The Shield and The Sword

by Ernle Bradford

  These islands, largely barren today, still had their woods and fertile soil. Of Khalkia a Greek botanist had earlier written: ‘There is a place there so exceedingly fruitful that crops mature very early. As soon as one crop has been reaped another can be sown. Two harvests are gathered every year.’ All of the islands yielded some profit to the Order, Khalkia also being famous for its shipbuilders, Piskopi producing sage and other herbs from which scented unguents were made, and nearly all of them producing in the small folds of their valleys grain, fruit and vegetables. All round the islands the sea was full of fish—mullet and garfish, octopus and squid, lobster and prawn, and innumerable varieties of rock fish. Grain was one of the only essentials that the Knights later found that they had to import. This they often did by treaties and agreements reached with local rulers on the Turkish mainland—a practice that was actively discouraged by several Popes. But the Knights, who were living ‘in the front line’, had learned long ago in Syria and the Holy Land that strictures from Rome meant comparatively little, and that it was the judgment of the man on the spot that really counted.

  The form that the Order took in Rhodes, based on its earlier organisation, was to prove so efficient that it would last for many centuries. It was the backbone that held the Holy Religion together, and in essence it still survives under the unimaginably different conditions of the twentieth century. At the head was the Grand Master, now, in Rhodes, the Prince of his Sovereign State. The senior officers of each Langue or Tongue were known as Piliers. They, together with the Bishop of the Order, the Prior of the Conventual Church, the Bailiffs of the Convents, and the senior Knights, the Knights Grand Cross—formed the Council, or advisory body to the Grand Master. Not all would be present in Rhodes at the same time, some being away on their estates in Europe and others attending to duties in the hospitals that were strung along the pilgrim routes. All, in any case, if summoned to the defence of the island, were obliged on pain of disgrace to report to Rhodes as soon as possible. The Knights of Justice, the military knights from the great houses of Europe, were required, as has been seen earlier, to give proof of their noble blood. The Novices, the young knights who were just beginning their term of service in the Convent, were required to pass two years of probationary period, during which they must serve one year in the galleys of the Order. This training was essential, for the novices did not necessarily remain in Rhodes but might well return to the priories or the lesser bailywicks and commanderies in the countries of their origin. There they would have to report themselves to their superiors. The latter might second them to other duties either military or diplomatic. But there was never any doubt left that the minute the call came from their small island home in the eastern Mediterranean they must report for duty and make all haste to the defence of the Order. Some, on the other hand, might remain the whole of their lives in Rhodes, this being dependent not only upon their inclination but on the manpower situation in the fortress city.

  The Piliers or senior officers of the eight Langues were each assigned a special function, thus the Pilier of Italy was the Admiral, of France the Hospitaller, of Provence the Grand Commander, and of England the Turcopilier or commander of the light cavalry. Inevitably there was some rivalry between the Langues, just as there was equally a fierce competitiveness between individuals to rise to the top and acquire one of the principal offices. The method had its advantages as well as its drawbacks for the rivalries, when kept under control by a firm Grand Master and Council, served to promote efficiency in battle. On the other hand the competitive spirit, particularly between hot-blooded young noblemen, could lead to quarrels and dissension and even to open rebellion. This indeed happened during the rule of Fulk de Villaret, and in 1317, the man who had done such great service to the Order was removed from office, and a rival Grand Master voted into his place. But all in all there can be little doubt that the system worked; if it had not it would never have survived the centuries that lay ahead.

  The Grand Master, who was naturally a Knight of Justice, was primarily elected by his fellow Knights of Justice. All must have spent three years’ sea-time in the caravans, three in the Convent, and have thirteen years’ seniority in their office. The election was not as simple as it sounds, for there was also separate voting in the Langues, the Chaplains and Serving Brothers being entitled to the vote. The final result, after three different stages of voting, produced a grand total of sixteen electors who cast their votes for the next Grand Master. In addition one Knight was elected to give the casting vote should the sixteen reach an equal division in their votes. It is evidence of the intensive lobbying that must have gone on that the seventeenth vote was quite often called into play. What is not surprising, in view of the preponderance of French in the Order, is that during the Rhodian years nearly seventy-five per cent of the Grand Masters were French.

