bellowed, ‘The break’s over! Back to work!’
The slave overseers picked up their whips made from the dried penises of bulls and set about driving the slaves back on to their feet and down into the ditch. The other members of the work party stirred with weary groans, some still hurriedly finishing off their rations. Thomas placed his hand firmly on Richard’s arm.
‘Whatever happens here, do not dishonour yourself as I did. Whatever your masters have ordered you to do, only do what is right.’
‘And how will I know that?’
‘Trust your heart. Not your ambition.’
Richard shook his head with a look of pity and pulled himself free of Thomas’s hand and reached for his pick. ‘I need neither heart nor ambition. I just do my duty. That is all that should concern a man. Perhaps if you had thought the same, you might have saved yourself from a life of torment, Sir Thomas.’
‘Upon my soul!’ Sir Martin puffed as he trotted up to them. ‘A fellow needs a break long enough to eat and perform his ablutions, eh? This won’t do.’
He glanced at them both, noting the sullen expression on the squire’s face and the anxiety etched in Thomas’s features.
‘What? What’s happened?’
‘Nothing,’ Thomas replied, forcing himself to tame his emotions. ‘Nothing at all. Let’s to work. We live in the shadow of the Turk and there’s still much to be done.’
He took up his pick and set off after Richard. Sir Martin watched them for a moment, and quietly tutted to himself.
‘What irks them so? By God, there’s enough peril already without having private conflicts to settle.’
CHAPTER TWENTY
There was a surprise for them when they returned to the auberge that evening. Seated at the head of the long table in the hall was Sir Oliver Stokely, waited on by Jenkins. He looked up sourly from his platter of goat chops as the three men entered, faces streaked with grime and their clothes covered in dust from the ditch they had been cutting in front of the ravelin. There was a tense pause before Sir Martin broke the silence with a cheerful laugh.
‘Sir Oliver, you’ve not been to the auberge in months! I had thought you had abandoned me forever.’
‘I fear we may be obliged to endure each other’s company a good deal more in the days to come. When the Turks arrive I will have to quit my estate near Mdina.’ Sir Oliver gestured round the hall with his fork. ‘Birgu will be my home for the duration of any siege, though it lacks the comforts I am used to.’
‘It suits me well enough,’ Sir Martin replied as he untied the cords of his tunic and pulled it over his head and tossed the garment to Jenkins who caught it deftly. ‘Some food for the rest of us.’
‘Yes, master.’ Jenkins bowed his head then took the dusty tunics of the other two and retreated down the corridor towards the kitchen.
‘Needless to say,’ Sir Oliver continued, ‘I am not oveijoyed at the prospect of sharing accommodation with a knight who brought lasting shame upon the Order. But there is no helping it.’
Thomas shrugged. ‘The past cannot be undone, no matter how much we both wish it.’ He sat on the bench halfway down the table. ‘Whatever once divided us should be set aside given the threat that faces us all, Sir Oliver.’
‘It is no easy matter to overlook the shame that hangs upon you like a shroud,’ the other knight replied coldly. ‘As we both know, those who stand too close to you are bound to suffer. Perhaps it would be best if you left the island for good, Sir Thomas. Go now, while you still have the chance, and never return to plague us again.’
‘Go?’ Thomas cocked an eyebrow in mock surprise at the suggestion. ‘I came in answer to a summons from the Grand Master himself. I was recalled to the Order. It is fit and proper that I am here. You talk of my past dishonour, but that would be nothing compared to abandoning my comrades at this dark hour.’
Sir Oliver’s lips lifted in a sneer. ‘I think we might do just as well, or as badly, without you. One knight and his squire cannot affect the outcome and will surely not be missed for more than a moment should they quit the island and return to England.’
‘We are not leaving,’ Richard intervened. ‘Not me, nor the noble knight I serve.’
‘Silence, whelp!’ Sir Oliver’s eyes widened angrily. ‘Your squire speaks out of turn. He knows his place and his obligations as poorly as you know your own, Sir Thomas.’
‘He is intemperate and foolish,’ Thomas replied. ‘But though he lacks some of the required obeisance before his betters, I value his courage and skill at arms. I believe that the present conflict will be the making of him and I would not deprive him of the honour of being here, any more than I would deprive myself, or you, or any of the few who stand their ground in the face of the many. However, he spoke out when he should have kept his silence and I apologise for his outburst. As will he.’
‘Apologise?’ Richard looked astonished. ‘I will not.’
‘You will!’ Thomas rounded on him. ‘Or I will have you flogged for insubordination, as I would have any squire flogged. Apologise. Now. I will not ask again.’
Sir Martin watched the exchange with a slight smile of amusement. ‘A good squire needs regular beatings, I say.’
Richard flinched slightly at his master’s anger and glared back defiantly, then lowered his eyes as he slowly turned towards Sir Oliver in silence. When he did not speak the knight tapped his fingers on the table.
‘You have something to say to me, young man?’
The squire’s shoulders dropped slightly as he answered in a strained voice, ‘If it please you, sir, I beg to apologise for my intemperate manner. I have done you wrong in presuming to speak freely before my superior. For that I apologise, humbly.’
‘Apology accepted. Now take your place at the bottom of the table and do not interrupt your betters again or, as Sir Thomas said, you will be flogged.’
‘Yes, Sir Oliver,’ Richard replied in as meek a manner as he could affect. He bowed his head and made his way to the bench at the far end of the long table and sat down. Sir Oliver turned his attention back to Thomas. He was about to speak when Jenkins returned with three silver plates in one hand and a platter of cold meat and bread in the other. He set the plates down in front of the two knights and the squire, heaping each one with cuts of meat and hunks of bread. From a cupboard by the wall he fetched them a goblet each, together with a jug of watered wine, before making his way back towards the kitchen to await further instructions. As his footsteps receded, Sir Oliver gestured towards Sir Martin.
‘I wonder what you would do in this situation.’
‘Me?’ Sir Martin looked puzzled. ‘What situation?’
‘I assume you know what it is necessary to know about the guilty past of Sir Thomas?’
Sir Martin glanced sidelong at Thomas but the latter’s expression was fixed and unfathomable.
‘Well now, I have heard a thing or two, yes. But I have known many knights who have sought the comfort of a wench.’
‘The daughter of a Neapolitan noble is hardly a wench,’ Sir Oliver replied coldly. ‘As any decent gentleman would know. The Order is prepared to look the other way when a knight forsakes his vows to take his pleasure of a common slattern, but the despoiling of a woman of noble blood is another matter entirely and is intolerable. A man who did that is without honour and is unfit for the company of the other members of our sacred Order. If I were such a man I could not endure the shame of what I had done. I would quit Malta at once and take myself off into exile for what was left of my pitiful life. The question stands, Sir Martin, what would you do in the place of Sir Thomas?’
The knight shook his head warily and shrugged. ‘It is not for me to say.’
‘But it is,’ Sir Oliver insisted. ‘I am asking you quite directly.’
‘I . . . I . . .’
‘There is no need to ask Sir Martin,’ Thomas interrupted. ‘As a knight whose morals are not in question here, Sir Martin is not answerable to you, or for me. The matter ends there,’ Thomas concluded firmly.
‘Not for my part,’ Sir Oliver replied through clenched teeth. ‘I will not rest until you are exposed for the scoundrel you still are and punished in a fitting manner, or forced to quit this island.’
