Sword and Scimitar - Scarrow Simon - Страница 62
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‘Of course it concerns me. I need your help to carry out my mission. I can’t afford for you to be distracted. Is it to do with that woman, Maria?’
Thomas was silent for a moment. ‘You know it is.’
‘Then you had better be careful. She must not be allowed to interfere with our plans.’
Thomas felt a chill enter his heart. ‘Is that a threat of some kind?’
‘No, I merely meant to remind you of your duty to your country, and your Queen. Keep that in mind.’
Thomas eased himself forward until his face was close to that of his squire. ‘Understand this, Richard. If you ever harm Maria, or act in any way to endanger her, I will kill you.’
Richard stared at him. ‘You would kill me to save her? Really?’ Their eyes locked briefly before Thomas slumped back, dispirited. The passion in his heart felt real enough, but Richard’s iron resolve to fulfil his mission and duty made his own feelings seem distastefully self-indulgent and his threat empty and ridiculous.
‘What would you do in my situation?’ he asked.
‘I can’t imagine.’
‘Then I pity you.’
‘Save your pity,’ Richard hissed. ‘Your imagined bond with this woman is a weakness. What do you think you can achieve? Tell me. What are your plans? What could you offer her?’
‘A chance to put right the wrong that was done to both of us. Perhaps if we live through this we might yet be joined, as we should have been all along. My plan is to ask her to be my wife and then I would take her home to England where we could grow old in peace.’ Richard shook his head. ‘There is no fool like an old fool. And any fool can see that you are presuming upon a degree of affection and forgiveness in this lady that borders on fantasy. You must see that.’
‘I see what is in my heart.’
‘And it blinds you to all else. Right now, it is my most fervent wish that I could carry out Walsingham’s orders by myself but I cannot. You must help me.’
‘Must I?’ Thomas settled back against the stone wall before he continued. ‘If I help you see your mission through then I expect help from you in turn.’
Richard’s eyes narrowed. ‘And what is it that you want me to help you with, exactly?’
‘For now, I need to know where Maria is. The civilians evacuated from St Elmo were brought here. She has to be somewhere here in Birgu.’
‘I have no doubt. It is common knowledge that many of your brother knights have mistresses, and some have even married in secret and live as husband and wife in their homes and estates on the island. Hypocrites!’ Richard sneered. ‘Like all those whom the Church of Rome holds up as models of rectitude. Hypocrites, all of them.’ He raised a clenched fist and his voice was strained with bitter emotion. ‘By God, if it was ever in my power I would wipe them all from the face of the earth
‘Them?’ Thomas’s brow creased. ‘Do you speak as a Christian, or a Muslim? For it is impossible for me to tell the difference.’ Richard lowered his fist and opened his fingers. ‘I beg your pardon,’ he muttered. ‘I am very tired. I forgot myself.’
Both men were silent. Thomas stared at his companion with frank curiosity. ‘What has been done to you that you should hate these people so terribly?’
‘Nothing . . . It’s nothing. I lost my temper for an instant. That is all.’
‘It is far from all. You revealed your heart for an instant, and I saw a darkness and a rage in you that I had never suspected. Richard, what is it? What torments your soul so badly?’
‘Suffice to say that I have no reason to love those who serve the Church of Rome,’ Richard replied coldly. ‘I am born of Catholics, who abandoned me when I was young. Mine was a hard upbringing, and I knew little kindness until Sir Robert took me into his service before I joined Walsingham’s agents. It was Cecil who taught me that Catholicism is a vile corruption of Christianity and I have dedicated my life to destroying it in England, and wherever it may be found.’ He was breathing quickly and it was a while before the rage that burned in him had died down enough for him to talk in a controlled manner.
‘If you help me, Sir Thomas, then I shall help you. We will find that letter, and your Maria, and we will take both from this island and return to England, if that is your wish.’
‘It is, and I fervently hope that it is hers as well.’
Richard nodded. ‘Then we have an agreement. As good as any that is signed in blood.’ He offered his hand and Thomas took it.
‘I hope your Maria is worth it,’ Richard said with a thin smile.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Over the following days the distant rattle of the iron wheels of the enemy guns carried clearly across the water of the harbour. From the walls of St Angelo the defenders looked on as the ant-like figures toiled on long ropes to haul their artillery along the crude track that meandered down the length of the ridge of Sciberras. Turkish engineers had gone ahead of the guns, improving the track and levelling a large patch of the rocky ground half a mile from St Elmo. Once the ground had been prepared, they constructed the first of the batteries with which to bombard the fort. Then, one by one, the guns were manoeuvred into position and long lines of men carried shot and kegs of gunpowder up to the battery to feed the cannon. As soon as their preparations were complete, the battery opened fire.
The first blast split the late spring afternoon. A puff of smoke spurted from the embrasure and then wafted into the air. Those watching from the keep on the other side of the harbour snapped their eyes towards the fort and an instant later a small explosion of rock and soil erupted a short distance in front of St Elmo, and then again off the stone facing of the outwork. As the roar of the cannon carried across the bay, the ears of La Valette’s hunting dogs pricked and they rose, growling, from where they had been lying at his feet. The Grand Master reached down and stroked their velvet heads gently to hush them.
‘A lucky shot,’ Stokely commented. ‘To strike home with the first attempt.’
Colonel Mas shook his head. ‘They won’t be needing much luck. The ground is hard. Any shot that falls short will ricochet and hit the fort with almost as much force as a direct hit.’
Thomas nodded. He had witnessed a handful of sieges in the boggy conditions of the Netherlands where soft ground swallowed up cannon shot in a welter of mud and damp soil. Only a direct hit had any effect. Here, on Malta, conditions were perfect for the Turkish gunners.
The second gun fired and the hair rose up on the backs of the hunting dogs and they barked ferociously. Other dogs in Birgu joined the chorus with each shot that was fired. La Valette tried to calm his hounds and then with an irritated sigh he gestured to one of his servants and ordered the man to take them down to the kennel in the dungeon corridor. Richard stepped aside to let them pass and eyed them with ill-disguised hostility.
The twelve guns of the battery continued to fire in turn in a rolling bombardment and it was soon clear that the Turks had chosen to concentrate their efforts on the ravelin and the two nearest points of the star-shaped fort. As the guns boomed out, the engineers advanced a short distance beyond the crest of the ridge and began to construct a second battery; further on, a series of green streamers flying from the top of slender posts marked the start of the approach trenches they were cutting into the rocky ground with picks, heavy chisels and hammers.
The handful of cannon mounted on the walls of the fort fired on the engineers each time they advanced the trench and scurried forward to throw up makeshift barricades to screen the men working on the next section. At the same time a company of Janissaries took shelter amid the outcrops of rocks and boulders closer to the defences. They sited their long-barrelled arquebuses on the walls of the fort and sniped at any defenders foolhardy enough to expose themselves too far above the parapet.
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