Originally for SEUS: 15th Century

On the deck of the Cambiare, Giovanni Vendramin and his son Luca watched the siege of Constantinople. Ottoman ships had blockaded the Golden Horn, but even from this distance, the view was breathtaking. The double walls of the Queen of Cities dominated the view, stretching from coast to coast, the lowest points forty-five feet high. It was the history, though, the knowledge that in a thousand years and through twenty sieges they had never once fallen, that lent them their true gravitas.

But before the walls, the Ottoman army spilled across the landscape like ink from an overturned well. Even from this distance, he could hear the irregular roar of the cannons, so new and yet so prominent in warfare. The Byzantines had found some too, smaller but longer ranged with the height of the walls, forcing the Ottomans to throw up dirt barricades before returning fire.

Giovanni didn't know how long they'd been standing there when Luca asked him, "Father, what should we do? Do you think we can pick up cargo at Ephesus, or perhaps Thessalonica?"

He stroked his beard before replying, surveying the siege once more. "How have your Turkish lessons been coming along?"

His son looked down and hunched his shoulders. "Not that well. You told me to concentrate on Greek," he muttered, and Giovanni was quick to reassure him when he heard the defensive tone.

"I remember, and that was my mistake, as it turns out." He fumbled around in his tunic for a moment and pulled out his purse, offering it to his son. "But do you know enough to bribe a Turkish official?" He saw his son hesitate, and Giovanni nodded to the line of blockading ships. "Don't worry, I know they won't let us through, and I don't even want you to ask. But are you fluent enough to get some news of the siege from one of them?"

Luca smiled and took it, "Is that all? That I can do."

They kept the Cambiare at half-sail as they approached the galleys, and dropped anchor the moment a ship left the line to intercept them. An annoyed officer came aboard, and Giovanni stood aside to let his son handle the conversation. He didn't understand a word, but noted with approval the amount of money that Luca handed over at intervals, and the smile on the face of the officer as he left. His son had learned well.

Luca said, "First, we have to move the ship back half a mile, the captain was quite insistent." Giovanni gave the order, and the two men found some privacy at the stern, where they could observe the siege as they sailed away.

"What did he say about the war?"

"Not much, he was very evasive about the siege itself. He even refused confirm if any rumors I brought up were sooth. However, he emphasized the news from the Ottoman capital at Edirne. Apparently, Sultan Murad's hold on the throne is not as secure as we've heard. His brother Mustafa is raising a rebellion in the army's absence. While he wouldn't say anything definite, with the last bribe he suggested that if we stayed here another night or two, we might be happy with the result."

Giovanni drummed his fingers on the railing and stared blankly at the walls. "So... the army will be forced to pull back. Waiting a few days to load at Constantinople itself will be worth it, and the amphora of olive oil aren't going to go bad." He nodded as he came to a decision. "Find us a good spot to anchor, and tell the men to relax."

Now that they were a little closer, he could see when an Ottoman cannonball struck a crenelation on the first wall, sending the mass of stone tumbling to the moat below. A chill ran down his spine, and he again assessed the army spread before the city, farther than the eye could see. Now that he was looking for it, he saw the rear elements beginning to stir, preparing to return to Edirne. But for the first time, they were leaving by choice, not driven away.

If they attacked again...

Giovanni wanted to deny the possibility. The Vendramins had spent centuries building their connections to Constantinople, nurturing the trade between East and West. But the walls told a tale; the crenelation he'd seen fall was not the only one missing. If the Ottomans attacked again, Mediterranean life might never be the same.

Just before his son went to pass his orders along, Giovanni added, "And Luca? I think it might be wise to begin focusing on Turkish, rather than Greek."