by Sam Barone
The Knight gave Antonio a few moments to study it. “Even before the siege began, the Grand Master realized that the current defensive positions were inadequate for the future. As you know, the villages are in ruins, leveled almost as badly as St. Elmo. They may not even be worth rebuilding. St. Michael is not much better. So the Grand Master intends to rebuild Malta’s defenses on the Mount. He will replace St. Elmo with a walled city that will be completely fortified and with room for everyone. From those heights, our new city can control both Grand Harbor and Marsamuscetto Bay.”
Fascinated, Antonio studied the scale the designers had produced. Sir Oliver let Antonio take it all in. “My God, such a fortress . . . it would control all the high ground, both harbors, the sea! No enemy guns could ever have the height advantage. If the walls were thick and high enough, it would be . . . invincible!”
Sir Oliver laughed. “It would be strong indeed. And it will be built. This rough plan is only the first step. Much more work needs to be done. But when it is completed, the villages will be empty and all the inhabitants will live and work within the safety of its walls.”
Reality returned, and Antonio met Sir Oliver’s eyes. “But such a project would take years, many years, and the cost would be enormous.”
“No, it will have to be built within a year, at least the basic fortification. Then that could be expanded as time permitted. The Turks will not return this year, probably not for at least two more years. They suffered heavy losses, and it will take time to train replacements. I’m sure many of their cannons will also need to be replaced. But their fleet is mostly intact and they will come back, so work must commence at once.”
Antonio didn’t know what to say. He could have nothing to do with such a vast project.
“You may not know, Antonio, that Viceroy Toledo’s relief ship had a special passenger. Master Designer Salvatore Laparelli and one of his sons braved the danger to answer a summons from the Grand Master. We have been in communication with him since last year. Laparelli has been selected to do the actual design of the new city.”
Antonio had never heard of Laparelli, but Europe had thousands of castles and fortifications, and hundreds of master designers. “What has all this to do with me? I know nothing about designing cities.”
“I think you could be a great help to Signor Laparelli,” Sir Oliver said. “The Grand Master wants the city designed to resist another, possibly even greater siege. That means the military aspects are paramount. This time, the interior layout will be constructed around the powder magazine and weapon depots. We learned all too well the problems that can arise if the magazines are not properly built and located. Also, the Grand Master wants someone who understands what cannons will be needed, how many, and where they should be positioned at the various locations.”
Antonio thought about that. Poorly designed and badly located magazines had resulted in dangerous delays delivering gunpowder and cartridges to the defenders fighting on the walls, one serious explosion, and several smaller accidents. A magazine should be constructed with maximum safety in mind. Many of the problems he had encountered could have been avoided.
As for placing the cannons, Antonio did indeed understand the best places to locate guns of various sizes, how many would be needed, and the proper caliber. Too large a gun could be as problematical as one too small. Suddenly, Antonio realized that he’d become one of the very few experts alive in modern siege warfare. And if Malta was the greatest siege in history as the Knights claimed, then anything Master Gunner Antonio said would be heeded.
“I’d like to help, Sir Oliver, but I must return to Venice and then to London. I’ve already spent too much time away from home.”
The Knight rested his hand on Antonio’s shoulder. “Do you still intend to search out the man who attacked you and killed the other boy?”
“Yes. I intend to see the murderer dead and by my own hand. Tozzo died merely because he was with me that night. He had done nothing to offend Olivio. That’s why I want to return to Venice as soon as possible. If Olivio learns I am alive, he might flee Venice. Or worse, he has powerful friends who might help him avoid justice.”
“You could leave vengeance to God, Antonio. Surely He will see that Olivio pays for his sins.”
Antonio shook his head. “Honor, my honor, demands that I seek him out. And what would God say to me if Olivio murders other innocent men in the future, when I could have brought him to justice? He already has killed at least two men, and probably murdered even more.”
Before Sir Oliver could reply, Grand Master Valette entered the parlor. A squire accompanied him and helped remove the Knight’s armor and sword. Antonio had never seen Valette without his breastplate. He did not appear any less imposing.
“Sir Antonio, thank you for coming. I see Sir Oliver has shown you our plan to rebuild Malta.” The Grand Master joined them at the table, one hand resting on the map. Ruffio and the squire brought chairs, and Valette sat down with a sigh of relief, motioning Antonio and Sir Oliver to take seats as well. The hospitable gesture did nothing to reduce Antonio’s wariness.
While it would likely take months for someone Valette’s age to fully recover from the arduous events of the last four months, a day of rest had made a remarkable difference. The siege had sapped the strength of everyone on Malta.
Despite everything, Valette looked well refreshed at the end of yet another long day. Especially when he no longer needed to appear strong for his followers. Antonio wondered exactly how old the man was.
