1453: Revival of Byzantium
"I have always known that the best of the Saracens could out-Christian many of us Christians."
- "The Leper of St Giles" By Edith Mary Pargeter.
"As I have said earlier, your Eminence." The man stood up before the bishop with his eyes reflecting an eery red light in the darkness. "Lord Skanderbeg is too far away from us…. We have to depend on ourselves…"
"Lord Skanderbeg is not far! We are just a distance away from his freed lands." Another young man behind protested, seemingly a big fan of Skanderbeg.
The Bishop nodded.
"Why are we still waiting for Lord Skanderbeg!" The elder man punched his fist onto the table and leaned forward towards the Bishop, the grim shallow red light in his eyes became even brighter as the old bishop picked up his staff as an instinct of self defence looking at that pair of vampire like eyes.
Suddenly, the boiling blooded young folk who was standing at the back uttering not a single word exclaimed as he points towards the window. "Look! Look outside!"
"Fisnik!" The man seated bellowed beneath his breathe. "Be quiet! We are discussing important stuff which will determine the lives all the people in the entire city! Do not interrupt!"
"No please, just look out of the window!"
Outside of the window.
People gazed at the dark velvet of the night, and there is indeed something abnormal.
There are no stars tonight.
Adding on to that, the moon which usually hangs itself among the blazing stars donning the sky in a gleeful pattern radiating its light on everyone on the ground, is red.
Bloody red.
The moon tonight, painted with exotic hues of red, bright as ever it could have been, hanging over there like a silhouette that seems to draw itself closer and closer to the ground. Or perhaps it is the opposite, it might be drawing the souls of everyone over here closer to the moon. Usually, red stands for the definition of romance, heart, warmth, and home, but now, it strikes fear.
The young man Fisnik looks around with his face and eyes look like his souls has been completely soaked out of his mind. The others have the same expression on their faces, sweat dropping like rain drops drenching their linen shirt, eyes throbbing, rapid vibrating inside their inner ear drums and heart pounding against their chests.
It did not take long before the Bishop came back into realisation as he became the first one to break the silence by kneeling down and started praying to the moon murmuring his prayers holding the silver cross in his hands. The others are also plunged into a surge of panic attack as they started debating on what is the message God is trying to send them through this abnormal phenomenon, is it a warning? Signifying an incoming disaster? The Bishop cannot tell, he feels he is completely lost, the only thing he can grab hold now, is the cross in his hands and the faith in his mind as he struggles up supporting his body on the chair staring at the red moon, but just as he is about to comfort these boys asking them to stop planning such dangerous activities and go home, his eyes came into contact with that pair eerie seemingly blood shot pair of eyes reflecting the red lights from the Moon once more.
"Your beatitude! Your Beatitude!" The man roared excitedly grabbing hold of the Bishop by his fragile shoulders. "Do you know what this means! Do you know what this means!"
The Bishop paced back his breathe and looked out of the window once more. The entire city is plunged into chaos as Ottoman soldiers are rushed onto the streets shouting slashing their whips onto anyone caught disobeying the curfew trying to keep everyone at home stopping them from coming here, the chantry.
"Think twice! Young man!" The Bishop found himself extraordinarily calm in this time of dilemma as he realises the burden and responsibility as the leader of the Christian spiritual world in this city. "People are going to die!"
"Everyone will die eventually! But if I would get a chance to choose! I would choose to die fighting for liberty of my people!" The young man continued shouting. "Tonight, is the time to raise the flag and welcome the crusaders outside! Just give the orders! Your beatitude!"
The other folks echoed behind.
"Just give the orders ! Your beatitude!"
"Just give the orders ! Your beatitude!"
Seeing that he has no way out of this, the Bishop sighed and slumped back into his chair. "Fine, do whatever you want… Here is the seal of the Chantry…"
The man snatched the seal from the Bishop's hand and rushed out of the room with others following closely behind. With the Bishop at the back shouting hopelessly his last sentence of the night. "Pledge that you shall devote your life to the protection all people who deserves to be protected! Everyone deserves to be protected!"
But the young gang of boys have already rushed out of the room, with only this boy called Fisnik halted for a while, turned back and nodded heavily towards the Bishop, banged the door behind him and left with the others, leaving the poor old Bishop and his disciples behind in the room panting up and down looking out of the window.
"Raise the flag of the League of Lezhë on the top of the Chantry! Ring the bells! Lit the torches! Send the signals!" The leader of the gang gives out orders as he climbs down the stair case. "We need to control the two gates, and the keep with the tower! We need to send signals to the Lord Crusaders expressing our wills and negotiate with them for our independence! Who knows how to speak Latin over here?"
"I do!"
"Good! Then you will be the one finding the Crusader Lord and inform him of our plans! Remember, be polite!"
"Got it!"
"Who will be in charge of informing the Lord Crusaders on the sea?"
"Me…I shall be in charge of taking control of the port!" Fisnik timidly rose his voice behind trying to take a task and get involved in this honourable event that will be recorded in history.
"Fisnik..." The leader stopped and looked back. "Are you sure? You are still so young… I don't trust your capabilities, but this is serious."
"Trust my abilities! Brother!" The hot blooded young Fisnik slamped his chest with his fist confidently.
"Good, good…. You will take control of the light house, then send a series of signals towards the Lord Crusader's ships. If needed, you will even be required to sail a small ship to the Lord Crusader's fleet and request their support."
"Yes brother! Leave it to me!"
