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Title: A Knight of the White Cross

Author: G.A. Henty

Release Date: January, 2004  [EBook #4932]
[Yes, we are more than one year ahead of schedule]
[This file was first posted on March 31, 2002]

Edition: 10

Language: English

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*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK, A KNIGHT OF THE WHITE CROSS ***




This etext was produced by Martin Robb (MartinRobb@ieee.org)

PREFACE.


MY DEAR LADS,

The order of the Knights of St. John, which for some centuries played
a very important part in the great  struggle between Christianity
and Mahomedanism, was, at its origin, a semi-religious body,
its members  being, like other monks, bound by vows of obedience,
chastity, and poverty, and pledged to minister to the  wants of the
pilgrims who flocked to the Holy Places, to receive them at their
great Hospital -- or guest  house -- at Jerusalem, dedicated to St.
John the Baptist, and to defend them on their passage to and from
the  sea, against attack by Moslems. In a comparatively short
time the constitution of the order was changed,  and the Knights
Hospitallers became, like the Templars, a great military Order
pledged to defend the Holy  Sepulchre, and to war everywhere against
the Moslems. The Hospitallers bore a leading share in the  struggle
which terminated in the triumph of the Moslems, and the capture
by them of Jerusalem. The  Knights of St. John then established
themselves at Acre, but after a valiant defence of that fortress,
removed to Crete, and shortly afterwards to Rhodes. There they
fortified the town, and withstood two  terrible sieges by the Turks.
At the end of the second they obtained honourable terms from Sultan
Solyman,  and retiring to Malta established themselves there in an
even stronger fortress than that of Rhodes, and  repulsed all the
efforts of the Turks to dispossess them. The Order was the great
bulwark of Christendom  against the invasion of the Turks, and
the tale of their long struggle is one of absorbing interest, and
of the  many eventful episodes none is more full of incident and
excitement than the first siege of Rhodes, which I  have chosen
for the subject of my story.

Yours truly,  G. A. Henty



CHAPTER I The King Maker


A stately lady was looking out of the window of an apartment
in the Royal Chateau of Amboise, in the  month of June, 1470. She
was still handsome, though many years of anxiety, misfortune, and
trouble, had  left their traces on her face. In the room behind
her, a knight was talking to a lady sitting at a tambour  frame;
a lad of seventeen was standing at another window stroking a hawk
that sat on his wrist, while a boy  of nine was seated at a table
examining the pages of an illuminated missal.

"What will come of it, Eleanor?" the lady at the window said,
turning suddenly and impatiently from it. "It  seems past belief
that I am to meet as a friend this haughty earl, who has for fifteen
years been the bitterest  enemy of my House. It appears almost
impossible."

"'Tis strange indeed, my Queen; but so many strange things have
befallen your Majesty that you should be  the last to wonder at
this. At any rate, as you said but yesterday, naught but good can
come of it. He has  done his worst against you, and one can scarce
doubt that if he chooses he has power to do as much good  for you,
as in past times he has done you evil. 'Tis certain that his coming
here shows he is in earnest, for  his presence, -- which is sure
sooner or later to come to the ears of the Usurper, -- will cause
him to fall into  the deepest disgrace."

"And yet it seemed," the queen said, "that by marrying his daughter
to Clarence he had bound himself more  firmly than ever to the side
of York."

"Ay, madam," the knight said. "But Clarence himself is said to be
alike unprincipled and ambitious, and it  may well be that Warwick
intended to set him up against Edward; had he not done so, such an
alliance  would not necessarily strengthen his position at Court."

"Methinks your supposition is the true one, Sir Thomas," the queen
said. "Edward cares not sufficiently for  his brother to bestow
much favour upon the father of the prince's wife. Thus, he would
gain but little by the  marriage unless he were to place Clarence
on the throne.  Then he would again become the real ruler of  England,
as he was until Edward married Elizabeth Woodville, and the House
of Rivers rose to the first  place in the royal favour, and eclipsed
the Star of Warwick. It is no wonder the proud Earl chafes under
the  ingratitude of the man who owes his throne to him, and that he
is ready to dare everything so that he can  but prove to him that
he is not to be slighted with impunity. But why come to me, when
he has Clarence as  his puppet?"

"He may have convinced himself, madam, that Clarence is even less
to be trusted than Edward, or he may  perceive that but few of the
Yorkists would follow him were he to declare against the Usurper,
while  assuredly your adherents would stand aloof altogether
from such a struggle.  Powerful as he is, Warwick  could not alone
withstand the united forces of all the nobles pledged to the support
of the House of York.  Thence, as I take it, does it happen that
he has resolved to throw in his lot with Lancaster, if your Majesty
will but forgive the evil he has done your House and accept him as
your ally. No doubt he will have terms  to make and conditions to
lay down."

"He may make what conditions he chooses," Queen Margaret said
passionately, "so that he does but aid me  to take vengeance on
that false traitor; to place my husband again on the throne; and
to obtain for my son  his rightful heritage."

As she spoke a trumpet sounded in the courtyard below.

"He has come," she exclaimed. "Once again, after years of misery
and humiliation, I can hope."

"We had best retire, madam," Sir Thomas Tresham said.  "He will
speak more freely to your Majesty if  there are no witnesses. Come,
Gervaise, it is time that you practised your exercises." And Sir
Thomas, with  his wife and child, quitted the room, leaving Queen
Margaret with her son to meet the man who had been  the bitterest
foe of her House, the author of her direst misfortunes.

For two hours the Earl of Warwick was closeted with the queen;
then he took horse and rode away. As soon  as he did so, a servant
informed Sir Thomas and his wife that the queen desired their
presence. Margaret  was standing radiant when they entered.

"Congratulate me, my friends," she said. "The Star of Lancaster
has risen again. Warwick has placed all his  power and influence at
our disposal. We have both forgiven all the past: I the countless
injuries he has  inflicted on my House, he the execution of his
father and so many of his friends. We have both laid aside  all
our grievances, and we stand united by our hate for Edward. There
is but one condition, and this I  accepted gladly -- namely, that
my son should marry his daughter Anne. This will be another bond
between  us; and by all reports Anne is a charming young lady.
Edward has gladly agreed to the match; he could  make no alliance,
even with the proudest princess in Europe, which would so aid him,
and so strengthen his  throne."

"God grant that your hopes may be fulfilled, madam," the knight
said earnestly, "and that peace may be  given to our distracted
country! The Usurper has rendered himself unpopular by his extravagance
and by  the exactions of his tax collectors, and I believe that
England will gladly welcome the return of its lawful  king to power.
When does Warwick propose to begin?"

"He will at once get a fleet together. Louis, who has privately
brought about this meeting, will of course  throw no impediment in
his way; but, on the other hand, the Duke of Burgundy will do all
in his power to  thwart the enterprise, and will, as soon as he
learns of it, warn Edward. I feel new life in me, Eleanor. After
fretting powerless for years, I seem to be a different woman now
that there is a prospect of action. I am  rejoiced at the thought
that at last I shall be able to reward those who have ventured and
suffered so much  in the cause of Lancaster."

"My hope is, madam, that this enterprise will be the final one,
-- that, once successful, our dear land will be  no longer deluged
with blood, and that never again shall I be forced to draw my sword
against my  countrymen."

"'Tis a good and pious wish, Sir Thomas, and heartily do I join in
it. My married life has been one long  round of trouble, and none
more than I have cause to wish for peace."

"There is the more hope for it, madam, that these wars have
greatly diminished the number of powerful  barons. It is they who
are the authors of this struggle; their rivalries and their ambitions
are the ruin of  England. Save for their retainers there would be
no armies to place in the field; the mass of people stand  aloof
altogether, desiring only to live in peace and quiet. 'Tis the
same here in France; 'tis the powerful  vassals of the king that
are ever causing trouble."

"'Tis so indeed, Sir Thomas. But without his feudal lords how
could a king place an army in the field, when  his dominions were
threatened by a powerful neighbour?"

"Then it would be the people's business to fight, madam, and I doubt
not that they would do so in defence  of their hearths and homes.
Besides, the neighbour would no longer have the power of invasion
were he  also without great vassals. These great barons stand
between the king and his subjects; and a monarch  would be a king
indeed were he able to rule without their constant dictation, and
undisturbed by their  rivalry and ambitions."

"That would be a good time indeed, Sir Thomas," the queen said, with
a smile; "but methinks there is but  little chance of its coming
about, for at present it seems to me that the vassals are better
able to make or  unmake kings, than kings are able to deprive the
great vassals of power; and never since Norman William  set foot
in England were they more powerful than they are at present. What
does my chance of recovering  our throne rest upon? Not upon our
right, but on the quarrel between Warwick and the House of Rivers.
We  are but puppets that the great lords play against each other.
Did it depend upon my will, it should be as you  say; I would
crush them all at a blow. Then only should I feel really a queen.
But that is but a dream that  can never be carried out."

"Not in our time, madam. But perhaps it may come sooner than we
expect; and this long war, which has  destroyed many great families
and weakened others, may greatly hasten its arrival. I presume
until  Warwick is ready to move naught will be done, your Majesty?"

"That is not settled yet. Warwick spoke somewhat of causing a rising
in the north before he set sail, so that  a portion at least of
Edward's power may be up there when we make our landing."

"It would be a prudent step, madam. If we can but gain possession
of London, the matter would be half  finished. The citizens are
ever ready to take sides with those whom they regard as likely to
win, and just as  they shout at present 'Long live King Edward!' so
would they shout 'Long live King Henry!' did you enter  the town."

"This may perhaps change the thought that you have entertained,
Sir Thomas, of making your son a Knight  of St. John."

"I have not thought the matter over, madam. If there were quiet in
the land I should, were it not for my  vow, be well content that
he should settle down in peace at my old hall; but if I see that
there is still trouble  and bloodshed ahead, I would in any case
far rather that he should enter the Order, and spend his life in
fighting the infidel than in strife with Englishmen. My good friend,
the Grand Prior of the Order in  England, has promised that he will
take him as his page, and at any rate in the House of St. John's
he will  pass his youth in security whatsoever fate may befall me.
The child himself already bids fair to do honour  to our name, and
to become a worthy member of the Order.  He is fond of study, and
under my daily tuition  is making good progress in the use of his
weapons."

"That is he," the prince said, speaking for the first time, "It
was but yesterday in the great hall downstairs he  stood up with
blunted swords against young Victor de Paulliac, who is nigh three
years his senior. It was  amusing to see how the little knaves
fought against each other; and by my faith Gervaise held his own
staunchly, in spite of Victor's superior height and weight. If he
join the Order, Sir Thomas, I warrant me he  will cleave many an
infidel's skull, and will do honour to the langue of England."

"I hope so, prince," the knight said gravely. "The Moslems ever
gain in power, and it may well be that the  Knights of St. John
will be hardly pressed to hold their own.  If the boy joins them
it will be my wish that  he shall as early as possible repair to
Rhodes. I do not wish him to become one of the drones who live in
sloth at their commanderies in England, and take no part in the
noble struggle of the Order with the  Moslem host, who have captured
Constantinople and now threaten all Europe. We were childless some
years after our marriage, and Eleanor and I vowed that were a son
born to us he should join the Order of the  White Cross, and dedicate
his life to the defence of Christian Europe against the infidel.
Our prayers for a  son were granted, and Gervaise will enter the
Order as soon as his age will permit him. That is why I  rejoice
at the grand prior's offer to take him as his page, for he will
dwell in the hospital safely until old  enough to take the first
steps towards becoming a knight of the Order."

"I would that I had been born the son of a baron like yourself,"
the prince said earnestly, "and that I were  free to choose my own
career. Assuredly in that case I too would have joined the noble
Order and have  spent my life in fighting in so grand a cause, free
from all the quarrels and disputes and enmities that rend  England.
Even should I some day gain a throne, surely my lot is not to be
envied.  Yet, as I have been born  to the rank, I must try for it,
and I trust to do so worthily and bravely. But who can say what the
end will  be? Warwick has ever been our foe, and though my royal
mother may use him in order to free my father,  and place him on
the throne, she must know well enough that he but uses us for his
own ends alone, and  that he will ever stand beside the throne and
be the real ruler of England."

"For a time, Edward," the queen broke in. "We have shown that
we can wait, and now it seems that our  great hope is likely to
be fulfilled. After that, the rest will be easy.  There are other
nobles, well nigh as  powerful as he, who look with jealousy upon
the way in which he lords it, and be assured that they will  look
with a still less friendly eye upon him when he stands, as you say,
beside the throne, once your father  is again seated there. We can
afford to bide our time, and assuredly it will not be long before
a party is  formed against Warwick. Until then we must bear everything.
Our interests are the same. If he is content to  remain a prop to
the throne, and not to eclipse it, the memory of the past will not
stand between us, and I  shall regard him as the weapon that has
beaten down the House of York and restored us to our own, and  shall
give him my confidence and friendship. If, on the other hand, he
assumes too much, and tries to lord it  over us, I shall seek other
support and gather a party which even he will be unable successfully
to  withstand. I should have thought, Edward, that you would be even
more glad than I that this long time of  weary waiting for action
is over, and that once again the banner of Lancaster will be spread
to the winds."

"I shall be that, mother. Rather would I meet death in the field
than live cooped up here, a pensioner of  France.  But I own that
I should feel more joy at the prospect if the people of England
had declared in our  favour, instead of its being Warwick -- whom
you have always taught me to fear and hate -- who thus  comes to
offer to place my father again on the throne, and whose goodwill
towards us is simply the result  of pique and displeasure because
he is no longer first in the favour of Edward. It does not seem to
me that a  throne won by the aid of a traitor can be a stable one."

"You are a foolish boy," the queen said angrily. "Do you not see
that by marrying Warwick's daughter you  will attach him firmly to
us?"

"Marriages do not count for much, mother. Another of Warwick's
daughters married Clarence, Edward's  brother, and yet he purposes
to dethrone Edward."

The queen gave an angry gesture and said, "You have my permission
to retire, Edward. I am in no mood to  listen to auguries of evil
at the present moment."

The prince hesitated for a moment as if about to speak, but with an
effort controlled himself, and bowing  deeply to his mother, left
the room.

"Edward is in a perverse humour," the queen said in a tone of much
vexation to Sir Thomas Tresham, when  Gervaise had left the room.
"However, I know he will bear himself well when the hour of trial
comes."

"That I can warrant he will, madam; he has a noble character, frank
and fearless, and yet thoughtful beyond  his years. He will make,
I believe, a noble king, and may well gather round him all parties
in the state. But  your Majesty must make excuses for his humour.
Young people are strong in their likes and dislikes. He  has never
heard you speak aught but ill of Warwick, and he knows how much
harm the Earl has done to  your House. The question of expediency
does not weigh with the young as with their elders. While you see
how great are the benefits that will accrue from an alliance with
Warwick, and are ready to lay aside the  hatred of years and to
forget the wrongs you have suffered, the young prince is unable so
quickly to forget  that enmity against the Earl that he has learnt
from you."

"You are right, Sir Thomas, and I cannot blame Edward that he is
unable, as I am, to forget the past. What  steps would you advise
that I myself should take? Shall I remain passive here, or shall
I do what I can to  rouse our partisans in England?"

"I should say the latter, madam. Of course it will not do to trust
to letters, for were one of these to fall into  the wrong hands
it might cause the ruin of Warwick's expedition; but I should say
that a cautious message  sent by word of mouth to some of our old
adherents would be of great use. I myself will, if your Majesty
chooses to entrust me with the mission, undertake to carry it out.
I should take ship and land in the west,  and would travel in the
guise of a simple country gentleman, and call upon your adherents
in all the western  counties. It would be needful first to make
out a list of the nobles who have shown themselves devoted to  your
cause, and I should bid these hold themselves and their retainers
in readiness to take the field  suddenly. I should say no word of
Warwick, but merely hint that you will not land alone, but with a
powerful array, and that all the chances are in your favour."

"But it would be a dangerous mission, Sir Thomas."

"Not greatly so, madam. My own estates lie in Sussex, and there
would be but little chance of my  recognition, save by your own
adherents, who may have seen me among the leaders of your troops
in  battle; and even that is improbable. At present Edward deems
himself so securely seated on the throne that  men can travel
hither and thither through the country without being questioned,
and the Lancastrians live  quietly with the Yorkists. Unless I were
so unfortunate as to meet a Yorkist noble who knew that I was a
banished man and one who had the honour of being in your Majesty's
confidence, I do not think that any  danger could possibly arise.
What say you, wife?"

"I cannot think that there is no danger," Lady Tresham said; "but
even so I would not say a word to hinder  you from doing service
to the cause. I know of no one else who could perform the mission.
You have left  my side to go into battle before now, and I cannot
think that the danger of such an expedition can be as  great as
that which you would undergo in the field. Therefore, my dear lord,
I would say no word now to  stay you."

She spoke bravely and unfalteringly, but her face had paled when
Sir Thomas first made the proposal, and  the colour had not yet
come back to her cheeks.

"Bravely spoken, dame," the queen said warmly. "Well, Sir Thomas,
I accept your offer, and trust that you  will not be long separated
from your wife and son, who will of course journey with me when
I go to  England, where doubtless you will be able to rejoin us
a few days after we land. Now let us talk over the  noblemen and
gentlemen in the west, upon whom we can rely, if not to join our
banner as soon as it is  spread, at least to say no word that will
betray you."

Two days later Sir Thomas Tresham started on his journey, while the
queen remained at Amboise eagerly  awaiting the news that Warwick
had collected a fleet, and was ready to set sail. Up to this point
the Duke of  Clarence had sided with Warwick against his brother,
and had passed over with him to France, believing,  no doubt, that
if the Earl should succeed in dethroning Edward, he intended to
place him, his son-in-law,  upon the throne. He was rudely awakened
from this delusion by Charles of Burgundy, who, being in all but
open rebellion against his suzerain, the King of France, kept himself
intimately acquainted with all that was  going on. He despatched a
female emissary to Clarence to inform him of the league Warwick had
made  with the Lancastrians, and the intended marriage between his
daughter Anne and the young prince;  imploring him to be reconciled
with his brother and to break off his alliance with the Earl, who
was on the  point of waging war against the House of York.

Clarence took the advice, and went over to England, where he made
his peace with Edward, the more easily  because the king, who was
entirely given up to pleasure, treated with contempt the warnings
the Duke of  Burgundy sent him of the intended invasion by Warwick. And
yet a moment's serious reflection should  have shown him that his
position was precarious. The crushing exactions of the tax gatherers,
in order to  provide the means for Edward's lavish expenditure,
had already caused very serious insurrections in various  parts of
the country, and his unpopularity was deep and general. In one of
these risings the royal troops had  suffered a crushing defeat.
The Earl Rivers, the father, and Sir John Woodville, one of the
brothers, of the  queen had, with the Earl of Devon, been captured
by the rebels, and the three had been beheaded, and the  throne
had only been saved by the intervention of Warwick.

Thus, then, Edward had every reason for fearing the result should
the Earl appear in arms against him. He  took, however, no measures
whatever to prepare for the coming storm, and although the Duke of
Burgundy  despatched a fleet to blockade Harfleur, where Warwick
was fitting out his expedition, and actually sent the  name of the
port at which the Earl intended to land if his fleet managed to
escape from Harfleur, Edward  continued carelessly to spend his
time in pleasure and dissipation, bestowing his full confidence upon
the  Archbishop of York and the Marquis of Montague, both brothers
of the Earl of Warwick.

The elements favoured his enemies, for early in September the Duke
of Burgundy's Fleet, off Harfleur, was  dispersed by a storm, and
Warwick, as soon as the gale abated, set sail, and on the 13th
landed on the  Devonshire coast. His force was a considerable one,
for the French king had furnished him both with  money and men; on
effecting his landing he found no army assembled to oppose him. A
few hours after his  disembarkation, he was joined by Sir Thomas
Tresham, who gave him the good news that the whole of the  west
was ready to rise, and that in a few days all the great landowners
would join him with their retainers.  This turned out to be
the case, and Warwick, with a great array, marched eastward. Kent
had already risen,  and London declared for King Henry. Warwick,
therefore, instead of marching thither, moved towards  Lincolnshire,
where Edward was with his army, having gone north to repress
an insurrection that had  broken out there at the instigation of
Warwick.

Lord Montague now threw off the mask, and declared for King Henry.
Most of the soldiers followed him,  and Edward, finding it hopeless
to oppose Warwick's force, which was now within a short march of
him,  took ship with a few friends who remained faithful, and sailed
for Holland.  Warwick returned to London,  where he took King Henry
from the dungeon in the Tower, into which he himself had, five
years before,  thrown him, and proclaimed him king.

On the day that this took place Dame Tresham arrived in London with
her son. The queen had found that  she could not for the present
cross, as she was waiting for a large French force which was to
accompany  her. As it was uncertain how long the delay might last,
she counselled her friend to join her husband. The  revolution
had been accomplished without the loss of a single life, with the
exception of that of the Earl of  Worcester, who was hated for his
cruelty by the people. Edward's principal friends took refuge in
various  religious houses. The queen, her three daughters, and her
mother, fled to the sanctuary at Westminster. All  these were left
unmolested, nor was any step taken against the other adherents of
the House of York.   Warwick was now virtually King of England.
The king, whose intellect had always been weak, was now  almost an
imbecile, and Margaret of Anjou was still detained in France.  Sir
Thomas Tresham went down  to his estates in Kent, and there lived
quietly for some months. The Duke of Clarence had joined Warwick
as soon as he saw that his brother's cause was lost; and as the
Duke had no knowledge of his changed  feelings towards him, he was
heartily welcomed.  An act of settlement was passed by Parliament
entailing  the Crown on Henry's son Edward, Prince of Wales,
and in case of that prince's death without issue, on the  Duke of
Clarence. On the 12th of March following (1471) Edward suddenly
appeared with a fleet with  which he had been secretly supplied
by the Duke of Burgundy, and, sailing north, landed in the Humber.
He found the northern population by no means disposed to aid him,
but upon his taking a solemn oath that  he had no designs whatever
upon the throne, but simply claimed to be restored to his rights
and dignities as  Duke of York, he was joined by a sufficient force
to enable him to cross the Trent. As he marched south his  army
speedily swelled, and he was joined by many great lords.

Warwick had summoned Henry's adherents to the field, and marched
north to meet him. When the armies  approached each other, the Duke
of Clarence, who commanded a portion of Henry's army, went over
with  his whole force to Edward, and Warwick, being no longer in a
position to give battle, was obliged to draw  off and allow Edward
to march unopposed towards London. The citizens, with their usual
fickleness,  received him with the same outburst of enthusiasm with
which, five months before, they had greeted the  entry of Warwick.
The unfortunate King Henry was again thrown into his dungeon in
the Tower, and  Edward found himself once more King of England.

Sir Thomas Tresham, as soon as he heard of the landing of Edward,
had hastened up to London. In his  uncertainty how matters would go,
he brought his wife and son up with him, and left them in lodgings,
while he marched north with Warwick. As soon as the defection of
Clarence opened the road to London, he  left the Earl, promising
to return in a few days, and rode to town, arriving there two days
before Edward's  entry, and, purchasing another horse, took his
wife and son down to St. Albans, where leaving them, he  rejoined
Warwick. In a few days the latter had gathered sufficient forces to
enable him to risk the fortunes  of a battle, and, marching south,
he encamped with his army on the common north of Barnet. Edward
had  come out to meet him, and the two armies slept on Easter Eve
within two miles of each other.

Late in the evening Clarence sent a messenger to the Earl, offering
to mediate, but the offer was indignantly  refused by Warwick.

In the darkness, neither party was aware of the other's precise
position. Warwick was much stronger than  the king in artillery,
and had placed it on his right wing. The king, in his ignorance of
the enemy's position,  had placed his troops considerably more to
the right than those of Warwick's army. The latter, believing  that
Edward's line was facing his, kept up a heavy cannonade all night
upon where he supposed Edward's  left to be -- a cannonade which
was thus entirely futile.

In the morning (April 14th) a heavy mist covered the country
and prevented either force from seeing the  other's dispositions.
Warwick took the command of his left wing, having with him the Duke
of Exeter.  Somerset was in command of his centre, and Montague
and Oxford of his right.

Edward placed himself in the centre of his array, the Duke of
Gloucester commanded on his right, and Lord  Hastings on his left.

Desirous, from his inferiority in artillery, to fight out the battle
hand to hand, Edward, at six o'clock in the  morning, ordered his
trumpets to blow, and, after firing a few shots, advanced through
the mist to attack the  enemy.  His misconception as to Warwick's
position, which had saved his troops from the effects of the
cannonade during the night, was now disadvantageous to him, for the
Earl's right so greatly outflanked his  left that when they came
into contact Hastings found himself nearly surrounded by a vastly
superior force.  His wing fought valiantly, but was at length
broken by Oxford's superior numbers, and driven out of the  field.
The mist prevented the rest of the armies from knowing what had
happened on the king's left.   Edward himself led the charge on
Warwick's centre, and having his best troops under his command,
pressed forward with such force and vehemence that he pierced
Somerset's lines and threw them into  confusion.

Just as Warwick's right had outflanked the king's left, so his own
left was outflanked by Gloucester.  Warwick's troops fought with
great bravery, and, in spite of the disaster to his centre, were
holding their  ground until Oxford, returning from his pursuit of
the king's left, came back through the mist. The king's  emblem
was a sun, that of Oxford a star with streaming rays. In the dim
light this was mistaken by  Warwick's men for the king's device,
and believing that Oxford was far away on the right, they received
him with a discharge of arrows. This was at once returned, and a
conflict took place. At last the mistake  was discovered, but the
confusion caused was irreparable. Warwick and Oxford each suspected
the other of  treachery, and the king's right still pressing on,
the confusion increased, and the battle, which had been so  nearly
won by the Earl, soon became a complete defeat, and by ten in the
morning Warwick's army was in  full flight.

Accounts differ as to the strength of the forces engaged, but it is
probable that there was no great inequality,  and that each party
brought some fifteen thousand men into the field. The number of
slain is also very  uncertain, some historians placing the total at
ten thousand, others as low as one thousand; but from the  number
of nobles who fell, the former computation is probably nearest to
the truth.  Warwick, his brother  Montague, and many other nobles
and gentlemen, were killed, the only great nobles on his side who
escaped being the Earls of Somerset and Oxford; many were also killed
on Edward's side, and the slaughter  among the ordinary fighting
men was greater than usual.

Hitherto in the battles that had been fought during the civil war;
while the leaders taken on the field were  frequently executed, the
common soldiers were permitted to return to their homes, as they
had only been  acting under the orders of their feudal superiors,
and were not considered responsible for their acts. At  Barnet,
however, Edward, smarting from the humiliation he had suffered
by his enforced flight from  England, owing to the whole country
declaring for his rival, gave orders that no quarter was to be
granted.  It was an anxious day at St. Albans, where many ladies
whose husbands were with Warwick's army had,  like Dame Tresham,
taken up their quarters. It was but a few miles from the field
of battle. In the event of  victory they could at once join their
husbands, while in case of defeat they could take refuge in the
sanctuary of the abbey.  Messengers the night before had brought
the news that the battle would begin at  the dawn of day, and with
intense anxiety they waited for the news.

Dame Tresham and her son attended early mass at the abbey, and had
returned to their lodgings, when Sir  Thomas rode up at full speed.
His armour was dinted and his plume shorn away from his helmet. As
he  entered the house he was met by his wife, who had run downstairs
as she heard his horse stop at the door. A  glance at his face was
sufficient to tell the news.

"We have lost the day," he said. "Warwick and Montague are both
killed. All is lost here for the present.  Which will you do, my
love, ride with me to the West, where Queen Margaret will speedily
land, if indeed  she has not landed already, or take sanctuary here
with the boy?"

"I will go with you," she said. "I would vastly rather do so."

"I will tell you more on the road," he said. "There is no time to
be lost now."

The woman of the house was called, and at once set her son to
saddle the other horse and to give a feed to  that of the knight.
Dame Tresham busied herself with packing the saddlebags while her
husband partook of  a hasty meal; and ten minutes after his arrival
they set off, Gervaise riding behind his father, while the latter
led the horse on which his wife was mounted. A thick mist hung over
the country.

"This mist told against us in the battle, wife, for as we advanced
our forces fell into confusion, and more  than once friend attacked
friend, believing that he was an enemy.  However, it has proved an
advantage to  us now, for it has enabled great numbers to escape
who might otherwise have been followed and cut down.  I was very
fortunate. I had left my horse at a little farmhouse two miles in
the rear of our camp, and in the  fog had but small hope of finding
it; but soon after leaving the battlefield, I came upon a rustic
hurrying in  the same direction as myself, and upon questioning him
it turned out that he was a hand on the very farm at  which I had
left the horse. He had, with two or three others, stolen out after
midnight to see the battle, and  was now making his way home again,
having seen indeed but little, but having learned from fugitives
that  we had been defeated.  He guided me to the farmhouse, which
otherwise I should assuredly never have  reached. His master
was favourable to our party, and let the man take one of the cart
horses, on which he  rode as my guide until he had placed me upon
the high road to St. Albans, and I was then able to gallop on  at
full speed."

"And Warwick and his brother Montague are both killed?"

"Both. The great Earl will make and unmake no more kings. He has
been a curse to England, with his  boundless ambition, his vast
possessions, and his readiness to change sides and to embroil the
country in  civil war for purely personal ends. The great nobles
are a curse to the country, wife. They are, it is true, a  check
upon kingly ill doing and oppression; but were they, with their
great arrays of retainers and feudal  followers, out of the way,
methinks that the citizens and yeomen would be able to hold their
own against  any king."

"Was the battle a hard fought one?"

"I know but little of what passed, except near the standard of
Warwick himself. There the fighting was  fierce indeed, for it was
against the Earl that the king finally directed his chief onslaught.
Doubtless he was  actuated both by a deep personal resentment
against the Earl for the part he had played and the humiliation
he had inflicted upon him, and also by the knowledge that a defeat
of Warwick personally would be the  heaviest blow that he could
inflict upon the cause of Lancaster."

"Then do you think the cause is lost?"

"I say not that. Pembroke has a strong force in Wales, and if the
West rises, and Queen Margaret on landing  can join him, we may
yet prevail; but I fear that the news of the field of Barnet will
deter many from  joining us. Men may risk lands and lives for a
cause which seems to offer a fair prospect of success, but  they
can hardly be blamed for holding back when they see that the chances
are all against them. Moreover,  as a Frenchwoman, it cannot be
denied that Margaret has never been popular in England, and her
arrival  here, aided by French gold and surrounded by Frenchmen,
will tell against her with the country people. I  went as far as
I could on the day before I left Amboise, urging her on no account
to come hither until  matters were settled. It would have been
infinitely better had the young prince come alone, and landed in
the West without a single follower. The people would have admired
his trust in them, and would, I am sure,  have gathered strongly
round his banner. However, we must still hope for the best. Fortune
was against us  today: it may be with us next time we give battle.
And with parties so equally divided throughout the  country a signal
victory would bring such vast numbers to our banners that Edward
would again find it  necessary to cross the seas."



CHAPTER II THE BATTLE OF TEWKESBURY


Riding fast, Sir Thomas Tresham crossed the Thames at Reading before
any news of the battle of Barnet  had arrived there. On the third
day after leaving St.  Albans he reached Westbury, and there heard
that the  news had been received of the queen's landing at Plymouth
on the very day on which her friends had been  defeated at Barnet,
and that she had already been joined by the Duke of Somerset, the
Earl of Devon, and  others, and that Exeter had been named as the
point of rendezvous for her friends.  As the Lancastrians  were
in the majority in Wiltshire and Somerset, there was no longer any
fear of arrest by partisans of York,  and after resting for a day
Sir Thomas Tresham rode quietly on to Exeter, where the queen had
already  arrived.

The battle of Barnet had not, in reality, greatly weakened the
Lancastrian cause. The Earl of Warwick was  so detested by the
adherents of the Red Rose that comparatively few of them had joined
him, and the fight  was rather between the two sections of Yorkists
than between York and Lancaster. The Earl's death had  broken up
his party, and York and Lancaster were now face to face with each
other, without his disturbing  influence on either side.  Among
those who had joined the queen was Tresham's great friend, the Grand
Prior of St. John's. Sir Thomas took up his lodgings in the house
where he had established himself. The  queen was greatly pleased at
the arrival of Dame Tresham, and at her earnest request the latter
shared her  apartments, while Gervaise remained with his father.

"So this is the young Knight of St. John," the prior said, on the
evening of the arrival of Sir Thomas. "I  would, Tresham, that I were
at present at Rhodes, doing battle with the infidels, rather than
engaged in this  warfare against Englishmen and fellow Christians."

"I can well understand that," Sir Thomas said.

"I could not hold aloof here, Tresham. The vows of our Order
by no means hinder us from taking part in  the affairs of our own
country. The rule of the Order is indeed against it, but the rule
is constantly broken.  Were it otherwise there could be no commanderies
in this or any other country; we should have, on  entering the Order,
to abandon our nationality, and to form part of one community in
the East. The Order is  true to its oaths. We cannot defend the Holy
Sepulchre, for that, for the present, is hopelessly lost; but we
can and do wage war with the infidel. For this funds are necessary
as well as swords, and our  commanderies throughout Europe supply
the funds by which the struggle is maintained, and, when it is
needed, send out contingents to help those fighting in the East.
It was from the neglect of this cardinal point  that the Templars
fell. Their commanderies amassed wealth and wide possessions, but
unlike us the knights  abstained altogether from fulfilling their
vows, and ceased to resist the infidel.  Therefore they were
suppressed, and, with the general approval of Europe, a portion
of their possessions was handed over to the  knights of St. John.
However, as I understand, it is your wish that as soon as the
boy comes of age to wield  arms he shall go to Rhodes and become
an active member of the Order. This is indeed the rule with all
neophytes, but having served a certain time they are then permitted to
return and join one of the  commanderies in their native countries."

"I do not wish that for Gervaise," his father said; "at least,
I wish him to remain at Rhodes until all the civil  troubles are
absolutely at an end here. My life has been ruined by them. Loving
retirement and quiet, and  longing for nothing so much as a life
among my tenantry, I have almost from a boy been actively engaged
in warfare or have been away as an exile. Here every one of gentle
blood has been more or less mixed up in  these civil broils. To
few of us does it personally matter whether a member of the House
of York or  Lancaster sits on the throne, and yet we have been
almost compelled to take sides with one or the other; and  now,
in my middle age I am on the eve of another battle in which I risk
my life and fortune. If we win I  gain naught but the satisfaction
of seeing young Edward made King of England. If we lose I am going
into  exile again, or I may leave my wife a widow, and my child
penniless."

"It is too true, Tresham; and as I am as likely to fall as you are,
the child might be left without a protector as  well as fatherless.
However, against that I will provide. I will write a letter
to Peter D'Aubusson, who is the  real governor of Rhodes, for the
Grand Master Orsini is so old that his rule is little more than
nominal. At  his death D'Aubusson is certain to be elected Grand
Master. He is a dear friend of mine. We entered the  Order the
same year, and were comrades in many a fight with the Moslems, and
I am quite sure that when I  tell him that it is my last request
of him, he will, in memory of our long friendship, appoint your son
as one  of the Grand Master's pages. As you know, no one, however
high his rank, is accepted as a novice before  the age of sixteen.
After a year's probation he is received into the body of the
Order as a professed knight,  and must go out and serve for a time
in Rhodes. After three years of active service he must reside two
more  at the convent, and can then be made a commander. There is
but one exception to the rule -- namely, that  the pages of the
grand master are entitled to the privilege of admission at the age
of twelve, so that they  become professed knights at thirteen. Your
son is now but nine, you say, and we must remember that  D'Aubusson
is not yet Grand Master, and Orsini may live for some years yet.
D'Aubusson, however, can  doubtless get him to appoint the boy
as one of his pages. But, in any case, there are three years yet
to be  passed before he can go out. Doubtless these he will spend
under his mother's care; but as it is as well to  provide against
everything, I will furnish your dame with a letter to the knight
who will probably succeed  me as Grand Prior of the English langue,
asking him to see to the care and education of the boy up to the
time when he can proceed to Rhodes. We may hope, my dear Tresham,
that there will be no occasion to use  such documents, and that you
and I may both be able personally to watch over his career. Still,
it is as well  to take every precaution. I shall, of course, give
D'Aubusson full particulars about you, your vow, and your  wishes."

"I thank you greatly, old friend," Sir Thomas said. "It has taken
a load off my mind. I shall leave him here  with his mother when
we march forward, and bid her, if ill befalls me, cross again to
France, and then to  keep Gervaise with her until she can bring
herself to part with him. She has her jewels and a considerable
sum of money which I accepted from the man who has been enjoying
my estates for the last five years, in  lieu of the monies that he
had received during that time. Therefore, she will not lack means
for some years  to come. Besides, Queen Margaret has a real affection
for her, and will, doubtless, be glad to have her with  her again
in exile."

"When I am old enough," Gervaise said, suddenly looking up from a
missal of the Grand Prior's which he  had been examining, "I will
chop off the head of the Duke of York, and bring mother back to
England."

"You will be a valiant champion no doubt, my boy," the prior said,
laughing. "But that is just what your  father does not want. Chop
off the heads of as many infidels as you will, but leave Englishmen
alone, be  they dukes or commoners. It is a far more glorious
career to be aiding to defend Europe against the Moslem  than to be
engaged in wars with your own countrymen. If the great lords will
fight, let them fight it out  themselves without our aid; but I
hope that long before you become a man even they will be tired of
these  perpetual broils, and that some agreement may be arrived
at, and peace reign in this unhappy land."

"Besides, Gervaise," his father added, "you must bear in mind always
that my earnest wish and hope is that  you will become a champion
of the Cross. I took a solemn vow before you were born that if a
son were  granted to me I would dedicate him to the service of the
Cross, and if I am taken from you, you must still  try to carry
that oath into effect. I trust that, at any rate for some years
after you attain manhood, you will  expend your whole strength and
powers in the defence of Christianity, and as a worthy knight of
the Order  of St. John. Too many of the knights, after serving for
three years against the infidels, return to their native  countries
and pass the rest of their lives in slothful ease at their
commanderies, save perhaps when at any  great crisis they go out
for a while and join in the struggle. Such is not the life I should
wish you to lead. At  the death of your mother and myself, you will
have no family ties in England -- nothing to recall you here.  If
the House of York succeeds in establishing itself firmly on the
throne, my estates will be forfeited.  Therefore, regard Rhodes as
your permanent home, and devote your life to the Order.  Beginning
so young,  you may hope to distinguish yourself -- to gain high
rank in it; but remember that though these are my  wishes, they
are not my orders, and that your career must be in your own hands."

"I will be a brave knight, father," the boy said firmly.

"That is right, my boy. Now go upstairs to your bed; it is already
late. I do not regret my vow," he went on,  after Gervaise had left
the room, "though I regret that he is my only son. It is singular
that men should care  about what comes after them, but I suppose it
is human nature. I should have liked to think that my  descendants
would sit in the old house, and that men of my race and name would
long own the estates. But  doubtless it is all for the best; for
at least I can view the permanent loss of my estates, in case the
Yorkists  triumph, without any poignant regret."

"Doubtless it is for the best, Tresham, and you must remember that
things may not, even now, turn out as  you think. A knight who has
done a brave service does not find much difficulty in obtaining
from the Pope  a dispensation from his vows. Numbers of knights
have so left the Order and have married and perpetuated  their name.
It is almost a necessity that it should be so, for otherwise many
princes and barons would  object to their sons entering the Order.
Its object is to keep back the irruption of the Moslems, and when
men have done their share of hard work no regret need be felt
if they desire to leave the Order. Our founder  had no thought of
covering Europe with monasteries, and beyond the fact that it is
necessary there should  be men to administer our manors and estates,
I see no reason why any should not freely leave when they  reach
the age of thirty or thirty-five, and indeed believe that it would
strengthen rather than weaken us were  the vows, taken at the age
of seventeen, to be for fifteen years only."

"There is something in that," the knight said thoughtfully. "However,
that is far in the distance, and  concerns me but little; still,
I agree with you, for I see no advantage in men, after their time
of usefulness to  the Order is past, being bound to settle down to
a monastic life if by nature and habit unsuited for it. There  are
some spirits who, after long years of warfare, are well content
so to do, but there are assuredly others to  whom a life of forced
inactivity, after a youth and manhood spent in action, must be
well nigh unendurable.  And now tell me frankly what you think of
our chances here."

"Everything depends upon time. Promises of aid have come in from
all quarters, and if Edward delays we  shall soon be at the head of
an overwhelming force. But Edward, with all his faults and vices,
is an able and  energetic leader, and must be well aware that if he
is to strike successfully he must strike soon. We must  hope that
he will not be able to do this. He cannot tell whether we intend
to march direct to London, or to  join Pembroke in Wales, or to
march north, and until he divines our purpose, he will hardly dare
to move  lest we should, by some rapid movement, interpose between
himself and London. If he gives us a month,  our success is certain.
If he can give battle in a fortnight, no one can say how the matter
will end."

Edward, indeed, was losing no time. He stayed but a few days
in London after his victory at Barnet, and on  the 19th of April
left for Windsor, ordering all his forces to join him there. The
Lancastrians had  endeavoured to puzzle him as to their intended
movements by sending parties out in various directions; but  as
soon as he had gathered a force, numerically small, but composed
of veteran soldiers, he hurried west,  determined to bring on a
battle at the earliest opportunity. The queen's advisers determined
to move first to  Wells, as from that point they could either go
north or march upon London. Edward entered Abingdon on  the 27th,
and then, finding the Lancastrians still at Wells, marched to the
northwest, by which means he  hoped to intercept them if they moved
north, while he would be able to fall back and bar their road to
London if they advanced in that direction. He therefore moved to
Cirencester, and waited there for news  until he learned that they
had visited Bristol and there obtained reinforcements of men and
supplies of  money and cannon, and had then started on the high
road to Gloucester.

He at once sent off messengers to the son of Lord Beauchamp, who
held the Castle of Gloucester for him,  assuring him that he was
following at full speed, and would come to his aid forthwith. The
messengers  arrived in time, and when the queen, after a long march,
arrived before Gloucester, she found the gates shut  in her face.
The governor had taken steps to prevent her numerous adherents in
the town from rising on her  behalf, and, manning the walls, refused
to surrender. Knowing that Edward was coming up rapidly, it was
evident that there was no time to spare in an attempt to take the
town, and the queen's army therefore  pressed on, without waiting,
to Tewkesbury. Once across the river they would speedily be joined
by the  Earl of Pembroke, and Edward would be forced to fall back
at once.

By the time they reached the river, however, they were thoroughly
exhausted. They had marched thirty-six  miles without rest, along
bad roads and through woods, and were unable to go farther. The
queen urged that  the river should be crossed, but the leaders of
the force were of opinion that it was better to halt. Edward  would
be able to follow them across the river, and were he to attack
them when in disorder, and still further  wearied by the operation
of making the passage, he would certainly crush them.  Moreover,
a further retreat  would discourage the soldiers, and as a battle
must now be fought, it was better to fight where they were,
especially as they could choose a strong position. The queen gave
way, and the army encamped on a large  field in front of the town.
The position was well calculated for defence, for the country
around was so  broken and intercepted with lanes and deep hedges
and ditches, that it was extremely difficult of approach.

In the evening Edward came up, his men having also marched some
six-and-thirty miles, and encamped for  the night within three miles
of the Lancastrian position. The queen's troops felt confident of
victory. In  point of numbers they were superior to their antagonists,
and had the advantage of a strong position. Sir  Thomas Tresham
had, as he proposed, left his wife and son at Exeter when the force
marched away.

"Do not be despondent, love," he said to his weeping wife, as he
bade her goodbye. "Everything is in our  favour, and there is a
good hope of a happy termination to this long struggle. But, win
or lose, be assured it  is the last time I will draw my sword. I
have proved my fidelity to the House of Lancaster; I have risked
life  and fortune in their cause; but I feel that I have done my
share and more, and whichever way Providence  may now decide the
issue of the struggle, I will accept it. If we lose, and I come
scatheless through the  fight, I will ride hither, and we will
embark at Plymouth for France, and there live quietly until the
time  comes when Edward may feel himself seated with sufficient
firmness on the throne to forgive past offences  and to grant
an amnesty to all who have fought against him. In any other case,
dear, you know my wishes,  and I bid you carry them out within
twenty-four hours of your receiving news of a defeat, without
waiting  longer for my appearance."

As soon as it was light, Edward advanced to the attack.  The Duke
of Gloucester was in command of the  vanguard.  He himself led
the centre, while the rear was commanded by the Marquis of Dorset
and Lord  Hastings. The most advanced division of Lancastrians
was commanded by the Duke of Somerset and his  brother. The Grand
Prior of the Order of St. John and Lord Wenlock were stationed in
the centre, the Earl  of Devon with the reserve. Refreshed by their
rest, the queen's troops were in good spirits. While awaiting  the
attack, she and the prince rode among the ranks, encouraging the
men with fiery speeches, and  promising large rewards to all in
case of victory.

Gloucester made his advance with great difficulty. The obstacles
to his progress were so many and serious  that his division was
brought to a halt before it came into contact with the defenders.
He therefore brought  up his artillery and opened a heavy cannonade
upon Somerset's position, supporting his guns with flights of
arrows, and inflicting such heavy loss upon him that the duke felt
compelled to take the offensive.

Having foreseen that he might be obliged to do so, he had, early
in the morning, carefully examined the  ground in front of him, and
had found some lanes by which he could make a flank attack on the
enemy.  Moving his force down these lanes, where the trees and hedges
completely hid his advance from the  Yorkists, he fell suddenly
upon Edward's centre, which, taken by surprise at the unexpected
attack, was  driven in confusion up the hill behind it.  Somerset
was quick to take advantage of his success, and  wheeling his men
round fell upon the Duke of Gloucester's division, and was equally
successful in his  attack upon it.  Had the centre, under Lord
Wenlock, moved forward at once to his support, the victory  would
have been assured; but Wenlock lay inactive, and Somerset was now
engaged in conflict with the  whole of Edward's force. But even
under these circumstances he still gained ground, when suddenly
the  whole aspect of the battle was changed.

Before it began Edward had sent two hundred spearmen to watch a
wood near the defenders' lines, as he  thought that the Lancastrians
might place a force there to take him in flank as he attacked
their front. He  ordered them, if they found the wood unoccupied,
to join in the fight as opportunity might offer. The wood  was
unoccupied, and the spearmen, seeing the two divisions of their army
driven backwards, and being  thereby cut off from their friends,
issued from the wood and, charging down in a body, fell suddenly
upon  Somerset's rear.

Astounded and confused by an attack from such a quarter, and believing
that it was an act of treachery by  one of their own commanders,
Somerset's men, who had hitherto been fighting with the greatest
bravery,  fell into confusion. Edward's quick eye soon grasped the
opportunity, and rallying his troops he charged  impetuously down
upon the Lancastrians, seconded hotly by Gloucester and his division.

The disorder in Somerset's lines speedily grew into a panic, and
the division broke up and fled through the  lanes to the right
and left. Somerset, after in vain trying to stop the panic, rode
furiously back into the  camp, followed by his principal officers,
and riding up to Lord Wenlock he cleft his head in two with a
battleaxe. His resentment, although justified by the inactivity of
this nobleman at such a crisis, was yet  disastrous, as it left the
centre without a leader, and threw it into a state of disorganization,
as many must  have supposed that Somerset had turned traitor and
gone over to the enemy. Before any disposition could  be made,
Edward and Gloucester poured their forces into the camp, and the
Lancastrians at once broke and  fled. Many of their leaders took
refuge in the church, an asylum which they deemed inviolable, and
which  the Lancastrians had honourably respected in their hour of
triumph.

Among them were the Duke of Somerset, the Grand Prior of the Order
of St. John, Sir Humphrey Audely,  Sir Gervis of Clifton, Sir William
Gainsby, Sir William Cary, Sir Henry Rose, Sir Thomas Tresham,
and  seven esquires.  Margaret of Anjou fell into the hands of the
victors. As to the fate of the young prince,  accounts differ. Some
authorities say that he was overtaken and slain on the field, but
the majority related  that he was captured and taken before Edward,
who asked him, "What brought you to England?" On his  replying
boldly, "My father's crown and mine own inheritance," Edward struck
him in the mouth with his  gauntlet, and his attendants, or some
say his brothers, at once despatched the youth with their swords.

The king, with Gloucester and Clarence, then went to the church
at Tewkesbury, where the knights had  taken refuge, burst open the
doors, and entered it. A priest, bearing the holy vessels, threw
himself before  the king, and would not move until he promised to
pardon all who had taken sanctuary there. The king then  retired,
and trusting in the royal word, the gentlemen made no attempt to
escape, although it is said that  they could easily have done so.
Two days later a party of soldiers by the king's orders broke into
the  church, dragged them from the foot of the altar, and beheaded
them outside.

