Текст книги "Sword and Scimitar"

Автор книги: Simon Scarrow

Соавторы: Simon Scarrow
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Текущая страница: 16 (всего у книги 33 страниц)

He let his words sink into the minds of the other men before he turned his attention back to La Riviere. ‘There is one other purpose you and your men must achieve besides unnerving the enemy’s scouts. We need some prisoners to interrogate. Capture a handful and bring them back here for questioning. We need detailed intelligence on the strength and intentions of our enemy as soon as possible.’

‘It will be my pleasure, sir.’ La Riviere grinned.

‘I am sure. You will take Sir Thomas Barrett as your second-in– command. He once showed a useful disposition for this kind of work in the past. I am sure his old instincts will reawaken with such an opportunity. Listen to his advice, La Riviere. There are few knights better than you on horseback, and your men would follow you into the jaws of death itself if you asked them to. However, you have an impetuous side to your nature and require a moderating influence, and that is the role of Sir Thomas. You both understand?’ Thomas and La Riviere nodded.

‘Are there any questions, gentlemen?’

Thomas spoke up. ‘Yes, sir. When do we leave?’

‘Hah!’ La Valette laughed deeply. ‘Can’t wait to test yourself against the Turk, eh? Marshal de Robles will be leading his men out of the gates of Birgu within the hour. You and La Riviere will move out three hours before dawn so that you can set your ambush under cover of darkness.’ He looked at each of them in turn. There were no more questions. ‘Good luck, gentlemen, and God be with you.’

Marshal de Robles led his men out of the office and La Riviere and Thomas followed. He introduced the French knight to Richard and explained their mission.

‘Return to the auberge and prepare our armour and weapons. I take it that we will be provided with mounts?’ Thomas asked La Riviere.

‘Of course. It would not do to have a knight walk into battle. There’ll be horses provided for both of you.’

‘I thank you.’ Thomas bowed his head and turned to address Richard. ‘Then there is nothing for me to do for the present. I’ll return to the auberge at midnight before we join the force inside the main gate of Birgu.’

‘Yes, sir. And where will you be until then?’

‘I have something I must attend to.’

‘Oh?’ La Riviere cocked an eyebrow. ‘What could be so important? Or perhaps I should ask, who could be so important?’

Thomas stared at him, concerned that his motives were so apparent. He faced the French knight with a firm expression. ‘It is personal business, and any knight who values his sense of honour should know better than to pry into it.’

The oarsman was about to settle down for a rest in the bottom of his boat when Thomas returned to the quay and ordered him to row back across the harbour. A handful of other craft were making the crossing as the late-aftemoon sun dipped towards the horizon. Some were carrying supplies out to St Elmo and returning laden with civilians anxious to reach the greater safety of Birgu. His heart felt light at the prospect of seeing Maria, and sharing a few hours with her before he had to return and prepare for La Riviere’s raid. The earlier awkwardness had been caused by his shock at finding her alive, and not knowing what he wanted to say to her. Now he felt confident that they would be able to talk more freely and he would discover what had become of Maria during the intervening years and whether she still held true to the intense feeling they had once shared.

As the boat reached the tiny strip of shingle below the fort, Thomas did not wait for it to beach but leaped over the bows and splashed into the shallows. He surged ashore and ran to the path that wound up the rocky cliff to the fort. The courtyard was already in shadow and there were hundreds of Maltese crammed within, and more were arriving through the passage from the main gate. There was fear in the expressions of all gathered there; some were weeping and many others were on their knees praying earnestly to be delivered from the wrath of the Turks. Thomas threaded his way through them as he made his way across the courtyard to the chapel. The large door was open and the glitter of many candles was visible inside. The benches of the chapel were filled with more of the devout, praying fervently. Thomas’s eyes searched for Maria but could not see the green of her cloak anywhere. He walked slowly down the aisle, looking closely to each side, but there was no sign of her. With a growing sense of anxiety he approached a priest who had just emerged from the confession box.

‘Father, I’m looking for a woman. She should have been here, where I told her to wait for me.’

‘A woman?’

Thomas nodded. ‘She was wearing a green cloak. She arrived not long after midday, with her household staff. I told her to wait here for me. Did you see her?’

‘Oh, yes. In fact she came to confession.’

‘Then where is she?’

‘She left.’

‘What?’ Thomas felt a stab of anxiety. ‘Where did she go?’

‘I don’t know. She didn’t say. All I know is that she seemed greatly disturbed, but then who wouldn’t be in the circumstances? She ordered those with her to gather up their belongings and then they left the chapel. That’s the last I saw of her.’

