She smiled. “You are definitely skipping ahead. But that’s okay, because the Knights skipped around a lot, too. Keep in mind, their organization has been around for over nine hundred years, and unlike the Knights Templar, it still exists today.”
CHAPTER THIRTY
Marissa paused for a moment to take a sip of water. It had been a while since she had spoken so much about history. Normally her research was done in private, far from the prying eyes of other academics, who may be tempted to steal her ideas. Although she wasn’t used to violence or bloodshed, she was accustomed to defending her turf in the cutthroat world of academia.
“As I’m sure you’re aware,” she said as she glanced around the table, “the city of Jerusalem was overrun by Saladin and his Muslim forces in 1187 AD, but the Latin Kingdom of Jerusalem held on until 1291 AD, at which time the Order sought refuge in the Kingdom of Cyprus.”
Jones grinned. “I was aware, but I doubt Jon was. He majored in football.”
Payne rolled his eyes. “Just because you can remember stuff from your childhood doesn’t mean you should blurt it out.”
Jones gave him a quick salute with his middle finger.
Marissa laughed. “Unfortunately, the Knights quickly found themselves immersed in the politics of Cyprus and realized that they would be better off somewhere else. They eventually gained control of Rhodes—the largest of the Greek Dodecanese islands—and a number of neighboring islands after a four-year military campaign that ended in 1310 AD.”
Jarkko sighed. “Jarkko has been to Rhodes. Good island. Great women.”
She smiled at him. “When you weren’t cavorting with the locals, do you remember seeing a large medieval castle in the city of Rhodes?”
Jarkko nodded. “Very big. Hard to miss.”
“That Gothic fortress is called the Palace of the Grand Master. It served as the administrative center of the Order during its time on Rhodes—a highly prosperous era when the organization temporarily became known as the Knights of Rhodes.”
“Little-known fact,” Jones said to show off his knowledge. “The state of Rhode Island is actually named after the Greek island of Rhodes.”
“Really?” Marissa said. “I mean, it makes sense given the spelling, but I guess I never really thought about it until now. Good to know.”
Jones tipped an imaginary cap. “You’re welcome, my lady.”
Payne remained focused. “Why was the Order so prosperous in Rhodes?”
“Believe it or not, it was because of their biggest rival: the Knights Templar. By the beginning of the fourteenth century, the Knights Hospitaller and the Knights Templar had grown so powerful that they were hard to control by European nobility, so the newly elected pope sent a letter to the grand masters of the two organizations asking them to merge. Neither leader was amenable to the idea, but the pope persisted and invited the two grand masters to France to discuss the matter. Unfortunately for Templar Grand Master Jacques de Molay, King Philip the Fourth of France owed a tremendous amount of money to the Templars from his war with the English, so he seized the opportunity to free himself from his debt. On Friday the Thirteenth of October in 1307 AD, King Philip ordered the grand master and hundreds of French Templars to be arrested at dawn. The arrest warrant claimed many things, including fraud, financial corruption, worshipping idols, and spitting on the cross.”
“Damn,” Jones said. “That’s a baller move. Have the pope invite your biggest creditor to town for a chitchat, and then arrest his ass before he can leave.”
Marissa smiled. “Since you like trivia, here’s some for you. Many historians believe that Friday the Thirteenth is considered unlucky because the Templars were arrested on that day.”
Jones nodded. “Good to know.”
She tipped her imaginary cap. “You’re welcome, my lord.”
Jones glanced at Payne. “I like her. She’s fun. Can we keep her?”
Payne rolled his eyes. “And how did that help the Knights Hospitaller?”
Marissa explained. “To use DJ’s term, King Philip continued his baller moves by pressuring the pope to take his side. In November of 1307, Pope Clement issued the papal bull Pastoralist praeeminentiae, which instructed all Christian monarchs in Europe to arrest all Templars and seize their assets. The pope called for papal hearings to determine the Templars’ innocence or guilt, but those were the days of the Inquisition, so you know how those trials turned out.”
Jones nodded. “Like a black man with an all-white jury in Mississippi.”
