Malta's Guns

by Sam Barone

  Together they would plan their future as man and wife. The prospect of marrying Gianetta excited him, and he swore not even a war with the Turks would keep them apart. He would not rest until Gianetta stood at his side in the safety of England. Until then, she would help him find a way to make his own mark in the coming battle against the Turks.

  Chapter 64

  Dom Francesco Falieri stepped out onto the balcony of his villa and felt the tug of the brisk north wind against his ermine-trimmed cloak. Cooler weather had already brought a chill to the evening air, but at noon the sun and the warm cloak made for a pleasant day. The fresh smell of the green sea, matched against the sunny sky spotted with white clouds, provided a welcome contrast from the rather gloomy walls of his private office, located within the inner walls of his suite of rooms.

  Despite its luxury, Falieri had never liked the house, its glaring opulence enjoyed mainly by Masina. For the last few years, he’d used his residence only for work and an occasional place to sleep. He much preferred spending his evenings with his current mistress at the small domicile he maintained near the Palace.

  Nevertheless, the balcony encompassed a corner of his residence, and provided the occupants a splendid view of both the Doge’s Palace and St. Mark’s Piazza. Falieri had no trouble seeing or hearing the crowd of Venetians as they applauded the speech just delivered by Sir Antonio Pesaro from the steps of the cathedral.

  The distance was too great to hear the words, but from the reaction of the Venetian citizens, Antonio’s reading of the letter from the Grand Master of the Order was well received. That is, as Falieri reminded himself, as presented by Sir Antonio, Knight of Grace of the Order of St. John Hospitallers, and deputy ambassador to the Venetian Republic.

  Lady Masina and her son, Duilio, sat side by side on the upholstered sofa. Servants carried it out each morning and brought it in at night, to ward off the dampness. Mother and son watched the spectacle, sharing a dark red blanket to ward off the sea breeze.

  Two half-empty wine glasses rested on the small table in front of them. The speech meant nothing to them, mere words from the foolish Knights of St. John to please the low-bred crowd of equally foolish idlers who frequented the Piazza.

  Falieri, of course, had heard it all this morning, when Antonio presented a copy to Dom Moro to deliver to the Signoria. The Doge, Dom Girolamo Priuli, had refused to meet with an underling Deputy Ambassador, merely saying that affairs of state allowed him no time.

  Now, after seeing the Knight’s galley depart for Malta, Antonio had mounted the steps and read aloud the words of the missive.

  But Falieri knew the young man had arrived at the Palace bearing two letters. The one intended for the citizens of Venice had been treacherous enough. In it the Grand Master’s ambassador, Sir Annet de Clermont, praised the brave Venetians for joining the fight against the Turks and thanked the Republic’s citizens for their generosity to the Knights of St. John and Malta.

  The fine words were little more than a subtle warning to the Signoria. The Knights could reach out directly to the citizens of the Republic, should the Doge decide to turn away from the Alliance or resort to any other mischief.

  Not that either Falieri or Moro cared about the people of Venice. They would do as they were told, or the mercenary forces that ringed the islands and maintained order would be brought in. It had happened before.

  No, what had embarrassed Falieri was the second missive Antonio had delivered to the Signoria. That one, also penned by Ambassador de Clermont, after the usual honorifics and praise for the Doge and the Republic’s ruling council, had referred to Antonio Pesaro. Its gist declared that the Deputy Ambassador was a much-beloved and trusted son of both the Grand Master and the entire Order of the Knights of Malta. The Grand Master would pray every night that no accident or illness befell Sir Antonio during his stay in Venice.

  Apparently Antonio was destined to play a much greater role in the Order. The wording left no doubt of the message de Clermont intended to convey – any misfortune that happened to the deputy ambassador would be harshly punished. A son for a son, went the old Italian saying.

  In Antonio’s case, it meant a son might be valued against an entire family. Falieri’s family. Or possibly the Doge’s. Even the other members of the Signoria would be at risk. The Knights of Malta were the one force in Europe that could enforce such a threat.

  In his private chambers, Dom Priuli had grasped its meaning as quickly as Falieri. The Doge, his voice harsh with anger, had rebuked Falieri for his wife’s attempt on Antonio’s life and warned Falieri that he would pay dearly for any further ventures.

  “Keep your wife out of affairs of state. The next time will be the last time. You and your family will be banished from Venice, and the Knights can hunt you down at their leisure. And tell Masina if anything happens, anything, she won’t be leaving on any golden barge.”