The news of the issue of the fatal battle of Tewkesbury, the capture
of the queen, and the death of the  prince, was borne to Exeter by
fugitives on the following day. Beyond the fact that the Earl of
Devon and  other nobles were known to have been killed, and Somerset
with a party of knights had taken sanctuary,  they could give no
details as to the fate of individuals. In the deepest distress at
the utter ruin of the cause,  and in ignorance of the fate of her
husband, who she could only hope was one of those who had gained
sanctuary, Dame Tresham prepared for flight. This accomplished,
she had only to wait, and sit in tearless  anguish at the window,
listening intently whenever a horseman rode past. All night her
watch continued.   Gervaise, who had cried himself to sleep, lay
on a couch beside her. Morning dawned, and she then knew  that her
husband would not come, for had he escaped from the field he would
long ere this have been with  her. The messenger with the news
had arrived at eight the previous morning, and, faithful to her
husband's  wishes, at that hour she ordered the horses to be brought
round, and, joining a party of gentlemen who were  also making for
the coast, rode with them to Plymouth. Arrangements were at once
made with the captain  of a small ship in the port, and two days
later they landed at Honfleur, where Sir Thomas had enjoined his
wife to wait until she heard from him or obtained sure news of his
fate.

A week after her arrival the news was brought by other fugitives
of the violation of the sanctuary by the  king, and the murder of
Somerset and the gentlemen with him, of whom Sir Thomas Tresham
was known  to have been one.

The blow proved fatal to Dame Tresham. She had gone through many
trials and misfortunes, and had ever  borne them bravely, but the
loss of her husband completely broke her down. Save to see his
wishes  concerning their son carried out, she had no longer any
interest in life or any wish to live. But until the  future of
Gervaise was assured, her mission was unfulfilled. His education
was her sole care; his mornings  were spent at a monastery, where
the monks instructed the sons of such of the nobles and gentry of
the  neighbourhood as cared that they should be able to read and
write. In the afternoon he had the best masters  in the town in
military exercises. His evenings he spent with his mother, who strove
to instill in him the  virtues of patience, mercy to the vanquished,
and valour, by stories of the great characters of history. She
herself spent her days in pious exercises, in attending the services
of the Church, and in acts of charity and  kindness to her poorer
neighbours. But her strength failed rapidly, and she was but a shadow
of her former  self when, two years and a half after her arrival at
Honfleur, she felt that if she was herself to hand Gervaise  over
to the Order of St. John, she must no longer delay. Accordingly
she took ship to London, and landing  there made her way with him
to the dwelling of the Order at Clerkenwell. It was in process of
rebuilding,  for in 1381 it had been first plundered and then burned
by the insurgents under Wat Tyler. During the  ninety years that
had elapsed since that event the work of rebuilding had proceeded
steadily, each grand  prior making additions to the pile which,
although not yet fully completed, was already one of the grandest
and stateliest abodes in England.

On inquiring for the grand prior, and stating that she had a letter
of importance for him, Dame Tresham and  her son were shown up to
his apartment, and on entering were kindly and courteously received
by him  when informed that she was the widow of the late Sir Thomas
Tresham.

"I am the bearer of a letter for you, given into my hand by my
husband's dear friend your predecessor," she  said, "a few days
before his murder at Tewkesbury. It relates to my son here."

The grand prior opened the letter and read it.

"Assuredly, madam, I will carry out the wishes here expressed," he
said. "They are, that I should forward at  once the letter he has
given you to Sir Peter D'Aubusson, and that until an answer is
received from him, I  should take care of the boy here, and see
that he is instructed in all that is needful for a future knight of
our  Order. I grieve to see that you yourself are looking so ill."

"My course is well nigh run," she said. "I have, methinks, but
a few days to live. I am thankful that it has  been permitted to
me to carry out my husband's wishes, and to place my boy in your
hands. That done, my  work on earth is finished, and glad indeed
am I that the time is at hand when I can rejoin my dear husband."

"We have a building here where we can lodge ladies in distress or
need, Dame Tresham, and trust that you  will take up your abode
there."

"I shall indeed be thankful to do so," she replied. "I know no one
in London, and few would care to lodge a  dying woman."

"We are Hospitallers," the grand prior said. "That was our sole
mission when we were first founded, and  before we became a military
order, and it is still a part of our sworn duty to aid the distressed."

A few minutes later Dame Tresham was conducted to a comfortable
apartment, and was given into the  charge of a female attendant. The
next day she had another interview with the grand prior, to whom
she  handed over her jewels and remaining money. This she prayed him
to devote to the furnishing of the  necessary outfit for Gervaise.
She spent the rest of the day in the church of the hospital, had a
long talk with  her son in the evening, giving him her last charges
as to his future life and conduct, and that night, as if she  had
now fulfilled her last duty on earth, she passed away, and was
found by her attendant lying with a look  of joy and peacefulness
on her dead face.

Gervaise's grief was for a time excessive. He was nearly twelve
years old, and had never until now been  separated from her even
for a day. She had often spoken to him of her end being near, but
until the blow  came he had never quite understood that it could
be so. She had, on the night before her death, told him that  he
must not grieve overmuch for her, for that in any case they must
have soon been sundered, and that it  was far better that he should
think of her as at rest, and happy, than as leading a lonely and
sorrowful life.

The grand prior, however, wisely gave him but little time to dwell
upon his loss, but as soon as her funeral  had taken place, handed
him over to the knights who had the charge of the novices on
probation, and  instructed them in their military exercises, and
of the chaplain who taught them such learning as was  considered
requisite for a knight of the Order.

The knights were surprised at the proficiency the lad had already
attained in the use of his weapons.

"By St. Agatha," one of them exclaimed, after the conclusion of his
first lesson, "you have had good  teachers, lad, and have availed
yourself rarely of them. If you go on like this you will become
a  distinguished knight of our Order.  With a few more years to
strengthen your arms I warrant me you will  bear your part well in
your first tussle with the Moslem corsairs."

It fortunately happened that a party of knights were starting for
Rhodes a few days after the admission of  Gervaise to the Hospital,
and the letter to Sir Peter D'Aubusson was committed to their
charge. They were  to proceed to Bordeaux by ship, then to journey
by land to Marseilles, and thence, being joined by some  French
knights, to sail direct to Rhodes. Two months later an answer
was received. D'Aubusson wrote to  the grand prior saying that he
would gladly carry out the last wishes of his dead friend, and that
he had  already obtained from the grand master the appointment of
Gervaise Tresham as one of his pages, and  begged that he might
be sent out with the next party of knights leaving England. It was
three months before  such an opportunity occurred. During that time
Gervaise remained at the house of St. John's studying  diligently,
and continuing his military exercises. These were severe; for
the scions of noble houses, who  hoped some day to distinguish
themselves as knights, were put through many gymnastic exercises
-- were  taught to spring on to a horse when clad in full armour,
to wield heavy battleaxes, to run and climb, and to  prepare themselves
for all the possibilities of the mode of fighting of the day.

Gervaise gained the encomiums, not only of his special preceptor,
but of the various knights in the house,  and of the grand prior
himself, both for his strength and activity, and for the earnestness
with which he  worked. When the time approached for his leaving
England, the grand prior ordered for him the outfit  which would
be necessary in his position as a page of the grand master. The
dresses were numerous and  rich, for although the knights of St.
John wore over their armour the simple mantle of their order, which
was a sleeveless garment of black relieved only by a white cross
on the chest, they indulged in the finest  and most costly armour,
and in rich garments beneath their black mantles when not in armour.

"I am well pleased with you, Gervaise," the grand prior said, on
the evening before he was to leave, "and I  see in you the making
of a valiant knight of the Order. Maintain the same spirit you
have shown here; be  obedient and reverent to your superiors; give
your whole mind to your duties; strive earnestly during the  three
or four years that your pagedom will last, to perfect yourself in
military exercises, that when the time  comes for you to buckle on
armour you will be able to bear yourself worthily. Remember that you
will  have to win your knighthood, for the Order does not bestow
this honour, and you must remain a professed  knight until you
receive it at the hands of some distinguished warrior. Ever bear
in mind that you are a  soldier of the Cross. Avoid luxury, live
simply and modestly; be not led away by others, upon whom their
vows may sit but lightly; keep ever in your mind that you have
joined the Order neither to gain fame nor  personal advantage, but
simply that you may devote the strength and the intelligence that
God has given  you to protect Christendom from the advance of the
infidel. I shall hear of you from time to time from  D'Aubusson,
and feel sure that the expectations I have formed of you will be
fulfilled."



CHAPTER III THE GRAND MASTER'S PAGE


The grand prior had, in accordance with Dame Tresham's request,
sent the steward of the house to one of  the principal jewellers
of the city who, as the Order were excellent customers, paid a good
price for her  jewels. After the payment for the numerous dresses
required for the service as a page to the grand master,  the grand
prior handed the balance of the money Dame Tresham had brought
with her, and that obtained by  the sale of her jewels, to one of
the knights under whose charge Gervaise was to travel, to be given
by him  to D'Aubusson for the necessities of Gervaise as a page.
During their term of service the pages received no  remuneration,
all their expenses being paid by their families. Nevertheless, the
post was considered so  honourable, and of such great advantage
to those entering the Order, that the appointments were eagerly
sought after.

The head of the party was Sir Guy Redcar, who had been a commander
in England, but who was now  relinquishing that post in order to
take a high office in the convent at the Island. With him were four
lads  between seventeen and twenty who were going out as professed
knights, having served their year of  probation as novices at the
grand priory. With these Gervaise was already acquainted, as they
had lived,  studied, and performed their military exercises together.
The three eldest of these Gervaise liked much, but  the youngest
of the party, Robert Rivers, a relation of the queen, had always
shown a very different spirit  from the others. He was jealous
that a member of one of the defeated and disinherited Lancastrian
families  should obtain a post of such honour and advantage as that
of page to the grand master, and that thus,  although five years
younger, Gervaise should enter the Order on an equality with him.

In point of strength and stature he was, of course, greatly superior
to Gervaise; but he had been spoilt from  his childhood, was averse
to exercise, and dull at learning, and while Gervaise was frequently
commended  by his instructors, he himself was constantly reproved,
and it had been more than once a question whether  he should be
received as a professed knight at the termination of his year of
novitiate. Thus, while the other  lads treated Gervaise kindly, and
indeed made rather a pet of him, Robert Rivers ignored him as much
as  possible, and if obliged to speak to him did so with a pointed
rudeness that more than once brought upon  him a sharp reproof
from his companions.  Gervaise himself was but little affected
by Robert's manner.  He  was of an exceptionally good tempered
nature, and, indeed, was so occupied with his work and so anxious
to satisfy his teachers, that Robert's ill humour passed almost
unnoticed.

The journey was performed without incident. During their passage
across the south of France, Gervaise's  perfect knowledge of the
language gained for him a great advantage over his companions, and
enabled him  to be of much use to Sir Guy. They had fine weather
during their passage up the Mediterranean, and in the  day their
leader gave them their first lessons in the management and discipline
of a ship.

"You will be nearly as much at sea as you are on land for the five
years you must stay at the convent," he  said; "and it is essential
to the education of a knight of our Order to know all things
connected with the  management of a ship, even to its building. We
construct our own galleys at Rhodes, using, of course, the  labour
of slaves, but under our own superintendence; and it is even more
essential to us to know how to  fight on sea than on land. There
is, too, you see, a rivalry among ourselves, for each langue has
its duties,  and each strives to perform more gallant deeds and
to bring in more rich prizes than the others. We of  England are
among the smallest of the langues, and yet methinks we do a fair
portion of the work, and gain  fully our share of honour. There
is no fear of your having much time on your hands, for it is quite
certain  that there will soon be open war between Mahomet and the
Order. In spite of the nominal truce, constant  skirmishes are
taking place, so that, in addition to our fights with pirates, we
have sometimes encounters  with the sultan's galleys.

"Seven years ago, a number of our Order took part in the defence
of Lesbos, and lost their lives at its  capture, and we have sure
information that Mahomet is preparing for an attack on the Island.
No doubt he  thinks it will be an easy conquest, for in '57 he
succeeded in landing eighteen thousand men on the Island,  and in
ravaging a large district, carrying off much booty. Since then,
however, the defences of Rhodes have  been greatly strengthened.
Zacosta, our last grand master, laboured diligently to increase the
fortifications,  and, specially, built on one side of the entrance
to the harbour a strong tower, called Fort St.  Nicholas.  Orsini
has carried on the works, which have been directed by D'Aubusson,
who is captain general of the  forces of the Island, and who has
deepened the ditches and built a wall on the sea front of the town
six  hundred feet in length and twenty feet in height, money being
found by the grand master from his private  purse.

"At present we are not sure whether the great armament that Mahomet
is preparing is intended for the  capture of Negropont, which
belongs to Venice, or of Rhodes.  Unfortunately Venice and Rhodes
are not  good friends. In the course of our war with Egypt in
'58 we captured from some Venetian vessels, in which  they were
travelling, several Egyptian merchants with a great store of goods.
The Venetians protested that  as the ships were theirs we had no
right to interfere with our enemies who were travelling in them,
and,  without giving time for the question to be discussed, at
once attacked our galleys, and sent a fleet against  Rhodes. They
landed on the Island, and not only pillaged the district of Halki,
but, a number of natives  having sought shelter in a cave, the
Venetians blocked up the entrance with brushwood, set it on fire,
and  suffocated them all.

"Shortly afterwards, another and larger fleet appeared off Rhodes,
and demanded the restitution of the  Egyptians and their merchandise.
There was a great division of opinion in the council; but, seeing
the great  danger that threatened us both from the Turks at
Constantinople and the Venetians, and that it was madness  at such
a time to engage in war with a Christian power, the grand master
persuaded the council to accede to  their request. There has never
been any friendly feeling between Venice and ourselves since that
time. Still,  I trust that our common danger will reunite us, and
that whether Negropont or Rhodes is attacked by the  Moslems, we
shall render loyal aid to each other."

There was great excitement among Gervaise and his companions when
it was announced that Rhodes was  in sight, and as they approached
the town they gazed with admiration at the castle with its stately
buildings,  the palace of the grand master and the Hospital of St.
John, rising above the lower town, the massive walls  strengthened
by projecting bastions, and the fortifications of the ports. Of
these there were two, with  separate entrances, divided from each
other by a narrow tongue of land. At its extremity stood Fort St.
Nicholas, which was connected by a strong wall running along the
promontory to the town. The inner port,  as it was called, was of
greater importance, as it adjoined the town itself. It was defended
in the first place  by Fort St.  Nicholas, and at the inner entrance
stood the towers of St.  John and St. Michael, one on either  side.
Into this the vessel was steered. There were many craft lying there,
among them eight or ten of the  galleys of the Order.

"We will go first to the house of our langue," Sir Guy said, "and
tell them to send down slaves to fetch up  our baggage; then I will
take you, Gervaise, to Sir Peter D'Aubusson, and hand you over to
his care."

On landing, Gervaise was surprised at the number of slaves who were
labouring at the public works, and  who formed no small proportion
of the population in the streets.  Their condition was pitiable.
They were,  of course, enemies of Christianity, and numbers of them
had been pirates; but he could not help pitying  their condition
as they worked in the full heat of the sun under the vigilant eyes
of numbers of overseers,  who carried heavy whips, in addition
to their arms. Their progress to the upper city was slow, for on
their  way they met many knights, of whom several were acquainted
with Sir Guy; and each, after greeting him,  demanded the latest
news from England, and in return gave him particulars of the state
of things at Rhodes.

At last they arrived at the house of the English langue.  The Order
was divided into langues or nationalities.  Of these there were
eight -- Provence, Auvergne, France, Italy, Germany, England,
Aragon, and Castile and  Portugal. The French element was by far
the strongest. The Order had been founded in that country, and as
it possessed no less than three langues, and held the greater part
of the high official positions in the Order,  it was only kept in
check by the other langues acting together to demand their fair
share of dignities. The  grand master's authority was considerable,
but it was checked by the council, which was composed of the
bailiffs and knights of the highest order, known as Grand Crosses.
Each langue had its bailiff elected by  itself:  these resided
constantly at Rhodes. Each of these bailiffs held a high office;
thus the Bailiff of  Provence was always the grand commander of the
Order. He controlled the expenditure, superintended the  stores,
and was governor of the arsenal. The Bailiff of Auvergne was the
commander-in-chief of all the  forces, army and navy. The Bailiff
of France was the grand hospitaller, with the supreme direction of
the  hospitals and infirmaries of the Order, a hospital in those
days signifying a guest house. The Bailiff of Italy  was the grand
admiral, and the Bailiff of England was chief of the light cavalry.
Thus the difficulties and  jealousies that would have arisen at
every vacancy were avoided.

In the early days of the Order, when Jerusalem was in the hands of
the Christians, the care of the hospitals  was its chief and most
important function. Innumerable pilgrims visited Jerusalem, and
these were  entertained at the immense guest house of the Order.
But with the loss of Jerusalem and the expulsion of  the Christians
from Palestine, that function had become of very secondary importance
although there was  still a guest house and infirmary at Rhodes,
where strangers and the sick were carefully attended by the  knights.
No longer did these ride out to battle on their war horses. It was
on the sea that the foe was to be  met, and the knights were now
sailors rather than soldiers.  They dwelt at the houses of their
respective  langues; here they ate at a common table, which was
supplied by the bailiff, who drew rations for each  knight, and
received, in addition, a yearly sum for the supply of such luxuries
as were not included in the  rations. The average number of knights
residing in each of these langues averaged from a hundred to a
hundred and fifty.

It was not until some hours after his arrival that Sir Guy could
find time to take Gervaise across to the  house of the langue of
Auvergne, to which D'Aubusson belonged.  It was a larger and more
stately pile than  that of the English langue, but the arrangements
were similar in all these buildings. In the English house  Gervaise
had not felt strange, as he had the companionship of his fellow
voyagers; but as he followed Sir  Guy through the spacious halls
of the langue of Auvergne, where no familiar face met his, he
felt more  lonely than he had done since he entered the house at
Clerkenwell.

On sending in his name Sir Guy was at once conducted to the chamber
occupied by D'Aubusson. The  knight was seated at his table, examining
some plans. The room was furnished with monastic simplicity,  save
that the walls were hung with rich silks and curtains captured from
Turkish galleys.

"Welcome back to us, Sir Guy," D'Aubusson said, rising, and warmly
shaking his visitor's hand. "I have  been looking for your coming,
for we need men with clear heads. Of strong arms and valiant spirits
we  have no lack; but men of judgment and discretion, who can be
trusted to look at matters calmly and not to  be carried away by
passion, are welcome indeed to us. I was expecting you about this
time, and when I  heard that a ship had arrived from Marseilles I
made inquiries, and was glad to find that you were on  board."

"I am heartily glad to be back, D'Aubusson; I am sick of the dull
life of a commandery, and rejoice at the  prospect of stirring times
again. This lad is young Tresham, who has come out in my charge,
and for whom  you have been good enough to obtain the post of page
to the grand master."

"And no slight business was it to do so," D'Aubusson said with a
smile. "It happened there was a vacancy  when the letter concerning
him arrived, and had it been one of the highest offices in the
Order there could  not have been a keener contention for it. Every
bailiff had his candidate ready; but I seldom ask for  anything
for members of my langue, and when I told the other bailiffs that
it was to me a matter of honour  to carry out the last request of
my dead friend, they all gave way. You see, I am placed in a position
of  some little difficulty. The grand master is so enfeebled and
crippled that he leaves matters almost entirely  in my hands, and
it would be an abuse of my position, and would excite no little
jealousy, were I to use the  power I possess to nominate friends of
my own to appointments. It is only by the most rigid impartiality,
and by dividing as fairly as possible all offices between the eight
langues, that all continue to give me their  support. As you know,
we have had great difficulties and heartburnings here; but happily
they have to a  great extent been set at rest by forming a new langue
of Castile and Portugal out of that of Aragon. This has  given one
more vote to the smaller langues, and has so balanced the power
that of late the jealousies  between us have greatly subsided, and
all are working well together in face of the common danger. Well,
young sir, and how like you the prospect of your pageship?"

"I like it greatly, sir, but shall like still more the time when
I can buckle on armour and take a share of the  fighting with
the infidels. I would fain, sir, offer to you my deep and humble
thanks for the great kindness  you have shown me in procuring me
the appointment of page to the grand master."

The knight smiled kindly. "There are the less thanks due, lad,
inasmuch as I did it not for you, but for the  dear friend who wrote
to me on your behalf. However, I trust that you will do credit to
my nomination by  your conduct here."

"There is a letter from our grand prior which I have brought to
you," Sir Guy said. "He commended the lad  to me warmly, and seems
to be greatly pleased with his conduct."

D'Aubusson cut the silken string that bound the missive together,
and read the letter.

"He does indeed speak warmly," he said, as he laid it down on the
table.

"He tells me that the lad, young as he was, had been well trained
when he came, and that he worked with  great diligence during
the five months he was in the House, and displayed such skill and
strength for his  age, as to surprise his preceptors, who prophesied
that he would turn out a stout swordsman, and would be  a credit
to the Order."

"He is well furnished with garments both for ordinary and state
occasions," Sir Guy said; "and in this  packet are some sixty gold
crowns, which are the last remains of his patrimony, and which I
was to hand to  you in order to pay the necessary expenses during
his pageship."

"He could have done without that," D'Aubusson said.  "Recommended
to me as he is, I would have seen  that he lacked nothing, but was
provided with all necessaries for his position. I will in the future
take care  that in all things he is on a par with his companions."
He touched a bell on the table, and a servitor entered.

"Tell Richard de Deauville to come here," he said.

A minute later the hangings at the door were pushed aside, and a
lad about a year older than Gervaise  appeared, and, bowing deeply
to the knight, stood in a respectful attitude, awaiting his orders.

"Deauville, take this youth, Gervaise Tresham to your room. He is
appointed one of the pages of the grand  master. He is English,
but he speaks French as well as you do, having lived in France for
some years. Take  him to your apartment and treat him kindly and
well, seeing that he is a stranger and new to all here.  Tomorrow
he will go to the palace."

Gervaise bowed deeply to the two knights, and then followed the
page.

"I suppose you arrived in that ship which came in today," the latter
said, as soon as they had left the room.   "You are in luck indeed
to have obtained a pageship at the grand master's. You begin to
count your time at  once, while we do not begin to count ours until
we are seventeen. Still, good luck may befall us yet, for if  the
grand master dies, Sir Peter is sure to be chosen to succeed him.
Then, you see, we too shall be pages of  the grand master."

"How many are there of you?"

"Only De Lille and myself. Of course D'Aubusson will take on the
grand master's present pages; but as  there are five vacancies on
an average every year, he will be able to find room for us among
the number."

"Why, how many pages has the grand master?" Gervaise asked, in
surprise.

"Sixteen of them, so you may guess the duties are easy enough,
as only two are generally employed,  except, of course on solemn
occasions."

"Are there any other English besides myself?"

The boy shook his head. "There are eight belonging to the French
langues; the others are Spaniards,  Italians, or Germans. There,
this is our room and this is De Lille. De Lille, this is the grand
master's new  page, Master Gervaise Tresham, and our lord says we
are to treat him kindly and entertain him well until  tomorrow,
when he will go to the palace. He speaks our language, and has been
some years in France."

"How came you to be there?" De Lille asked Gervaise.

"My father was a Lancastrian, and my mother a great friend of our
Queen Margaret of Anjou, and they  were with her all the time she
was in exile."

"How quarrelsome you English are!" De Lille said. "You seem to be
always fighting among yourselves."

"I don't think," Gervaise said, with a smile, "there is any love
lost between Louis of France and the Duke of  Burgundy, to say
nothing of other great lords."

"No; you are right there. But though we talk a great deal about
fighting, it is only occasionally that we  engage in it."

The pages' room was a small one. It contained two pallets, which
served as seats by day, and two wooden  chests, in which they kept
their clothes.

Their conversation was interrupted by the ringing of a bell.

"That is supper," De Lille said, jumping up. "We will leave you
here while we go down to stand behind our  lord's chair. When the
meal is over we will bring a pasty or something else good, and a
measure of wine,  and have our supper together up here; and we will
tell the servitors to bring up another pallet for you. Of  course,
you can go down with us if you like."

"Thank you, I would much rather stay here. Every one would be
strange to me, and having nothing to do I  should feel in the way."

The boys nodded, and taking their caps ran off, while Gervaise,
tired by the excitement of the day, lay  down on the bed which a
servant brought up a few minutes after they had left him, and slept
soundly until  their return.

"I think I have been asleep," he said, starting up when they entered
the room again.

"You look as if you had, anyhow," De Lille laughed. "It was the
best thing you could do. We have brought  up supper. We generally
sit down and eat after the knights have done, but this is much
better, as you are  here." They sat down on the beds, carved the
pasty with their daggers, and after they had finished Gervaise
gladly accepted the proposal of the others to take a walk round
the walls.

They started from the corner of the castle looking down upon the
spit of land dividing the two ports.

"You see," De Lille said, "there is a row of small islands across
the mouth of the outer port, and the guns of  St.  Nicholas, and
those on this wall, would prevent any hostile fleet from entering."

"I hardly see what use that port is, for it lies altogether outside
the town, and vessels could not unload  there."

"No. Still, it forms a useful place of refuge. In case a great
fleet came to attack us, our galleys would lay up  in the inner
port, which would be cleared of all the merchant craft, as these
would hamper the defence; they  would, therefore, be sent round
into the outer port, where they would be safe from any attack by
sea,  although they would doubtless be burnt did an army besiege
the town."

Passing along the walls of the grand master's palace, which was a
strongly fortified building, and formed a  citadel that could be
defended after the lower town and the rest of the castle had been
taken, they came to  the western angle of the fortifications.

"You must know that each langue has charge of a separate part of
the wall. From the foot of the mole of St.   Nicholas to the grand
master's palace it is in charge of France. On the line where we now
are, between the  palace and the gate of St. George, it is held by
Germany. From that gate to the Spanish tower Auvergne is  posted.
England takes the wall between the Spanish tower and that of St.
Mary. You defend only the lower  storey of that tower, the upper
part being held by Aragon, whose charge extends up to the gate of
St. John.  Thence to the tower of Italy -- behind which lies the
Jews' quarter -- Provence is in charge, while the sea  front thence
to the mole of St. Nicholas, is held by Italy and Castile, each
taking half. Not only have the  langues the charge of defending each
its portion of the wall, but of keeping it in order at all times;
and I  may say that nowhere is the wall better kept or more fairly
decorated with carvings than where England  holds."

"You have not told me who defends the palace itself."

"That is in charge of a force composed of equal numbers of picked
knights from each langue."

Gervaise leant on the battlement and looked with admiration at the
scene beyond. The land side was  surrounded by hills, the ground
rising very gradually from the foot of the walls. Every yard of
ground was  cultivated, and was covered with brilliant vegetation.
Groves and orchards occurred thickly, while the  slopes were dotted
with chapels, summer houses -- in which the natives of the city
spent most of their time  in the hot season -- and other rustic
buildings.

"What a rich and beautiful country!" he said.

"It is very pleasant to look at," De Lille agreed. "But all this
would be a sore disadvantage to us if the Turks  were besieging
us, for the groves and orchards would conceal their approaches,
the walls and buildings  would give them shelter, and our cannon
would be of little use until they reached the farther side of the
ditch. If the Turks come, I hear it is decided to level all the
buildings and walls, and to chop down every  tree."

"If they were to plant their cannon on the hills they would do us
much harm," Gervaise remarked.

"The Turks are clumsy gunners they say," Deauville replied, "and
they would but waste their powder and  ball at that distance,
without making a breach in our walls."

"Even if they did, they could surely scarce pass that deep fosse,"
Gervaise said, looking down into the  tremendous cutting in the
solid rock that ran round the whole circuit of the walls; it was
from forty to sixty  feet deep, and from ninety to a hundred and
forty feet wide. It was from this great cutting that the stones
for  the construction of the walls, towers, and buildings of the
town had been taken, the work having been going  on ever since the
knights established themselves at Rhodes, and being performed by
a host of captives  taken in war, together with labour hired from
neighboring islands. Upon this immense work the Order had  expended
no small proportion of their revenue since their capture of the
island in 1310, and the result was a  fortress that, under the
conditions of warfare of that age, seemed almost impregnable; and
this without any  natural advantage of position.

In addition to the five great towers or bastions, the wall was
strengthened by square towers at short  intervals.  On looking
down from the wall upon which the three pages were standing, on to
the lower town,  the view was a singular one. The houses were all
built of stone, with flat roofs, after the manner of most  Eastern
cities. The streets were very narrow, and were crossed at frequent
intervals by broad stone arches.  These had the effect, not only
of giving shelter from an enemy's fire, but of affording means by
which  troops could march rapidly across the town upon the roofs
of the houses to reinforce the defenders of the  wall, wherever
pressed by the enemy. Thus the town from above presented the
appearance of a great  pavement, broken only by dark and frequently
interrupted lines.

"How different to the towns at home!" Gervaise exclaimed, as,
after gazing long upon the beautiful country  outside the walls,
he turned and looked inward. "One would hardly know that it was a
town at all."

"Yes, it is rather different to the view from the top of the tower
of Notre Dame, which I ascended while I  was staying in Paris.
But this sort of building is best here; the thickness of the stone
roofs keeps out the heat  of the sun, and it is only when it is
almost overhead that it shines down into the narrow streets. As you
can  see by the number of the people on the roofs, they use them
as a resort in the evening. Then carpets are  spread, and they
receive visitors, and can talk to their neighbours over the low
walls that separate the roofs.  You can trace the divisions. Some
of the house roofs are larger than others, but all are upon the
same level;  this being the regulation, in order that there might
be free passage everywhere for the troops."

By the time they had made the circuit of the walls darkness had
fallen, and concealed the martial features of  the scene. Lights
twinkled everywhere upon the stone terraces; the sound of lutes and
other musical  instruments came up softly on the still air, with
the hum of talk and laughter. The sea lay as smooth as a  mirror,
and reflected the light of the stars, and the black hulls of the
galleys and ships in the harbour lay still  and motionless.

Greatly pleased with his first experience of the city that was to
be his future home, Gervaise returned, with  his companions, to
the auberge of Auvergne.

The next morning the bailiff D'Aubusson bade Gervaise accompany
him to the palace of the grand master.  Here he introduced him to
Orsini, an old and feeble man, who, after a few kind words, handed
him over to  the chamberlain, who, in turn, led him to the official
who was in charge of the pages. That officer took him  down to the
courtyard, where four young knights were engaged in superintending
the military exercises of  the pages. The scene was exactly the
same as that to which Gervaise had been accustomed at the House in
London. Some of the lads were fighting with blunted swords, others
were swinging heavy bars of iron,  climbing ropes, or vaulting on
to the back of a wooden horse. All paused as the official entered
with his  charge.

"This is your new comrade, boys," he said -- "Master Gervaise
Tresham, a member of the English langue.  Be good comrades to him.
By the reports I hear I am sure that you will find him a worthy
companion."

The pages had been prepared to like the newcomer, for it was well
known that he owed his appointment to  the bailiff of Auvergne,
who was the most popular of the officials of the Order, and who
was already  regarded as the grand master. His appearance confirmed
their anticipation.  His fair complexion and nut  brown hair tinged
with gold, cut somewhat short, but with a natural wave, contrasted
with their darker  locks and faces bronzed by the sun. There was
an honest and frank look in his grey eyes, and an expression  of
good temper on his face, though the square chin and firm lips spoke
of earnestness and resolution of  purpose. The official took him
round the circle and presented him first to the knights and then
to each of his  comrades.

"You may as well join them in their exercises. In that way you will
sooner become at home with them."

Gervaise at once laid down his mantle, removed his doublet, and then
joined the others. There was but one  half hour remaining before
they broke off to go to dinner, which was at half past ten, but
the time sufficed  to show the young pages that this English lad
was the equal of all -- except two or three of the oldest -- both
in strength and in knowledge of arms. He could climb the rope
with any of them, could vault on to the  wooden horse with a heavy
cuirass and backpiece on him, and held his own in a bout with
swords against  Conrad von Berghoff, who was considered the best
swordplayer among them. As soon as the exercises  were over all
proceeded to the bath, and then to dinner. The meal was a simple
one, but Gervaise enjoyed it  thoroughly, for the table was loaded
with an abundance of fruits of kinds altogether novel to him, and
which he found delicious.

The official in charge of them sat at the head of the table, and
the meal was eaten in silence. After it was  over and they had
retired to their own rooms discipline was at an end, and they were
free to amuse  themselves as they liked.  There were many questions
to be asked and answered, but his display of strength  and skill
in the courtyard saved Gervaise from a good deal of the teasing to
which a newcomer among a  party of boys is always exposed.

He, on his part, learnt that the duties of the pages were very light.
Two only were on duty each day, being  in constant attendance on
the grand master, and accompanying him wherever he went. When he
dined in  public four of them waited on him at table, and one of
them performed the duties of taster. If he returned to  the palace
after dark, six others lined the staircase with torches. On occasions
of state ceremony, and at the  numerous religious festivals, all
were in attendance. By this time Gervaise's trunks had been brought
over  from the English auberge, where they had been conveyed from
the ship, and his garments were taken out  and inspected by his
comrades, who all admitted that they were, in point of beauty of
colour and material,  and in fashion, equal to their own.

"You will have to get one more suit, Gervaise," one of the lads
said. "At one or two of the grand  ceremonies every year we are
all dressed alike; that is the rule. On other occasions we wear
what we  choose, so that our garments are handsome, and I think it
looks a good deal better than when we are dressed  alike; though
no doubt in religious processions that is more appropriate.
De Ribaumont, our governor, will  give orders for the supply of
your state costume. He is a good fellow. Of course, he has to be
rather strict  with us; but so long as there is nothing done that
he considers discreditable to our position, he lets us do  pretty
nearly as we like.

"We have four hours a day at our military exercises, and two hours
with the sub-chaplain, who teaches us  our books and religious
duties. The rest of our time we can use as we like, except that every
day eight of us  ride for two hours and practise with the lance;
for although it is at sea we fight the Moslems, we are  expected
to become finished knights in all matters. These eight horses are
kept for our service, and such as  choose may at other times ride
them.  On Saturdays we are free from all our exercises; then some
of us  generally go on horseback for long excursions on the island,
while others take boats and go out on the sea;  one afternoon in
the week we all make a trip in a galley, to learn our duties on
board."



CHAPTER IV A PROFESSED KNIGHT


Gervaise was soon quite at home in the palace of the grand master,
and his companions were, like other  boys, of varying characters;
but as all were of noble families, were strongly impressed with
the importance  of the Order and the honour of their own position,
and were constantly in contact with stately knights and  grave
officials, their manners conformed to those of their elders; and
even among themselves there was no  rough fun, or loud disputes,
but a certain courtesy of manner that was in accordance with their
surroundings. This came naturally to Gervaise, brought up as he had
been by his father and mother, and  having at frequent intervals
stayed with them for months at the various royal castles in which
Margaret of  Anjou and her son had been assigned apartments during
their exile. Even at St. John's house the novices  with whom he
lived were all a good deal older than himself, and the discipline
of the house was much more  strict than that at Rhodes.

He enjoyed both his exercises with the knights and the time spent
with the sub-chaplain, no small  proportion of the hours of study
being occupied in listening to stories of chivalry; it being
considered one  of the most important parts of a knight's education
that he should have a thorough acquaintance, not only  with the
laws of chivalry, but with the brave deeds both of former and of
living knights, with the relations  of the noble houses of Europe
to each other, especially of the many great families whose members
were  connected with the Order of St. John.

These matters formed, indeed, the main subject of their studies. All
were taught to read and write, but this  was considered sufficient
in the way of actual instruction. The rules of the Order had to be
committed to  memory. Beyond this their reading consisted largely
of the lives of saints, especially of those who  distinguished
themselves by their charity or their devotion to their vows of
poverty, to both of which the  members of the Order were pledged.
Gervaise, however, could see around him no signs whatever of  poverty
on their part. It was true that they all lived and fed together in
the auberges of their respective  langues, and that they possessed
no houses or establishments of their own; but the magnificence of
their  armour and attire, and the lavish expenditure of some upon
their pleasures, contrasted strangely with the  poverty to which
they had vowed themselves. It was true that in many cases the means
to support the  expenditure was derived from the shares the knights
received of the plunder acquired in their captures of  Moslem ships;
but undoubtedly many must have possessed large private means; the
bailiffs, for example,  although only required by the rules to
place before the knights at their auberges the rations they received
for them, with such luxuries as could be purchased by their yearly
allowance for that purpose, expended  annually very large sums in
addition, and supplied their tables with every dainty, in order to
gain popularity  and goodwill among the members of the langue.

Not only did the post of bailiff confer upon its owner a very
high position at Rhodes, but it was a stepping  stone to the most
lucrative offices in their langues. The bailiffs at Rhodes had the
right of claiming any of  the grand priories or bailiwicks at home
that might fall vacant, and the grand master was frequently chosen
from among their number, as, by being present at Rhodes, they had
many advantages in the way of making  themselves popular among the
electors. The emoluments of some of these provincial bailiwicks
were large;  and as the bailiffs at Rhodes were generally elected
by seniority -- although younger knights who had  greatly distinguished
themselves were sometimes chosen -- they were usually glad to resign
the heavy work  and responsibility of their position at Rhodes,
and to retire to the far easier position of a provincial bailiff.
In the majority of cases, doubtless, the fortunes of the high
officials were obtained from the money amassed  when in possession
of rich commanderies at home; but even this was assuredly incompatible
with their  vows of poverty.

His hours of leisure Gervaise spent either on the water or in the
saddle, and his love of exercise of all sorts  excited the wonder
and even the amusement of his companions, who for the most part
preferred spending  the time at their disposal in sleep, in idly
looking out from a shaded room at what was going on outside, or
in visits to friends and relations at the auberges of the langues
to which they belonged. The natural  consequence was, that by the
time he reached the end of his three years' pageship, Gervaise was
indisputably superior in strength, activity, and skill in military
exercises, to any of his companions. The  majority of these, after
completing their time, returned to the headquarters of their langue
at home, to pass  their time there, until of an age to be eligible
for the charge of a commandery obtained for them by family  influence,
which had no small share in the granting of these appointments.  As
it was known, however, that  Gervaise intended to remain permanently
in the Island, his progress was watched with particular attention
by his instructors; and, seeing his own earnestness in the matter,
they took special pains with his training.  The bailiff of Auvergne
continued to take much interest in him, inquiring often from the
officers in charge  of the pages, and from his instructors, of
his conduct and progress, and occasionally sending for him to his
auberge and talking with him as to his life and progress. Just before
his pageship terminated, he said to him,  "I was rather puzzled at
first, Gervaise, as to what we should do with you when your term
of office  concluded, but I am so no longer, for, although you are
some two years younger than the professed knights  who come out
here, you are better fitted than the majority to take your place
in the naval expeditions, and  to fight the Moslem pirates. I will
see that you have your share of these adventures. All young knights
are,  as you know, obliged to make three voyages, but beyond that
many of them do not care to share in the  rough life at sea, and
prefer the bustle, and, I grieve to say, the gaiety and pleasures
of this city. For one,  then, really eager to distinguish himself,
the opportunities are frequent. When danger threatens, or heavy
engagements are expected, every knight is desirous of bearing his
part in the fray; but this is not the case  when the work to be done
consists of scouring the sea for weeks, without perchance coming
across a single  pirate. Of course, as soon as your pageship is
over you will go to the English auberge, but I shall still keep
my eye upon you, and shall do my best to help you to achieve
distinction; and I shall take upon myself the  providing of your
arms and armour as a knight."

Accordingly, on the day on which his duties as a page terminated,
two servitors of the auberge of Auvergne  brought across to the
palace a suit of fine armour and a sword, a battleaxe, a lance, and
a dagger; also three  complete suits of clothes, two of them for
ordinary wear, and one for state occasions. The next day  Gervaise
took the oaths of the Order in the Church of St. John. The aged
master himself received the vows,  and formally inducted him as a
professed knight of the Order, Peter D'Aubusson and the bailiff of
the  English langue acting as his sponsors, vouching that he was of
noble blood and in all ways fitted to become  a knight of Justice,
this being the official title of the professed knights of the
Order. Ten newly arrived  novices were inducted at the same time,
and the ceremony was a stately one, attended by a number of the
knights from each langue, all in full armour.

The ceremony over, Gervaise bore the title of Sir Gervaise Tresham;
but this was an honorary rather than a  real title, as the Order
did not profess to bestow the honour of knighthood, and it was usual
for its members  to receive the accolade at the hands of secular
knights. At the conclusion of the ceremony, he returned with  the
bailiff of the English langue to the auberge, and took up his
quarters there. By his frequent visits he was  well known to all
the members, and in a day or two felt as much at home as he had done
in the pages' room  in the palace. A week was given to him before
he was assigned to any special duty, and he was glad when  he
was told off as one of the knights who were to take their turn in
superintending the work of the slaves  employed in strengthening the
fortifications, although he would rather that any other employment
should  have been assigned to him, because he felt deep pity for
the unfortunate men who were engaged in the  work.

He knew well enough that if he himself were ever made prisoner by
the Turks, his lot would be as hard and  as hopeless as that of
the Moslem captives; but this, although he often repeated it to
himself in order to  abate his feeling of commiseration, was but a
poor satisfaction. He saw one side of the picture, and the  other
was hidden from him; and although he told himself that after slaving
in a Turkish galley he would  feel a satisfaction at seeing those
who had been his tyrants suffering the same fate, he was well aware
that  this would not be the case, and that his own sufferings would
only make him sympathise more deeply with  those of others. He had
found, soon after his arrival on the Island, that it was best to
keep his feelings on  this subject to himself.  While the knights
were bound, in accordance with their vows, to relieve sufferings
of any kind among Christians, they seemed to regard their captives
rather in the light of brute beasts than  human beings. The slaves
were struck on the smallest provocation, and even the killing of
a slave was  considered a very venial offence, and punished only
because the slave was of value to the Order.

It was true that edicts were from time to time published by the
council, enjoining fair treatment of slaves,  and it was specially
ordered that those employed as servants in the auberges were not
to be struck. The lot  of these servants was, indeed, very much
easier than that of those engaged on the public works, and such
occupation was therefore considered a privilege, the servants being
for the most part selected from among  the captives of superior
rank.

For the next six months Gervaise worked at various duties in the
town. He was employed for a fortnight in  the infirmary, then for
a while he was transferred to the galleys; but for the most part
he was with the slaves  working on the fortifications. At the end
of that time he was, to his great delight, informed by the bailiff
that he was one of the six knights of the langue told off to join
a galley that was on the point of sailing.  Among those going in
her was Sir Ralph Harcourt, one of his companions on the journey
from England.

"So you are to go with us, Gervaise," the young knight said, "to
try your luck for the first time against the  infidels.  This is
my third voyage, and I hope that it will be more fortunate than
its predecessors, for,  beyond picking up two or three small craft,
which did not venture upon resistance, we gained neither  honour nor
booty. I regard you as having specially good fortune, and besides
being glad that we shall be  together, I expect that you will bring
good luck to us, and that we shall meet with foes worth contending
with.  The corsairs have been very active of late, and have
captured many prizes, while, on the other hand,  our galleys have
been unfortunate, and have but seldom come upon the miscreants."

"How many knights will there be on board?"

"Forty. Aragon, like us, furnishes five, Germany ten, Portugal
five, Auvergne ten, and Provence five. We  shall be commanded by
Sir Louis Ricord, a knight of Auvergne, and we could wish no better,
for he has  proved himself a good seaman and a brave captain. Two
other galleys are to start with us. We are to cruise  separately
unless one gets news of a force so superior that he will need aid
to attack it, when he will meet  the others at a rendezvous agreed
upon, and we shall work together."

"Who are the other three Englishmen?"

"John Boswell, Marmaduke Lumley, and Adam Tedbond -- all, as you
know, brave knights and good  companions."

That evening Gervaise received a message from D'Aubusson, requesting
him to call at his auberge.

"So you are going to sea, Sir Gervaise? I hear from your bailiff
that you have been working to his  satisfaction in the town."

"Yes, sir. I shall indeed be glad to change it for a life at sea.
In truth, it is grievous to me to witness the  sufferings of the
slaves, and I would rather do any other work."

"They are far better off than the Christians who fall into the hands
of the Turks," the bailiff said; "and,  moreover, it is because
their countrymen are preparing to attack us that we are forced to
use their labour in  strengthening our fortifications. They have
naught to complain of in the way of food. Still, I would myself
gladly see their lot alleviated; but we could not afford to keep so
great a number of captives in idleness;  they must work for their
living. Had it not been for their labour we could never have built
and fortified the  city. After all, they are little worse off than
our serfs at home; they build our castles and till our land."

"It may be so, sir; but with us in England men are free, and it
was, when I first came, strange to me to see  them working under
the fear of the whip. It is necessary, I know, that such work should
be done, but I own  that I shall be glad to be away from the sight
of the poor wretches, pirates and enemies of the faith though  they
be."

"I can understand your feelings, and I too felt somewhat the same
when I first came here. Nevertheless,  there is work that must be
done if the Order is not to be crushed by the infidels. Here are
captives, for the  most part malefactors, who have to be fed; and
there is no injustice in their having, like all men, to give  work
for food.  I have learnt to see this and recognise the necessity,
though I would that the work could be  obtained without the use of
harshness and severity. We ourselves are prepared at any moment to
sacrifice  our lives for the good of the Order and for the great
cause, and it would be wrong, nay, sinful, not to use the  means
that have been placed ready to our hand. Now, Sir Gervaise, I wish
you a pleasant voyage. You will  find the life somewhat hard, after
your three years' residence at the palace, but this I know you will
not  mind. I have specially commended you to Ricord as one in whom
I am personally interested, and from  whom I hope great things in
the future. Be brave; be resolute. From what you have said I need
not say -- be  merciful. Fulfill all orders promptly and without
question; bear yourself courteously to all; above all things,
remember that you are a soldier, not only of the Order, but of the
Cross."

The next day Gervaise embarked with his companions on board the
galley. It was a long, low boat, similar  to those in use by the
Venetians and Genoese. It was rowed by fifty slaves, who slept at
night on or beneath  the benches they sat on by day. The knights
occupied the great cabins in the poop. There were two tiers of
these; the upper one contained the little cabin of the commander,
while the rest of the space on this deck,  and that below it, was
used by the knights in common. In the upper cabin they took their
meals, and a third  of their number slept there, the remainder in
the cabin below. A fourth of their number were, however,  always
on guard, lest any attempt at a rising or escape should be made by
the galley slaves.

On leaving the harbour the galley, with its two consorts, rowed
north, and Gervaise learnt that they were to  cruise between the
mainland and the islands. Some of these were in the hands of the
Turks, while others  were still occupied by Greeks.

Except when there was a formal and actual state of war, the Moslem
and Christian islands remained in a  state of neutrality, trading
with each other and avoiding all unfriendly proceedings that would
lead to  struggles which would be fatal to the prosperity of both.
The Archipelago, and indeed the whole of the  eastern portion of
the Mediterranean, was infested by pirates, fitted out, for the most
part, on the mainland.  These, when in force, openly kept the sea,
attacking the Christian merchant ships, but when cruising alone
they hid in unfrequented bays, or behind uninhabited islets, until
they could pounce upon a passing ship  whose size promised an easy
capture. The Order of St. John furnished a maritime police, earning
thereby  the deep gratitude of Spain, France, and Italy. They were
aided occasionally by the Venetians, but these,  being frequently
engaged in quarrels with their neighbours, did but a small share of
this work, only sending  their fleets to sea when danger threatened
some of their possessions in the Levant.

"This is delightful, Ralph," Gervaise said, as they stood together
on the poop, looking back at the receding  city.

"What a pleasant change it is from standing in the broiling sun
watching those poor wretches toiling at the  fortifications! There
is only one drawback to my pleasure.  I wish that we carried sails,
and were moved  along by the breeze, instead of by the exertions
of the slaves."

"Much chance we should have of catching a pirate under such
circumstances!" Ralph said, laughing. "You  might as well set a
tortoise to catch a hare."

"I don't say that we should not be obliged to carry rowers, Ralph;
but all the prizes that have been brought  in since I have been at
Rhodes carry masts and sails, as well as oars, and, as I understand,
for the most part  cruise about under sail, and only use the oars
when chasing or fleeing."

"That is so; because, you see, in most cases the crew themselves
have to row, and I have no doubt if we had  no slaves to do the
work we should soon take to masts and sails also; but for speed the
rowing galleys are  the best, for unless a brisk wind were blowing,
the mast and sails would but check her progress when the  oars
were out, and at any rate constrain her to travel only before the
wind. I know your weakness about the  slaves, Gervaise; but as we
could neither build our fortifications nor row our galleys without
them, I cannot  go as far as you do in the matter, though I own
that I am sometimes sorry for them. But you must remember  that it
is the fault of their people, and not of ours, that they are here."

"All that is true enough, Ralph, and I cannot gainsay you. Still
I would rather that we were gliding along  with sails instead of
being rowed by slaves."

"At any rate, Gervaise, you will not see them ill treated, for I
myself heard Ricord, just before we were  starting, tell the slave
overseers that so long as the rowers did fair work they were not
to use their whips,  and that only if we were in chase of a pirate
were they to be urged to their utmost exertions."

"I am right glad to hear it, Ralph, and shall be able to enjoy the
voyage all the more, now you have told me  that such orders have
been issued."

