Jean and Tadini walked along the perimeter of the walls. They skirted the Palace of the Grand Master and walked past the Post of Germany and the Post of Auvergne. From there they walked south past Aragon to the Post of England. They stood together in front of St. Anthony’s Gate and looked out toward the encampment of Qasim Pasha.
“Look there,” said Tadini, pointing to the south. “The Turks have begun to dig their trenches toward the walls. They are too far out for fire from our arquebuses, and a little too close for our cannons. But, soon they will be in range, and we will be able to open fire from the walls and the towers.”
“They’ll be slaughtered. There’s no protection at all down there.”
“Quite right,” Tadini said, “It’s just as I told you. They are fooled by the fact that they have not yet come under fire from the walls, so they’re digging straight trenches that offer no protection. It will bring them in faster than digging a zigzag pattern, but by nightfall, or early tomorrow, they’ll be close enough for us to fire on them. We’ll fill the ditches with their bodies.”
“Is this what you brought me here to see?”
“No. Not entirely. This Bastion of England is in poor repair. Their King Henry has sent virtually no money or knights. I think the Turks have found this out. And, though the Turks may not know it, there are only nineteen knights in the langue of England. I fear the Turks may be successful in making a breach here, and then with so few knights to defend this area, they could enter the city en masse.”
“Can you not stop them? Stop the mining?”
“I will be doing all I can. My men are preparing the vents and the tunnels to counter-mine them right now. But, still there is always the possibility that we might fail. Or, that we might be occupied elsewhere at the time. Pick your best men, and prepare them for the possibility. You would be a mobile force and respond wherever you are needed. I’ll speak to the Grand Master to get approval. But, I think it might be critical that you are ready for this eventuality.”
Jean nodded. “D’accord.” I agree.
Tadini turned to go. He said, “Au revoir, Jean.”
“Addio, Gabriele.” Jean descended into the city and ran back to Melina’s house.
The situation in the city had deteriorated since Jean had first entered the streets earlier in the morning. The Rhodians were in a state of serious panic. Most had not yet been born during the siege of 1480, and even those who remembered the earlier siege had not been exposed to such powerful weaponry. The streets that had been practically empty before were now filled with men and women shouting and crying for help. Though there had been little damage considering the massiveness of the attack, the noise and the flying debris had sent fear through the town. People ran about the streets looking for strong stone buildings in which to hide. The knights of Aragon had been sent to guard the entry to the hospital because there had been a surge of citizens trying to enter the protection of its massive walls and heavy roof. Renato had to block the doors and call for help from the knights, so that his wards would not be overrun. In the small streets, dogs were running wildly about, and the cattle that were penned up were shrieking and kicking at their enclosures, insane with fear from the noise and the fires that burned in the streets. Only a handful of incendiary bombs had exploded inside the city itself, and they merely burned themselves out without setting fire to any of the stone houses.
Jean made his way through the winding maze of houses and shops. He stopped a group of three knights from the Inn of Aragon and said, “Get these people off the streets! Return them to their homes. They will be safer there. Do it at once!”
Then, he began to run toward the Jewish Quarter and the small street where Melina’s house stood. As he rounded the final corner to their home, he watched in horror as a cannonball landed directly on the roof connecting his and his neighbor’s house. The huge stone ball crushed both the houses and sent thousands of fragments of stone flying in all directions. Jean felt the sting as a shard of slate from the roof struck him in the forehead. His hand reflexly flew up to protect his eyes. When he pulled it away, it was covered with blood. He ignored the wound, for his whole being was focused on the devastation; the two little houses were mere piles of stone and wood. Their common roof sagged from the impact, making a slate saddle between the two structures. Cries came from within his neighbor’s house, where the force of the ball had collapsed all the walls. The large intact hemisphere that rested on Melina’s house had crushed the walls to powder. It lay there in the center of the roof like a fist from the sky.
