Sword and Scimitar

by Simon Scarrow

  ‘I gave you the bread, not him. Why did you share it?’

  The slave looked up. ‘Because I chose to . . . master. That is one freedom I still have.’

  His accent was familiar and Thomas was curious to discover more about a slave who spoke like a native of England yet was a Muslim slave.

  ‘Where are you from?’

  ‘Tripoli, master. I was the bodyguard of a merchant, until his ship was captured by one of your galleys.’

  ‘And how does a slave from Tripoli come to speak English?’

  ‘I was born in Devon, master. On the coast.’

  ‘Devon?’ Thomas raised his eyebrows. ‘Then what the devil are you doing here?’

  The slave lowered his gaze as he spoke. ‘I was nine when a corsair ship raided our village, master. They killed my father and several other men, and took the women and children to sell in the slave market at Algiers. I never saw my mother again. I was kept by the corsair captain. He raised me, trained me to fight and then sold me to the merchant.’

  ‘And converted you to Islam?’

  The slave nodded. ‘It is my faith.’

  Sir Martin spat with disgust. ‘A traitor to your own kind is what you are!’

  The slave flinched and seemed to shrink under the harsh rebuke.

  Thomas squatted down in front of him. ‘What is your name?’

  ‘Abdul, master.’

  ‘I meant your real name. Your Christian name?’

  ‘My name is Abdul,’ the slave said firmly. ‘Abdul-Ghafur. I am no Christian. I am a Muslim.’

  Thomas met his gaze and for a moment the slave stared back as a man, defiant and proud, before he wavered and slumped back into himself.

  ‘Is there no part of you that remains from your previous life? After all, you still speak your mother tongue.’

  The slave shrugged his bony shoulders. ‘There are memories, but that was another life. Before I was shown the truth through the teachings of Mohammed, peace be upon him.’

  ‘And yet this is the reward won by your faith.’ Thomas gestured at the other wretched creatures hunched nearby. ‘You have become a slave. Renounce Islam and you could be free, and return to your home in Devon.’

  ‘There is no home for me there. The boy I was then is no more, Hospitaller. I am now Abdul. In due course I will be the master and you will be the slave. Then perhaps I might return your kindness and offer you a crust.’

  Thomas smiled mildly. ‘You think that the Sultan will take this island?’

  ‘How can he not? He has God on his side. The faith of his soldiers is stronger than yours, and those who fight with you. The outcome is certain and only a fool would doubt it. I, and the other Muslim slaves, will be set free. Those Christians who still live will be put in chains and sold in the markets of the Sultan. The leader of your Order will be executed and his head will be thrust upon a spear and mounted high enough for all in Istanbul to see and know that God is great.’ The slave’s eyes glittered with fanaticism as he spoke and there was a harsh, cruel edge to his voice. Then his expression softened and he addressed Thomas earnestly.

  ‘Save yourself, while there is still time. Leave this place, master. What does it profit an Englishman to fight and die so far from home? Get out, before the iron fist of the Sultan closes around this rock and crushes it to dust.’

  ‘You might ask yourself the same question. In any case . . .’ Thomas scooped up a stone the size of a plum and held it up in front of the slave’s eyes. Then he placed his other hand over the stone and clasped his hands together with all his strength, grimacing as the hard edges pressed into his palms. He held his hands there for a while before he relaxed with a gasp and eased them apart. The stone lay as before, and the skin of Thomas’s hands was impressed with marks of its edges. ‘There. The rock is unbroken and your Sultan shall be no more successful than I, when his fleet descends on Malta. Think on that.’

  Thomas stood up and returned to his comrades. Sir Martin let out a deep laugh and clapped his hands together. ‘Oh, that showed him. You put the cocky little beggar in his place, Sir Thomas. Well done!’ He picked up a pebble and lobbed it at the slave who flinched as it bounced off his shoulder. ‘You’ll rue the day you ever betrayed England! Mai si le das la fe falsa del Islam, as they say in Spain.’