“Yes, Grand Master. It seems a bold plan.”
“The value of Malta is now apparent to everyone in Europe,” Valette said. “I’ve spoken with the Viceroy’s Spanish envoy. Every ruling house and noble in Europe is committed to sending funds to help rebuild Malta. The King of Spain, the Doge of Genoa, and the Holy Father in Rome have agreed to do everything they can to strengthen Malta’s defenses. As long as Malta stands free, the Turks cannot control the Mediterranean. Christendom now understands that the next battle will decide the fate of Europe.”
“You think the Turks will return?” Antonio hadn’t considered the impact of the Turkish defeat. Now it seemed obvious that a mighty empire would not just give up its long term plans for conquest, even after such a major setback.
“One battle has been won,” the Grand Master said, “but there will be more. The Turks will return to the western Mediterranean, either to attack Malta, Sicily, Italy, or even your friends in Venice.”
“I have few friends in Venice, Grand Master. Only my uncle and his family. For the rest, the whole Republic can sink into the sea.”
The Grand Master nodded. “Yes, Venice is both a problem and an opportunity. That is why I have asked you here. I would like you to participate in our future negotiations with Venice. Sir Annet de Clermont will be our ambassador to the Republic and to Rome. He leaves tomorrow for Brindisi and Venice. I would very much like for you to accompany him and act as his deputy and interpreter.”
“I thought Sir Annet spoke Italian.”
“He does, but he is not as fluent as an ambassador should be. You appreciate how important the subtle nuances of Italian are. And Sir Annet knows little about dealing with the greedy merchant princes who rule the Signoria. That responsibility would be yours.”
That took Antonio by surprise. Never would he have expected this as the reason for the Grand Master’s summons. “What could I do? I have no experience dealing with the Signoria.”
“No, but I understand you have much experience dealing with the Arsenal. Sir Annet’s main business will be to establish a connection between the Arsenal and Malta. We need new cannons, vast stores of gunpowder, muskets, swords, all the impedimenta of war. The easiest and fastest place to obtain what we need is from the Republic. And who better than yourself to deal with the Arsenal? They have a long history of charging exorbitant prices, delivering less than what was paid for, and substituting inferior goods. We cannot allow those practices to continue, nor can w
e afford to waste a single gold coin.”
Antonio could well believe the Arsenal’s double-dealings. Even in his short time there, he’d seen the inflated prices and low-quality substitutions. Every customer, whether individual or state, might be charged a different price for the same cannon. Or the price might simply be raised with no recourse by the buyer. His father would be astounded at the shoddy dealings of the Arsenal.
“The Signoria members who manage the Arsenal have the support of the Doge,” Antonio said. “They might simply say that they do not need your business.”
“Yes, that is how it has been in the past.” The Grand Master sighed. “If we protested their high prices, we were told to shop elsewhere, even when they knew we had no other recourse. But that is no longer true. We now have a cudgel to use against them. One that you can use.”
“Grand Master, much as I would like to help, I plan to go to Venice only long enough to attend to . . . a private affair. Then I will return to my country, to England. My father, actually my uncle, is anxious for my return.”
“Antonio wants vengeance against the Venetian who attacked him,” Sir Oliver said, “and killed his friend the night before the siege began.”
The Grand Master’s face showed his displeasure. “You should leave revenge to God, Antonio. Your Italian countrymen have a saying – before you seek vengeance, dig two graves.”
“I’m afraid I cannot accept that, Grand Master. This is something I must do. I won’t murder him. I will challenge him to a duel.”
Valette glanced at Sir Oliver, who shook his head, confirming Antonio’s determination. But the Grand Master had ruled the Order of Knights for many years and understood the concepts of duty and honor. And duels. “If you are resolved to do this, as long as it is done honorably, then I will pray to God for your success. But after your duty is satisfied, you would be free to assist Sir Annet. He spoke highly of you and looks forward to your help.”
“Sir Annet is a brave Knight, Grand Master. But I must return to London . . .”
“To do what, Antonio? To work in your father’s foundry? Is that what you want for your future? Would you prefer that to helping all of Christendom vanquish the Turks? Here on Malta you helped defeat the Sultan’s army, fighters whom most in Europe thought invincible. According to your fellow soldiers, your knowledge of siege warfare is considerable and it should not be wasted. If the Mediterranean falls to the infidels, even England might not be safe.”
Whatever words Antonio had planned to say died on his lips. He hadn’t thought past killing Olivio. What did he intend to do back in London? Work for his father? Argue prices with impoverished ship captains? Could he even return to that life?