  What must never be forgotten is that although later in Rhodes, and later still in Malta, the Order became more relaxed in its ways it was still pre-eminently a religious Order and as strict in its disciplines as any community of monks. In the thirteenth century, as Riley-Smith points out, ‘The brethren retired to bed after complines, rising for matins. They slept clothed in woollen or linen garments and must be silent in the dormitory.’ In fact, it seems from quite an early date that they did not all sleep in a common dormitory. Certainly by the time that they had erected their elaborate buildings in Rhodes, with separate auberges or hostels belonging to each Langue, it will probably have been only the novices who shared a common dormitory. The Knights kept all the Feasts of the Church, as well as a number of others specifically related to the Order. A conventual Mass of St John the Baptist was held once a week, and the deaths of all brothers were commemorated on the appropriate anniversary each year. The brothers were bound to abstain and fast at all the ordained times, although those who were engaged on caravans or other campaigns were allowed to eat meat, eggs and cheese—except on Fridays or during Lent. On the other hand on ordinary days it is clear that they ate quite well—and in view of the requirements put upon them it is hard to see how they could have managed otherwise. Meat, fish, eggs, cheese, bread and wine provided the staple diet, although the rules of the Order specifically stated that they should only be provided with bread and water. This meant that there was always an easy punishment available to discipline a member, who for his part could hardly complain since that was all the rule said that he should get to eat in any case. At a later date it becomes clear that the austerity of their life became considerably relaxed; but in these early years in Rhodes, constrained as they also were by financial problems, it is likely that the Knights and the other brethren came nearer to the original rules than they had done for a long time past.

  The first necessity on taking up their residence in Rhodes was to improve the fortifications. These, though adequate for the capital of a small island, could hardly be considered strong enough for the home of the Order, for it was almost inevitable that in due course their activities at sea would provoke a Moslem reprisal. As the defences stood they were adequate for the old type siege where catapults, trebuchets and mangonels battered the walls, while sappers did their best to undermine them. What was to change the whole balance of power in the fourteenth century was the arrival of gunpowder upon the scene. (A manuscript at Oxford dated 1325 shows an illustration of a gun.) Once the gun was produced in any quantity the old type of fortification had to be completely remodelled. For the moment, however, the Knights were untroubled by that distant thunder on the horizon, and contented themselves with merely improving and strengthening the existing Byzantine fortifications. These were on the old principle of high, fairly thin curtain walls, the gateways guarded by towers, and with sentry-ways running along the tops of the walls between one tower and another. Machicolations, projecting structures through which boiling water, oil, or rocks could be dropped on attackers, completed the pattern of a fortified city in those days when the long bow and the crossbow were the principal hand weapons for besiege
d and besiegers alike.

  Despite the disciplines of their vocation and the duties of their profession the Knights were not entirely engaged with the problems of re-architecting their new city and of preparing their ships for future action against their enemies. They must soon have discovered for themselves the extraordinary beauty of their island home. Not even the most dedicated ascetic could have failed to appreciate that in Rhodes they had acquired a kingdom which was a microcosm of the whole Greek Mediterranean. Behind the city the land rolled away to the south in rich folds of farm lands, sprinkled with white Byzantine chapels and swaying with fruit trees. In the valleys the grape vines rustled. Beyond all this rose up the island’s spine, limestone hills purple when the sun set over the long wind-curled acres of the Aegean. At dawn, when the light began to tremble over the Asia of their enemies, the Carian mountains marched out threateningly as if to remind them of the almost limitless power of the Turk. The air was scented with pines and thyme, arbutus, myrtle, and the innumerable other herbs that covered the hillsides. Valleys like Petaloudes echoed with the chuckle of water—the most wonderful of all sounds in hot lands—while the butterflies rose in confetti-like clouds among the rocks.

