The dark mass of the fort with its regular lines loomed over the end of the Sciberras peninsula. There was a faint orange loom from the flames of the braziers and cooking fires burning in the courtyard, but no sign of the sentries on duty along the wall. There had been many losses caused by Turkish snipers before the defenders learned to risk only fleeting glances above the parapet, or to find a sheltered place along the wall where they could lie full length on the parapet and keep watch. Even so, there were occasional flashes from the ground in front of the fort as a sniper shot at any movement detected on the wall. Further back, the Turkish engineers continued digging their trenches by the flickering light of torches, behind the cover of their barricades. Up on the ridge, where the two batteries were sited, the guns continued firing through the night. Each round shattered the darkness with a lurid red glare that illuminated a tableau of the men toiling past the batteries with wicker baskets filled with soil and rock to help build up the sides of the trenches, before the night shrouded the scene once more - until the next gun fired.
Thomas could not help admiring the efficiency with which the Turks pressed on with their siege. In the years that he had served the Order he had mostly fought them at sea, and only heard accounts of their wider military prowess from the handful of older knights and soldiers who had faced Suleiman’s army at Rhodes. There was no question that their technical skills far exceeded those of most of the armies Thomas had faced on European soil. Only the superior armour of the knights, their long experience of conflict and devotion to their cause weighed against the numerable advantages enjoyed by the Turks.
At the end of May La Valette gathered his advisers at noon to hear grim news. The small council sat round the table in his study. A small scroll of paper lay on the table beside the hollowed-out cow horn into which it had been sealed with wax. La Valette’s dogs, as usual, lay at his feet under the table. Trained to run with the Grand Master’s hunt, they were used to firearms and no longer barked at the sound of the enemy’s cannon, unlike the other dogs in Birgu.
‘I have received a despatch from Don Garcia. It came via Mdina and a local goatherd who swam across the harbour. The Viceroy tells me that the reinforcements he was expecting from Genoa have been delayed,’ La Valette said in a voice tinged with bitterness. ‘Don Garcia reports that we can expect to be relieved no earlier than the end ofjuly. We are ordered to hold out until then.’
‘July?’ Colonel Mas let out a sigh of frustration. ‘Another two months? I doubt that St Elmo will last another two weeks, and then the Turks will turn on Birgu.’ He paused to make a rapid calculation. ‘With our defences in the state they are we must expect St Michael and Birgu to fall within a month of the loss of St Elmo. In that event, we will have to make a final stand here, in this fort. With luck we might still hold St Angelo when Don Garcia and the relief force eventually land on Malta.’
‘That would be lucky indeed,’ La Valette replied. He raised a hand to attract the attention of the servant who had been standing silently by the door. ‘Bring in Captain Medrano.’
There was the briefest delay before a tall officer with a neatly clipped beard entered the study and strode towards the table. He was wearing a breastplate tarnished where it had scraped against masonry and Thomas could see that his jerkin was stained with sweat and grime. His eyes had the sunken lustreless look of an exhausted man and his hair was streaked grey with dust.
‘A chair for the captain,’ La Valette ordered and the servant hurriedly brought one to the table. Medrano sat down stiffly and folded his hands together in his lap as the Grand Master introduced him.
‘I doubt that any of you have met the captain before. He arrived a few days before the Turks and was assigned to the garrison of St Elmo immediately. He is one of La Cerda’s senior officers. He has been sent to us to deliver a report on conditions across the harbour. Captain?’ La Valette invited him to address the war council.
‘Yes, sir.’ Medrano nodded. He cleared his throat and began speaking in the clear, direct tones of a professional soldier.
