Malta's Guns

by Sam Barone

Antonio translated as Sir Annet spoke. But the words in French, matched by Antonio’s translation, left no doubt as to what the Knight intended.

  “And what about the clerk this morning?” The Doge had no anger in his voice, only curiosity. “He had murdered no one.”

  “Not yet, My Lord. But I felt certain that if Sir Antonio were taken prisoner by that wretched man, he would be dead within the hour. The Knights of St. John, and especially Grand Master Valette, expect much from Antonio in the future. I could not face the Grand Master if I let that fool take him.”

  “And if I order him arrested now?”

  After Antonio translated the Doge’s words, Sir Annet met his gaze, his eyes as hard and merciless as the ruler of Venice. But the words, when they came, were surprisingly soft and gracious. Antonio tried to translate the tone as well as the words.

  “That would be impossible, My Lord.” Sir Annet now had the hint of a smile on his face. “The wisdom and justice of the Doge of Venice are famous throughout Europe. After hearing the truth about what happened, no other decision but a full pardon for Sir Antonio could be promulgated by Your Most Serene Highness.” Sir Annet bowed once again. “I suggest, My Lord, it is time to set aside such trivial matters and consider the purpose of my audience with you and your council.”

  The Doge relaxed in his chair, a brief smile on his face from the subtle and clever words. “Perhaps that would be best, Sir Annet. Unless anyone on the Signoria wishes to speak further on the matter of Olivio and the clerk? Francesco?”

  All eyes went to Falieri. His wife, after all, had meddled in the affair. But for her actions, no one would have bothered about a low-level Arsenal worker killed in a tavern knife fight, even by a foreigner. A quick glance around the dais showed no interest or support for pursuing the matter. Nor did anyone in the Signoria care about an insignificant clerk, especially one that did Lady Masina’s bidding. She could always find another eager fool to serve her. “No, my lord. Perhaps it would be best if this unfortunate incident were forgotten.”

  “I agree with Dom Falieri,” Moro said. “And at another time, I would like to hear more of Antonio’s deeds in defense of Malta.”

  Antonio bowed once again. “Of course, Dom Moro. At your convenience.”

  The Doge’s head swung from Falieri to Moro. Antonio realized that he had just entered the political morass of Venetian politics. If Falieri’s wife wanted Antonio dead, then Moro would support him against Falieri’s interest.

  Moro no doubt enjoyed the embarrassing position Lady Masina had contrived for her husband. If she had been successful, and Antonio arrested or murdered, his death could be shrugged off. Alive, he would be an continual affront to the Falieri family. The Doge, too, would be satisfied. Falieri’s discomfort would weaken his faction.

  After Antonio translated, Sir Annet leaned back in his chair, the first time he had relaxed since the session began. “Sir Antonio will now lead the discussion in my place, my lord.”

  Antonio took a deep breath. From now on, he was on his own. Sir Annet would not intervene unless a problem arose. “My lords, the Knights of St. John need to rebuild the garrisons at Malta. Aside from the damage to the forts, almost all the cannons need to be replaced. Malta will require, to begin with, at least 50 new bronze cannons, mounted on compact carriages. 100 tons of gunpowder, and 2,000 iron cannonballs. The Knights will also need all the ancillary equipment that accompanies each cannon. These supplies should be delivered to Malta as soon as possible. I explained to the Grand Master that only Venice and the Arsenal have the skill and equipment to produce what we need in a timely fashion.”

  None of the Signoria, all Merchant Princes with established trading houses, showed any surprise at the size of the order. But Antonio knew he had their attention. So large an order would mean greatly increased profits for everyone at the Council.

  “In addition, the Knights require two hundred muskets, and two hundred long range arquebuses, with three hundred bullets for each. Also five hundred swords, pikes, steel cuirasses, and chest plates. There will also be future orders for other military equipment as needed.”

  “And the Knights have the gold to pay for such munitions?” The Doge let his doubt creep into his voice. All Europe knew the Knights of Malta could barely pay for their daily expenditures and their small fleet of galleys.

