through the deceptively deserted city, turning through twisting lanes and alleys that made me feel disorientated and queasy.
I could not say how long we had travelled, but we seemed to be going around in circles and when Ioannis stopped we were almost back where we started, but on the far side of the outer perimeter of the courtyard of Ayia Sophia on the point where it touched the forbidding dark wilderness of what used to be the acropolis of the ancient Megareian colony of Byzantium.
Was my guide trying to shake off possible stalkers? Ioannis looked around and then in quick long strides entered the wilderness and suddenly disappeared through a thickset of brambles.
For a brief moment I was not sure whether I actually saw him, whether he had really existed or whether he was just an apparition, a figment of my imagination, my mind twisted by the stale air floating above the city and pressing down with its weight stifling all beneath it. I could hear nothing and I stood still and listened for any sound. I waited, but when he did not come out, I decided to take the plunge into the unknown.
The adventure was a short one and within seconds, I emerged into a cave. All around the cave was lit by what seemed like hundreds of torches. There was rich decoration on the walls and the ceiling was covered in frescoes depicting scenes from ancient Greece.
Ioannis was standing in front of an icon of Panagia or the Virgin Mary, silently praying. He suddenly turned and let the hood drop back to reveal his face. The cloak fell from his shoulders to the ground. I froze. I knew I had to kneel, but my legs would not obey me. Ioannis patiently waited. I recovered my speech.
‘Your Majesty, I am at your service.’ I paused, not yet trusting myself to continue.
There was the distant sound of running water and birdsong to break the silence.
‘It’s good to see you, Michael. Forgive me for the charade, but these are dangerous times and I suspect the Sultan has many ears amongst us. The odds are increasing against us with every passing day. It is becoming more difficult to inspire the people to defend their city. They seem to have grown more devout and helpless. They’ve put their lives in God’s and the Virgin Mary’s hands and believe that there will be a miracle. The Ottoman’s knock on our door is becoming louder and louder and instead of spurring them into action it paralyses them and has turned the brains of most of them to mash. I am running out of ideas.’
The Emperor seemed friendly enough. It seemed that my mission would be easier than expected. I truly believed at that moment that the Emperor had already come around to our way of thinking and no longer saw the Order as a threat.
It seemed such a relief, after centuries of suspicion and intrigue, with the members of the Order constantly looking behind their backs for the Imperial spies, at the same time as they were alert for any threat from the Ruinands against themselves and the against the Imperial family.
And yet Constantinople was important to them. Its fate was the key to the future. They had to watch for the dynasty; which was a thankless task as every dynasty fought them and tried to trip them at every turn. Successive emperors had been too blinkered to see that the Order was by no means not only not a threat but also a staunch ally.
And what those emperors chose to be blind to was the fact that, had it wished, the Order could easily have taken the reins of power in Constantinople. However, its mission was clear and its members were good and decent people of exceptional integrity and fortitude.
It was a sad show of the intricacies and machinations of the exulted and privileged courtiers surrounding the Imperial family, not just the members of the Imperial family itself, a clear and unfortunate case of paranoia plague, accelerating the empire’s suicidal collision with history.
The clock was ticking the final countdown to the city’s midnight hour of its last day.
Michael had no time to waste. He came straight to the point. ‘Your Majesty, I’ve come for the child.’
‘The child is gone.’
‘What do you mean ‘gone’?’
‘Taken, kidnapped, abducted, dead or alive. Who knows?’
I could not believe my ears. How could he sound so flippant? Where was the desperation, the panic for the loss of his flesh and blood and heir?
‘Please tell me what happened.’
‘The child disappeared from its crib on the 4 ^th May.’
‘And why have we not heard of this? Why have you not asked for our help? How could you have kept us in the dark about this when all we’ve ever done was to fight for this family? In spite of your family’s hatred of us, you should not have allowed it to cloud your judgement. Forgive my impertinence, but you are being flippant about this matter. You have forgotten the most important thing here. The empire is almost gone and the city too, but the child is the hope for the future; that we may still have time to save. But we need to act quickly, even if I fear we may already be too late, however much I hope that that is not the case.’
I could not understand it. If he did not care for his child, which in itself was strange, could he not want to ensure the continuation of his bloodline and its right to the legacy of an empire under a different form or re-establishment?
The doubts about the success of my mission and the Emperor’s ear and allegiance had fleeted back to gnaw at my heart. The future was not secure, as I had hoped it would be.
I, the appointed conduit of the Order to help an Emperor, if not to save the city then under a veil of secrecy so as to avoid draining the defenders’ moral, to complete the final preparations to save what we could, at the same time as defending the city to the end, suddenly realised that my remit had just expanded; I had to instil some sense into whom I had found to my surprise to be an increasingly deluded Emperor, a person transformed and unrecognisable.
I knew I was close to failing. I had to try to turn the situation around. I had to find out more about this disappearance of the child and heir.
As I was ready to resume my questioning, the Emperor beat me to it. ‘You are only a boy. What do you know of the life of an Emperor?’