Valette saw the hesitation. “Antonio, you have the skills of a master gunner, fighting experience that is unique even on Malta, and the ability to deal with the Venetians. Your wits are quicker than most, and you know how to use them. As I told you that first day we met, I do not believe your arrival here was by chance. God sent you to us, and you did not fail His test. As a warrior for God, you can fulfill a major role in the downfall of the Turks and perhaps save the lives of thousands of Christians.”
Antonio now realized why no one refused Valette, why men had volunteered to go to their deaths on St. Elmo simply because the Grand Master asked them. He understood fighting men, from simple soldiers to exalted commanders. And how to motivate them. But Antonio remained silent, trying to think of what to say.
“What the Grand Master asks, Antonio,” Sir Oliver said, “is not a lifetime commitment. We ask only that you help the Order for six months, perhaps a year. I’m sure your family would understand. I could send an emissary to your father to explain the situation in person. We will have many such messengers leaving Malta in the next few weeks. And I can assure you that you would be helping England. Besides, you witnessed the ferocity of the Turks. Do you think that England’s small army can withstand such fighters? Even the sea might not protect our homeland. If the Turks can sail the length of the Mediterranean, they can cross the English channel. Julius Caesar did it 1,500 years ago, and with far fewer and smaller galleys. Would it not be better to stop the infidels here, than on England’s shores?”
Caesar had indeed crossed the English Channel twice, landed his tough legions, and despite being greatly outnumbered, crushed the Britons. Could the Turks actually threaten distant England?
The distance was vast, but Alexander the Great had marched his infantry across half the world in two years, more than 3,000 miles. Already the Turks had besieged Vienna, a great city less than 1,000 miles from London. The Sultan had ships by the hundreds and modern cannons and muskets. Antonio felt his resistance weakening. He recognized the same sinking feeling in his stomach that the journey to Venice had created.
“The decision to make you a Knight of Grace,” the Grand Master continued, “was not made lightly, nor is that honor often bestowed. Many of the Knights spoke in your favor, especially Sir Oliver, who first perceived the benefit you could bring to the Order. Now it is your brothers in arms who need you.”
Many had counted on Antonio’s help during the siege, from Sergeant Ruvo to the grim Sir Otto. The Grand Master saw clearly that the war had not ended and that danger still threatened. If Antonio could help that effort, he would have to try. The Turks had to be stopped from overrunning Europe and perhaps reaching the English shores.
Antonio sighed. His return to London would have to wait a little longer. “Very well, Grand Master. I will do what I can to help you . . . help the Order, for as long as I can, for at least six months.” His voice hardened. “But I must first take care of my affairs in Venice. That means that my companions and I must be on the next vessel for Venice, as Sir Oliver promised me. If that cannot be accepted . . .”
The Grand Master raised his hand to halt Antonio’s words. “My misgivings aside, I accept your service as Deputy Ambassador to the Republic of Venice.” Valette looked at Sir Oliver. “Does that meet with your approval?”
“Yes. And I believe that the Queen of England would approve also. Antonio represented his country with honor during the siege. He will do the same for Malta and England in Venice.”
“Then it is settled.” The Grand Master leaned back in his chair. “Two galleys will depart Malta tomorrow afternoon. So far no one in Europe knows of our victory. One goes to Rome. Sir Annet and the second galley leave for Venice at the same hour. The two will travel together until they reach Sicily’s coast. You and your companions should be ready by midafternoon.”
Valette looked with kindness at Antonio. “There is one more request that I would make of you. I dine with Laparelli tonight, and we will talk about the future. I would like you and Sir Oliver to meet with him at dawn, and give him your ideas about the new fortifications. I want him to understand that we know what we are asking.”
Antonio bowed. “Of course, Grand Master. I will give signor Laparelli as much time as I can, as long as I can board the galley before it departs.”
“Then go with my blessing, and with God’s.”
Antonio accepted the dismissal. At least he was still bound for Venice, and soon he and Olivio would meet face to face. Until he finished that business, nothing else mattered.
Back at Sergeant Ruvo’s house, Antonio told them about the galley departing the next day, his plans for Olivio, and the possibility of his remaining in Venice for some time.
With tears of joy in his eyes, Ruvo hugged Antonio. “Sir Antonio, Deputy Ambassador to Venice! I will miss you.”
Ruvo’s wife and daughter had left Birgu yesterday, to rejoin relatives living in Mdina. That saved Antonio from any awkward goodbyes to Rusana. Not that she truly cared for Antonio. He had tried to talk to her several times in the last few weeks, but she made it clear that she had no interest in Antonio. She only wanted to return to her mother’s village, and time to mourn her lost husband and babe.
“So you might stay in Venice for some time?” Martin asked.
“It’s
possible,” he said. “But you and Will need not accompany me back to Venice. I will have more than enough protection from the Knights. I’m sure Sir Oliver would help you reach England.”