  The reference to Queen Cleopatra was plain enough – the Falieri family would leave most of their wealth behind. Stung by the criticism, Falieri clenched his jaw and said nothing, not even when Dom Moro looked away, no doubt to conceal a smile at his rival’s discomfort.

  Even before Antonio’s letter was received, the balance of power in the Signoria had shifted when two of Falieri’s supporters abandoned him and aligned with Moro, whose star was rising because of the Alliance. Now others might join him. Falieri had the nagging suspicion that Antonio might have carried yet a third letter, one meant only for Moro’s eyes.

  Falieri had discussed all this with his wife earlier. When he finished, Masina lifted her milk-white shoulders in resignation. Her calm demeanor sent Falieri into a second rage and for an instant he wanted to wipe the look of indifference from her face with the back of his hand. Only Duilio’s presence restrained him.

  Instead, Falieri had patiently explained all the possible ramifications to mother and son. “Our time for revenge will come, but we must wait until the political winds shift. The threat from the Sultan’s armies and galleys grows each day, and for now Venice needs the Knights and their cursed Alliance.”

  While Falieri brooded about all these events, the speech in the Piazza ended. Soon a small group pushed their way through the crowd and walked toward the Doge’s Palace. In moments Falieri saw that Antonio guided the little coterie, walking between his uncle Marco Silvestri and a young woman. Leading the way were the two English killers who accompanied Antonio wherever he went. Four guards strode behind him, including a young Knight of St. John in his resplendent armor.

  Not that any of them were needed, Falieri knew. Antonio might as well be on Malta guarded by the Grand Master and his host of Spanish infantry. Today, the deputy ambassador was the most popular man in Venice, certainly better liked than the Doge. Only Masina wished Antonio harm, and she knew better than to risk her position for a case of petty revenge. In truth, the clerk and even Olivio were nothing to her. Like every Italian, she could bide her time, years if necessary, before acting.

  Antonio’s party had broken free of the last of the crowd of well-wishers. Now they traveled at a fast walk, intent on returning to Silvestri’s house. Falieri saw that the English guards watched the roofs and windows of the houses they approached, wary of any archer who might be tempted. Both men fastened their eyes on Falieri’s balcony as they passed beneath.

  Masina leaned forward and observed the little procession. “Is that the one who killed Olivio, Duilio? He looks much older than what you described.”

  “Yes, that’s Antonio.” Duilio’s voice sounded weak and childish in the open air. “Who is the girl with him? Is that Silvestri’s niece?” His eyes remained fixed on the young woman matching strides with her companion. “She’s beautiful.”

  “His ward, Duilio.” Something caught Masina’s eye, and she leaned forward and stared as the group passed under the balcony. “This Antonio seems familiar to me. I wonder where I saw him?”

  “He was an apprentice at the Arsenal.” Duilio sipped at his wine. “Perhaps that i
s where you saw him.”

  Falieri snorted. As if his wife ever bothered with the Arsenal’s affairs. “He’s not an apprentice any longer,” Falieri said. “From the stories I’ve heard, he’s as much of a killer as his two English watchdogs.”

  “No, that’s not where I saw him. Somewhere else, I’m sure.” Lady Masina reached out and lifted her wine glass. “No matter, it will come to me sooner or later. I never forget a face.”

  Falieri ignored his wife’s remarks. She rarely noticed anyone not of noble rank.

  By now Antonio and his companions had passed beyond Falieri’s residence. Masina sat back and rested her head on the cushions. She patted Duilio’s hand. “Our time will come, my son. We can be patient. Perhaps we can arrange for you to meet Silvestri’s daughter. I’m sure she would appreciate your interest.”

  That, Falieri decided, might actually be useful. If Duilio could woo the little slut, she might provide some useful information about the Knights of Malta staying at her residence. “A very good idea, Masina. And Duilio, I think you should spend more time with your fencing master. The day might come when such skill may be needed.”

  After all, if Antonio challenged someone to a duel and wound up dead, not even the Grand Master could find fault with that. Still, that could wait, too, Falieri decided.

  He shivered from the chill. Without a word, he turned and entered the house, sighing as he felt the warmth of the fireplace. Yes, it would take a few years, but one day he would repay everyone who had insulted him. Antonio, Moro, even the Doge.

  It would take time and plenty of ducats before Falieri could reestablish his position of power within the Signoria. But on that happy day, it might be time for the Doge to meet his heavenly reward, ostensibly at Moro’s hand. Yes, that would be the perfect plan.