It seemed as if the Emperor was deliberately trying to rub me the wrong way for whatever reason, perhaps for his amusement. ‘Your Majesty, forgive me, but there does not seem to have been made much progress in the transfer of the treasures of the city to the chosen secure locations. We cannot risk leaving all of these behind; these manuscripts, these valuable works of art, many much older than the City itself have been safeguarded for over a thousand years. We cannot let the efforts of our predecessors so unceremoniously and recklessly go to waste. We have to think of the future generations and their heritage, their and the world’s rightful legacy.’
‘What use are they to us now? Maybe the Ottomans will make good use of them now to go with their new acquisition. They belong with the city after all. How can they be wrestled away from their home and be denied their rightful place?’
I could not believe I was hearing this nonsense coming out of the Emperor’s mouth. I could not believe I was witnessing this defeatist attitude.
My uneasiness was growing. ‘But, if we leave them here they will be looted, melted and destroyed. You know what will happen to the city once it falls. Chaos will ensue and even the Sultan will not be able to stop it for at least a few days.’
‘Michael, since the crusader looting in 1204 not much has been left to whisk away. The last two hundred and fifty years have not left behind enough to be proud of. Compare with all that was lost back then
… well… it does not matter anymore.’
A sense of foreboding was spreading its tentacles across my skin like a plague.
‘Your Majesty, the legacy of the last two hundred and fifty years is itself at least worth saving.’
There was a brief silence as both men dwelt on the critical events that shaped the history of this city and empire.
The Emperor was the first to speak, and, in so doing, destroying our brief reverie in a puff of smoke; a dream ruined.
‘I have been thinking of seeking refuge in Venice. The Doge has offered his help. Of course I shall be taking my family with me and a lot of the city’s treasures.’
‘But your Majesty, Venice is the Empire’s sworn enemy. It was the Venetians, after all, that, opportunistic as they were, used the invitation for involvement in the Empire’s succession matters in 1204 to take the city, loot it and eliminate their most fearsome competitor for the trading routes of the Mediterranean and the Middle East. And being traders through and through, with liquid money running in their veins for blood, the Venetians would only be an ally for profit, nothing else. Once in Venice you will be under the Doge’s control and effectively a prisoner. And as for any treasures taken there, you will never see them again.’
‘I have received assurances and there is no other way. We are surrounded. There is no hope. The Venetian navy will help us to get out of the city.’
‘If you and your family had acted earlier instead of being consumed by your petty squabbles and rivalries, we would not be in this desperate situation we find ourselves now.’
I knew I was really pushing the boundaries of the Emperor’s reverence and patience and was aware that I could be condemned in an instant for being offensive to the face of the Emperor, but it had to be said. There was too much at stake.
I had a very strong hunch that all was not right with the Emperor. My suspicions were growing. This smelled very very wrong. I had to get further reaction to confirm my suspicions. I decided to reveal the other main reason that had brought me there.
‘Your Majesty, there is something else that brings me here. We’re on the trail of one of the two missing Likureian icons. Word has reached us that the icon is being touted around for sale. We are trying to pinpoint its exact location. I would like to pay a visit to the Royal Workshops and speak to the craftsmen. I need information about the icon’s construction to verify its authenticity once it comes into our possession. I would be grateful if you could arrange this visit for later today.’
The Emperor knew that the icon had been taken together with the child twenty-five days earlier, but decided against revealing the fact and playing along with the charade.
The Emperor’s brows rose and his eyes opened wide for the briefest moment, but I saw them. I saw the greed, the ‘ducat’ signs. I saw that I had piqued his interest and had his full attention.
‘That can be easily arranged. Now, tell me more about the information you already have. How did you find out? And where is it? Not in the city, surely?’
‘Yes, we believe the icon may already be here in the city’.
The Emperor’s eyes were changing colours like a chameleon.
‘Here? How can you be sure of that? My dear Michael, we must go and find it at once.’
‘Your Majesty, before I go on… let me say something. Recovering those icons would not be enough. There is something that may be of interest to you. Wouldn’t you want to be remembered as the hero who liberated our people from the catastrophes that befell them throughout at least part of their history? You yourself have always said that “we have an obligation to our people, not only in the present, but for our future generations”, have you not? Well, this is your chance. You have to stay and fight. Be our people’s hero. Let history judge you on that. There is no greater honour, no greater glory. Think of your place in history, your legacy. If you flee now, you will go down as a coward.’
‘Michael, the icon… where is it?’
‘The icon when not properly handled causes unfortunate consequences and even mayhem. We have information of unexplained phenomena occurring in quick succession, which seems too much like the icon’s signature to be a coincidence. We have narrowed the relevant area to…’
There was a commotion outside. Have we been discovered? Or has something serious occurred and the Emperor’s presence was called for? The Emperor looked nervous and worried.
‘Only one person knew I would be here with instructions to interrupt me in an emergency.’
Valerian, the Emperor’s most trusted adviser appeared as if out of thin air.
Your Majesty, the Ottoman army is on the move.’