Jean could feel the tears welling in his eyes. His sorrow overwhelmed his anger as he ran the last few yards to the pile of rubble. He began to claw at the debris, trying futilely to make a hole to the interior. He cried out, “Melina! Melina!” Why had he let Tadini detain him? Why hadn’t he moved them as soon as the barrage had begun?
But, it was no use. He could not find a place to enter the house from the street. Then, he remembered the alley that separated the house from the next row to the rear. He scrambled up over the fallen front wall and made his way along the roof tiles. The horrid stone ball lay in his path, and he clawed his way around it. Blood trickled into his right eye from the wound in his forehead. He swiped at the jellied clots to clear his vision.
In his mind he saw images of the babies and Melina crushed to death beneath the oak table. Why didn’t I take them to the hospital? How could I leave them? His guilt drove him forward, and he began to pry loose the roof tiles where the stone ball had broken through the rafters. He found several tiles loose enough to remove and threw them over his shoulder. Finally—it seemed like hours to him—he made the hole large enough to squeeze his bulky frame through the gap. His armor held him up as he lowered his legs through the opening. With his feet dangling below, he took off his sword and the breastplate. Finally, he was through. He dropped the few feet to the floor. As he crouched in the small space between the crushed roof and the floor, he called out Melina’s name again and again. There was silence in the tiny room. Motes of dust circulated in the air and Jean began to cough.
When his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he could make out the oak table near the wall. The massive stone was pressing the rafters down upon it, and the table itself was flattened to the ground. Jean’s eyes filled with tears, and a sob gathered in his throat as he saw the pieces of a small rag doll caught under the edge of the table.
He crawled to the table and clawed to get a grip beneath the edge. Blood blurred his vision. He shouted their names. “Melina! Ekaterina! Marie!” Over and over, he called them, whimpering, “What have I done?” Jean pulled and strained at the table. His fingers became bloody again as he tried to raise the impossible weight.
Suddenly the room became completely dark for a moment as a figure blocked the small opening in the roof. Jean turned in time to see the shape of a man drop through the opening to the ground behind him. He whirled reflexively, more to protect his little family than himself. The man rushed at Jean, knocking him to the floor. Two strong arms wrapped around his body and held him tightly.
“Jean! Jean! Arrêtez! Arrêtez!”
Jean struggled to break free of the powerful grip. He tried to drop his right hand to his dagger, still in the scabbard in his belt.
“They’re gone! Jean! Écoutez-moi! They’re gone!”
Jean went completely limp, and slumped to the floor. John Buck, Philippe’s lieutenant and Turcopilier, released his grip and sat in the dust next Jean. He realized that Jean thought he meant that they were dead. “Non, mon ami. They’re not here. Listen to me. They’re fine. Melina took the babies to the hospital. They’re safe with Renato. She asked me to come and find you, so you wouldn’t be worried.”
Jean sat on the floor, still panting. The two men sat together in silence for a moment. He wiped the tears from his dusty face and hugged John Buck. Then, without a further word, they rose and climbed back into the daylight. Jean recovered his armor and gloves. The two men climbed down from the
roof and walked back to the street.
They had reentered another world. The air was filled with the blast of cannon, and the shattering of stone as the huge balls impacted the walls and the city streets. Stone fragments flew past them. People seeking shelter from the barrage rushed wildly about the streets.
Slowly, he and Buck became aware of the cries for help coming from the house next door. There seemed to be people trapped inside. Jean turned to help.
Buck put his hand on Jean’s shoulder. “Va-t-en, Jean. Allez-y!” Go on, Jean. Go away. “I’ll get some knights to help these other people. Go to the hospital and see Melina. It’ll be all right.”
Jean stood and hugged Buck with both arms. Then he turned and hurried back through the Quarter to the hospital to see his babies.
Earlier in the day, Melina could not bear being in the small, dark room anymore. She had gathered the twins and what clothes she could carry, and left her home. She rushed to the hospital and brought the babies to the second floor. There she found Doctor Renato on his rounds. She went to his side and said, “Excuse me, Doctor, but I need your help.”