For a fortnight they cruised about among the islands.  Several times
boats rowed out from the shore to the  galley with complaints of
outrages by pirates under a notorious corsair named Hassan Ali,
who had landed,  burnt villages, killed many of the inhabitants,
and carried off the rest as slaves; but no one could give any  clue
to aid them in their search for the corsairs. The time passed very
pleasantly.  There was no occasion  for speed; often they lay all
day in some bay, where they could approach near enough to the shore
to lie in  the shade of trees, while two or three of the knights
ascended a hill and kept watch there for the appearance  of any
vessels of a suspicious character.  One morning, after passing the
night at anchor, Harcourt and  Gervaise were despatched just before
sunrise to take a look round before the galley got under way. From
the top of the hill they had an uninterrupted view of the sea,
studded with islands on all sides of them.  Beyond a few fishing
boats, looking like black specks on the glassy surface, no craft
were in sight. They  were about to return to the galley when, taking
a last look round, Gervaise suddenly exclaimed, "Look,  Ralph!
There is smoke ascending from that island to the southwest. There
was none just now."

"You mean from that bay, Gervaise? Yes, I see it; it is not more
than a light mist."

"It is growing thicker," Gervaise said, "and spreading.  Maybe it
is but a hut that has accidentally caught  fire, but it seems to
me that the smoke is rising from several points."

"I think you are right, Gervaise. Let us hurry down with the news.
It may be that it is a village which has  been attacked by pirates
who have landed on the other side of the island during the night,
for I can see no  ships in the bay."

A few minutes' run and they stood on the shore.

"Quick, men!" Ralph said to the rowers of the boat that had brought
them ashore. "Row your hardest."

The slaves bent to their oars, and they were soon alongside the
galley, which lay two or three hundred yards  from the shore. Those
on board had noticed the young knights running down the hill, and,
marking the  speed at which the boat was rowing, concluded at once
that they must have observed one of the pirate's  ships.

"Do you see anything of them, Sir Ralph?" the commander shouted,
as they came close.

"We have seen no ships, Sir Louis, but there is smoke coming up
from a bay in an island four or five miles  away to the southwest.
It seems to us that it is far too extensive a fire to be the result
of an accident, for  there was no smoke until within two or three
minutes of the time we left, and before we started it was rising
from several points, and we both think that it must come from a
village that has been attacked by pirates."

The commander rapidly issued his orders, and in two or three minutes
the anchor was weighed, the boat  hoisted on deck, and the oars in
motion.

"Stretch to your oars!" Ricord shouted to the slaves.  "Hitherto
we have exacted no toil from you, but you  have to work now, and
woe be to him who does not put out his full strength."

Grateful for the unusual leniency with which they had been treated,
the slaves bent to their oars, and the  galley sped rapidly
through the water. On rounding the end of the island there was an
exclamation of  satisfaction from the knights as they saw wreaths
of white smoke rising from the distant island.

"There can be no doubt that it is a village in flames," Sir Louis
said; "and from the suddenness with which  it broke out, it is
clear that it must have been fired at several points.  You say you
saw no craft near?" he  asked, turning to Harcourt.

"There were none there, or from the top of the hill we should
assuredly have made them out, Sir Louis."

"Then the pirates -- if this be, as I hope, their work -- must
have landed at some other point on the island,  and if they catch
sight of us they may make for their ship and slip away, unobserved
by us. Instead of  rowing direct, therefore, we will make for that
islet to the right, and row round behind it. There are two  others
almost adjoining it. Once past these, 'tis not more than half
a mile to that island stretching away  south. Once round that, we
shall be beyond the one from which we see the smoke rising, and
can come  down on its southern side. The course will be double the
distance that it would be if we took a straight line,  but except
when we cross from island to island we shall not be exposed to
their view, and may fall upon  their ships before the crews have
returned from their work of plunder."

The knights fully agreed, and orders were given to the helmsman
accordingly.

"We must not over fatigue the rowers," the commander said. "We may
have a long chase if they have  started before we get round."

He therefore gave orders to the slaves that, while they were to
exert themselves to the utmost when crossing  the open sea, they
were to relax their efforts and to row within their strength while
coasting along behind  the islands. On board, everything was made
in readiness for a fight: the knights buckled on their armour,  the
cooks set cauldrons of pitch over the fire, the cannoneers loaded
her eight guns.  It was an hour and a  half after their start
before they rounded the end of the last island. It extended a little
farther to the south  than did that to which they were making, and
as they rounded the point, eager looks were cast in search of  the
pirate ships. No craft were, however, to be seen.

"They must be in some bay or inlet," the commander said; "they can
hardly have left, for it would have  taken them half an hour at
least to cross the island with their booty and captives, and even
if they made  straight away after having fired the village, their
ship could have gone no great distance, for we must have  seen her
if she put to sea -- unless indeed they were anchored on the east
of the island, and have sailed in  that direction."

"Keep them rowing along steadily," he said to the overseers of the
slaves; "but do not press them too hard.   We may have a chase yet,
and need all their strength, for most of these pirates are fast
craft, and if they  should get a start of three or four miles, it
will be a long row before we catch them."

They made straight for the island, and on nearing it coasted along
its southern side. It was some three miles  long, the shore being
for the most part steep, but here and there falling gradually to
the water's edge. Two  or three little clusters of houses could be
seen as they rowed along; one of these was on fire.

"That is good," Sir Louis exclaimed, as, on turning a point, they
saw the flames. "That cannot have been  lighted long, and we are
pretty certain to come upon the vessels before the marauders have
set sail."

Several inlets and small bays were passed, but all were empty.
A few fishing boats lay on the shore, but  there were no signs of
life, as no doubt the people would, long since, have taken alarm and
sought shelter in  the woods. There was a sharp point just before
they reached the southeastern extremity of the island, and as  the
galley shot past this, a shout of exultation rose from the knights,
for, near the mouth of an inlet that now  opened to their view,
there lay four long, low vessels, above each of which floated the
Moslem flag. A  number of men were gathered on the shore near the
ships, and heavily laden boats were passing to and fro.

A yell of rage and alarm rose from the ships as the galley came into
view. There was a stir and movement  on the shore, and numbers of
men leapt into the boats there, and started for the ships. These
were some  quarter of a mile away when first seen, and half that
distance had been traversed when a puff of smoke shot  out from
the side of one of them, followed almost immediately by a general
discharge of their cannon. One  ball tore along the waist of the
galley, killing six of the rowers, and several oars on both sides
were broken.  Two balls passed through the cabins in the poop.
But there was no pause in the advance of the galley. The  whips of
the slave masters cracked, and the rowers whose oars were intact
strained at them. There was no  reply from the guns, but the
knights raised loud the war cry of the Order, a war cry that was
never heard  without striking a thrill of apprehension among their
Moslem foes.

As they neared the pirate ships, the helm was put down, and the
galley brought up alongside the largest of  them and a broadside
poured into her; then the knights, headed by their commander, leapt
on to her deck.

Although a number of the crew had not yet come off from shore,
the Moslems still outnumbered their  assailants, and, knowing that
their consorts would soon come to their aid, they threw themselves
in a body  on the Christians. But in a hand-to-hand conflict like
this, the knights of the Hospital were irresistible.  Protected
by their armour and long shields from the blows of their enemies'
scimitars and daggers, their  long, cross handled swords fell
with irresistible force on turbaned head and coat-of-mail, and,
maintaining  regular order and advancing like a wall of steel along
the deck, they drove the Moslems before them, and  the combat would
soon have terminated had not a shout been raised by one of the
overseers of the slaves.  One of the other ships had rowed alongside
the galley, and the crew were already leaping on board it. At  the
same moment another ship came up alongside that they had boarded,
while the fourth was maneuvering  to bring up under her stern.

"Sir John Boswell," Sir Louis shouted, "do you and your countrymen,
with the knights of Spain, finish with  these miscreants; knights
of Germany and Provence keep back the boarders; knights of Auvergne
follow  me," and he leapt down into the galley.

The English and Spanish knights redoubled their exertions. The
Moslems endeavoured to rally, seeing that  help was at hand, and
that but a small body were now opposed to them, but their numbers
availed little. The  ten knights kept their line, and, hewing
their way forward, pressed them so hotly that the Turks broke and
sprang over the bulwarks into the sea. Then the knights looked
round.  A fierce fight was going on between  those of Germany and
Provence and the enemy, who strove desperately to board from the
ship alongside.  The other vessel was now almost touching the stern,
and her crew were swarming to her side in readiness to  leap on
board as soon as the vessels touched.

"We will keep them at bay there," Sir John Boswell shouted. "Do
you, Don Pedro, and your comrades, aid  Ricord. When his foes are
finished with, you can come back to help us."

Then, with the four English knights, he ran along the deck, and
reached the stern just in time to hurl  backwards the Moslems, who
had already obtained a footing. For a time the five knights kept
back the  surging mass of their foes. The deck was wide enough
for each to have fair play for his sword, and in vain  the pirates
strove to obtain a footing.

At last Sir Marmaduke Lumley fell, severely wounded by an arrow
from a Moslem marksman, and before  the others could close the gap
a score of pirates leapt on to the deck.

"Fall back, comrades, fall back; but keep together!" Sir John Boswell
shouted, as he cleft the skull of one of  the pirate officers who
sprang at him. "Sir Louis will soon finish his work, and be here
to our aid. Ah!" he  exclaimed, looking over his shoulder, as he
retired a step, "Provence and Germany are overmatched too."

This was indeed the case. Stoutly as they fought the knights were
unable to guard the whole of the line of  bulwark, and the Moslems
had already obtained a footing on the deck. The discipline of the
knights stood  them in good stead. Drawing closely together as they
retreated, they made a stand on the opposite side of  the deck,
and were here joined by Sir John Boswell and his companions. They
now formed a semicircle,  each flank resting on the bulwark, and
the pirates in vain endeavoured to break their line.  Again and
again  they flung themselves upon the knights, only to be beaten
off with heavy loss. At length a loud cheer arose  from the galley,
and Sir Louis Ricord, with the knights of Auvergne and Spain having
cleared the galley of  their foes, and carried the pirate that
had grappled with her, sprang on to the deck of the ship, and fell
upon  the throng that were attacking the knights there, oblivious
of what was going on elsewhere. At once the  English knights and
their comrades took the offensive, and fell upon their assailants
who, at the sight of the  reinforcement, for a moment stood
irresolute. For a short time there was a fierce struggle; then the
pirates  sprang back to their two ships, and endeavoured to cast
off the grapnels. But the knights followed hotly  upon them, and,
panic stricken now, the pirates sprang overboard. Many were drowned,
but the greater part  managed to swim to shore.



CHAPTER V SCOURGES OF THE SEA


Breathless and faint from their tremendous exertions, the knights
removed their helmets.

"By St. Mary," Sir Louis said, "this has been as hard a fight as
I have ever been engaged in, and well may  we be content with our
victory! Well fought, my brave comrades!  Each of these vessels
must have carried  twice our number at least, and we have captured
four of them; but I fear the cost has been heavy."

Seven knights had fallen, struck down by sword, arrow, or thrust
of spear. Of the rest but few had escaped  unwounded, for, strong
as was their armour, the keen Damascus blades of the Moslems had
in many cases  cut clean through it, and their daggers had found
entry at points where the armour joined; and, now that the  fight
was over, several of the knights sank exhausted on the deck from
loss of blood.

But the dressing of wounds formed part of a knight of St. John's
training. Those who were unwounded  unbuckled the armour and
bandaged the wounds. Others fetched wine and water from the galley.
The  chains of the galley slaves were removed, and these were set
to clear the decks of the Moslem corpses. The  anchors were dropped,
for what little wind there was drifted them towards the shore. They
had learned from  a dying pirate that the vessels were part of the
fleet of Hassan Ali, a fact that added to the satisfaction felt
by the knights at their capture, as this man was one of the most
dreaded pirates of the Levant. They learnt  that he himself had
not been present, the expedition being under the command of one of
his lieutenants,  who had fallen in the fight.

"Now, comrades, let us in the first place take food; we have not
broken our fast this morning. Then let us  consider what had best be
done, for indeed we have got as much in our hands as we can manage;
but let us  leave that till we eat and drink, for we are faint
from want of food and from our exertions. But we shall  have to
eat what comes to hand, and that without cooking, for our servants
all joined the pirates when they  boarded us, and are either dead
or are ashore there."

A meal was made of bread and fruit, and this with wine sufficed to
recruit their energies.

"It seems to me, comrades," Sir Louis said, when all had finished,
"that the first thing is to search the holds  of these vessels
and see what valuables are stored there. These may be all carried
on board one ship, and  the others must be burnt, for it is clear
that, as there are four of them, we cannot take them to Rhodes; and
even with one and our galley we should fare but ill, if we fell in
with two or three more of Hassan's ships."

"But how about the pirates on shore, Sir Louis?" a knight asked.
"There were very many who could not get  off to their ships during
the fight, and scores must have swum ashore. I should say that
there must be full  two hundred, and it will be a grievous thing
for the islanders if we leave them there."

"It is certain," the commander said, "that we are not strong enough
to attack them, for were we to land, a  party would have to be
left on board, or the pirates might elude our search, seize some
fishing boats, and  regain possession.  Certainly, we are in no
position to divide our forces."

"Methinks," Sir John Boswell said, "that the best plan would be to
send a boat, manned with ten galley  slaves, taking two or three of
us to the rendezvous, to fetch hither the other two galleys. With
their aid we  might take all the four ships safe into port, after
first clearing the island of these pirates. It is but forty miles
away, and eight hours' rowing would take us there."

There was a general murmur of assent, for all wished that the trophies
of their bravery should, if possible,  be carried to Rhodes.

"That will certainly be the best plan, Sir John, though it may
detain us here for two or three days, or even  more, for it is quite
uncertain when the other two galleys may put in at the rendezvous.
Will you yourself  undertake the mission?"

"With pleasure."

"How many will you take with you?"

"Two will be sufficient, for we shall have no fighting to do, as
we shall have to trust to our speed if we fall  in with an enemy.
I will take, with your permission, Sir Ralph Harcourt and Sir
Gervaise Tresham, both of  whom have today fought with distinguished
bravery. Indeed, I owe my life to them, for more than once,  when
I was hotly pressed, they freed me from my assailants. Truly none
bore themselves better in the fray  than they did."

Three or four others joined in hearty commendations of the two
young knights.

"Indeed," one said, "I was greatly surprised to see how Tresham bore
himself. He is but a lad, with scarce,  one would think, strength
to hold his own in such a fray. It chanced that he was next to me
in the circle, and  for a time I kept my eye on him, thinking he
might require my aid; but I soon saw that I need not trouble  myself
on his account, for he wielded his weapon as doughtily as the best
knight of the Order could have  done, and one of the proofs is
that, while most of us bear marks of the conflict, he has escaped
without  scratch. I trust, Sir Louis, that when you give an account
of the fighting you will specially mention that this,  the youngest
knight of the Order, bore himself as stoutly as any of them. I say
this, Sir John, because, not  being of your langue, I can speak
more warmly than you can do of his skill and bravery."

"I thank you, De Boysey," Sir John Boswell said, "and I am proud
that my young countryman should have  so gained your approbation.
And now," he went on, "while the galley slaves are getting a meal
-- which  they have right well earned today -- I should like to
see what there is under the hatches of these ships, so  that I can
give our comrades in the other galleys some idea of the value of
this booty we have taken."

They rose from the table, and, going on board the prizes, lifted
the hatches.

"Beware!" De Boysey exclaimed, looking down into the hold, when
the first hatch was taken off. "There  are people below."

A chorus of cries followed his exclamation.

"They are the voices of women and children," Sir Louis exclaimed.
"They must be captives."

This turned out to be so. In the holds of the four ships were
found over a hundred and fifty women and  children; these had been
brought on board in the first boat loads by the pirates, and when
the Christian  galley had been seen coming round the point, had
been thrust below, and the hatches thrown over them.  They had
heard the din of battle above, but knew not how the conflict had
terminated, and, being afraid to  cry out, had remained silent until,
on the hatch being lifted, they had seen the figures of Christian
knights  standing in the bright sunshine. All had come from the
village on the other side of the island. They related  how the
pirates had suddenly burst upon them, had slaughtered all the men,
set fire to the village, and had  driven them before them across
the island to the ships. The poor creatures were delighted at their
escape  from slavery, but at the same time were full of grief at
the loss of husbands, fathers, and sons.

Some laughed, others cried; while some thanked God for their rescue
others heaped imprecations upon the  authors of their misfortunes.

The knights explained to them that for a short time they must remain
on board, as half the pirates were still  on shore, but that aid
would soon arrive that would enable them to clear the island.

Half an hour later Sir John Boswell, with the two young knights,
started in a rowing boat, manned by ten of  the galley slaves. The
wind had sprung up since the fight ceased, and as it was nearly
astern, they  anticipated that they would make a good passage, and
be at the little islet, named as the place of  rendezvous, before
nightfall.

Among the many bales of rich merchandise in the hold of the pirate
vessels an abundance of wine had been  discovered, and of this a
tankard had been given to each of the slaves, by Sir Louis's orders,
as a token of  satisfaction at their work in the morning.

They had gone some two miles when, from one of the inlets in the
island they had left a large fishing boat  was seen to issue out.

"By St. George!" Sir John exclaimed, "that boat must be full of
pirates. And if they see us, which they  cannot help doing, and
take it in their heads to chase us, we shall have a hard time of
it."

The fishing boat for a few minutes kept along the coast, and then
suddenly her course was altered, and her  head directed towards
their boat.

"Now stretch to your oars," Sir John, who spoke some Turkish, said
to the slaves. "Keep ahead of that boat,  and I promise you, on
my honour as a Christian knight, that I will myself purchase your
freedom as soon as  we get to Rhodes."

With a shout of delight, the galley slaves bent to their oars, and
the boat flew along at a greatly increased  speed.

"There is but small chance of our getting away," Sir John said
quietly. "At present we must be rowing as  fast as they sail; but
wind never tires, while there are limits to the powers of muscle
and bone. If those  fellows follow us -- and I doubt not that
they will, for they must be thirsting for vengeance -- they will
overtake us long before we get to the rendezvous; and even did we
reach it, the chances are that we should  not find either of the
galleys there. We must hold on as long as we can, and as a last
resource must run  ashore. Unfortunately there are no large islands
on our way. Nor have we any hope of assistance from our  friends
behind. The inlet looks east, and they will know nothing of our
danger; nor, if they did, could they  help us. The galley is short
handed now, and there are the captured ships to look after, and
the captives we  rescued. We have only ourselves to depend on."

At the end of an hour's rowing the boat astern had gained little;
but the exertions of the rowers were telling  severely upon them.
They were still doing their best, but their breath came in short
gasps, the rowing was  getting short and unsteady, and there was
a sensible decrease in the speed of the boat. Three miles ahead of
them was an islet about half a mile in diameter. In some parts it
was covered with foliage, but elsewhere it  was bare rock.

"That must be our goal," Sir John said. "They will be close to
us by the time we get there." Then he said to  the rowers, "Stop
for a minute to get breath. We will land at that islet ahead, and
I shall hold to my promise  if we get there in time. Those of you
who like can remain in the boat until your countrymen come up;
those  who choose can leave the boat and hide yourselves as best
you may. I leave the choice to yourselves. If we  are overtaken
and fall, I cannot keep my promise, and it will be best then for
you to remain in the boat."

For three or four minutes the slaves bent forward over their oars;
but as soon as Sir John gave the word they  straightened themselves
up and began rowing again. The rest had done them good, and they
again fell into  a long, steady stroke.

"Shall we buckle on our armour again?" Sir Ralph Harcourt asked;
for they had not put it on when they left  the ship, as the heat
was very great.

"I think we had better don our mail shirts only. In climbing about
that rock ahead of us, the less weight we  carry the better, and
with this heat I would rather fight unprotected than in casque
and armour. Besides,  there can be little doubt that, if they come
upon us, it will be our last battle. That craft behind is crowded
with men, and, armour or no armour, it will come to the same in
the end.  If it were not that we have a  mission to fulfil, and
that it is of all things important to send the galleys to aid our
friends, I would say let  us choose a spot at the foot of the rocks
there, where they cannot attack us in the rear, and there fight it
out  as becomes knights of the Cross; but as it is our duty above
all things to carry this message, we must strive  to preserve our
lives, and must, if we can, conceal ourselves from these paynims."

"What are you going to do?" Sir John asked the slaves, when they
were within a quarter of a mile of the  islet. "I should think,
after we have left the boat, it will be best for you to sit quietly
on your benches till our  pursuers arrive."

"They would cut our throats at once, Sir Knight; they will be furious
at our having given them so long a  chase.  Hassan Ali's men care
little whom they slay, and, irritated by their misfortune, it will
be naught to  them whether we are Moslem or Christian. I, for one,
shall take to the woods, and hide."

There was a chorus of assent among the other rowers.

"I trust that you may escape," the knight said. "It is for us
they will be hunting, and if they catch and slay us  they will not
trouble to search the island further."

"It seems to me, Sir John," Gervaise said, "that with the aid of
these good fellows we may yet have a  chance of escape."

"What is your plan, Sir Gervaise?"

"I think, Sir John, that if, when we land, we climb straight up
that hill, in full sight of the shore, the pirates,  when they see
us, will follow at once. The slaves should, therefore, be safe for
a time if they hide in that  wood to the left of the spot we are
making for. Will you tell them to keep down by the water's edge
among  the bushes, and that after crossing that crest, we will try
to make a dash round, so as to join them there. 'Tis  probable that
most of the pirates will start in pursuit of us, and if we and the
slaves make a rush for the  shore we may seize our boat, push off,
and capture their craft, if there are but a few left on board,
knock out  a plank and scuttle her, and then row away."

"By St. George, your plan is a good one, Tresham!  A right good
scheme, and we will try it."

He at once translated what Gervaise had said to the rowers, by whom
it was received with short  exclamations of approval, for they were
too breathless and exhausted for talk. Already they could hear the
yells of the pirates, who, as the boat ran up on the beach were
but a quarter of a mile behind.

"Now, away for that wood!" Sir John cried, as he leapt ashore.
"Now, comrades, for a climb up the hill!"

It was a steep ascent, and more than once one had to be helped up
by the others, and then in turn to assist  them to get up beside him.
Louder and louder rose the shouts of the pirates, but the knights
did not glance  back until they reached the top of the hill; then
they turned and looked round. A swarm of men were  climbing after
them, and were already halfway up the cliff.

"Heave them down!" Sir John exclaimed, pointing to some loose rocks,
and set the example by lifting a  great stone and hurling it over
the edge. Harcourt and Gervaise at once did the same, and twenty
or thirty  rocks were speedily sent rolling down the steep ascent,
and yells, shouts, and cries were heard below.

"That will check them a bit. Now let us be off," Sir John Boswell
said, and they at once started. After  crossing a hundred yards
of bare rock they stood at the edge of another slope into a deep
valley, beyond  which rose the central hill of the island. The valley
ran right across, and was filled with trees extending to  the sea
at either end.  Running rapidly down, the knights were within the
shelter of the wood before the  Moslems had reached the brow behind
them. A minute later they heard the shouts of their enemies. Once
in  the wood they turned to the left, and in a few minutes stood on
the sea shore. It was a little bay some two  hundred yards across,
and at either point the cliffs rose abruptly from the water.

"We shall have to swim round the point," Sir John said.

"Take off your mail shirts. We will make our way along the rocks
as far as we can, and then drop them into  the sea, otherwise they
will know that we have taken to the water."

They hurried along the rocks, and were able to make their way to
within fifty yards of the point; then,  throwing their mail shirts
into the sea, they plunged in. All knew the importance of getting
round before  any of the pirates, who would be searching the
valley, came down on the shore, and they swam their  hardest until
they rounded the corner.  The wood rang with the shouts of their
pursuers, but no yell had  risen from the water's edge. A hundred
yards farther, and they were able to land, and were in a short time
in  the shelter of the trees that fringed the water to the point
where they had left the boat. There was no longer  any occasion
for speed, and they made their way through the thick bushes
and undergrowth quietly, until  they recovered breath after their
exertions. They had gone a few hundreds yards when from the bushes
the  slaves suddenly rose up.

"All has gone well," Sir John said to them in their own language.
"The pirates are searching for us on the  other side of the hill.
There are not likely to be many of them left here. We shall soon
be in possession of  our boat again."

Followed by the slaves, they made their way forward until they
stood at the edge of the wood. Five or six  pirates were standing
on the shore.

"I expect they have been left there," Harcourt said, "to prevent
the slaves from carrying off the boat. They  must have seen them
run into the wood. They won't reckon on our being with them."

Drawing their swords, the three knights rushed out, followed by
the slaves. They had but a hundred yards to  run. The pirates, on
seeing them, raised a yell and drew their scimitars; but the sight
of the knights rushing  upon them, when they had expected but a
few unarmed rowers, was too much for their courage, and when  their
assailants were still fifty yards away they turned and fled. The
fishing craft had been run ashore but a  few yards from their boat.

"Get her afloat, Harcourt, and bring her to the stern of the
fisherman. Now, Tresham, follow me."

Sir John Boswell climbed up on to the fishing boat, which was
a craft of some fifteen tons burden. She was  entirely deserted,
but the sail still hung from the yard, and a fire was burning on
a stone hearth, raised on  some logs of wood in the centre of the
deck.

"Look for something to stave in a plank, Tresham."

Gervaise leapt down into the hold. There were some nets and spare
sails lying there, but nothing that would  answer the purpose. He
examined the planks. The boat was very strongly and roughly built.

"There is nothing here, Sir John, that will do, and nothing short of
a heavy sledge hammer would suffice to  smash one of these planks."

"There are a lot of them coming down the hill, Tresham. We have not
many minutes to spare, but we must  disable the craft. They will
soon be after us again; they have run her hard and fast here, but
when they all  come back they will soon get her off. Let us try
one of these sweeps."

He lifted one of the heavy oars, and holding it upright he and
Gervaise together tried to drive the handle  through the bottom.
Again and again they raised it and drove it down; but the plank
was too strong, and too  securely fastened to the timbers.

"We must give it up," the knight said, with a sigh.  "Fortune has
befriended us so far, Tresham, but she has  deserted us at last.
Another three minutes, and we shall have thirty or forty of them
upon us."

At this moment the lad's eye fell upon the fire.

"We shall manage yet," he exclaimed, and, seizing a blazing brand,
he jumped below and set fire to the  sails stowed there; they were
as dry as tinder, and the flame shot up at once.

"That is good, Tresham," the knight said; "but they will put it
out before it has caught the boat."

"Not before it has burnt the sails," Gervaise replied.  "Now for
this one," and he applied the brand to the  lower edge of the great
sail. Without a word Sir John seized another brand, and fired the
sail on the other  side of the deck. The flames flashed up, and a
wild yell of rage and alarm broke from the pirates, who were  now
rushing down towards the beach.

"Now to the boat, Tresham; we have no time to lose if we would
avoid being pounded with stones."

They dropped over the stern into the boat. The galley slaves dipped
their oars into the water, and she shot  away just as the foremost
of the pirates reached the edge of the water. A few stones were
thrown; but the  pirates were so anxious about the craft, by which
alone they could escape from the island, that the majority  at once
climbed on board.

At a word from the knight, the slaves stopped rowing a hundred
yards from the shore. The sail was already  consumed, and the yard
and the upper part of the mast were in flames. A dense smoke was
rising from the  hold, and the pirates were throwing buckets of
water down into it.  In a few minutes the smoke decreased.

"I thought that they would be able to put it out; but, as far as
we are concerned, it matters little. They have  lost their sails,
and as I saw but four sweeps, we can travel five miles to their
one. If we find the galleys we  will look in here on our way back,
and if they have not left we will fire that craft more effectually,
and then  the pirates will be trapped, and we can leave them till
we have fetched off Sir Louis and his prizes, and then  have a grand
hunt here. We took no prisoners before, and a hundred slaves will
be a useful addition to our  wall builders. Now, Tresham, I have to
thank you warmly, for Harcourt and I doubly owe our lives to you.
It was thanks to your quickness of wit that we regained our boat,
for I would not have given a ducat for our  chances had you not
thought of that scheme. In the second place, we should assuredly
have been overtaken  again had it not been for your happy thought
of crippling them by burning their sails. By St. George,  Harcourt,
this young countryman of ours is as quick and as ready of wit as
he has shown himself a brave  and gallant fighter! We have no lack
of sturdy fighters; but the wit to devise and to seize upon the
right  thing in the moment of danger is vastly more rare. As for
myself, I have no shame that this lad, who is  young enough to be
my son, should have thus, twice in a single hour, pointed out the
way to safety. With  sword and battleaxe I can, I trust, hold my
own with any man; but my brain is dull when it comes to  hatching
schemes. If we live, we shall see Sir Gervaise one of the most
distinguished knights of the Order."

"While I feel gratified indeed, as I may well be by your commendation,
Sir John, I must, under your favour,  say that you have given me
a far greater degree of credit than is my due. There was the fire,
and there was  the sail, and the thought that the one would destroy
the other was simply a natural one, which might have  occurred to
a child. As to the plan about the boat, seeing that there was the
hill and the wood, it flashed  upon me at once that we might make
a circuit and come back to her."

"Just so, lad; but those thoughts did not flash upon my mind, nor
upon that of Harcourt. It is just because  those sort of ideas do
flash upon the minds of some men, and not of others, that the first
rise to the rank of  distinguished commanders, while the others
remain simple knights who would play their part in a charge or  in
the defence of a breach, but would be of no account as leaders.

"Now row along steadily, men," he went on, speaking to the slaves.
"We are still in good time, for it was  not an hour from the moment
we touched the island to our departure from it, and much of that
time we have  gained by the speed with which you rowed before. At
any rate, we shall make out the island before sunset,  and whether
we arrive there a little sooner or later matters little. Harcourt,
hand me that wineskin and a  goblet. A draught will do us good
after our climb and swim, and these good fellows will be none the
worse  for a cup also."

Inspired with the hope of freedom, the slaves rowed steadily, and
the sun had just set when they entered a  little inlet in the rocky
isle that was their place of rendezvous.

"Thanks be to the saints!" Sir John exclaimed, as they reached the
entrance. "There is Santoval's galley."

There was a stir on board the galley as the boat was seen approaching.
The knights had put on their armour,  which they had found still
lying in the boat, the pirates, in their haste to pursue, having
left her unexamined,  while those who had remained on guard had
abstained from touching anything until the return of their  captain
and comrades.

"Whence come you, Sir John, and what is the news?  No misfortune has
befallen Ricord's galley, I hope?"  the Spanish knight in command
shouted, as the boat came near enough for him to recognize the
features of  its occupants.

"All is well," Sir John shouted back; "but we have taken more
prizes than we can manage, though not  without hard fighting. Seven
knights have fallen, and at least ten others will not be able to
buckle their  armour on again for some time to come, so I have been
sent here to beg your assistance; and it is well that it  should
be given speedily, for if more pirate vessels come up before you
join, Ricord and his companions  will be in a sorry plight."

By this time the boat had reached the side of the galley, and
as Sir John and his two companions stepped on  board, the knights
crowded round to hear the details of the news.  Exclamations of
approval and satisfaction  arose when Sir John related the incidents
of the fight, and told them that the four vessels that had fallen
into  their hands formed part of Hassan Ali's fleet.

"That is good news indeed, Boswell," Don Santoval said; "and I would
I had been there to take part in so  gallant a fight. It is well
you found us here, for with four prizes on hand, and with half his
strength dead or  disabled, Ricord must be in sore need of aid.
We will start tomorrow morning at daybreak. As all the ships  were
taken, there is little fear of any of the other pirates hearing
news of what has happened."

"I don't know," Sir John replied. "There were, as I told you, some
two hundred pirates left on the island.   About half those, we
know, seized a fishing boat and escaped, for they chased us, and
we have had as  narrow an escape from death as has ever fallen to
my lot, though I have been in over a score of hard fought  battles.
The rest may well have taken another fishing boat and made off
also, for we saw several craft along  the shores of the island. If
so, they may have made for Hassan Ali's rendezvous, wherever that
may be, just  as I made here, and by this time some of his ships
may be on the way there."

"By St. Anthony, this alters the situation gravely!" Don Santoval
said. "Fellow knights, we must lose no  time in going to Ricord's
assistance. The slaves have had a long row today, but they must
start on another.  Let them have a good meal to strengthen them,
and a cup of wine each. Whatever their scruples at other  times,
they never refuse wine when there is heavy work to be done, knowing
full well that a draught of it  helps them mightily in their labours.
Your men must have rowed well, Sir John, to have brought you here
so quickly?"

"I have promised them their freedom," Sir John said; "and they shall
have it, even if I have to pay their  value into the treasury. As I
told you, we were hotly pursued, for the craft with her sail went
faster than we  with our oars; and, knowing the importance of
bringing the news here, I encouraged them by promising  them their
freedom, should we get away. Not only did they row right manfully,
but they proved faithful in  our extremity, and, when all seemed
lost, stuck to us instead of deserting and joining the pirates."

"But how did you get away, Sir John, if their craft outsailed you?"

"I owe my life entirely to the quick wit of my young countryman,
Sir Gervaise Tresham here." And Sir  John then related the incidents
of their adventure on the island, his narrative eliciting warm
expressions of  approval from the knights.

"Of course, you will go with us, Boswell?" Don Santoval said, when
the master of the slaves announced  that these had eaten their
meal, and were ready.

"I must do so," Sir John replied. "I want you, on your way, to
look in at that island where we had so narrow  an escape, and if
we find their craft still there we can destroy it.  The place is
directly in our course; we  shall, therefore, lose but little time
in looking in. Of course, they may have gone as soon as they got
their  vessel afloat, but it is hardly likely. They would have no
idea of my returning with a galley so soon, and  will probably set
to to make a dozen more oars before they start, for she had but
four on board, which will  scarce suffice to send her a mile an
hour through the water. Therefore, I fancy they will not put off
until  tomorrow morning. If that is so, and we destroy their craft,
they will be trapped in the islet, and on our  return we can capture
them all. I think of leaving Harcourt and Tresham in the boat, in
order that when  Piccolomini's galley comes in, they may direct
him also to join us."

"He may be in at any moment; we met him three days since. He had
captured a pirate, and sent her off  under charge of ten of his
knights. We agreed to meet him this evening; and as he is not here,
he will  probably be in the first thing in the morning."

Gervaise and Harcourt took their places in the boat again. The galley
got up its anchor and started. Just as  she reached the mouth of
the inlet another galley rounded the point and nearly ran into her.

"I am going to Ricord's assistance, Piccolomini," Don Santoval
shouted.

"Is it urgent?" the commander of the galley shouted back.  "We have
had a very long row, and can go no  farther, unless his strait is
a very sore one."

"No. Come on in the morning. You will hear all the news from
a boat lying two hundred yards astern. Two  young English knights
are waiting in her to give you the news. Ricord has made a fine
capture. Row on,  men." And the galley proceeded on her way, while
the newcomer proceeded up the harbour.

Harcourt and Gervaise at once went on board, and the former gave the
Italian commander an account of the  battle that had taken place,
and the capture of the four pirate vessels. After the exclamations
of satisfaction  by the knights had ceased, he recounted their own
adventures, which were heard with lively interest.

"I hope indeed that Santoval will burn that fishing boat, and that
we shall capture the pirates," the  commander said.  "We have need
of more slaves to carry out the works at Rhodes. Now, let us to
supper,  gentlemen, and then to sleep. In six hours we will be off
again, for if some more of these villains have  escaped and carried
the news to Hassan Ali, our swords may be sorely needed by Ricord
and Santoval  tomorrow."



CHAPTER VI KNIGHTED


At three in the morning all on board the galley were astir. A ration
of bread and meat was served out to the  slaves, and the boat was
soon afterwards under way. The rowers of the English knight's boat
had been  warmly commended by the commander and placed in charge
of the overseer, with instructions that they  were to be treated as
free men. As soon as the galley slaves set to work, however, they
seated themselves  on the benches and double banked some of the
oars, anxious to please the knights. With the exception of  those
whose turn it was to be on watch, most of the knights slept until
daybreak.

"At the rate we are rowing, Gervaise," Harcourt said, as they went
up on to the poop together, "it will not  take us very long to join
our friends. We are going through the water at fully six miles an
hour; and as we  have already been two hours under way, in another
three we shall be there."

An hour and a half later they passed the island where they had
landed. The two young knights pointed out  to the others the valley
into which they had descended, and the point round which they had
swum. In a few  minutes they caught sight of the landing place.

"Look, Gervaise, there is something black showing just above the
water."

"I see it. I think it is a line of timbers. There were certainly
no rocks there when we ran ashore."

"Then Santoval must have found the craft still there and burnt
her," one of the knights standing by  remarked, "and the pirates
are caged up. It will take them some time to make a raft that will
carry them to  the next island, and before they can do that we shall
be back again. I shall be sorry if they escape, for they  are as
ruthless a set of villains as sail the seas."

The galley had traversed half the remaining distance when the sound
of a gun was faintly heard. For a  moment there was an absolute
hush on the poop; then three or four shots in rapid succession were
heard.

"Some more pirate ships must have come up," the commander exclaimed.
Then he shouted down to the  slaves, "Row, men -- row for your lives!
Overseer, do not spare your lash if any hang back from their  work."

The galley had been travelling fast before, but her speed greatly
increased as the slaves rowed their hardest.  Fast as she was
travelling, the impatience of the knights was extreme.  They walked
up and down the deck,  making vows of candles that should be burnt
at the shrine of St. John if they arrived in time to take a share
in the fight, stopping at times to listen to the sound of artillery,
which was now so frequent as to show that a  severe engagement was
being fought. Many of the younger knights ran down to the waist
and double  banked the oars, and in a shorter time than it seemed
possible the galley arrived at the mouth of the bay.

A desperate fight was going on. Ricord's ship lay, idle and deserted,
at anchor. Five pirate crafts surrounded  Santoval's galley. Two
of them were alongside of her; the others were raking her fore and
aft with their  shot. The young knights left the oars, sprang up
to the poop and joined in the shout of encouragement  raised by the
others, and then, resuming their helmets and armour, stood ready to
leap on board an enemy  as soon as they reached her.  Piccolomini
directed the helmsman to lay him alongside one of the ships  grappling
with Santoval. As they came up, their galley's cannon poured their
fire into her, and a moment  later the knights sprang on board.

In the din of battle their shout had been unheard. The pirates thronging
the other side of their ship were  intent only on overcoming the
resistance of the knights, and even the discharge of cannon had not
called  their attention to their foe, until the latter, shouting
the war cry of the Order, fell suddenly upon them. A  panic at
once seized them.  Some were cut down almost unresistingly, but
the great majority, running to the  bow or stern, threw themselves
overboard and swam to the other ships. The pirate ship on the
other side of  Santoval's galley instantly threw off the grapnels
and thrust off from her side, and, immediately hauling in  the
sheets of the big sail, began at once to draw away, while her three
consorts made for the mouth of the  bay.

"Back to your galley, comrades," Piccolomini shouted, "or with this
brisk wind they will escape us."

The knights at once crossed on to their own craft, the oars were
got out, and the chase began. A minute or  two later Don Santoval
followed them, but soon gave up, as so large a number of the oars
had been broken  when the two pirate ships ran alongside him,
that it would have been hopeless to pursue. The wind was  blowing
freshly, and was rapidly increasing in strength, so that, in spite
of the efforts of the galley slaves,  the pirates gradually drew
away, running straight before the wind, and aiding the effects
of the sails with  oars. Seeing the hopelessness of the chase,
Piccolomini abandoned it, after rowing for two miles, and  returned
to the island. The other two galleys were lying beside each other,
and Piccolomini had his craft  steered alongside them.

"Thanks, Piccolomini, for arriving so opportunely," Santoval, who
was seated on the deck leaning against  the bulwarks, said, as his
fellow commander leapt on board, and came towards him.

"Would that I had arrived sooner, Santoval, for I see that you have
been grievously wounded!"

"Ay. One of the paynims' cannonballs has carried off both my legs
below the knee. The leech has been  searing the wounds with a hot
iron, and says that he thinks I shall get over it; but if so I fear
that my  fighting days are past, unless, indeed, I fight seated on
a chair. However, I ought not to grumble. I have lost  many brave
comrades, and others are wounded more sorely than I am."

Sir Louis Ricord now joined them. He embraced Piccolomini warmly.

"I never heard a more welcome shout, Piccolomini, than that which
you gave when you fell upon the  Moslems, for in truth the issue
of the conflict was doubtful. I was delighted when this morning at
daybreak  Santoval's galley rowed in. We had all kept watch during
the night, thinking the pirates might obtain boats  and make an
attack upon us; and, with but twenty of us fit to wield a sword,
our position would have been a  bad one, and at any rate they
might have recaptured the prizes. We agreed that Santoval and his
knights  should land at once. This they did. Sir John Boswell had
of course told me how his boat had been chased by  a fishing craft,
manned by a large number of the pirates, and that he feared the
rest might similarly have  escaped, and might have gone to bring
some more of Hassan Ali's ships upon us.

"As soon as Santoval landed, some of the natives came down and told
him that there was not a pirate  remaining there, the rest having
started in another boat a few minutes after the one that had chased
Boswell.  Santoval left two of his men with orders to ascend to the
highest spot on the island, and to keep watch, and  then brought
the rest off to his galley. Our first step was, of course, to send
all the women and children  ashore. Then we consulted as to what had
best be done if the pirates should come back in force.  We hoped,
at any rate, that this would not happen until you arrived. We
expected that you would be here before noon;  but we decided that,
should they get here before you, we from our galley would embark
on Santoval's, as it  was better to fight in one strongly manned
boat than to divide our forces.

"It was scarce half an hour after Santoval came down before the
men left on the lookout appeared on the  beach.  On fetching them
off, they told us that as soon as they reached the top of the hill
they saw five  vessels approaching with sails and oars, and that
they would be here in half an hour at the outside. We at  once
abandoned my galley, brought the rowers and the wounded here, and
prepared for the fight. As you  saw, they ran their two biggest
ships alongside us, and for two hours the fight went on. They
were crowded  with men, who in vain strove to get a footing on our
decks. Had we only had these two to deal with, we  should have had
nothing to fear, heavily manned though they were; but the other
three kept sailing  backwards and forwards, discharging their guns
into us as they passed, firing not only shot, but bags of  bullets.

"Their gunners were skilful, and, as you see, they have completely
riddled our poop. Twenty knights have  been killed, and eleven
others are sorely wounded. Scarce one has escaped unscathed. You may
guess,  then, how welcome was your aid, which we had not expected
for another three hours. We were on the point  of abandoning the
waist and gathering on the poop, which we could still have defended
for a considerable  time, when, as if dropped from the skies, you
fell upon the pirates, and turned the tables. How is it that you
were here so early?"

"We started at three o'clock, instead of waiting for daybreak.
It seemed, from the story of the two young  knights, that it was
possible you might be attacked early, and, crippled as your command
was, and with  four prizes on your hands, I deemed it best to come
on as soon as the rowers had had a few hours' rest."

"It is well that you did so; it would have been a grievous affair
had two of our galleys been captured by the  pirates.  It would have
been a blow to the prestige of the Order, and would have brought
such strength to  Hassan Ali and other pirate leaders that nothing
short of sending out a fleet would have recovered our  ascendancy;
and as every ducat we can spare has to be spent on the fortifications,
it would have been a  misfortune indeed had we been obliged to fit
out such an expedition at present."

"Who have fallen, Sir Louis?"

"Five more of the knights of my galley -- Pierre des Vignes, Raoul
de Montpelier, Ernest Schmidt,  Raymond Garcia, and Albert Schenck.
Here is the list of the knights of Santoval's galley."

"'Tis a long list, and a sad one," Piccolomini said, after reading
the names. "With the seven who fell in your  first fight, twenty-seven
knights have fallen, all brave comrades.  Truly, we can ill spare
such a loss. It is  true there are five prizes to show for it,
and we have struck Hassan Ali a blow that will resound through the
Levant; but the cost is heavy."

"It is indeed," Ricord agreed. "The four vessels are well filled
with rich spoil that the scoundrels had  gathered, and I doubt
not the one you captured is equally rich. Still, had they been ten
times as valuable, the  booty would be dearly purchased at such a
price."

There was now a consultation among the leaders, and it was agreed
that six knights should be placed in  each of the captured ships,
with ten of the galley slaves to work the sails, the others being
equally divided  between the three galleys. They were, in the first
place, to row to the island where the pirates were  imprisoned,
and to slay or capture the whole of them; afterwards they were to
make direct for Rhodes; with  so numerous a fleet there was no fear
of their being attacked. The arrangements took but a short time
to  complete. An hour later they left the port, the three galleys
rowing ahead, while the five prizes, under easy  sail, followed
them.

Sir John Boswell had been wounded, but not so seriously as to
altogether disable him, and he was in  command of one of the prizes,
having Sir Adam Tedbond, Harcourt, Gervaise, and a German knight,
with  him. Sir Marmaduke Lumley, who, after the first fight was
over, was found, to the surprise and pleasure of  his comrades, to
be still living, was, with the rest of the wounded, on board one
of the galleys. Two of the  pirates had fallen dead across him,
and in the ardour of their attack on the knights, he had lain there
unnoticed until the return of Sir Louis and his comrades had driven
the pirates overboard. The leech was of  opinion that he might yet
recover from his wound.

On arriving at the island, sixty of the knights disembarked. The
woods near the shore were first searched,  but were found untenanted.
They were about to advance up the hill when a man appeared on the
crest  above them waving a white flag. He was told to come down,
and on his arrival said that he was sent by his  companions to offer
to surrender, on the promise that their lives should be spared.
The knights were well  pleased to be saved the trouble of a long
search through the woods, and the messenger left at once to  acquaint
the pirates that their terms were accepted.  In a short time some
eighty men made their way down  the hill. On reaching the beach they
were disarmed, divided equally between the galleys, and distributed
among the rowers, filling up the places of those who had been
killed by the fire of the Moslems, and of the  men drafted into
the prizes. They begged for food and water before they began work,
and, on being  questioned, admitted that their surrender was due
principally to the fact that they had been unable to find  food
of any sort on the island, and that after searching all over it no
spring of water could be discovered.

"In that case," Sir John Boswell said, "I have no doubt they have
all surrendered. I before thought it  probable that a good many
of them would have remained hidden, trusting to be able to make a
raft after we  had left, and so get away, believing rightly enough
that we should be disinclined to search every foot of the  island
for them. As it is, I doubt not, all are here."

The little fleet anchored that night at the rendezvous, and after
two more days' rowing reached Rhodes,  where the appearance of
the three galleys, followed by their five prizes, was greeted with
great  acclamation. The news, however, that twenty-seven knights
had fallen, and that thirteen or fourteen others  were very gravely
wounded, damped the satisfaction that every one had at first felt.
D'Aubusson came  down as soon as they reached the mole, and was
greatly affected when he received Ricord's report.

"It is an unfortunate loss indeed, Sir Louis," he said, "though
it may be that the victory is not too dearly  purchased. I do not
speak of the captured ships, nor of the spoil they contain, nor
even of the slaves you  have brought us, welcome though all may
be, but of the effect that the defeat and capture of these craft
of  Hassan Ali's will have. It is plain that the preparations the
sultan is making, and the belief that Rhodes is  doomed, have so
encouraged the infidels that they are becoming really formidable
at sea. This blow will  show them that the Order has yet power to
sweep the sea of pirates. Since, however, this adventure has  taught
us that a single leader like Hassan sails with at least nine ships
under his orders, it is clear that in  future our galleys must not
adventure singly among the islands. It was fortunate indeed that
first Santoval,  and then Piccolomini, arrived to your assistance.
How was it that they happened to come up so  opportunely?"

"Sir John Boswell, with Ralph Harcourt and Gervaise Tresham; went
in a boat to the rendezvous we had  arranged, and reached it after
an adventure, which I will leave Sir John to tell himself. I may
say that the  two young knights named had in our encounter both
obtained very high credit amongst us all for the valour  with which
they fought. No one bore himself more stoutly, and I am glad to
take this early opportunity of  bringing their conduct before your
notice. As you will learn from Sir John, Gervaise Tresham afterwards
showed a quickness of wit that was the means of saving the lives
of those with him, and I may say also of  all with me, for had they
failed to reach the rendezvous we should have fallen easy victims
to the five ships  Hassan Ali brought against us."

Sending for Sir John Boswell, the grand prior heard from him the
details of his adventure in the boat.

"I am right glad to hear you speak so warmly of Tresham, Sir John,
for I regard him as my special protege,  and am pleased indeed to
find that at this outset of his career he has proved himself not
only a brave knight,  but full of resource, and quick at invention.
I think, Sir John, that these two young knights have shown  themselves
well worthy of receiving the honour of secular knighthood."

"Assuredly they have," Sir John agreed.

"Then, Sir John, will you bestow it upon them? The Order, as an
Order, does not bestow the honour, but its  members do not forfeit
their right as knights to bestow it individually, and none among
us are more worthy  of admitting them to your rank than yourself."

"I would gladly do it, Sir Peter; but the honour would come far
better from yourself, and would not only be  more highly prized by
them, but would be of greater value in the eyes of others. I am but
a simple knight  commander of the Order, and my name would scarce
be known beyond its ranks. But to be knighted by one  whose name
is known and honoured throughout Europe would give them a standing
wherever they went,  and place them on a level with the best."