‘Did she leave any message for me?’

The priest looked at him. ‘And you are?’

‘Sir Thomas Barrett. A . . . friend of the lady.’

‘I see. No, there was no message.’

‘Nothing?’

‘Nothing. I’m sorry.’

‘And you have no idea where she went? Could she still be in the fort perhaps?’

‘I doubt it. I saw her party making for the main gate. My best guess is that they were making for the landing, to find some boats to take them across to Birgu. If you want to find her I suggest you look there. Now, if that’s all, I have to offer comfort to the refugees. Do you mind, sir?’

Thomas stood aside and let the priest pass. He felt sick in the pit of his stomach. Why had Maria not waited for him? Why had she left in a hurry? He could not think of any reason that did not carry the possibility that she did not want to see him. That was too dreadful a prospect to face and Thomas clung to the hope that there was a sound reason why she had felt compelled to leave the fort. Very well, then he must track her down. He would not be satisfied until he heard the truth about her feelings, either way, from her lips. One thing was certain. A fortress under siege was a small world. It would only be a matter of time before he found her.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

‘This will do.’ La Riviere held up his hand to halt the small column. It was still dark and the barely discernible shapes of the knights and foot soldiers were strung out behind them so that they did not stumble into each other. The knight behind the two leaders drew a breath to relay the command. ‘Column! Halt!’

Thomas turned swiftly in his saddle and hissed fiercely, ‘Quiet, you fool!’

‘Sorry, sir.’

Thomas turned his mount towards him. Peter Von Harsteiner Was a tall big-boned German with cropped dark hair. He had been keen to volunteer for the ambush party and clearly idolised La Riviere, which was why Thomas had been doubtful about including him. He would have preferred more seasoned soldiers who had experience in such work, but La Riviere had already chosen his men and cheerfully brushed aside the Englishman’s concerns. Thomas reined in close to the German and spoke gently.

‘Look here, Von Harsteiner, the Turks have already landed advance parties. Do you want to give us away?’

The German shook his head vigorously. ‘No, sir.’

‘The question was rhetorical,’ Thomas said wearily. ‘Just keep calm and keep quiet. Move slowly and carefully and do not speak unless you have to. I know your blood is up, but this work needs careful timing and self-control. Do you understand? That question uwsti'trhetorical.’

In the gloom Thomas saw the German’s amused smile. ‘I understand.’

'Good lad.’ He pulled the reins and walked the horse back along– side La Riviere and spoke in an undertone. ‘Impetuous, but willing to learn. Be sure to position him where he can’t do us any harm.’

‘Oh, he’ll be no problem,’ the French knight replied dismissively as he surveyed the surrounding landscape. The column had been advancing along a narrow lane bordered by the waist-high stone walls that were a common feature of the island. On either side the ground was broken by outcrops of rock and stunted bushes. A small farm building loomed ahead and the odour of swine carried on the night air. Beyond, the lane rose to a low ridge that overlooked one of the bays on the southern coast.

‘We’ll deploy on either side of the lane,’ La Riviere decided. ‘Let the Turks wander into the trap and then attack them from the flanks. The arquebusiers can open fire and then the mounted men can charge home. Should be over very quickly.’

‘If we deploy on both sides, isn’t there a risk that our men might fire on each other by mistake?’ Thomas said patiently.

‘You think so?’

‘I’ve heard of it happening.’

‘Hmmm. In that case we’ll deploy to the left. Arquebusiers in the centre and the mounted men on each flank. Once I give the signal, the men will open fire and we will charge on to the lane in front and behind the enemy and turn in to crush them like a vice. That should do the trick, eh?’

Thomas nodded.

While the men armed with arquebuses clambered over the wall and found positions with a good view over the road, the knights and their squires, eight in number, dismounted and led their horses into concealment. Once La Riviere and Thomas were satisfied that their small force was well deployed, they handed their mounts to Richard to hold for them and continued cautiously along the lane towards the crest half a mile beyond the ambush point. As they passed the farm they saw a small heap of pig carcasses hurriedly burned to leave as little as possible for the enemy. The acrid stench of charred meat filled the air and they hurried on. From their left came the occasional crackle of musket fire and the rattle of drums in the distance as Marshal de Robles and his men engaged the first of the Turks to land on the island near Marsaxlokk Bay. The surrounding countryside seemed still and quiet and Thomas was conscious of the noise that their footsteps made on the dry and dusty surface of the lane. They slowed down as they reached the crest and turned off the road, making for a jumble of rocks fifty yards away where they would be concealed while they watched for the enemy. As they rounded the largest boulder, the small bays of the southern coast came into view and La Riviere caught his breath and muttered a curse.

