Sword and Scimitar - Scarrow Simon - Страница 25

Before Thomas was able to probe any further the door opened and a heavily built man in his fifties entered. His hair was grey and thinning and his beard clipped close on his ponderous jowls. The eyes, however, were lively and alert and he scrutinised the two Englishmen rising from their chairs. Fadrique entered behind him and made the introductions.

‘His Excellency Captain General at Sea of his most Catholic Majesty King Philip of Spain and Viceroy of Sicily, Don Garcia Alvarez de Toledo.’

Don Garcia advanced towards them and stopped just out of reach as Thomas made to reply with a dignified bow. ‘It is an honour to meet you, sir. Sir Thomas Barrett, and his squire Richard Hughes, at your service.’

‘Fadrique tells me that you are travelling to Malta.’ Don Garcia spoke softly with a faint lisp. ‘You are answering La Valette’s call to arms.’

‘That is so.’ Thomas nodded.

‘Then you are most welcome, Sir Thomas. Particularly given your hard-won reputation on the battlefields of Europe.’ Don Garcia smiled warmly.

Thomas was mildly surprised that his reputation was known in Barcelona. He smiled modestly. ‘That was some years ago.’

‘Experience is everything in warfare.’

‘Almost. But numbers play their part.’

Don Garcia patted Thomas on the arm. ‘I trust your journey has been untroubled thus far.’

Visions of the storms that they had battled on the voyage to Spain passed fleetingly before Thomas’s mind’s eye but he suppressed them and nodded. ‘We have made good time, sir, given the season.’ Don Garcia looked at him shrewdly. ‘The Atlantic in winter can be like a wild beast. You have done well to reach us. And it is good that you have. Every man will be needed to bolster the defences of Malta. But pardon me, you must be weary.’ He waved a hand towards the chairs. ‘Sit, please. I did not mean to interrupt your meal.’

Once the four men were seated, Thomas pushed aside his plate, the food upon it untouched. He indicated to Richard to do the same, as it would be unseemly for the squire to eat alone in front of his superiors.

‘Sir Thomas, forgive me if I avoid the usual niceties and come directly to the point. I have little time before I sail for Malta. What do you know of the situation?’

‘Only what I was told by the knight who brought the summons to me in England, sir. He said that the Grand Master had intelligence of the Sultan’s plan to take Malta and eradicate the Order of St John once and for all.’

‘That is so.’ Don Garcia nodded. ‘He must secure Malta to protect his supply line. And that is where we must hold him. I have no doubt about his wider strategy. For many years Suleiman, and his corsair allies, have been extending their influence throughout the western Mediterranean. Every spring we have been watching the eastern horizon, waiting for the assault, but they have been content merely to probe the coasts of Italy, France and Spain, seizing our ships, or raiding coastal villages and small towns for slaves. There has been little that we could do to prevent it. By the time we receive a report and despatch a fleet to the scene, the enemy has slipped away. Meanwhile, I have been doing all in my power to ready our defences and prepare our galleys for the onslaught when it comes, as it must. Now that time is upon us. There is no question of it. Our spy in Istanbul has seen the enemy’s preparations at first hand. Galleys and galleons are massing in the Golden Horn, while daily wagons enter the city with powder, shot, siege tools and rations. Outside the walls, tens of thousands of soldiers have gathered to await the order to embark.’ He sat back and rested his hands on the arms of the chair. ‘There is no question that the Turks are coming. This is the moment I have long dreaded. This is the year when our faith must make a stand or fall under the shadow of the crescent.’

‘Then we shall make our stand,’ Thomas said firmly, ‘and if the Order is wiped out, then the manner in which we face our destruction will inspire the rest of Christendom to match our example.’

‘I pray that you are right, Sir Thomas. If the rulers of Europe do not make common cause against the greater threat then we are lost. Our people will be forced to kneel before the false religion. It is a small mercy that none of us at this table will live to see that day. I swear before you that I will die with a sword in my hand, and Jesu’s blessed name on my bloodied lips, ere I kiss the foot of Suleiman.’

‘So swear we all,’ Thomas replied and crossed himself.

There was a brief stillness before Don Garcia spoke again. ‘I have chosen to concentrate my forces on Sicily. His Majesty has informed the other powers of Europe that if they wish to be allied to our great cause they must send their men and their ships to join us in Sicily. With good fortune I shall have enough galleys at my disposal to face Suleiman’s fleet. I will also be able to sail south if he strikes at Malta first, and north if he lands in Italy.’

‘A wise plan, sir,’ Thomas agreed.

‘Wise? Yes.’ Don Garcia smiled. ‘But unless I receive all the forces that I have been promised, we can have little hope of victory.’ Fadrique cleared his throat. ‘However few our numbers, we shall always have God on our side. We cannot be defeated. Our Lord is all-powerful and would not permit it.’

His father looked at him indulgently. ‘Of course you are right.’ Then he turned back to Thomas. ‘I leave for Sicily tomorrow with six galleys, escorting four galleons carrying the first two thousand men to establish my base of operations. I will go from there to Malta to confer with La Valette. I would be pleased to offer you and your squire a place on my flagship.’

‘That is most generous of you, sir.’

‘Then be aboard by first light. We sail at dawn.’ Don Garcia rose from his chair and the others followed suit. ‘Now you will have to excuse me. There are still many details to attend to. Fadrique will see to it that you are provided with quarters here in the citadel, and stabling for your horses.’

‘They are not mine, but the property of your King, loaned to us by the port master in Bilbao.’

‘Then they can be impressed into my army. Now, I bid you good day, gentlemen. Please, finish your meal and rest. Come, Fadrique!’

Despite his bulk Don Garcia moved with great energy and strode swiftly from the room, his son hurrying after him. The door closed behind them and their footsteps faded. Richard drew his plate back across the table and continued eating for a moment before he spoke quietly. ‘The odds against us are not encouraging.’

Thomas shrugged. ‘That has always been the case as far as the Order is concerned. Throughout its history.’

‘The heroic ideal,’ Richard mused. ‘Or perhaps a way to add glory to a suicidal compulsion.’

‘Still your tongue. You know not of what you speak. The men of the Order are sworn to fight for the glory of God, and no other purpose. Suicide is a sin, and well you know it.’ Thomas restrained his irritation and continued in a wry tone. ‘Besides, as Don Garcia’s son said, God will be on our side.’

‘Yes, a divine change of heart would be welcome. He did not seem to be in evidence when Suleiman took Rhodes from the Order. And where was he when the Order was almost wiped out at the fall of Acre? What makes you think he will stand behind you, behind us, at Malta?’

‘It can do our cause no harm to put faith in the Lord,’ Thomas replied, though he shared Richard’s doubts. He looked up to see the younger man watching him closely.

‘I wonder, if it is God’s will to heap such sorrow on those who worship Him, I cannot help but question His purpose.’

‘Be careful, Richard. That is blasphemous.’

‘It is only philosophy. My point is that both sides in the coming conflict are fighting in the name of their faiths. If the Turks win, does that mean that God has forsaken us, or that their faith is the more potent? If the faith of both sides is equally strong then this fight will be decided by men alone.’