‘The commander of the fort begs me to inform you that the situation at St Elmo is critical. The ravelin is close to collapse, as is the south-west corner of the fort. The south-east corner will not endure much longer. The enemy trenches are less than fifty paces from the outer ditch and we can expect them to make their first assault within the next two days. There is nothing that we can do to hamper their progress. The moment any of our men appear above the parapet they are shot down by the Janissaries. We lost twenty men to snipers just yesterday. As a result we are forced to crawl behind the cover of the parapet and try to build up some makeshift battlements with stones taken from the rubble on the corners of the fort. That’s a dangerous business, given the continual bombardment. The morale of the men is low. They have had little rest, and stand by their arms at all times in case the enemy attempts a sudden assault on the fort. My commander estimates that the fort can hold out for eight more days. Ten at the outside, sir,’ he concluded.
‘Ten days is not good enough, Captain,’ La Valette responded. ‘You and your comrades must buy the rest of us more time. We have heard today that there will be no outside help for two months. Every day that you can hold on increases the chance that our Holy Order will survive. La Cerda must not give up the fight.’
‘What does La Cerda want from us?’ asked Thomas.
‘Sir?’
‘I presume that he would not have you risk your life by crossing the harbour in daylight just to report on conditions in the fort. What else did he say? What does he want?’
Medrano lowered his gaze momentarily. ‘La Cerda asks for permission to evacuate the fort. He says that the wounded can be loaded into boats sent over from this side of the harbour after nightfall. After that he will gradually thin out the men behind the wall. Any weapons and equipment that cannot be removed will be thrown down the well and the cisterns will be fouled. The last men to leave the fort will fire the fuses to the charges set in the powder store. Nothing of use will be left to fall into enemy hands.’
‘I see.’ La Valette nodded. ‘And when does La Cerda intend to plan to abandon the fort?’
‘Tonight, sir - if you give the order.’
‘Out of the question! There will be no evacuation. You will tell La Cerda that when you return to the fort. He still has over six hundred men under arms. It is unthinkable that he should abandon his position so early in the siege. It is a shameful request. Shameful! Do you hear?’
‘Yes, sir.’ Medrano bowed his head. He hesitated a moment before he added, ‘I agree.’
La Valette stared at him and then spoke in a gentle tone. ‘Thank you, Captain. That is the kind of resolve that is needed. Tell me, in your opinion what can we do to help St Elmo hold out as long as possible?’
Medrano considered for a moment before he replied. ‘Fresh men, sir. To steady the nerves of the garrison and to show them that they have not been abandoned. Send them some coin and wine too. There’s nothing that soldiers like more than the feel of coins in their purses. There’s an empty storeroom where a few gaming tables can be set up, and wine can be sold. That will help to divert thoughts of their predicament.’
‘Very well, I shall see that it is done.’
Colonel Mas leaned forward. ‘There are other measures we can take to ensure the fort holds out as long as possible. Certain weapons that we have been holding back for the defence of Birgu. It might be better to surprise the enemy with them now, sir.’
‘You mean the fire hoops and the naphtha throwers?’
‘ Yes, sir. If we add those to the incendiaries that La Cerda has at his disposal I am sure we can make the enemy pay a high price for St Elmo, and hold them off for longer than La Cerda’s estimate.’ The Grand Master folded his hands together and weighed up the suggestion. At length he nodded. ‘Very well, see to it that the fort is supplied. As for men, we will send another hundred and fifty of the mercenaries across. There is one other matter. La Cerda is clearly
not fit to retain command. We need to replace him with someone equal to the task that lies ahead. In the meantime I appoint you, Captain Medrano, as commander of the fort. I will have your orders drafted at once so that you can take them with you.’ He paused a moment. ‘Juan de La Cerda has served the Order faithfully in the past and is a good knight. Relieved of the burden of command
I am confident that he will fight well. I will not add to his humiliation unnecessarily. He is to remain with the garrison. Find him a less onerous responsibility, Captain.’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘Very well, you may leave us. Wait outside while my clerk drafts your orders. Then return to St Elmo at once, before La Cerda undermines the courage of those he commands any further.’
Medrano rose from his chair and left the room. La Valette briefly dictated the details of the new arrangement to his clerk, then signed the order before the clerk left the room to hand the document to the waiting captain.