"If that is your opinion, Boswell, I will myself undertake it, and
will do it at once; it were better done here  than at a conclave
of the Order -- now, when they are fresh from the battle. Let the
knights be summoned  from the other galleys at once."

In a few minutes the whole of the knights were assembled on the
poop of the galley.

"Friends, and brother knights," D'Aubusson said.  "First, in
the name of the Order, I have to thank you all  most heartily for
the brave deeds that you have performed, and for the fresh honour
you have won for it.  Every man has, as I learn from the three
commanders, borne himself as a true and valiant knight, ready to
give his life in the cause of the Order and of humanity. Two names
have been specially brought before me  by commander Ricord, and
by the good knight Sir John Boswell; they are those of two young
companions  who, though knights of our Order, have not yet received
secular knighthood, and this, in the opinion of  these two knights,
they have right worthily won. Sir Ralph Harcourt and Sir Gervaise
Tresham, step  forward."

The two young knights, colouring with pleasure at this unexpected
honour, removed their helmets, and  stood with bowed heads before
the grand prior. D'Aubusson went on, turning to the knights around
him, "I  am about, comrades, to undertake the office of knighting
them. Sir Louis Ricord and Sir John Boswell  stand as their sponsors.
But before I proceed I would ask you all whether you, too, approve,
and hold that  Sir Ralph Harcourt and Sir Gervaise Tresham have
proved themselves worthy of the honour of secular  knighthood at
my hands?"

There was a general reply in the affirmative, the answer of the
survivors of Ricord's crew being specially  emphatic.  The grand
prior drew his sword, and the two young knights knelt before him,
their sponsors  standing beside them.

"Sir Ralph Harcourt, you have now been four years a knight of this
Order, but hitherto you have had no  opportunity of drawing sword
against the infidels. Now that the chance has come, you have proved
yourself  a true and valiant brother of the Order, and well worthy
of the secular accolade. It is in that capacity that I  now knight
you. It is not the grand prior of Auvergne, but Sir Peter D'Aubusson,
of the grand cross of St.  Louis, who now bestows upon you the honour
of secular knighthood." He touched him lightly with the  sword. He
then turned to Gervaise.

"You, Sir Gervaise Tresham, are young indeed to receive the honour
of secular knighthood; but valour is of  no age, and in the opinion
of your commanders, and in that of your comrades, you have proved
yourself  worthy of the honour. You have shown too, that, as Sir
John Boswell has related to me, you are not only  brave in action,
but able, in the moment of danger, to plan and to execute. You
were, he tells me, the means  of saving his life and that of your
comrade, and, by thus enabling him to bear to the place of rendezvous
the  news of Sir Louis's danger, were also the means of saving the
lives of Sir Louis and his companions, and of  bringing home in
safety the prizes he had taken. With such a beginning it is easy
to foresee that you will  win for yourself some day a distinguished
position in the ranks of the Order, and are most worthy of the
honour I now bestow upon you." And he touched him with his sword.

The two young knights rose to their feet, bowed deeply to D'Aubusson,
and then retired, with their  sponsors. They were at once surrounded
by the knights, who shook them by the hand, and warmly  congratulated
them upon the honour that had befallen them, receiving equally warm
congratulations on  their arrival at the auberge of the langue.

The five prizes turned out, when their cargoes were landed, to
be much more valuable than the cursory  examination made by the
knights had warranted them in expecting. They contained, indeed,
an  accumulation of the most valuable contents of the prizes taken
by the pirates for a long time previously;  and as these desperadoes
preyed upon Turkish commerce as well as Christian, the goods
consisted largely  of Eastern manufactures of all kinds.  Costly
robes, delicate embroidery, superb carpets, shawls,  goldsmiths'
work, and no small amount of jewels, were among the spoil collected,
and the bulk of the  merchandise captured was, two days later,
despatched in galleys to Genoa and Marseilles, to be sold for the
benefit of the Order.

D'Aubusson without hesitation carried out Sir John Boswell's
promise to the slaves who had rowed his  boat.  They were not only
set at liberty, but were each presented with a sum of money, and
were placed on  board a galley, and landed on the mainland.

The English knights were all proud of the honour that had been won
by their young countrymen, the only  exception being Robert Rivers,
who was devoured with jealousy at their advancement. He did not
openly  display his feelings, for the reports not only of Sir John
Boswell, but of the other two English knights, were  so strong that
he dared not express his discontent. He himself had twice been
engaged with pirates, but had  gained no particular credit, and
indeed had, in the opinion of his comrades, been somewhat slack
in the  fray. He was no favourite in the auberge, though he spared
no pains to ingratiate himself with the senior  knights, and had
a short time before been very severely reprimanded by the bailiff
for striking one of the  servants.

"I have more than once had to reprove you for your manners to the
servants," the bailiff said. "You will  now be punished by the
septaine; you will fast for seven days, on Wednesday and Friday
you will receive  bread and water only, and will be confined to
the auberge for that period. The next time that I have reason  to
complain of you, I shall bring the matter before the grand master,
and represent to him that it were best  to send you home, since you
cannot comport yourself to the servants of the auberge as befits a
knight of the  Order. We have always borne the reputation of being
specially kind to our servants, and it is intolerable that  one,
who has been but a short time only a professed knight, should behave
with a hauteur and insolence that  not even the oldest among us
would permit himself. There is not one of the servants here who
was not in  his own country of a rank and station equal, if not
superior, to your own; and though misfortune has fallen  upon them,
they are to be pitied rather than condemned for it. In future,
you are to give no order whatever  to the servants, nor to address
them, save when at meals you require anything. If you have any
complaints  to make of their conduct to you, you will make them to
me, and I will inquire into the matter; and if I find  they have
failed in their duty they will be punished. I shall keep my eye upon
you in the future. There are  other faults that I have observed in
you. More than once I have heard you address Sir Gervaise Tresham
in  a manner which, were not duelling forbidden by our rules, might
bring about bloodshed; and from what I  have seen when I have been
watching the exercises, he is as much your superior in arms as he
is in manner  and disposition."

This reproof had greatly subdued Robert Rivers; and as he felt that
any display of his jealousy of Gervaise  would be resented by the
other knights, and might result in serious consequences to himself,
he abstained  from any exhibition of it when they returned to
the auberge, although he could not bring himself to join in  the
congratulations offered to them. The next day, however, when he
was talking to Ralph Harcourt, he  remarked, "From what I hear,
Harcourt, D'Aubusson praised young Tresham very highly. It seems to
me  that there was nothing at all out of the way in what he did,
and it was very unfair that he should be selected  for higher praise
than yourself."

"It was not unfair at all," Ralph said warmly, for he was of a generous
nature, and incapable of the base  feeling of envy. "Tresham did
a great deal more than I did. When we saw the pirate boat gaining
so fast  upon us, it seemed to Sir John Boswell, as well as to
myself, that there was scarce a chance of escape, and  that all we
could do was to choose a spot on which to make a stand, and then
to sell our lives as dearly as  we could. I could see that Sir
John was scanning the hill for a spot where we could best defend
ourselves.   As to hiding on so small an island, with a hundred men
eager for our blood searching for us, it was well  nigh impossible.
It was Tresham's suggestion alone that saved our lives and enabled
us to fetch succour to  Sir Louis. Sir John, who is an old and
tried soldier, said that for quickness and merit of conception,
the  oldest knight in the Order could not have done better; and he
is not one to praise unduly. I am four years  older than Gervaise
Tresham, but I tell you that were he named tomorrow commander of
a galley, I would  willingly serve under him."

"Well, well, you need not be angry, Harcourt, I have nothing to
say against Tresham. No doubt he had a  happy thought, which turned
out well; but I cannot see that there was anything wonderful in
it, and it  seemed to me unfair that one who is a mere boy should
receive higher praise than yourself, who, as I heard  Sir John and
Sir Adam Tedbond say last night at the refectory, bore yourself
right gallantly."

"I did my best," Ralph said shortly; "but there was small credit
in that when we were fighting for our lives.  The most cowardly
beast will fight under such circumstances. When you see a Moslem
rushing at you,  scimitar in hand, and know that if you do not cut
him down he will cut you down, you naturally strike as  hard and
as quickly as you can. You have never liked Gervaise, Rivers. I
am sure I don't know why, but  you always speak in a contemptuous
sort of tone about him. True, it does him no harm, but it certainly
does  you no good. For what reason should you feel a contempt for
him? Although so much younger, he is a  better swordsman and a
better rider than you are. He is liked by every one in the auberge,
which is more  than can be said of yourself; he is always good
tempered, and is quiet and unassuming. What on earth do  you always
set yourself against him for?"

"I do not know that I do set myself against him," Rivers said
sullenly. "I own to having no great liking for  him, which is
natural enough, seeing that his father was a Lancastrian, while
we are Yorkists; but it is not  pleasant to see so much made of a
boy, merely because D'Aubusson has favoured him."

"I am certain," Harcourt said hotly, "that such an idea has never
occurred to any one but yourself. Sir Peter  is a great man and will
soon be our grand master, but at present he is but grand prior of
the langue of  Auvergne, and whether he favours Tresham or not is
a matter that concerns none of us. Gervaise is liked by  us for
his own good qualities.  He bears himself, as a young knight should
do, respectfully towards his  seniors, and is ever ready to do a
service to any one. No one has ever seen him out of temper; he is
always  kind and considerate to the servants, and when in command
of parties of slaves at the public works never  says a harsh word
to them, but treats them as if they were human beings, and not
brute beasts. Besides,  though he is more skilful than any of us
with his sword, or indeed at any of the military exercises, he is
unassuming, and has no particle of pride or arrogance. It is for
all these things that he is liked, and the  friendship of D'Aubusson
has naught whatever to do with it. It is not only D'Aubusson who has
prophesied  that he will rise to a distinguished rank in the Order.
Boswell and Ricord both said the same, and I for one  thoroughly
believe it. Is there one among us under the age of twenty -- and I
might go farther -- who has  already won such credit for himself?
One who when but sixteen can make his mark in an Order like ours
is  certain to rise to high office, and you and I may, before many
years are over, be proud to serve under him."

"That I will never do," Rivers said fiercely. "I would rather go
and bury myself for life in the smallest  commandery in England."

"That may be," Harcourt retorted, his temper also roused, "But
possibly you might prefer that to fighting  under any other leader."

"That is a reflection on my courage, Sir Ralph Harcourt, I shall
lay this matter before the bailiff."

"You can do as you like," Harcourt said disdainfully, "But I don't
think you will benefit by your pains."

When his temper cooled down Rivers acknowledged to himself the truth
of what Harcourt said. He was not  in the favour of the bailiff,
while both Harcourt and Tresham stood at the present moment high
in his  estimation. Any complaint would lead to an inquiry into the
matter that had led to the former's words, and  even if Harcourt
were reprimanded for using them, he himself would assuredly not
gain in the estimation of  the knights. Harcourt himself thought no
more of the matter, though he laughingly told Gervaise that Rivers
was by no means gratified at their both attaining the honour of
secular knighthood, which virtually placed  them over his head.

"He is not a nice fellow," Gervaise said. "But naturally it must
be galling to him, and to a good many others  who have not yet had
the chance of distinguishing themselves.  I think it is very good
of them that they are  all so kind and cordial. Of course it is
otherwise with you, who are as old as most of the other professed
knights serving here; but with me it is quite different, and as
Rivers, somehow, has never been very friendly  with me, of course
it is doubly galling to him. I hope he will soon get an opportunity
of winning his spurs  too."

"That is just like you, Tresham. If I were in your place, I should
have no good wishes for a fellow who has  never lost an opportunity
of annoying me, and that without the smallest cause of offence on
my part."

"I am sure you would not wish him ill, Harcourt. You would make
allowance for him just as I do, and feel  that if he had had the same
opportunities he would have obtained the same credit and honours."



CHAPTER VII A FIRST COMMAND


The first news that the knights heard on their return from their
expedition was that the Grand Master Orsini  was seriously ill,
and that, at his advanced age, the doctors feared there was little
hope of his rallying.   Gervaise felt a keen regret on hearing
that the kind and gentle old man, who had been for three years his
master, was at the point of death. Nevertheless, it was generally
felt among the knights that, in view of the  dangers that threatened
Rhodes, it was for the good of the Order that a strong and capable
man, whom all  respected, and who possessed their entire confidence,
should at such a time be invested with absolute  power.

D'Aubusson had, indeed, for some years been the real head of the
community, but every question had, if  only as a matter of form,
to be referred to the grand master, in order to obtain his approval
and signature. In  the state of feebleness to which he had for
some months past fallen, much time was frequently lost before  he
could be made to understand the questions referred to him.
Moreover, orders of D'Aubusson could be  appealed against, his views
thwarted, and his authority questioned; and it was therefore felt
that, much as  they all respected the old grand master, it would be
an advantage to the Order when the supreme authority  passed into
the hands of D'Aubusson.

Four days after the return of the expedition Orsini died.  A few hours
later the grand council was convened,  and D'Aubusson unanimously
elected grand master of the Order. The ceremony of the funeral of
his  predecessor was an imposing one. Every knight of the Order in
Rhodes was present, together with a  number of the leading natives
of the Island; and although Gervaise had, since his arrival on the
Island, seen  many stately ceremonies, this far surpassed anything
he had previously beheld.

Gervaise had, at one of his first interviews with D'Aubusson after
his arrival at the Island, been advised by  him to acquire some
knowledge of Turkish.

"There are but few knights of the Order who speak the language," he
said. "As a rule, while young men are  ready to devote any amount
of time to acquiring dexterity in all martial exercises, they will
bestow no  labour in obtaining knowledge that may be fully as useful
to them as skill in arms. In our dealings with the  Turks, one or
other party has to employ an interpreter, and it is often by no means
certain that these men  convey the full meaning of the speeches
they translate. Again, we have large numbers of Turkish slaves,  and
it is highly to be desired that the knights should be able to give
their orders to these men in their own  language. Lastly, a knight
who has been taken prisoner by the Turks -- and even the bravest
might meet  with such a misfortune -- would find it an alleviation
of his lot, and might be able to plan and carry out his  escape,
did he speak Turkish well. I should strongly counsel you to acquire
a knowledge of the tongue."

Gervaise had intended to follow the advice of the grand prior, but
the duties of his office as page, and the  time required for his
military exercises and his studies with the chaplain, had rendered
it well nigh  impossible, during the first three years, to turn
his attention to learning Turkish.  As soon as his pageship  was
at an end, and he found that his duties included supervision of
Turkish slaves, he felt the want of a  knowledge of the language,
and from that time devoted an hour a day to its study, employing
one of the  servants of the auberge, who was a man of rank and
education at home, to instruct him.

While he conscientiously spent this amount of time at the work,
it was the most disagreeable portion of this  day's labour. The
events, however, that had taken place during the expedition had
impressed him greatly  with the utility of a knowledge of Turkish,
for had it not been for Sir John Boswell's possessing some
acquaintance with the language, it would have been impossible to
communicate with the rowers of their  boat, or to have arranged the
plan by which they had escaped the pirates. He had then and there
determined  that as soon as he returned to Rhodes he would take the
matter up in a very different spirit to that in which  he before
approached it. He had on the way home spoken to Sir John, who had
highly approved of the  determination.

"I myself, when I was a young knight of eighteen, was taken captive,
twenty-six years ago, at the time  when the Egyptian fleet appeared
before Rhodes. Our galleys advanced to attack them, but under
cover of  night they retired, and proceeding to the mainland took
shelter under the guns of a Turkish fort. We  attacked them there;
it was a desperate engagement, but without any decisive advantage
on either side. We  lost no less than sixty knights, the Egyptians
seven hundred men; and their fleet returned to Egypt. I and  three
others who were left wounded on the deck of one of their ships we
had boarded, but failed to capture,  were carried to Egypt, and
remained there captive for six months, when we were ransomed by
the Order.

"During that time I learnt enough of their language, which is akin
to Turkish, to be able to make myself  understood and to understand
what was said to me. I have kept up that much for intercourse with
the slaves  and servants at Rhodes, and have found it very useful.
I consider, then, that you will do well to acquire their  tongue;
it will be useful not only to yourself, but to others, and when
we get back I will, if you like, ask the  bailiff to free you from
all duty in order that you may devote yourself to it."

The head of the langue at once granted Sir John's request.

"I would," he said, "that more of our young knights would give a
portion of their time to study; but most of  them look to returning
home when their term of service here has expired. Many think only
of amusement,  and all imagine that advancement is best achieved by
valour.  Tresham has already distinguished himself  very greatly;
so much so, that I think it would be well if he did not go on
another expedition for a time, but  stayed here while others have
the opportunity of doing the same. Were we to send him out with
the next  galleys that start, I should be accused of favouritism,
and the lad, who is now deservedly popular with all,  would be
regarded with envy, and possibly even with dislike.

"At the same time, after what he has done I should have difficulty
in refusing, were he to volunteer to sail  in the next galley that
sets out. The desire, then, on his part to learn Turkish is in all
ways opportune. It will,  too, in the long run be of great advantage
to him in the Order, will give him weight, and bring him into
prominence. I do not think there are six in the Order who can
fairly translate a Turkish document; there are  but two who could
write a reply in the same language. Inform him, then, that from the
present time he will  be excused from all work, except, of course,
to join in ceremonials when all are required to be present; and
if you, Sir John, will pick out from among the servitors here one
who is well instructed and educated, and  capable of writing as
well as reading his language, I will similarly relieve him of all
other work, and place  him at the disposal of young Tresham. Tell
the lad that I hope he will persevere until he obtains a complete
knowledge of the tongue. You can mention to him what I have said
as to my opinion of the advantage the  knowledge of it will be to
him in the Order."

Gervaise accordingly devoted himself to study. His instructor was
a Turk of fine presence. He had been a  large landowner in Syria,
and held a high official position in the province, but had been
captured in a galley  on his way to Constantinople, whither he was
proceeding on an official mission. He was delighted with his  new
post. Gervaise, both as the youngest member of the community, and
from the kind manner in which he  always spoke to the servants,
-- all of whom had acquired some knowledge of English, -- was a
general  favourite among them, and the Turk was glad that he was
to be thrown with him. Still more he rejoiced at  being appointed
his instructor, as it relieved him from all menial work which,
although preferable to that to  which the bulk of the slaves were
condemned, yet galled his spirit infinitely.

Now that he had entered upon the work with the approbation of his
superior, and a conviction of its great  utility, Gervaise set
to work with the same zeal and ardour which he had exhibited in
his military exercises.  During the heat of the day he sat in the
shade reading and writing with his instructor. In the cool of the
morning and afternoon he walked with him on the walls, or in the
country beyond them. After sunset he sat  with him in an unfrequented
corner of the roof, all the time conversing with him, either of
his own country,  or that of his instructor.

At first this was difficult, and he had to eke out the Turkish
words he had acquired with English; but it was  not long before
there was no necessity for this. His intercourse for ten or twelve
hours a day with this Turk,  and the pains taken by his instructor,
caused him to acquire the language with extreme rapidity. Of course,
he had to put up with a great deal of banter from the younger
knights upon his passion for study.  Sometimes they pretended that
his mania, as they considered it, arose from the fact that he was
determined  to become a renegade, and was fitting himself for a
high position in the Turkish army. At other times they  insisted
that his intention was to become a Turkish dervish, or to win a
great Turkish heiress and settle in  Syria.  But as he always bore
their banter good temperedly, and was ready occasionally to join
them in the  sport when assaults-at-arms were carried on, they soon
became tired of making fun of him.

After nine months' constant work, the young knight's studies were
abruptly stopped by the receipt of a letter  from the Pasha of Syria,
offering a considerable sum for the ransom of his instructor. The
request was at  once acceded to, as it was the policy of the knights
to accept ransoms for their prisoners, both because the  sums
so gained were useful, and because they were themselves compelled
sometimes to pay ransom for  members of the Order. Suleiman Ali
was, it was arranged, to be put on board an Egyptian craft bound
for  Acre, a safe conduct having been sent for the vessel and her
crew, and for a knight, who was to receive the  ransom from the
pasha.

"At any rate, Sir Gervaise," the Turk said, when the young knight
expressed great regret at his leaving  them, "our position as
instructor and pupil would have come to an end shortly. For the
last three months  there has been but little teaching between us;
we have talked, and that has been all, save that for a short  time
each day you read and wrote. But there has been little to teach.
You speak the native language now as  fluently as I do, and would
pass anywhere as a Syrian, especially as there are slight differences
of speech in  the various provinces. I believe that in Syria you
would not be suspected of being anything but a native, and  assuredly
you would be taken for a Syrian elsewhere.  You have learnt enough,
and it would be but a waste  of time for you, a knight and a soldier,
to spend another day in study."

On the following day Gervaise was, to his surprise, sent for by the
grand master. Except on the occasion of  a few public ceremonies,
he had not seen D'Aubusson since he had been elected to his present
high dignity,  and the summons to attend at the palace therefore
came unexpectedly.

"We have become quite strangers, Tresham," the grand master said
cordially when he entered. "I have not  forgotten you, and have
several times questioned your bailiff concerning you. He tells me
that you have  become quite an anchorite, and that, save at your
meals and for an occasional bout-at-arms, you are seldom  to be
seen. I was glad to hear of your devotion to study, and thought it
better to leave you undisturbed at it.  Yesterday evening I sent
for your instructor. He is a man of influence in Syria, and I wished
to learn how  he was affected towards us, now that he is about to
return there. We talked for some time, and I then asked  him what
progress you had made, and was surprised and pleased to find that
in his opinion you could pass  anywhere as a native, and that you
were perfectly capable of drawing up and writing any document I
might  desire to send to the sultan or any of his generals. This
is far more than I had expected, and shows how  earnestly you must
have worked. Your knowledge may prove of much assistance to the
Order, and believe  me, the time you have spent in acquiring it may
prove of much greater advantage to you in your career than  if you
had occupied it in performing even the most valiant deeds, and
that at some future time it will ensure  your appointment to a
responsible office here. It was partly to assure you of my approbation
that I sent for  you, partly to inform you that I have appointed
you to proceed with Suleiman Ali as the knight in charge of  the
vessel, and to receive the ransom agreed on, upon your handing him
over. The office is an honourable  one and one of trust, and it is
the first fruits of the advantages you will gain by your knowledge
of Turkish.  No, do not thank me. I am selecting you because you
are better fitted than any knight I can spare for the  mission, and
also, I may say, because the choice will be pleasing to Suleiman
Ali, whose goodwill I am  desirous of gaining. Before now Turkish
provinces have thrown off their allegiance to the sultan. They
have, I must admit, been usually reconquered, but such might not
be always the case; and if such an event  happened in Syria, this
man's influence and goodwill might be of great advantage to us,
as it might well suit  us to ally ourselves with Syria against
Constantinople. I am glad to say that I found him at least as well
disposed as any man could be who had been some years in slavery. He
admitted that, for a slave, he had  been kindly and gently treated,
and added that any unpleasant memories he might have retained had
been  obliterated by the nine months of pleasant companionship
spent with you."

When Gervaise returned to dinner at the auberge, and informed Ralph
Harcourt and the other young knights  that he had been appointed to
take charge of the vessel in which Suleiman Ali was to be conveyed
to Acre,  the statement was at first received with incredulity. It
seemed incredible that the youngest knight in the  langue should be
chosen for such a mission, involving as it did a separate command.
Even the older  knights, when the news was passed down the table,
were surprised.

"I must say that I am astonished at the grand master's choice. Sir
Gervaise Tresham doubtless distinguished  himself greatly some months
since, but from that time he has not been out with the galleys,
or, indeed, done  anything that would seem to recommend him for so
marked a favour as a separate command."

"I don't know, Wingate," Sir John Boswell said. "It seems to me that
when a young knight of seventeen  eschews all pleasure, refrains
from volunteering for service at sea, and spends his whole time
in study, he  does distinguish himself, and that very greatly. Of
the three or four hundred young knights here I doubt if  one other
would have so acted.  Certainly, none to my knowledge have done so.
Yet I do not suppose that  D'Aubusson selected him for this duty
as a reward for so much self denial and study, but because by that
self denial and study he is more fitted for it than any of us here,
save some three or four knights in the other  langues, all of whom
are in too high a position to be employed in so unimportant a duty.
He can speak  Turkish -- not a few score of words and sentences
such as I can, but, as Suleiman Ali tells me, like a native.  Were
one of us chosen for this mission, it would be necessary to send
an interpreter with him; and every  one knows how hard it is to
do business in that manner. It seems to me that the grand master
has acted  wisely in putting aside all question of seniority, and
employing the knight who is better suited than any  other for it."

"You are right, Boswell," the bailiff said. "I really have been
astonished at the manner in which Tresham  has given himself up to
study. It would have been a natural thing had he, after gaining so
much credit, been  anxious and eager to gain more. When you spoke
to me about his determination to learn Turkish, I thought  he
would speedily tire of it, and that when the next galley sailed,
his name would be among the list of  volunteers for the service. I
am sure, comrades, that there are few, if any, among us who would
not  infinitely prefer fighting the Moslems to spending our whole
time in learning their language; and I for one  consider the fact
that he has for nine months laboured so incessantly and assiduously
that he has come, as  Boswell says, to speak it like a native, is
even more to his credit than the deed for which he was knighted."

This conversation took place at the upper end of the table, and was
not heard at the lower end where the  younger knights were seated.

"I am not chosen from favour," Gervaise said hotly, to one of his
companions who had asserted that this  was so.  "I am simply chosen
because I can speak Turkish."

"How much Turkish can you speak?" one of them laughed.  Gervaise
turned to the Turkish servant behind  them, and said, in his language,
"Hassan, Sir Giles Trevor wishes to know how well I speak Turkish.
You  have heard me talking with Suleiman Ali. Will you give him
your opinion about it?"

The man turned gravely to Sir Giles Trevor.

"My lord," he said, in English, "Sir Gervaise Tresham, he speaks
Turkish same as I do. If he dress up in  Turk clothes I suppose
him Turk, not know he Christian by his speech."

Exclamations of surprise broke from the young knights.

"Well, you have earned the appointment, Tresham," Ralph Harcourt
said heartily. "You always told me  when I asked you that you were
getting on, but I had not the least idea that you were getting on
like this.  And can you read and write the Turkish language?"

"Well enough for practical purposes, Ralph. At any rate, I wrote
a complimentary letter this morning from  the grand master to the
governor of Syria, and the bailiff of Spain, who was, as you know,
for ten years a  prisoner among the Turks, read it through at
D'Aubusson's request, to see that there was no error in it, and
was good enough to pass it without alteration."

"I would give a good deal," Sir Giles Trevor said, "if I could
follow your example, and shut myself up for  nine months with an
infidel to study his language; but I could not do it if my life
depended on it. I should  throw myself off the wall at the end of
the first fortnight."

"I don't pretend that I can do what Tresham has done," Ralph Harcourt
said. "I always hated our lessons  with the chaplain, who gave me
the character of having the thickest head of any of his pupils;
but I vow" --  and he kissed the handle of his dagger -- "I will
spend half an hour a day in trying to learn something of  Turkish.
Of course, I know that such time will not be enough to learn a
great deal; but if one could get up  just enough to be able to give
orders to the slaves, to question the captain of a vessel one has
captured, and  to make them understand a little, if by bad luck
one fell into their hands, it would be quite enough for me. I  am
sure sometimes one is quite at a loss how to pass the hours when
the sun is at its hottest, and if one tried  one ought to be able
to pick up a little without much trouble.  Look at the servants;
there is not one of them  but speaks a little English. And if an
infidel can learn enough English to get on with, without any regular
study, I can't see why we shouldn't be able to learn enough Turkish
in the same way."

Two or three of the other young knights declared that they too
would devote a short time during the heat of  the day to learning
Turkish, and they agreed to begin together forthwith with one of
the servants, who  spoke English most fluently. Robert Rivers was
not present, for he had returned to England six months  before, to
take up his residence at the House in Clerkenwell, in order that he
might bring to bear the interest  of his many powerful friends to
secure for him an appointment as commander of one of the estates of
the  Order in England. His departure had caused general satisfaction
among the other knights, whom his  arrogance and ill temper had
frequently irritated. Gervaise especially was glad at his leaving
the Island, for  after he received the honour of knighthood,
Rivers made a point of always addressing him with an  affectation
of deference and respect that often tried his temper to the utmost.

"It is well that Rivers has gone," Ralph said, laughing, "for I
don't know how he would have supported the  chagrin your appointment
would have given him. He was devoured with jealousy as it was, but
this would  have been a trial beyond bearing."

"I am heartily glad he has gone," Gervaise said gravely.  "I have
put up with a great deal from him, but I  don't think I could have
stood much more. If our vows had not forbidden our fighting I should
have called  him to account long ago; but the only thing else to
do was for me to lodge a formal complaint before the  bailiff, of
his continually offensive bearing and manner, which I could not
bring myself to do, and indeed  there was no special matter that
would have seemed to justify me, no single speech that in itself
would  warrant such grave action on my part. I used to wish over and
over again that we could but meet in some  quiet spot in England,
both unarmed, and could there settle the matter in good English
fashion, with our  fists, or even with a couple of quarterstaffs."

The others laughed.

"That would be a very unknightly form of contest."

"I care not for that," Gervaise replied. "It would be a very
satisfactory one anyhow, and quite serious  enough for the occasion.
His sneers and petty insults were not sufficient to justify the
drawing of blood, and  there has been enough of that shed for the
last twenty years in England without two brother knights  betaking
themselves to their swords against each other. But a sound thrashing
would have done neither of  us harm, and if it had fallen to his
lot to get the largest share of it, it might have done him some
good."

"He thinks he is sure of an appointment," one of the others said,
"but he has been so frequently in trouble  here that it is likely
that the official report, which is always sent home to the grand
prior when the knights  return to England, will be so unfavourable
that even the most powerful influence will fail to obtain him a
post. If so, we may have him back here again, especially if the
Turks carry out their threat of assailing us,  for an appeal will
be made to all the grand priors for knights to aid in the defence."

That evening Gervaise went again to the palace to receive final
instructions.

"The craft in which you are to travel is an Egyptian trader. As
at present war has not been formally declared  between us and the
sultan, peaceful traders, as you know, carry on their avocations
unmolested either by  the warships of the Turks or by ours; they
do not enter our ports without a special permit, and the crews
are  never allowed to land, in order that no detailed account of
our fortifications may be taken to the sultan.  Moreover, brawls
might arise between them and the native population, or they might
aid slaves to escape.  However, you will be altogether safe from
interference from Turkish war vessels, and if overhauled by one  of
them the safe conduct will be sufficient to prevent interference
with you. But it is not so with pirates.  They will plunder their
own countrymen as readily as they will Christians, and the safe
guard of the  governor of Syria will be of no use whatever to you.
In this consists the danger of your mission. I cannot  send one
of our war galleys on such an errand, and if there are not enough
knights on board to beat off any  pirate, the fewer there are the
better. I hear that the craft is a fast sailor, and as the crew
will be as anxious  to avoid pirates as you, they will do their
best to escape. I leave it to you to take any route. You can either
sail hence direct for Acre, or you can coast along the shores of
Anatolia and Syria, lying up at night in bays.

"Should you be overtaken I do not think it would be of any use
for you to disguise yourself, for some of the  crew would be sure
to denounce you. Should the worst happen, and you are captured
by pirates, you will of  course in the first place show them your
safe conduct, and if I find that you do not return I shall send at
once to the governor of Syria, complaining of your capture when
furnished with his safeguard, and  requesting him to order a search
for you to be made at every port on the coast, with instructions
that you are  to be at once released, and either sent to him for
return hither, or placed on board a craft bound for any  Christian
port; while you, on your part, will endeavour to acquaint the
Turkish authorities with the fact that  you have been seized while
travelling with a safe conduct from the governor of Syria.

"But, more than from any efforts on your part or mine, I rely upon
Suleiman Ali, who will, I am sure, as  soon as he is set on shore,
lose no time in acquainting the pasha of your capture, and in
calling upon him to  interfere in your favour. In that case, the
worst that could befall you would be a temporary detention,  unless,
indeed, the pirates should take you to Egypt. As that country is
friendly with us at present, since  Egypt dreads the ever increasing
power of the Turks, it will be but a question of ransom, for I
have secret  agents there who will inform me without delay of the
arrival of a Christian captive."

"I understand, sir, and will do my best in the matter. If I am
captured I trust that an opportunity of escape  will soon present
itself, for I should, if taken, conceal from my captors the fact
that I understand their  language, and should thus, if I could
evade my guard, have every chance of escaping, as in a native dress
I  could meet and converse with those hunting for me, without their
having a suspicion of my being the white  slave for whom they were
in search."

"Once at Acre you will be safe. But do not land unless it is absolutely
necessary, for you might fall a victim  to the fanaticism of its
inhabitants, and no knight has ever set foot on shore there since
the ill fated day  when the Moslems wrested it from us, bathed the
ruined walls with the best blood of our Order and the  Templars', and
destroyed the last hope of our ever recovering the Holy Sepulchre."

The next morning at daybreak Gervaise and Suleiman Ali went on
board the Egyptian trader, and sailed for  Acre.  The current of
opinion had changed at the auberge when the knights came to think over
the mission  on which Gervaise was about to start, and the slight
feeling of jealousy with which the younger knights had  received
the news was entirely dissipated. While it did not seem to them
that there was any chance of his  distinguishing himself, they
perceived, as they thought it over, the considerable danger there
was of capture  by pirates, and Ralph and some of his companions
came down to the mole to see him off, with feelings in  which envy
bore no part whatever.

"I see now, Gervaise, that it is truly no holiday excursion on
which you are starting. I should envy you  greatly were you going
in command of an armed galley, prepared to beat off any craft that
might try to  overhaul you; but, going alone as you are, it is a
very different thing.  Should pirates meet you, you could  offer
no resistance, and your position would be a perilous one indeed.
However, I think you are born to  good luck, and am confident that
your patron saint will look after you, and therefore expect to see
you back  here in a fortnight's time at the outside."

"I hope so with all my heart, Ralph. It will be no fault of mine
if I tarry."

"Will you keep the open sea, or skirt the land, Tresham?" one of
the others asked.

"I shall keep the open sea. The grand master left me to choose my
course; but I think there is more danger  by the coast -- where
pirates may be hiding in unfrequented bays, in readiness to pounce
upon a passing  craft -- than in the open sea, where we should have
at least the advantage that we could not be taken by  surprise, and
might make a race of it. But the sun will be up in a few minutes,
and my orders were to set out  at sunrise, so I must say goodbye
at once."

As soon as the vessel was under way, Gervaise took a seat on the poop
by the side of Suleiman Ali, and  related to him the conversation
he had had with the grand master.

"The risk that you will run has not escaped me," the Turk said, "and
indeed, I now regret that you were  chosen as my escort. I almost
wish that my son had not purchased my freedom at the present time,
since it  involves the risk of you losing yours. There is no doubt
that the sea swarms with pirates; the sultan is too  busy with
his own struggles for Empire to bestow any attention upon so small
a matter.  The pashas and the  officers of the ports have not the
power, even had they the will, to put down piracy in their districts,
and  indeed are, as often as not, participators in the spoils.  Your
Order, which, years back, scoured the seas so  hotly that piracy
well nigh ceased, have now for forty years been obliged to turn
their attention chiefly to  their own defence.  They possess a
comparatively small fleet of galleys, and their wealth is expended
on  their fortress.

"What with Egypt and the sultan their hands are too full for them
to act as the police of the sea, and the  consequence is that
from every port, bay, and inlet, pirate craft set out -- some mere
rowboats, some, like  those under the command of Hassan Ali, veritable
fleets. Thus the humblest coasters and the largest  merchant craft
go alike in fear of them, and I would that the sultan and Egypt and
your Order would for two  or three years put aside their differences,
and confine their efforts to sweeping the seas of these pests, to
storming their strongholds, and to inflicting such punishment upon
them as that, for a very long time to  come, peaceful merchants
might carry on their trade without fear.

"I heard you tell the captain that he was to steer straight for
Acre, and I think you are right in avoiding the  coast, where the
most harmless looking fishing boat may carry a crowd of pirates
hidden in her hold. At the  same time, if you will take my advice
you will head much more to the south, so as to be out of the regular
track of ships making from Constantinople or the islands to Acre.
You may meet pirates anywhere, but they  are assuredly thicker along
the more frequented routes. The safest plan of all would probably
be to bear  south, and strike the Egyptian coast well to the east
of the mouth of the Nile. Thence, till you get to  Palestine, the
country is utterly barren and uninhabited, while, running up the
coast to Palestine, there are,  save at Jaffa, no ports to speak
of until you arrive at Acre; and besides, the inhabitants there,
even if pirates,  would not venture to disregard the pasha's safe
conduct. I do not by any means say that such a course would  be
absolutely safe. You may meet with vessels on your way south, and
doubtless some of them cruise off  the barren coast I speak of,
to intercept traders to and from Egypt and Acre, and other Syrian
ports; for the  trade carried on is considerable, and, although of
the same religion, the Turks are disposed to view the  Egyptians as
enemies rather than as friends, and would have even less hesitation
in plundering them than in  robbing their own countrymen."

"I think that your suggestion is a good one, and will follow
it, at any rate. The course is a good deal longer,  but that is
comparatively of little moment. The great thing is to carry you
safely to Acre."

"And to get back with equal safety," Suleiman said, with a smile.

"That is quite as important in my eyes; in fact, of the two, I
would far rather that we were captured on our  voyage thither, for
in that case I might be able to arrange for the ransom of both of
us."



CHAPTER VIII AN EVENING AT RHODES


Suleiman Ali's advice was carried out. It added considerably to
the length of the voyage; but they saw only  one doubtful craft.
She was lying close inshore under the shadow of the sand hills, and
they did not see her  until she hoisted her sails and shot out from
the land.  They were, however, three miles distant from the  land
at the time, and the wind was blowing from the north; consequently
the pirate was dead to leeward.  Every sail was set at once on board
the trader, and, being a fast sailor, she maintained her position
until  nightfall. The wind then dropped, and just as the light
faded they could see that the vessel behind them had  put out her
sweeps. The trader kept up her sails until certain that she could
be no longer seen; then the  canvas was lowered, and the crew took
to the boats and towed her due north.

The night was fortunately a dark one, and those watching anxiously
from the deck of the trader were unable  to discern her pursuer
as she passed behind them. As soon as they were well assured that
she must have  gone on, the boats were got in, the sails hoisted
again, and, taking advantage of every light flaw of wind,  they
proceeded on their course. In the morning the sails of the galley
could be seen on the horizon, but the  distance was too great for
her to take up the pursuit again with any chance of success, and
the trader  continued her course to Acre without seeing more of
her.

As soon as the trader entered the port, the Egyptian captain went
on shore, taking with him a copy of the  safe conduct and the letter
from the grand master to the pasha.  Going to the residence of the
governor, he  handed these to him, saying that he had on board Aga
Suleiman Ali, and a knight who was charged to  deliver him up on
payment of the ransom.

"I have been expecting you," the governor said. "I have received
a letter from the pasha, stating that he had  written to the grand
master respecting the ransom of the aga, and sending me the amount
which Suleiman's  son had offered.  The young man was not of age
when his father was captured, but he is so now, and was  therefore
able to raise the sum required. I will go down to the port with you
myself, hand over the ransom,  and welcome Suleiman, whom I know
well, back from his captivity."

The transfer was speedily made; a heavy purse was handed to Gervaise,
and Suleiman was a free man.

"Send me word, if you can, when you return to Rhodes," the latter
said, as he bade farewell to the young  knight. "I shall be anxious
until I hear. Fortune was with us as we sailed hither, but it may
desert you on  your return.  Should aught befall you, tell your
captors that if they bring you to me I will pay any ransom  that
they could, in fairness, require. Should they refuse to do this,
send, if possible, a messenger to me, and  on receipt of your
message I will send a trusty man to purchase your freedom. You have
treated me as a  friend and an equal, and a friend I shall always
remain."

The vessel was to remain four days in port, to discharge her cargo
and take in another, and Suleiman had  talked of remaining at Acre
until she sailed, but Gervaise protested strongly against this.

"You have your family, from whom you have been so long separated,
awaiting your return with anxiety,  and I pray you to make no
stay on my account. I am well content to remain on board here, and
to look at  the city which has so often been the theatre of great
deeds -- which Richard the Lion Heart captured, and  which so many
of the Hospitallers died to defend. I was charged by the grand
master not to land, and  indeed I feel myself that it would be an
act of folly to do so. There are doubtless many on shore who have
relatives and friends now working as slaves among us, and some of
these might well seek to avenge them  by slaying one of the Order.
I feel your kindness, but it would be a pain to me to know that
you were  lingering here on my account, when you must be longing
to embrace your children."

The four days passed rapidly. Gervaise had, at the suggestion of
the governor, laid aside the mantle and  insignia of the Order.

"If you do not do so," he said, "I must place a strong guard of
soldiers on board, in order to ensure that the  pasha's safeguard
is not violated. Sailors are a turbulent race, and were you recognised
here they might  make a tumult, and slay you before a word of what
was going on reached me. In any case I shall place two  soldiers
on board until you leave the port."

On the morning of the fifth day the sails were got up, and the
vessel sailed out from the port. Fortune again  favoured them, and
they reached Rhodes without any adventure. Gervaise went at once
to the palace, and  handed over the purse of gold to the treasurer.
He then sent up his name to the grand master, and was  immediately
conducted to his room.

"I am glad to see you back, Tresham. I have been uneasy about you.
Have you fulfilled your mission  without adventure?"

"Without any adventure, sir, save that we were once chased by
a pirate on our way east, but escaped in the  darkness. Save for
that, the voyage has been wholly uneventful. I have received the
ransom, and handed the  purse to your treasurer."

"I am glad that your first command has turned out so well. I will
see that you do not lack employment; and  the fact that you are able
to act as interpreter will ensure you a welcome on any galley. At
present,  however, it is not my intention to send out many cruisers.
Every life now is precious, and no amount of  spoil that can be
brought in will counter balance the loss of those who fall. However,
I may find some  mission on which you can be employed. I know that
you love an active life; and as, for nine months, you  have put a
rein on your inclinations, and have devoted yourself wholly to study,
so that you might be of  greater use to the Order, you have a good
right to any employment in which your knowledge can be  utilised."

On his arrival at the auberge, Gervaise was very heartily greeted
by the younger knights.

"I told you you were born lucky, Gervaise," Ralph Harcourt said.
"There has been more than one wager  made that you would be captured;
but I, for my part, was confident that your good fortune would not
desert  you. Still, though not surprised, we are delighted to see
you again. Now tell us about your voyage."

Gervaise gave a brief account of the adventure with the pirate,
and then described the visit of the governor  to the ship.

"Did he say anything to you?"

"He was courteous and solemn; just the sort of man you would fancy
a Turkish governor should be. He  looked a little surprised when I
accosted him in Turkish, but asked no questions at the time, though
I  daresay he inquired afterwards of Suleiman how I came to speak
the language.  The only time he actually  said anything was when
he requested that I would not wear the mantle of the Order while in
port, as sailors  were a turbulent race, and it might lead to an
attack upon me; and as he was responsible to the pasha that  his safe
conduct should be respected, it would be necessary, if I declined
to follow his advice, to keep a  strong body of soldiers on board.
As this would have been a horrible nuisance, especially as I wanted
to  enjoy in quiet the view of the city, with its castle and walls,
I acceded at once to his request, which seemed  to me a reasonable
one.  He did send two soldiers on board, but they remained down in
the waist, and did  not interfere with my pleasure in any way."

"Next to Jerusalem, how I should like to see Acre!" Ralph Harcourt
exclaimed. "It is, of all other cities, the  most closely connected
with our Order. We helped to win it, and we were the last to defend
it. We have  heard so much about the fortress, and it has been so
often described to me, that I know the situation of  every bastion
-- at least, as it was when we left it, though I know not what
changes the Turks may since  have made."

"That I know not, Ralph. Of course, I only saw the seafront, and it
was upon the land side that the attack  was made. We know that the
breaches were all repaired long ago, and it is said that the place
is stronger  than ever. From the port all was solid and massive. It
is indeed a grand and stately fortress. Here we have  done all that
was possible to make Rhodes impregnable, but nature did nothing for
us; there nature has done  everything, and the castle looks as if
it could defy the assaults of an army, however large. And indeed,
it  was not wrested from us by force. The knights, when the city
walls were stormed and the town filled with  their foes fought
their way down to the water's edge and embarked there, for they
were reduced to a mere  handful; and however strong a castle may
be, it needs hands to defend it. Still, it well nigh moved me to
tears to see the Turkish banner waving over it, and to think how
many tens of thousands of Christian  soldiers had died in the effort
to retain the holy places, and had died in vain."

"I wonder whether the Turks will ever be forced to relinquish their
hold of the holy places?"

"Who can tell, Sir Giles?" the bailiff, who had come up to the group
unobserved, said quietly. "Certainly  not in our time -- not until
the Moslem power, which threatens not only us, but all Europe, has
crumbled to  dust. So long as Acre remains in their power there is
no hope. I say not but that by a mighty effort of all  Christendom,
Palestine might be wrested from the infidels, as it was wrested
before; but the past shows us  that while men or nations can be
stirred to enthusiasm for a time, the fire does not last long, and
once again  the faithful few would be overwhelmed by the odds that
would be brought against them, while Europe  looked on impassive,
if not indifferent. No, knights; the utmost that can be hoped for,
is that the tide of  Moslem invasion westward may be stayed. At
present we are the bulwark, and as long as the standard of  our
Order waves over Rhodes so long is Europe safe by sea. But I foresee
that this cannot last: the strongest  defences, the stoutest hearts,
and the bravest of hearts, cannot in the long run prevail against
overpowering  numbers. As at Acre, we may repel assault after
assault, we may cause army after army to betake  themselves again
to their ships; but, as a rock is overwhelmed by the rising tide,
so must Rhodes succumb  at last, if left by Europe to bear alone
the brunt of Moslem invasion. All that men can do we shall do. As
long as it is possible to resist, we shall resist. When further
resistance becomes impossible, we shall, I trust,  act as we did
before.

"We were driven from Palestine, only to fortify ourselves at Rhodes.
If we are driven from Rhodes, we  shall, I feel assured, find a
home elsewhere, and again commence our labours. The nearer we are
to Europe  the more hope there is that Christendom will aid us,
for they will more generally understand that our defeat  would mean
the laying open of the shores of the Mediterranean, from Turkey
to Gibraltar, to the invasion  of the Moslems. However, comrades,
this is all in the future. Our share is but in the present, and
I trust the  flag of the Order will float over Rhodes as long,
at least, as the lifetime of the youngest of us, and that we  may
bequeath the duty of upholding the Cross untarnished to those who
come after us; and we can then  leave the issue in God's hands."

All listened respectfully to the words of their leader, although
his opinion fell like cold water upon the fiery  zeal and high
hopes of his hearers. The possibility of their losing Rhodes had
never once entered into the  minds of the majority of them. It was
likely that ere long they might be called upon to stand a siege,
but,  acquainted as they were with the strength of the place --
its deep and seemingly impassable moat, its  massive walls, and
protecting towers and bastions -- it had seemed to them that Rhodes
was capable of  withstanding all assaults, however numerous the
foe, however oft repeated the invasion. The bailiff was, as  all
knew, a man of dauntless courage, of wide experience and great
judgment, and that he should believe  that Rhodes would, although
not in their time, inevitably fall, brought home to them for the
first time the  fact that their fortress was but an outpost of
Europe, and one placed so distant from it that Christendom, in  the
hour of peril, might be unable to furnish them with aid.  As the
bailiff walked away, there was silence  for a short time, and then
Sir Giles Trevor said cheerfully, "Well, if it lasts our time we
need not trouble our  heads as to what will take place afterwards.
As the bailiff says, our duty is with the present, and as we all
mean to drive the Turks back when they come, I do not see that there
is any occasion for us to take it to  heart, even if it be fated
that the Moslems shall one day walk over our tombs. If Christendom
chooses to be  supine, let Christendom suffer, say I. At any rate,
I am not going to weep for what may take place after I  am turned
into dust."

"That sounds all very well, Sir Giles," Ralph Harcourt said, "and
I have no argument to advance against it,  though I am sure there
is much to be said; but if the bailiff, or the chaplain, or indeed
any of the elders, had  heard you say so, I have no doubt you would
have had a fitting reply."

Sir Giles tossed his head mockingly. "I shall fight neither better
nor worse, friend Harcourt, because it may  be that someday the
Moslems are, as the bailiff seems to think, destined to lord it
here. I have only  promised and vowed to do my best against the
Moslems, and that vow only holds good as long as I am in  the flesh;
beyond that I have no concern. But what are we staying here for,
wasting our time? It is the hour  for those of us who are going,
to be starting for the ball given by Signor Succhi; as he is one
of the richest  merchants in the town, it will be a gay one, and
there is no lack of fair faces in Rhodes. It is a grievous pity
that our elders all set their will against even the younger members
of the community joining in a dance. It  was not one of the things
I swore to give up. However, here in Rhodes there is no flying in
the face of  rules."

Three or four of the other young knights were also going.

"What are you thinking of doing, Gervaise?" Harcourt asked.

