‘Just watch him.’
The enemy party continued their examination of the defences. At length they halted opposite the bastions occupied by the knights from Auvergne and Castille and there was a lengthy exchange between the Turkish officers and their prisoner. It was then that Thomas understood what the Grand Master had been alluding to.
‘La Riviere’s telling the Turks to attack our strongest position.’
La Valette nodded. ‘I think so.’
Thomas thought for a moment before he continued in a low voice, ‘As soon as they discover the truth, they will take their revenge on him.’
‘Then let us hope that their revenge, and his suffering, are swift.’ The Grand Master turned to Mas. ‘If La Riviere is doing what I think he is, then we must add to his deception. Take five companies of our arquebusiers out of the main gate and send them forward far enough to skirmish with the enemy. They are to exchange fire but avoid any engagement at close quarters. If the enemy advances on them, pull them back at once.’
The colonel hesitated a moment before responding. ‘Is that wise, sir? We have few enough men as it is. We’re bound to suffer casualties.’
‘That can’t be helped. We must make the enemy think that the rest of the line is strongly defended, and that there are only a few men holding these two bastions. If they throw their weight against us here, they will suffer grievously and, with luck, they will think all our defences are as strong as this.’ He patted the thick masonry of the embrasure. ‘Now go and prepare the men, Colonel. And you may lead them. Let them have their first taste of action. See how they stand up to enemy fire. It’ll steady their hearts and give them confidence, you’ll see.’
‘As you command, sir.’ Colonel Mas bowed his head.
He strode off and descended the staircase. La Valette and the others turned their attention back to the enemy in time to see the small party move away from the bastions and make their way back through the batde line. There was a short delay before the noise from the enemy’s drums, cymbals and horns swelled into a cacophony that echoed off the stone walls of Birgu and the fort of St Michael. In response there was a rattle of drums from the battlements and the main gates opened as Colonel Mas led out the first company of arquebusiers. At their appearance the defenders let out a cheer and the colours of the Order and the banners of the mercenaries swirled in the light breeze as the standard bearers waved them from side to side. Colonel Mas and his small force crossed the drawbridge over the ditch that ran along the front of the wall. The arquebusiers took up position amid the remains of the buildings and low stone walls that had been hurriedly demolished during the previous weeks.
Thomas watched as they loaded and primed their weapons and blew on the smouldering fuses to make sure that they stayed alight, ready for use once the order to open fire was given.
As soon as they saw the arquebusiers emerge from the main gate, the Turks responded in kind. A line of Janissaries advanced from the main battle line, long barrels propped against their shoulders as they strode confidently towards Birgu. Colonel Mas stood on a pile of rubble in full view of the enemy and calmly watched them approach, one hand resting on his hip, the other on the hilt of his sword. Thomas could not help but admire the coolness of the mercenary officer.
The enemy were allowed to get well within the range of the defenders before Colonel Mas bellowed the order to open fire. A rolling crackle of explosions rippled along the line of arquebusiers as they fired from cover along the front of the wall. Tiny tongues of flame darted from the barrels of the weapons and were instantly engulfed in thick greasy-looking clouds of gunpowder smoke.
Thomas saw several of the Janissaries tumble as they were struck by the heavy lead balls, while dust and chips of stone burst from the ground where shots missed. At once the arquebusiers began to reload their weapons. The Janissaries hesitated briefly before one of their officers drew his scimitar and waved them on. The advance continued, but now the enemy were hunched forward slightly as they tried to make themselves smaller targets. Colonel Mas gave the order to fire at will and the more handy of the men got their next shots off well in advance of their comrades and then the firing merged into a steady crackle.
