The fortress in Mistra heard of the fall of Constantinople and the death of their Emperor in battle during the sixth month of the siege. The Turks gave them the news under a flag of truce, from the lips of a captured and bloodied Byzantine official dragged there for that purpose. No doubt they thought that the fortress would surrender honorably if this fact was known by the men at arm garrisoned there. Not a day later a message arrived by ship from the Venetians, saying that there would be no reinforcement and no rescue; the Turks allowed that messenger safe passage as well.

At a council of war, the commander asked his subordinates what should be done: with no emperor, he held their oaths absolved and was willing to surrender if they willed it. Not a single one advocated the position.

Instead, the surviving men at arms who could fight donned their armor and unfurled their flags. The relics were spread among the sick and injured for safekeeping. And, at dawn, the fortress gate was opened.

The commander and his men marched out resplendent, to the tune of a Greek march played by a few of the more able wounded on the ramparts. Weapons and armor glistening from a night of spit and polish, the defenders hurled themselves at the Turkish lines, ignoring the cannons and tens upon thousands of men arrayed against them.

They were slaughtered to a man, though the ferocious battle took many of the besiegers with it–far greater casualties than had been anticipated if the walls had been breached and the stronghold stormed. In retaliation, the men remaining within the fortress were slaughtered, with only the few women and children inside spared.

The icons were lost in the ensuing melee, and have never been recovered.