Birgu. Sir, I suggest we withdraw what is left of our fighting men into the fort. We can hold out there for a month or so yet, until Don Garcia and his army, or autumn, arrives.’
Thomas shook his head. ‘What about the civilians? We couldn’t possibly fit them all into the fort. Are you suggesting that we abandon them to the Turks?’ He thought of Maria and turned to his commander. ‘Sir, we can’t do that.’
‘We might have to,’ Romegas insisted. ‘How else can we make our supplies last long enough? The people are already starving. Our men will not have the strength to fight on in a few weeks’ time. The fort is more readily defended than the town and wall. It makes sense. It might be our only chance to save the Order, sir.’
‘Only at the price of our reputation,’ Thomas retorted. ‘Our name will go down in the annals of infamy if we leave the people to the mercy of the Turks. There will be no mercy, just massacre.’ Romegas smiled coldly. ‘This is war, Sir Thomas. A war that I, and the Grand Master, have been fighting through all the years we have served the Order. What matters, above all, is the survival of the Order.’
‘I thought that what matters is stemming the tide of Islam,’ Thomas countered.
‘While we live on we will always be the sword thrust into the side of the enemy,’ Romegas replied. ‘To ensure that, we must be prepared to make sacrifices. For the greater good.’
Thomas saw the strained expression on the Grand Master’s face as he reflected on Romegas’s suggestion and gave his response. ‘It’s true. We could hold St Angelo far more easily than Birgu, and perhaps long enough to see out the siege . . . And yet, what Sir Thomas says is also true. We should never forget that the Order was set up to protect the righteous and the innocent.’ He thought for a moment and then sighed. ‘I think I already know what I must do. Yes, I am certain of it.’
Romegas glanced at Thomas and smiled, believing that he had won the argument. ‘It is for the best, sir.’
‘You mistake me,’ said La Valette. ‘There will be no retreat to the fort . . . once I have seen to it that the drawbridge is blown to pieces.’
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
The gloom of dusk was broken by the brief brilliance of a savage explosion and Thomas’s good eye squinted at the sudden glare. The sheet of flame and smoke was accompanied by an ear-shattering roar that echoed across Birgu. Pieces of the drawbridge spun lazily into the air, hung there for an instant, and then collapsed in a shower of debris that clattered across the roofs of the nearest buildings and splashed down into the channel that had been cut between the fort and the town of Birgu.
The Grand Master, his advisers and senior officers watched in silence for a moment.
‘There will be no retreat for us now, gendemen,’ La Valette said. ‘That is the message we send to the Turks just as much as to our own people. With God’s help we will hold Birgu. If we fail in that duty then we shall perish in its ruins. The final test is coming.’ He turned to survey the enemy-held heights above the town. ‘An enemy officer was captured this morning. He revealed that the Turks are steeling themselves for one last attack. That is why there have been no assaults for the last eight days and why Mustafa Pasha has concentrated his cannon fire on what is left of the walls. The enemy will strike at first light tomorrow.’ He paused while his officers took in the news.
‘If the attack fails then I believe Mustafa Pasha will not find it possible to stir his men to further action and we may yet survive this siege. Rest well tonight and be at your posts an hour before dawn.’ He looked round at his followers with a grim expression. ‘I am too weary to make fine speeches. I have only a few words to offer you now. We have battled the Turk in the best traditions of the Order. I count myself honoured to have commanded and fought alongside you and all those who have fallen defending the Holy Religion.
Heroes all. No men could have done more to win a greater share of honour and glory. If it is our fate to die on the morrow then so be it. Our martyrdom will inspire the rest of Christendom to fight the infidels. They will avenge us. If we should live then we shall have a tale to tell that will stir the hearts of men for generations to come. All who hear of our great deeds will stop and wonder, and say with full heart that in the long history of our struggle this was our finest time.’ He stepped among his officers and clasped each man’s hand in turn. ‘God go with you. I shall be at prayer in the cathedral if I am needed.’ Then he turned and walked stiffly back into the heart of Birgu.
Thomas stared after him, aware of the change in the Grand Master. Over the last months, as the strain told on other men, La Valette alone amongst the defenders had seemed to grow stronger and more fiercely determined. But now his long years had finally settled their burden upon his shoulders and for the first time he seemed thin, frail and weak, which was only to be expected in a man of seventy.
‘I’m surprised he has endured the strain for so long,’ Richard said softly, echoing Thomas’s thoughts. ‘Now I believe he has given up hope.’
‘No. Not him. Never him,’ Thomas replied. ‘He may be exhausted but his heart is as strong as ever.’
‘I hope you’re right. Without La Valette the Turks would have defeated us long ago.’
‘I trust you are content with the Grand Master’s decision?’
Thomas turned and saw Romegas standing at his side. Romegas nodded towards the shattered remnants of the drawbridge. ‘You should have supported my advice, Thomas. La Valette has only left enough men in the fort to man the guns. If Birgu falls tomorrow St Angelo will stand little chance of holding out for more than a few days. A stronger garrison might have endured for weeks, even months. But it’s too late now,’ he concluded bitterly.
Thomas shook his head. ‘You are wrong. If we had abandoned Birgu we would have lost the heart to fight and the enemy’s will to continue their attack would be renewed. This way, there is no retreat for our men. When they face the enemy tomorrow they will have iron in their hearts and will die before they give one inch of ground to the Turks.’
‘We shall see.’ Romegas turned and walked across the open ground to the fort, where he stood and stared at the splintered lengths of timber along the edge of the cutting forced up by the explosion.
The small gathering of officers began to disperse and Thomas beckoned to Richard.
‘Come, let us go back to Stokely’s house.’ They set off down the street, moving at a slow pace due to the continuing pain in Thomas’s leg. ‘I am unsure if I should say anything to your mother about the coming attack,’ Thomas muttered.
‘Why not?’ Richard was surprised. ‘She has a right to know. A right to make her peace in case tomorrow is the end. Surely?’ Thomas nodded. ‘I was thinking more about her fear for me. I have not fought since that last day at St Elmo.’
‘Are you fit to bear arms?’
‘La Valette thinks so.’
‘What do you think?’
‘My right arm is weak from lack of exercise. I can only see out of one eye and the flesh on my left arm and leg feels tight and it is painful when I flex the muscles.’ He glanced at Richard and forced a smile. ‘So I am no worse off than many men who will take their place on the wall. You must lead a charmed life. There’s hardly a scratch on you.’
Richard shrugged. ‘My luck will not last. I will be struck down one day soon.’
Thomas stopped and took his arm. ‘Are you afraid?’
For a moment Richard considered denying it. Then he nodded. ‘Of course, Father. I am not a brave man by disposition.’
‘That is not what I have heard. La Valette tells me that you fought like a veteran while I was in the infirmary. You have nothing to prove concerning your courage.’