Simon Scarrow - Sword and Scimitar

‘Are there any questions, gentlemen?’

Thomas spoke up. ‘Yes, sir. When do we leave?’

‘Hah!’ La Valette laughed deeply. ‘Can’t wait to test yourself against the Turk, eh? Marshal de Robles will be leading his men out of the gates of Birgu within the hour. You and La Riviere will move out three hours before dawn so that you can set your ambush under cover of darkness.’ He looked at each of them in turn. There were no more questions. ‘Good luck, gentlemen, and God be with you.’

Marshal de Robles led his men out of the office and La Riviere and Thomas followed. He introduced the French knight to Richard and explained their mission.

‘Return to the auberge and prepare our armour and weapons. I take it that we will be provided with mounts?’ Thomas asked La Riviere.

‘Of course. It would not do to have a knight walk into battle. There’ll be horses provided for both of you.’

‘I thank you.’ Thomas bowed his head and turned to address Richard. ‘Then there is nothing for me to do for the present. I’ll return to the auberge at midnight before we join the force inside the main gate of Birgu.’

‘Yes, sir. And where will you be until then?’

‘I have something I must attend to.’

‘Oh?’ La Riviere cocked an eyebrow. ‘What could be so important? Or perhaps I should ask, who could be so important?’

Thomas stared at him, concerned that his motives were so apparent. He faced the French knight with a firm expression. ‘It is personal business, and any knight who values his sense of honour should know better than to pry into it.’

The oarsman was about to settle down for a rest in the bottom of his boat when Thomas returned to the quay and ordered him to row back across the harbour. A handful of other craft were making the crossing as the late-aftemoon sun dipped towards the horizon. Some were carrying supplies out to St Elmo and returning laden with civilians anxious to reach the greater safety of Birgu. His heart felt light at the prospect of seeing Maria, and sharing a few hours with her before he had to return and prepare for La Riviere’s raid. The earlier awkwardness had been caused by his shock at finding her alive, and not knowing what he wanted to say to her. Now he felt confident that they would be able to talk more freely and he would discover what had become of Maria during the intervening years and whether she still held true to the intense feeling they had once shared.

As the boat reached the tiny strip of shingle below the fort, Thomas did not wait for it to beach but leaped over the bows and splashed into the shallows. He surged ashore and ran to the path that wound up the rocky cliff to the fort. The courtyard was already in shadow and there were hundreds of Maltese crammed within, and more were arriving through the passage from the main gate. There was fear in the expressions of all gathered there; some were weeping and many others were on their knees praying earnestly to be delivered from the wrath of the Turks. Thomas threaded his way through them as he made his way across the courtyard to the chapel. The large door was open and the glitter of many candles was visible inside. The benches of the chapel were filled with more of the devout, praying fervently. Thomas’s eyes searched for Maria but could not see the green of her cloak anywhere. He walked slowly down the aisle, looking closely to each side, but there was no sign of her. With a growing sense of anxiety he approached a priest who had just emerged from the confession box.

‘Father, I’m looking for a woman. She should have been here, where I told her to wait for me.’

‘A woman?’

Thomas nodded. ‘She was wearing a green cloak. She arrived not long after midday, with her household staff. I told her to wait here for me. Did you see her?’

‘Oh, yes. In fact she came to confession.’

‘Then where is she?’

‘She left.’

‘What?’ Thomas felt a stab of anxiety. ‘Where did she go?’

‘I don’t know. She didn’t say. All I know is that she seemed greatly disturbed, but then who wouldn’t be in the circumstances? She ordered those with her to gather up their belongings and then they left the chapel. That’s the last I saw of her.’

‘Did she leave any message for me?’

The priest looked at him. ‘And you are?’

‘Sir Thomas Barrett. A . . . friend of the lady.’

‘I see. No, there was no message.’

‘Nothing?’

‘Nothing. I’m sorry.’

‘And you have no idea where she went? Could she still be in the fort perhaps?’

‘I doubt it. I saw her party making for the main gate. My best guess is that they were making for the landing, to find some boats to take them across to Birgu. If you want to find her I suggest you look there. Now, if that’s all, I have to offer comfort to the refugees. Do you mind, sir?’

Thomas stood aside and let the priest pass. He felt sick in the pit of his stomach. Why had Maria not waited for him? Why had she left in a hurry? He could not think of any reason that did not carry the possibility that she did not want to see him. That was too dreadful a prospect to face and Thomas clung to the hope that there was a sound reason why she had felt compelled to leave the fort. Very well, then he must track her down. He would not be satisfied until he heard the truth about her feelings, either way, from her lips. One thing was certain. A fortress under siege was a small world. It would only be a matter of time before he found her.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

‘This will do.’ La Riviere held up his hand to halt the small column. It was still dark and the barely discernible shapes of the knights and foot soldiers were strung out behind them so that they did not stumble into each other. The knight behind the two leaders drew a breath to relay the command. ‘Column! Halt!’

Thomas turned swiftly in his saddle and hissed fiercely, ‘Quiet, you fool!’

‘Sorry, sir.’

Thomas turned his mount towards him. Peter Von Harsteiner Was a tall big-boned German with cropped dark hair. He had been keen to volunteer for the ambush party and clearly idolised La Riviere, which was why Thomas had been doubtful about including him. He would have preferred more seasoned soldiers who had experience in such work, but La Riviere had already chosen his men and cheerfully brushed aside the Englishman’s concerns. Thomas reined in close to the German and spoke gently.

‘Look here, Von Harsteiner, the Turks have already landed advance parties. Do you want to give us away?’

The German shook his head vigorously. ‘No, sir.’

‘The question was rhetorical,’ Thomas said wearily. ‘Just keep calm and keep quiet. Move slowly and carefully and do not speak unless you have to. I know your blood is up, but this work needs careful timing and self-control. Do you understand? That question uwsti't rhetorical.’

In the gloom Thomas saw the German’s amused smile. ‘I understand.’

'Good lad.’ He pulled the reins and walked the horse back along- side La Riviere and spoke in an undertone. ‘Impetuous, but willing to learn. Be sure to position him where he can’t do us any harm.’

‘Oh, he’ll be no problem,’ the French knight replied dismissively as he surveyed the surrounding landscape. The column had been advancing along a narrow lane bordered by the waist-high stone walls that were a common feature of the island. On either side the ground was broken by outcrops of rock and stunted bushes. A small farm building loomed ahead and the odour of swine carried on the night air. Beyond, the lane rose to a low ridge that overlooked one of the bays on the southern coast.

‘We’ll deploy on either side of the lane,’ La Riviere decided. ‘Let the Turks wander into the trap and then attack them from the flanks. The arquebusiers can open fire and then the mounted men can charge home. Should be over very quickly.’