Chapitre 195: ER24
Chapter 24: The Sultan's Hand
The city of Thessalonica lay beneath a shroud of smoke as Sultan Murad II stood atop its ancient walls, surveying the desolation below. His short, stocky figure cut a stark silhouette against the charred sky, his broad, tanned face hardened by battle and conquest. The crooked nose and high cheekbones gave him a stern, almost predatory look befitting the man who had brought the once-great city to its knees. His small, sharp eyes glinted with a mixture of satisfaction and cold calculation.
The plundering had raged for three days, as was custom after a city was taken by storm. His Janissaries and soldiers had swept through Thessalonica, seizing treasures from churches and homes, dragging thousands into slavery. The great Cathedral of Hagios Demetrios had not been spared—its hallowed halls were defiled.
The Sultan entered the city on the fourth day, bringing order to the chaos. He ordered the soldiers to vacate the homes they had claimed, restoring what little remained to the city's surviving inhabitants. Of the once-vibrant populace, fewer than two thousand souls remained, their faces gaunt with fear and hunger. Yet Murad had a vision for Thessalonica—a vision of control and prosperity under Ottoman rule.
Reaching the steps of the Church of the Acheiropoietos, Murad paused. The massive doors hung ajar, and the sounds of looting echoed from within. He raised a hand, signaling his men to halt.
"Enough," he commanded. "Clear the church."
Janissaries moved swiftly to obey, ushering out soldiers laden with chalices and icons. Murad entered the sacred space, his footsteps echoing on the marble floor. Golden mosaics glinted dimly, depicting saints and angels who now gazed upon an uncertain future.
He knelt at the center of the nave, the vast dome arching overhead. Closing his eyes, Murad began to recite prayers, his voice resonating through the chamber. His men stood guard at the periphery, heads bowed in respect.
As he finished, Murad rose and looked around thoughtfully. "This place shall serve Allah now. Prepare it for conversion into a mosque."
---
Edirne, September 1430
Within the opulent halls of his palace in Edirne, Sultan Murad II sat cross-legged on a low dais draped with luxurious carpets. The room was adorned with intricate designs and illuminated by the warm glow of ornate lanterns. His small, sharp eyes surveyed his assembled advisors, each awaiting his words with attentive respect.
"Thessalonica must become more than just a conquered city," Murad began, his voice steady and authoritative. "It must stand as a testament to our empire's strength and benevolence. We will rebuild it, nurture it, and ensure it thrives under our rule."
Grand Vizier Halil Pasha stepped forward, his tone measured yet infused with a hint of pride. "Repopulation efforts are well underway, my Sultan. We are encouraging settlers—both Muslim and Christian—from Macedonia and surrounding regions to make Thessalonica their home. Notices have been sent, assuring those who fled that they may return without fear and reclaim their properties. Even the Despot of Serbia, Đurađ Branković, has facilitated the ransom of several captives."
Murad nodded thoughtfully. "Reassure them of our justice and fairness. A content populace is less likely to rebel. However, symbols of their former defiance must be repurposed." His gaze sharpened. "The Hagios Demetrios Church, in particular, holds significant meaning for them."
Halil Pasha inclined his head. "Indeed, my Sultan. What do you wish to be done?"
A subtle smile touched Murad's lips. "Have its marble transported here to Edirne. We shall use it to embellish a new bathhouse—a monument to the glory of our empire. Let it serve us in beauty and function rather than stand as a relic of past resistance."
"An inspired decision, my Sultan," Halil replied. "The bathhouse will be a marvel, a symbol of prosperity and unity under your reign."
As Halil stepped back, another advisor, Ahmed Bey, approached with a cautious expression, his eyes flickering with a mix of concern and anticipation. "My Sultan," he began, choosing his words carefully, "envoys from Venice have arrived seeking to negotiate terms."
Murad's gaze settled on Ahmed, a hint of skepticism in his eyes. "The Venetians wish to parley now, do they? After their tardy attempts to defend Thessalonica?"
"Yes, my Sultan," Ahmed replied, his voice steady. "They propose to cease their blockade of Gallipoli and are prepared to acknowledge our sovereignty over Thessalonica. In exchange, they request recognition of their control over Durazzo, Scutari, and Antivari in Albania."
Murad leaned back, stroking his beard thoughtfully. "Typical of merchants—they seek to cut their losses when profits wane." He paused, his expression contemplative. "What is your assessment, Ahmed?"
Ahmed met the Sultan's gaze respectfully. "Prolonged conflict with Venice could drain resources better spent elsewhere. Accepting their terms may grant us the opportunity to fortify our holdings and focus on other fronts."
Halil Pasha interjected, "It would also demonstrate our willingness to be reasonable, strengthening our position diplomatically."
Murad considered their counsel, his eyes narrowing slightly. "Very well. We shall entertain their proposal but ensure our terms are favorable. Let them understand that peace is granted from a position of strength, not concession."
The advisor bowed and stepped back, allowing Halil Pasha to step forward once more. The soft rustle of silk robes accompanied his movement, and the subtle scent of sandalwood lingered in the air.
"My Sultan," Halil Pasha began with measured tones, "there is encouraging news from the west. Hamza Bey reports that Ioannina has fallen to our forces. Carlo II Tocco has acknowledged our supremacy and accepted Ottoman suzerainty over the remnants of Epirus."