La Valette sighed. ‘I need to find the right man for St Elmo. One who knows he is going to a certain death and does so without hesitation. He must also be determined to make the enemy pay as dearly as possible. He must not be a hothead but a man of cold reason. Not another La Riviere. He must also be a man whom others will follow with the same sense of duty and inevitability about the outcome.’
‘Such men are rare, sir,’ said Mas. ‘I do not count myself among their number, but if you wish it, I will take up the command.’
‘I expected no less of you, Colonel. But for now you best serve the interests of the Order on this side of the harbour. Once St Elmo falls, as it must, it will take every effort of the best of us to hold the line here.’
‘What about Sir Thomas?’ asked Stokely. ‘He has the necessary military experience, and he has proved that he has steady enough nerves by capturing that Turkish officer and leading La Riviere’s men safely back to Birgu.’
La Valette looked at Thomas questioningly. ‘Well? Do you volunteer?’
Thomas shot a bitter glance at Stokely before he faced the Grand Master. There was no question about his response, but he needed a moment to accept the implications. He would never see Maria again. Never make his peace with her and perhaps more. And he might doom Richard’s mission to failure, even if his squire was spared the fate of accompanying him to St Elmo. If what he had been told about the document was true, the consequences of failure would be dreadful back in England. There were so many sound reasons to refuse La Valette, and only one reason to accept. One that was all that was ever asked of a knight.
‘I would be honoured to volunteer, sir.’
La Valette met his gaze for a moment and then smiled. ‘You passed the test, Sir Thomas. Yet I must decline your offer, despite the cogent arguments of Sir Oliver. I have no doubt about your ability to take up the command but for now I need you here. The command must go to another. I will think on it. Captain Medrano will suffice for a few days. He is a good man, but not quite the ruthless martyr that is needed. Now, there is work to be done here in Birgu. I call this meeting to an end.’
‘Sir, there is one other matter,’ Stokely intervened. ‘As we discussed earlier.’
A pained expression briefly crossed the Grand Master’s face before he nodded. ‘Of course. Thank you for reminding me, Sir Oliver.’
La Valette clicked his fingers and in an instant Apollo and Achilles had leaped to their feet and were nuzzling his fingers, tails wagging. He smiled fondly as he caressed their muzzles and then he drew a heavy breath.
‘It’s the dogs, they never stop barking at the guns. It is wearing the nerves of those in Birgu and Senglea. Sir Oliver believes it would be best if they were silenced.’
Colonel Mas’s brow creased. ‘Silenced?’
‘Besides disrupting our people’s sleep they are consuming rations,’ said Stokely. ‘It will go hard on those affected but there may come a time when we will have to dispose of them anyway. Better now, and save food that we may need later.’
‘It will go hard indeed,’ La Valette said gently as he stroked his hounds.
‘Of course there is no need to include your dogs, sir,’ Stokely cut in quickly. ‘Or at least these two, your favourites. It will make litde difference if they are spared.’
‘Perhaps.’ La Valette ran his gnarled fingers across the ears of the nearest hound.
Thomas was watching the Grand Master closely. This was an opportunity to open the route to the chest where a document vital to the safety of England was stored. He cleared his throat and shook his head sadly. ‘Sir, it will make a great deal of difference if these two are spared. At present the knights and the people stand side by side. We share the same dangers and privations. That is our strength. That is what binds us. We should not jeopardise that common feeling by being exempted from those edicts the Grand Master imposes upon the generality. If their dogs are to be silenced, then all dogs must share the same fate. Even these two, who are your favourites.’
‘Yes, they are . . .’ La Valette said quietly.
The beasts sensed that they were being praised and their tails wagged as they looked up at their master with adoring eyes. La Valette tore his gaze away and clasped his hands together under his chin.
‘Take them!’ he commanded his servant. ‘Take them back to the kennels with the others and see that it is done at once.’
The servant approached the table and took them each by the collar and drew them away from their master. As they reached the door, Apollo twisted his heavy head round and looked one last time at his master before being willingly led from the room for the last time. After the door had closed no one spoke for a moment. Then Thomas coughed lightly.