‘My dear Michael, there is no future here for us anymore, as you so eloquently said so yourself, but we do have time to make a life elsewhere and salvage all that we can. I suggest you be on your way now.’ Another man materialised next to us. ‘Vlassis here will take you to the palace. You’ll find food and drink in the kitchens. We will continue this conversation in the morning. This meeting is over.’
The palace backed onto the Western Walls and the target of the Ottoman assault. He wants me killed, I thought.
And with an almost imperceptible wave of the Emperor’s arm, Vlassis came forward and beckoned me to follow him.
It was pointless to insist in trying to convince him of the error of his ways and to further criticise his miscalculated course of action. That boat sailed early on in this conversation. And I would not dare to tell him to give careful thought to what I said. He appeared in no mood to change his position.
Any further attempt to get through to him was doomed and might even rile him so much as to cost me my life. I had no doubt that I had achieved that fatal accolade, judging by his sending me to the most vulnerable location of the city slap bang next to the Western Walls. And to ensure that I would not be deviating from the course he set for me and escaping my fate, he assigned me an escort no less.
What an honour. What merciful act to send me on my way to my final destination. Another clue that something was not quite right with the Emperor. Fat chance, though. He should have known me better than believing he could dispose of me so easily. If he thought I would simply roll away and die, he was very much mistaken.
I only wished that I could say that I would be leaving confident that the correct measures were being taken. What a shame. The Emperor had shown he was in no giving mood, but there was something else I had to try to obtain before I left. The window was closing for the last chance to achieve it and I had the thankless task to request it as the currently appointed ambassador of the Order.
That was why I could not leave like this, not yet. I owed as much to the Order. I did not make any attempt to move. The Emperor, who was already on his way out, sensed my unwillingness to leave and, mildly annoyed, turned to stare at me.
‘Why are you still here? Whatever it is you want to say, say it quickly and be gone.’
I was still silent wondering how to bring up what was on my mind.
‘Well?’ The Emperor was losing his patience.
‘Your Majesty, I will not ask for an explanation for the treatment that the Order has suffered in the hands of the Court over many centuries, even though all we ever wanted was to protect you, the Imperial family, and never craved your power for ourselves. We don’t want it. We are not power hungry. However, we have against all odds and the Court’s resistance managed to save members of your family many a time. In these dark hours, and you know as well as I do that you don’t stand a chance against the Ottomans, there is a last act that you should perform.
‘You owe it to the Order to issue a decree legalising it. With the City about to be lost, it would really not matter very much in practice. However, it would be a symbolic gesture. What would you have to lose? In fact you will only gain blind loyalty and love in the truest sense, not just service as a result of self-inflicted duty. Make your last act of government count and give satisfaction to a group of people who deserve it and who have been shamefully treated for so long. I beg you, your Majesty, this is the moment to show some degree of contrition which would be much admired. The fact that you did this… in the face of such adversity… Just think, your Majesty, the honour. And, do not forget that with the Empire practically non-existent, what have you got left? The City and a few acres around it. No… ignore that… the few acres around it are being treaded on by the Ottomans. So that only leaves the City. How long do you think you can hold it for? Once the City is gone and you are dead, you will not care, but think of your legacy. Mend the bridges with the Order. You may not agree, but you would not want to go to your grave with that weighing on your conscience and, if you survive the siege, you will need the Order before long and more than ever.’
‘No, I will not. They will give their lives for the Imperial line anyway.’
‘But it would make their job easier. Reward their loyalty with this act. They deserve it. And let me assure you that the Order would not continue to pander to your petty jealousies and irrational fear. They are not your slaves. The patience of its members is wearing thin. The Order is not your enemy here. It never has been a threat to this throne nor has it ever done anything or shown any signs that it had set its sights on your power, that its intentions were anything other than honourable and altruistic.’
‘They will do it anyway. They have taken the oath of the Order and they could not break it. Why should I bother to do anything about it then? Now leave.’
‘But…’ I stopped and bowed my head to a man that did not deserve it. I only did it, though, out of respect for what he represented, not just an institution and an empire; his was the last face of a thousand-year old glorious history. Yet I was eaten inside by the injustice of it all and by doubt, by the suspicion that this man before me was not be the Emperor, was not the person I thought I knew.
I was amazed that the Emperor had allowed me to go on for so long. He almost tried to stop me a few times, but, abruptly and surprisingly, changed his mind. I found that strange.
I was angry and astounded at the Emperor’s spite. I had put a simple request to him. The act would cost him nothing. He had nothing to lose. Then why? Why? How could he, even at this hour, be so unbowed and unmoved?
I could see, though, that there was nothing more I could achieve here. There would be another time of reckoning, but this was not it, anymore. I bowed to his Majesty, the “Emperor and defiant and unchallenged master” of a severely butchered empire, and allowed myself to be escorted out.
Once Michael was gone, a figure appeared out of the shadows.
‘My dear Ibrahim, you have done well. Now let’s discuss the latest instructions from the Sultan.’