‘Maria?’ Richard started. ‘Impossible. She’s dead. Stokely said so. How can she be alive?’
‘That’s her,’ Thomas replied simply. ‘As sure as I live.’
‘Where?’
Thomas raised his hand and pointed. ‘The woman in the green.’ The finery of her clothes marked her out from the procession of frightened islanders and Richard picked her out at once. She was still some fifty yards away. ‘You must be mistaken.’
Thomas did not reply at once, fearing that Richard was right, and that he had allowed his deepest desire to see her again trick him. He stared hard, and his certainty that this was Maria grew with every step she made towards the gate. There was only one way to tell for certain and before he knew what he was doing, Thomas turned away from the parapet and strode across to the stairs leading down into the passage behind the gate.
‘Sir Thomas!’ Richard called after him. ‘Wait.’
He ignored the squire and quickened his pace, his boots echoing off the stone walls of the staircase. A hand grasped his shoulder. It was Richard.
Thomas shook him off and continued down the steps.
‘What are you going to do?’ Richard called after him but made no attempt to follow.
Thomas did not know, only that he had to be certain. Already the doubt was creeping back in and he dreaded the deadening blow to his heart should he be wrong. He emerged into the gloomy passage at the bottom of the stairs and saw that it was filled with people streaming past from the main gate. The woman and her retinue could not yet have reached the gate, Thomas reasoned. He stepped to one side of the passage and waited, his heart beating swiftly and a light, almost giddy feeling filling his head.
Then the man carrying the staff came out of the shadow of the passage. A moment later there was the woman and now he could see the fine patterns of green lace sewn on to her cloak. Her hair hung down over her shoulders, showing faint streaks of grey. She paused, not more than five paces from him, and looked around the interior of the fort. Her eyes, dark and piercing, passed over Thomas and the parties of soldiers carrying off the last of the supplies that had been heaped in the courtyard that morning. Lastly she looked with pity on the frightened huddles of civilians squatting on the flagstones, some openly crying with despair. The small group of servants who had been following her caught up and were pressed on by those behind, and their mistress stepped forward into the courtyard.
The image of Maria that Thomas had carried in his mind for over twenty years was not that of this woman, yet there were enough similarities to feed his burning desire for it to be her. He felt the urge to call out her name, but he could not bring himself to and thereby shatter the possibility that this was her. The woman took several more paces, each one slower than the last, until she stopped and stood quite still. Despite the people filing past either side of her, including those of her household, a sense of stillness bound her to Thomas and he was blind to the swirl of detail that surrounded them both, and deaf to the voices of the soldiers and the sobs of the civilians. Slowly she turned round and then, as if not quite daring to meet his gaze, her eyes tracked across the flagstones that separated them and up his body towards his face. Her lips moved slightly as she stared at Thomas.
All doubt was banished now and Thomas slowly paced towards her and stopped at arm’s length, not knowing what to say. What words could express twenty years of longing that had warred with the need to accept that the past could never be revisited?
‘Thomas. .’ she said softly.
He half smiled, then caught himself and nodded. ‘Yes.’ Then he smiled again. ‘Yes. . Maria.’
Her expression was filled with shock and bewilderment. ‘How can it be? How is it possible?’
He wanted to hold her, felt that he should, yet it was so long since they had last touched that it seemed he had forgotten how to and did not dare do the wrong thing and risk a rebuff. But he must say something.
‘I have been recalled. La Valette sent for me. I came back, from England. I had hoped, prayed, to see you again.’
At once there was a frightened look in her eyes, as if she had suddenly discovered herself to be standing on the edge of a precipice. For an instant Thomas dreaded that she was going to recoil from him, turn away and flee. But the expression swiftly faded from her face and she smiled uncertainly.
‘Now you see me.’ She held out her hands.
Thomas glanced at the fingers, still slender as he remembered them but now there were small creases and a slight waxiness to the skin that told of her age. Nonetheless, he took a half pace towards her and took her hands in his, and felt a tremor run through him at the cool softness of her flesh.
‘I was told you had died,’ he said without thought.