A score. of the Janissaries were sprawled on the open ground, some writhing feebly or trying to crawl back to the rear. When their comrades had closed to just over a hundred yards from the arquebusiers, their officer gave the order to halt and return fire. It was the last order he ever gave as a moment later a shot struck him in the head and the back of his white headdress exploded in bloody fragments. His body spasmed and he toppled on to his back, spreadeagled, and kicked a few times before lying still. But his men continued to follow his order, setting their long-barrelled weapons up on slim wooden stands and then taking careful aim on the defenders before returning fire.
Even though their weapons were more accurate and they were better trained and could load and fire more quickly than their opponents, the Turks were in open ground and made easy targets. From the bastion it seemed to Thomas that for every one of Mas’s men who fell, at least three of the enemy were shot down. The colonel steadily made his way along the rear of the line, encouraging the men while miraculously avoiding the enemy’s shots which smashed into stones nearby or kicked up divots of soil and gravel close to his boots.
As the exchange of fire continued, Thomas saw that the Turkish line had edged forward in front of the bastions of Castille and Auvergne and around him the defenders made ready for action. Scores of arquebuses, already loaded, were leaning against the inside of the battlements ready to be taken up and fired. Young Maltese boys who had been trained to reload the weapons stood ready to do their duty. Below, in the body of the bastion, Thomas could hear the ramble of cannon as they were run up to the narrow firing ports in their casemates. More men stood by armed with pikes, ready to rush forward and throw back any attempt to escalade the walls of the bastions, or the curtain wall that linked them.
Looking round, Thomas saw that the Grand Master was watching the enemy’s preparations for the attack with grim satisfaction.
Shrill blasts from brass trumpets gave the signal and with a deep roar the Turks swept forward across the open ground towards the bastions. Thomas saw that there were none of the headdresses of the Janissaries in the ranks of those charging towards him. Clearly the enemy commander had decided to spare his crack troops and entrust this first assault to the more expendable Spahis and the religious fanatics dressed in white robes. As they poured forward, the exchange of fire in front of the main gate continued uninterrupted, as if it was a separate battle. Colonel Mas spared the horde one brief look before turning his concentration back to the fight to his front.
On the bastion La Valette watched the oncoming enemy with cool detachment and his closest officers affected the same calm. Ranging posts had been set up a few days earlier and as the Turks reached those furthest from the defences the guns in the casemates opened fire with a deafening explosion that seemed to rip the air apart. Thomas felt the stone shake beneath his boots and his ears filled with the roar of the guns. Smoke billowed up and over the battlements and caught in the throats of the men there, making them choke. As the smoke cleared, Thomas saw that the grapeshot that had been tightly packed into the muzzles of the cannon had torn great lanes through the ranks of the enemy, scything down ten or more men at a time, mangling their bodies into bloody heaps.
The Turks did not waver for an instant but charged on, sweeping over their fallen comrades as they raced towards the counterscarp of the ditch a short distance from the bastions and the wall extending between them. As they passed the second line of marker stakes, the arquebusiers opened fire, adding their weight to the cones of grapeshot blasting out of the casemates. As flame and smoke rippled out from the defences, the Turkish ranks withered before the impact of the defenders’ fire. And still they came on, leaping over the bodies of the fallen and screaming their war cries, their robes flying.
‘Good God,’ Thomas said in disbelief, ‘they know no fear.’
The first men reached the counterscarp and slid or scrambled down the steep angle into the ditch in front of the wall. More cannon opened fire from each of the bastions, sited to enfilade the ditch, and heavy shot scourged the Turks as they struggled to clamber up the scarp towards the foot of the wall. Thomas could see only a handful of scaling ladders and shook his head at the foolishness of launching such an assault before more had been constructed. The angle of fire was now so acute that some of the defenders stood on the wall to fire down at the enemy below.
‘Order those fools to get down before they are shot!’ La Valette snapped.
Stokely ran to the side of the bastion and shouted the order. Only a handful of the nearest men had retained their wits enough to obey. The blood of the others was up and they were shooting down and handing back their weapons for a replacement as fast as they could. Then one of them spun round as he was struck by a bullet fired
