She licked her lips again and replied hoarsely, ‘Maria de Venici.’ Thomas nodded and again he felt something stir in his heart as he regarded her.
‘Maria,’ he repeated slowly, savouring each syllable of the name. ‘Maria.’
CHAPTER FIVE
Malta, two months later
Thin streaks of silvery cloud ringed the bright gleam of a crescent moon over Malta. A glittering finger of reflected light stretched across the waters of the harbour towards the mass of the Sciberras ridge, and the air was still and hot. Thomas paid little attention to his surroundings. On another night he would have been sensitive to the sensual aesthetics of a summer night in the Mediterranean and paused to drink in the sights and sounds and surrender to the moment.
But not now.
His heart was beating with impatience and anxiety as he stood in the shadow of the walls of Fort St Angelo, the home of the Order, built on the rocky tip of the Birgu peninsula. The fort guarded the entrance to the harbour and loomed over the small town whose red roof tiles appeared dull and grey in the moonlight. A small path ran along the base of the wall, leading down to the landing stage at the edge of the water, where Thomas stood waiting. He started nervously as the cathedral bell tolled the half-hour after midnight. Maria should have been here long ago. Edging away from the rocks beneath the wall, Thomas strained his eyes as he stared along the path, but nothing moved there. He felt a stab of fear at the thought that she might have changed her mind and decided not to take the risk of meeting him alone again.
They had already been warned not to pursue their relationship. La Valette had approached Thomas at the morning weapons drill and taken him aside for a quiet exchange. Maria de Venici, he reminded the young knight, was waiting for her brother to retrieve her from the island and pay over the reward to the Order for her rescue.
Thomas’s lips twitched with amusement. Ransom was a more accurate word for it. Not that such an infelicitous term played any part in the exchange of messages between the Order and the Venici family.
‘Your mutual affection has not gone unnoticed,’ said La Valette. ‘And I must warn you that it is inadvisable, Thomas. Maria is betrothed to another and there is no future for this . . . friendship that has grown between you.’
‘Who told you, sir?’ Thomas asked.
Before he could stop himself, La Valette’s gaze instinctively flickered towards the other young knights practising their attacks against wooden dummies set up in the courtyard of Fort St Angelo. Thomas looked beyond him and saw Oliver Stokely watching them. As their eyes met, Stokely turned his attention back to the dummy he had been attacking, which was painted to resemble a Turk, complete with a crudely depicted face with dark features and black eyes.
So, Thomas thought, it was the man he had considered a friend. It came as little surprise. Their friendship had cooled in the weeks since the galley had returned to Malta as it quickly became evident that the woman they had set free preferred the company of Thomas. She had been grateful and friendly towards Stokely, but her expression became far more lively in the presence of Thomas and it was him she asked to accompany her in her walks about Birgu, and then in the surrounding countryside.
That was where it had happened, Thomas recalled, with a quickening of his pulse. In the shadow of one of the island’s rare trees on the heights of St Margaret, which overlooked Birgu and the harbour. She had stumbled against him, her brow brushing his cheek as he caught her by the arm to prevent her falling. Maria had looked up, and smiled, and then they had kissed. It had been an instinctive act, and Thomas had been shocked by his impulsiveness, until she reached her hand behind his neck and pulled him closer to her and they kissed again. They found a hidden comer in one of the stone walls and Thomas had laid his cape on the ground and they had remained there for the rest of the afternoon, before returning to Birgu, flushed with passion, and trepidation. It was a dangerous liaison and both knew it. Yet they could not, and would not, constrain the heat that coursed through their veins.
That had been several days before La Valette had issued his warning. Days in which Thomas had endured his daily duty as if it had been an eternity in purgatory. Afterwards he ran to meet her at place they had agreed upon, a small garden close to the town gate. It had belonged to a Venetian merchant who had bequeathed it to the islanders. The garden offered shade and the sweet scent of flowers and herbs to visitors. A more fertile ground for the meeting of lovers was not to be found anywhere else on the island. That was where they had been, in a shady bower, when Stokely had appeared, standing foursquare upon the path, in the direct glare of the sun. He stared at them in silence as they self-consciously leaned away from each other. The scar on his cheek was still livid and had stretched skin at the comer of his mouth into a faint sneer.
‘Oliver,’ Maria smiled. ‘You surprised us.’
‘I can see that,’ he replied coldly. ‘So, this is where you have cn running off to, Thomas.’
Thomas rose from the bench he had been sharing with Maria, 'Listen, this is our secret. I would ask you not to tell anyone of this.’
‘Ask and be damned,’ Stokely said angrily. ‘This is wrong. You swore an oath of chastity, Thomas. As has every knight.’
Thomas snorted. ‘The oath is meaningless. Honoured more in the breach than the obligation, and you know it. Grand Master d’Omedes is content to turn a blind eye when it suits him.’
‘Nevertheless, it is an oath. It is my duty to report this.’
The two glared at each other and Thomas was surprised to see the anger, and even hate, that blazed in the eyes of his friend.
‘You must not speak a word of this, Oliver. If not for the sake of our friendship, then out of chivalry to Maria.’
‘I will take no lessons in chivalry from you!’ Stokely spat. Thomas gritted his teeth and pressed his lips together as his hands balled into fists. But before the confrontation could go any further he felt Maria gently stay his arm. She stepped between them and smiled nervously at Stokely. ‘There is no need for this. Not amongst friends.’
‘I see no friends here,’ Stokely responded in a strained voice.
Maria frowned 'I consider you a friend, Oliver, and you have my heartfelt gratitude for saving me from the Turks, as does Thomas.
‘Is this how a friend shows gratitude?’
‘Do not be angry with me.’ She reached out for his hand but Stokely took a step back. Maria let out a small gasp. ‘Oliver... I speak direct from my heart when I call you my friend. My dear friend.’
‘Then why do you betray my friendship like this? Both of you.’
‘In what way have I betrayed you? Have I lied to you?’ she reproved him.
When he did not reply she lowered her head sadly. ‘I had thought you my benefactor and friend, just as I regard Thomas. And now, even though he is more than my friend, that does not make you less of one. Dear Oliver, please understand.’
‘Do not call me that! Not unless you mean it as I wish it to be meant.’
‘You have my affection. Please do not abuse it.’
Stokely growled something under his breath and with a last bitter glance at Thomas he turned on his heel and strode off through the garden. Thomas watched his retreating back and let out a sigh. ‘There will be trouble for us. Mark my words.’
Maria shook her head. ‘Oliver is a good man, and a good friend. He will come to his senses.’
Thomas thought for a moment and shrugged. ‘I hope you are right, my love.’
As soon as he had uttered the words he felt his heart jump anxiously and he quickly glanced at Maria. She was smiling at him in delight as she whispered, ‘And now I know ‘Thomas, did you hear me?’ La Valette snapped.
Thomas’s mind raced to recall what his superior had just said to him, but to no avail. His mouth opened, but no reply came. La Valette let out a hiss of exasperation and ran his hand through his thick dark hair. He leaned forward.