  “Yes, my lord. Now that the siege has lifted, contributions from all over Europe are pouring into Malta. The King of Spain now fully understands the strategic importance of Malta. As long as Malta stands, the Turks cannot enter the Western Mediterranean. The German duchies, the King of Austria, the Doge of Genoa, and the Pope in Rome have all pledged whatever funds they can raise for Malta’s defense. They all wish to see the island’s fortifications rebuilt as soon as possible.”

  A frown appeared on the face of the Doge. Any mention of Genoa or Rome usually signified a conflict of interest for Venice. “And do the Knights expect equal generosity from Venice?”

  The first key question had arrived. “Yes, and no, my lord. The Grand Master understands that the Republic will wish to do its share in the defense of the Mediterranean. Since the wealth of Venice is well known, he is asking for a sizable contribution from Venice, fully equal to that of Genoa and Rome. The Grand Master is also asking that a reasonable price be set for each of the military items they purchase. They are willing to pay 15 percent above the cost for each item, whether it be a cannon or a musket. Provided, of course, that the orders are filled with all possible speed. If those conditions can be agreed upon, then Venice’s contribution would be lessened.”

  Antonio caught the guile in the Prince of the merchant princes. Venice would set the price high enough so that the 15 percent would be additional. Of course any “contribution” would not come from the accounts of the individual members. Such a sum, if ever allocated, would come from the general treasury.

  “I am sure that we can agree on the cost of this equipment,” the Doge said. “But as for any contribution, that will have to be discussed.”

  “My lord, I have been instructed to tell you that I must be the one who sets the prices. With my experience in building and selling cannons in England, and what I have learned since then at the Arsenal and Malta, the Knights expect me to calculate the true cost of each item. Then the profit percentage will be added.”

  The Doge did not like the sound of that. “And if your costs do not agree with ours?”

  “Then that particular item will be purchased elsewhere.” Antonio had not glanced at Sir Annet for some time, and he did not do so now. “Since the siege began, all the great powers have been building up their forces and equipment. By now, every foundry in Europe is casting guns as quickly as possible. It is clear to all that the Turks have set their sights on the western Mediterranean. If the Republic cannot accept a reasonable profit, then those purchases will be made elsewhere. We would prefer to purchase them here, because of the stockpiles and capabilities of the Arsenal. That is why we came here first.”

  Antonio glanced around the dais, and saw nothing but frowns. No one wanted to deal at those prices.

  “It is the Republic’s policy to set its own prices, and to determine the quality of its goods.” The Doge’s voice held a hard edge. “Nor do we see the need for any contribution to rebuild Malta. We continue to set our own course. If the Knights of Malta cannot accept our usual arrangements, then they should take their business elsewhere.”

  “I am sorry to hear that, my lord,” Antonio said. “Please excuse me. I must discuss this with Sir Annet.”

  He leaned close to whisper in the Knight’s ear. “Did you follow all that? They seem unwilling to negotiate.”

  “Yes, I heard him. Tell him about Cyprus. And that we are ready to return to Malta if an agreement cannot be reached.”

  Antonio nodded his head, as if in understanding, before straightening up and facing the Doge once again. “My lord, the size of the contribution is small, only 10,000 ducats a year. It is known that Venice pays
the Sultan 8,000 ducats a year, to safeguard Cyprus. It is likely that all those ducats given to Malta would remain in Venice, used to offset the purchase of arms. After all, the Arsenal has vast stockpiles of weapons and gunpowder. Is it not better to earn a smaller profit of 15 percent on a large order, rather than 100 percent of nothing?”

  The island of Cyprus had been part of the Republic for many years. But situated so close to the Ottoman Empire and so far from Venice, it was always a temptation for the Sultan to seize it by force. The phrase “in the wolf’s mouth” described the plight of Cyprus. The jaws only needed to close and Cyprus would be gone.

  “Whatever arrangements we make with the Sultan are our own affair,” the Doge said. “10,000 ducats a year to Malta . . . out of the question.”

  Antonio stared down at the table for a moment. “My lord, I hope you reconsider. If the Republic is not part of the coalition to rebuild and defend Malta and the central Mediterranean, then Venice will find itself alone should the Turkish fleet set sail next year.”