‘Dead?’ She laughed. ‘No. Quite alive. For the present. And you? I have often wondered what became of you once you left. I imagined that you had returned to that estate you spoke of. Found yourself a wife perhaps, and had a family.’ She spoke with forced cheerfulness.
‘No wife and no family. But I have my estate at least.’
The stilted conversation was like a dam holding back a deluge of questions, declarations and things that demanded to be said.
‘I thought of you often,’ said Thomas. ‘Every day.’
She smiled, then the smile faded and she released her light hold oil his fingers and let her hands fall back to her sides and shook her head. ‘I tried to forget you. I tried. .’
‘Sir Thomas!’
The shout instantly drew him back from the seething turmoil of emotions and he turned to see La Cerda hurrying across the courtyard towards them. A servant in a dark tunic with the white Star of the Order on his breast followed at his heels. Thomas was torn between his need to hold on to this fragile link with Maria and his duty. He glanced at her pleadingly.
‘Stay there, just a moment, I beg you.’
Maria nodded and Thomas turned to La Cerda. ‘What is it?’
‘A message from Birgu.’ La Cerda indicated the servant. ‘Speak.’
‘Yes, sir.’ The servant drew a breath as he tried to stand erect and deliver his instructions. ‘The Grand Master sends his compliments and requests that you return to St Angelo at once, sir.’
‘At once?’ Thomas frowned. He glanced anxiously at Maria. ‘But I am not finished here. There is still work to be done.’
‘Sir, the Grand Master demands your presence,’ the servant insisted.
La Cerda could not help a thin smile. ‘You have your orders, Englishman. I think I can take charge of my own command again. I thank you for your assistance. Now, you’d better go.’
Thomas gritted his teeth and then nodded. ‘A moment.’
He turned away and stepped towards Maria. ‘You heard. I have to go. But I must see you again as soon as possible. We need to talk.’
‘Talk?’
‘Of course, there is so much I want to say, so much I want to hear. Say you will speak to me.’
‘Very well.’
Thomas glanced round the courtyard and saw the door to the small chapel. ‘Take shelter in there. I will come and find you as soon as I can. I swear it.’
He took her hand and pressed it tenderly, feeling the tremor in her flesh and the flush of heat in his breast.
‘Sir Thomas, please,’ the servant said. ‘We must go.’
He released her hand and spoke softly so that only she might hear. Twill be back.’
She nodded and turned away, gesturing to her small retinue to accompany her to the chapel. Thomas watched her briefly and a moment later Richard appeared from the entrance to the tower. He stood to one side, a short distance away, and glanced at Maria’s back with a calculating expression.
As the boat crossed the harbour, Thomas willed himself not to turn and look back, as if in the hope of seeing Maria standing at the parapet gazing after him. Despite his stillness, his mind was a chaos of memories and wild hopes. It shocked him that even at his age, with all that he had experienced and the hardened outlook to the world that he had made himself adopt, he was still so easily filled with the wild emotions and unrealistic ambitions of youth. It seemed that the old adage was true: a man only grew older, not wiser.
Beside him Richard also sat in silence, unnaturally still, no doubt marshalling his thoughts at this unexpected turn of events. When the younger man finally spoke, as the boat drew close to the looming mass of St Angelo, Thomas could not help a weary resentment at the inevitable probing into his past, and his heart.
‘Why did Sir Oliver lie about her?’
Thomas shrugged. ‘Revenge perhaps. He knew that I would grieve at the news of her death.’
Richard reflected a moment. ‘The question is, does her presence in any way affect our real purpose in being here?’
‘Why should it?’
‘It has made the situation more complicated for you, and I need your help in getting into the archives. I do not welcome any distractions.’
‘I will hold to my part,’ Thomas replied.
‘Just promise me that you will not be reckless with your life before I have secured what I came for.’
‘That rather depends on the Grand Master. We shall know his will soon enough.’ Thomas turned and pointed out to sea. The white sails and dark hulls of the Turkish fleet were only a few miles off the coast and they had altered course to the south and were sailing slowly past the mouth of the harbour, well beyond the range of any of the cannons mounted on the walls of the Order’s forts. ‘And it depends on them.’