"I have nothing particular to do, Ralph, except that, first of all,
I must write a letter to Suleiman Ali and  hand it to the bailiff,
praying him to send it off by the first vessel that may put in here
on her way to Acre.  If I do not do it now it may be neglected,
and I promised to write directly I got here. I will not be half an
hour, and after that I shall be ready to do anything you like."

In less than that time, indeed, he rejoined Ralph. "Now what shall
we do with ourselves? What do you say  to a stroll through the
streets? I am never tired of that."

"I like better to go by way of the roofs, Gervaise. The streets
are badly lit, and although they are busy  enough in some quarters,
they are so narrow that one gets jostled and pushed. On the terraces
everything is  quiet. You have plenty of light and music, and it is
pleasant to see families sitting together and enjoying  themselves;
and if one is disposed for a cup of wine or of cool sherbet, they
are delighted to give it, for they  all are pleased when one of us
joins a group.  I have quite a number of acquaintances I have made
in this  way while you have been working away at your Turkish."

"Very well," Gervaise said. "If such is your fancy, Ralph, let us
take one of the paths across the roofs. I  might walk there twenty
years by myself without making an acquaintance, and I do not pledge
myself to  join in these intimacies of yours. However, I shall be
quite content to amuse myself by looking on at the  scene in general,
while you are paying your visits and drinking your sherbet."

"There are plenty of fair girls among the Rhodians," Ralph said,
with a smile; "and though we are pledged  to celibacy we are in no
way bound to abstain from admiration."

Gervaise laughed.

"Admire as much as you like, Ralph, but do not expect me to do so.
I have scarcely as much as spoken to a  woman since I entered the
House in London, and I should have no idea what to say to a young
girl."

"But it is part of the education of a true knight to be courteous
to women. It is one of the great duties of  chivalry.  And you must
remember that we are secular knights, as well knights of the Order."

"The work of the Order is quite sufficient for me at present, Ralph.
In time I may come to like the society  of women, to admire their
beauty, and possibly even to wear the colour of some one, for that
seems to be  the fashion; though why we, who are bound to celibacy,
should admire one woman more than another I  cannot understand."

They had by this time descended from the castle, and were taking
their way along one of the broad paths  that led over the flat roofs
of the houses by means of the bridges thrown across the streets.

"These are some acquaintances of mine," Ralph said, stopping at
one of the walls, some three feet high, that  bordered the path.

Beyond was an enclosure of some fifty feet square.  Clumps of shrubs
and flowers, surrounded by  stonework some eight or ten inches
high enclosing the earth in which they grew, were scattered here
and  there. Lamps were hung to cords stretched above it, while
others were arranged among the flowers. In the  centre a large carpet
was spread, and on this some eight or ten persons were seated on
cushions. A girl was  playing a lute, and another singing to her
accompaniment. She stopped abruptly when her eye fell upon the
figures of the two young knights.

"There is Sir Ralph Harcourt, father!" she exclaimed in Italian,
which was the language most used on the  Island, and spoken with
more or less fluency by all the knights, among whom it served as
a general medium  of communication. "Are you waiting to be invited
in, Sir Knight?" she went on saucily. "I thought that by  this time
you would know you were welcome."

"Your tongue runs too fast, child," her father said, as he rose and
walked across to Ralph. "You are  welcome, Sir Ralph, very welcome.
I pray you enter and join us."

"I will do so with pleasure, Signor Vrados, if you will also extend
your hospitality to my friend Sir  Gervaise Tresham."

"Most gladly," the merchant said. "I pray him to enter."

The two knights passed through the gate in the wall.  All rose to
their feet as they went up to the carpet, and  greeted Ralph with
a warmth which showed that he was a favourite. He introduced Gervaise
to them.

"I wonder that I do not know your face, Sir Knight," the merchant's
wife said. "I thought I knew all the  knights of the Order by sight,
from seeing them either at the public ceremonies, or observing them
pass in  the streets."

"For the last nine months Sir Gervaise has been an anchorite. He
has been learning Turkish, and has so  devoted himself to the study
that even I have scarce caught sight of him, save at meals. As for
walking in  the streets, it is the last thing he would think of
doing. I consider myself a good and conscientious young  knight,
but I am as nothing in that respect to my friend. I used to look
upon him as my little brother, for we  were at the House of the
Order in London together. He is four years younger than I am, and
you know four  years between boys makes an immense difference. Now
the tables are turned, and I quite look up to him."

"You will believe as much as you like, Signora, of what Sir Ralph
says," Gervaise laughed. "As you have,  he says, known him for
some time, you must by this time have learnt that his word is not
to be taken  literally."

"We learned that quite early in our acquaintance," the girl who
had first noticed them said, with an  affectation of gravity. "I
always tell him that I cannot believe anything he says, and I am
grateful to you, Sir  Knight, for having thus borne evidence to
the quickness of my perception."

By this time the servants had brought some more cushions, and on these
Ralph and Gervaise seated  themselves. Wine, sherbet, and cakes,
were then handed round. The master of the house placed Gervaise on
his right hand, as a stranger.

"You have been among our islands, Sir Gervaise? But indeed, I need
not ask that, since I know that you and  Sir Ralph were knighted
together for your valour in that affair with the ships of Hassan
Ali. We come from  Lesbos. It is now eighty years since my family
settled in Rhodes, and we have seen it grow from a small  place to
a great fortress."

"'Tis a wonderful place," Gervaise said. "I know nothing of the
fortresses of Europe, but it seems to me that  no other can well
be stronger than this -- that is, among places with no natural
advantages."

"The knights have always had an abundance of slaves," the merchant
said; "so many that they have not only  had sufficient for their
work here, but have been able to sell numbers to European potentates.
Yes, Rhodes  is wonderfully strong. That great fosse would seem
as if it could defy the efforts of an army to cross; and  yet the
past has shown that even the strongest defences, held with the
greatest bravery, can be carried by  generals with immense armies,
and careless how they sacrifice them so that they do but succeed.
Look at  Acre, for example."

"I was looking at it five days ago," Gervaise said, "and thinking
that it was beyond the might of man to  take."

"Do you mean that you were at Acre?" the merchant asked, with
surprise.

"Yes. I went there to hand over a captive who had been ransomed.
Of course I had a safe conduct, and I  was glad indeed of the
opportunity of seeing so famous a fortress."

"You were fortunate indeed, Sir Knight, and it was, if you will
pardon my saying so, singular that so young  a knight should have
been chosen. Assuredly, even the senior knights of the Order would
rejoice at the  opportunity of beholding a fortress so intimately
connected with the past history of the Order."

"It was due entirely to my being able to speak Turkish," Gervaise
said. "As my friend Sir Ralph was  mentioning, I have been studying
hard, and can now speak the language fluently; and as this was a
necessity on such a mission, and the few knights who can so speak
it are all in high office, and could hardly  be asked to undertake
so unimportant a service, I was selected."

"And you really speak Turkish well? It is an accomplishment that
few, save Greeks subject to Turkey,  possess. Do you intend, may
I ask, to make Rhodes your home? I ask because I suppose you would
not  have taken this labour had you intended shortly to return to
England."

"Yes; I hope to remain here permanently. I know that the first step
towards promotion here is generally a  commandery at home, but I
did not enter the Order with any idea of gaining office or dignity.
I desire  simply to be a knight of the Cross, and to spend my life
in doing faithful service to the Order."

"A worthy ambition indeed, and one that, so far as my experience
goes, very few knights entertain. I see  yearly scores of young
knights depart, no small proportion of whom never place foot on
Rhodes again,  although doubtless many of them will hasten back
again as soon as the danger of an assault from the Turks  becomes
imminent.  You see, we who dwell here under the protection of
the Order naturally talk over these  things among ourselves; and
although, in the matter of fortifications, all will admit that
enormous efforts  have been made to render the town secure, it is
clear that in the matter of knights to defend them there is  very
much left to be desired. It is all very well to say that the knights
from all parts of Europe would flock  hither to defend it; but the
journey would be a long one, and would occupy much time, and they
would  probably not receive news that the Turks had sailed until
the place was already invested. Then it would be  difficult, if
not altogether impossible, for ships with reinforcements to make
their way through the Turkish  fleet, and to enter the port. To
man the walls properly would need a force five times as numerous
as that  which is now here. I recognise the valour of your knights;
they have accomplished wonders. But even they  cannot accomplish
impossibilities. For a time they could hold the walls; but as their
number became  reduced by the fire of the Turkish cannon and the
battles at the breaches, they would at last be too weak any  longer
to repel the onslaughts of foes with an almost unlimited supply of
soldiers."

"That is true enough," Gervaise admitted; "and to my mind it is
shocking that four-fifths at least of the  Order, pledged to oppose
the infidels, should be occupied with the inglorious work of looking
after the  manors and estates of the society throughout Europe,
while one-fifth, at most, are here performing the  duties to which
all are sworn. Of the revenues of the estates themselves, a mere
fraction finds its way  hither. Still, I trust that the greater
part of the knights will hasten here as soon as danger becomes
imminent,  without waiting for the news that the Turkish armament
has actually set forth."

For an hour the two young knights remained on the roof, Gervaise
talking quietly with the merchant, while  his companion laughed
and chatted with the ladies and friends of their host. After they
had left, with the  promise that it would not be long before they
repeated their visit, Ralph bantered Gervaise on preferring the
society of the merchant to that of his daughters.

"I found him a pleasant and very well informed man, Ralph, and
enjoyed my talk with him just as you  enjoyed talking nonsense to
his daughters and listening to their songs. Who was the man sitting
next to the  eldest daughter?"

"He doesn't belong to Rhodes, but is a Greek from one of the
islands, though I did not catch from which. I  don't know whether
he is a relative of the family, or a business connection of the
merchant's, or a stranger  who has brought a letter of introduction
to him. Nothing was said on that head; why do you ask?"

"I don't like the man's face; he is a handsome fellow, but has a
crafty expression. He did not say much, but  it seemed to me that
at times, when he appeared to be sitting carelessly sipping his
sherbet, he was really  trying to listen to what Vrados was saying
to me. He could not do so, for we were on the other side of the
circle, and were speaking in somewhat low tones, while the rest of
you were chatting and laughing."

"What should he want to listen for, most sapient knight?"

"That I can't tell, Ralph; but I am certain that he was trying to
listen."

"Well, as you were no doubt both talking more sensibly than most
of us," Ralph laughed, "he certainly  showed his discernment."

"I daresay I am wrong," Gervaise said quietly; "but you know
we have our spies at Constantinople, and  probably the sultan has
his spies here; and the idea occurred to me that perhaps this man
might be one of  them."

"Well, I am bound to say, Gervaise," Ralph said, a little irritably,
"I have never heard so grave an  accusation brought on such
insufficient evidence -- or rather, as far as I can see, without a
shadow of  evidence of any kind. We drop in upon a man who is one
of our most respected merchants, whose family  has been established
here many years, whose interests must be the same as those of
the Order; and because  a guest of his does not care to take any
active part in my joking with the girls, and because you imagine
that  there is a cunning expression on his face, you must straightway
take it into your head that he must be a  spy."

"Excuse me, Ralph, I simply said that the idea occurred to me that
he might be a spy, which is a very  different thing to my accusing
him of being one. I am ready to admit that the chances are infinitely
greater  that he is an honest trader or a relation of the merchant,
and that his presence here is perfectly legitimate  and natural,
than that he should be a spy. Still, there is a chance, if it
be but one out of a thousand, that he  may be the latter. I don't
think that I am at all of a suspicious nature, but I really should
like to learn a little  about this man. I do not mean that I am
going to try to do so. It would be an unworthy action to pry into
another's business, when it is no concern of one's own. Still, I
should like to know why he is here."

Ralph shrugged his shoulders.

"This comes of living the life of a hermit, Gervaise.  Other people
meet and talk, and enjoy what society  there is in the city, without
troubling their heads for a moment as to where people come from or
what their  business is here, still less whether they are spies.
Such ideas do not so much as occur to them, and I must  say that I
think the sooner you fall into the ways of other people the better."

"There is no harm done," Gervaise said composedly.  "I am not thinking
of asking our bailiff to order him  to be arrested on suspicion.
I only remarked that I did not like the man's face, nor the way
in which, while  he pretended to be thinking of nothing, he was
trying to overhear what we were saying. I am quite willing  to admit
that I have made a mistake, not in devoting myself to Turkish, but
in going to the merchant's with  you this evening. I have had no
experience whatever of what you call society, and, so far from it
giving me  pleasure to talk to strangers, especially to women, it
seems to me that such talk is annoying to me, at any  rate at present.
When I get to your age, possibly my ideas may change. I don't for
a moment wish to judge  you or others; you apparently enjoy it,
and it is a distraction from our serious work. I say simply that
it is an  amusement which I do not understand. You must remember
that I entered the Order in consequence of a  solemn vow of my
dead father, that I regard the profession we make as a very serious
one, and that my  present intention is to devote my life entirely
to the Order and to an active fulfilment of its vows."

"That is all right, Gervaise," Ralph said good temperedly. "Only
I think it would be a pity if you were to  turn out a fanatic.
Jerusalem and Palestine are lost, and you admit that there is
really very little chance of  our ever regaining them. Our duties,
therefore, are changed, and we are now an army of knights, pledged
to  war against the infidels, in the same way as knights and nobles
at home are ever ready to engage in a war  with France. The vow
of poverty is long since obsolete. Many of our chief officials are
men of great  wealth, and indeed, a grand master, or the bailiff
of a langue, is expected to spend, and does spend, a sum  vastly
exceeding his allowance from the Order. The great body of knights
are equally lax as to some of  their other vows, and carry this to
a length that, as you know, has caused grave scandal. But I see not
that it  is in any way incumbent on us to give up all the pleasures
of life. We are a military Order, and are all ready  to fight
in defence of Rhodes, as in bygone days we were ready to fight in
defence of the Holy Sepulchre.  Kings and great nobles have endowed
us with a large number of estates, in order to maintain us as
an army  against Islam; and as such we do our duty. But to affect
asceticism is out of date and ridiculous."

"I have certainly no wish to be an ascetic, Ralph. I should have
no objection to hold estates, if I had them to  hold. But I think
that at present, with the great danger hanging over us, it would
be better if, in the first  place, we were all to spend less time
in idleness or amusement, and to devote all our energies to the
cause. I  mean not only by fighting when the time comes for fighting,
but by endeavouring in every way to ward off  danger."

"When I see danger, I will do my best to ward it off, Gervaise; but
I cannot go about with my nose in the  air, snuffing danger like
a hunting dog in pursuit of game. At any rate, I will not bother
you to accompany  me on my visits in future."



CHAPTER IX WITH THE GALLEY SLAVES


Gervaise, on consideration, was obliged to own to himself that Ralph
was right in saying that he had no  ground whatever for suspicion
against the Greek he had met at Signor Vrados's; and he could
see no means  of following the matter up. It would not, he felt,
be honourable to go again to the merchant's house, and to  avail
himself of his hospitality, while watching his guest.  He determined
to dismiss the matter from his  mind, and had, indeed, altogether
done so when, a week later, it suddenly recurred to his memory.

A party of slaves, under the escort of overseers and in charge of
a knight who had been with them at their  work on the fortifications,
were passing along the street on their way back to barracks. It
was already dusk,  and as Gervaise was going the same way as they
were, he stood aside in a doorway to let them pass. He  was on the
point of stepping out to follow them, when he saw a man, who had
been standing in the shadow  of the wall, fall in with their ranks,
and, as he walked engaged in an earnest conversation with one of
the  slaves. He kept beside him for a hundred yards or so, then
passed something into the slave's hand, and  turned abruptly down
a side opening. There were but few people about, and in the growing
darkness the  action of the man passed unobserved by the overseers.
Gervaise, thinking the occurrence a strange one,  turned down the
same lane as the man.

He slackened his pace until the latter was fifty yards ahead, so
that he would not, had he looked round, have  been able to perceive
that it was a knight who was behind him. After passing through several
streets, the  man turned into a refreshment house. The door stood
open, and as the place was brightly lit up, Gervaise,  pausing
outside, was able to see what was going on inside. The man he had
followed was on the point of  seating himself at one of the tables,
and as he did so Gervaise recognised him as the Greek he had met
at  the merchant's house. He at once walked on a short distance,
and then paused to think.

The vague suspicions he had before entertained as to the man now
recurred with double force; he was  certainly in communication
with one or more of the slaves, and such communication, so secretly
effected,  could be for no good purpose. So far, however, there
was nothing he could tax the man with. He would  probably deny
altogether that he had spoken to any of the slaves, and Gervaise
could not point out the one  he had conversed with. At any rate,
nothing could be done now, and he required time to think what steps
he  could take to follow up the matter. He resolved, however, to
wait and follow the Greek when he came out.  After a few minutes
he again repassed the door, and saw that the man was engaged in
earnest conversation  with another. After considering for a time,
Gervaise thought that it would be best for him to follow this  other
man when he left, and ascertain who he was, rather than to keep a
watch on the movements of the  Greek, who, as likely as not, would
now return to the merchant's.

He walked several times up and down the street, until at last
he saw the two men issue out together. They  stopped for a moment
outside, and then, after exchanging a few words, separated, the
Greek going in the  direction of the quarter in which lay the house
of Vrados, while the other walked towards Gervaise. The  latter
passed him carelessly, but when the man had gone nearly to the end
of the street, he turned and  followed him. He could see at once
that he was a lay brother of the Order. This class consisted of
men of an  inferior social position to the knights; they filled
many of the minor offices, but were not eligible for  promotion.
Following for ten minutes, Gervaise saw him approach one of the
barracks, or prisons,  occupied by the slaves. He knocked at the
door, and, upon its being opened, at once entered.

The matter had now assumed a much more serious aspect. This young
Greek, a stranger to Rhodes, was in  communication not only with
some of the slaves, but with a prison official, and the matter
appeared so  grave to Gervaise that, after some deliberation, he
thought it was too important for him to endeavour to  follow out
alone, and that it was necessary to lay it before the bailiff.
Accordingly, after the evening meal  he went up to Sir John Kendall,
and asked if he could confer with him alone on a matter over which
he was  somewhat troubled. The bailiff assented at once, and Gervaise
followed him to his private apartment.

"Now, what is this matter, Sir Gervaise?" he asked pleasantly.
"Nothing serious, I trust?"

"I don't know, Sir John. That is a matter for your consideration;
but it seems to me of such importance that  it ought to be brought
to your knowledge."

The face of the bailiff grew more grave, and, seating himself in
a chair, he motioned to Gervaise to do the  same.

"Now, let me hear what it is," he said.

Gervaise told his story simply. A slight smile passed across the
bailiff's face as he mentioned that he had  met the Greek on the
roof of the house of Signor Vrados, and had not liked the expression
of his face.

"Vrados has some fair daughters, has he not?" he asked.

"Yes, sir; but I know little of them. That is the only visit that I
ever paid there, or, indeed, to the house of  any one in the town."

Sir John's face grew grave again as Gervaise recounted how he had
seen the man enter into communication  with a slave; and he frowned
heavily when he heard of his meeting afterwards with one of the
prison  officers.

"In truth, Sir Gervaise," he said, after a pause, "this seems to
be a right serious matter, and you have done  wisely in informing
me of what you have seen. Assuredly there is mischief of some
sort in the wind. The  question is how to get to the bottom of it.
Of course, the grand master might order the arrest of this Greek
and of the prison officer, but you may be sure that neither would
commit himself unless torture were  applied; and I, for one, have
no belief in what any man says under such circumstances. The most
honest  man may own himself a traitor when racked with torture,
and may denounce innocent men. It is at best a  clumsy device. What
think you of the matter?"

"I have hardly thought it over yet, Sir John; and certainly no plan
has yet occurred to me."

"Well, think it over, Sir Gervaise. It is not likely that a few
days will make any difference. But I will take  measures to see
that this Greek does not sail away from the Island at present, and
will speak to the port  master about it. I will myself give the
matter consideration, but as you have shown yourself so quick witted
in following up the matter so far, I rely upon you more than myself
to carry it farther. There may possibly  be some simple explanation
of the matter. He may come from an island where the Turks are
masters, and  has, perhaps, brought a message from some relatives
of a slave; as to the talk with the prison officer, it may  be
wholly innocent. If we should find that it is so we will keep this
matter to ourselves, if possible, or we  shall get finely laughed
at by our comrades for having run upon a false scent. If, on the
other hand, the  matter should turn out to be serious, you will
assuredly get great credit for having discovered it.  Therefore,
turn it over in your mind tonight, and see if you can arrive at
some scheme for seeing further into it before  we take any steps.

In the morning Gervaise again called upon Sir John Kendall.

"Well, Sir Gervaise, I hope that you have hit upon some scheme for
getting to the bottom of this matter. I  confess that I myself,
though I have had a sleepless night over it, have not been able to
see any method of  getting to the root of the affair, save by the
application of torture."

"I do not know whether the plan I have thought of will commend itself
to your opinion, sir, but I have  worked out a scheme which will,
I think, enable us to get to the bottom of the matter. I believe
that a galley  is expected back from a cruise today or tomorrow.
Now, sir, my idea is that I should go on board a small  craft, under
the command of a knight upon whose discretion and silence you can
rely, such as, for example,  Sir John Boswell, and that we should
intercept the galley. Before we board her I should disguise myself
as  a Turkish slave, and as such Sir John should hand me over to the
officer in command of the galley, giving  him a letter of private
instructions from you as to my disposal. If they have other slaves
on board I would  ask that I should be kept apart from them, as
well as from the rowers of the galley. On being landed I  should
be sent to the prison where I saw the officer enter last night,
and the slaves and rowers should be  distributed among the other
prisons. Thus, then, the slaves I should be placed with would only
know that I  had arrived in the galley with other slaves captured
by it. I have no doubt I should be able to maintain my  assumed
character, and should in a short time be taken into the confidence
of the others, and should learn  what is going on.  It would be
well, of course, that none of the officials of the prison should
be informed as  to my true character, for others, besides the one
I saw, may have been bribed to participate in whatever plot  is
going on."

"And do you mean to say, Sir Gervaise, that you, a knight of the
Order, are willing to submit to the  indignity of being treated as
a slave? To keep up the disguise long enough to be taken into the
confidence  of the plotters, you might have to stay there for some
time; and if the prison officials believe you to be but  an ordinary
slave, you will be put to work either on the walls or in one of
the galleys."

"I am ready to do anything for the benefit of the Order, and the
safety of Rhodes, that will meet with your  approval," Gervaise
replied. "It will no doubt be unpleasant, but we did not enter the
Order to do pleasant  things, but to perform certain duties, and
those duties necessarily involve a certain amount of sacrifice."

"Do you think you would be able to maintain the character? Because
you must remember that if detected  you might be torn in pieces by
the slaves, before the officers could interfere to protect you."

"I feel sure that I can do so, Sir John."

"What story would you tell them?"

"I would say that I had come from Syria, and sailed from Acre in
a trader, which is perfectly true, and also  that I was taken off
the ship I was on by a galley -- which would not be altogether
false, as I crossed one as  I landed. I think there would be very
little questioning, for I should pretend to be in a state of sullen
despair,  and give such short answers to questions that I should
soon be left alone."

"The scheme is a good one, Sir Gervaise, though full of danger and
difficulty. If you are ready to render  this great service to the
Order, I willingly accept the sacrifice you offer to make. I will
send one of my  slaves down into the town to buy garments suitable
for you, and also stains for your skin. It will, of course,  be
necessary for you to shave a portion of your head in Turkish
fashion. I will also see Sir John Boswell,  and ask him to arrange
for a craft to be ready to start at noon. The galley is not expected
in until evening,  but of course she may arrive at any moment now.
Come here again in an hour's time, and I will have the  clothes
ready for you."

"May I suggest, sir, that they should be those appropriate to a
small merchant? This might seem to account  for my not being placed
with the other slaves who may be on board the galley, as it would
be supposed that  I was set apart in order that I should be sent to
one of the auberges as a servant; and my afterwards being  herded
with the others would be explained by its being found that there
was no opening for me in such a  capacity. I should think there
would be no difficulty in obtaining such a suit, as garments of
all kinds are  brought here in prizes, and are bought up by some
of the Greek merchants, who afterwards find  opportunities of
despatching them by craft trading among the islands."

Just before noon Gervaise walked down to the port with Sir John
Boswell, a servant following with a  bundle.

"It seems to me a hare brained scheme, lad," Sir John, who had just
joined him, said, as they issued from  the auberge; "though I own,
from what the bailiff tells me, that there must be some treacherous
plot on  hand, and when that is the case it is necessary that
it should be probed to the bottom. But for a knight to go  in the
disguise of an infidel slave seems to me to be beyond all bounds."

"If one is ready to give one's life for the Order, Sir John,
surely one need not mind a few weeks'  inconvenience.  I shall, at
any rate, be no worse off than you were when serving as a Turkish
slave."

"Well, no, I don't know that you will," Sir John replied doubtfully.
"But that was from necessity, and not  from choice; and it is,
moreover, an accident we are all exposed to."

"It is surely better to do a thing of one's own free will than
because one is forced to do it, Sir John?"

The knight was silent. He was a stout fighting man, but unused to
argument.

"Well," he said, after a long pause, "I can only hope that it
will turn out all right, and promise that if you are  strangled in
prison, I will see that every slave who had a hand in it shall be
strung up. I have told Kendall  frankly that if I were in his place
I would not permit you to try such a venture. However, as I could
think of  no other plan by which there would be a chance of getting
to the bottom of this matter, my words had no  effect with him. I
should not have so much cared if the officers of the gaol knew who
you were; but I can  see that if there is treachery at work this
would defeat your object altogether. What do you suppose this
rascal Greek can be intending?"

"That I cannot say, Sir John. He may be trying to get an exact
plan of the fortifications, or he may be  arranging some plan of
communication by which, in case of siege, news of our condition
and of the state of  our defences may be conveyed to the Turkish
commander."

By this time they had reached the port, and embarked at once on a
trading vessel belonging to one of the  merchants, from whom Sir
John had readily obtained her use for a day or two. Her sails were
hoisted at  once, and she rowed out from the port. Having proceeded
some three or four miles, they lowered her sails,  and lay to in
the course a galley making for the port would take. A sailor was
sent up to the masthead to  keep a lookout. Late in the afternoon
he called down that he could make out a black speck some twelve
miles away. She carried no sails, and he judged her to be a galley.

"It will be dark before she comes along," Sir John Boswell said.
"You can hoist your sails, captain, and  return to within half a
mile of the port, or she may pass us beyond hailing distance."

Gervaise at once retired to the cabin that had been set aside for
their use, and proceeded to disguise himself.  An hour later Sir
John came down. He looked at Gervaise critically.

"You are all right as far as appearances go. I should take you
anywhere for a young Turk. Your clothes are  not too new, and are
in accordance with the tale you are going to tell, which is that
you are the son of a  Syrian trader. If, as Suleiman says, you speak
Turkish well enough to pose as a native, I think you ought to  be
able to pass muster. How long will that dye last? Because if it
begins to fade they will soon suspect  you."

"It will last a fortnight; at least, so Sir John Kendall says. But
he has arranged that if at the end of ten days I  have not succeeded
in finding out anything, he will send down to the prison, and under
the pretence that he  wants to ask me some questions about what
ransom my father would be likely to pay for me, he will have  me
up to the auberge, and there I can dye myself afresh."

"How are you to communicate with him in case of need?"

"His servant Ahmet, who got the things for me, is to come down
every morning, and to be near the door of  the prison at the hour
when the slaves are taken out to work. If I have aught to communicate
I am to nod  twice, and Sir John Kendall will send down that evening
to fetch me, instead of waiting until it is time for  me to renew
my dye."

"What is going to be said to Harcourt and the others to account
for your absence?"

"The bailiff will merely say that he has suddenly sent me away by
ship, on a private mission. They may  wonder, perhaps, but none of
them will venture to ask him its nature."

"Well, I must say that you seem to have made all your arrangements
carefully, Tresham, and I hope it will  turn out well. I was against
the scheme at first, but I own that I do not see now why it should
not succeed;  and if there is any plot really on hand, you may be
able to get to the bottom of it."

It was an hour after darkness had completely fallen when the regular
beat of oars was heard. The ship's boat  was already in the water,
and Gervaise, wrapped up in his mantle, followed Sir John out of
his cabin and  descended with him into the boat, which was at once
rowed towards the approaching galley. Sir John hailed  it as it
came along.

"Who is it calls?" a voice said.

"It is I -- Sir John Boswell. Pray take me on board, Sir Almeric.
It is a somewhat special matter."

The order was given, the galley slaves ceased rowing, and the boat
ran alongside. Gervaise unclasped his  mantle and gave it to Sir
John, and then followed him on board.

"I congratulate you on your return, and on your good fortune in
having, as your letter stated, made a  prosperous voyage," Sir John
said, as he shook hands with the commander of the galley.

"I would speak a word with you aside," he added in a low voice.

Sir Almeric moved with him a few paces from the other knights.

"I am sent here by our bailiff, Sir Almeric. I have a Turkish prisoner
here with me who is to be landed with  those you have taken. There
are special reasons for this, which I need not now enter into.
Will you let him  sit down here by the helm? My instructions are
that he is not to mingle with the other slaves; and as there  are
reasons why it is wished that his coming on board in this manner
shall not be known to them, I myself  am to take him up to one of
the prisons, or at least to hand him over to the officer sent down
from that  prison to take up the captives allotted to it.  The
matter is of more importance than it seems to be, or, as you  may
imagine, I should not be charged to intercept you on such an errand."

"Of course, I don't understand anything about it, Sir John, but
will do as you ask me."

He went to where Gervaise had crouched down by the bulwark,
beckoned him to follow, and, walking aft,  motioned to him to sit
down there. Then he returned to Sir John, and joined the other
knights, who were all  too anxious to learn the latest news -- who
had left the island, and who had come to it since they sailed --
to  interest themselves in any way with the figure who had gone
aft, supposing him, indeed, to be Sir John's  servant, the lantern
suspended over the poop giving too feeble a light for his costume
to be noted.

A quarter of an hour later they anchored in the harbour. Some of
the knights at once went ashore to their  respective auberges, but
Sir Almeric and a few others remained on board until relieved of
their charge in  the morning, an account being sent on shore of
the number of captives that had been brought in. No thought  was
given to Gervaise, who slept curled up on the poop. Sir John
Boswell passed the night on board. In the  morning an officer came
off with a list of the prisons to which the slaves were to be sent.
Sir John Kendall  had seen the officer charged with the distribution,
who had, at his request, not included the prison of St.  Pelagius
in the list.

A message, however, had been sent to that prison, as well as
to the others, for an officer to attend at the  landing stage. In
the morning Sir John went ashore in one of the boats conveying the
slaves, of whom some  forty had been captured. Gervaise followed
him into the boat, and took his seat by the others, who were too
dispirited at the fate which had befallen them to pay any attention
to him.

When he landed, Sir John asked which was the officer from St.
Pelagius. One stepped forward.

"This is the only slave for you," he said, pointing to Gervaise.
"He is of a better class than the rest, and in  the future may be
he will do for a servitor at one of the auberges, but none have at
present occasion for one,  and so he is to go to you. He says that
his father is a merchant, and will be ready to pay a ransom for
him;  but they all say that, and we must not heed it overmuch. As
he seems a smart young fellow, it may be that  he will be sent to
one of the auberges later on; but at present, at any rate, you can
put him with the rest, and  send him out with the gangs."

"He is a well built young fellow, Sir John," the officer remarked,
"and should make a good rower in a  galley. I will put him in the
crew of the St. Elmo. Follow me," he said, in Turkish, to Gervaise,
and then led  the way up to the prison.  On entering he crossed a
courtyard to a door which was standing open. Within  was a vaulted
room, some forty feet long by twenty wide; along each side there
were rushes strewn thickly.

"The others have just started to their work," he said, "so that
for today you can sleep."

After he had left, Gervaise looked with some disgust at the rushes,
that had evidently been for weeks  unchanged.

"I would rather have the bare stones, if they were clean," he
muttered to himself. "However, it can't be  helped."

He presently strolled out into the courtyard, where some other
slaves, disabled by illness or injuries, were  seated in the sun.
Gervaise walked across to them, and they looked listlessly up at
him as he approached.

"You are a newcomer," one said, as he came up. "I saw you brought
in, but it didn't need that. By the time  you have been here
a week or two, your clothes will be like ours," and he pointed to
his ragged garments.  "When did you arrive? Are there no others
coming up here?"

"The galley came in last night," Gervaise said, "but they did not
land us until this morning. I wish they had  killed me rather than
that I should have been brought here to work as a slave."

"One always thinks so at first," the man said. "But somehow one
clings to life. We shall die when Allah  wills it, and not before."

"What is the matter with your foot?" Gervaise asked.

"I was with the gang quarrying stones, and a mass of rock fell upon
it. I have been in the infirmary for  weeks, and I own that the
Christian dogs treated me well. A slave has his value, you see. I
am nearly cured  now, but I shall never walk well again. I expect
they will put me in one of their accursed galleys."

"How long have you been here?"

"Seven years; it seems a lifetime. However, there is hope yet.
They don't tell us much, but we hear things  sometimes, and they
say that the sultan is going to sweep them out of Rhodes as they
were swept out of  Acre. When will it be?"

"I know not. I am from Syria, but even there they are making
preparations. The sultan has had troubles in  the East, and that
has delayed him, but he will be here before long, and then we shall
see. It will be our turn  then."

"It will, indeed!" one of the others exclaimed. "Oh, to see these
dogs brought down, and suffering as we  have suffered, toiling at
oars in one of our galleys, or at the fortifications of one of our
castles! It will make  amends for all our suffering. Had you a hard
fight with them?"

"No. We were but a small craft, and it was vain to attempt resistance.
I would gladly have fought, but the  sailors said it would only
throw away their lives. There was but little on board, and they
allowed the vessel  to go free with those of the sailors who were
too old to be made useful for hard work."

No further questions were asked. The men seemed to have no interest
save in their own misery, and  Gervaise soon left them, and, sitting
down in a shady corner, presently dropped off to sleep.

In the evening all came in from their various work.  The officer
man who had brought Gervaise in went up  to the overseer of the
galley slaves and informed him that he had told off the new slave
-- pointing to  Gervaise -- to his gang.

"He was brought in by the galley that arrived last night," he said;
"he was the only slave sent up here. I hear  that he had been set
aside to be appointed a servitor, but there are no vacancies, so
they sent him here till  one should occur; and I was ordered to
make him useful in other ways in the meantime."

"I am two or three hands short," the overseer said. "I wish now
I had sent in an application yesterday, for if  I had done so, no
doubt they would have sent me some more men. However, this fellow
will make up an  even number, and he is strong and active, though
at present he looks sulky enough under his bad fortune."

A few of the slaves spoke to Gervaise as they were waiting for food
to be brought them, but the majority  dropped upon the rushes, too
exhausted with toil and heat to feel an interest in anything. The
food consisted  of rye bread, with thin broth, brought in a great
iron vessel. Each slave had a horn, which was used for soup  or
water, and which, when done with, he had, by the rule enforced
among themselves, to take out to the  fountain in the courtyard and
wash, before it was added to the pile in the corner of the room.

The cool of the evening aided the meal in restoring the energies of
the slaves. Several gathered round  Gervaise, and asked questions
as to what he knew of the prospects of an early invasion of Rhodes;
but as  soon as the officer left the room, closing and locking the
door after him, the slaves became for the most part  silent. A few
men sat in groups together, talking in undertones, but the greater
number threw themselves  down on the rushes, either to sleep or
to think alone. Gervaise was struck by the manner in which most of
them lay, without making the slightest movement, so long as there
was light to enable him to make out their  figures. He himself
addressed two or three of them, as they lay with their eyes wide
open, asking questions  with reference to the work; but in no case
did he receive any reply. The men seemed altogether unconscious  of
being addressed, being absorbed in the thought of their far distant
homes and families which they might  never see again.

Gervaise walked a few times up and down the room, and as he approached
a silence fell each time upon the  groups of men talking together.
More than once a figure rose soon afterwards from the ground, and,
as he  came along again, asked him a few questions about himself.
As soon as it was dark, he lay down in a  vacant space on the
rushes. Shortly afterwards talking ceased altogether, and there was
quiet in the vaulted  room. With the first gleam of daylight they
were astir, and, when the doors were opened, poured out into  the
courtyard, where all had a wash at the fountain. Half an hour
later, a meal, precisely similar to that of  the previous evening,
was served out; then the overseers called over the muster roll,
the gangs were made  up, and each, under its officer, started for
its work.

Gervaise, with the men of his room, proceeded down to the port, and
at once took their seats on the benches  of the galley, one foot
being chained to a ring in the deck, the other to that of a companion
at the oar. The  slaves were more cheerful now. As there was no
work to do at present, they were allowed to talk, and an  occasional
laugh was heard, for the sun and brightness of the day cheered them.
Many, after years of  captivity, had grown altogether reckless, and
it was among these that there was most talking; the younger  men
seemed, for the most part, silent and moody.

"You will get accustomed to it," the man next to Gervaise said
cheeringly. "When I first came here, it  seemed to me that I could
not support the life for a month -- that the fate was too dreadful
to be borne, and  that death would be most welcome; but, like the
rest, I became accustomed to it in time. After all, the work  is
no harder than one would do at home. There is no stint of food,
and it is no worse than one would have,  were one labouring in
the fields.  Were it not for the loss of those we love, it would
be nothing; and in time  one gets over even that. I have long ago
told myself that if they are not dead, at least they are dead to
me.  They have their livings to get, and cannot be always mourning,
and I have tried to forget them, as they must  have forgotten me."

"Do you work hard?" Gervaise asked.

"No. We who are in the galleys are regarded by the others with envy.
Sometimes -- often, indeed -- we have  naught to do all day. We
bask in the sun, we talk, we sleep, we forget that we are slaves.
But, generally, we  go out for an hour or two's exercise; that is
well enough, and keeps us strong and in health. Only when we  are
away on voyages is the work hard. Sometimes we row from morning
to night; but it is only when they  are in chase of another craft
that we have really to exert ourselves greatly. Then it is terrible.
We may be  doing our best, our very best, and yet to the impatient
knights it seems that we might do more. Then they  shout to the
overseer, and he lays his whip on our backs without mercy. Then
we row until sometimes we  drop, senseless, off the benches. But
this, you understand, is not very often; and though the work on a
cruise is long, it is not beyond our strength. Besides, when we
are away in the galley there is always hope.  The galley may meet
with four or five of our ships, and be captured, or a storm may
arise and dash her  upon the shore; and though many would lose
their lives, some might escape, and each man, in thinking of  it,
believes that he will be one of the fortunate ones.

"Take my advice: always look cheerful if you can; always put your
hand on the oar when the order is given,  and row as if you were
glad to be at work again; and always make a show, as if you were
working your  hardest. Never complain when you are struck unjustly,
and always speak respectfully to the overseer. In  that way you
will find your life much easier than you would think. You will
be chosen for small boat  service; and that is a great thing, as
we are not chained in the small boats. Some men are foolish and
obstinate, but, so far from doing any good, this only brings trouble
on themselves; they come in for  punishment daily, they are closely
watched, and their lives made hells for them. Even as a help to
escape it  pays best to be cheerful and alert. We all think of escape,
you know, though it is seldom indeed that a  chance ever comes to
any of us. It is the one thing except death to look forward to,
and there is not a man  among us who does not think of it scores
of times a day; but, small as the chance is, it is greatest for
those  who behave best. For instance, it is they only who man small
boats; and when a small boat rows ashore, it  is always possible
that the guard may be careless -- that he will keep the boat at
the landing place, instead  of pushing off at once into deep water,
as he ought to do -- and that in this way a chance will, sooner or
later, come for springing ashore and making a dash for liberty."



CHAPTER X.  A PLOT DISCOVERED.


The conversation between Gervaise and his fellow slave was
interrupted by the arrival at the side of the  quay of a party of
knights. Silence instantly fell upon the slaves; all straightened
themselves up to the oars,  and prepared for a start. Among the
knights who took their places on the poop Gervaise saw with  amusement
his friend Ralph. He had no fear of a recognition, for the darkly
stained skin and the black hair  had so completely altered him that
when he had looked at himself in a mirror, after the application
of the  dye, he was surprised to find that he would not have known
it to be his own face. Ralph was in command of  the party, which
consisted of young knights who had but recently arrived at Rhodes;
and as it was the first  time he had been appointed as instructor,
Gervaise saw that he was greatly pleased at what he rightly  regarded
as promotion.

The galley at once pushed off from the wharf, and rowed out of the
port. The work was hard; but as the  slaves were not pressed to
any extraordinary exertions, Gervaise did not find it excessive.
He congratulated  himself, however, that the stain was, as he had
been assured, indelible, save by time, for after a few  minutes'
exercise he was bathed in perspiration. As the galley had been taken
out only that instruction  might be given to the young knights,
the work was frequently broken.

Sometimes they went ahead at full speed for a few hundred yards,
as if to chase an adversary; then they  would swerve aside, the
slaves on one side rowing, while those on the other backed, so as
to make a rapid  turn. Then she lay for a minute or two immovable,
and then backed water, or turned to avoid the attack of  an imaginary
foe. Then for an hour she lay quiet, while the knights, divesting
themselves of their mantles  and armour, worked one of the guns on
the poop, aiming at a floating barrel moored for the purpose a mile
out at sea. At eleven o'clock they returned to the port. Bread and
water were served out to the slaves, and  they were then permitted
to lie down and sleep, the galley being moored under the shadow of
the wall.

At four o'clock another party of knights came down, and the work
was similar to that which had been  performed in the morning. At
seven o'clock the slaves were taken back to their barracks.

"Well, what do you think of your work?" one of the slaves asked
Gervaise, as they ate their evening meal.

"It would not be so bad if it was all like that."

"No. But I can tell you that when you have to row from sunrise
to sunset, with perhaps but one or two  pauses for a few minutes,
it is a different thing altogether, especially if the galley is
carrying despatches,  and speed is necessary.  Then you get so worn
out and exhausted, that you can scarce move an oar through  the
water, until you are wakened up by a smart as if a red hot iron
had been laid across your shoulders. It is  terrible work then. The
whip cracks every minute across some one's back; you are blinded
by exhaustion  and rage, and you feel that you would give the world
if you could but burst your chain, rush on your  taskmasters, and
strike, if only one blow, before you are killed."

"It must be terrible," Gervaise said. "And do you never get loose,
and fall upon them?"

The man shook his head.

"The chains are too strong, and the watch too vigilant," he said.
"Since I came here I have heard tales of  crews having freed
themselves in the night, and fallen upon the Christians, but for
my part I do not believe  in them. I have thought, as I suppose
every one of us has thought, how such a thing could be done; but
as  far as I know no one has hit on a plan yet. Now and then men
have managed to become possessed of a file,  and have, by long and
patient work, sawn through a chain, and have, when a galley has
been lying near our  own shore, sprung overboard and escaped; but
for every attempt that succeeds there must be twenty  failures,
for the chains are frequently examined, and woe be to the man who
is found to have been  tampering with his. But as to a whole gang
getting free at once, it is altogether impossible, unless the key
of  the pad locks could be stolen from an overseer, or the man
bribed into aiding us."

"And that, I suppose, is impossible?" Gervaise said.

"Certainly, impossible for us who have no money to bribe them
with, but easy enough if any one outside,  with ample means, were
to set about it. These overseers are, many of them, sons of Turkish
mothers, and  have no sympathy, save that caused by interest,
with one parent more than another. Of course, they are  brought up
Christians, and taught to hold Moslems in abhorrence, but I think
many of them, if they had  their free choice, would cross to the
mainland. Here they have no chance of ever being aught but what
they  are -- overseers of slaves, or small prison officials. They
are despised by these haughty knights, and hated  by us, while
were they to reach the mainland and adopt their mothers' religion,
everything would be open to  them.  All followers of the Prophet
have an equal chance, and one may be a soldier today, a bey tomorrow,
and a pasha a year hence, if he be brave, or astute, or capable in
any way beyond his fellows. Men like  these warders would be sure
to make their way.

"They cannot have gathered much during their service, therefore the
offer of a large sum of money would  find plenty among them eager
to earn it. But, you see, they are but the inferiors. On our voyages
on board  the galley, the knights inspect our fetters twice a day,
and the keys are kept in the commander's cabin. For  an hour or
two, when we are not on a long passage, the padlocks are unfastened,
in order that we may jump  over and bathe, and exercise our limbs;
but at this time the knights are always on guard, and as we are
without arms we are altogether powerless. It is the same thing
here. The senior warders, who all belong to  the Order, although
of an inferior grade, come round, as you have seen, to examine our
fetters, and  themselves lock and bar the doors. If one or two of
these could be corrupted, escape would be easy  enough."

"But is it impossible to do this?" Gervaise asked eagerly.  "My
father has money, and would I know be  ready, if I could communicate
with him, to pay a handsome sum, if sure that it would result in
my obtaining  my freedom."

The man nodded significantly.

"There may be other means of doing it," he said.  "Perhaps it will
not be long before you hear of it. You  seem a stout fellow, and
full of spirit, but, as yet, anything that may be going on is known
but to a few, and  will go no further until the time comes that all
may be told. I think not so badly of men of our faith as to  believe
that any one would betray the secret for the sake of obtaining his
own freedom and a big reward;  but secrets, when known by many, are
apt to leak out. A muttered word or two in sleep, or the ravings
of  one down with fever, might afford ground for suspicion, and
torture would soon do the rest. I myself know  nothing of the secret,
but I do know that there is something going on which, if successful,
will give us our  freedom. I am content to know no more until the
time comes; but there are few, save those engaged in the  matter,
that know as much as this, and you can see that it is better it
should be so.  Look at that man  opposite; he has been here fifteen
years; he seldom speaks; he does his work, but it is as a brute
beast --  despair has well nigh turned him into one. Think you that
if such a man as that were to know that there is  hope, he would
not be so changed that even the dullest would observe it? I see you
are a brisk young  fellow, and I say to you, keep up your courage.
The time is nearer than you think when you will be free  from these
accursed shackles."

Each morning, as he went out to work with his gang, Gervaise saw
the servant from the auberge standing  near; but he made no sign.
He was satisfied that his suspicions had been justified, and that
he was not  leading this life in vain, but he thought it better
to wait until the week passed, and he was taken away to  have his
colour renewed, than to make a sign that might possibly rouse the
suspicions of his comrades. On  the eighth morning, when the door
of the room was unlocked, the overseer said -- "Number 36, you will
remain here. You are wanted for other work."

After the gang had left the prison, the overseer returned.

"I am to take you up to the English auberge. The knight who handed
you over to me when you landed, told  me that you might be wanted
as a servitor; and as it is he who has sent down, it may be that
a vacancy has  occurred. If so, you are in luck, for the servitors
have a vastly better time of it than the galley slaves, and  the
English auberge has the best reputation in that respect. Come along
with me."

The English auberge was one of the most handsome of the buildings
standing in the great street of the  Knights.  Its architecture
was Gothic in its character, and, although the langue was one of
the smallest of  those represented at Rhodes, it vied with any of
them in the splendour of its appointments. Sir John  Boswell was
standing in the interior courtyard.

"Wait here for a few minutes," he said to the overseer.  "The bailiff
will himself question the slave as to his  accomplishments; but I
fancy he will not be considered of sufficient age for the post that
is vacant.  However, if this should not be so, I shall no doubt
find a post to fit him ere long, for he seems a smart  young fellow,
and, what is better, a willing one, and bears himself well under
his misfortunes."

Then he motioned to Gervaise to follow him to the bailiff's
apartments.

"Well, Sir Gervaise," Sir John Kendall exclaimed, as the door closed
behind him, "have you found aught to  justify this cruel penance
you have undertaken?"

"As to the penance, Sir John, it has been nothing unsupportable.
The exercise is hard enough, but none too  hard for one in good
health and strength, and, save for the filth of the chamber in
which we are shut up at  night, and the foul state of the rushes
on which we lie, I should have naught to complain of. No, I have
as  yet heard nothing of a surety -- and yet enough to show me that
my suspicions were justified, and that there  is a plot of some
sort on foot," and he related to the two knights the conversation
he had had with the galley  slave.

"By St. George!" the bailiff said, "you have indeed been justified
in your surmises, and I am glad that I  attached sufficient importance
to your suspicions to let you undertake this strange enterprise.
What think  you, Sir John Boswell?"

"I think with you, that Sir Gervaise has fully justified his
insistence in this matter, which I own I considered  to be hare
brained folly. What is to be done next, Sir Gervaise?"

"That is what I have been turning over in my mind.  You see, I may
have little warning of what is going to  take place. I may not hear
of it until we are locked up for the night and the affair is on
the point of taking  place, and it will, of course, be most needful
that I shall be able to communicate with you speedily."

"That, of course, is of vital importance," the bailiff said.  "But
how is it to be managed?"

"That is what I cannot exactly see, Sir John. An armed guard remains in
our room all night. But, in the first  place, he might be himself
in the plot, and if not, the slaves would almost certainly overpower
him and kill  him, as a preliminary to the work of knocking off
their chains."

"Is there a window to the room? At least, of course there is a
window, but is it within your reach?"

"There are six small loopholes -- one on each side of the door,
and two in each of the side walls; they are  but four inches across
and three feet in length, and there are two crossbars to each; they
are four feet from  the floor."

