Copyright © 2002 by Anthony A. Goodman
Cover and internal design © 2002 by Sourcebooks, Inc.
Cover image © Bibliotheque Nationale, Paris, France/Bridgeman Art Library
This novel is a work of fiction based on historical events. Any historical names, characters, and incidents used fictitiously are done under the understanding that such representations are not meant to accurately portray actual people or events.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems—except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews—without permission in writing from its publisher, Sourcebooks, Inc.
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ISBN 1-4022-0150-8
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Goodman, Anthony A.
The shadow of God: a novel of war and faith / by Anthony A. Goodman.
p. cm.
ISBN 1-57071-904-7
1. Rhodes (Greece: Island)—History—Siege, 1522—Fiction. 2. Sieges—Fiction. I. Title.
PS3607.O564 S53 2002
813’.6—dc21
2002003854
Printed and bound in the United States of America
LB 10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1
This book could not have been written without
the love and support of my wife, Maribeth, and
my children, Katie and Cameron.
Men never do evil so completely and cheerfully as
when they do it from religious conviction.
—Blaise Pascal
Foreword
Cast of Characters
Prologue: The Traitor
Book One: Never the Twain Shall Meet
1. The Son of Selim
2. The Shadow of God
3. The Grand Master
4. The Palace of the Cannon Gate
5. The Stronghold
6. The War Camp
7. The Gathering Storm
Book Two: Two Strong Men
8. The Sultan’s Army
9. First Blood
10. The End of the Beginning
11. The Carnage
12. The Enemy Below
13. Into the Breach
14. Councils of War
15. The Sword of Islam
16. The Breath of Kings
17. The Last Traitor
18. Shoulder to Shoulder
19. The Beginning of the End
20. The Envoys
21. Face to Face
22. From the Ends of the Earth
Epilogue: “Nothing So Well Lost.”
Story and History
Glossary
Bibliography
Maps
Acknowledgments
About the Author
In the fifty years surrounding the turn of the sixteenth century, the world witnessed changes that surpassed almost any previous era in human history. East and West collided on a scale that spanned thousands of geographic miles, at a cost of hundreds of thousands of human lives.
In the Middle East, five centuries of Christian Crusades were coming to an end. The waves of European armies sent forth to protect Christians traveling to Jerusalem and to slaughter the Muslim Infidels were in retreat. The uses of gunpowder were expanded and refined. New cannons were forged with huge cannonballs, and remarkable accuracy. Muskets and rifles were used alongside the crossbow and lance. Fortifications were massively strengthened to meet the increase in firepower.
In the Holy Lands, the fortresses of Jerusalem, St. Jean d’Acre, and Krak de Chevaliers successively fell before the Muslim armies, driving the Christian Crusaders to still another far-off fortress and still another confrontation with Islam in Outremer. Ottoman Sultans of Turkey, who had conquered the lands of the Arabian Peninsula, embraced the fast-growing religion of Islam. At the dawn of the sixteenth century, Muslim and Christian, East and West, were about to meet in the final battles for dominion.
This is the story of those final days.
Though this book is a work of fiction, almost all of the characters in it are based on historical figures. Today, we are fortunate to have access to the writings of many contemporary observers who were on the scene at the time. There were ambassadors and envoys who spent decades at the inner court of the sultans. And there were soldier-writers who participated in the battles, who kept voluminous diaries and wrote detailed letters home, many of which have survived to this day. Though each observer may have been biased by his or her particular position in society, we can still get a well balanced and detailed picture of the period.
I believe that historical fiction can serve the dual, and not contradictory, purposes of entertaining as well as educating. History has too often been left to the writers of textbooks, and has been overburdened with dates and minutiae. The peoples of the era are often placed in a position secondary to the events. I hope that the story of The Shadow of God will allow an understanding of the hearts of the people as well as the events in which they participated.
Nearly five hundred years after the era of this story, much has changed in our world, and much has remained the same. Unfortunately, many followers and true believers of the great religions of the world have little tolerance for those who do not share their own specific beliefs. This intolerance seems to have intensified over the centuries. On many fronts, religion has severed its ties to spirituality; compassion is losing the battle against prejudice. There have been moments in time when some of the believers made room in their hearts for those with different beliefs. We can only hope that such a time might yet come again.
—Anthony A. Goodman, 2002
The Ottoman Turks
Suleiman. The Magnificent. Kanuni. The Lawgiver. Son of Selim, the Grim.
Piri Pasha. Grand Vizier of Selim and of Suleiman. Descendent of Abu Bakr, Companion to the Prophet, Mohammed.
Mustapha Pasha. Brother-in-law of Suleiman, Seraskier, Commander-in-Chief. Second Vizier under Piri Pasha.
Ibrahim. Greek slave and boyhood companion of Suleiman.
Ali Bey. Agha of the Azabs.
Bali Agha. Agha of the Janissaries. “The Raging Lion.”
Achmed Agha. Third Vizier. Albanian, promoted to Beylerbey of Rumelia after the capture of Belgrade.