  The slave who called himself Abdul-Ghafur glared back with cold loathing and muttered something under his breath before he looked down at his feet again. Sir Martin smiled with satisfaction and chewed another mouthful of cheese and bread before washing it down with a gulp of the watered wine. He regarded Thomas out of the corner of his eye for a moment before he cleared his throat.

  ‘There’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you, Sir Thomas. For some weeks now.’

  ‘Oh?’

  ‘Yes, well, it’s about the, uh, circumstances relating to your leaving the Order a while back . . . some years before my time, you understand.’

  ‘Really,’ Thomas said evenly. ‘What would you ask of me that you don’t already know? I assume you have approached some of the other knights about my personal business.’

  Sir Martin puffed his cheeks and tilted his head to one side. ‘I have spoken to a few, yes. Of course there aren’t that many fellows who were around in your day.’

  ‘But enough to give you the necessary details, I’ll be bound.’

  ‘They were fairly tight-lipped, as it happens. All I got from them was that a woman was involved and there was something of a scandal and that you had brought dishonour on the Order. ’

  ‘Then you have it all. There is no more that needs to be said.’ Thomas gestured towards the open sea. ‘I think we have more pressing problems, Sir Martin. The Turks could be upon us at any moment. That is surely what we should be fixing our minds on. Not events from many years ago.’

  The other knight opened his mouth to reply, paused briefly, then let out an exasperated breath and rose to his feet. ‘Need to relieve myself. Back soon.’ He turned and strode off across the stony terrain towards the shallow latrine ditch that had been dug a hundred paces beyond the ravelin’s defence ditch. Thomas bit into what was left of his cheese ration and chewed on its woody texture. Opposite him Richard swept the crumbs off his tunic and glanced round quickly before he spoke in an undertone.

  ‘I think it’s time that you told me the whole story.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Because I need to know. If my mission here is to succeed then I have to be aware of any potential dangers, or advantages, that might affect the outcome.’

  ‘And I suppose you might make good use of any information

  that might help you to have some kind of hold over me?’

  ‘Of course,’ Richard replied flatly. ‘That is the nature of my employment.’

  ‘Then have you ever questioned the ethics of that employment? Perhaps you should.’

  ‘I serve Sir Francis, who serves Cecil, and both serve our Queen and country. Therefore my ethics are beyond reproach. And nothing will stand between me and my purpose here.’

  ‘Come now, Richard. You are not quite the iron man you pretend to be. You are well trained, but your feeling for others has not been trained out of you. I saw that clear enough in the fight on the galley. And again just now when you considered the plight of that slave.’ Thomas leaned over and tapped his squire’s breast. ‘You have a heart. Don’t try and starve it of nourishment, else you will cease to be a man and become a mere device.’

  Richard glanced over towards the latrine ditch where Sir Martin was already squatting down.

  ‘Tell me exactly what happened, before he comes back,’ he demanded.

  ‘If I refuse?’

  ‘Then you compromise my mission.’

  ‘And what if I don’t care about that?’

  Richard smiled shrewdly. ‘But you do care. I, too, can peer into another man’s heart. If we fail to fulfill our task then many others will suffer. That is something you, Sir Thomas, will not conscience. So tell me what I want to know.’


  There was a tense silence before Thomas bowed his head and thought. Little needed to be kept secret and in any case, he could surely find out the details if he was diligent in his enquiries. Thomas ordered his memories before he began. ‘Very well. Some twenty years ago I was serving with one of the Order’s galleys off the coast of Crete. La Valette was the captain. It was clear that he was destined for one of the senior posts in the Order and it was considered an honour to be chosen to serve on his galley. It had been an uneventful voyage, we had had no luck in finding any Turkish shipping. Then we put into a port on the south coast and discovered that a galleon had passed by the day before so La Valette set off in pursuit. By the time we tracked them down to an isolated bay further along the coast they had been joined by two corsair galleys. As you have seen, the Grand Master is not the kind of man who is discouraged by unfavourable odds, so he launched a surprise attack just before sunrise. We sank one galley and captured the galleon and the other galley. I was placed in command of the galley and ordered to return to Malta. It was as we were searching the hold that we came across a captive, a woman.’ Thomas paused as he felt the familiar longing in his breast. ‘Maria was the daughter of a Neapolitan noble and betrothed to the son of an aristocratic family on Sardinia. Her ship had been taken by the corsairs and she was to be held for ransom.’