  Perhaps even the Turks could be enlisted in the struggle for control of the Republic. They would see the benefit of a powerful friend ruling the city. The Signoria frowned on unofficial contacts with the Sultan’s court, but with Turkish influence and help, Falieri could easily become the next Doge.

  And when those damned Knights were finally crushed, Falieri would have allied himself with both sides in the struggle. The people of Venice and the merchant princes of the Signoria would flock to his standard. Then he would take his revenge, drop by drop, as he watched his enemies screaming in pain and begging for death.

  Antonio would be the first to die, the first link in the chain of events that would bring him to power. As Falieri well knew, death is only the beginning.

  The End

  Appendix A

  Composition of Forces*

  The Knights Hospitaller

  The Ottomans

  500 Knights

  6,000 Spahis (cavalry)

  400 Spanish soldiers

  500 Spahis from Karamania

  800 Italian soldiers

  6,000 Janissaries

  500 soldiers from the galleys (Spanish Empire)

  400 adventurers from Mytiline

  200 Greek and Sicilian soldiers

  2,500 Spahis from Rumelia

  160 soldiers of the garrison of Fort St. Elmo

  3,500 adventurers from Rumelia

  100 servants of the knights

  4,000 "religious servants"

  500 galley slaves

  6,000 other volunteers

  3,000 soldiers drawn from the Maltese population

  11,500 Various corsairs from Tripoli and Algiers

  1,200 Maltese women and children

  Total: 7,360

  Total: 28,500 from the East (40,000 in all)

  *As described by the Italian mercenary Francisco Balbi di Correggio, who served as an arquebusier in the Spanish Corps during the siege.

  Afterword

  Most descriptions of the Siege of Malta are factual, based primarily on Ernle Bradford's "The Great Siege - Malta 1565." I heartily recommend that book to any interested readers. There are several other fine accounts of the siege, but this is the one I studied the most.

  Sir Oliver Starkey was the only English Knight present, and he was Grand Master Valette's Latin Secretary. A key fact was the arrival of two Englishmen with the Little Relief Force, men who used the names John Smith and Edward Stanley. Both those names were convenient aliases in England at the time.

  For the author, it was a happy coincidence, since I wanted to have Antonio's two English companions join him at Malta. The arrival of the Little Relief Force bolstered the Island's garrison when they needed it the most.

  And the most unbelievable of Antonio's exploits actually happened. The Turks did launch a galley strike across the harbor, and a hidden battery outside the forts, consisting of five guns, really did sink nine of the ten Turkish galleys, and prevented Senglea from falling.

  Malta's cannons did save the island for the defenders, and foreshadowed the end of the age of Knights, their code of honor, and way of fighting.

  Acknowledgement

  My thanks, as always, go to my wife, Linda, for all her help in the editing and proofing of this book. Her keen eye caught every mistake, and her determined quest for clarity ensured that the text is as readable as I could make it. It is no exaggeration to say that this book would not have been possible without her help.

  More thanks are due to Bill Morgan, my friend since the first grade. He gave the book its final read and spotted the lingering typos, and, as usual, under the rush of getting the book completed and ready for publication. Other early readers who provided great input were my niece, Laura Groch, and Richard Lynch, an Eskkar and sci-fi fan who provided much technical help.

  Of course, our two cats Varney and Alice helped out. Varney often climbed onto my lap, forcing a break in the writing process, but restoring a sense of calm to the author.

  Sam Barone

  Prescott, AZ

  About The Author

  Sam Barone

  Born and raised in Queens, New York, Sam Barone graduated from Manhattan College with a BS degree. After a hitch in the Marine Corps, he entered the world of technology.

  In 1999, after 30 years developing software, Sam retired from Western Union International, as VP of International Systems. He moved to Arizona, to take up his second career as a writer.

  Seven years later, the author’s first Eskkar story, Dawn of Empire, was published in the USA and UK. Five more novels and two short stories followed, bringing the Eskkar Saga to 1.2 million words.

  Next came Sam’s first science fiction, a novella entitled Jettisoned, the basis for Sentinel Star and Earth Besieged.

  All Sam’s stories are available in print or Kindle at Amazon.com

  History and reading have always been two of Sam’s favorite interests. He considers himself more of a storyteller than a writer. “I write stories that I would enjoy reading, and it’s a true blessing that others have found these tales interesting, informative, and entertaining.”

  Sam and his wife, Linda, and their two cats (Varney and Alice) enjoy life in beautiful Prescott, Arizona.

  Sam’s books have been published in nine languages and he has readers all over the world. He enjoys hearing from readers, and invites them to visit www.sambarone.com.