“Exactly,” she said. “And King Philip used that to his advantage. Citing the public scandal that had been generated by the Templars’ forced confessions, the king threatened military action against the Church unless the pope complied with his wishes to disband the Order. It took nearly five years, but Pope Clement eventually agreed. In 1312 AD at the Council of Vienne, Clement issued a series of papal bulls, including Vox in excelso, which officially dissolved the Knights Templar, and Ad providam, which turned over most of the Templar’s assets to the Hospitallers.”
“Hold up,” Payne said in order to clarify things in his mind. “I’ve seen lots of references to the Templars’ massive treasure in pop culture—”
Jones cut him off. “National Treasure, The Da Vinci Code, The Last Templar—”
“And so on,” Payne added to silence Jones. “But you’re telling me the Knights Templar were disbanded seven hundred years ago and all of their holdings were given to their rivals? Which means the Knights Hospitaller—and not the Templars—was the Order with all the loot?”
She nodded. “That’s exactly what I’m saying.”
Jarkko grinned at the news. “Jarkko has boner as big as treasure.”
Jones grimaced in disgust, then slid away from Jarkko on the cushioned bench.
Payne ignored them both. “If that’s the case, why are the Templars so much more famous than the Knights Hospitallers? As I mentioned, I wasn’t aware of them before today.”
Marissa replied. “Truth be told, I think the aura around the Templars first started when they were unfairly persecuted by King Philip and Pope Clement. When you combine the sudden arrests of the Templar, the conflicting stories about their forced confessions, and the fact that many of the Templars’ leaders—including Grand Master de Molay—were burned at the stake in very dramatic proceedings, you can understand why legends were born about the group. In many ways, their abrupt downfall was very Shakespearean. Which, in this case, is actually an anachronism since it preceded Shakespeare by over two-hundred and fifty years.”
Payne pressed forward. “So what happened to the money? Did the surviving Templars actually give it the Hospitallers, or did they hide it away for Nick Cage to find?”
Jones grinned at the movie reference. “Nice!”
Marissa smiled. “I’m sure the Templars hid some of their wealth, but the majority of their assets were given to the Hospitallers. By this time, the Order was so wealthy that it took on the features of a state—minting their own money and maintaining diplomatic relations with other nations. New knights came to Rhodes from all over Europe, and it was natural for them to associate with those who spoke their language and shared their traditions. So the Order decided to group the Hospitallers according to eight ethno-linguistic divisions known as langues or tongues. It’s been a while since I learned these, but let me see if I can remember them all.”
She counted on her fingers to try to keep track. “There was Crown of Aragon, Auvergne, Crown of Castile, the Kingdom of England, France, the Holy Roman Empire, Italy, and…shit! I can’t remember the last one. Not that it matters. I mean, seven out of eight isn’t—Provence! The last one was Provence! Sorry. I always forget that one because it eventually became a part of France. That was eight, right?”
Jones nodded. “Oui.”
She laughed before she took another sip of water. “Anyway, each of these langues was led by an administrator known as a pilier, and each langue had an auberge as its headquarte
rs. That’s also where the knights were housed by region.”
Jarkko frowned. “Jarkko no speak French. What is this auberge?”
She answered. “It’s the French word for ‘inn’, but in this case, it isn’t a completely accurate translation because some of the buildings were quite massive. For instance, the Auberge de Castille in Valletta was completed in 1574 AD, but it currently serves as the Office of the Prime Minister of Malta. It’s the Maltese equivalent of the White House.”
“Speaking of Malta,” Payne said, “I’m still trying to figure out how it fits into things. Right now the Hospitallers are living in Rhodes, and my energy level is starting to drain. Perhaps you can fast-forward a bit to Valletta.”