  Thomas looked at Richard, feeling foolish as he continued. ‘I tell you I had never seen such a woman in my life. She was slight and darkly featured with the most beautiful brown eyes. It would not be honest to say that my first thought was of love. I was just flesh and blood, despite my vows to the Order - not that many knights strictly observed their vows. Indeed, I was not the only one captured by her charms. However, there was some spark of deeper affection between us from the outset. If you had a cynical nature you would no doubt be smiling at what you consider to be my naive feelings, scoffing at the folly of youth, but I tell you, with all my heart and experience of life, that she is the one real love I have ever known. I had never felt the fierceness of such feeling before then, and the barely endurable ache of it ever since. I tell you, Richard, love is forever balanced between a paradise of passion and infernal torment. That is its price . . . and it is the price I freely paid at the time and have regretted ever since.’ Thomas winced and shook his head. ‘No. That is not my regret. My regret is that I was not stronger.’

  He was silent for a moment, struggling to restrain the rage and self-loathing that threatened to consume him.

  ‘Go on,’ Richard coaxed coldly. ‘Tell all.’

  Thomas gritted his teeth and snatched a deep breath with a soft hiss. ‘We loved unwisely, and without restraint, during the summer months, while word was sent to her family that she had been found and was safe. We both knew the danger of what we did but could not master our desires. So we met in secret, or so I thought, until La Valette ordered me to cease contact with her. Of course I did not. And the inevitable happened. We were discovered together one night. I say discovered, but we were not. Maria had been spied upon and followed, by Sir Oliver Stokely, who had thought himself a rival for her affections because she had shown him kindness. But that had been her nature. She was kind to all. He considered it a token of something more, something he would have had, were it not for me. So he gathered some men at arms as witnesses and caught us together. We were arrested and taken before the Grand Master of the time.’

  ‘And then?’

  Thomas rubbed his brow. ‘The fault is mine. I should have obeyed orders, and I should have been aware of the danger Maria faced as a consequence of our affections. Even La Valette could not save me from expulsion, and I would not save myself. I did not deserve any form of clemency, and I did not deserve her love. Because of me her life was ruined. Her family disowned her. I never saw her again. I was put on a galleon and taken to Spain and ordered never to set foot on Malta, nor attempt to find Maria. La Valette sent me one last private message, that he would attempt to have me recalled when the time was right. And so I waited. Year after year. Wondering if Maria lived, if I would ever be permitted to rejoin my comrades. My hopes dying by a tiny but incremental measure each day. Until the summons arrived.’ Thomas breathed in deeply to release the tension in his chest. ‘This is my chance for redemption. It is too late for me to make good what I did to Maria, but I might yet prove worthy of the life that has been given to me.’

  Thomas glanced up and saw that Sir Martin was making his way back from the latrine ditch. There was little time left to say any more for the present. He turned back towards his squire but before he could speak the sharp blast of a trumpet cut through the still air. Up on the wall of the fort Colonel Mas leaned forward on his hands and bellowed, ‘The break’s over! Back to work!’

  The slave overseers picked up their whips made from the dried penises of bulls and set about driving the slaves back on to their feet and down into the ditch. The other members of the work party stirred with weary groans, some still hurriedly finishing off their rations. Thomas placed his hand firmly on Richard’s arm.

  ‘Whatever happens here, do not dishonour yourself as I did. Whatever your masters have ordered you to do, only do what is right.’

  ‘And how will I know that?’

  ‘Trust your heart. Not your ambition.’

