Became The Sultan Of The Ottoman Empire [EN]: Chapter 145

The Siege of Rhodes (2)

-Boom!

A cannon roared from Rhodes Fortress in the distance, but the soldiers building the ramparts didn’t even glance up.

Ignoring it like a barking dog, a soldier mixing cement with water overheard a comrade guarding the perimeter.

“Sector 45!”

“Sector 46!”

“Take cover! Take cover!”

At the calls and echoes, the soldiers in those sectors instinctively ducked behind the ramparts and anything else that offered protection, the sound of incoming shells reverberating around them.

Some shells struck the ramparts under construction, shaking the structures and sending stone fragments flying.

However, even in this perilous situation, the soldiers remained remarkably calm.

“I don’t know why they’re wasting their time like that.”

The soldier leaning against the rampart grumbled, chewing on a piece of dry, tough bread.

It wasn’t exactly high-quality bread, but it was a luxury compared to the rock-hard bread that usually had to be softened with saliva for ages.

Away from the ramparts, bakers who had come from Anatolia [a large peninsula in modern-day Turkey, also known as Asia Minor] were sweating over a smoldering brazier.

Their presence was a major factor in being able to afford such luxuries even during wartime.

Pat.

‘I don’t know if I’ll ever experience such a ‘safe’ war again.’

The soldier brushed the stone dust off his bread and thought to himself as he chewed it with the supplied chunk of meat.

The first to die on the battlefield weren’t always the soldiers at the front, nor the weakest, but often the unlucky ones, and some of his comrades had already met their end that way.

“Still, it’s better than climbing up there and dying.”

The process of building the ramparts under the direction of the Janissary [elite infantry units that formed the Ottoman Sultan’s household troops and bodyguard] sappers was arduous, but it was better to have a sore body than to be dead.

The Ottoman soldiers were in high spirits simply by avoiding the hell of stepping on their comrades’ corpses and becoming stepping stones themselves.

“Cease fire! Resume work!”

The shelling, which had done no significant damage and failed to hinder their progress, stopped, and the soldiers resumed building the ramparts.

Watching tens of thousands of men constructing the fortress, Yusuf leaned on his gun like a cane and asked Dukakinzade.

“Anatolia Beylerbey [governor-general of Anatolia], there won’t be any problems with supplies, will there?”

“You don’t have to worry about supplies, even if everything else goes wrong.”

The battlefield was a series of uncertainties, and in a normal war, he wouldn’t have given such a confident answer about supplies, but this time was an exception.

The island of Rhodes was just across from the Anatolian Peninsula, and the Greek regions, including Athens, were also nearby, not to mention the ease of maritime transport.

Considering the last war, which involved tens of thousands of camels, securing supplies couldn’t be easier.

“Mistakes come from carelessness, so don’t neglect supplies, and pay attention to the hygiene of the soldiers to prevent epidemics.”

“I will keep that in mind.”

There’s nothing more frustrating than soldiers dying from disease rather than from the enemy.

Rhodes Island was a large island, about three-quarters the size of Jeju Island [a South Korean island known for its natural beauty], so there were ample water resources to maintain basic hygiene.

Yusuf, having given the order, turned his gaze to the firmly standing Rhodes Fortress.

It was too early in the construction phase to act as effective cover, but once the ramparts were above shoulder height, they would be beyond the stage of being easily damaged by shelling.

“They’re starting their last struggle. Don’t you think?”

“The gods agree, Padishah [Ottoman Emperor]. If they don’t surrender, they will surely come forward.”

From the moment the Knights began building the double ramparts that they didn’t even want, it was as if they had declared that they would starve the enemy to death.

The moment the ramparts were completed, time would no longer be on the Knights’ side.

They would have to worry about internal divisions as they despaired over the dwindling food supply day by day.

Yusuf watched the fortress as darkness fell and issued an order with a grim expression.

“Let them know how futile their last struggle is.”

It was almost comical that the siege was being conducted with the attacker and defender roles reversed.

Like the future of the Knights, who would collapse in vain.

***

The chain mail that would normally be visible under the black cloak emblazoned with the white octagonal cross was absent tonight.

The heavy breathing of those wearing leather armor echoed under the night sky, and the lined-up knights and soldiers knelt on one knee in unison.

“Your Excellency, preparations are complete.”