Ayas Agha. Albanian. One-time Agha of the Janissaries.
Qasim Pasha. Son of a slave of Bayazid II. First in the ranks of heroes of Anatolia. Commands forces opposite Post of England.
Pilaq Mustapha Pasha. Kapudan (Admiral) of the Navy.
Cortoglu. A Corsair, Naval Chief-of-Staff under Pilaq. But, in reality, in charge of the entire naval fighting force at Rhodes.
Ferhad Pasha. Sent to Siwas to put down revolt by Shiite, Shah-Suwar Oghli Bey.
Hafiza. Suleiman’s mother, widow of Selim; called the Sultan Valideh.
Gülbehar. “Flower of Spring.” Suleiman’s First Woman of the harem, and mother of his first child, Mustapha.
Khürrem. Suleiman’s Second Woman of the harem. “The Laughing One.” Later to be named La Ruselanna, (the Russian) and finally known to history as Roxelanna.
Dr. Moshe Hamon. Physician to the Sultan. Son of Joseph Hamon, first of the dynasty of Sephardic Jewish doctors who were physicians to the Ottoman Sultans.
Knights of Rhodes
Grand Master
Philippe Villiers de L’Isle Adam. France.
Knights and Their Langues
Andrea d’Amaral. Chancellor. Portugal.
Antonio Bosio. Italy. Servant-at-arms. S
killed negotiator.
John Buck. England. Lieutenant to the Grand Master. Turcopilier (Commander of the Cavalry).
Henry Mansell. England. Standard bearer for the Grand Master.
Prejan de Bidoux. Provence. Prior of St. Giles. Bailiff of Kos.
Pierre de Cluys. France. Grand Prior.
Michel d’Argillemont. France. Captain of the galleys.
Jacques de Bourbon. Knight of Provence.
Antoine de Grollée. France. Truce envoy.
Nicholas Hussey. Provence.
Juan de Barabon. Commander of Post of Aragon.
Juan d’Homedes y Cascón. Aragon. Future Grand Master, Knights of St. John.
Gregoire de Morgut. Prior of Navarre.
Fra Jean de Beauluoys. “The Wolf.” Captures a Turkish brig en route to Rhodes.
Gabriel de Pommerols. Another Lieutenant of the Grand Master.
Fra Emeric Depreaulx. Sent to Naples to enlist help.
Fra Lopes de Pas. Aragon. Emissary to Suleiman.
Fra Didier de Tholon. France. Command of artillery.
Blasco Diaz. Portugal. Servant-at-arms to Chancellor d’Amaral
Thomas Docwra. England.
Nicholas Fairfax. England.
Jean Bin de Malincorne. France.
Henry Mansell. England. Standard bearer of the Grand Master.
Fra Raimondo Marquet. Emissary to Suleiman.
Nicholas Roberts. England.
Thomas Scheffield. England. Seneschal of the Grand Master. Commander of the Palace of the Grand Master.
Gabriele Tadini da Martinengo. Italy. Expert military engineer. In charge of countermining.
Residents of Rhodes
Leonardo Balestrieri. Latin bishop of Rhodes.
Bishop Clement. Greek bishop of Rhodes.
Apella Renato. Doctor in the Hospital of the Knights.
Bonaldi. Ship’s master, volunteers services and goods for siege.
Basilios Carpazio. Greek fisherman, offers to spy for the knights.
Domenico Fornari. Conscripted with his ships to help knights.
Command by Sector: All Knights Grand Crosse
D’Amaral. Auvergne and Germany.
Buck. Aragon and England.
De Cluys. France and Castile.
De Morgut. Provence and Italy.
Key Commands
Commanders of Posts
Guidot de Castellac. Provence. Tower of St. Nicholas.
Raimond Rogier. Auvergne.
Jean de St. Simon. France.
Fra Raimond Ricard. Provence.
Giorgio Aimari. Italy.
William Weston. England.
Juan de Barabon. Aragon.
Christopher Waldners. Germany.
Fernando de Sollier. Castile and Portugal.
Thomas Scheffield. Palace of the Grand Master (Part of the Post of France).
Bastions
Jean de Mesnyl. Auvergne.
Tomas Escarierros. Spain.
Nicholas Hussey. England.
Jean de Brinquier de Lioncel. Provence.
Andretto Gentile. Italy.
Commissioners in Charge of Supplies
Andrea d’Amaral. Chancellor.
Gabriel de Pommerols.
John Buck.
Legendary Characters
Jean de Morelle. Knight, langue of France.
Melina. Rhodian Greek, wife of Jean de Morelle.
Ekaterina and Marie. Twin girls, children of Jean and Melina.
Fictional Characters
Hélène.
Fishermen
Nicolo Ciocchi.
Petros Rivallo.
Marcantonio Rivallo.
Oh, East is East, and West is West,
and never the twain shall meet,
Till Earth and Sky stand presently
at God’s great Judgment Seat;
But, there is neither East nor West,
Border, nor Breed, nor Birth,
When two strong men stand face to face,
tho’ they come from the ends of the earth!
