Sword and Scimitar

Thomas waited for a moment before entering the narrow street and walking slowly past the gate. The walls were perhaps ten feet high and there were no obvious foot- or handholds. The gate itself was solid-looking and reinforced with lengths of oak. He walked on and then turned back and waited. It did not take long for others to enter the street and make for a neighbouring property. Thomas strode up to a rotund man who, like most of those who had attended the sermon, wore a sombre cloak.

‘I beg your pardon, sir,’ Thomas addressed him in French. ‘But I have a message to deliver to the house of an English knight.

‘I was told he lives in this street but I don’t know which house is his.’

‘Sir Oliver Stokely?’ The neighbour arched an eyebrow. ‘Yes, he lives here. That house, next to mine.’

‘I thank you, sir. But the message is not for him, but a lady. Maria, I believe she is called.’

‘Yes.’ The man nodded his head. ‘That would be his wife.’

‘Wife . . .’

The man tapped his nose. ‘What these knights claim to believe and what they do are as different as chalk and cheese, eh?’ Thomas was silent for a moment and the man frowned. ‘Is that all?’

‘Yes.’ Thomas forced a smile. ‘Thank you, sir. I’ll bid you good night. It’s late. I’ll deliver my message another time.’

He turned and walked away, back towards the auberge, his heart as heavy as a rock.

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

‘Thieves, right here in the heart of our defences.’ La Valette shook his head in consternation. ‘It’s an outrage. Whoever it was strolled into the fort and attempted to break into our archives last night. I give thanks to God that they did not account for the quality of the lock or they would have looted the place for whatever they could carry out of the castle. It’s a scandal, gentlemen.’ He looked round the table at his advisers. ‘Not only that but two of our men were injured in the process.’

There was a tense silence before Colonel Mas spoke. ‘We were lucky they weren’t killed, and lucky the lock held.’

‘Luck had nothing to do with it. That lock was made by one of the finest smiths in Paris, as were the locks on the treasury door. Monsieur Berthon assured me that they were impregnable.’

Thomas nodded thoughtfully, along with the others. Despite his apparent calm his heart was beating swiftly and he could feel the clammy sweat on the palms of his hands.

Stokely shot him a curious glance before returning his gaze to the Grand Master, who continued speaking.

‘I want these robbers found and made an example of. They will be shown no pity, regardless of what rank they hold. The same penalty will apply for all such crimes from now on. We are all in this together, those who serve the Order as well as the common people of Malta. Colonel, I want a reward posted on every main street in Birgu. A hundred gold pieces for the person who captures these criminals, or who can provide information that leads to their capture.’

‘Yes, sir.’ Colonel Mas nodded.

‘Very well, from now on I want the guard on the archive doubled, and also the main gate. This will not happen again.’ La

Valette slapped his hand down on the table. He stared round at the other men and then his expression began to soften. ‘We must address other matters now. Firstly, Sir Oliver, your report on the water supplies. I gather that we are consuming more water than anticipated.’

‘Indeed, sir. But there are additional problems. One of the cisterns under St Michael has been contaminated by seawater. There must be a crack somewhere that has allowed the sea to enter. As a result we have lost approximately one-eighth of our supply. I suggest that we begin rationing the water immediately. I know this will not be a popular—’

‘Shhh!’ Colonel Mas raised a hand to silence Stokely.

‘Colonel, I must protest.’

‘Quiet, listen.’ Colonel Mas gestured towards the window. ‘Something’s wrong.’

They had grown so used to the irregular rhythm of the gunfire from across the harbour that they had begun to ignore it. But now it had ceased.

Thomas knew at once the meaning behind the silence of the enemy guns. ‘They’re attacking St Elmo.’

Chairs scraped as everyone rushed to the windows and stared across the calm waters of the harbour towards the end of the Sciberras peninsula. The sound of drums and horns carried from the enemy trenches and Thomas could just make out the tiny figures of Janissaries rushing forward beneath a green ba

‘Look there.’ Colonel Mas raised his arm and pointed towards the end of the ravelin visible beyond the fort. ‘Is that an enemy ba

Thomas strained his eyes to pick out the detail through the shimmering air across the harbour. Sure enough, there was a ba

‘It’s the enemy,’ said Stokely. ‘They’ve taken the ravelin.’

La Valette shook his head. ‘Impossible! They’ve only just launched their attack. Quite impossible

Despite what was clear to his eyes, Thomas shared the Grand Master’s disbelief. The Turks would first have had to cross the ditch and deal with the obstacles there, then scale the walls of the ravelin before they even clashed with the defenders. Yet, incredibly, an enemy ba

Mas clenched his hands in frustration. ‘What the devil is going on over there? What is Miranda playing at?’

‘Send a boat across,’ La Valette ordered. ‘I want a report at once.’

‘Yes, sir,’ Mas nodded and hurried out of the study. The others continued to watch in growing despair as the enemy emerged from the ditch all along the front of the wall and began to plant their scaling ladders against the scarred exterior of the fort. Sunlight glittered off the armour and weapons of the men defending the parapet until flame and smoke obscured the view. Then only the fierce burst of incendiaries and the swirling blaze of fire hoops were briefly visible through the smoke and dust cloaking the fort.

Below, in the deep blue water of the harbour, Thomas saw a boat striking out across the light swell towards the small landing stage below the fort. The Maltese oarsmen rowed strongly and the boat surged forward. It was over halfway across the placid expanse of water before it drew the attention of the Turks. A handful of Janissary snipers turned their long barrels from the fort and trained them on the boat. Small spurts of water erupted in the sea ahead and to the side of the boat. Those watching from St Angelo shouted their encouragement and willed their comrades on. The enemy’s shots grew more accurate as the boat neared the opposite shore. Then one struck the prow of the boat and splinters burst into the air. An oarsman clasped his arm and his oar blade dropped, dragging the boat round until the man on the tiller corrected the course and bellowed at the injured man to take up his oar. Miraculously the small craft passed out of sight of the snipers as it drew close to the landing at the foot of a low cliff. The rowers slumped over their oars as the officer Mas had ordered to report on the attack clambered from the bows and raced up the steps cut into the rock and made for the entrance at the rear of the fort, close to the cavalier tower.