Renato turned, surprised to see Melina there holding her three-month-old babies in her arms. He took the bag of clothing from her and set it on the floor.
“What is it, my dear?”
“Oh, Doctor Renato, please can we stay here? The cannons and the noise are terrifying us. I am so afraid for my babies. Please let us stay. I would be able to keep watch on the twins, and perhaps I can help when the casualties start arriving.”
“Why, of course, Melina. You’re always welcome here. Take the babies to the room at the end of the ward. There are no windows, and it’s surrounded by inside stone walls. They should be completely safe there even if a cannonball were to hit the hospital directly. You’ll be able to see them and look in on them as much as you need to. And, yes, I certainly will need your help very soon.”
Melina hurried to the room and placed her babies in a makeshift bed on the floor. She surrounded them with blankets and soft cloths. Then she propped the door ajar. With Ekaterina and Marie sleeping, she went back in the ward to help Doctor Renato.
Over the next hours, she would find herself completely occupied with her work in the hospital ward. She snatched the time necessary to feed and care for her babies. It was immediately obvious to her that working in the hospital with Renato was to be the only way she could keep her babies safe and preserve her sanity during the days of terror.
Jean accelerated his pace as he neared the hospital. He was practically running by the time he ascended the outer stairs. He rushed into the ward. He saw Renato crouched over a wounded citizen. Blood was running onto the stone floor and puddling near the man’s feet. Jean knelt down next to the doctor and, without a word, reached out to help hold pressure against the badly lacerated leg. The old man had been cut by a shard of stone as he ran through the streets. The impact had torn through his skin and muscle, breaking both bones beneath the knee. Renato would have to complete the cannon-inflicted partial amputation as soon as he had stabilized the injured man. It took a moment for Renato to realize that it was Jean who was assisting him. He turned his head toward the little room, and nodded. Jean looked over his shoulder at the closed door. Renato called for help, and another knight came to relieve Jean. Jean rose, placing a hand on Renato’s shoulder. “Merci, Docteur.”
Renato nodded again and returned to his work. Jean walked down the center of the ward, calming himself as he went. He paused outside the room and took a long breath. He said a silent prayer of thanks before entering the small room.
When the door swung open, Melina involuntarily jerked awake. She had fallen asleep while nursing the babies. Ekaterina and Marie were still sucking loudly at her breasts as Jean knelt down on the makeshift bed. He straightened the blankets and helped Melina adjust her position. Then, without a word, he slid down on the blanket next to his little family and held the three of them in his arms. He put his cheek against the top of Melina’s head and smelled her hair. It was so familiar to him that it brought tears to his eyes. Even the grime and the dust of war could not disguise the feel and scent of the woman he loved.
“What’s happening out there, Chèrie?” Melina asked after a few minutes.
“Not good. Not at all. The Turkish cannons are firing without stop. We destroyed many of them today, but they just replace them as fast as we destroy them. This hospital is going to be filled with wounded by tomorrow morning. And we have not even begun to fight. When their soldiers try to enter the city—as they surely will— there will be more wounded and dying.”
Melina cuddled closer to Jean and held her babies tighter. They had stopped feeding, and were now fast asleep in her arms. Still she did not put them down, but contented herself to hold them while Jean held her. She would hold onto this tiny island of comfort. If only a few minutes of peace and warmth could be hers that night, she would gladly embrace them.
Rhodes
July and August, 1522
Suleiman struggled to contain his anger. The losses of his cannons and so many of his finest artillerymen was staggering. Though he could not blame his Aghas, his frustration and rage needed an outlet. Though the knights were the obvious target, his Aghas bore the brunt of his anger as they stood before him.
“This is how I am greeted? This is what you have to show me? My best artillerymen slaughtered at their guns? Half my fine cannons lie shattered and melted in the sands of this accursed island?”
Nobody answered. Not even Piri Pasha could bring himself to meet the Sultan’s eyes. This was what he remembered so well from the days of Selim. Was this Selim’s blood boiling in the veins of the son?