  That, of course, was the Grand Master’s cudgel. If Venice did not join the coalition, it would stand alone. Spain and Genoa would not lift a finger to help the Republic if it didn’t join in the alliance. Only the urgings of the Pope in Rome had brought the Spanish and Germans to the table. And if the Sultan had a choice of targets next year, an unallied Venice would be very enticing.

  “I hope his lordship will reconsider,” Antonio said. “Malta is in great need of your help. Perhaps it would be best to adjourn for today and reconvene tomorrow morning. Sir Annet and I will discuss the matter further.”

  The Doge glanced around the dais. “We, too, will discuss this further. We can meet tomorrow at the same time.” He stood. “Sir Annet, Sir Antonio.” He left the dais as the chamberlain held open the door. The other members of the Signoria rose also, and followed him out of the hall.

  Sir Annet made the Sign of the Cross once again, then rose. “Come, Antonio. We do have much to discuss.”

  Chapter 60

  An hour after Sir Annet left the Hall of the Senate, the Doge entered his private chamber. Gone were the ermine robe, satin slippers, and jeweled crown. Except for the quality of the white lace shirt, he could have passed for a worker in the Arsenal. With a nod to his chamberlain, he sat at a small round table, where business of a more private nature took place.

  The tabletop, large enough to accommodate six, held no food or drink – the risk of poison worried the thoughts of every member of the Signoria. After making certain the Doge had everything he needed, the chamberlain escorted two men into the room before he retired discreetly, closing the door behind him. Dom Moro and Dom Falieri took chairs, positioning themselves as far as possible from each other.

  The three men might be the real rulers of the Republic, the ones who made the decisions that affected its future, but they didn’t like each other. More important, they didn’t trust each other. At this stage in their political lives, one could only advance at the expense of the other.

  The Doge turned to Falieri first. “So, what do you think?”

  “I think it is embarrassing to be dealing with one so young. I’m told this Antonio is not yet eighteen years old. Yet the Knight allows him to negotiate.”

  “Yes, he’s young,” Moro said. “But already stories about his efforts in the siege are being told in the Piazza. The sailors and soldiers from the Knight’s galley have visited every tavern and whorehouse in Venice, enjoying free drinks and telling tales of the siege. As for de Clermont allowing this Sir Antonio to negotiate, it does imply trust. And with Antonio doing the talking, our ambassador Knight can wave away any misunderstandings. So that works in Sir Annet’s favor.”

  Moro hardened his voice. “Unless you think it would have been better if your wife had succeeded in arresting Antonio?”

  “Stop wasting time,” the Doge cut in before Falieri could respond to the insult. “Antonio may be young, but he obviously holds some sway in the Knights’ councils. They made him a Knight in their order. And I just spoke with one of the masters at the Arsenal. When I pressed him, he admitted that Antonio may know more about cannon making than most of our own artisans. With what he learned during his stay at the Arsenal, Antonio probably knows the cost of every nail and musket ball.”

  “His uncle should be punished,” Falieri said, “for allowing . . .”

  “Forget Antonio.” Moro rapped his fist on the table. “If it wasn’t him, it would be someone else. We all heard the threat. Either we join this alliance, or they abandon us. The Turks still have more than 100 war galleys afloat and at least another 100 supply ships. If they sail up the Adriatic, they can blockade Venice and launch a land assault at their leisure, while the rest of the Sultan’s army marches overland. If we are under siege, not even the Pope will try to help us. Not unless we contribute to this coalition. And if you think our Venetian mercenaries will fight to the death, or that they can hold off the infidels for four months as the Knights did in Malta, you’re mistaken.”

  “I agree with Moro about that,” Falieri said. “After this defeat at Malta, with or without this coalition, the Sultan is not likely to try and attack Sicily or Rome, not with Spanish forces backing them. And Malta will restore its defenses before the Sultan can launch another assault there, if he even has the stomach to try again. Before, Malta stood alone. Now Spanish boots and steel are on the island. No, he will go after Cyprus first, then come here.”