"At any rate, they are large enough for your arm to pass through,
Sir Gervaise, and you might drop a strip  of cloth out."

"Certainly I could, Sir John. I could easily hide a piece of white
cotton a yard or so long in my clothes,  scanty as these are, and
could certainly manage, unobserved, to drop it outside the window."

"Then the rest is for us to contrive, Boswell. We must have some
one posted in the yard of the prison, with  instructions to go
every ten minutes throughout the night to see if a strip of white
cotton has been dropped  out. When he finds it he must go at once
to William Neave, the governor. He is a sturdy Englishman, and
there is no fear of his having been bribed to turn traitor; but it
were well to take no one into our confidence.  I think we cannot
do better than employ Ahmet on this business, as he already knows
that Sir Gervaise is  masquerading there. We will have William
Neave up here presently. Tell him that for certain reasons we  wish
Ahmet to pass the night for the present in the prison, and arrange
with him on what excuse we can  best bestow him there without
exciting suspicion. At any rate, Sir Gervaise, that is our affair."

He went to a closet and took out a white mantle, tore a strip off
the bottom, and gave it to Gervaise.

"It would be best not to keep you here any longer," he said, "so
renew your stain while I speak. As soon as  you learn the details
of the plot, you will drop this out from the loophole on the right
hand side of the door;  that is to say, the one on your right,
standing inside. If the affair is not to come off at once, it were
best for  you to proceed as before. Ahmet will be outside when you
go out with your gang, and on your nodding to  him we will make some
excuse to take you away on your return. I say this because if you
see that the affair,  whatever it is, is not imminent, you might
think it better to remain with them longer, so as to learn their
plans more fully, instead of having the thing put a stop to at
once."

"I understand, Sir John; but, as I have said, I do not think we
should all be told until the blow is ready to be  struck, as they
would be afraid that some one might inform against them, if time
and opportunity were  granted them."

"I think so too, Sir Gervaise. This afternoon we will call upon the
grand master, for we have no means of  knowing how serious or how
extended this plot may be; it may include only the crew of a single
galley,  and, on the other hand, the whole of the slaves may be
implicated in it.  It is evident, therefore, that the  matter is
too serious to be kept any longer from his knowledge."

Three more days passed. On the third evening, after the allowance
of broth and bread had been consumed,  and the door was closed and
locked upon them for the night, three or four of the galley slaves,
after talking  eagerly together, beckoned to the others to gather
round them at the end of the room farthest from the door.  Two
of them took up arms full of the bedding, and stuffed it into the
side windows. Gervaise saw, in the  dim light, a look of intense
excitement on the faces of the slaves. It had been vaguely known
among them  that a plot was in hand, although but few had been
admitted into the confidence of the leaders.  Hitherto all  had
feared that it concerned only a small number, but the preparations
now made to insure that they should  not be overheard, showed that,
whatever the plan might be, all were to share in it.

"Thanks be to Allah, the All Powerful," one of the men began, "my
lips are unsealed, and I can tell you the  great news that our hour
for escape from bondage is at hand!  We need not fear the warder
there," he went  on, as several eyes were turned apprehensively
towards the guard, who, with his spear beside him, was  leaning
carelessly against the wall at the farther end, looking through
the window into the courtyard; "he is  with us. You must know that
for the last two months an agent from Constantinople has been on
the Island,  and has been engaged in arranging this affair.  Two of
our taskmasters belonging to the Order have been  bribed by large
sums of money, and several of the overseers, who are half of our
blood, have eagerly  embraced the prospect of returning to their
mothers' country, and of avowing openly their belief in our  religion.
These, again, have bought over many of the guards, ours included,
and tonight all will be ready for  action. Those not of our party
will be killed without ceremony. Duplicate keys have been made of
all the  padlocks of the fetters; the guards who are with us have
each one of them, the others will have been slipped  into the
hands of one man in each gang as they returned tonight from work.
The overseers who are in the  plot will, at midnight, go quietly
round and unlock the doors, and remove the bars from the outside.
We  have, therefore, only to overcome the eight or ten men who
patrol the prison; and as we shall have the arms  of the guards,
some thirty in number, we shall make quick work of them.

"The two guards at the outside gates must, of course, be killed.
Duplicates of the keys have been made, and  will be hidden in a
spot known to some of our party, close to the gate. Thus we have
but to issue out and  rush down, in a body, to the port. I and
another are to take the arms of our guard, and two others are told
off  in each room to do the same. That will give us sixty armed men.
We shall make very short work of the  guards at the gate leading
into the port. Then twenty of us are to run along the mole to Fort
St. Nicholas,  twenty to the Tower of St. Michael, and twenty to
that of St. John. There will be, at the most, but three or  four
men keeping watch at each fort, and thus we shall have in our
possession the three forts commanding  the entrance to the harbour.
There are, as you know, six galleys manned by crews from our prison
there.  The crew of each galley will embark upon it, and man the
oars; the rest will divide themselves among the  galleys. Before
starting, we shall seize and set fire to all other galleys and
ships in the port. The gangs in  four of the rooms have been told
off specially for this duty. Before firing them, they are to take
out such  provisions as they may find, and transport them to the
galleys. We who take the forts are provided with  hammers and long
nails, to drive down the vent holes of the cannon; when we have
done this, we are to  wait until one of the galleys fetches us off.
Ten minutes should be ample time for all there is to be done,  and
even if the alarm is given at once, we shall be away long before
the knights can be aroused from sleep,  buckle on their armour,
and get down to the port."

Exclamations of delight and approbation burst from his hearers.

"Then it is only we of this prison who are in the plot?" one said.

"Yes. In the first place, it would have been too dangerous to attempt
to free all. In the second, the galleys  would not carry them; we
shall be closely packed as it is, for there are over a thousand
here. I hear that  there was a talk of freeing all, and that we,
instead of embarking at first, should make for the other prisons,
burst open the doors, and rescue the others; but by the time we
could do so the knights would be all in  arms, and our enterprise
would fail altogether, for as but a small proportion of us can
obtain weapons, we  could not hope to overcome them. Were it not
for the strong wall that separates their quarter from the town,
we might make straight for their houses and slay them before the
alarm could be given. As it is, that would  be impossible, and
therefore the plan will be carried out as I have told you. The
loss of all their galleys and  of over one thousand slaves will
be a heavy blow for them. Great pains have been taken to prevent
confusion when we reach the port. The men in each room have been
instructed as to the galleys on which  they are to embark. As for
you, you know precisely what is to be done; you will simply take
your places,  and then wait until all are on board. No galley is
to push out from the wharf until the last man of those  employed
in burning the ships has returned, with the provisions found in
them. Then the order will be given  by the man who has arranged
all this, and the six galleys will put out together.

One is to row to each of the forts to carry off the party that
will have been engaged in silencing its cannon.  Our galley is to
row to St. Nicholas, and take off the twenty men I shall lead there.
There is no possibility  of failure. Everything has, you see, been
arranged. One of the overseers who is in the plot walked by my
side as we returned from the port, and gave me the instructions,
and all the others will have been told in the  same way, or else
by the guards in charge of them." The gang now broke up into little
groups, talking  excitedly over the unlooked for news, and exulting
over the speedy advent of liberty. Gervaise strolled  carelessly
to the window, and dropped out the white strip of stuff. It was now
quite dark, and there was no  fear of any one observing the movement.
Then he joined the others. After an hour and a half had passed he
heard footsteps approaching the door. There was a pause; then the
outside bars were taken down, and a key  turned in the lock. A deep
silence fell on the slaves. Then a voice called, "Number 36!"

"What is it?" replied Gervaise, without raising himself from his
seat on the bedding. "I have done my share  of work today, and
earned my night's sleep."

"It is a knight from the English auberge; he has come to fetch you.
It seems that you are to go there as a  servitor."

"What a cursed fortune," Gervaise muttered, in Turkish, "just when
a road to freedom is open! I have a  good mind to say I am ill,
and cannot go till the morning."

"No, no!" one of the others exclaimed. "They would only drag you
out, and when they saw that there was  naught the matter with you,
would suspect that there must be some reason why you did not want
to go,  when, as every one knows, the position of the servitors is
in every way preferable to ours."

"Now then, why are you delaying?" a voice said sharply, and a
warder entered with a lighted torch. "Get  up, you lazy hound! It
will be worse for you if I have to speak again."

"I am coming," Gervaise grumbled. "I was just asleep."

He rose, as if reluctantly, and went forward. The warder gave him
an angry push, followed him out, and  locked and barred the door
after him.

"I suppose this is the right man?" Sir John Boswell said.

"This is Number 36, Sir Knight, the same who was taken over to your
auberge the other day," and he held  the light close to Gervaise's
face.

"Yes, that is the man. Follow me," he added, in Turkish.  The gate
of the courtyard was unbarred, and they  passed out unquestioned.
Sir John strolled on ahead. Gervaise followed him a pace or two
behind. Not until  they had passed through the gate of the castle
did Sir John turn.

"I have not spoken to you," he said, "as we may have been watched.
Keep your news until we reach the  auberge."

Upon entering it they went up at once to Sir John Kendall's
apartments.

"Well, Sir Gervaise, the strip of cotton was brought to us safely.
What is your news?"

"It is very serious, Sir John, and I have been in terrible anxiety
since I dropped it out, lest it should not  come to hand in time.
As it is, you have till midnight to make your preparations." He
then repeated the  statement made by the galley slave.

"By my faith," Sir John Kendall exclaimed, "this is a pretty plot
indeed! And had it succeeded, as it  certainly would have done but
for your vigilance, it would have been a heavy blow to us. The
burning of all  our galleys would have crippled us sorely, and
the loss of over a thousand slaves would have been a serious  one
indeed, when we so urgently require them for completing our defences.
Get rid of those clothes at once,  Sir Gervaise, and don your own.
We must go straight to the grand master. You will find your clothes
and  armour in the next room. I had them taken there as soon as
your token was brought me."

In a few minutes Gervaise returned in his usual attire, and with
his armour buckled on. The two knights  were already in their coats
of mail, and leaving the auberge they went to the grand master's
palace. A  servitor had already been sent to D'Aubusson to inform
him that they were coming, and he advanced to  meet them as they
entered.

"Welcome, Sir Gervaise!" he said. "Whether your news be good or bad,
whether you have found that it is a  general rising of the slaves
that is intended, or a plot by which a handful of slaves may seize
a boat and  escape, the gratitude of the Order is no less due to
you for the hardships and humiliations you have  undergone on its
behalf."

"It concerns but one prison: that of St. Pelagius."

"The largest of them," the grand master put in.

"The whole of the slaves there are to be liberated at twelve
o'clock tonight, are to seize the three water  towers and to spike
the guns, to burn all the shipping in the harbour, to make off with
six galleys, and  destroy the rest."

"By St. John!" D'Aubusson exclaimed, "this is indeed a serious
matter. But tell me all about it. There must  be treachery indeed
at work for such a scheme to be carried out.

Gervaise now told him all the details he had learned.

"So two of the Order, though but of the inferior grade, are in the
plot?" the grand master said; "and several  of the overseers? One
of the villains is, of course, the man you saw this Greek talking
with. We must get  hold of the other if we can. As to the slaves,
now that we have warning, there is an end of the matter,  though
without such warning they would surely have succeeded, for the
plans are well laid, and they would  have been at sea before we
could have gathered in any force at the port. If it were not that
it would cost the  lives of many of the warders and of the prison
guards, I should say we ought to take post outside the gate,  for
we should then catch the traitors who are to accompany them. As it
is, we must be beforehand with  them. A hundred men will be more
than ample for our purpose.  Do you take fifty of your knights,
Sir John  Kendall, and I will draw fifty of those of Auvergne.
At eleven o'clock we will meet at the gate leading  down into the
town, and will march to the private entrance of the governor's
house. I will go in first with a  few of you, tell him what we
have discovered, and post guards to prevent any one from leaving
his house.  Then, having admitted the others, we will go quietly
out and place a party at each door of the overseers'  house, with
orders to seize any who may come out. The rest, in small parties,
will then go round the prison,  and, entering each room, show the
slaves that their plot has been discovered. This we must do to
save the  lives of the guards who may be faithful to their trust.
As to the higher officials engaged in the affair, we  must obtain
their names from the overseers or slaves. It is not likely that
the two traitors will quit their  houses, as they will leave the
matter in the hands of the overseers, who, as you say, intend to
first open the  doors, and then to accompany the slaves in their
escape. Do not warn the knights until it is nearly time to  start,
Sir John. The less stir made the better, for no one can say whether
they may not have suborned some  of the servitors to send instant
news of any unusual movements in any of the auberges."

At half past ten Sir John Kendall went round among the knights
and bade fifty of them arm themselves  quietly, and proceed, one
by one, down to the gate, and there await orders. Up to this time
Gervaise had  remained in the bailiff's room, so as to avoid the
questioning that would take place, and he went down to  the gate
with the bailiff and Sir John Boswell.

The knights assembled rapidly. None were aware of the reason for
which they had been called out at such  an hour, and there was a
buzz of talk and conjecture until Sir John Kendall arrived. He was
followed by  four of the servants, who at once lighted the torches
they carried, when he proceeded to go through the roll,  and found
that the muster was complete. Many of the knights had gazed in some
surprise at Gervaise,  whose dark complexion altogether concealed
his identity, and it was supposed that he must be some newly  arrived
knight, though none had heard that any ship had entered the harbour
that day.

Two or three minutes later fifty knights of the langue of Auvergne
came down, headed by the grand master  himself, whose appearance
greatly heightened the surprise of the English knights. The
torches were now  extinguished, the gate thrown open, and the party
descended into the town. Gervaise had purposely fallen in  by the
side of Harcourt.

"You are but newly arrived, Sir Knight?" the latter said, as they
moved off.

"Not so very newly, Ralph," Gervaise replied.

"What! is it you, Gervaise?" Harcourt exclaimed, with a start of
surprise. "Why, I did not know you, though  I looked hard at you
in the torch light. What have you done with yourself? Where have
you been? Do you  know what all this is about?"

"I cannot tell you now, Ralph. You must be content to know that I
have been in prison, and working in the  galleys."

"The saints defend us! Why, what on earth had you done to entail
such punishment as that? It is an outrage.   The grand master and
the council have the right to expel a knight from the Order after
due trial and  investigation, but not to condemn him to such
penalties as the galleys. It is an outrage upon the whole  Order,
and I would say so to the grand master himself."

"There was no outrage in it, Ralph. Wait until you hear the whole
story. That I have not disgraced you, you  may judge from the fact
that I am in the armour and mantle of the Order, and that, as you
saw, I came down  with Sir John Kendall himself."

There were no people about in the streets, though the lights still
burned on a few of the roofs. For a short  distance the knights
marched down towards the port, and then turned down a street to
the right. After a few  minutes' marching they halted under a high
wall which all knew to be that of the prison of St. Pelagius. Six
knights were posted at the main entrance, with orders that none
should be allowed to leave the prison, and  that any persons who
came up to the gate were to be at once seized and made prisoners.

The rest marched on to a small door leading into the governor's
house. Here they were halted, and told to  wait till called in;
six knights of England, and as many of Auvergne, being told off to
accompany the grand  master and Sir John Kendall. A note had been
sent to the governor, informing him that the grand master  intended
to visit the prison at eleven o'clock, but that the matter was to
be kept an absolute secret; and that  the governor himself was to
be down at the gate to admit him.



CHAPTER XI IN COMMAND OF A GALLEY


William Neave, the governor of the prison, looked astonished indeed
when, upon his opening the door, the  grand master and the bailiff
of the English langue, with the twelve knights behind them, entered.
He had  been puzzled when, four days before, he had received an
order from the grand master that Ahmet, a servitor  in the auberge
of the English langue, should be permitted to pass the night in
his house, with authority to  move freely and without question, at
any hour, in the courtyard of the gaol, and to depart at any hour,
secretly and without observation, by the private gate. Still more
had he been surprised when he received the  message that the grand
master would pay him a secret visit at eleven o'clock at night.

"Let no word be spoken until we are in your apartments," D'Aubusson
said in a low voice, as he entered.   "But first lead four of
these knights and post them so that none can enter the gaol from
the house. If there  are more than four doors or windows on that
side, you must post a larger number. It is imperative that there
shall be no communication whatever between your servants and the
gaol."

As soon as this was done, the rest of the party were taken to the
governor's rooms.

"I can now explain to you all," the grand master said, "the reason
of our presence here. I have learned that  at twelve tonight there
will be a general rising of the slaves in this prison, and that,
aided by treachery, they  will free themselves from their fetters,
overpower and slay such of the guards in their rooms as have not
been bribed, throw open the gates, make their way down to the port,
burn all the shipping there, and make  off in the six galleys manned
by them, having first overpowered the sentries in the three forts
commanding  the entrance, and spiked the guns."

Exclamations of astonishment burst from the knights, who now, for
the first time, learnt the reason of their  being called out. The
governor listened with an expression of stupefaction.

"With all deference to your Highness," he said hesitatingly, "it
seems to me that some one must have been  deceiving you with this
tale. It is altogether incredible that such a plot should have
been hatched without a  whisper of the matter coming to my ears.
It could only be possible were there, not one but many, traitors
among the officials; if this is so, then indeed am I a dull ass,
and unfit for my duty here, of which I shall  pray you to relieve
me, and to order such punishment as the council may deem just to
be allotted to me for  having so signally been hoodwinked."

"My news is sure," the grand master said; "but I deem not that you
are in any way to blame in the matter.  The plot has been matured,
not as a consequence of any laxity of discipline in the prison,
but from  deliberate treachery, against which no mortal being can
guard. The traitors are two of the officials who,  being members
of the Order, none would suspect of connivance in such a deed.
With them are several -- I  know not how many -- under officials,
warders, and guards; all these have been bribed by an emissary from
Constantinople, now in the town, and who is doubtless furnished
with large means. It is well, indeed, for  the Order, that this
terrible act of treachery has been discovered in time to prevent
the plot from coming to a  head, for the loss of all our galleys,
to say nothing of the disgrace of having been thus bearded by
slaves,  would be a very heavy blow to it.

"Now that the house is safely guarded, William Neave, you can admit
the rest of the knights, who are  waiting outside. Then you will,
in the first place, conduct a party, and post them so that they
may arrest, as  they come out to perform their share of the work,
all officials, warders, and guards, of whatever rank. When  you
have posted knights to carry out this -- and I need not say that
the operation must be performed as  silently as possible, for it
is above all things necessary that the men concerned shall have no
suspicion that  their plot has been discovered -- you will conduct
other parties to the various rooms occupied by the slaves.  The
guards on duty inside will be made prisoners.  The doors will then
be locked and barred as before. The  appearance of the knights
and the arrest of the guards will be sufficient to show the slaves
that their plot has  been discovered, and there will be no fear of
their making any attempt to carry it into execution. I will  myself
post the main body of the knights in the courtyard. The arrest of
the guards is to be carried out at  once, as all those not concerned
in the plot would be killed when the hour comes for the rising.
Therefore  this part of the business must be carried out immediately.
I should not, however, lead the guards away to a  cell, for the less
tramping of feet the better.  Therefore I shall place two knights
in each room, and beg them  to remain inside in charge until the
traitors outside are secured."

The knights outside were now marched up. The grand master ordered
half those of Auvergne to go round to  the main gate, which would
be opened for them by the governor; they were to enter quietly, and
remain in a  body close to it until they received further orders.
Sir John Kendall told off the rest of the knights to the  various
duties of watching the houses occupied by the officials and warders,
and of entering the prison  rooms and remaining in them on guard.
The governor, with his private servants, bearing a supply of  torches,
was to lead them to the various cells, and unlock the doors. The
knights were enjoined to move as  noiselessly as possible, and to
avoid all clashing of arms against armour.

The governor produced a number of cloths intended to be served out
to the slaves. Strips of these were cut  off and wrapped round the
feet of the English knights, so as to deaden the sound of their
boots on the stone  pavement.  Then, accompanied by the grand master
and Sir John Kendall, he went the round of the cells.

In some of these the slaves were found standing up in an attitude
of eager expectation, which, as the door  opened, and the light of
the torches showed a party of knights, changed into one of terror
and consternation.  Scarce a word was spoken. The guard was ordered
to lay down his arms, and to take one of the torches.  Two knights
placed themselves, one on each side of him, with drawn swords.  The
door was again locked  and barred, and the party proceeded to the
next cell. In less than a quarter of an hour this part of the work
was finished, and D'Aubusson, Sir John Kendall, and the governor,
then took up their station with a party  of knights who, concealed
behind a buttress, were watching the doors of the officials' houses.

Ten minutes later one of these doors was heard to open, and five
dark figures came noiselessly out. They  were allowed to go a short
distance, in order to see if any others followed; but as no others
came out, the  governor stepped forward.

"Whither are you going, at this time of night?" he asked.  There
was a momentary pause, a few hasty words  were exchanged, then the
five men rushed towards him with bared swords or knives; but before
they  reached him the knights poured out from their hiding place.

"We are betrayed," one of the men shouted in Turkish.  "Fight to
the last. Better be killed than tortured and  executed." With a
yell of fury and despair, they rushed upon the knights. So desperate
was their attack that  the latter were forced to use their swords,
which indeed, burning with rage at the treachery of these men,
they were not backward in doing, and in less than a minute the five
traitors lay, with cloven heads, dead on  the pavement.

"It is as well so," D'Aubusson said, looking sternly down upon them;
"perhaps better so, since it has saved  us the scandal of their
trial. We might have learned more from them, but we have learnt
enough, since,  doubtless, they have no accomplices among the
warders, or they would have been with them. Now we will  deal with
the arch traitors.  There is no need for further concealment; the
noise of this fray will assuredly  have been heard by them, for they
will be listening for the sounds that would tell them the slaves
had been  liberated."

Followed by the knights, he went to the door of the house occupied
by the overseers, all of whom were  members of the lower branch
of the Order. It was indeed evident that an alarm had been given
there, for  lights appeared at the windows. As they opened the
door and entered the hall, several half-dressed men  rushed down
the stairs with drawn swords, two of them carrying torches in their
left hands. As the light fell  upon the figures of the grand master
and the knights, they paused in astonishment.

"There is treachery at work in the prison," D'Aubusson said quietly.
"I pray you to collect your comrades  and to assemble here at once."

In a minute or two some twenty officials were gathered in the hall.

"Are all here?" D'Aubusson asked the governor.

The latter counted the men.

"There are two short," he said -- "Pietro Romano and Karl Schumann.
They occupy the same room. Go and  fetch them down, four of you."

The four men nearest to the stairs at once went up with two torches.
They returned in a minute.

"The door is fastened on the inside, and we can obtain no response."

"Fetch an axe and break it in," the grand master ordered. "Sir John
Boswell, do you, with some other  knights, take post without; they
may attempt to escape by the window, though, as we hold the gates,
it  would avail them little. Sir Gervaise Tresham, do you follow
us."

Gervaise, who had been placed with the party watching the house,
followed the grand master and governor  upstairs.  A few blows with
an axe splintered the door; its fastenings gave way, and they entered
the room.  The window was open, and two figures lay prostrate on
the ground near it.

"I half expected this," the grand master said. "They were listening
there. The conflict in the yard told them  that the plot had been
discovered, and as they saw us approaching the house, they dared
not meet the  punishment of their crimes, and have fallen by their
own daggers. Put a torch close to their faces. Sir  Gervaise,
do you recognise in either of these men the official you saw in
conversation with the Greek?"

Gervaise stepped forward and examined the men's faces.

"This is the man," he said, pointing to one of them. "I marked him
so closely that I cannot be mistaken."

"That is Pietro Romano," the governor said; "he was an able officer,
but discontented with his position and  given to quarrelling with
his comrades."

"Have a hole dug and bury them in the prison," D'Aubusson said;
"they have been false to their vows, and  false to their religion.
They have chosen their own mode of death; let them be buried like
dogs, as they are.  But let a careful search be made of their
garments and of this room.  It may be that they have some  documents
concealed which may be of use to us."

The grand master then descended to the hall.

"Members of the Order," he said to the overseers, "your guilty
companions have met death by their own  hands, as the others concerned
in this plot have met theirs by the swords of the knights. It were
well that  this matter were not spoken of outside the prison. The
attempt has been detected, and has failed; but were it  talked of,
it might incite others to repeat the attempt, and possibly with
better success. Now," he went on,  turning to the governor, "our
work is done here. Call up the other warders. Let them take the
men now  prisoners in the rooms, and place them in a dungeon. Let
fresh men be placed on guard, and let all the  knights gather in
the courtyard."

When this was done, and all the knights again assembled, D'Aubusson
said, "Our work is nearly done,  brothers. The traitors are all
dead, and the revolt is at an end. It remains but to capture the
author of this  attempt; but I believe he is already in our hands.
I have given an accurate description of him to Da Veschi,  who
has taken four knights with him, and they probably will catch him
down at the port; if not, he will be  arrested the first thing in
the morning. As to the slaves, they will be so utterly cowed by
the discovery, that  there will be no fear of their repeating the
attempt. I have ordered the officials of the prison to say naught
in  the town of what has taken place. There can, however, be no
concealment among ourselves. I shall, of  course, lay the whole
matter before the council. The fact that a strong body of knights
has, at so late an  hour, started on some unknown mission is, of
course, already known in the auberges of Auvergne and  England.
No concealment of the facts is therefore possible. It is the most
serious attempt at a revolt of the  slaves that has ever taken place,
and will be a warning to us that more vigilance must be exercised.
As it is,  we have only been saved from the loss of our galleys
and slaves by the acuteness of one of the youngest of  our knights,
who, in the first place, noted a suspicious occurrence which would
have been passed by  without attracting a moment's thought by
ninety-nine out of a hundred men. He laid the matter before his
bailiff, Sir John Kendall, who accepted his offer to disguise
himself as a slave, to enter the prison under  circumstances that
would excite no suspicions among the others, and to live and work
among them in order  to ascertain whether there was any plot on
hand. This task -- a painful one, as you may imagine -- he  carried
out, and for two weeks he rowed as a galley slave. His lot was as
hard as that of the others, for, as  he had reason to believe that
some of the officials were concerned in the plot, it was necessary
that all  should be kept in ignorance that he was other than he
seemed to be. Thanks to his perfect knowledge of  Turkish, he was
able to carry his mission through with complete success, and to
obtain full particulars of  the plot we have tonight crushed. The
knight who has performed this inestimable service is Sir Gervaise
Tresham, of the English langue. The action he has performed will
be noted in the annals of the Order as an  example of intelligence
and of the extreme of self sacrifice, as well as of courage;
for his life would have  been assuredly forfeited had the slaves
entertained the slightest suspicion of his real character."

There was a murmur of acclamation among the knights.  Not one of
them but would have freely risked his  life in the service of the
Order, but there were few who would not have shrunk from the idea
of living as a  slave among the slaves, sharing their tasks, and
subject to the orders of men of inferior rank and often  brutal
manners.

The knights now returned to their auberges. It was past midnight,
but at the English house the lamps and  flambeaux were lighted in
the great hall. The servitors were called up, wine placed on the
table, and the  knights discussed the incidents of the evening.

When the meal had concluded, Sir John Kendall said, "Brother knights,
When the grand master bestowed  the honour of secular knighthood
upon this young comrade of ours, he predicted that he would rise
to high  distinction in the Order. I think you will all agree with
me that the prediction is already in a fair way of  being fulfilled,
and that the services he has rendered to the Order justify us, his
comrades of the English  langue, in feeling proud of him.  I drink,
brothers, to his health."

A loud shout rose from the assembled knights, for upon the return
of the party who had been away, the rest  of those at the auberge
had hastily robed themselves and descended to the hall to gather
the news. When the  shout had died away, and the wine cups were
emptied, Gervaise, who was sitting on Sir John Kendall's  right
hand, would gladly have retained his seat, but the bailiff told him
that he must say a few words, and  after standing in embarrassed
silence for a minute he said, "Sir John Kendall, and brother knights,
I can  only say that I am very sensible of the kindness with which
you have been pleased to regard what seems to  me after all to
have been a very ordinary affair. I saw a man, whom I knew to be a
stranger in the Island,  speaking surreptitiously to a slave, and
afterwards saw him conversing with a prison officer.  That naturally
struck me as curious, and I followed the officer, to see to which
prison he belonged. Any one would have  thought, as I did, that such
a thing was strange, if not suspicious, and the only way to find
out whether there  was anything in it was to mix with the slaves;
as I spoke Turkish well enough to do so I asked Sir John  Kendall's
permission to disguise myself. He gave me every assistance, and I
shared their lot for a fortnight.  There was no very great hardship
in that -- certainly nothing to merit the praise that Sir John
Kendall has  been kind enough to bestow on me.  Nevertheless, I am
very glad to have gained your good opinion and  very grateful to
him and to you for drinking to my health."

Then he sat down abruptly.

Sir John Kendall now rose, and the knights, following his example,
betook themselves to their dormitories.

The next morning notices were sent by the grand master to the
bailiffs of the auberges, and the knights of  the grand cross who
happened to be in the Island, to assemble in council. Messages were
also sent to  Gervaise, requesting him to repair at the same hour
to the palace, as the council would probably require his  attendance.

"Oh dear! I wish this was all over," he said to Ralph, as the latter
assisted him to buckle on his armour.

"I don't see anything to sigh about," Ralph said. "I think that
you are the most fortunate fellow in the world.  I do not say that
you have not well deserved it, because it is the tremendous way
you worked at Turkish and  gave up everything else that has enabled
you to do this. Still, there was luck in your noticing that villain
talking to the galley slaves, and then to one of the officers of
the prison. Of course, as the grand master said  last night, it
isn't one in a thousand who would have thought anything more about
it, and I am sure I  shouldn't; so that, and all the rest, is
entirely your own doing. Still, it was a piece of luck that you
noticed  him talking with a slave. Don't think I envy you, Gervaise;
I don't a bit, and I feel as much as any one that  you have well
deserved the honour you have obtained.  Still, you know, it is a
sort of consolation to me that  luck had a little -- just a little
-- to do with it."

"In my opinion luck had everything to do with it," Gervaise said
heartily, "and I feel downright ashamed at  there being such a
fuss made over it. It was bad enough before, merely because I had
hit on a plan for our  escape from those pirates, but this is worse,
and I feel horribly nervous at the thought of having to appear
before the grand master and the council."

"Well, that brown dye will hide your blushes, Gervaise.  I can only
say I wish that I was in your place. By-the-bye, have you heard
that they caught that rascal Greek last night?"

"No, I have not heard anything about it."

"Yes. The knights hid themselves behind a pile of goods on the
wharf. There was no one about, so far as  they could see, but soon
after twelve they saw a figure come up on to the deck of a fishing
boat moored by  the quay. It was the Greek; he stood there for
a minute or two listening, and then went down again; he did  this
five or six times, and at one o'clock they saw him throw up his
arms, as if in despair; he stepped ashore,  and was about to make
his way up into the town when they rushed out and seized him.
There is no doubt  as to what his fate will be. I am sorry to say
that I hear my friend Vrados has been arrested; but there can be  no
doubt about his loyalty, and he will assuredly be able to explain
to the satisfaction of the council how  this man became a resident
at his house."

"I am sorry I met him there, Ralph. It is a very unpleasant thing
to have gone to a house, to have been  received kindly, and then
to be the means of bringing trouble upon it."

"Yes. I feel that a little myself, because I took you there; and
yet I cannot regret it, for if you had not seen  him and taken an
objection to him, you might not have noticed him particularly when
he spoke to one of  the galley slaves. It is certainly curious that
you should have doubted the man, for I have met him there  several
times, and even after your visit with me I could see nothing in
him to justify your dislike."

Gervaise went up to the palace, and while waiting in the great
hall until summoned before the council he  was warmly accosted by
several knights, -- some of whom were quite strangers to him, --
who all joined in  congratulating him on the immense service he had
done to the Order. It was upwards of an hour before he  was called
in.

"The council have received, Sir Gervaise Tresham," the grand master
said, "full details from Sir John  Kendall of the manner in which
you first discovered, and have since followed up the daring plot
by which  the slaves at St.  Pelagius were to have risen, slain the
guards who were faithful, spiked the cannon in the  three water
forts, burnt the merchant shipping, carried off six galleys and
burnt the rest, and in their name I  thank you for having saved
the Order from a great calamity. The members of the council agree
with me that  you have shown an amount of discernment of the highest
kind, and that you are worthy of exceptional  favour and reward
for your conduct. I therefore in my own name appoint you to the
commandery of our  manor of Maltby in Lincolnshire, which, having
fallen vacant, is in my gift; and I release it from the usual  payment
of the first year's revenue. Knowing that you desire to establish
yourself here, the council have, at  my request, decided to make
an exception to the general rule that a knight, on promotion to a
commandery,  must return and take charge of it in two years from
the time the grant is made to him. The commandery will  therefore
be administered by the senior of the knights attached to it.

"The council, on their part, have requested the bailiff of Auvergne,
as grand master of the Fleet, to appoint  you to the command of
the galley now building, and approaching completion. This he has
consented to do,  feeling, as we all feel, that although such an
appointment is unprecedented for a young knight, yet in the  present
case such an exception may well be made. I may add that the Admiral
has -- in order that no knight  greatly your senior should be placed
under your command -- determined that he will appoint to it only
young knights, who will, we are assured, gladly serve under one
who has so distinguished himself, feeling  certain that, under his
command, they will have ample opportunities against the infidels
to prove  themselves worthy of the Order. I may add, also, that
the bailiffs of all the langues promise that they will  select
from among the young knights such as may seem best fitted for
such service, by their skill in warlike  exercises, by their ready
obedience to orders, and good conduct. And I foresee that the
spirit of emulation,  and the desire to show that, though still
but professed knights, they are capable of performing as valiant
deeds as their elders, will make the galley under your command one
of the most successful in the Order.

"As you are aware, it is a stringent rule, which even in so
exceptional a case we should not be justified in  breaking, that a
knight must reside in the Island for five years previous to being
promoted to a  commandery. It is now two months more than that time
since you were received as page to the late grand  master, and in
promoting you to a commandery I have not, therefore, broken the
rule. You may retire, Sir  Gervaise."

Gervaise, overwhelmed by the unlooked for honours thus bestowed
upon him, bowed deeply to the grand  master and the members of the
council, and then retired from the chamber. He passed out of the
palace by a  side door, so as to avoid being accosted by the knights
in the great hall, and took his way out on to the  ramparts, where
he walked up and down for a considerable time before returning to
the auberge. He felt no  hilarity at his promotion. He had never
entertained any ambition for rising to high office in the Order,
but  had hoped only to perform his duty as a true knight, to fight
against the infidels, and some day, if need be,  to die for the
Order. The commandery was, he knew, a rich one, and as its chief he
would draw a  considerable revenue from the estate. This afforded
him no pleasure whatever, except inasmuch as it would  enable him,
in his new command of the galley, to keep a handsome table, and to
entertain well the knights  who served under him.

It seemed to him, however, that the reward and honours were so
far beyond his deserts that he felt almost  humiliated by their
bestowal. The responsibility, too, was great. Would these young
knights, the youngest  of whom could be but a year his junior,
serve willingly under his orders? And, above all, would they be
able to emulate the deeds of experienced warriors, and would the
galley worthily maintain the fame of the  Order?

At the end of two hours he was joined by Ralph Harcourt.

"I have been looking for you everywhere, Gervaise.  You seemed
to have disappeared mysteriously. None  had marked you leave the
council chamber, or knew where you had gone; and after searching
everywhere I  remembered your fondness for walks upon the walls,
so I climbed to the top of St. John's tower and thence  espied you.
Well, I congratulate you most heartily on the honours that have
fallen to your share, especially  that of the command of a new
galley."

"It is too much altogether, Ralph. I feel ashamed at being thus
thrust into a post that ought to be given to a  knight of age and
experience. How can I expect a number of young knights, of whom
well nigh all must be  my seniors in age, to obey me as they would
an older man?"

"What has age to do with it?" Ralph said. "You have shown that you
have a head to think, and, as you  before proved, you have an arm
to strike. Why, every young knight in the Order must feel proud
that one of  their own age has gained such honour. It raises them
all in their own esteem, and you will see that you will  get the
pick among all the professed knights, and of a good many who have
finished their profession, and  are serving here in the hope of
some day getting promotion to a commandery. Not such an one as you
have  got; that, in the ordinary course of things, does not fall
to a knight until he is well on in years, and has  served in many
commanderies of smaller value. I can tell you, directly Sir John
Kendall came back and told  us that you had been appointed commander
of the new galley, and that it was to be manned wholly by  young
knights, there was not one of those serving their profession in
the auberge who did not beg Sir John  to put down his name for it;
and ten or twelve others, myself among them, who have obtained full
knighthood also."

"You don't mean to say that you have put down your name to serve
under me, Ralph? It would be  monstrous."

"I see nothing monstrous in it, Gervaise. As I said just now, years
have nothing to do with it, and, putting  aside our friendship, I
would rather serve under you than under many knights old enough to
be your father.  I don't know whether I shall have the luck to be
one of the chosen, as Sir John said that there were to be  only
seven from each langue, which will make forty-nine -- with yourself
fifty. If I am chosen -- and,  knowing our friendship, I hope that
the bailiff will let me go with you -- it is likely enough I may be
named  your lieutenant, as I shall be the only one beside yourself
who is a secular knight, and am, therefore,  superior in rank to
the rest."

"That would be pleasant indeed, Ralph, though I would rather that
you had been made commander and I  lieutenant; but at any rate,
with you to support me, I shall feel less oppressed by the thought
of my  responsibility."

As Ralph had declared would be the case, the young knights in the
other auberges were as anxious as those  of England to be enrolled
among the crew of the new galley, and the bailiffs had some trouble
in choosing  among the aspirants. Very few were selected outside
the rank of professed knights, and as great pains were  taken to
comply with the grand master's wishes that only young knights of
good conduct and disposition,  and distinguished by their proficiency
in warlike exercises, should be chosen, the crew was in every way a
picked one. Most of them had made one or two of the three months'
voyages in the galleys, though  comparatively few had had the good
fortune to be absolutely engaged with the Moslem pirates.

To the great satisfaction of himself and Gervaise, Ralph Harcourt
was nominated lieutenant of the galley.  The fact that so many had
volunteered impressed all those who were chosen with the sense that
it was at  once an honour and a piece of good fortune to be selected,
and all were determined that the boy galley, as  the elder knights
laughingly termed it, should do honour to the Order.

It was a fortnight before she was launched. Gervaise had heard,
with great satisfaction, that it had been  decided by the council
that no punishment should be inflicted upon the slaves for their
share in the intended  rising at St. Pelagius.  All were guilty,
and there was no means of saying who had taken prominent parts in
the plot. The council felt that it was but natural that they should
grasp at the prospect of freedom, for they  themselves would have
done the same had they been captives of the infidels. Even the
warders and guards  were allowed to go unpunished, although their
offence was a much more serious one. Those who could  have named
the men who had accepted bribes were dead, and the lesson had been
so severe a one that there  was no probability of any again turning
traitors. The author of the rising had been publicly executed.
Seeing  the hopelessness of denial, he had boldly avowed his share
in the matter, and had acknowledged that he  was acting as agent for
the sultan, and had been supplied with ample funds before leaving
Constantinople.

He declared that he was absolutely unable to give any names whatever
of those concerned in the plot, save  those of the two overseers,
as these had undertaken the work of suborning the warders and
guards, though  he admitted that he had on several occasions spoken
to slaves as the gangs were on their way back to the  prison, and
had told them to be prepared to take part in a plan that was on
foot for their rescue from slavery.  The torture had not been, as
was then the usual custom, applied to extort information; partly
because his  story was probable, still more because the grand master
and council did not wish that more publicity should  be given to
the affair, and were glad that it should be allowed to drop without
any further trial of the  delinquents. In the city generally it
was only known that a plot had been discovered for the liberation
and  escape of some of the slaves; and, outside the members of the
Order, none were aware of its extent and  dangerous character. To
the satisfaction of Gervaise and Ralph, Vrados was able to produce
letters and  documents that satisfied the council that he had been
deceived as to the character of the Greek, and was  wholly innocent
in the matter.



CHAPTER XII THE BOY GALLEY


Among those most pleased at the appointment of Gervaise to the command
of the galley was Sir John  Boswell. Ever since the adventure with
the pirates, the knight had exhibited an almost fatherly interest
in  him; had encouraged him in his studies, ridden with him on such
occasions as he had permitted himself a  short holiday, and had,
whenever they were together, related to him stories of war, sieges,
battles, and  escapes, from which he thought the young knight might
gain lessons for his future guidance.

"I doubt, Gervaise," he said one day, as they were riding quietly
along the road, "whether our plan of life is  altogether the
best. We were founded, you know, simply as a body of monks, bound
to devote ourselves  solely to the care of the sick, and to give
hospitality to pilgrims in Palestine. Now this was monkish work,
and men who devoted themselves solely to such a life of charity as
that in our Hospital at Jerusalem, might  well renounce all human
pleasures; but when the great change was made by Master Raymond du
Puy, and  from a nursing body we became a brotherhood in arms, it
seems to me that the vows of celibacy were no  longer needful or
desirable. The crusaders were, many of them, married men, but they
fought no worse for  that. It would have been far better, methinks,
had we been converted into an Order pledged to resist the  infidel,
but without the vows of poverty and of celibacy, which have never
been seriously regarded.

"The garrison here might be composed, as indeed it is now, principally of
young knights, of those who have  not cared to marry, and of the
officers of the Order whose wives and families might dwell here with
them.  This would have many advantages. Among others, the presence
of so many ladies of rank would have the  excellent effect of
discountenancing and repressing extravagances and dissolute habits,
which are but too  common, and are a shame to the Order. Knights
possessing commanderies throughout Europe would be no  worse
stewards for being married men, and scandals, such as contributed
largely to the downfall of the  Templars, would be avoided.

"The sole vow necessary, so far as I can see, would be that knights
should remain unmarried and disposable  at all times for service
until ten years after making their profession, and that afterwards
they should ever be  ready to obey the summons to arms, on occasions
when the safety of Rhodes, or the invasion of any  Christian country
by the Moslems, rendered their services needful, when they would
come out just as the  knights of Richard the Lion Heart went out
as crusaders. I have spent half my life since I joined the Order
in commanderies at home, and a dull life it was, and I was glad
enough to resign my last command and  come out here. Had I been
able to marry, I might now have had a son of your age, whose career
I could  watch and feel a pride in. My life would have been far
happier in England, and in all respects I should be a  better man
than I am now.  Methinks it would strengthen rather than weaken
the Order.  As a fighting body  we should be in no way inferior
to what we are now, and we should be more liked and more respected
throughout Europe, for naturally the sight of so many men leading
a luxurious life in commanderies causes  a feeling against them."

"But I suppose, Sir John, that there is no great difficulty in
obtaining a dispensation from our vows?"

"In this, as in all other matters, everything depends upon interest
or money. Of course, dispensations are not  common; but doubtless
any knight when he had served his term of active service could,
especially if his  request were backed by the grand master, obtain
from the Pope a dispensation of his vows. If he had a  commandery
it would make a vacancy, and give the grand prior, or the grand
master, or the council, in  whosoever's gift it might be, an
opportunity of rewarding services or of gratifying some powerful
family."

"I agree with you that it would have been much better, Sir John.
I can understand that monks, ever living a  quiet life apart from
the world, should be content so to continue; but among a body
of warlike knights there  must be many who, in time, must come to
regret the vows they took when boys. The cadet of a noble  family
might, by the death of elder brothers, come to be the head of
a great family, the ruler over wide  domains. Surely it would be
desirable that such a man should be able to marry and have heirs."

"Doubtless it could be managed in such cases, Gervaise, but it
is a pity that it should have to be managed. I  can see no reason
in the world why a knight, after doing ten years of service here,
should not be free to  marry, providing he takes a vow to render
full service to the Order whenever called upon to do so. Already
the vow of poverty is everywhere broken. Already, in defiance
of their oaths, too many knights lead idle  and dissolute lives.
Already, knights, when in their own countries, disregard the rule
that they shall draw  sword in no cause save that of the Holy
Sepulchre, and, like other knights and nobles, take part in civil
strife or foreign wars. All this is a scandal, and it were better
by far to do away with all oaths, save that of  obedience and
willingness to war with the infidel, than to make vows that all
men know are constantly and  shamelessly broken.

"I am fond of you, Gervaise. I am proud of you, as one who has
brought honour to our langue, and who, in  time, will bring more
honour. I am glad that, so far as there can be between a young
knight and one of  middle age, there is a friendship between us.
But see what greater pleasure it would give to my life were  you
my son, for whom I could lay by such funds as I could well spare,
instead of spending all my  appointments on myself, and having
neither kith nor kin to give a sigh of regret when the news comes
that I  have fallen in some engagement with the infidels. I often
think of all these things, and sometimes talk them  over with
comrades, and there are few who do not hold, with me, that it would
be far better that we should  become a purely military Order, like
some of the military Orders in the courts of the European sovereigns,
than remain as we are, half monk, half soldier -- a mixture that,
so far as I can see, accords but badly with  either morality or
public repute.

"However, I see no chance of such a change coming, and we must be
content to observe our vows as well  as may be, so long as we are
willing to remain monks and try to obtain dispensation from our
vows should  we desire to alter our mode of life. We ought either
to have remained monks pure and simple, spending our  lives in
deeds of charity, a life which suits many men, and against which
I should be the last to say  anything, or else soldiers pure and
simple, as were the crusaders, who wrested the Holy Sepulchre from
the  hands of the infidels. At present, Gervaise, your vocation
lies wholly in the way of fighting, but it may be  that the time
will come when you may have other aims and ambitions, and when the
vows of the Order will  gall you."

"I hope not, Sir John," Gervaise said earnestly.

"You are young yet," the knight replied, with an indulgent smile.
"Some day you may think differently.  Now," he went on, changing
the subject abruptly, "when will your galley be ready?"

"This is my last ride, Sir John. The shipwrights will have finished
tomorrow, and the next day we shall take  possession of her, and
begin to practise, so that each man shall know his duties, and the
galley slaves learn  to row well, before we have orders to sail.
I wish you were going with us, Sir John."

"I should like it, lad, in many respects. It does one good to see
the enthusiasm of young men, and doubtless  you will be a merry party.
But, on the other hand, unless I mistake, you will be undertaking
wild  adventures, and my time for these is well nigh passed. When
the Turk comes here, if he ever comes -- and  of that I have little
doubt -- I shall be ready to take my full share of the fighting;
but I shall seek adventures  no longer, and shall go no more to
sea.  Next only to the bailiff, I am the senior of our auberge,
and -- but  this is between ourselves, lad -- am like to succeed
to the grand priory of England when it becomes vacant,  and if not
I shall, as the grand master has told me, have the offer of the
next high office vacant in the  palace."

Two days later Gervaise and his company of young knights went down
to the port to take part in the launch  of the new galley. This
was the occasion of a solemn ceremony, the grand master and a large
number of  knights being present. A religious service first took
place on her poop, and she was named by the grand  master the
Santa Barbara.  When the ceremony was over, Gervaise was solemnly
invested with the  command of the galley by the grand marshal of
the navy; then the shores were struck away, and the galley  glided
into the water, amid the firing of guns, the blowing of trumpets,
and the cheers of the spectators who  had gathered at the port to
witness the ceremony.

The next morning a gang of galley slaves were marched down. A third
of these had been drawn from the  crews of other galleys, their
places being supplied by new hands. The remainder were taken from
the men  employed on the fortifications. Three weeks were occupied
in teaching the rowers their work, and getting  them well together.
They were a fine crew, for the governor of St. Pelagius, grateful to
Gervaise for the  discovery of the plot, had ordered the overseers
to pick out from the various gangs men specially suited by  age
and strength for the work.

The dye by this time had entirely worn off his face, and although
his hair was still several shades darker  than of old, it differed
even more widely from the ebon hue that it had been when he was in
prison. Thus,  although he recognised three or four men upon the
benches who had been fellow occupants of his cell, he  had no fear
whatever of their detecting in the commander of the galley their
late companion in misfortune.

Only a portion of the knights had been out each day while the crew
were learning to row, as there was but  little for them to learn.
The galley carried no sails, and the knights were soldiers rather
than sailors, and  fought on the deck of their ship, as if defending
a breach, or storming one held by the enemy. Moreover, as  all of
them had already made one or more voyages, they were accustomed to
such duties as they would  have to discharge on board.

All were glad when an order was published for the galley to sail.
On the eve of departure Gervaise was sent  for by the grand master.
The general of the galleys was with him when Gervaise entered the
room. The  bailiff of Auvergne always held the position of grand
marshal, and the bailiff of Italy that of second in  command, with
the title of grand admiral. These officials, however, as heads of
their respective langues,  had many other duties to perform, and
it was only on great occasions that they took any practical share
in  the work of which they were nominally heads. The real control
in all naval questions rested with the  general of the galleys,
who was elected by the council, but on the nomination of the grand
master.

His power when at sea with the fleet was absolute. He could suspend
any officer from duty, and had  unquestioned power of life and
death over the crews. He had been frequently on board the galley
since she  had been launched, and had been pleased with the attention
paid by Gervaise to his duties, and with the  ready manner in which
the young knights carried out his orders.