…
The blood moon continues watching on the sky, while below on the ground, the situation has already evolved to the extent of exploding yet waiting for its detonator.
Everyone knows that something big are going to happen this night.
Chapter 151: 146: The Red Moon
- "The Leper of St Giles" By Edith Mary Pargeter.
"As I have said earlier, your Eminence." The man stood up before the bishop with his eyes reflecting an eery red light in the darkness. "Lord Skanderbeg is too far away from us…. We have to depend on ourselves…"
"Lord Skanderbeg is not far! We are just a distance away from his freed lands." Another young man behind protested, seemingly a big fan of Skanderbeg.
The Bishop nodded.
"Why are we still waiting for Lord Skanderbeg!" The elder man punched his fist onto the table and leaned forward towards the Bishop, the grim shallow red light in his eyes became even brighter as the old bishop picked up his staff as an instinct of self defence looking at that pair of vampire like eyes.
Suddenly, the boiling blooded young folk who was standing at the back uttering not a single word exclaimed as he points towards the window. "Look! Look outside!"
"Fisnik!" The man seated bellowed beneath his breathe. "Be quiet! We are discussing important stuff which will determine the lives all the people in the entire city! Do not interrupt!"
"No please, just look out of the window!"
Outside of the window.
People gazed at the dark velvet of the night, and there is indeed something abnormal.
There are no stars tonight.
Adding on to that, the moon which usually hangs itself among the blazing stars donning the sky in a gleeful pattern radiating its light on everyone on the ground, is red.
Bloody red.
The moon tonight, painted with exotic hues of red, bright as ever it could have been, hanging over there like a silhouette that seems to draw itself closer and closer to the ground. Or perhaps it is the opposite, it might be drawing the souls of everyone over here closer to the moon. Usually, red stands for the definition of romance, heart, warmth, and home, but now, it strikes fear.
The young man Fisnik looks around with his face and eyes look like his souls has been completely soaked out of his mind. The others have the same expression on their faces, sweat dropping like rain drops drenching their linen shirt, eyes throbbing, rapid vibrating inside their inner ear drums and heart pounding against their chests.
It did not take long before the Bishop came back into realisation as he became the first one to break the silence by kneeling down and started praying to the moon murmuring his prayers holding the silver cross in his hands. The others are also plunged into a surge of panic attack as they started debating on what is the message God is trying to send them through this abnormal phenomenon, is it a warning? Signifying an incoming disaster? The Bishop cannot tell, he feels he is completely lost, the only thing he can grab hold now, is the cross in his hands and the faith in his mind as he struggles up supporting his body on the chair staring at the red moon, but just as he is about to comfort these boys asking them to stop planning such dangerous activities and go home, his eyes came into contact with that pair eerie seemingly blood shot pair of eyes reflecting the red lights from the Moon once more.
"Your beatitude! Your Beatitude!" The man roared excitedly grabbing hold of the Bishop by his fragile shoulders. "Do you know what this means! Do you know what this means!"
The Bishop paced back his breathe and looked out of the window once more. The entire city is plunged into chaos as Ottoman soldiers are rushed onto the streets shouting slashing their whips onto anyone caught disobeying the curfew trying to keep everyone at home stopping them from coming here, the chantry.
"Think twice! Young man!" The Bishop found himself extraordinarily calm in this time of dilemma as he realises the burden and responsibility as the leader of the Christian spiritual world in this city. "People are going to die!"
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The Bishop tried to resist. "But…"The other folks echoed behind.
"Just give the orders ! Your beatitude!"
"Just give the orders ! Your beatitude!"
Seeing that he has no way out of this, the Bishop sighed and slumped back into his chair. "Fine, do whatever you want… Here is the seal of the Chantry…"
The man snatched the seal from the Bishop's hand and rushed out of the room with others following closely behind. With the Bishop at the back shouting hopelessly his last sentence of the night. "Pledge that you shall devote your life to the protection all people who deserves to be protected! Everyone deserves to be protected!"
But the young gang of boys have already rushed out of the room, with only this boy called Fisnik halted for a while, turned back and nodded heavily towards the Bishop, banged the door behind him and left with the others, leaving the poor old Bishop and his disciples behind in the room panting up and down looking out of the window.
"Raise the flag of the League of Lezhë on the top of the Chantry! Ring the bells! Lit the torches! Send the signals!" The leader of the gang gives out orders as he climbs down the stair case. "We need to control the two gates, and the keep with the tower! We need to send signals to the Lord Crusaders expressing our wills and negotiate with them for our independence! Who knows how to speak Latin over here?"
"I do!"
"Good! Then you will be the one finding the Crusader Lord and inform him of our plans! Remember, be polite!"
"Got it!"
"Who will be in charge of informing the Lord Crusaders on the sea?"
"Me…I shall be in charge of taking control of the port!" Fisnik timidly rose his voice behind trying to take a task and get involved in this honourable event that will be recorded in history.
"Fisnik..." The leader stopped and looked back. "Are you sure? You are still so young… I don't trust your capabilities, but this is serious."
"Trust my abilities! Brother!" The hot blooded young Fisnik slamped his chest with his fist confidently.
"Good, good…. You will take control of the light house, then send a series of signals towards the Lord Crusader's ships. If needed, you will even be required to sail a small ship to the Lord Crusader's fleet and request their support."
"Yes brother! Leave it to me!"
…
The blood moon continues watching on the sky, while below on the ground, the situation has already evolved to the extent of exploding yet waiting for its detonator.
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