  Chapter 10

  DEATH TO DRAGONS

  Two years after the Knights had occupied Rhodes a battle took place which was quite unconnected with the Moslem enemy. It has passed, if not into history, at least into legend. A Provençal knight, Dieudonné de Gozon, slew a dragon…

  In a valley below Mount St Stephen, a little south of the city of Rhodes, a dragon had established its lair and, in the manner of its kind, was given to preying upon the peasantry—particularly country maidens. A number of Knights at one time or another had gone out to give battle to the dragon but all had lost their lives, with the result that orders had been issued by the Grand Master that the beast should be left severely alone. Dieudonné de Gozon, however, was determined to free Rhodes from the menace, and had a model built conforming to the descriptions of the dragon given by those who had seen it. He then trained dogs to attack it, with the intention of killing it himself while it was engaged by the dogs. When he felt that the training period was over, Dieudonné rode out to the valley. He found the dragon in its lair and slew it. For his disobedience he was dismissed from the Order. So great was the public outcry, however, that the Grand Master was forced to reinstate him. Whatever the truth of the story (and it is possible that some large snake or even a Nile crocodile had established itself near a lake in the valley) the existence of Dieudonné de Gozon cannot be doubted. He is ever afterwards referred to in the Order’s archives as ‘The Dragon-Slayer’. He went on, undoubtedly assisted by his popular fame, to become Grand Master in 1346.

  But the dragon which was to engage the attention of the Knights for centuries to come was the rising power of the Turk swirling out of the East—ever the home of dragons. Two years after they had established themselves at Rhodes the Order was faced by the first naval challenge from this great enemy. A Turkish squadron of some twenty ships attacked Amorgos, the outermost island of the Cyclades. Now Amorgos is over a hundred miles to the north-west from Rhodes, so at first sight this might have seemed little challenge to the authority of the Knights over the islands that came within their control. But it was, on the other hand, only fifty miles due west of Cos. A Turkish occupation of Amorgos would threaten not only Cos but Calymnos and Leros, the northernmost bastions of the Order’s small empire. It is probable indeed that the Turks had no intention of establishing themselves in Amorgos—although there was a good harbour at the capital Katapola—but were only bent on plunder and rapine. (The women of Amorgos had been famous for their beauty since classical times.) Fulk de Villaret nevertheless saw this as a first threat to his outer defences and sent the Order’s fleet north immediately. In the subsequent encounter the Turks were defeated and lost nearly all their ships and men. From this moment on the word spread swiftly throughout the Aegean that there was a new power operating in the sea. In many a remote island that had once been protected by the Byzantine fleet, the inhabitants must have felt the first stirrings of hope, that they would not always be subject to piratical raids. The Cross of St John was now being extended over the ‘wine-dark sea’.

  In the same year as their victory at Amorgos the Knights in company with the fleet of the King of Cyprus overwhelmed an Ottoman fleet in the strait between the island of Samos and the famous and ancient city of Ephesus. All this within two years of first establishing themselves in their island home is indicative of the fact that the Order took their duties seriously and that they were remarkably efficient. Yet, perhaps because the scene of their activities was so remote from Europe, there were not a few princes, Popes, and prelates, who complained that the Order was too powerful for the little good it did. Popes cast greedy eyes on its rich revenues and, after the destruction of the Templars, there were always those who had in mind the ultimate ruin of the Order. It was in this political arena, about which we know less than the battles and land campaigns of the Order, that the power and influence of its members in Europe were constantly deployed.

  That the Order of St John did not suffer the same fate as the Templars must be largely attributed to two facts; firstly its affairs were well managed; and secondly its activities were seen by the papacy as the possible herald of further Crusades. What must always be remembered is that Rhodes was only the spearhead of a lance that was supported and directed by the strong shoulder of the Order’s holdings in Europe. Without the activities of the priories, bailywicks, and commanderies in Italy, Spain, France, Germany, and England, Rhodes would have been no more than a distant island in the Aegean Sea which would have been overwhelmed within a matter of years. Money paid for the Order’s galleys, money paid for the defences of the city, and money paid for an elaborate spy network throughout Asia Minor and the Near East which kept the Grand Master and his Council well informed of the movement and intentions of their enemies.