Richard placed the tip of his thumb between his teeth and thought on. The boat rounded the rocks of St Angelo and the oarsman pulled towards the small jetty at the foot of the fort.
‘What do you intend to do about the woman?’
Thomas shook his head. ‘I have no idea. It is hard enough to countenance the fact that she is alive and she is here. I must speak to her and find out what is in her heart. It has been many years, and our parting was not on happy terms. For all I know her affections for me may have dimmed long ago. I can only see her again and discover the truth.’
‘And if the truth is that she still. . loves you?’
Thomas frowned. ‘I honestly don’t know. If I have been given a chance to put right those wrongs that I have carried on my conscience then I will, with full heart.’
‘And if her affections are no longer yours to have, what then?’ Thomas turned to him with a wry expression. ‘Do you think I would lose the will to live? You forget, I have long since grown used to the idea of merely living. And now I have things to live for. The Order and Maria. I pray that I may save them both and live to enjoy the satisfaction of having done so. Does that put your concerns to rest, Richard?’
‘For now.’ Richard turned his gaze towards the open sea. ‘’Tis a pity that I failed to complete my mission before the trap closed.’ The oarsman backwatered one blade and pulled hard with the other and the small craft turned beam on at the last moment and rubbed gently against the tarred ropes alongside the jetty. The servant sent to fetch Thomas leaped on to the jetty, mooring rope in hand, and tied it securely to a post before helping the knight and his squire ashore. Thomas brushed down the creases in his cloak and gestured to Richard to follow him up the narrow flight of stairs leading up into the fort.
The Grand Master was in his study with several other knights, clustered about the window as they watched the main body of the Turkish fleet inching across the calm sea. The rearguard was still some miles to the north and would not pass the harbour for some hours yet. Thomas indicated to Richard to remain with the handful of squires and servants waiting outside the office.
‘There must be at least three hundred ships,’ Thomas heard one of the knights estimate as he approached.
‘At the very least,’ a taller man replied, whom Thomas recognised as Marshal de Robles, the senior military officer of the Order and one of the men who had been a rival to La Valette before the latter had been elected to the post of Grand Master. Thomas had expected to see Stokely in attendance as well but there was no sign of him.
When La Valette caught sight of Thomas he nodded discreetly and then turned to address them all.
‘The enemy is making for the south of the island. It is clear that they intend to land in Marsaxlokk Bay, or some of the smaller inlets along the adjoining coast. We can’t hope to prevent them gaining the shore but we can try to delay them. Accordingly, I have given the order for Marshal de Robles to take a thousand men and shadow the enemy fleet as it passes along the coast.’ He faced the marshal. ‘You may fall on any attempt to land but you are not to risk a general engagement. Strike quickly, kill as many as you can, and then fall back before they can be reinforced. Is that clear?’
‘Yes, sir. But the men’s blood is up,’ de Robles added. ‘They will want to test themselves against the enemy as soon as they can.’
‘Then it is your duty to restrain them. They will have their chance to prove their valour soon enough. ’
‘Yes, sir. I will keep them firmly in hand.’
‘See that you do.’ La Valette indicated another of his knights, a striking-looking man with shoulder-length blond hair. He looked to be no more than thirty and wore a neatly clipped moustache. He smiled as the Grand Master singled him out.
‘Chevalier La Riviere. You have been tasked with commanding a smaller, separate force of mounted men. It will be your job to ambush and harass the enemy once they have come ashore and the marshal falls back to Birgu. You, too, must take no unnecessary risks. I just want the enemy to think that we have men waiting behind every rock and wall on the island to fall on them and cut their throats. This contest will be as much a battle of nerves as it is.1 c onventional siege, and subterfuge and trickery will have as much a part to play as courage and skill at arms.’ He paused and looked round at his officers. ‘This will be a fight to the death. Outnumbered as we are, the only route to victory is to maintain the will to resist longer than the Turks can maintain the will to conquer. Make no mistake, this struggle will be as bitter, savage and brutal as any in history.’
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.