is what you deserve.’
Thomas frowned. ‘Why do you hate me so very much? What have I done to wrong you that you wish such a fate for me?’
‘Hate you? Of course I hate you. It was you she loved. Always you.’ Stokely gritted his teeth. ‘It should have been me. I deserved Maria, not you . . . And you shall never have her. Now get out of my way.’
Thomas met his cold, malevolent gaze, and then slowly eased himself to one side. Stokely swept past and started down the staircase. Thomas listened as the sound of his footsteps faded away, shaken by the venom in his words. After a moment he turned to watch the distant artillery train winding its way around the end of the harbour towards the end of the Sciberras peninsula. One thing was clear. The enemy had swiftly discarded the idea of an assault on Birgu and Senglea. Their full weight would be thrown against St Elmo, just as the Grand Master had hoped. The defenders had won some time to improve the fortifications of the most important positions. Their chances of surviving the siege would improve with every day that St Elmo held out. Thomas turned to look across the harbour at the fort. The setting sun bathed its walls in a warm glow and cast dark shadows where the acute angles of its star-shaped layout cut off the light. The breeze had dropped and the standards flying above the fort hung limply. It was a peaceful scene, Thomas mused. Not something that the eight hundred men garrisoning the fort were likely to see again.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
The mood in the auberge that evening was subdued. Jenkins served them a simple barley gruel, explaining that there was no longer any fresh meat to be had in the markets of Birgu. In order to save feed the Grand Master had given instructions for all livestock to be slaughtered and salted and stored in the warehouses by the dock. Only a small number of horses were to be given fodder from now on. With the arrival of a large number of refugees in Birgu, new billets for the soldiers had to be found and so a dozen Italian mercenaries had been assigned to the English auberge and these now joined Thomas, Richard and Sir Martin at the long table in the hall. With the arrival of the mercenaries Jenkins’s labours had increased considerably and he treated the Italians with ill-disguised disdain and resentment.
As the men supped they were quiet and reflective and conversation was mainly limited to requests to pass the bread platter, the salt or the jug of watered wine. The mercenaries kept to the end of the table nearest the door and left the three Englishmen to the end nearest the fireplace.
‘Where is Sir Oliver?’ asked Richard. ‘He said he would be accommodated at the auberge once the Turks landed.’
Sir Martin shrugged. ‘He has money enough to rent his own quarters. And a sufficiendy inflated sense of his own worth not to have to share accommodation with his brother knights.’
Thomas stirred his gruel. ‘Do you have any idea where he might have taken up residence?’
‘No,’ Sir Martin answered and they continued eating.
‘ ’Twas a great pity about La Riviere,’ Sir Martin said at length. ‘He was a good soldier. Never balked at the chance to take the fight to the Turk. One man we could ill afford to lose.’
Thomas nodded.
‘He was also reckless,’ said Richard. ‘He need not have died if he had kept his mind on the purpose of the ambush, which was to take prisoners.’
Sir Martin lowered his spoon and glowered at the squire. ‘Once again, you forget your place, young man. Such comments dishonour La Riviere. When you have won your spurs then, and only then, may you pass judgement on the knights of the Order. As it is, he died with honour.’
‘I do not dispute that, sir, but the fact is that he need not have died at all.’
Thomas sighed wearily. ‘But in death at least he did us all a great service.’
‘In what regard?’ asked Richard. ‘As Sir Martin has pointed out, we need good soldiers, and now we have lost a knight and the two squires who were killed or taken with him.’
Thomas pushed his bowl aside before he half turned towards Richard.
‘It was La Riviere who had the presence of mind to convince the Turks to attack the strongest section of our defences. Elsewhere the ditches are far less of an obstacle and they are not yet covered by cannon. If the Turks had launched their assault either side of the main gate it is possible that they would have been able to scale the walls. If they had secured a foothold there and then pushed on into Birgu, our cause would already be as good as lost. As it was, the enemy was bloodily repulsed from the section of our defences they believed to be our weakest. The experience has caused them to choose what they believe to be a less formidable target. That is why they are now marching on St Elmo.’
The younger man lowered his gaze and stared down at his hands. ‘I spoke without knowing the full context of his actions, sir.’
‘That is the burden of youth,’ said Sir Martin. ‘You will learn, in time. If we live through this.’
Richard glanced at Thomas. ‘I apologise, sir.’
‘You owe me no apology,’ said Thomas. ‘It is the name of a dead man that you have impugned. It may be that La Riviere’s c ourage and presence of mind has altered the outcome of the siege.
Think on that, Richard, before you race to judgement on any man in future.’ He rose to his feet. ‘I am to bed. I bid you good night, gentlemen.’ He turned to the lower end of the table and bowed his head. ‘And to our guests.’
The Italians looked up as he addressed them and guessed his meaning and bowed their heads in return before turning back to their meal and conversing in low tones.
Thomas made his way to his cell and closed the door behind him. He sat down on his bed and eased off his boots and breeches before lying down and staring up at the ceiling. A thin beam of moonlight entered from the narrow window above his head and cast a ghostly arch of light on the wall opposite. He folded his arms behind his head and yawned. He had not slept for two days. The strain of the previous night’s action and the events of the day had taken their toll and he felt more tired than he had done in many years. He closed his eyes and breathed evenly, yet sleep would not come. Footsteps passed outside his door and then he heard Sir Martin’s voice grumbling about Italians before a nearby door closed with a slam.
His weary mind returned to his brief exchange with Stokely on top of the bastion. What was his role in all of this? Had he really nursed his grievance as a spumed lover for twenty years? Perhaps jealousy was just as capable of thriving on the scraps of memory as was love. Was it jealousy that made Stokely refuse to reveal where Maria was or, as he claimed, Maria’s wish? He must find Maria. Soon.
There was a light knock at the door and for a moment Thomas considered not responding and feigning sleep. But he welcomed a respite from thoughts of Maria. With a muttered curse, he sat up.
‘Come!’
The latch scraped up and the door opened to reveal Richard illuminated by a candle. The sounds of conversation from the hall carried through into the cell, more cheerful and unrestrained now that the Englishmen had left the table.
‘I need to speak to you, Sir Thomas,’ Richard announced.
Jenkins passed behind him on the way to the kitchen to refill the wine jug.
‘Come in, then.’
Richard closed the door and crossed the room. He set the candle down beside the bed and fetched the single chair for himself.
‘If this is about earlier,’ Thomas began, ‘I merely meant to encourage you to think before you pass comment. You are inclined to forget the attitude that is expected of a squire. Even one of the older squires.’
Richard shook his head. ‘It’s not that. I have a more important matter to discuss.’ He glanced back towards the door as if fearful that he might be overheard, and then leaned towards Thomas and continued in an urgent undertone. ‘I went to St Angelo on an errand today while you, La Valette and the others were on the bastion.’
‘What errand?’
‘To see what I could discover about the location of Sir Philip’s chest, of course. I told the sentries that you had left your gauntlets in the Grand Master’s quarters and sent me to fetch them.’
‘Very enterprising of you. Did the sentries let you pass inside?’
‘They did. Your name carries some weight these days. I crossed into St Angelo and feigned a search for the