Grand Master Caretto of the Knights made eye contact with each of the assembled troops.

His strong-willed eyes showed no fear of the impending death, and Caretto let out a sigh under the dim moonlight.

“White Knights and six hundred soldiers. Tonight, I will be a sinner before the Lord.”

These were men who were not just able to die, but felt they had no choice but to die.

Caretto’s heart was heavy as he looked at them, and as if sensing his feelings, the vice-captain, who was the first to volunteer for the suicide mission, smiled.

“It was an honor to be with you, Your Excellency.”

“It was an honor for me to be with you all.”

The reasons for joining the Knights in the first place were diverse, including honor, money, and revenge, but in the end, the most valuable thing they gained here was camaraderie.

It was a separation that caused the pain of flesh being torn away, and the troops, including the vice-captain, moved quickly so that Caretto’s heart would not be burdened further.

Rhodes Fortress had 11 gates, but half of them were on the blocked coastline, and the remaining gates were heavily defended by the Ottomans in anticipation of a night raid.

In the end, the troops hanging from the ropes descended into the neatly dug moat, and Caretto turned his gaze to the enemy camp.

“The security is tight.”

Small fireflies were visible on the enemy’s ramparts.

This meant that there were many Ottoman guards turning the lit wicks of their matchlock guns so that they wouldn’t go out.

However, there was no frustration in Caretto’s wrinkled eyes as he observed the tight security.

“It was good to have tight security, but using matchlock guns was a mistake.”

It was a great weapon that made the Ottoman army formidable, but every weapon must be used according to the situation.

If there are guards to some extent and they reveal their positions, it becomes easier to penetrate the enemy camp.

How long had he been standing on the ramparts waiting for the Knights to move? A scream rang out with the sound of a crossbow bolt flying through the air.

-Kuaaak!

-Enemy, enemy! The enemy has appeared!

-Kill all the infidels! Charge!

The Ottoman army, announcing the appearance of the enemy, and the Knights, throwing themselves into the fray to expend their last lives, clashed.

Watching the shadows of his men nimbly crossing the ramparts under construction, Caretto clenched his fists with a sense of resignation.

If they successfully delayed the Ottoman army’s construction, his job was to find a new breakthrough so that their sacrifices would not be in vain.

As he pondered the next step, he realized that the situation was turning strangely.

-Ugh! You dog-like infidels!

-The Lord will, cough, take you!.

Instead of the screams of the infidels that should have been heard, only the screams of his allies who had safely crossed the ramparts were audible, and a huge flame of gunpowder dazzled his eyes.

It looked like the screams of those who had lost their lives in vain, and a terrible silence settled over Rhodes Fortress.

***

Yusuf sneered at the prisoners in their miserable state.

“You should have been more careful when entering the construction site. You lack the basics.”

He had predicted that there would be a night raid, but the biggest challenge was effectively guarding the long ramparts.

Setting traps during the construction of the ramparts would only make them obvious, so he devised a plan to strategically place construction materials around the ramparts under construction.

The materials, which were easily overlooked in the dark night, served as traps and obstacles in themselves.

‘Deliberately using guards who use matchlock guns was also a trick.’

By openly displaying the guards playing with fire to keep the lit wicks from going out, he made them overlook the possibility that Janissaries using flintlock guns might be waiting in hiding for prey.

Of course, it wouldn’t have mattered if they were perceptive enough to realize that the Janissaries were waiting in ambush.

In any case, the Ottoman Empire’s goal was not to inflict heavy damage on the enemy, but to buy time until the fortress was completed to a significant extent.

“Yo, you infidels, I’ll tear you to pieces… cough, you’re despicable! Can’t you fight fair and square?”

Yusuf smiled lightly after hearing the prisoner’s words through an interpreter.

“Did you say you were the vice-captain? It’s ironic that you’re talking about being fair and square when your primary occupation is piracy.”

“It’s not piracy, it’s a holy war! The Lord will be pleased with what we do to the infidels!”

It didn’t matter whether he truly believed it or whether it was something he was simply concerned about.

Yusuf replied indifferently to the vice-captain, who shouted and vehemently denied the accusation.

“Even the Knights can engage in piracy. I also enjoy piracy and looting.”

It was a win-win tactic that both harassed the enemy and benefited him.

Where else in the world could you find such a profitable investment as giving Michelangelo [Italian sculptor, painter, architect, and poet of the High Renaissance] as a reward for some support?