  Other successes marked these early years, among them the defeat of a Turkish fleet off Smyrna, with the Order fighting alongside the ships of France and Venice, The Venetians were always glad of the Order’s assistance in policing the Aegean, for they had large holdings and interests in the islands which formed stepping stones for their trade with the East. In 1345 a major success was achieved with the capture of Smyrna, one of the most important trading posts on the coastline. In little over thirty years the Knights had extended their protecting power and influence over all the southern Aegean, and they were now holding one of the major cities of Asia Minor. It was no small achievement. Smyrna remained an important advance outpost of the Order until 1402, when it fell before the inexorable advance of the Tartars under their ruler Timur the Lame.

  In 1365 that dream of so many Popes once again revived and the crusading spirit flashed once more through Europe. Pope Urban V, moved by Peter I, King of Cyprus, and finding a useful tool in a well-known Carmelite preacher, proclaimed a new Crusade. Although few of the greater nobles came from England—with the exception of the Earl of Hereford—and none from Germany, there was a substantial French contingent. Many lesser knights and their men-at-arms came from all over Europe, even from as far afield as Scotland. In the vanguard of the Crusade were inevitably the Knights of St John. It was they who held the advance-post in the Holy War, and they who were familiar with the whole area and terrain; the nature and dispositions of their enemies.

  In the midsummer of 1365 the watchers on the battlements of Rhodes looked down upon a sight that must have cheered their hearts. Certainly it was a sight that would have seemed almost unbelievable to Grand Master John de Villiers who had led the shattered remnant of the Order out of Acre seventy-four years before. Moored in the commercial harbour lay transport upon transport; others rode at anchor just beyond the encircling sweep of the harbour walls. In the Mandraccio the sharklike hulls of the galleys idled in the still water while their ships’ companies—anything but idle—hoisted aboard stores and weapons, and checke
d over details of masts, sails, rigging, oarports and oars. The armada that was designed to recoup Christian fortunes in the East numbered one hundred and sixty-five vessels in all. The bulk of them were provided by King Peter of Cyprus, the Venetians and the Hospitallers furnishing the spearhead of large fighting galleys. The destination of the armada was kept a secret, for the Moslems too had their spies operating throughout the ports of their enemies. Unlike some previous Crusades there was no division of command, for King Peter by the preponderance of Cypriot ships and men was the unquestioned leader. The Knights for their part were happy to accept this, just so long as they could fulfil their aim of chastising Islam wherever possible; the Venetians were concerned over and above all with the profit motive of the venture. King Peter, in order to fool the enemy into thinking that the attack was coming in Syria, sent word to all Cypriot citizens in Syria to return home at once and to cease all trade with that area.

  The ruse succeeded. The fleet put to sea and not until they were well under way was it announced that the target was Egypt, or, more accurately, Alexandria. Alexandria, the greatest of all Moslem ports, was a sensible objective. If the crusaders could capture it they would have an excellent base for their fleet and army for a further campaign to free the Holy Land.

  The fleet was off the island of Pharos and the great city by the evening of October 9th. The Alexandrians at first seem to have thought that it was no more than a large merchant fleet coming in to trade. (The Venetians conducted a large part of their eastern trade through Alexandria.) In the morning, however, the citizens saw how mistaken they had been. It was now quite clear that many of these ships—in particular the galleys of the Knights of St John and of the Venetians—could in no way be described as merchant ships. What was more, instead of coming to anchor in the eastern harbour (the only one to which Christians were allowed access) the fleet moved into the western harbour, the Harbour of the Happy Return as it had been known in the days of the Ptolemies. The governor of the city was away on a pilgrimage to Mecca; no attack had been anticipated; and the acting-governor failed to get his troops deployed quickly enough to prevent the crusaders from getting ashore.