“Sure thing,” she said with a smile. “While on Rhodes, the Knights were forced to become a more militarized organization in order to defend themselves against invading forces, including hordes of Barbary pirates. Then in 1522, an entirely new challenge arrived. Sultan Suleiman the Magnificent of the Ottoman Empire sent more than four hundred ships and over a hundred thousand men to the island to force them out once and for all. Under the leadership of Grand Master Philippe Villiers de L’Isle-Adam, the Order had roughly seven thousand men yet were able to last for nearly six months before the defeated Hospitallers were allowed to withdraw to Sicily. For roughly eight years, the Hospitallers sought a new place to call home until Charles the First of Aragon—as King of Sicily—gave them Malta, Gozo, and the North African port of Tripoli in perpetual fiefdom in exchange for an annual fee. Any idea what that fee was?”
Jarkko grinned. “Jarkko know this one. Answer is F-word.”
Marissa laughed. “Not the F-word, but Jarkko is actually correct. The annual fee was a single Maltese falcon, which was to be sent to the King’s representative, the Viceroy of Sicily, on All Saints’ Day. This was known as the Tribute of the Maltese Falcon, and it was honored by the Knights until they were expelled from Malta in 1798.”
“Obviously I’m familiar with the film,” Payne said. “I remember watching The Maltese Falcon with my grandfather when I was just a kid, but I didn’t know about the history behind the tribute.”
Marissa explained further. “In the novel by Dashiell Hammett and the movie with Humphrey Bogart, the Maltese Falcon was actually a statue of gold and jewels made by the Knights of Malta as a gift for Charles the First, but it was captured by pirates and passed from owner to owner around Europe for centuries. So even though many people don’t recognize the name of the Hospitallers, they’re still vaguely familiar with their organization.”
Payne nodded. “As I mentioned, I didn’t recognize the Order by their original name, but as soon as Petr said the Knights of Malta, I immediately knew who he was talking about.”
“And for good reason,” she said, “because they truly made their reputation while they were here. And as I’m sure DJ will attest, the Knights of Malta is a much cooler name.”
Jones agreed. “You’re right. It’s pretty badass. Not as cool as the MANIACs, but definitely better than the Order of Knights of the Hospital of Saint John of Jerusalem.”
She looked at Jones. “Who are the MANIACs?”
Payne shook his head. “That’s a story for another day. Right now let’s focus on the Knights. How did they make their reputation in Malta?”
She smiled. “By accomplishing the impossible.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
Marissa glanced around the table to make sure she had everyone’s attention before she continued her lecture about the Order of Saint John.
“When the Knights first arrived in Malta in 1530 AD, they continued their actions against the Barbary pirates, who were Ottoman corsairs operating off the Barbary Coast in Northwest Africa. Since Tripoli was part of the Knights’ fiefdom, the Order did whatever they could to protect their assets and control the sea. Unfortunately, this drew the ire of Sultan Suleiman the Magnificent, who had allowed the Knights safe passage to Sicily upon their defeat in Rhodes. Wanting to wipe out the Order once and for all, the sultan sent an invasion force of over forty thousand men to besiege the five hundred knights that were stationed in Birgu in 1565 AD. The ensuing battle was known as the Great Siege of Malta.”
Jones smiled. “Our driver was telling us about the siege earlier today. He insinuated that it was one of the biggest military upsets of all time.”
She nodded in agreement. “At the time of the siege, the Ottomans were considered an unstoppable force that would slowly but surely seize control of the Mediterranean before taking over Europe. In order to conquer Malta, the Ottomans assembled one of the largest armadas since antiquity. The fleet consisted of nearly two hundred vessels, most of which were galleys filled with weapons and professional soldiers. Meanwhile, the home team had approximately six thousand men, more than half of which were slaves, servants, and Maltese citizens. So yeah, I’d say it was a remarkable upset—one that got pretty nasty at times.”
“In what way?” Payne wondered.
“After capturing Fort Saint Elmo at the entrance of the harbor and positioning cannons on Mount Sciberras—which is the modern-day location of Valletta—the Turks decided to taunt the Order by nailing the bodies of the fallen knights on mock crucifixes and floating them across the bay. In response, Grand Master Jean Parisot de Valette beheaded all of his Turkish prisoners, loaded their heads into his cannons, and fired them back at the Turks.”
Jarkko grinned. “First time in history when getting head is bad thing.”