  Richard shook his head with a look of pity and pulled himself free of Thomas’s hand and reached for his pick. ‘I need neither heart nor ambition. I just do my duty. That is all that should concern a man. Perhaps if you had thought the same, you might have saved yourself from a life of torment, Sir Thomas.’

  ‘Upon my soul!’ Sir Martin puffed as he trotted up to them. ‘A fellow needs a break long enough to eat and perform his ablutions, eh? This won’t do.’

  He glanced at them both, noting the sullen expression on the squire’s face and the anxiety etched in Thomas’s features.

  ‘What? What’s happened?’

  ‘Nothing,’ Thomas replied, forcing himself to tame his emotions. ‘Nothing at all. Let’s to work. We live in the shadow of the Turk and there’s still much to be done.’

  He took up his pick and set off after Richard. Sir Martin watched them for a moment, and quietly tutted to himself.

  ‘What irks them so? By God, there’s enough peril already without having private conflicts to settle.’

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  There was a surprise for them when they returned to the auberge that evening. Seated at the head of the long table in the hall was Sir Oliver Stokely, waited on by Jenkins. He looked up sourly from his platter of goat chops as the three men entered, faces streaked with grime and their clothes covered in dust from the ditch they had been cutting in front of the ravelin. There was a tense pause before Sir Martin broke the silence with a cheerful laugh.

  ‘Sir Oliver, you’ve not been to the auberge in months! I had thought you had abandoned me forever.’

  ‘I fear we may be obliged to endure each other’s company a good deal more in the days to come. When the Turks arrive I will have to quit my estate near Mdina.’ Sir Oliver gestured round the hall with his fork. ‘Birgu will be my home for the duration of any siege, though it lacks the comforts I am used to.’

  ‘It suits me well enough,’ Sir Martin replied as he untied the cords of his tunic and pulled it over his head and tossed the garment to Jenkins who caught it deftly. ‘Some food for the rest of us.’

  ‘Yes, master.’ Jenkins bowed his head then took the dusty tunics of the other two and retreated down the corridor towards the kitchen.

  ‘Needless to say,’ Sir Oliver continued, ‘I am not oveijoyed at the prospect of sharing accommodation with a knight who brought lasting shame upon the Order. But there is no helping it.’

  Thomas shrugged. ‘The past cannot be undone, no matter how much we both wish it.’ He sat on the bench halfway down the table. ‘Whatever once divided us should be set aside given the threat that faces us all, Sir Oliver.’

  ‘It is no easy matter to overlook the shame that hangs upon
you like a shroud,’ the other knight replied coldly. ‘As we both know, those who stand too close to you are bound to suffer. Perhaps it would be best if you left the island for good, Sir Thomas. Go now, while you still have the chance, and never return to plague us again.’

  ‘Go?’ Thomas cocked an eyebrow in mock surprise at the suggestion. ‘I came in answer to a summons from the Grand Master himself. I was recalled to the Order. It is fit and proper that I am here. You talk of my past dishonour, but that would be nothing compared to abandoning my comrades at this dark hour.’

  Sir Oliver’s lips lifted in a sneer. ‘I think we might do just as well, or as badly, without you. One knight and his squire cannot affect the outcome and will surely not be missed for more than a moment should they quit the island and return to England.’

  ‘We are not leaving,’ Richard intervened. ‘Not me, nor the noble knight I serve.’

  ‘Silence, whelp!’ Sir Oliver’s eyes widened angrily. ‘Your squire speaks out of turn. He knows his place and his obligations as poorly as you know your own, Sir Thomas.’

  ‘He is intemperate and foolish,’ Thomas replied. ‘But though he lacks some of the required obeisance before his betters, I value his courage and skill at arms. I believe that the present conflict will be the making of him and I would not deprive him of the honour of being here, any more than I would deprive myself, or you, or any of the few who stand their ground in the face of the many. However, he spoke out when he should have kept his silence and I apologise for his outburst. As will he.’

  ‘Apologise?’ Richard looked astonished. ‘I will not.’