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The Ottomans fired on the ship, my lord, and sank it.”
    Constantine was shaken. He was aware of this ship, which was bound for the city with food and supplies from the Black Sea ports. These supplies were critical to the city that had so few remaining farms or villages to support it. Constantine looked over at Zophia, who stared back with an understanding sadness. Calm. The situation demanded calm and confidence, even among such close friends. He smiled and raised both his hands palm outward and gently lowered them as if he could defuse the situation with this simple gesture.
    “Were there any survivors?”
    “I believe so my Lord, I believe most of the men survived, but they were captured by the Ottomans. I don’t know what has become of them.”
    “You said you had both fact and rumor. I assume the ship is your ‘fact,’ what is rumor?”
    Sphrantzes hesitated again, looking Constantine in the eyes. “My Lord, I am hearing through various sources that a large army is massing south of Edirne. If this is true, it is the traditional camping grounds of Ottoman armies intending to march on the city.”
    Constantine felt the anxiety rising through him. Why now? Why would they move so fast? He thought he would get a reprieve when Mehmet became Sultan. Certainly the boy had a bad reputation as both unbalanced and arrogant, but wasn’t that a bonus? His father Murad had been so calculating and strong, a great leader who Constantine feared but also respected. When Mehmet ascended so young, after such early failures, Constantine was sure it was a gift from God. Surely the Ottoman power base would seek to keep this young hothead under control for many years to come? Mehmet had immediately signed a number of treaties preserving the status quo with the Greeks and many Latin kingdoms. Wasn’t this proof that the old guard now controlled the Ottomans? Why then was an army amassing? No point in jumping to any conclusions, the Ottomans’ sabers rattled for many reasons. Maybe Halil and the others were letting Mehmet play soldier to keep him busy. Maybe they would raid some small Greek town or village. Constantine couldn’t really afford to lose any of the few remaining territories he controlled, but far better that than a full scale attack on the city. He must wait and see, for now it was time to present the best front, and not allow panic, even in front of Zophia and Sphrantzes.
    Constantine turned to Zophia, bowing slightly with a grin. “My dear, thank you for the charming day. Apparently there are some minor matters that require my attention at the palace. I must regretfully cut short what has otherwise been a delightful outing.”
    Zophia smiled back, knowing exactly what Constantine was doing, but clearly enjoying his strength and poise. “Thank you My Lord. You are welcome to find your way back here when you are finished.”
    “I shall certainly do so as soon as possible.”
    He turned to Sphrantzes. “Let’s go.”
    Sphrantzes bowed slightly to Zophia and turned quickly to the door.
    Constantine hurried on horseback with Sphrantzes to his palace at Blachernae. The Palace of Blachernae was connected to the land walls of the city and sat at the extreme northwest corner of the walled peninsula near the Regia gate. The Greek Emperors had used this palace for the past two centuries. He had to pass through several large areas of fields and empty buildings. The great city, which hosted more than a half million people in its prime, had withered to less than 100,000. Whole portions of Constantinople had reverted to wilderness, and at times it was difficult to feel one was in a city at all.
    The palace was set on a hill and contained multiple terraces and buildings. The entrance was guarded. Constantine dismounted and half-walked, half ran to his council room. Sphrantzes had sent additional messengers to the principal counselors of the empire, including the Megadux (the Grand Duke or High Admiral) Loukas Notaras,