—Rudyard Kipling, Ballad of East and West
Rhodes, The Fortress of the Knights of St. John
October 27, 1522
Even the rabbit knows to remain perfectly still, yet is discovered by the mere opening of an eye. So the man risked betraying himself when he moved to reach inside his black cape and retrieve his crossbow.
Absolute darkness had reduced the visibility to little more than a few yards; and even then, it was only his movement that could reveal his presence on the ramparts. The guards on duty along the high walls of the fortress walked their tour with little concern about being seen. There had been no sniper fire for several days. No stray arrows. The enemy had, no doubt, realized its ineffectiveness at such a long range, for the walls of the fortress were high, and the surrounding ditches dug wide and deep. With the light fog for cover, and the cloudy winter sky louring upon them, the guards felt invisible. But invisibility works both ways, and the knights guarding the walls were well aware of that.
The Captain of the guard had been by within the past hour. He reminded everyone to be fully alert. Their losses had been heavy, and the bodies of three more knights had been buried that morning. They could ill afford to lose extra lives to carelessness, inattention, or neglect.
With great care, the man moved in from the cover of the Tower of Italy, at the east side of the Post of Provence. He made his way along the battlement, crouching low. His black cape trailed almost to the ground. The hood was pulled over his head. He held his crossbow tightly to his side as he made his way in the darkness. He stopped frequently, crouching down with his back to the massive stone wall. The surfaces were slick with moisture that had condensed from the cool night fog. He waited. Motionless. Each time he saw the passing guard move out of sight, he resumed his stealthful walk in the shadows. The night was very still, and for that he was glad. The absence of any breeze would make his shot easier, more accurate.
Though, for this shot, accuracy was hardly an issue.
Suddenly, and quite unexpectedly, he came across a gathering of three knights talking quietly on the battlement near the wall overlooking the Post of England. They should have been asleep, for it was well past midnight. They would surely question him if they found him out so late. He was momentarily seized with panic, and several drops of sweat trickled down the middle of his back beneath his robes. The drops coalesced and puddled for a moment above his hips, then were absorbed by the fabric of his shirt. There, the sweat made a cold and uncomfortable wet spot that held his attention. He tried to regain his focus, but fear held him immobile.
Finally, as the knights moved off, he stepped quietly from the darkness, and made his way quickly down a wooden ladder, off the wall, and into the street below. He decided to leave through the Jewish Quarter of the old city, a warren of narrow and twisting streets with many shoddy buildings and alleys. The houses were built of gray and brown stones, pressed side by side with common intervening walls and roofs. There were many alleyways and a few courtyards. Most of the houses were worn and poor. Some housed several families.
At this late hour, the streets were dark and silent. Mounds of rubble made for many detours. The man thought that if he were caught here, he could find an excuse. He knew several women he could name, and claim that he was on his way to a late-night rendezvous. No one could check. The knights’ vows of celibacy were crumbling after three months of facing death at every moment. Many of the young men secretly kept women in the town. Some not so secretly. Who would doubt him?
Now he needed to get to the Post of Auvergne, where he would fire his arrow. The wall between the Tower of St. George and the Tower of Aragon faced the camp of Ayas Pasha.
Again, he hurried his pace. He went past the Post of Aragon and St. Mary’s Tower at the corner of the Post of England. He hid his crossbow again and pressed on. From time to time, he would duck into a darkened doorway or the entrance to an alley. He was breathing too hard for the
slight exertion. He felt the dull thudding of his heartbeat. In the silence of the night, his heart sounded to him as if it were echoing off the walls. He rested until his breathing and his heart slowed a bit. Sweat was cooling on his skin, and it made him shiver from the chill of it. His robes were becoming progressively soaked inside and out. He pushed these distractions from his mind and moved on again, making his way directly to the fortress wall in the middle of the Post of Auvergne.
He was exactly where he wanted to be, for he had made this shot many times before. He waited in the streets below the wall for the next passing of the guard. While still hidden, he loaded his arrow into the crossbow. Then, he would need only to mount the wall, aim to the sky, and let loose his shot. He had made many practice shots during the daytime as well. Those shots he could make in plain view. All who had seen him assumed he was firing at the Turkish heathens besieging the city. After so many practice runs, he knew exactly where the arrow would fall: directly amongst the sentries in the camp of Ayas Pasha.
He pulled the arrow from its place in his waistband and checked to see that the parchment message was tightly tied to the shaft. It would not do to have it unravel in flight from the incredible acceleration delivered by his armor-piercing crossbow. He shuddered at the thought of the message tearing off the arrow shaft, fluttering slowly into the hands of one of the knights. That image in his mind melded quickly into another: his own body as it would be torn slowly to pieces on the rack if he were, indeed, caught.
He shook off the thought with a shiver, and pulled his robes tighter about him. The blackness of the garment and the blackness of the night blended perfectly. No fires were visible from the streets of the quarter. The man used this to his advantage. He was able to move off the street and climb the short, wooden ladder back onto the wall as surely as if it were noon, so well did he know this place.
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