In a dusty field, Antigonos regarded his opponent, Mehmed the Sultan, the killer of his father, the conqueror of his city, and decided that he would see him dead. He saw the Acrocorinth's walls, pitted and cratered and curdled with smoke, and found that his heartbeat quickened; with fear, with excitement, with the thought of drawing his sword and driving it through the heart of the heathen opposite him.
Perhaps, in another life, the two might have been friends. Indeed, both were men of action, brave and bold -- they enjoyed the mutual pursuit of poetry, both the reading and writing of it -- men of ambition, of a certain haughtiness, prone to moods of gloominess and, upon occasion, tyranny. They were obsessive scholars who could speak several languages each. Both were fascinated by the exploits of Julius Caesar and Alexander Great. One witty writer famously wrote that the Sultan and the Emperor were the two sides of the same coin.
What would Antigonos have witnessed? A well-built man; aquiline in profile, with a long, hawkish nose perched above full lips. Turbaned and kaftanned, with a sword upon his own hip; sat atop an ill-tempered charger that bared its teeth and stamped an impatient hoof.
Mehmed, meanwhile, would have been faced by a young boy, dark-haired and dark-eyed, his limbs long -- like those of a racing hound -- and clad in a coat of golden chainmail and a purple cloak.
Both spoke amicably. Mehmed wished good health upon Antigonos and finished each sentence with a toothy smile; the Sultan even greeted Rhangabes, claiming to remember the Emperor's champion from the Great Siege -- 'For few are as large and handsome as you,' he reportedly said, delightedly -- and then, with a hint of admiration in his voice, lamented that Constantine had spurned his peace efforts and died in the taking of Constantinople.
Antigonos thanked the Sultan for his condolences, in perfect -- if sharply-accented -- Turkish, and prayed that Mehmed would break the siege of the Acrocorinth and spare them all from misery.
Behind both parties, their armies awaited; a mass of men and horse, banners fluttering lazily in the wind, mail, spear-points and helmets glistering with sunlight. Men traded wineskins and boasts in equal measure. Prayers spilled from dry mouths. The Turkish lines overextended those of the Romans; but most of Mehmed's cavalry was away with Zaganos Pasha, razing the countryside.
And out in the no man's land, where blood would turn the dusty soil into a mire, the two rulers were locked in conversation.
Terms were now being aired. Mehmed would allow the Emperor to retain his lands in the Morea -- a generous offer -- but would expect a yearly tithe from Antigonos and a formal renouncement of the Emperor's claim to Constantinople. Antigonos would also need to submit and recognise the Sultan as his master.
Antigonos fell into a long, contemplative silence. John Hunyadi, riding at his side, spat and muttered a curse in Hungarian. Hunyadi and his sons had disagreed with Antigonos' insistence on meeting with the Sultan. A hard strike, for the throat, is what he had suggested. Rhangabes had agreed with Hunyadi and fallen into a dismayed silence when the young Emperor proved himself stubborn as an ox and trotted out to speak with Mehmed.
And then, he agreed. It was surely a bitter decision; the words heavy upon his tongue, but what other option did he truly have? If he chose battle, his men would die. He might die. The Morea would burn and the House of Palaiologos' rule would come crashing to an end.
Hunyadi, enraged, turned his horse and galloped away. Theophilos -- who had also accompanied the Emperor on his march -- went pale and followed after the Hungarian. Rhangabes sucked his breath between clenched teeth and tightened his hands around his reins.
And Antigonos edged his horse closer, leaned over in the saddle and kissed the Sultan's ring. In the Roman army, men cursed; their banners and spears wavered in the air. The Hungarians muttered bitterly amongst themselves.
Antigonos now asked the Sultan leave to see supplies delivered to Asen and his defenders. The bombardment of the Acrocorinth would cease at once and the gates would be opened. Both armies would camp opposite another and, in the morning, a formal ceremony would be held; followed by an evening of celebration. Mehmed agreed.
The Sultan returned to his camp, victorious, and a great ululating cry could be heard from the throats of the Turks.
Only gloomy silence greeted the Emperor as he was swallowed by the ranks. He ordered his tent erected and then summoned his commanders. Here, he laid out his plan.
It was the 12th of February. Soon, the sun retreated beneath the horizon and the moon rose high. Under the cover of darkness, the Emperor launched his attack.
The sound of a massed cavalry charge is truly a terrifying thing; a rumble, a thundering, a great, shaking vibration in the air and the earth, amplified by battle cries, by the sound of horns, by the rattle of armour. The charge of Antigonos' horsemen, with Rhangabes the giant and Ladislaus the Hungarian at the head, would be remembered by all present for years to come. It was a hellish night, windy, torches fluttering above the heads of the riders; armour glowing cherry-red, swords rendered as slithers of moonlight stained with blood, faces twisted into snarls of shadow and hate.
Behind the horsemen came a running line of infantry, pikes lowered, swords drawn; trampling across the dusty field where, hours before, the Emperor had sworn friendship to Mehmed the Turk. The Turkish sentries were overwhelmed and butchered, left as crow-food, and the horsemen and infantry now poured into Mehmed's well-organised camp. Beautiful tents went up in flames. As men stumbled from them, aflame, crying out in shock, they were struck down.
Panic filled the night. The Turks, to their credit, rallied quickly; now true battle was met. Mehmed, his face dark with anger and his voice poisonous, led a counter-attack that saw the charge stalled. Here, he fought as brave as a lion; knocking Ladislaus Hunyadi from his saddle and burying his sword between the young man's eyes. The air was filled with the acrid sting of smoke and burning flesh; with the stink of spilled guts and the iron-taste of blood. From the Acrocorinth, Asen's defenders sallied out, led by the redoubtable man himself.
Antigonos, escorted by the most formidable of his warriors, joined the battle; killing his first man when he struck him across the head and trampled him to death -- for-ever earning the moniker Keraunos, 'Thunderbolt,' for the night-time assault -- and cheered when it became evident that the Turks were fleeing. The Romans and their Hungarian allies continued to harry the Turks throughout the night, chasing them across the Isthmus of Corinth; unrelenting, a veritable tide of warriors who smashed into them from behind and bore them down with wickedly sharp steel. Mehmed, surrounded by his Janissaries, had to be forced from the battlefield and onto one of the Turkish ships in Corinth's harbour; cursing, lathered with the blood of the Christians, vowing vengeance, shouting his hatred.
The Sultan's war-chest was captured. As the sun rose the next morning, Antigonos and his men -- steaming with gore, exhausted, their breath silvery in the pale winter air -- shared the gold. Some of Mehmed's harem had been captured, but these were treated kindly by the young Emperor and secreted away from prying eyes and wandering hands.
Now, Antigonos needed to deal with the men he had taken prisoner. A young Wallachian princeling in the service of the Hungarians now came forwards with a suggestion; a man known to history as Vlad Dracula. Dracula had been raised in the Ottoman court and had seen their ways of punishment -- and learned them -- first-hand.
On the 15th of February, the Ottoman prisoners -- some one thousand and thirty -- were impaled upon the Isthmus. Vlad Dracula oversaw this; with some cruel delight. The Ottoman prisoners -- not just Turks but their allies too -- were kept alive throughout the ordeal and lingered, in agony, for days.
But little rest could be enjoyed. Zaganos Pasha and his horsemen were still on the loose and needed to be dealt with.