Even though the coming dawn was no more than a hint of lighter sky along the eastern horizon, the stars and the thin sliver of a crescent moon provided enough illumination to reveal at least a hundred ships hove to in the small bay directly before them. The dark blots of several small houses less than a mile away marked the location of the tiny fishing village at the end of the lane. Straining his eyes, Thomas could just make out movement on the shore to one side of the village.

‘There, they’ve already started landing to the west of Marsaxlokk.’

They squatted in silence, keeping watch on the enemy in the village, and as the dawn crept over the horizon it gradually revealed the full spectacle of the enemy’s invasion of the island. The ships anchored in the bay seemed so tightly packed that they merged into a confused mass whose masts looked like the bare trees of a forest in winter. Between the ships and the shore scores of smaller craft were ferrying soldiers and their stores ashore. A number of galleys had beached and men were picking their way carefully down the gangplanks into the surf and wading ashore. It had been a long time since Thomas had last seen the Muslim warriors he had fought in his youth and as he looked on, memories of past battles stirred.

Already a screen of men with conical helmets, round spiked shields and light flowing robes had spread out ahead of the main force and advanced cautiously. Behind them, other bands of men were forming up into their units. Warriors from every comer of the Turkish empire had been gathered for the invasion. Armoured horsemen with chain-mail veils protecting their faces, archers who had trained to shoot from horseback but were to fight this campaign on foot, men from the mountains of Kurdistan, with wild hair and dressed in animal skins. By far the most impressive body of men was landing from the galleys. Tall, fair-skinned soldiers with high white hats, above which long ostrich feathers bobbed. Each man carried the long-barrelled arquebuses favoured by the Turks. Although more cumbersome than those used by the armies of Europe, they were more accurate and quite deadly in the hands of men who had trained for years to use them. Besides their firearms, each man carried a scimitar and a shield on the pack slung across their shoulders. As soon as they reached the shore they quickly formed up in their companies and waited for their turbaned officers to issue orders.

‘Janissaries,’ Thomas muttered.

‘So I can see,’ said La Riviere. ‘Have you ever fought them before?’

‘Once.’ Thomas recalled the event as he replied. ‘La Valette raided an enemy outpost on Rhodes. We didn’t know that a company of Janissaries was in the fort until we scaled the gatehouse and surprised the sentries on duty. Once the gates were open, La Valette charged in at the head of our crew. That’s when we discovered what we were up against.’ He shook his head. ‘They fought like furies, even though few of them had the chance to put on any armour. We cut them down and still they came on, using their fists and even their teeth if they had lost their weapons. I’ve never see such fanatics, and hoped I never would again.’ He turned to the Frenchman. ‘It looks like the odds against us have just lengthened.’

La Riviere grinned. ‘I am a gambler by nature. I’ve always played by the principle that the longer the odds, the greater the pay-off.’

Thomas sighed. ‘I take it that you haven’t made your fortune at the gambling tables.’

‘I’ve never lost more than I can afford.’

‘That may be about to change.’ Thomas turned his attention back to the enemy forces landing on the beach. The first of the Janissary companies was moving forward, towards the lane leading back towards the site of the ambush. Half a mile ahead of them the Turkish scouts edged forward, picking their way across the broken ground towards the ridge. ‘They’re starting their advance.’

‘Then I hope de Robles has the sense to fall back on Birgu before he is in danger of being outflanked.’

‘He knows his business,’ Thomas responded.

There was a brief silence before the Frenchman turned to him. ‘Of course, you must have fought alongside him, before . . .’

‘Before I was obliged to leave the Order. Yes. I knew him then. A fine soldier. He won’t take any unnecessary risks.’

‘Unlike you.’

Thomas turned abruptly. ‘Is there something you want to ask me? If so, let’s attend to it before we have to deal with the enemy.’ La Riviere chuckled. ‘Ah, I think I have found a chink in your armour. But you don’t have to worry about me, Sir Thomas. I am not as preoccupied with the code of honour as some of the other members of the Order. I joined so that I might have a chance to fight. That is my calling. As far as I am concerned, the only mistake you made over that affair with the Italian noblewoman was not getting away with it.’

‘Really?’ Thomas replied coldly. ‘I thought my mistake was in not holding to the values expected of a knight.’