  Cyprus was the richest jewel the Republic possessed. Trade with the island remained invaluable. But it also was at the farthest end of the Republic’s empire, more than 1,300 miles, with the Ottoman Turks only a few miles away on the mainland. Losing Cyprus with its profitable trading routes would be a disaster, a potential calamity that constantly haunted the sleep of every member of the Signoria.

  “We can buy the Turks off,” the Doge said. “We can allocate more funds to the Sultan.”

  He didn’t use the word tribute, though each man understood exactly what the payments were.

  “So rather than give funds to Malta,” Moro argued, “we give more to the Sultan? What is the sense in that? Each year he demands more. Soon the day will come when the old wolf wants more than the few golden eggs we hand him. He’ll want the neck of the goose itself.”

  “If we help Malta, the Treasury will be nearly emptied,” the Doge argued. “If another crisis arises, we’ll have no funds left to deal with it.”

  “As Antonio suggested,” Moro countered, “15 percent is better than nothing. Besides, it’s merely their first offer. We could counter with 50 percent, and settle for 35. That would be profitable enough.”

  “I don’t believe the Knights will seek to buy what they need elsewhere,” Falieri said. “Only the Arsenal has what they want, in the quantities they need, and can deliver it. It will take months for cannons and supplies to journey from Spain and the German Duchies to Malta.”

  “I don’t think we should have anything to do with this coalition,” the Doge said. “Offending the Sultan might bring his wrath down on us.”

  “His wrath didn’t win at Malta,” Moro said, “even though the Knights were outnumbered more than five to one. Besides, by now his army is in disarray. He’s not going to do anything against Malta or Venice this year, and probably not next. That would give us more than enough time to pacify him. Even if we contribute to this so-called alliance this year, we can always find some excuse to halt the payments next year or whenever we choose.”

  The Doge glanced from one man to the other. “No, I agree with Falieri. I will tell the Knight we will not contribute. But we are willing to sell him cannons at 50 percent profit. Then we can begin the negotiations.”

  Dom Moro shrugged. A single glance at their faces told him the decision was final. He knew better than to argue, accepting the defeat. He had expected nothing better from the Doge, but Moro had hoped Falieri would grasp the realities of the new situation. “I believe our next meeting with de Clermont should be very interest
ing.”

  Chapter 61

  Antonio sat with Sir Annet on the little balcony of what five months ago had been Antonio’s own bedroom. With the empty chamber behind them, at least they could talk in private. When they’d left the Palace, they found a crowd had filled the Piazza, all of them cheering the Knight of Malta. Antonio saw that de Clermont was uncomfortable with such displays, but the Knight nodded to the throng and waved his hand in greeting.

  The people, however, wanted more, their sheer numbers pressing in on the Knight and his party. Finally Sir Annet mounted the steps to rise above the square and turned to address the throng. He motioned for Antonio to stand at his side.

  “Men and women of the Republic, citizens of Venice,” Sir Annet began, speaking slowly as if he were unsure of his Italian. “By the grace of God, Malta has defeated the infidels. All of Christendom can take heart in our victory. And now, thanks to the Holy Father in Rome, an alliance has been formed, one that will resist the Turks and defend all of Italy from their terror. Malta will be rebuilt stronger than ever. Today the Knights of St. John have turned to your Republic for your prayers and assistance. The time to stand against the soldiers of the Sultan has arrived. With God’s help, we cannot fail to be victorious.”

  He raised his fist in the air. “God bless Malta! And God bless Venice!”

  The people roared their assent, the powerful sound reverberating throughout the square and across the canal. Many repeated the Knight’s words at the top of their voices. With a gracious wave of his hand, Sir Annet moved down from the steps. Antonio and Marcel led the way, forcing a path through the crowd. Nevertheless, hands reached out to touch the Knight as he passed, and it took some time before Antonio managed to lead the way out of St. Mark’s square. Once free, they hurried down the lanes, almost breaking into a run, until they reached Marco’s house.

  As soon as he returned to his new residence, de Clermont removed his armor and summoned Antonio to the balcony. “What did you think of the meeting? I saw that the Doge did not care for our demands.”