"Sir Gervaise Tresham," he said, "it is usual, as you know, to
appoint each galley to a certain cruising  ground, to which it is
confined during its three months' absence.  At present there is
a galley on each of  these stations, and as the last relief took
place but a month since, it is better that they should remain at
the  stations allotted to them. I have therefore, after consultation
with his Highness the grand master, decided to  give you a free
hand. You are as likely to meet with pirates in one quarter as in
another, and you will pick  up from vessels you may overhaul news
of their doings, which will enable you to direct your course to
the  point where you will be most useful."

"In the first place, however, you will proceed to the coast of
Tunis. Visconti's galley is already there, but  the coast swarms with
corsairs, and we have had many complaints as to their depredations.
The Court of  Spain has twice represented to us lately that the
pirates have grown so bold that vessels have been carried  off,
even when coasting from one Spanish port to another. Visconti is
specially watching the coast near  Tunis, and you will therefore
perhaps do better to proceed farther west, for every village from
Tunis to  Tangier is little better than a nest of pirates. I should
imagine that you will find ample employment there  during your
three months' cruise. When I say that you are free to choose your
own cruising ground, I do not  mean that you should go up the
Levant, or to the east of the Mediterranean, but that you are not
bound to  keep close along the African coast, but may, should you
obtain any information to warrant your doing so,  seek the pirates
along the shores of Spain, Sardinia, Corsica, or Sicily.

"I need not warn you to act with prudence as well as courage, for
you have proved that you possess both  qualities. Do not allow
yourself to be carried away by the impetuosity of your knights; it
is more often the  duty of a commander to restrain than to encourage
his crew, and with such young blood as you have under  your command
the necessity will be greater than usual. Be kind to your slaves,
but be ever watchful; yet  this I need not tell you.  Maintain
a strict but not over severe discipline. You are all knights and
comrades  of the Order, and equals when on shore, but on board you
are the captain and they are your soldiers. I have  this afternoon
had a meeting of your knights, and have urged upon them very strongly
that, having  volunteered to serve under you, they must obey your
orders as promptly and willingly as if you were the  senior knight
of the Order, and that it behooves them specially upon the present
occasion, when the crew is  composed entirely of young knights,
to show themselves worthy of the honour that has been done to them
by entrusting a galley of the Order to their charge. I told them
I should regard your report of their individual  conduct with the
same attention and respect with which I should that of any other
commander, and that they  might greatly make or mar their future
prospects in the Order by their conduct during the cruise. I
am  convinced, from what I know of you, that you will exercise no
undue harshness, but will act with tact and  discretion, as well
as firmness."

"I will try to do so, your Excellency. I feel that it is a heavy
responsibility and will spare no pains to justify  the unmerited
honour that has been bestowed upon me."

"You have seen that the taking in of stores is complete, and that
nothing is wanting for the voyage?"

"Yes, sir. I stood by while the overseer of stores checked off every
sack and barrel as it came on board. The  water is to be brought
off this evening, and as I was unable to be present, Sir Ralph
Harcourt is there to  count the barrels and see that all are full."

"Goodbye, Sir Gervaise," the grand master said, as the interview
terminated.

"Hitherto you have given me, from the time you reached the Island,
naught but reason for satisfaction at my  nomination of you as
page, and I have no fear that you will fail this time. Remember
that valour, however  great, cannot prevail against overpowering
odds. You had a lesson of that when you served under Ricord,  though
finally the affair turned out well. I do not say, don't attempt
desperate undertakings, but don't  attempt impossible ones.  Be
careful of the lives of your knights. Remember that ere long every
sword may  be of the utmost consequence in the defence of Rhodes,
and that even the capture of pirates may be too  dearly purchased;
but that, at the same time, the honour of the flag of the Order
must be upheld at all  hazards. Ah!" he broke off, seeing a slight
smile on the young knight's face, "you think my orders  contradictory?
It may be so; but you know what I mean, and I fear not that you
will blunder in carrying  them out. Be prudent, and yet not over
prudent. I mean, be not rash, unless there are such benefits to be
obtained as would justify great risk in obtaining them."

On returning to the auberge, Gervaise had a long chat with Ralph.

"I think the admiral's talk with us this afternoon had an excellent
effect, Gervaise. I do not say that every  one was not before
disposed to obey you in all things, willingly and cheerfully; but
he put it so strongly to  them that they had volunteered specially
for service in this galley, knowing well who was to be its  commander,
and the circumstance that the crew was to consist solely of young
knights, and had therefore  specially pledged their honour so
to act that the enterprise should be in all respects a successful
one. To  render it so, obedience was even a greater necessity than
valour. This was the most important of all the  vows taken by the
knights of the Order, and it was only by the strictest and most
unquestioning obedience  on the part of all to the orders of their
superiors, that the work of a vast community could be carried on.
Passing over the fact that you were their superior in rank, both
as being a secular knight and a knight  commander of the Order,
you had been specially appointed by the grand master and council,
as well as by  himself, and that they bestowed upon you while at
sea, and in the absence of any officers of superior rank,  their
full powers and authority. You were, in fact, their representative
and agent, and therefore to be  regarded with the same deference
and respect that would be due to the oldest knight similarly placed.
'Lastly,' he said, in a less serious tone, 'you must remember that
this is an experiment, and, as some think, a  somewhat rash one.
Never before did a galley, manned entirely from among the youngest
of our knights,  put to sea; and you may be sure that, unless
successful, the experiment is not likely to be ever repeated.  You
have been selected from among many other candidates, and you have
not only to justify the choice,  but to uphold the reputation and
honour of the young knights of your Order, by all of whom your doings
will be regarded with special interest, as reflecting credit not
only upon yourselves individually, but as  representatives and
champions of them all.'

"I could see that his words had a great effect. He had placed me
beside him, and I marked their faces as he  spoke.  Each face lit
up at his appeal, and I do not think there was one but silently
registered a vow to do all  in his power to prove himself worthy
of the confidence placed in him and his companions by the grand
master and admiral. I had before no shadow of fear that everything
would not go well.  I knew almost all of  them personally, and if
I myself had had the selection from among the whole body of knights
in the  convent, I could not have made a choice that would have
suited me better. It seems to me that in each  auberge the bailiff has
endeavoured to pick out the seven young knights whom he considered
would most  worthily support the honour of the langue. Still,
confident as I was before, I feel more so now, after the  admiral's
address to us."

"I had no fear either, Ralph, though doubtless the admiral's words
will carry great weight with them. It was  thoughtlessness rather
than anything else that I dreaded; but now that the admiral himself
has spoken to  them, there is no fear that anything will occur to
give us trouble. I have particularly noticed that when we  have
been on board, and have been laughing and chatting together before
we got under way, their manner  changed directly the first order
was given, and that all the commands were carried out with as much
goodwill and alacrity as if they were under Ricord himself."

On the following morning the knights all went on board the Santa
Barbara. Their baggage was carried  down by slaves, and by the
personal servants from each auberge who were to go as their attendants
during  the voyage. The grand master had advanced Gervaise a sum
equal to half a year's income of his  commandery, and with this he
had purchased a stock of the best wines, and various other luxuries,
to  supplement the rations supplied from the funds of the Order to
knights when at sea. Gervaise had to go  round early to the admiral
to sign the receipt for stores and to receive his final orders in
writing. All were,  therefore, on board before him and, when he
arrived, were drawn up in military order to receive him.

Every knight was in full armour, and as, at a word from Ralph,
they drew their swords and saluted the  young commander, Gervaise
felt with a thrill of pleasure and of confidence that with such
a following he  need not fear any encounter with a pirate force,
unless in overwhelming numbers.

The young knights were all, with the exception only of Ralph Harcourt,
between the ages of seventeen and  nineteen, and their young faces,
free in most cases even from the suspicion of a moustache, looked
almost  those of boys. But there was no mistaking the ardour and
enthusiasm in their faces, and the lack of breadth  and weight,
that years alone would give to them, was compensated by skill in
their weapons, acquired by  long and severe training, and by the
activity and tireless energy of youth.

"Knights and comrades," Gervaise said as, after walking through
the double line to the end of the poop he  turned and faced them,
"I am proud indeed to command so gallant a body of knights. The
success of our  expedition depends upon you rather than upon me,
and as I feel assured of your warm cooperation I have  no fear as
to what the result will be, if Dame Fortune will but favour us by
throwing in our way some of  those scourges of the sea in search of
whom we are about to set out. Many of us have already encountered
them, and, fighting side by side with older knights, have borne our
share of the work, while those who have  not done so will, I am
sure, do equally well when the opportunity arrives. We shall not
this voyage have the  encouragement and confidence inspired by the
presence of those who have long and valiantly borne the  standard
of the Order; but, on the other hand, we have to show that we are
worthy of the confidence  reposed in us, and that the young knights
of the Order can be trusted to emulate the deeds of those who  have
rendered the name of the Hospitallers a terror to the infidel."

A shout of approbation greeted the close of his address. Gervaise
then walked forward to the end of the  poop, and looked down upon
the slaves, who, with their oars out, were awaiting the order to
row.

"Men," he said in Turkish, "it is my desire that, while it is necessary
that you should do your work, your lot  shall be no heavier than
can be avoided. You will not be taxed beyond your powers, save
when the enemy  is in sight, or there is supreme need for haste,
but then you must be called upon for your utmost exertions. I  wish
your work to be willing. I abhor the use of the lash, and so long
as each man does his fair quota of  work, I have given the strictest
orders that it shall never be used. I have, at my own cost, made
provision  that your daily rations shall be improved while under
my command. Meat will be served out to you daily,  when it can be
obtained, and for those of you who hold that the strict tenets of
your religion may be relaxed  while engaged in such severe labour,
a ration of wine will also be served out; and such other indulgences
as  are compatible with the discipline and safety of the ship, will
also be granted to you."

There was a murmur of gratitude among the slaves.  Gervaise then
gave the order to row, and the galley  started on her voyage. The
knights had now fallen out from their ranks, and were soon laughing
and talking  gaily. Being all of noble families and knightly rank,
there was, except when on actual duty, a tone of  perfect equality
and good fellowship prevailing among them. French was the common
language, for as the  Order was of French foundation, and three
of the seven langues belonged to that country, most of the high
dignitaries being chosen from their ranks, it was natural that
the French language should be the general  medium of communication
between them.

Until noon the slaves rowed steadily and well. Work was then stopped,
for there was scarce a breath of  wind stirring the water. Even
under the awning that had, as the sun gained power, been erected
over the  poop, the heat was oppressive. The knights had all divested
themselves of their armour, and most of them  retired below for
a siesta.  As soon as the slaves stopped rowing, an awning, which
Gervaise had  purchased, and which was rolled up under the break
of the poop, was, to their astonishment, drawn over  them.

"Don't you think you are spoiling your slaves, Sir Gervaise?" one
of the Spanish knights asked doubtfully.

"On the contrary, Sir Pedro, I hope that I am improving them. You
have not worked as a galley slave, but I  have, and I can assure
you that I used to feel the hours when we were lying broiling in
the sun, doing  nothing, much more trying than those during which
I was at work. I used to be quite giddy and sick with  the heat,
and on getting out the oars again had scarce strength to work them.
But this is not the most  important point. In port the slaves always
sleep in the prison, but at sea they must rest on their benches;
and  to do so with clothes soaked with the heavy dew must be a
severe trial, and most prejudicial to the health.   The awning cost
but a few ducats, and I reckon that, putting aside the comfort to
the slaves, it will be very  speedily repaid by their better health
and capacity for labour. When away in the galley with Sir Louis
Ricord, I used to feel the greatest pity for the unfortunate wretches
when at daybreak, in their drenched  clothes, and shivering with
cold and wet, they rose to commence their work. I then took a vow
that if ever I  should come to command a galley I would provide an
awning for the slaves."

Two or three of the knights standing by expressed their warm approval of
what Gervaise said. There was,  in those days, but little of that
sentiment of humanity that is now prevalent, and slaves were everywhere
regarded as mere beasts of burden rather than as human beings.
When, however, they had the question put  to them, as Gervaise had
done, they were ready to give a hearty agreement, although it was
the utilitarian  rather than the humanitarian side of the question
that recommended it to them. After three hours' rest the  journey
was renewed, and just at nightfall the galley anchored off an islet
lying to the north of Carpathos.

While the servants were laying the tables along the poop for
the evening meal, Gervaise went down to see  that his orders were
carried out regarding the food for the slaves.  They were already
eating their bread and  meat with an air of satisfaction that showed
how warmly they appreciated the unusual indulgence, while  there
were few indeed who did not hold up their drinking horns as a servant
passed along between the  benches with a skin of wine. Gervaise
spoke to many of them.

"Ah, my lord," one of them said, "if we were always treated like
this, slavery would be endurable. For ten  years have I rowed in
Christian galleys, but never before has an awning been spread to
keep off the sun or  the dew. We shall not forget your kindness,
my lord, and will row our hardest right cheerfully when you  call
upon us for an effort."

There was a murmur of assent from the galley slaves around.

"May Allah be merciful to you, as you are merciful to us!" another
slave exclaimed. "The blessing of those  whom you regard as infidels
can at least do you no harm."

"On the contrary, it can do me good," Gervaise said.  "The God you
Moslems and we Christians worship is,  I believe, the same, though
under another name."

Gervaise had, indeed, during his long conversations with Suleiman
Ali, often discussed with him the matter  of his faith, and had
come, in consequence, to regard it in a very different light to that
in which it was  viewed by his companions. There was faith in one
God at the bottom of both Mohammedanism and  Christianity. The
Mohammedans held in reverence the lawgivers and prophets of the Old
Testament, and  even regarded Christ Himself as being a prophet.
They had been grievously led away by Mahomet, whom  Gervaise regarded
as a false teacher; but as he had seen innumerable instances of the
fidelity of the  Moslems to their creed, and the punctuality and
devotion with which the slaves said their daily prayers,  exposed
though they were to the scorn and even the anger of their taskmasters,
he had quite lost, during his  nine months of constant association
with Suleiman Ali, the bigoted hatred of Mohammedanism so universal
at the time. He regarded Moslems as foes to be opposed to the death;
but he felt that it was unfair to hate  them for being hostile to
Christianity, of which they knew nothing.



CHAPTER XIII THE FIRST PRIZES


After leaving the slaves, Gervaise joined his companions on the
poop. They were engaged in an animated  discussion as to whether it
was advisable to grant indulgences to slaves. The majority approved
of the steps  Gervaise had taken, but some asserted that these
concessions would only lead them to look for more, and  would create
discontent among the crews of other galleys not so favoured.

"Well, comrades," said Gervaise, "I think that so far I am better
qualified than any of you to give an  opinion; but it may be that
it will fall to the lot of some of you to be a slave in Turkish
hands. In that case, I  can affirm with certainty, that you will
keenly appreciate any alleviation, however small, of your lot. You
must remember that the one feeling of the slave is dull despair.
Death is the only relief he has to look  forward to. Do you think
that a man so feeling can do his best, either at an oar or at any
other kind of work?  I am sure it would not be so in my case. But
if you brighten his life a little, and show him that he is not
regarded as merely a brute beast, and that you take some interest
in him, he will work in a different spirit.  Even viewed from
a merely monetary point of view it must pay well to render him
as content as possible  with his lot. You know how great is the
mortality among the slaves -- how they pine away and die from no
material malady that can be detected, but simply from hopelessness
and weariness of life, aided,  undoubtedly, in the case of the
galley slaves, by sleeping in the damp night air after an exposure
all day to  the full heat of the sun. This brings an answer to your
second objection.  Undoubtedly it might cause  discontent among
the slaves of other galleys when they hear that others are treated
better than themselves.  But I hope that if, on our return, we bring
back all our slaves in good condition and health, the contrast
between their appearance and that of the slaves in most other
galleys will be so marked that the admiral  may consider it would
be well to order awnings to be fixed to all the vessels of the Order,
and even to grant  to all slaves, when away on voyages, the little
indulgences I have given them here. The expense would be  very
trifling, and it would certainly add a great deal to the average
life of a slave, and would render him  capable of better work.
There is another advantage. If the Turks learn that their countrymen
in our hands  are treated with a certain amount of kindness and
consideration, it might lead them to act similarly to those  of
our Order who may be unfortunate enough to fall into their hands."

"There is a great deal in what you say, Sir Gervaise," one of the
knights, who had before taken the opposite  point of view, said.
"There is no reason why our galley should not be a model one,
and though, like enough,  the seniors will laugh at our making
innovations, D'Aubusson is a reformer, and will certainly support
anything that he sees to be beneficial, from whatever quarter it
comes."

Supper was now served, and the young knights were well pleased with
the entertainment provided for  them. It was the principal meal of
the day. Their fast was broken by a glass of wine, a manchet of
bread,  and fruit soon after rising. At eleven o'clock they sat
down to a more substantial meal; but in that climate  the heat was
at that hour considerable, and as there were duties to be performed,
there was no sitting long at  table. At supper the day's work was
over, their appetite was sharpened by the cool evening breeze, and
the  meal was hearty and prolonged. After it was concluded, several
of the knights brought up from below viols  and other instruments
of music; for the ability to accompany the voice with such an
instrument was  considered an essential part of the education of
a knight.

For some hours the songs and romances, so popular at the time,
were sung in the various languages  represented on board; then the
knights, one by one, went down to their sleeping places, until only
the seven  knights of the langue of Auvergne, who were to watch the
first night, remained on deck. Five of these  wrapped themselves
in their mantles and lay down on the benches. One of the others
descended to the  waist, walked along the plank between the lines
of sleeping slaves, and took up his place in the bow, while  the
other paced up and down the poop, the fall of his footsteps being
the only sound to break the silence  that reigned throughout the
ship.

In the morning, as soon as the knights had all taken a plunge in
the sea, the oars were got out, and the  galley proceeded on her
way. Passing through the islands and skirting the southern shore of
Greece, she  continued her course west. Malta was sighted, but they
did not put in there. Pantellaria was passed, and in a  fortnight
after leaving Rhodes, Cape Bon, at the entrance to the bay of
Tunis, was sighted. Until Greece  was left behind them, the nights
had generally been spent in small ports, where supplies of fresh
meat, fish,  and fruit, were obtainable. So far no incident had
marked the voyage. The weather had continued fine, and  they had
heard nothing, from ships they had fallen in with, of any Moslem
pirates having been seen. A few  hours, however, after sighting
the coast of Africa, a dark object was seen ahead.

"It is a ship of some sort," Ralph said; "but her masts have gone.
It may be that she is a merchantman that  has been captured and
sacked by the Moorish pirates."

Orders were given to the rowers to quicken their pace, and in little
over an hour they were alongside the  hull. As soon as the vessels
were close enough for those on the poop of the galley to look
down on to the  deck of the other craft, it was seen that Ralph's
suppositions were correct. Two bodies lay stretched upon it.  One
was crushed under the fallen mast; the other lay huddled up in a
heap, a cannon ball having almost torn  him asunder. The knights
leapt on to the deck as soon as the galley ran alongside. Gervaise
made first for  the man lying beneath the mast; as he came up to
him, the sailor opened his eyes and murmured, "Water!"  Gervaise
called out to one of the servants to bring water from the galley,
and, as soon as it came, poured  some between the man's lips, and
the knights by their united efforts lifted the mast from across
his body. It  was evident, however, that he had but a short time
to live, and the dew of death was on his face. After a few  minutes
he rallied a little, and looked gratefully at his rescuers.

"You have been attacked by pirates," Gervaise said.  "Was there
one galley, or two?"

"Three galleys," the man replied in a faint whisper.

"Do you know where they were from?"

"Tripoli."

"How long ago?"

"It was about three hours after sunrise when we saw them coming
up," the man said, his voice gaining in  strength, as some wine
they gave him took effect. "It was useless to fight, and I hauled
down our flag, but  in spite of that one of the pirates fired a
broadside, and one of the shot hit the mast and brought it down,
and  I was crushed under it. They boarded us, took off all the crew
as captives, and emptied the hold; I knew that  I was done for,
and begged them to kill me; but they paid no attention. I know a
little of their language, and  as I lay there I caught something of
what they were saying; they are bound for the Island of Sardinia,
where  they have a rendezvous, and are to join a great gathering
of their consorts. I don't know the name of the  place, but it is
on the east coast. More water!"

Gervaise knelt to pour some water between his lips, when he gave
a sudden cry, a shudder ran through his  frame, and he was dead.

"Let us return on board, gentlemen," Gervaise said, rising to his
feet. "We can do nothing here."

As soon as he regained the deck of the galley, he signed to Ralph
to follow him below.

"Now, Ralph," he said, "this is one of those cases in which we have
to decide whether we ought or ought  not to be prudent. From what
that poor fellow said, the pirates have about five hours' start
of us, and as they  can have no idea that they are pursued, we can
doubtless overtake them before they reach Sardinia. The  question
is, ought we to pursue them at once, or ought we to coast along
until we find Visconti's galley?  Three of these Tripoli pirates,
crowded as they always are with men, would prove serious opponents,
yet  we might engage them with a fair hope of victory. But we
may be seriously disabled in the fight, and  should be, perhaps,
unable to carry the news to Genoa that there are many pirate ships
gathering on the  coast of Sardinia to prey upon their commerce."

"We might be days, or even weeks, before we light upon Visconti's
galley, Gervaise, and even when we  found it, he might not consider
himself justified in leaving the coast where he is stationed. Besides,
while  we are spending our time looking for him, the pirates will
be committing terrible depredations. It must be a  big expedition,
under some notorious pirate, or they would never venture so far
north."

"Then you think that I should be justified in pursuing them alone.
It is a fearful responsibility to have to  decide."

"I think so, Gervaise. There is no saying what misfortunes might
happen if we did not venture to do so."

"Very well then, so be it. But before deciding finally on so grave
a matter, I will lay it before the company."

"There is no doubt as to what their decision will be," Ralph said,
with a smile.

"Perhaps not, Ralph; but as they will be called upon to risk their
lives in a dangerous enterprise, it is as well  that they should
have a say in the matter."

When they returned on to the poop, there was an expression of
eagerness and excitement on the faces of the  young knights which
showed how anxiously they had been awaiting the result of the
conference below.  Gervaise stepped on to a bench, and motioned to
them to close up round him.

"Comrades," he said, "although the responsibility of whatever
course may be taken must rest upon my  shoulders, yet I think it
but right that, as a general before a battle often calls a council
of war to assist him  with its advice, so I should lay before you
the two courses open to us, and ask your opinion upon them. Sir
Ralph Harcourt and I are of one mind in the matter, but as the
decision is a grave one we should be loath to  act upon it without
your concurrence."

He then repeated the alternatives as he had laid them before Ralph.
"Now," he went on, "as you see, there is  grave danger, and much
risk in the one course; but if successful its advantages are obvious.
On the other  hand, the second plan is more sure, more prudent, and
more in accordance with the instructions I have  received. I ask
you to let me know frankly your opinion on the subject. If your
view agrees with ours,  although it will not relieve me from the
responsibility of deciding, it will at least, in the event of things
turning out badly, be a satisfaction to know that the course had
your approval, and that it was your desire,  as well as ours, that
we should undertake it. First, then, let all who are in favour of
following the pirates go  to the starboard side of the deck, while
those who are in favour of joining Visconti, and laying this serious
matter we have discovered before him, move to the larboard side."

There was a rush of the knights to the right, and not one moved to
the other side.

"Your decision is the same as ours," Gervaise said. "To the north,
then! If there is great peril in the  adventure, there is also
great honour to be gained."

The knights gave a shout of satisfaction at finding that their
choice was also that of the officers.

"Lay her head to the north," Gervaise said to the pilot.  Then he
went to the end of the poop, and ordered  the slaves to row on. "Row
a long, steady stroke, such as you can maintain for many hours. We
have a long  journey before us, and there is need for haste. Now
is the time for willing work."

The oars dipped into the water, and the galley was soon moving
along at a much faster pace than that at  which they had performed
the journey from Rhodes. The slaves had not, from their benches,
been able to  see what had passed on board the dismantled vessel,
but from the order and the change of course, they had  no doubt
that the knights had obtained some clue to the direction taken by
the corsairs who had captured  and sacked the ship.

"There is but little wind," Gervaise said to Ralph, "and their
sails will be of slight use to them; therefore we  shall go fully
three feet to their two. It is quite possible that we may not catch
sight of them, for we cannot  tell exactly the course they will
take. We shall steer for Cape Carbonara, which is some hundred
and thirty  miles distant. If we do not see them by the time we
get there, we shall be sure that we have passed them on  the way,
unless, indeed, a strong wind should spring up from the south.
However, I hope that we shall catch  sight of them before that,
for we shall be able from our lookout to discover their masts and
sails some eight  or ten miles away, while they will not be able
to see us until we are within half that distance. They cannot  be
more than twenty miles away now, for the light breeze will aid them
but little, and as they will see no  occasion for haste, they will
not be rowing at their full power, with so long a passage before
them."

Already, indeed, one of the knights had perched himself on the seat
at the top of a low mast some fifteen  feet above the poop, that
served as a lookout.

"You can see nothing yet, I suppose, Cairoli?"

"No; the line of sea is clear all round."

It was indeed some four hours before the knight on the lookout cried
that he could make out three dark  specks on the horizon. Gervaise
at once ascended to the lookout, by the ladder that was fixed
against the  post.

"They are making to the left of the course we are taking.  Turn
her head rather more to the west. That will  do. They are directly
ahead now." He then came down to the deck again. "I would that we
had seven or  eight more hours of daylight, Ralph, instead of but
three at the outside.  However, as we know the course  they are
taking, we are not likely to miss them, for as we shall not be near
enough for them to make us out  before the sun sets, there will
be no chance of their changing it. Do you think they will row all
night?"

"I should not think so. If the land were nearer they might keep on
until they make it, but as they have had  no wind since daylight,
they will lie on their oars until morning.  You see, at sunset
they will still be some  eighty miles from Cape Carbonara, and the
slaves could not possibly row that distance without rest; so that
if we keep on we may take them by surprise."

"That is what I have been thinking, Ralph, but it would be well
not to attack them until nearly daybreak.  We should capture one
galley easily enough; but the others, being ignorant of our force,
might make off in  different directions, and we might lose both of
them. If, on the other hand, we could fall upon them a short  time
before daylight, we should be able to keep them in sight, and,
even if they separated, they would soon  come together and continue
their course, or, as I hope, when they see that we are alone, bear
up and fight  us. I think that our best plan will be to row on
until it is dark, then give the slaves six hours' rest, and after
that go on quietly. If we can make them out, which we may do if
they have lights on board, we will stop,  and wait until it is the
hour to attack them. If we miss them, we will row on to Sardinia
and lie up, as we  proposed, until they come along."

"I think that will be a very good plan, Gervaise."

Before sunset the three pirate ships could be clearly made out from
the deck, but the pilot judged them to be  fully ten miles away.
Half an hour later the slaves were told to cease rowing. Gervaise
had ordered the  cooks to prepare them a good meal, and this was
at once served, together with a full ration of wine. As soon  as
they had consumed it, they were told to lie down and sleep, as at
one o'clock the galley would be again  under way.

The knights' supper was served below, as lights on the poop might
be made out, should a lookout be placed  by the corsairs in their
tops.

"We had better follow the example of the galley slaves," Gervaise
said, rising as soon as the meal was  finished, "and, with the
exception of Spain, who is on watch, turn in to sleep till we are
off again. All of  you will, of course, don your armour on rising."

At the appointed hour the galley was again under way.  There was
not a breath of air, and before starting,  pieces of cloth were
wrapped round the oars at the rowlocks to deaden the sound, which
might otherwise  have been heard at a considerable distance on so
still a night. After an hour and a half's rowing, the knight  on
the lookout said that he could see a light some distance ahead.
The pilot, an experienced old sailor,  joined him, and speedily
descended to the poop again.

"It is a ship's light," he said. "I should say that it was a lantern
on board the ship of the captain of the  expedition, and is shown
to enable the other two to keep near him. I cannot say how far it
is away, for I do  not know at what height it hangs above the water;
but I should imagine, from the feebleness of the light,  that it
must be some two miles distant."

As soon as the light had been noticed, the slaves had been ordered
to cease rowing, and they were now told  that they would not be
required again for fully two hours. When the first gleam of dawn
appeared in the  east they were called to their work again. The
lantern was still burning, and, in a quarter of an hour, the  knights
on the poop were able, in the broadening light, to make out three
shadowy forms some two miles  ahead of them. They decreased this
distance by more than half before they could discern any signs of
life or  motion on board. Then a sudden stir was apparent; they
could hear shouts from one vessel to another, oars  were thrust
out, and an effort made to get the heads of the ships in the same
direction, so as to catch the  light breeze that had just sprung
up.

The moment he saw that the galley was discovered, Gervaise shouted
down to the slaves to row their  hardest, and told the pilot
to steer for the ship farthest to the east.  She was some four or
five hundred yards  from her nearest consort, and the same distance
separated that vessel from the third craft.

"We shall have time to carry her, Ralph, before the others come
to her assistance, and they will only arrive  one at a time. If we
were to lie alongside the middle craft, which is probably that of
the chief, as it is she  that has the light burning, we might have
the other two upon us before we had done with her, for she is
evidently the largest, and most likely the strongest handed, of
them."

The leader of the pirates evidently saw that there was no chance
of evading the fight. A flag was run up to  the masthead of his
ship, and the three vessels began to endeavour to turn, so as to
meet the galley. The  operation, however, took some time. In the
confusion, orders were misunderstood, and instead of all the  slaves
on one side rowing whilst those on the other side backed, all order
was lost, and long before the craft  for which the galley was making
had got round, the latter was upon her.

"Shall I ram her, Sir Gervaise?" the pilot asked.

"No; we might damage ourselves; besides, I do not want to sink her.
Sheer away the oars on one side!"

The galley carried eight guns -- three on each side of the poop,
and two forward; and these had been loaded  with small pieces of
iron. A few shots had been fired by the pirates, but, owing to the
confusion that  prevailed on board, the guns were discharged so
hurriedly that the shot either flew overhead or passed wide  of
the galley. Excited as the young knights were, and eager for the
fray, a general laugh broke out as the  galley swept along by the
pirate ship, breaking many of her oars, and hurling all the slaves
who manned  them backwards off their benches. A moment later the
guns poured their iron contents among the pirates  who clustered
thickly on the forecastle and poop, and as the vessels grated
together the knights sprang on  board the corsair.

The members of the English langue had each been provided with short
pieces of rope, and before joining  their companions in the fray
they lashed the vessels together, side by side. The fight was a
very short one.  France and Auvergne, led by Ralph Harcourt, boarded
at the bow, the other five langues at the poop; and so  impetuous
was their onset that the pirates, who had still scarce recovered
from their surprise at being  hastily aroused from sleep to repel
the attack of the foe who had so suddenly sprung out from the
darkness  upon them, offered but a feeble resistance.  Many threw
themselves overboard, and swam to the ship  nearest to them; others
were cut down; and the rest flung away their arms, and cried for
quarter.

All who did so were, without the loss of a minute's time, thrown
down into the hold of their ship, and the  hatches secured over them.
It had before been arranged that Ralph should take the command of
the corsair,  having with him France, Auvergne, and Germany. As
soon, therefore, as the captives were fastened below,  Gervaise
called the knights of the other four langues back to the deck of
the galley. The lashings were cast  off, she was pushed from the
side of the prize, and the oars were got out. There was no time
to be lost, for  the largest of the three pirate ships, which had,
directly it was seen that her consort was captured, poured  two
heavy broadsides into the prize, was now approaching -- rowing but
slowly, however, for the third  vessel to come up.

She was but a hundred yards away when the galley swept round the
bow of the prize and advanced to meet  her. As she did so, Ralph
discharged the eight guns of the prize, which he had at once
reloaded, into the  bow of the corsair, the shot raking the crowded
deck from end to end. When but a few yards distant, the  two bow
guns of the galley poured in a shower of missiles, and a moment
later she ran alongside the pirate,  the poop guns, as before,
preparing the way for the boarders. But no sooner had they leapt
on deck than  they were met by the pirates, headed by their captain.

Gervaise had specially charged the knights not to allow themselves
to be carried away by their ardour. "We  are sure to be greatly
outnumbered, and, when we first spring on board, we must cut our
way across the  deck, and then form ourselves in a double or treble
line across it, and, so fighting, gradually force them  before us."

This, in spite of the efforts of the pirates, was accomplished,
and, once formed, the corsairs strove in vain to  break through
the wall of steel. For a time, however, no forward movement could
be made, so furious were  the attacks upon them, led by the pirate
chief. Several times breaches were made in the front rank, but
the  knights behind each time bore back the assault, and restored
the line. The knights had won their way half  along the poop when
a yell of exultation rose from the corsairs as the third of their
vessels rowed up on the  other side of the galley, and her crew
sprang on board it. Gervaise called the knights of the second line
from their places, and ranged them along the bulwark, to prevent
the Moors from boarding from the poop  of the galley.

Then for a moment he looked round. The prize was creeping up, and
was a length or two away, coming up  alongside. Its approach was
also noticed by the pirates, who, with wild shouts, flung themselves
upon their  opponents. Gervaise sprang forward to take the place
of a young Italian knight, who staggered back, with  his helmet
cleft by a heavy blow from the keen yataghan of the pirate captain.
The corsair, shouting his war  cry of "Allah!" sprang with the bound
of a wild cat upon Gervaise; his weapon descended on his uplifted
guard, and shore right through the stout blade. With a shout of
triumph, the corsair raised his arm to repeat  the blow; but Gervaise
in turn sprang forward, and struck with all his force with the
pommel of his sword  on the forehead of his opponent. The latter
fell as if shot, his weapon dropping from his hand beside him.

Dismayed at the fall of their leader, his followers recoiled for
a moment. Another tall pirate sprang forward  to take his place,
and, shouting to them to follow, was about to throw himself upon
Gervaise, when a gun  crashed out close alongside. A storm of iron
swept away the front line of Moors, and the shout of "St.  John!"
"St. John!" rose above the din. It was one of the bow guns of the
prize, and as she swept along gun  after gun poured its contents
among the pirates.

"Do you clear the galley, Ralph. We can manage here now," Gervaise
said, as Ralph leapt on board. The  latter, followed by his party
of knights, rushed across the poop, and sprang on to the galley
among the  pirates, who had been striving in vain to break through
the line of defenders.  Gervaise called to his party to  follow him,
and, taking the offensive, fell upon the remnant of the corsairs
who still held the forward end of  the poop.

The discharge of the cannon at such close quarters had wrought
terrible havoc among them, and the pirates,  with but slight
resistance, turned, and either ran down the ladder or leapt into
the water. The knights  followed them forward among the benches
of the rowers, who cheered loudly in many tongues as they  passed
them. At the forecastle the Moors made another stand, but the
knights forced their way up, and in  two minutes all was over.

"Now to the aid of our comrades!" Gervaise shouted, as the last of
the corsairs was struck down.

Ralph's party had indeed cleared the poop of the galley, but they
in vain endeavoured to climb up on to that  of the third pirate
ship, whose superior height gave a great advantage to its defenders.
Gervaise leapt down  on to the bow of the galley, followed by the
knights, and then ran aft until he could climb into the waist of
the pirate. So intent were the corsairs upon defending the poop
that they did not see what was going on  elsewhere, and Gervaise
had obtained a fair footing before he was noticed. Then a number of
men ran  down and attacked his party. But it was too late, for the
whole of the knights had, by this time, leaped on  board. Their
assailants were forced back, and, pressing close upon them, the
knights gained the poop before  the main body of the pirates were
aware of their coming.

Warned by the shouts and shrieks of their comrades that they had
been taken in the rear, the Moslems who  were defending the side
of the poop wavered for a moment.  Ralph took advantage of their
hesitation, and  sprang on board, his companions pouring in after
him. There was a stern and desperate fight. The Moslems  fought
with the fury of despair, disdaining to ask or accept quarter. A
few leapt overboard, preferring death  by drowning to that by the
swords of the Christians; but the great majority died fighting to
the last. A shout  of triumph rose from the knights as the last of
the Moslems fell.

The first impulse of all of them was to take off their helmets in
order to breathe the fresh air, and for a  while they all stood
panting from their exertions.

"Nobly and gallantly done, comrades!" Gervaise exclaimed. "This is
indeed a victory of which we have all  a right to be proud. Now,
the first thing is to free the slaves of their shackles; there
are many white faces  among them.  Let our langue look after the
wounded, while the released captives clear the decks of the  bodies
of the fallen pirates."

It took an hour's hard work to knock off the chains of the slaves.
The greater portion of them were  Christians -- Greeks, Italians,
Spaniards, and French, who had been captured in various raids by
the  corsairs; and among them were the crew of the ship that had
been overhauled by the galley on the previous  day. Besides these,
there were a few Moslems who had been sentenced to labour in the
galleys for various  crimes.

Among the Christians, the joy at their liberation was intense. Some
laughed, some cried, others were too  overcome to speak coherently.
Among the rest were found, to the intense pleasure of their rescuers,
three  knights of the Order who had for years been missing. They
had been taken prisoners on an island at which  the galley to which
they belonged had touched. Many of the knights had landed, and three
of them, all  belonging to the langue of Italy, had wandered away
from the rest, and had not returned. A search had been  made for
them, and it was discovered that a struggle had taken place. As there
were no marks of blood, it  was supposed that they were suddenly
pounced upon by a party of hidden marauders, who had been  watching
them from some hiding place, and had thrown themselves upon the
knights before they had had  time to draw their swords. Following
the trail by bushes broken down, and plants crushed under foot,
it was  found to lead to a creek on the other side of the island.
Here there were signs that a craft had been  anchored, as there
were the ashes of fires, fragments of food, and other matters,
scattered about on the  shore. Hours had passed before the knights
had been missed, and therefore the craft in which they had been
carried off was long out of sight. Letters were written by the
grand master to the Pasha of Syria, to the  Emperor of Egypt, and
to the Bey of Tunis, offering to ransom the knights, but all replied
that they were  unaware of any such captives having been landed.

An attempt had then been made to ascertain whether they had been
carried to Tripoli; but the bey had little  authority over the
various tribesmen along the coast, and only replied that no such
captives had been sold in  the city.  Thus all hope of ransoming
them had died away, and their names were inscribed in the list of
those who had fallen into the hands of the infidels, but of whose
subsequent fate no clue could be obtained.

All were greatly emaciated, and their faces showed signs of the
sufferings they had undergone. The young  knights were all familiar
with their names, but personally none had known them, for they had
been carried  off two or three months before Gervaise and Ralph
Harcourt had arrived at Rhodes.

All three had struggled desperately to break their chains while the
fight was going on, and had, as soon as  the contest was decided,
risen to their feet and shouted the battle cry of the Order; then,
overcome by their  emotions, they sank down upon their benches,
and remained as if in a stupor until the knights, who had  hurried
first to them, struck off their fetters. Then the three men grasped
each other's hands, while tears  streamed down their cheeks.

"It is no dream, comrades," one of them said, in a hoarse voice.
"We are free again. Let us first return  thanks to God for our
release, and then we can thank these our brothers."

The three knights knelt at the benches where they had toiled and
suffered, and hid their faces in their hands.  No sounds came from
their lips, but their stifled sobs and the heaving of their naked
shoulders, seamed and  scarred by the strokes of their taskmasters'
whips, told the young knights, who stood unhelmeted and silent
around, how deep was their emotion. Then they rose.

"I am Fabricius Caretto," one said; "this is Giacomo Da Vinci; this
Pietro Forzi: all knight commanders of  the Order, and now for six
years prisoners in the hands of these corsairs. Assuredly no one
would know us,  so changed are we." He looked round inquiringly
for a familiar face. "Your commander must surely be a  comrade of
ours?"

"We know all your names," Gervaise said, coming forward, "though
none of us reached the convent until  after your capture. I have
the honour to command this galley.  My name is Gervaise Tresham,
and I have  for my lieutenant Sir Ralph Harcourt. All of us, glad
as we are at the capture we have effected of these  three corsairs,
are still more pleased that we should have been the means of rescuing
three noble knights of  our Order from captivity. Now, I pray you
first of all to accompany me on board the galley, where we will  do
all we can to make you forget the sufferings you have gone through.
After you have bathed, and reclad  yourselves, I will present to
you the knights my comrades, amongst whom are seven of your own
langue.   Three of these I will tell off to see to your comfort, for,
as you will understand, I have my hands full indeed  at present."

"First, before all things, Sir Knight, let me express to you all
our deep gratitude and our admiration of the  gallant deed that you
have accomplished in thus, single handed, capturing three vessels
belonging to the  fiercest and most dreaded of the corsairs of
Tripoli. God bless you all, sirs" -- and his voice broke again --
"for the deed you have done, and for bringing us out of this living
hell!"

Gervaise called to three of the Italian knights, and, followed by
them and the released captives, led the way  to the galley. Here
he left them in charge of their countrymen.  "Give them each a
draught of old Cyprus,  and something to eat," he said aside to one
of the knights; "they sorely need refreshment before aught else,
for, as you see, they are well nigh dazed with this unlooked for
change. I will put out clothes enough for  one of them; the others
you must supply for the present from your stores. Now I must be
off."

There was indeed much to be done. Four of the knights were told
off to attend upon the most urgent cases  among their own wounded.
Only two of their number had been killed outright, but there were
four serious  cases among the wounded, while eight or ten others
had received wounds that required bandaging and  attending to. As
fast as the slaves' fetters were struck off, food and wine were
given to them, together with  such garments as could be found
at the moment. Then the bodies of the fallen pirates were thrown
overboard, while the wounded were attended to, and the released
Christians were divided equally between  the three prizes. To
each of these the knights of one of the langues were told off, the
seniors being  appointed to the command. There were in all some
ninety Christian captives on board the three ships. Thus  each
vessel had a complement of seven knights and thirty Christians, and
to these were added ten of the  thirty Moslems found at the oars,
and fifteen of the pirates to whom quarter had been given.

It was past noon before all these arrangements had been made, and
during the time so occupied, the ships  lay idly side by side,
drifting slowly before the wind, the sails having been lowered as
soon as the struggle  was over. Up to this time, the knights had
been too busily engaged to think of food, but they were right glad
when they were summoned to a meal on board the galley.

Gervaise found the three knights in the cabin, dressed in the usual
attire of the Order. They presented a very  different appearance,
indeed, to that which they wore when he had first seen them. They
had bathed, and  combed their matted hair, which was alone sufficient
to transform them, but the feeling that they were once  more free
men, and knights of an honoured Order, had done even more to effect
the change; and although  they looked thin and worn, the martial
bearing had come back naturally as they donned their knightly robes
and buckled on swords.

"I am glad to see that you are better," Gervaise said, as he went
up to greet them. "Twenty years seem to  have dropped off your
shoulders since this morning."

"We are not the same men, Sir Gervaise. We were slaves, and are
now free. We were Christian dogs; now  we are Christian knights.
We were subject to scoffs and blows; now, thank God, we have swords
to strike  with, and though as yet our arms may not have regained
their full strength, we could at least bear a share in  a fray.
Our comrades have been telling us somewhat of how this wonderful
thing has come about, and have  been explaining what at first
filled us with surprise, that a galley should be manned solely by
young  knights, of whom their commander is one of the youngest. We
can testify, at least, that had the grand  master been himself in
command, and his crew composed of veteran knights, he could have
done no  better."

"We were fortunate in taking them so much by surprise that the first
of their ships fell into our hands before  her consorts could come
to her assistance; and her guns did us good service in our struggle
with the others."

"The matter was well arranged, as well as gallantly fought," one of
the other knights said. "Had you first  fallen foul of the chief's
galley, it would have gone hard with you, for his crew were so
strong that you  could scarce have overcome them before the other
two vessels came up to his assistance."

"Now let us to our meal," Gervaise said.

The three knights were placed at the head of the table by him, and
it was pleasant to see how they enjoyed  their food.

"I can scarce persuade myself that I am not dreaming," Caretto
said. "Sometimes, when lying at night, wet  through with the damp
air, I have wondered to myself whether I could ever have lived
thus, and whether I  should ever exchange my hard bread and water
for what seemed to me fabulous luxuries, though at the time  one
had taken them as a matter of course. You cannot tell how strange
it feels to me to come back to the old  life again."

"You will soon be accustomed to it," Gervaise said, with a smile,
"and then you will look upon your  captivity as a dream, just as
you then regarded your past life."

"I suppose, Sir Gervaise," Pietro Forzi said, "that you will sail
direct for Rhodes with your prizes?"

"No indeed," Gervaise replied. "At the same time that we learned,
from a dying man left on board the ship  the pirates captured
yesterday, of the course they had taken, and were so enabled to
follow them, we also  learned that they were on their way to join
a corsair fleet that was collecting at some point on the eastern
side of Sardinia, with the intention of sweeping the coast of Italy.
It was this, rather than the capture of  these three vessels, that
induced us to disobey the general instructions we had been given
to cruise along  the northern coast of Africa, and determined us
to push north to give warning along the coast from Naples  to Genoa
of the danger that threatened, and, if possible, to enable Genoa
to fit out her galleys to encounter  the corsairs. That duty has
still to be fulfilled, though I fear that Genoa will be able to do
little, for of late  she has been engaged in a long civil struggle
between her great families, and has taken but a small part in
maritime affairs.  However, we can at least warn her, as well as
Naples, Pisa, and other towns, and may  possibly find some opportunity
for ourselves striking another blow against the pirates."

"If so, certainly we shall be glad to accompany you, if you will
allow us to serve under you; for nothing  would please us so much
as the opportunity of paying off a small share of the vengeance
we owe them. But  of course, if you would rather, we will sail for
Rhodes in the prizes."

"I am not thinking of sending them to Rhodes at present," Gervaise
said. "It seems to me that we may be  able, in some way, to utilise
them to advantage. They have their sails, and rowers for the oars.
There will  be, in each, besides seven knights of the Order, thirty
men who, like yourselves, must feel willing to strike  a blow at
their late oppressors. I need hardly say that I shall be glad indeed
to have the company and aid of  three such well known knights of
the Order, and would, could I do so, gladly resign my command into
your  experienced hands. But this I cannot do, and, anticipating
that you would be willing to join us in this  expedition, I have
been thinking how I could best utilise your aid. I have thought
that, if you would accept  the positions, I would appoint one of
you to each of the prizes, to act, not as its commander, but as the
leader of the band of released captives. Most of them are sailors,
of course, and with them you could work  the guns and give effective
aid to the little party of knights in any actual fight."

The three knights all exclaimed that they would gladly accept the
posts he offered them.

"The idea is a capital one, Sir Gervaise; and, as long as it does
not come to close fighting, the three ships  should be able to
render efficient aid to your galley in any encounter. They will
be, at any rate, a match for  their own number of pirate ships,"
Caretto said.

As soon as the meal concluded, the Moslem captives were questioned
one by one as to the rendezvous at  which the pirate fleet was to
assemble; all, however, protested that the place was known only to
the three  commanders, all of whom had fallen in the fight.



CHAPTER XIV THE CORSAIR FLEET


An hour later all was ready for a start. The knights of the langues
of France, Germany, and Spain went on  board their respective ships,
as did the three parties of released captives, with the knights
who were to  command them, while the rowers took their seats on
the benches, shackled with the chains that had recently  held the
Christians. The wind was from the south, and with sails and oars
the prizes were able to keep fairly  abreast of the galley. With
a few short intervals of rest, the slaves continued their work all
night, until,  shortly before daybreak, land was seen ahead, and
the pilot at once pronounced it to be Cape Carbonara.

"A good landfall, Gervaise," Ralph said. "The pilot has done right
well. I suppose you mean to anchor  when you get there?"

"Certainly, Ralph. The slaves will have rowed nearly eighteen hours,
with only two hours' rest. They must  have some hours, at least,
of sleep before we go on. As you and I have been up all night, we
will turn in  also. We will send a boat ashore to try and find out
from the natives they may come across whether any  vessels, bearing
the appearance of Moorish corsairs, have been seen passing up the
coast, and also to find  out what bays and inlets there are where
they would be likely to anchor. Some of the Italian knights had
best go with the boat, for though I believe these people speak a
different dialect to those of the mainland,  they would have more
chance of understanding them than any of the others."

The sun had risen when the little fleet came to an anchor close to
the cape. A boat was at once prepared to  go ashore, and Gervaise
begged Fabricius Caretto, the senior of the rescued Italian knights,
to endeavour to  find out whether a swift sailing craft of some
kind could be hired. If so, he was to secure her on any terms,  and
come off in her at once to the galley.

Gervaise had already talked the matter over with Ralph, and they
agreed that a strongly manned craft of this  kind would go faster
than any of those they had taken, and that, moreover, it would be
a pity to weaken  their force by sending one of the prizes away.
Having seen them off, Gervaise retired to the cabin and threw
himself down for a short sleep, leaving the knights who had been
off watch during the night, to see that all  went well. In two
hours he was roused.  A native craft had come alongside with Sir
Fabricius Caretto.

"I think she is just the craft for us," the knight said, as Gervaise
came on deck. "She belongs to a large  fishing village just round
the point to the left. There were several boats there, but the
villagers all said that  this was the speediest vessel anywhere
along the coast. She belongs to two brothers, who, with four men,
constitute her regular crew; but I have arranged for twelve others
to go in her, in order that they may row  her along at a good pace
if the wind falls light."