Suleiman stood with both fists clenched upon the desk top, elbows locked, supporting his rigid body as he glared at each of the men in turn. He breathed deeply several times, and then, incrementally, began to relax his muscles. Slowly he regained control; his face began to soften, and the tight string of muscles in his neck disappeared. His fingers uncurled and he pushed himself away from the table.
Piri looked around the tent. The eyes of the other Aghas would not meet his. All of the Sultan’s generals were backed up to the wall. They stood with their hands folded in front of them, eyes cast down to the carpet. Each stared at his folded hands. Still nobody spoke.
“Well, it seems as if our mighty cannons are little more than thorns in the sides of the knights. Pinpricks! We cannot count upon them to bring down these walls. Mustapha, what is the disposition of our miners and sappers?”
“Majesty, we have begun to dig. I have directed the miners to run their ditches straight to the walls. It will move more quickly, this way, than having to run angled ditches. They have dug deep trenches, and we have covered them with wood and shields to protect the men from gunfire from the walls and the turrets. But, it is very slow going. I have poured thousands of slaves and even some Azabs into the work.”
“And how are they progressing?”
“They are almost through the first, the outer ditch. They have to cross a high escarpment and then the second, inner ditch. But, as they get closer, they also get within range of much more accurate fire. Much of the time they are exposed, and the losses, I am sorry to report, are heavy.”
“How many dead?”
“More than five hundred dead and wounded in this first week of digging, Majesty.”
Suleiman recoiled at this information, and turned his back. After a few moments, he returned to the table. He motioned the Aghas closer. They approached with care, finally gathering in a tight knot around the battle plans. Bali Agha took over the briefing.
“Their most powerful battery is here,” he said pointing to the charts, “at what they call the Tower of St. Nicholas. The knights’ cannons are deadly accurate, and can reach in any direction. I have moved twelve of our best cannons to the shore across the Galley Port from the tower, and have been bombarding day and night. We have had no success, Majesty. The massive reinforcements to the fortre
ss have swallowed our cannonballs as if they were pebbles hurled from a sling. In the daytime, our cannons can only fire for an hour before the counterfire makes it impossible to remain at the site. We have to move our batteries and reestablish our firing patterns. We’ve tried night attacks, but with no more success. They see our muzzle flashes and our fuse fires and are able to silence us.”
“And?”
“So, we have given up on this tactic and moved the batteries back. Our greatest strength is the fighting skills of the Janissaries. We absolutely must make a hole large enough to use our overwhelming numbers of men against their few knights.”
“Where would this be?”
“We have reason to believe that there are weaknesses at the Posts of Auvergne, Aragon, and England. Here, Sire, opposite Achmed Pasha and Qasim Pasha’s sectors.” He pointed to the south and southwest corners of the fort. “We are moving fourteen of our heaviest cannons to this sector, for in a few days—a week at the most—our earthworks will overtop their battlements by at least ten or twenty feet. Once we have mounted our cannon atop the earthworks, we will be able to fire down directly into the city. A breach there or the weaker Post of England could be our way into the city, Sire.”
“Very good. Keep at it, and tell me what progress is made. I want to be there when the bastion falls and our men enter the city.”
The spirits of the Aghas lifted a bit, for it seemed that Mustapha had managed to give the Sultan some hope. Murmuring could now be heard around the table, as the Aghas pointed and discussed the plans. Suleiman turned to Bali Agha and said, “And what of the sorties? Have we captured or killed many of the knights?”
Bali Agha moved to the front of the group and looked directly at Suleiman. “No, my Lord. There are no captives, and no dead knights that I know of. Each day and night, they have sent out small raiding parties of five or ten knights. Occasionally, as many as twenty. These knights know the terrain, and have been able to move undetected into our lines. There are many houses and stone walls behind which to hide, and they are very successfully ambushing our working parties. I’ve had to send my Janissaries out with the work details building the ditches and the earthworks to provide protection. But, each time, these devils strike where the parties are unguarded. We have thousands of miners at work, Sire, and I cannot provide a Janissary for each of them.”
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