‘I am sorry, sir. It seemed to be for the best. I wish it had been otherwise.’
‘Yes, well, it is a necessary evil,’ La Valette responded in a matter- of-fact tone. ‘And they are only dogs, after all. The smallest of sacrifices to be expected of us in the days to come. The meeting is over, gentlemen. Please leave. ’
His advisers rose to their feet and filed out of the study. Thomas was the last to go, and he paused at the door and saw that the old man was staring at the floor where his dogs had been lying shortly before. It had gone hard with him to insist on the destruction of the old man’s hounds, yet they had barred the way to the archives and would have to be dealt with one way or another.
‘Only dogs,’ Thomas said under his breath as he closed the door quietly behind him.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
On the second day of June, at dawn, the lookouts on the towers of St Angelo sighted fresh sails approaching the island. La Valette was holding his morning council on the platform above the keep and they watched thirteen galleys steer towards the entrance to the harbour, before they turned north-west to anchor close to the shore. The lead galley was richly draped with an emerald-green awning embroidered with stars and crescent moons. From the Turks waiting on the shore a cry rose up, repeated over and over.
‘Turgut! Turgut!’
Richard had attended with some of the other squires and turned to Thomas with an arched brow. ‘Turgut?’
‘Their name for the corsair we call Dragut.’
‘It is an ill day indeed,’ La Valette said. ‘Of all the men Suleiman could send against us, this one I fear most of all. He is as much a legend to the enemy as he is a demon to the Christian world. His men revere him and his worth on the battlefield is incalculable. And he brings thirteen galleys laden with his corsairs as well.’
‘This will not sit well with our people,’ said Stokely. ‘Soon every man, woman and child in Birgu will know that Dragut has joined the Turks. Something needs to be done to strengthen the resolve of our people, sir.’
La Valette nodded gravely. ‘And now, more than ever, we need to place our faith in the Lord our God and beg for his mercy and salvation.’
Dragut was rowed ashore in his gilded barge, and the cheers of the enemy reached a fresh crescendo as he stepped ashore. His procession around the northern h
arbour was screened by the bulk of St Elmo and the Sciberras peninsula yet the jubilant welcome of the Turks could clearly be heard from the battlements of St Angelo.
The sounds were briefly overwhelmed by the crash of the siege guns as they continued to bombard St Elmo without interruption. The once neat lines of the walls had been broken down by heavy iron shot and rubble partially filled the ditch facing the Turks. Only the cavalier tower to the rear of the fort seemed wholly intact. The steady crash of shot into the walls of the fort filled the air with a brown pall of dust that hung in the air like a shroud when the breeze dropped during the hottest hours of the day. The flags marking the extent of the enemy’s trenches were now no more than ten paces from the wall and La Cerda’s prediction seemed to be vindicated, Thomas reflected.
The Grand Master had given orders to provide the defenders with as much support as possible. Each night boats slipped across the harbour carrying supplies and returned with the wounded. The Turks, through carelessness or simple arrogance, had not yet interfered with the passage of the boats. Even though the defenders were under constant bombardment, they were ready to face the assaults that would follow the moment the first breach appeared in the walls.
The man that La Valette had chosen to become the fort’s new commander was Captain Miranda, a veteran Spanish soldier. When he had been presented to the war council Thomas had been impressed by Miranda’s outline of his plans for the defence of the fort. Colonel Mas had recommended him as a cool-headed and decisive leader, plain-speaking and, most important of all, the kind of man who inspired those he led.
As they waited for the first enemy assault the defenders were huddled below the remains of the parapet, grouped in threes, two arquebusiers to each man armed with a pike. Clay pots filled with incendiary materials were stacked at regular intervals. A handful of the dangerous naphtha bellows were readied for use on the cavalier — terrifying weapons that shot jets of liquid fire that consumed any man in their path. To complete the arsenal of the defenders, fire hoops were ferried across and placed on the walls, ready for use.
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