Simon Scarrow - Sword and Scimitar

Romegas glanced at Thomas and smiled, believing that he had won the argument. ‘It is for the best, sir.’

‘You mistake me,’ said La Valette. ‘There will be no retreat to the fort . . . once I have seen to it that the drawbridge is blown to pieces.’

CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

The gloom of dusk was broken by the brief brilliance of a savage explosion and Thomas’s good eye squinted at the sudden glare. The sheet of flame and smoke was accompanied by an ear-shattering roar that echoed across Birgu. Pieces of the drawbridge spun lazily into the air, hung there for an instant, and then collapsed in a shower of debris that clattered across the roofs of the nearest buildings and splashed down into the channel that had been cut between the fort and the town of Birgu.

The Grand Master, his advisers and senior officers watched in silence for a moment.

‘There will be no retreat for us now, gendemen,’ La Valette said. ‘That is the message we send to the Turks just as much as to our own people. With God’s help we will hold Birgu. If we fail in that duty then we shall perish in its ruins. The final test is coming.’ He turned to survey the enemy-held heights above the town. ‘An enemy officer was captured this morning. He revealed that the Turks are steeling themselves for one last attack. That is why there have been no assaults for the last eight days and why Mustafa Pasha has concentrated his cannon fire on what is left of the walls. The enemy will strike at first light tomorrow.’ He paused while his officers took in the news.

‘If the attack fails then I believe Mustafa Pasha will not find it possible to stir his men to further action and we may yet survive this siege. Rest well tonight and be at your posts an hour before dawn.’ He looked round at his followers with a grim expression. ‘I am too weary to make fine speeches. I have only a few words to offer you now. We have battled the Turk in the best traditions of the Order. I count myself honoured to have commanded and fought alongside you and all those who have fallen defending the Holy Religion.

Heroes all. No men could have done more to win a greater share of honour and glory. If it is our fate to die on the morrow then so be it. Our martyrdom will inspire the rest of Christendom to fight the infidels. They will avenge us. If we should live then we shall have a tale to tell that will stir the hearts of men for generations to come. All who hear of our great deeds will stop and wonder, and say with full heart that in the long history of our struggle this was our finest time.’ He stepped among his officers and clasped each man’s hand in turn. ‘God go with you. I shall be at prayer in the cathedral if I am needed.’ Then he turned and walked stiffly back into the heart of Birgu.

Thomas stared after him, aware of the change in the Grand Master. Over the last months, as the strain told on other men, La Valette alone amongst the defenders had seemed to grow stronger and more fiercely determined. But now his long years had finally settled their burden upon his shoulders and for the first time he seemed thin, frail and weak, which was only to be expected in a man of seventy.

‘I’m surprised he has endured the strain for so long,’ Richard said softly, echoing Thomas’s thoughts. ‘Now I believe he has given up hope.’

‘No. Not him. Never him,’ Thomas replied. ‘He may be exhausted but his heart is as strong as ever.’

‘I hope you’re right. Without La Valette the Turks would have defeated us long ago.’

‘I trust you are content with the Grand Master’s decision?’

Thomas turned and saw Romegas standing at his side. Romegas nodded towards the shattered remnants of the drawbridge. ‘You should have supported my advice, Thomas. La Valette has only left enough men in the fort to man the guns. If Birgu falls tomorrow St Angelo will stand little chance of holding out for more than a few days. A stronger garrison might have endured for weeks, even months. But it’s too late now,’ he concluded bitterly.

Thomas shook his head. ‘You are wrong. If we had abandoned Birgu we would have lost the heart to fight and the enemy’s will to continue their attack would be renewed. This way, there is no retreat for our men. When they face the enemy tomorrow they will have iron in their hearts and will die before they give one inch of ground to the Turks.’

‘We shall see.’ Romegas turned and walked across the open ground to the fort, where he stood and stared at the splintered lengths of timber along the edge of the cutting forced up by the explosion.

The small gathering of officers began to disperse and Thomas beckoned to Richard.

‘Come, let us go back to Stokely’s house.’ They set off down the street, moving at a slow pace due to the continuing pain in Thomas’s leg. ‘I am unsure if I should say anything to your mother about the coming attack,’ Thomas muttered.

‘Why not?’ Richard was surprised. ‘She has a right to know. A right to make her peace in case tomorrow is the end. Surely?’ Thomas nodded. ‘I was thinking more about her fear for me. I have not fought since that last day at St Elmo.’

‘Are you fit to bear arms?’

‘La Valette thinks so.’

‘What do you think?’

‘My right arm is weak from lack of exercise. I can only see out of one eye and the flesh on my left arm and leg feels tight and it is painful when I flex the muscles.’ He glanced at Richard and forced a smile. ‘So I am no worse off than many men who will take their place on the wall. You must lead a charmed life. There’s hardly a scratch on you.’

Richard shrugged. ‘My luck will not last. I will be struck down one day soon.’

Thomas stopped and took his arm. ‘Are you afraid?’

For a moment Richard considered denying it. Then he nodded. ‘Of course, Father. I am not a brave man by disposition.’

‘That is not what I have heard. La Valette tells me that you fought like a veteran while I was in the infirmary. You have nothing to prove concerning your courage.’

‘On the contrary. I fight hard mostly because I am scared. So scared that I want it to end more than anything else. A bullet then would be a mercy. I face every attack with fear in my heart and cold sweat on my palms and running down my spine.’ He stared at

Thomas. ‘I would not be surprised if you are ashamed of me.’

‘Ashamed?’ His heart was torn by a helpless desire to protect his son, to shield him from his torment. He rested his hands on the young man’s shoulders. ‘I could not be more proud of you, Richard. You are the bravest man I have ever known.’

Richard shook his head. ‘I am a coward.’

‘A coward is one who imagines the risks and turns to run. Courage comes from having the will to stay and face peril. I know it better than most, Richard. It is the standard against which I have tested myself throughout my life.’

Richard looked at him sceptically and Thomas chuckled.

‘Did you think I was any different to you? Fear is the spur which drives men like us on. How else could we tame it and not let it become the master of our fate? It seems that we are alike in this, father and son.’

Richard nodded, his lips quivered for an instant and then he looked away awkwardly and hurriedly brushed at the corner of his eye. Thomas felt a stab of pain at his distress, which he took for shame.

‘There is no need to reproach yourself.’

Richard laughed nervously. ‘It is not reproach. I am happy. Happy to have a father . . . Happy to have you as my father.’

The distress inside Thomas instantly gave way to a serene joy and he drew his son close to embrace him and kiss his brow. Then, as if they had just shared a joke, he released him and punched him lightly on the chest. ‘We shall drink together tonight. God’s wounds! If ever there was a true test of courage, it must surely be the preserve of those who consume a bottle of the local wine.’