Sultan Murad II leaned back against the embroidered cushions of his divan, his keen eyes reflecting quiet satisfaction. The ambient glow of ornate lamps cast intricate patterns across his features.
"Hamza Bey continues to prove his worth," Murad remarked, his voice carrying a depth of contemplation. "His victories expand not only our territory but also secure critical positions along our western frontiers."
Halil Pasha nodded appreciatively. "Indeed, my Sultan. With Epirus under our influence, our hold over the region strengthens, and we further limit the avenues through which our rivals might challenge us."
A contemplative silence settled briefly in the chamber as Murad gazed at the map spread out on a low table before him, tracing the newly acquired territories with a discerning eye. A subtle smile curved his lips. "Our empire grows," he mused softly, the weight of responsibility evident in his tone. "But expansion brings not just opportunity, but the need for greater stewardship."
He turned his attention back to his assembled advisors, his gaze sharp yet thoughtful. "Tell me, what progress have we made regarding the Enderun School? The cultivation of capable leaders is paramount. The youths we train today will shape the future of our realm."
From the periphery of the room, a young advisor named Yusuf stepped forward. Newly appointed to the council, he was known for his intellect and insightful perspectives. Bowing respectfully, he addressed the Sultan. "My esteemed Sultan, significant advancements have been made. Renovations at the Enderun School in Edirne are well underway. We are broadening our recruitment to include promising youths from all corners of the empire, ensuring a diverse mix of talents."
Murad nodded, his expression contemplative. "In a realm as vast and varied as ours, it is essential that our leaders govern with wisdom and fairness."
His gaze swept over his advisors, his demeanor resolute yet imbued with a sense of purpose. "Let it be known that we are not merely conquerors but cultivators of civilization. The pen and the sword are both instruments of power: one extends our reach, the other deepens our roots."
Halil Pasha smiled subtly. "Your vision is inspiring, my Sultan. Under your guidance, the empire shall flourish in all facets."
"An empire's true strength lies not just in its borders," Murad reflected silently, "but in the hearts and minds of its people."
---
Another advisor, Mehmet, stepped forward hesitantly. Despite his youth, he was known for his keen insights, and Murad regarded him with a mix of curiosity and expectation.
"Speak, Mehmet," Murad prompted. "You have something to add?"
Mehmet bowed deeply. "My Sultan, there are matters concerning Constantine Palaiologos, a Despot of the Morea, that require your attention."
Murad arched an eyebrow. "Constantine? The younger brother of Emperor John VIII? What news from the Morea?"
"Reports indicate that he has acquired a remarkable device—a press of shorts—that allows him to produce books in great quantities, specifically Latin Bibles. He has amassed considerable wealth by selling these to merchants, particularly the Venetians. Moreover, he has been purchasing large quantities of cotton and other resources, though his ultimate intentions remain unclear."
Murad's eyes widened in surprise, and then a slow, incredulous smile spread across his face. "Latin Bibles? He profits from the faith?" He chuckled, shaking his head. "How ironic."
"Indeed, my Sultan," Mehmet continued. "There is concern that these Bibles may serve a purpose beyond mere commerce. They could be used as a means to seek aid from the Pope and the Christian powers."
Murad's expression hardened. "Explain your reasoning."
Mehmet glanced briefly at Halil Pasha before proceeding. "It is rumored that Emperor John VIII is engaging in talks with the Papacy about unifying the Eastern Orthodox and Roman Catholic Churches. Such a union could rally Western Christendom to Byzantium's aid against us. By disseminating Latin Bibles, Constantine may be fostering closer ties with Rome, paving the way for this unification."
Halil Pasha interjected, his tone grave. "Furthermore, my Sultan, Constantine's close trade relations with Venice are troubling. The Venetians have their own interests and could use this connection to support Byzantine efforts. Increased Venetian influence in the Morea could undermine our position."
Murad's gaze grew steely. "So, Constantine not only enriches himself but also strengthens potential enemies. He aligns himself with those who would oppose us."
"The accumulation of resources could indicate preparations for increased militarization," Halil Pasha added.
Murad's eyes flashed with a mixture of irritation and resolve. "Constantine oversteps his bounds. He must be reminded of his position within the hierarchy of power."
Turning decisively to Halil Pasha, he issued his command. "Dispatch Turahan Bey to the Morea next spring. Make it clear to Constantine that while he may govern his lands, he does so under the shadow of our empire. Any actions that threaten our stability will not be tolerated."
Halil Pasha bowed deeply. "Your will shall be carried out, my Sultan. Turahan Bey will ensure the despot remembers who holds true power in these lands."
Murad paused, his gaze distant but intense. "We must also intensify our surveillance. Strengthen our intelligence networks to monitor any further attempts by Emperor John to seek aid from the Pope. I want to know of any developments regarding potential unification talks."
"As you command, my Sultan," Mehmet replied. "We will keep a vigilant watch and report any findings promptly."
Murad's tone softened slightly, though his resolve remained firm. "The interplay of faith and politics is delicate. We must be competent in our actions to prevent any coalition that could challenge our dominion."
"Understood, my Sultan," Halil Pasha affirmed.
With the matter settled, Murad dismissed his advisors. As they departed, he remained seated, his thoughts deepening. The subtle currents of diplomacy and faith were as critical as the outcomes on the battlefield
État de l’alimentation hebdomadaire
-- Classement
Power Stone 
-- Power
stone