Simon Scarrow - Sword and Scimitar

‘If we deploy on both sides, isn’t there a risk that our men might fire on each other by mistake?’ Thomas said patiently.

‘You think so?’

‘I’ve heard of it happening.’

‘Hmmm. In that case we’ll deploy to the left. Arquebusiers in the centre and the mounted men on each flank. Once I give the signal, the men will open fire and we will charge on to the lane in front and behind the enemy and turn in to crush them like a vice. That should do the trick, eh?’

Thomas nodded.

While the men armed with arquebuses clambered over the wall and found positions with a good view over the road, the knights and their squires, eight in number, dismounted and led their horses into concealment. Once La Riviere and Thomas were satisfied that their small force was well deployed, they handed their mounts to Richard to hold for them and continued cautiously along the lane towards the crest half a mile beyond the ambush point. As they passed the farm they saw a small heap of pig carcasses hurriedly burned to leave as little as possible for the enemy. The acrid stench of charred meat filled the air and they hurried on. From their left came the occasional crackle of musket fire and the rattle of drums in the distance as Marshal de Robles and his men engaged the first of the Turks to land on the island near Marsaxlokk Bay. The surrounding countryside seemed still and quiet and Thomas was conscious of the noise that their footsteps made on the dry and dusty surface of the lane. They slowed down as they reached the crest and turned off the road, making for a jumble of rocks fifty yards away where they would be concealed while they watched for the enemy. As they rounded the largest boulder, the small bays of the southern coast came into view and La Riviere caught his breath and muttered a curse.

Even though the coming dawn was no more than a hint of lighter sky along the eastern horizon, the stars and the thin sliver of a crescent moon provided enough illumination to reveal at least a hundred ships hove to in the small bay directly before them. The dark blots of several small houses less than a mile away marked the location of the tiny fishing village at the end of the lane. Straining his eyes, Thomas could just make out movement on the shore to one side of the village.

‘There, they’ve already started landing to the west of Marsaxlokk.’

They squatted in silence, keeping watch on the enemy in the village, and as the dawn crept over the horizon it gradually revealed the full spectacle of the enemy’s invasion of the island. The ships anchored in the bay seemed so tightly packed that they merged into a confused mass whose masts looked like the bare trees of a forest in winter. Between the ships and the shore scores of smaller craft were ferrying soldiers and their stores ashore. A number of galleys had beached and men were picking their way carefully down the gangplanks into the surf and wading ashore. It had been a long time since Thomas had last seen the Muslim warriors he had fought in his youth and as he looked on, memories of past battles stirred.

Already a screen of men with conical helmets, round spiked shields and light flowing robes had spread out ahead of the main force and advanced cautiously. Behind them, other bands of men were forming up into their units. Warriors from every comer of the Turkish empire had been gathered for the invasion. Armoured horsemen with chain-mail veils protecting their faces, archers who had trained to shoot from horseback but were to fight this campaign on foot, men from the mountains of Kurdistan, with wild hair and dressed in animal skins. By far the most impressive body of men was landing from the galleys. Tall, fair-skinned soldiers with high white hats, above which long ostrich feathers bobbed. Each man carried the long-barrelled arquebuses favoured by the Turks. Although more cumbersome than those used by the armies of Europe, they were more accurate and quite deadly in the hands of men who had trained for years to use them. Besides their firearms, each man carried a scimitar and a shield on the pack slung across their shoulders. As soon as they reached the shore they quickly formed up in their companies and waited for their turbaned officers to issue orders.

‘Janissaries,’ Thomas muttered.

‘So I can see,’ said La Riviere. ‘Have you ever fought them before?’

‘Once.’ Thomas recalled the event as he replied. ‘La Valette raided an enemy outpost on Rhodes. We didn’t know that a company of Janissaries was in the fort until we scaled the gatehouse and surprised the sentries on duty. Once the gates were open, La Valette charged in at the head of our crew. That’s when we discovered what we were up against.’ He shook his head. ‘They fought like furies, even though few of them had the chance to put on any armour. We cut them down and still they came on, using their fists and even their teeth if they had lost their weapons. I’ve never see such fanatics, and hoped I never would again.’ He turned to the Frenchman. ‘It looks like the odds against us have just lengthened.’

La Riviere grinned. ‘I am a gambler by nature. I’ve always played by the principle that the longer the odds, the greater the pay-off.’

Thomas sighed. ‘I take it that you haven’t made your fortune at the gambling tables.’

‘I’ve never lost more than I can afford.’

‘That may be about to change.’ Thomas turned his attention back to the enemy forces landing on the beach. The first of the Janissary companies was moving forward, towards the lane leading back towards the site of the ambush. Half a mile ahead of them the Turkish scouts edged forward, picking their way across the broken ground towards the ridge. ‘They’re starting their advance.’

‘Then I hope de Robles has the sense to fall back on Birgu before he is in danger of being outflanked.’

‘He knows his business,’ Thomas responded.

There was a brief silence before the Frenchman turned to him. ‘Of course, you must have fought alongside him, before . . .’

‘Before I was obliged to leave the Order. Yes. I knew him then. A fine soldier. He won’t take any unnecessary risks.’

‘Unlike you.’

Thomas turned abruptly. ‘Is there something you want to ask me? If so, let’s attend to it before we have to deal with the enemy.’ La Riviere chuckled. ‘Ah, I think I have found a chink in your armour. But you don’t have to worry about me, Sir Thomas. I am not as preoccupied with the code of honour as some of the other members of the Order. I joined so that I might have a chance to fight. That is my calling. As far as I am concerned, the only mistake you made over that affair with the Italian noblewoman was not getting away with it.’

‘Really?’ Thomas replied coldly. ‘I thought my mistake was in not holding to the values expected of a knight.’

‘Those values have become more flexible in recent years. It is a pity that your, ah, indiscretion did not happen ten years later. I doubt whether there would be any question of you being asked to leave the Order.’

‘You think so?’

‘I know. There’s a little more to your unfortunate tale than you know.’

Thomas wondered what the Frenchman meant but he did not like his mocking tone and would not rise to the bait. There was no time anyway, the enemy was drawing closer and they had to return to the rest of the men.

‘Come on, we have to go.’

They stayed low as they crept away from the rocks and hurried back to the ambush site. A pale glow was spreading along the eastern horizon and by the time the enemy reached the position, the first rays of the sun would be in their eyes, making it harder for them to detect any signs of danger. Thomas was pleased there was no sign or sound of the men as they approached and it was only at the last moment that the tousled blond hair of Von Harsteiner rose up from behind the wall of a pen close to the farm.