The group laughed at the absurdity—and accuracy—of the comment.
“Anyway,” Marissa said with a grin, “once the Ottomans established the higher ground on Mount Sciberras, they started their bombardment of Birgu across the harbor.”
“We were up there,” Payne said. “Before we visited the library, we stopped by to see the saluting battery in the Upper Barrakka Gardens.”
She smiled, glad that they had witnessed a Maltese tradition prior to the chaos at the library. “Then you know it’s a direct shot to Fort Saint Angelo, which is where the seventy-year-old de Valette and his forces were headquartered. Despite facing far superior numbers, the Knights held on for another three months in the hot Maltese summer until a relief force led by the Viceroy of Sicily finally arrived. All told, the Ottomans had fired an estimated one hundred and thirty thousand cannonballs at the Order, and yet the Knights of Malta still managed to win the war.”
Payne whistled. “I don’t know what’s more impressive: the one hundred and thirty thousand cannonballs or the fact that the Knights were led by a seventy-year-old man during the sixteenth century. Based on life expectancy, that has to be the equivalent of a ninety-year-old man today.”
“You’re probably right,” she said. “And he didn’t just rule from a throne at Fort Saint Angelo. He actually led the charge into battle on multiple occasions, even fighting against the Turks in hand-to-hand combat. For his remarkable valor, the Church offered him a position as a cardinal, but he declined in order to maintain his independence from the papacy and to start the rebuilding process on Malta. That included the commissioning of a fortified city on Mount Sciberras that would eventually take his name.”
“Valletta,” Payne said to the group.
“Duh,” cracked Jones from across the table. “The dude’s name was Valette.”
Payne started to defend himself but thought better of it. “Go on.”
She smiled and nodded. “Thanks to the Order’s miraculous victory, money flowed in from royal families across Europe, all of them looking to win the Knights’ favor. Even the Vatican contributed to their cause. Pope Pius the Fifth sent his military architect—an assistant of Michelangelo’s named Francesco Laparelli—to design the city. It officially became the capital of Malta in 1571 AD when the leader of the Order moved his seat at Fort St. Angelo to the Grandmaster’s Palace in Valletta. Sadly, the grand master who made the move was Pierre de Monte, and not Jean Parisot de Valette, who had passed away before his city was complete. In the yea
rs that followed, seven auberges were built for the Order’s seven langues, and the Knights settled in for the long haul until Napoleon came knocking in 1798 AD.”
Jones groaned. “As a student of history, I know that was rarely a good thing.”
“And it certainly wasn’t for the Knights of Malta. Napoleon was leading a force of thirty thousand men on his way to Egypt, and the Order was a shell of its former self, filled with undisciplined knights with split loyalties. On top of that, many of the local citizens were tired of the Order’s presence in Malta, so their support couldn’t be counted on in a time of crisis.”
“That’s a bad combination,” Payne said.
“But it gets worse,” she assured them. “Although Grand Master Ferdinand von Hompesch was warned of the approaching armada, he did nothing to fortify the island’s defenses. Then when the French fleet arrived, Hompesch openly provoked Napoleon by denying his request to get water provisions for his men, allowing only two French ships in the harbor at one time. Until that moment, Napoleon hadn’t declared war on the Maltese islands, but he viewed Hompesch’s denial as a provocation and ordered the invasion.”
“How long did it last?” Payne wondered.
She held up her index finger. “One day.”
“Damn!” Jones said. “Napoleon didn’t mess around.”
“He certainly didn’t,” she said with a shake of her head. “And yet, Maltese scholars still wonder why Hompesch didn’t take the French threat more seriously. I mean, when Grand Master de Valette learned about the approaching Turks, he took a number of steps to prepare for the upcoming siege. He poisoned wells with bitter herbs and dead animals to ruin the enemy’s water supply. He also harvested all crops, including unripened grain, to deprive the enemy of local food supplies. But Hompesch did no such things. Instead, he sat on his ass in Valletta and did nothing until it was time to negotiate the Order’s surrender, which handed over sovereignty of the islands of Malta to the government of France.”
The Malta Escape Page 17