‘Those values have become more flexible in recent years. It is a pity that your, ah, indiscretion did not happen ten years later. I doubt whether there would be any question of you being asked to leave the Order.’

‘You think so?’

‘I know. There’s a little more to your unfortunate tale than you know.’

Thomas wondered what the Frenchman meant but he did not like his mocking tone and would not rise to the bait. There was no time anyway, the enemy was drawing closer and they had to return to the rest of the men.

‘Come on, we have to go.’

They stayed low as they crept away from the rocks and hurried back to the ambush site. A pale glow was spreading along the eastern horizon and by the time the enemy reached the position, the first rays of the sun would be in their eyes, making it harder for them to detect any signs of danger. Thomas was pleased there was no sign or sound of the men as they approached and it was only at the last moment that the tousled blond hair of Von Harsteiner rose up from behind the wall of a pen close to the farm.

‘Are they coming?’ the German asked eagerly.

‘They are.’ La Riviere smiled. ‘And there will be plenty to go round.’

A brief look of anxiety flitted across Thomas’s expression. The Frenchman seemed to have a reckless streak that might jeopardise the success of the ambush. He was too keen to fight the enemy. The task that La Valette had set them depended upon patience, stealth and a willingness to retreat the moment any skirmish threatened to get out of hand. They were to take prisoners, not supply them.

Once they had retrieved their mounts Thomas and La Riviere joined the party of squires on the left of the line. The knights at the other end, beyond the line of footsoldiers, were under the command of Von Harsteiner. The men stood ready and waiting, senses alert for the approach of the enemy. Thomas spared a quick glance at Richard; he was a few yards away, crouching behind a boulder, one hand resting on the pommel of his sword.

They did not have long to wait. A single figure appeared at the top of the ridge and cautiously advanced along the lane, peering right and left. He wore a conical helmet rising in a spike and carried a spear. As he reached the farm, he paused and looked over his surroundings carefully. At one point Thomas was certain that the Turk was looking directly at him and he kept perfectly still, waiting for the man to raise the alarm. Then he turned away and Thomas let out a soft sigh of relief. In the distance the sounds of battle from the direction of de Robles’s force intensified and helped to cover up any whinny from the horses, or the scrape of a hoof on rock. The Turkish scout suddenly left the track and entered the farm. They heard the sound of furniture being moved and then he emerged from the back of the farm with a couple of stools. Moving a short distance from the building he smashed one of the stools on a rock and started to build a fire.

Thomas looked over his shoulder and saw the golden hue along the horizon. He edged towards the French knight and whispered, ‘If he remains there, he’ll see us as the sun rises. We have to get rid of him.’

‘We could take him prisoner,’ Richard suggested. ‘And return to Birgu.’

‘We need an officer,’ La Riviere countered. ‘And the enemy needs a sharp lesson. But first we must deal with him.’

‘I’ll go,’ Richard said softly.

Thomas shook his head. ‘No. You stay here. I’ll do it.’

For an instant La Riviere looked surprised and then he gestured towards the abandoned farmhouse. ‘All right then, be my guest, Englishman.’

Drawing his dagger, Thomas crept forward, picking his way carefully through the stunted undergrowth which concealed the knights on the left flank of the line. Ahead of him the scout continued to arrange the splintered lengths of timber in a crude cone, and then tore apart some rags he had taken from the farm and pressed them into the gaps he had left between the lengths of wood. As he worked he frequently looked up, scanning the ground in the direction of the main harbour and occasionally looking back towards the ridge as he waited for his comrades to arrive. Thomas reached the small bam, little more than a shed, and moved slowly along its length until he reached the corner and could peer round to spy on the enemy soldier.

Once the fire was complete the Turk stood up, stretched his shoulders and then crossed the farmyard and leaned on the low stone wall that bordered the lane, presenting his back. Thomas waited a moment to see if he moved, but the scout remained where he was. He glanced both ways down the lane, and then settled on staring towards Mdina, where the spire of the church stood dark against the pink smear of the dawn. Thomas drew his dagger in an underhand grip and hunched lower as he paced towards the Turk, casing each foot down so as not to crunch any gravel under his boots. The sound of gunfire to the east was diminishing to a handful of parting shots as de Robles and his men broke contact and fell back towards Birgu. Then, when Thomas was no more than ten feet from the scout, a flicker of movement to his left drew his eyes and he saw a standard edging up over the ridge. The Turk noticed it too an instant later and half turned in that direction. The moment lie saw Thomas his eyes widened in alarm.