It wasn’t an exaggeration to say that he loved piracy and looting.

“However, you have to operate within your means. If you don’t want to end up in such a miserable state as you are.”

“Padishah, what should we do with the prisoners? Should we execute them all?”

Hanging the enemy’s heads on poles was not a particularly noble hobby.

He had only done it when it was necessary, and this time it would be counterproductive.

“No, that’s enough. Doing so will only give the enemy a reason to unite.”

He had dismissed them as pirates, but they were indeed knights who were not afraid of death.

There was no need to do anything that would ignite the fire in their hearts.

“What should we do? Give us your orders.”

There were about 200 enemies captured, and Yusuf twisted his lips as he looked at them, their eyes shining fiercely even as they were covered in their comrades’ blood.

“Cut their tendons and return them to the enemy tomorrow morning to the sound of the military band.”

A hero is made by death, and a surviving wounded soldier is nothing more than a burden.

Dukakinzade burst into hearty laughter at the order to throw a source of conflict back at the enemy.

It was not difficult to predict what kind of situation the enemies, burdened with limited food, would face in the future.

‘The closer humans get to their limits, the more cruel they become.’

Whether they die lonely, cursing their comrades in neglect, or become a source of conflict between the Knights and the residents who are trying to save their comrades.

It wouldn’t be the honorable situation they had dreamed of.

Upon hearing Yusuf’s order, the Janissaries cut the prisoners’ tendons, including their Achilles tendons, and screams and blood splattered under the torchlight.

“Murat.”

“…Yes, Padishah.”

Yusuf placed his hand on his son’s shoulder, who was still somewhat immature even though he was an adult.

“Beheading the enemy commander and winning triumphantly is one way to wage war, but exploiting the enemy’s weaknesses and maximizing our strengths is another. Remember, the most important thing is victory.”

“I understand.”

“Then go back to Cairo. I’m returning to the capital.”

The war was already as good as won, and the ruler of the empire was not so free as to waste time on a war where the outcome was obvious.

It hadn’t been a month since he had set out on his own, so his words to the Grand Vizier [the prime minister of the Ottoman sultan] that he would be back soon had come true.

Yusuf’s gaze turned to the ramparts under construction.

‘There’s no need to finish building it.’

This construction was not just about occupying Rhodes Island, but also about flexing, that is, showing off.

The Ottoman Empire shines more when it is a symbol of fear, not a friendly neighbor, to the West.

What will Europe, which is watching this, think?

Far from thinking that the Knights of Rhodes are holding out well, they will fear a capable madman who is building ramparts to starve the enemy to death.

The Siege of Rhodes will not be a battle that enhances the reputation of the Knights, as in the original history, but an event that instills fear of the Ottoman Empire.

“That’s enough. Silahhtar Agha [the sword-bearer of the Sultan].”

“Yes, Padishah.”

“Prepare to return.”

The Knights felt a terrible despair as they watched their comrades, who had returned as cripples, and the purple flag of the Ottoman royal family fading into the distance.

What was left for them was not a glorious future.

***

“Mother, everyone has gathered.”

“I understand.”

At Mehmet’s words, Ayşe covered her face with a hijab [a veil worn by Muslim women] and rose from her seat.

Kefe, a port city in the northern Black Sea, was where she would reside in the future, and her steps were light.

As the door blocking her opened, the commotion inside disappeared as if washed away, and those gathered paid their respects in unison.

“We greet Prince Mehmet and Ayşe Hatun!”

A seat one step lower than the highest seat.

Ayşe, sitting in the seat that would be hers in the future, made a graceful gesture.

“Saadet Khan and Ivan. It’s been a long time for both of you.”

“It is truly an honor that Hatun [a Turkish title of respect for women] remembers us.”

From the officials of the Crimean Khanate lined up on the right, led by Saadet, to the officials of the Cherkes, led by Ivan, who were seated on the left.

Ayşe smiled as she looked at them.

The harem, where women’s political participation was strictly restricted, was a shackle that would have felt like hell if Yusuf had not been there.

“Prince, please announce the start of the meeting.”

There was no woman in this place who was happy with the Padishah’s favor.

There was only one Hatun who had thrown off her shackles and was sharing her life with the Prince.

The eyes of the two mothers sparkled like jewels.