"Are your companions come off yet?"

"No; but we can hoist a flag for their recall."

"Do so. I shall be greatly obliged if you will undertake this mission
to the seaports. It needs one of name  and rank to speak with the
nobles and officials authoritatively."

"I will gladly do so, Sir Gervaise. Give me your instructions, and
you can rely upon my carrying them out."

"I thank you greatly, Sir Fabricius, and shall be glad if you
will take with you any two of the knights you  may select.  I have
to write letters for you to deliver to the authorities at Naples,
Pisa, and Genoa. I shall  write but briefly, and leave you to explain
matters more fully. I shall merely say that I have intelligence of
the arrival here of a fleet of Moorish corsairs, of whose strength
I am ignorant, but that assuredly their  intention is to make a raid
on the commerce of the coast, and perhaps to land at unprotected
places. At  Ostia, after warning the authorities to send orders
along the coast for the inhabitants to be on their guard,  pray
them to carry word at once to Rome, and request his Holiness the
Pope to order some armed galleys to  put to sea as soon as possible.
Beg them at Naples and Pisa to do the same thing.  But of course
it is from  Genoa that we must hope for the most assistance.

"In each place you will, if possible, see the syndic himself, and
such of his council as can be got quickly  together. The moment
you have done all you can at Genoa sail for the Island of Madalena,
which lies off  the northeastern point of the island. There you
will either find us, or a boat with a message where to direct  your
course. I think perhaps it will be best to omit Naples -- it will
save you fully a day, if not two, to do so.  Pray them at Ostia to
send off news down the coast, or to request the papal authorities
to despatch mounted  messengers. 'Tis likely that, at first, at
any rate, the corsairs will try the narrower waters to the north.
From  here to Ostia is nigh two hundred miles, and if the wind is
brisk you may arrive there tomorrow afternoon,  and start again at
night, arriving at Pisa before noon on the following day; while,
allowing for four or five  hours to ascend the river there, you
may be at Genoa next morning.

"Three hours should suffice to gather from the authorities what
force they can despatch, and as soon as you  have learned this,
embark again and sail south. You may reach Madalena in two days.
Thus, at the earliest,  it must be from six to seven days before
you can bring us the news there; if you meet with calms or foul
winds you may be well nigh double that time. If at Ostia you can
get a faster craft than this, hire it, or take a  relay of fresh
rowers.  I will furnish you with means when I give you the letters."

In less than half an hour Gervaise was on deck again.  The boat
had returned with the other Italian knights.  An ample store of
provisions had been placed on board the Sperondra, both for the
crew and for the three  knights, and, without a minute's delay,
these took their places on board, the great sails were hoisted,
and the  craft glided rapidly away.

"The villagers spoke truly as to her speed," Ralph said, as they
looked after her. "Even with this light wind,  she is running fully
six miles an hour, and as, by the look of the sky, there will be
more of it soon, she will  make the run to Ostia well within the
time we calculated."

Gervaise now questioned the other Italian knights as to what
information they had gained.

They said the peasants had told them that several strange craft,
using both oars and sails, had been noticed  passing northwards,
and that so strong was the opinion that these were either Algerines
or Tunisians that,  for the last three or four days, none of the
fishing craft had ventured to put to sea. They were able to tell
but  little as to the bays along the coastline, which they described
as very rugged and precipitous. Five or six  little streams ran,
they knew, down from the mountains. They thought the most likely
places for corsairs to  rendezvous would be in a deep indentation
north of Cape Bellavista, or behind Cape Comino. If not at these
places, they might meet in the great bay at whose entrance stands
Tavolara Island, and that beyond, there  were several deep inlets
on the northeastern coast of the Island. Gervaise had a consultation
with Ralph.

"The first thing is to find out where these corsairs have their
meeting place, Ralph; and this must be done  without their catching
sight of the galley or of the prizes, which some of them would be
sure to recognise."

Ralph nodded.

"It is a difficult question, Gervaise. Of course, if we had a
boat speedy enough to row away from the  corsairs it would be easy
enough; but with wind and oars they go so fast that no boat could
escape them."

"That is quite certain, Ralph; and therefore, if it is done by a
boat, it must be by one so small and  insignificant that they would
pay but little attention to it if they caught sight of it. My idea
is that we should  take our own little boat, which is a fast one,
paint it black, to give it the appearance of a fisherman's boat,
and hire a couple of good rowers from the village. This, with one
knight dressed as a fisherman, should go  ahead of us, and explore
every inlet where ships could be sheltered. We would follow ten
miles behind.  When we get near the places where the natives think
the fleet is likely to be, the boat must go on at night,  while we
anchor. In that way they ought to be able to discover the corsairs,
while themselves unseen, and to  gain some idea of their numbers and
the position in which they are anchored, and bring us back news."

"Shall I go myself, Gervaise?"

"I could not spare you, Ralph. The risk of capture does not seem
to me to be great, but there certainly is a  risk, and I dare not
part with you. It had better be an Italian, because there will
doubtless be an opportunity  of landing at villages and questioning
the inhabitants, therefore we will send Fosco. If there are some
eight  or ten corsairs gathered in any of these bays the news is
sure to travel along the shore, and we may get  some tidings in
that way. The first thing is to send off to the village again to
fetch two young fishermen;  they must be active fellows, strong,
and possessed of some courage. I will ask da Vinci to go himself
and  select them. While he is away we will paint our boat black,
and make ready for her to start at once; the  sooner she is off
the better."

The Italian knight at once undertook the mission, and started for
the shore. Fosco, who had been chosen  principally because he was
light of frame, as well as very shrewd and intelligent, was then
called up, and  his mission explained to him. He was delighted at
having been selected.  Gervaise took him down to the  cabin, and
they consulted the maps with which the galley was furnished.

"You will row on to Muravera; it is some twenty miles from here.
You see, the village lies at the mouth of a  river.  As soon as
you arrive there, you will land and find out whether there is any
report of Moorish pirates  having been seen along the coast. We
shall be there this evening, and you will come on board and report.
Next day you will get to Lunasei, which is about five miles on
this side of Cape Bellavista, and they will  certainly know there
if the pirates are lying behind the cape. If they are so, you will
row back to meet us; if  they are not, you will remain there until
we come up in the evening. Remember that, should you on either
day be seen and chased, and you find they are overtaking you, you
will make for the shore, land, and  conceal yourselves. We shall
keep along near the coast, and as we pass you can come down to the
water's  edge and signal to us to take you off. Now you had better
disguise yourself, so as to be in readiness to start  as soon as
da Vinci comes off with the men. You will only need to take a small
stock of provisions, as each  night you can replenish them here."

An hour later da Vinci came off with two stalwart young fishermen.
The little boat had already been  painted, and it was lowered at
once; Fosco stepped into it, and started.

Two hours later the prizes got up sail, and, accompanied by the
galley, coasted quietly along the shore,  arriving, late in the
afternoon, at Muravera. Fosco at once came on board.

"There is no news here beyond that which we gained this morning,
Sir Gervaise," he said. "Strange ships  have certainly been seen
sailing north, but they did not approach the coast."

A similar report was given at Lunasei; there were certainly no
corsairs lying behind Cape Bellavista, or  news would assuredly
have reached the village. At Orosei, next day, the report was the
same; there were no  strange ships at Cape Comino. They had been
warned overnight that the coast beyond the cape was so  precipitous,
that there would be no villages at which to make inquiries, and
arranged with Fosco that the  ships should anchor north of the
cape, and that he should go on at once to inspect the next bay. If
he found  ships there, he was to return at once; if not, he was, at
daybreak, to land at one of the villages in the bay,  and to make
inquiries.

No news was brought in by him during the night.

"It is evident the pirates are not in the bay, Gervaise," Ralph
said, as they came on deck at daybreak.

"Yes; and I am glad of it. It is a large bay, and if the Genoese
send half a dozen galleys, some of the pirates  might still escape,
while the next bays are deeper and narrower, and it would be more
easy to entrap them  all. I have all along thought it most probable
that they would rendezvous there. The maps show no villages  for
many miles round, and they might lie there for weeks without so
much as a shepherd getting sight of  them from the cliffs. Moreover,
it is the nearest point for cutting off ships coming down between
Corsica  and the mainland, and they can, besides, snap up those
proceeding from the south to Marseilles, as these,  for the most
part, pass between Sardinia and Corsica."

At eight o'clock the boat was seen coming round the point.

"Any news, Fosco?" Gervaise asked, as it approached the galley.

"None, Sir Gervaise. They have heard nothing of pirates, nor seen
anything of them."

Exclamations of disappointment broke from the knights.

"That makes it all the more likely," Gervaise said, "that they are
lying in one of the inlets to the north. You  see, lower down they
kept comparatively close to the shore, being careless who might
notice them; but as  they approached their rendezvous, they would
be more careful, and might either pass along at night, or  keep far
out. If they had not been anxious to conceal their near presence,
they would have been likely to put  into this bay in search of plunder
and captives; for Tempe, one of the largest of the Sardinian towns,
lies  but a short distance away, and there must be a considerable
amount of traffic."

"There are four or five small craft lying there," Fosco, who had
by this time stepped on board, put in, "and a  considerable number
of fishing boats. When I came upon the ships in the dark, I thought
at first that I had  lighted on the pirates, but on letting the
boat drift closely by them I soon saw they were not corsair galleys."

"Shall we get up anchor and go into the bay?" Ralph asked.

"It were safer not to do so, Ralph. Possibly one of the craft lying
there might be presently captured by them,  and they might learn
from her crew of the presence of a galley of the Order there.
Therefore I think it best  to remain where we are till nightfall,
and then to proceed and anchor on the north side of the Island of
Madalena, if we can find a sheltered cove where we could not be
seen either from the land or by passing  ships."

During the day there was a good deal of discussion among the
knights as to whether the corsairs might not  already have sailed
away. It was evident that if all their ships had arrived, there
would be no motive for  delay. Three ships they knew would never
join them, and others might have been detained, from some  cause
or another. There could be no doubt that the pirates had already
ample force for capturing as many  merchant vessels as they might
come across. But it might be intended to carry out some more daring
project  -- to sack and burn towns along the coast, carry off the
leading people for ransom, and fill the vessels with  slaves --
the attack being made simultaneously on several unprotected towns.
A vast amount of plunder  could thus be reaped, together with
captives of even greater money value. Were this their plan, they
would  doubtless delay until all those who had promised to join
in the expedition had arrived. The balance of  opinion, then, was
that the corsairs were still in hiding.

By daybreak next morning they were moored in a sheltered little bay
to the north of Madalena, the galley  lying inside the prizes, so
as to be concealed as much as possible from view of any craft that
might happen  to pass the mouth of the bay. Fosco started as soon
as darkness fell in the evening, and returned early in the  morning.

"They are there," he shouted, as he neared the galley, "hidden in
a deep inlet that runs into one of the  narrow bays."

"How many are there of them?"

"Seventeen or eighteen, I could not say which. They are all moored
side by side."

By this time Fosco's boat had reached the galley.

"You have done well indeed," Gervaise said, as the young knight
ascended to the poop. "Now give us a full  account of what you have
seen."

"As you know, Sir Gervaise, the bay opposite this island splits
up into two, running a long way inland, like  the fangs of a great
tooth. I had, of course, no difficulty in finding the entrance to
the bay itself, as it is but a  short distance across the strait. I
steered first for the left hand shore, and kept close along under
the shadow  of the cliffs, which, in many cases, rise almost straight
out from the water. We rowed very quietly, fearing  to run against
a rock; for although it was light enough to see across the water,
and to make out any craft that  might be anchored there, it was very
dark along the foot of the cliffs. There was no need for haste, as
I  knew I had plenty of time to explore both arms of the bay, and
to be back here before day began to break.

"We rowed up to the end of the inlet, and then, having assured
ourselves that it was empty, came down the  other side, and turned
up the western arm. We had got some distance along when I fancied
I heard voices,  and so let the boat drift along, only dipping the
oars in the water occasionally. I could make out no signs  whatever
of the corsairs, when suddenly we came upon a break in the cliffs.
It was only some fifty yards  across, and here a creek came in at
right angles to the shore. I could have given a shout of pleasure
as I  looked up it, for there a score of lights were burning above
a dark mass, and we could hear the sound of  talking and laughter.
It was but a glimpse I caught, for the men at once backed water,
and we were soon  round the corner again.

"Up till then the fishermen had been ready enough to go where I
wanted, but the sight of that clump of  galleys regularly scared
them, and they wanted to row straight away; but of course I pointed
out to them  that they had taken pay to do this thing, and that
they had to do it. They said that if caught they would be  either
killed or made slaves of, and I could not contradict them, but said
that, in the first place, as I was  ready to run the risk, there
was no reason why they shouldn't do so, and in the second, there
was no chance  whatever of their being taken, as, if discovered,
we should get so long a start that we could either escape  them
altogether or run the boat ashore at some point where the trees
came down to the water's edge, carry  the boat up and hide it, and
then move up into the hills until the corsairs had gone.

"We waited there three or four hours, looking round the point
occasionally. At the end of that time all was  quiet.  Two or three
of the lanterns still burned, but there was no sign of life or
movement on their decks.  After waiting another half hour to ensure
the crews being asleep, we rowed quietly up the creek, keeping
within an oar's length of the rocks. There was not much to see; the
galleys lay two abreast, and as there was  no space between them,
I supposed the whole were lashed together. There were eight of them
on the side  we went along, but I think there were only seven on
the other side. As I thought it did not much matter  whether there
were fifteen or sixteen, and as the men were in a state of horrible
fright, we turned and went  back again, and I own I felt very glad
myself when we got round the point without an alarm being given.
We came quietly out, and it was fortunate we did so, for we had
not gone a quarter of a mile when we heard  the sound of oars, and,
lying silently under the cliff, we saw two large galleys row past
us."

"It is a strong force, Gervaise," Ralph said, as they paced up and
down the poop together. "Probably in each  of those galleys are
eighty or a hundred men, in addition to the rowers. It is evident
that unless Genoa sends  us help we shall not be able to interfere
with their plans."

"I don't know, Ralph. I think we may injure them sorely, though we
might not be able to defeat them  altogether. I want you tonight
to take one of the prizes, and row round to the bay we passed,
and there to  buy three coasting vessels and six or eight fishing
boats. Get as much pitch, oil, and other combustibles, as  you can
purchase in the villages on the shore. If you can engage a score of
fishermen to man them, all the  better. My idea is that if Caretto
returns with news that the Genoese have no galleys ready for sea,
we must  do what we can to injure these corsairs. If we smear
these craft you are going to fetch with pitch and oil,  and fill
the holds with combustibles, and so turn them into fire ships, we
may at least do the pirates a  tremendous lot of harm. When we get
to the mouth of this inlet, we could have the fire ships rowed in
by  three or four men in each, they having a boat behind in which
to escape as soon as the boats are lighted.  The sight of a dozen
craft coming down on them in flames would cause a terrific panic,
for, moored closely  together, as they are, if one took fire there
would be little chance of the others escaping. Of course, we  should
add to the confusion by opening a fire with all our guns, and could
hope to capture some at least of  them as they tried to make their
way out."

"It is a grand idea, Gervaise; a splendid idea! It would be a
terrific blow to the Moors, and would make the  sea safe from them
for a long time."

"When you buy the other things, Ralph, get a quantity of black
cloth -- it matters not how coarse, or of what  material; and also
some white. As soon as you come back with it, all hands shall set
to work to make the  stuff up into mantles of the Order, with the
white cross. We will put these on to the Christians in the prizes,
and the Moors will suppose that they are attacked by four of the
galleys of the Order. If you can get some  more arms and some iron
headpieces, all the better."

"I will do what I can, Gervaise; the arms will certainly be wanted,
for those we found on the decks were  sufficient only to arm half
the Christians. As to the steel caps, that will not matter so much,
as in the  darkness and confusion the sight of the mantles will be
quite enough to convince the corsairs that we are all  knights of
the Order. By the way, Gervaise, we have not yet looked into the
holds of the prizes."

"That is so, Ralph; we knew, of course, that as the ships had but
just started we should find nothing in them  save the cargo of that
unfortunate craft they captured."

On searching they found, as they had expected, that the cargo of
the captured ship had been of no great  value.  It consisted of
wine, olive oil, and grain. These were all useful, for the number of
mouths to be fed  was considerable, and heavy inroads had already
been made on the stores of the galley. The rowers of the  four
vessels were at once set to work to crush the grain between flat
stones brought from the shore, and an  ample supply of coarse flour
for their use for at least a fortnight was obtained before sunset.

As soon as darkness fell, Ralph and two of the French knights started
in one of the prizes. Late on the  following afternoon a sail was
seen coming from the north, and before the sun set they were able
to make  her out to be the craft in which Caretto had sailed. The
anchor of the galley was at once got up, and she  rowed out to meet
the boat and conduct her into the little bay. It was almost dark
when they came within  hailing distance.

"What news do you bring, Sir Fabricius?"

"Bad news, I regret to say. I do not think that Genoa will be able
to send out any galleys for at least a  fortnight.  There have
been civil dissensions, and fighting between rival factions, and in
consequence her  ships are all dismantled and laid up. Crews will
have to be collected for them, repairs executed, and officers
chosen; a fortnight will be the earliest time in which they can
be here. Pisa has no war galleys, and unless  the Pope sends some
out directly he gets the news, the corsairs will have it their own
way. Have you  discovered them?"

"Yes; they lie but a few miles from here. There were fifteen
or sixteen of them two days ago, and two  others joined them that
night. You have lost no time indeed. We had scarce begun to expect
you, Sir  Fabricius," he added, as the knight and his two comrades
stepped on board.

"I have done my best," the knight said angrily. "But I am in a rage
with my ill success. All I have  accomplished is that no merchant
vessels will put to sea at present. At Ostia they would only send
off a  message to Rome, to ask for orders. At Pisa the authorities
at first treated my story as a fiction, and, I  believe, took me for
an impostor; but on the news spreading, some knights came forward
and recognised  me. Then we had a meeting of the council. All
talked, wrangled, and protested. They said that it was absurd  to
suppose that they could, at a moment's notice, fit out ships
to cope with a fleet of corsairs; and their sole  idea was to man
the forts, and to repel an attack. However, mounted messengers
were sent off at once, up  and down the coast, to give warning to
the inhabitants of the towns to put themselves into a posture of
defence, and to the villagers to fly with their wives and families
into the interior as soon as they saw galleys  of doubtful appearance
approaching. I was there but four hours, and then started for
Genoa."

"There was almost a panic there too, as the members of the council
were mostly merchants, and were filled  with dismay for the safety
of their ships and goods at sea. Of course, there was no thought that
the corsairs,  however strong, would venture an attack upon Genoa
itself. I told them that you had captured three of the  corsairs
with a single galley, and that if they could send you ten others you
would probably be able to make  head against the pirates; but, as
I have told you, Genoa is at peace with all the world; her war galleys
are  laid up, and most of them would need repair and recaulking
before they would be fit to send to sea.  Although they maintained
that no more than a week should elapse before they would be ready
to sail I am  right sure that it will be double that time before
they are fitted out.

"Of course, in Genoa I was well known, though my family estates
lie near Mantua, and my acquaintances  flocked round me and urged
me to stay until the galleys were ready for sea. This I would not
hear of, and,  six hours after my arrival, started again. We made
the voyage to Corsica at a good speed, but since then we  have had
the oars constantly out to help the sails. The men have well earned
their pay, I can assure you. It is  enough to make one mad with
rage to think that these pirates will be able to harry the coast
of Italy at their  pleasure; for there can be little chance that
they will abide quiet much longer at this rendezvous."

"It is annoying, indeed," Gervaise agreed; and a murmur of
disappointment ran round the assembled  knights. "However, we have
the consolation that we have done all we could, and I am sure that
we shall do  so in the future."

Gervaise had charged Ralph to say nothing about the object of
his mission, and the general supposition was  that he had sailed
to endeavour to purchase some bullocks, as the supply of meat was
nearly exhausted.  Ralph himself had let drop a few words to this
effect, and had indeed been charged by Gervaise to bring off  a
few oxen if they could be obtained without loss of time.  Gervaise
was on deck at midnight, and soon  afterwards the beat of oars
was heard. It was a still night, and one of the knights on watch
remarked to him,  "It seems to me, Sir Gervaise, that the sound
is a confused one, and that there must be several vessels  rowing.
Shall I call up our companions? It may be that it is the pirate
fleet coming out."

"You need not do that," Gervaise replied. "I am expecting Sir Ralph
to bring back with him some fishing  boats, for which I think I
can find a use. We should have heard before this if the corsairs
had been putting  out. Fosco is in his boat watching the mouth of
the inlet, and would have started with the news had there  been
any stir on board their galleys."

It was a quarter of an hour before a number of dark objects entered
the little bay. As soon as they did so,  they ceased rowing, and
the splashes of the anchors as they fell into the water were heard.
Then came the  sound of a boat's oars, and Ralph was soon alongside.

"I see that you have succeeded, Ralph."

"There is no fear of failing when one is ready to pay the full
value of what one wants to get. I have bought  three coasters and
eight fishing boats, and have a sufficient store of pitch and oil,
with plenty of straw and  faggots. There was no difficulty in
getting men to come with me. As soon as they heard that a fleet
of  eighteen Moorish galleys was in the next bay, they were ready
enough to aid in any plan for their  destruction, for they knew
well enough that some of them would be sure to make raids all along
the coast,  sacking and burning, and carrying off men, women, and
children, as slaves. I said I only wanted two men  for each craft,
but so many were willing to come that I have some thirty more than
the number I asked for,  and we can divide these among us. They
are strong, active looking fellows."

"We will keep them here then, Ralph. You see, there are one-and-twenty
of our knights in the three prizes,  and as we lost two in the
capture, and four others are not fit to put on armour, we have but
six-and-twenty,  and the addition will be very welcome. What are
they armed with?"

"They have bows and arrows, and long pikes and axes."

"Good. Have you managed to collect any more arms?"

"Yes. The people are all charcoal burners and woodmen in winter,
and I was therefore able to get together  some thirty or forty axes
and hatchets, which will be ample, with the arms we took from the
Moors, to  equip the ninety Christians."

"I think we can depend upon these for fighting, Ralph."

"I don't think there is any doubt about that. A few of them
are pretty well worn out with labour and  suffering, but all have
gained strength and spirits greatly in the past week, and you may
be sure that they  will fight to the death rather than run the risk
of another turn in the galleys."

"And have you got the stuff to make the mantles?"

"Yes. There was plenty of the coarse black cloth which they wear
in summer -- in winter, of course, they  are clad in sheepskins;
and I have sufficient white cotton cloth to make the crosses."

"We have only one thing to wish for now, Ralph, and that is, that
the corsairs may not take it into their  heads to sail tomorrow.
Fosco will bring me news at daybreak, and we will at once send
another boat off to  watch the mouth of the bay when he leaves
it. If they sail, we cannot venture to attack them as long as they
keep together, the odds are far too heavy, and our only plan will
be to follow them at a distance, when we  can just keep their upper
sails in sight, and then to attack any detachment that may separate
from the main  body."

"I hope it will not come to that, Gervaise. It would be hard
indeed, when you have devised such a splendid  plan, and we have
got everything ready to carry it out, if they were to give us the
slip. Do the others know  anything about it yet?"

"No. I thought it better to keep silence till tomorrow.  No doubt
some of the galley slaves understand  enough of one or other of our
languages to gather what is on foot.  Besides, their late captives
might, in  their satisfaction at the thought of revenge, say
enough to them to let them know that an attack on their fleet  was
intended, and one of them might, in some way, free himself from his
irons and swim ashore. We know  there is a small fishing village
across the island, and there would be no difficulty in stealing a
boat and  making off with the news. I do not say that the risk is
great; still, it were better not to throw away even a  chance.  The
knights have all turned in in a very gloomy mood, for Caretto has
returned with news that  there is no hope of assistance from Genoa
for a fortnight, and it seemed, therefore, that all our pains had
been thrown away. And now we may as well turn in until daylight."



CHAPTER XV A SPLENDID EXPLOIT


Gervaise was up again at dawn. He was amused at the wonder of the
knights, as they came up one by one,  at the sight of the little
fleet anchored outside them. As soon as it was fairly daylight, he
sent off to the  three prizes to request all the knights to come
on board the galley. When all were assembled there he said,  "You
are all aware, comrades, that Sir Fabricius Caretto has brought
news that the galleys at Genoa are all  laid up, and that it will
be a fortnight before they can put to sea. Long before that, the
corsairs will  assuredly be ravaging all the villages and small
towns along the coast of Italy, unless we can prevent their  doing
so. It would be simple madness to try to attack them at sea; of
that I feel sure you are all conscious. It  would be only throwing
away our lives and our galley."

There was a murmur of assent among the knights. They were ready
for any encounter in which there was a  chance, however faint, of
success; but all saw that for a single galley to attack one of the
largest corsair  fleets that had ever set out, would be nothing
short of insanity. Their leader's words, however, seemed to  show
that he had some plan in his mind by which he hoped to strike a
blow at the enemy, and all listened  eagerly for what was coming.

"We have heard from our comrade Fosco that their ships lie moored
in two lines, side by side in a narrow  inlet.  He has returned
this morning with the news that they are still there. He thinks
that three or four more  have arrived during the last two days, and
it is probable they are waiting for the three we captured to join
them. Tonight it is my intention to attack them, but not by rowing
in and boarding them, for that would be  hopeless. Yesterday Sir
Ralph Harcourt went, as you are aware, to fetch provisions. But
this was a part only  of the object of his trip. He has, as you
see, brought back eleven craft with him; these, I may tell you,
are  laden with combustibles -- pitch, oil, straw, and faggots.
They will be rowed and towed to the inlet tonight,  set on fire,
and launched against the pirates."

An enthusiastic cheer broke from the knights. They saw at once
that, lying as the corsairs were, side by  side, the destruction
of many of them was certain.

"He has also brought fishermen," Gervaise went on, "two or three
of whom will go in each fire ship, having  a boat towing behind,
in which they will escape as soon as the craft are alongside the
galleys. The galley  and the three prizes will take their post
at the mouth of the inlet. The fire of our guns will add to the
confusion among the pirates, and we shall endeavour to fall upon
any galleys that may extricate themselves  from the mass, and try
to make their escape. Sir Ralph has brought back materials for
making ninety  mantles of the Order, for the Christians on board
the three prizes, and thirty fishermen to bring the crew of  our
galley up to its full strength. The light of the flames will suffice
to show the pirates that, as they will  believe, four vessels, manned
by knights of the Order, are barring the entrance. Many will, we
may  calculate, jump overboard and swim ashore rather than face
us, and we shall be able, at any rate, to capture  three or four of
their craft, for, as they come out, one by one, we can all close
round them; and with nearly  fifty knights, ninety released captives,
burning for vengeance, and some fifty or sixty fishermen, for those
from the fire ships will, of course, join us -- we shall make short
work of them, and may even hope to  entirely destroy their fleet."

Again a joyous shout rose from the knights. This would indeed be
an exploit that all might be proud to  share in, and, breaking the
ranks in which they had stood while Gervaise addressed them, they
crowded  round him with exclamations of enthusiasm and devotion.

"Now," he said, as soon as silence was a little restored, "the
knights of the langues on board the prizes will  send at once to
the coaster on the left of the other two. Sir Ralph will go there
now, and supply each with  materials for making the mantles for
the Christians; he has brought thread, and fish bone needles. You
will  see that the stuff is cut up into suitable lengths, and handed
over to your crews, and that each man makes up  his mantle. There
can be but little sewing required for these sleeveless gowns,
nor need it be carefully done.  The great thing is that the white
crosses shall be conspicuous. As soon as you have set them to
work, you  will examine the state of the arms, see how many more
are needed to complete the list, and then send off to  Sir Ralph,
who will furnish as many as are required: the fishermen have brought
their own weapons. See  that the slaves are all well fed today,
and, before evening, inspect well their fetters, so that you may
be free  from all anxiety as to an attempt by them to escape during
the conflict.

"The rest of you will go on board these native craft, and see that
the combustibles are fairly distributed  among them, the wood and
straw soaked with pitch and oil, as also the sails and ropes, and
that the decks  are well coated; this is a most important duty. Get
some torches made also, so that there shall be two on  board each
craft; these are to be lighted the last thing before we get to the
point, and will be thrown down  into the straw and faggots in the
hold, by the fishermen when they get close to the corsairs. All this
can be  prepared before our morning meal, and when you assemble here
I hope to receive your reports that  everything is in readiness.
One of the other coasters has some bullocks on board. Sir Ralph will
send one to  each of the prizes, and one to us. They had better be
killed and cut up at once, in order that the crews may  have two
good meals today of fresh meat. See that the galley slaves have
their share."

No time was lost in carrying out the orders. Ralph, as soon as
the cloth, arms, and meat were distributed,  went round in a boat
to see that the combustibles were properly laid for firing, and
everything done to  insure that the flames should spread rapidly.
The Sards shared in the work, and rations and wine were  distributed
to them; and when the knights sat down to their meal on board the
galley, they were able to  report that everything was in perfect
readiness, and that the work of sewing the mantles was making good
progress.

The day passed slowly to the young knights, all of whom were burning
with excitement at the thought of  the coming fray. The released
Christians were no less exultant at the prospect of taking vengeance
for the  sufferings they had so long endured, and the scene on
board all four ships was most animated.

After talking it over with Ralph, Gervaise told off three more of
the knights to each of the prizes, so that  there should be ten
on board each. This reduced the strength on board the galley to
seventeen; but as they  would have the assistance of a strong band
of Sards they considered this to be ample, under the  circumstances.
It was arranged that the galley, with one of the prizes, should
close with the first corsair that  came out, and that the other two
prizes should attack the second. After capturing these, they were
to assist  each other as circumstances might dictate. Gervaise
strongly impressed upon the knights in command of  each prize that
they were not, single handed, to attack a corsair unless one of
their consorts was near, and  free to give assistance.

"We must run no risk of a reverse," he said. "We are certain of
destroying many of their vessels and of  breaking up their fleet,
and it is far better that a few should escape than that we should
run the risk of losing  ten of our number, to say nothing of those
we have rescued from captivity. In the excitement of the fight  this
order must be strictly borne in mind. Our victory must be marred
by no misfortune brought on by  headstrong rashness. The corsairs
are bound to be very strongly manned, and ten knights, even aided
by  such assistance as they may get from the Christians, might find
themselves altogether over matched against  a crowd of desperate
men."

As soon as it was dusk the anchors were drawn up, and the fleet
got under way. They proceeded but slowly,  for the wind was light,
and the fishing boats moved heavily through the water. There was,
however, no  occasion for speed, for Gervaise did not wish to
commence the attack until past midnight. The guns had all  been
loaded before starting, and a pile of ammunition was placed near
each.  Presently the wind nearly died  out, and the galley and prizes
then took the coasters and fishing craft in tow. It was nearly one
o'clock when  they got within half a mile of the inlet.  The tow
ropes were then thrown off, the fishermen got out sweeps,  and
the galley led the way, the fire ships followed in a body, and the
three prizes brought up the rear. The  oars had all been muffled,
and slowly they made their way, until Fosco, who was standing next
to Gervaise  on board the galley, said that the point just ahead
marked the entrance to the inlet. They then stopped  rowing until
the fire ships were all close up.

These were, as had previously been arranged, in two lines. Five
fishing boats, each manned by four men  and having its small boat
in tow behind it, formed the first line; the three coasters, each
with six men at the  oars, and the three other fishing boats, formed
the second. The torches were now lighted. Ralph took his  place in
the centre boat of the first line; Gervaise went on board one of
the coasters, and the order was  given to the men to row. What wind
there was was favourable, blowing from the northwest, and therefore
right into the inlet. Scarcely had the first boats reached the
entrance when a shout was heard.

"Row, men, your hardest now!" Ralph shouted; the Sards bent to their
oars, and the five boats advanced  rapidly towards the corsairs.
As they did so, a babel of shouts and cries rose from the dark
mass of ships,  which swelled into a tumult of alarm as on Ralph's
order, "Throw your torches into the straw!" a flash of  flame leapt
up from each boat.  Five more strokes, and they were alongside
the two outside ships. As they  crashed heavily into them, the men
leapt from their seats and sprang over into the small boats, threw
off the  painters, and rowed astern, opening on either hand to
allow the second line of fire ships to pass. These, by  Gervaise's
directions, divided, and three bore along on either side of the
corsairs, and then ran in among  them, throwing grapnels to fasten
the fire ships alongside. Then, as the flames sprang up from the
holds, the  crews betook themselves to their boats, and rowed out
of the inlet.

By the time they reached the galley and prizes, the eleven fire
ships were a mass of flame, which was  spreading to the corsairs.
Lying packed together as these were, the confusion was terrible.
Numbers of men  endeavoured to push off the fire ships, but it was
too late; others tried to extricate their galleys from the  mass,
throwing off the hawsers, and striving with hand and oar to push
their vessels out of the line. As soon  as the boats were alongside
the galley, the guns of the four vessels opened fire with grape
into the crowded  ships, now lit up by the flames as clearly as
at noontide, while the battle cry of the Order sounded high  above
the din.

"Nothing can save the ships near this end of the line," Ralph said,
"but some of those behind may make  their way out between the others
and the rocks. I can see that some of them there are lowering their
yards  and sails to prevent their catching fire as they pass."

The knights distributed among the guns worked them incessantly,
directing their fire chiefly against the  outside ships, so as
to hinder the crews in their endeavours to arrest the progress of
the flames; but they  were soon able to fire impartially into the
mass. As the heat of the flames drove the pirates back, scores of
men leapt overboard, and made for the shore. Presently, two or
three ships were seen making their way  along the narrow line of
water on either side of the flaming group in front. As the first
advanced, the galley  and one of the prizes rowed a short distance
forward to meet it. Its deck was crowded with men, among  whom a
discharge of the cannon from both ships created terrible slaughter.

A moment afterwards they closed with it, one on either side, and
the knights, the released captives, and the  Sards, sprang down
on to its deck. The fight lasted but a minute.  Appalled by the
disaster that had befallen  them, by the terrible effect of the
broadsides, poured in at a few yards' distance, and by the sight of
so many  of the dreaded warriors of the Cross, some of the corsairs
threw down their arms and flung themselves on  the deck or into
the hold, crying for quarter; those who resisted fell either under
the swords of the knights,  the vengeful axes of the late captives,
or the pikes of the Sards; but the great bulk, leaping from the
bow or  stern, swam ashore.

"Back to your ships!" Gervaise shouted, the moment resistance
ceased. "Leave her floating here; she will  help to block the way."

Six vessels alone managed to make their escape from the blazing mass
of ships, and all of these were  captured almost as easily as the
first had been. As soon as it seemed that all the remainder were
involved in  the flames, boats were lowered and sent on board the
prizes to take possession. Save for the wounded on  the decks, they
were entirely deserted by their crews, as those who had run below,
as soon as they found  that their captors had left the vessels,
dropped into the water, and made their way, either by swimming or
with the assistance of oars, to the shore. There remained only the
slaves, chained to their benches. A few of  these had been killed
by the broadsides; but the guns had been aimed at the poops
and forecastles, where  the corsairs were clustered together,
and consequently the number of galley slaves who had fallen was
comparatively small.

In none of the galleys was the proportion of Christians anything
like so large as that in the three prizes first  taken, the
greater portion being men of inland tribes who had been captured in
warfare, or malefactors who,  instead of being executed, had been
sold to the corsairs. Nevertheless, in the six galleys some seventy
Christians were found, and at once freed. It was terrible to think
that in the galleys that had been destroyed  a large number of
Christians must have perished in the flames, and Gervaise expressed
bitter regret that he  had not considered that his attack by fire
ships must necessarily involve the loss of so many Christian lives.

"It can't be helped," Ralph said, as Gervaise poured out his feelings
to him. "To very many of them death  must have been welcome, and if
we had not attacked them as we did, and they had sailed for Italy,
hundreds, if not thousands, of Christians would have been killed,
and as many more carried away into  captivity; so, you see, the
balance is all in favour of the course we adopted."

Gervaise admitted this, but nevertheless his regret at the fate
of so many unfortunate captives quite  overpowered for the time
his satisfaction at the complete success that had been achieved.
The victory had  been almost a bloodless one on the part of the
assailants. A few of the knights had received wounds. Two  among
the Christian crews had been killed, and four Sards; while two score
had received wounds more or  less serious, as, unlike the knights,
they had no defensive armour. While waiting for daylight to appear,
all  their wounds were dressed and bandaged by the knights.

In the morning the captured galleys were towed out, and anchored
a short distance away, and then Gervaise  rowed up to the head of
the inlet, followed by the other three ships. They found that eleven
of the corsairs  had been burnt, and to their satisfaction, they
discovered four uninjured galleys lying there, deserted, save  by
the slaves.

Seeing the fate of their comrades who had first issued out, the
commanders had, instead of trying to escape,  rowed quietly to
the head of the inlet, the movement being covered by the flame and
smoke, and had there  landed, having laden themselves with stores
for their support on shore. This was a great satisfaction to the
knights, for not only did it swell the list of prizes, but it reduced
by over thirty the number of Christian  slaves who had perished
in the flames.  Taking the galleys in tow, they rowed out of the
inlet, whose banks  were strewn with half charred timbers, oars,
and relics of the fight.

As soon as they had anchored by the side of their first prizes,
a council was held on board the Santa  Barbara. It was clearly
impossible to take thirteen prizes to Rhodes, for there would be
but three or four  knights to each, and were they to fall in with
but one Moorish pirate, they might suffer great disaster, while,
should they meet with a storm, they would fare badly indeed, as they
could not depend upon the rescued  Christians for the management
of the sails and oars in heavy weather. At the same time, all were
most  anxious that the prizes should be carried to Rhodes. Never,
save as the result of some great battle, had such  a fleet of
captured galleys been brought in, and the knights were prepared
to endure all dangers rather than  part with one of them. Finally,
after much discussion, it was determined that they should make for
Genoa.  From thence the rescued captives would be able to find their
way to their homes.  The great majority were  Italians and Spaniards;
the former could proceed by land or sea to their respective homes,
while the  Spaniards would have no long time to wait before a vessel
of their own nationality entered the port, even if  one were not
lying there when they arrived. Moreover, in any case it would be
necessary to despatch a  vessel to Genoa, in order that it might
be known that the danger was averted, and that there was no longer
any necessity for getting the galleys ready for sea.

The chief ostensible reason, however, for going to Genoa was that
there would be no difficulty in engaging  as many sailors as might
be necessary to take the prizes to Rhodes. Underlying all the
arguments was  another reason which Ralph laughingly stated.

"It is all very well to bring forward one argument after another,
but not one of you has the courage to say  what I am sure all of
you have at the bottom of your hearts. You know very well that you
want to go to  Genoa to enjoy a triumph. The Rhodians are all very
well, but there are very many more fair faces at  Genoa. Fie, Sir
Knights! Such a spirit is little in accordance with the vows of the
Order. Are we not bound  to humility? And here you are all longing
for the plaudits of the nobles and ladies of Genoa!"

Some of the young knights laughed, others coloured hotly.

"They need not be ashamed of the feeling," Caretto said. "Is it not
the ardent desire of all true knights to do  gallant deeds, and do
they not value above all things the guerdon of applause from the
fair eyes of ladies.  Your comrades have performed the gallant
deeds, and well deserve the reward. Now, Sir Gervaise, if not  for
this reason, at any rate for the others that have been brought
forward, I suppose we are all agreed that  we sail for Genoa. For
our part we are heartily glad that such is your decision. We, and
the young knights  of our langue, have many friends there, and in
their name I am sure I can promise you a reception as hearty  and
sincere as that which we shall ourselves receive."

It was settled that the rescued captives should be divided equally
among the thirteen prizes, and that three  knights should go in
each. The Moorish captives were also divided equally among them, to
aid with the  sails, and to row a few oars, in case of a dead calm
setting in. The commands were distributed according to  seniority,
the three rescued Italian knights remaining on board the Santa
Barbara with Gervaise.

The Sards were anxious to return to their villages, in order to
carry the news that several hundreds of  Moorish pirates had landed.

"We shall have great trouble with them," one of the young fishermen,
who spoke a little Italian, said to  Gervaise.  "There are always
a great number of swine, and herds of goats, up among the forests
on the hills.  We must send up and drive in as many of these as
possible, and of course we shall send messengers to  Tempe; but it
will need a very large force to combat these pirates, who will be
able to come down and  plunder and destroy, and then retire to the
hills, whence it will be hard to dislodge them."

"I am sorry indeed that such trouble should have been caused to
you," Gervaise replied; "but I am afraid  that I can give you no
assistance."

"We shall hunt them down in time," the Sard said confidently.

"There are many villages scattered about Tempe, and what with us
fishermen, and the woodmen and  charcoal burners, we shall soon get
a strong body together. Besides, we know the mountains, and they
do  not."

"I should say that you had best avoid a pitched battle with them,
but keep on harassing them by night and  day, cutting off all who
separate themselves from the main body, until at last they are
completely worn  out."

"We shall deal with them, Sir Knight. We are all hunters, for there
are wild boars and stags in the forest,  and wolves too, and wild
sheep on the higher mountains. Every man among us can use his
bow skillfully,  and wield pike and hatchet. The hunt will not be
unprofitable, either, for we can get a good price for all we  take
alive, to work in the mines."

An hour later one of the galleys started with the Sards for their
villages in the bay of Tempe. After landing  them, she was to rejoin
the rest of the fleet at their former anchorage at Madalena. By
nightfall all were  gathered there, and the next morning they set
out for Genoa. The wind was light; but in their anxiety to  return
home as soon as possible the released captives all volunteered
to take their former places on the  benches, and the vessels were
kept going at a fair rate of speed. Two days' rowing took them to
Bastia,  where their approach created unbounded excitement until the
banner of the Order was seen floating from  the stern of the Santa
Barbara, while smaller flags, that had been hastily manufactured,
flew from the  mastheads of the thirteen prizes. Even then the
inhabitants feared to put out, believing that the flags were  but
a ruse, and numbers of them fled at once, with their families and
valuables, to the mountains. It was not  until a boat was lowered,
and Ralph, accompanied by three or four other knights, rowed ashore,
that the  panic was allayed.

As soon as it was understood that the galley of the knights had
not only captured the thirteen corsairs, but  had destroyed eleven
others, and had thus annihilated a fleet that was intended to prey
upon the commerce  of Italy, and ravage the western coast, the
alarm was succeeded by the wildest enthusiasm. By the time  Ralph
had obtained the fresh meat and stores he came ashore to purchase,
the greater part of the population  were gathered on the shore,
and a flotilla of boats put out with him, filled with picturesquely
dressed men  and women. Some carried flags, others green boughs,
while the ladies had bouquets and baskets of fruit.  The galley was
the first attraction, and, mounting her sides, the ladies presented
their offerings of fruit,  while the men cheered, and waved their
hats; many musicians came out in the boats, and these played on
bagpipes and three-reeded flutes a succession of airs peculiar to
the island.

Gervaise received his visitors on the poop. These were at first
altogether incredulous when told that it was  the lad before them
who had commanded the galley, had performed such a remarkable
feat, and had freed  them from a terrible danger. The youth of the
knights of the Order no less surprised them, and had not  Gervaise
assured them that it was altogether contrary to the rules of the
Order for a knight to allow himself  to be embraced, many of the
ladies would have taken this form of showing their enthusiasm and
gratitude.  The next morning the fleet started for Genoa.  The
wind was much stronger than it had been on the  previous day, and
it was therefore unnecessary for the oars to be put out, except,
indeed, on board the  galley. There, at nightfall, the Christians
relieved the slaves for some hours at their benches, and the next
morning the circle of hills round Genoa, with the city nestling at
their feet on the water's edge, and climbing  for some distance up
their slopes, was in view. Caretto at once suggested that it would
be well to signal to  the fleet to lie to.

"If we do not do so," he said, "they will assuredly think that
it is the corsair fleet advancing to attack and  burn the vessels
in port, and you may be saluted as you approach by a shower of
cannonballs. If you will  permit me, Sir Gervaise, I will go forward
in one of the prizes and explain matters, and will return here in
a  short time."

"Thank you, Sir Fabricius. As such mischance as you mention might
indeed very well occur, we will lower  sail and lie here until you
return."

While Caretto was away, the knights and crews breakfasted, and the
former put on their armour and gayest  attire, in readiness for the
landing. Gervaise, although with much inward vexation, considered
it necessary  to do the same.

"I do wish," he said to Ralph, who was smiling at his rueful
face, "that you could for today take my place,  and let me pass as
lieutenant."

"I should not mind at all, Gervaise. But you must put up with the
disagreeables as well as the advantages of  being commander, and
must submit to be honoured and feted here, as well as getting no
end of credit at  Rhodes. You will have the satisfaction of well
deserving it, for I am sure the plan of attacking them with  fire
ships would never have occurred to any one else, and if it had
not been for that, we should have had the  mortification of seeing
them sail off without being able to move a finger to interfere with
them."

"If one were fighting for fame and honour, all that would be true
enough; but members of an Order, whose  sole object is to defend
Christendom from the Moslems, should strive only to do their duty,
and care  nothing for such things as honour and glory."

"Human nature is human nature, and I don't see any reason why
one should despise honour and glory when  they come to one in the
course of duty. I fancy you will think so too, Gervaise, in course
of time. I am quite  sure that among the fifty knights, there is
not one who does not feel well content that he has not only done
his duty to the Order, but has gained a share in the credit and
honour that will certainly be given to all who  have taken a part
in so crushing a defeat of the corsairs. As for myself, I do not
for a moment pretend that I  am not sensible of the fact that, as
second in command of the galley, my chances of obtaining promotion
in  the Order are very greatly improved."

It was nearly two hours before Caretto returned.

"It was well indeed that I went in," he said to Gervaise, "for I
found the city in an uproar. The alarm bells of  the churches were
calling all citizens to arms, and troops were being hurried down
to the forts and batteries.  Rumour had of course exaggerated the
strength of the fleet, and half the population believed that the
safety  of the city itself was menaced by the approach of a mighty
squadron. As soon as my news was bruited  abroad, and they learned
that the fleet consisted solely of prizes captured from the Moors
by a galley of the  Order, alarm quickly changed into delight, the
sharp, angry clang of the bells was succeeded by peals of  gladness,
and the joy of the citizens at being relieved from the cloud
of anxiety that had hung over the city  since my last visit, was
unbounded. I went at once to the council chamber, where I found many
of the  leading citizens already assembled, having been summoned in
hot haste as soon as our approach was made  out. At first they were
almost incredulous when I told them that every ship of the pirate
fleet had been  either destroyed or captured, and that the fleet
in the offing consisted entirely of your galley and the thirteen
corsairs she had captured. As soon as they really grasped the fact,
they sent off messengers to the churches  to order the joy bells to
be rung, and to the dockyard to arrest all work upon the galleys.
Then I had to give  them a short account of the surprise and
destruction of the corsair fleet, and finally they begged me to
ask  you to delay your entry to the port for a couple of hours, in
order that they might have time to prepare a  suitable reception
for you."

"I suppose there is no help for it," Gervaise said. "Is there
anything that we ought to do?"

"I should decorate the galley with all the flags on board:  should
set every one to work to make great flags  with the cross of
the Order to hoist to the masthead of the prizes, instead of the
little things that are now  flying; and under them we will hoist
the flags of the corsairs, among which are those of Tripoli, Tunis,
and  Algiers. I do not know that there is aught else we can do."



CHAPTER XVI FESTIVITIES


At last the fleet, headed by the galley, to which all the knights
had returned, rowed towards the port. A gun  flashed out from the
fort at its entrance, and at once those from all the other batteries
responded; bells  pealed out again, and a confused roar of cheering
broke from the crowds occupying every spot from which  a view of the
harbour could be obtained. The ships in the port were all decked
with flags, and the front  windows and balconies of every house
were hung with tapestries and bright curtains. As soon as the galley
entered the port, a state barge, flying the flag of the Republic,
advanced to meet her from the wharf. As she  approached, Ralph gave
orders for the oars to be laid in, and the barge was soon alongside.
The knights  were already ranged along the poop, and, accompanied
by Ralph and Caretto, Gervaise moved to the  gangway to receive
the visitors. At their head was Battista Fragoso, the doge, in his
robe of state, and  following him were a body of the highest nobles
of Genoa, all brilliant in gala costume.

"This, my lord duke," Caretto said, "is Sir Gervaise Tresham, a
knight commander of our Order, and the  commander of this, their
galley. He has before, as you may well believe from his appointment
to so  honourable a post, highly distinguished himself, but what he
has before accomplished is far surpassed by  the brilliant action
that he has now achieved. He has won a victory that not only reflects
the highest honour  upon the Order, but is an inestimable service
to Italy, and has freed her from a corsair fleet that would have
been a scourge to her, both at sea and to the towns and villages
along the coast. Not only has he, with the  brave knights under
his orders, annihilated the corsair fleet, burning eleven of their
galleys, and capturing  thirteen others, but he has restored to
freedom no less than two hundred Christian captives, among them
the  cavaliers Giacomo da Vinci, Pietro Forzi, and myself."

"In the name of the Republic, Sir Gervaise Tresham, and I may say
in that of all Italy, I thank you most  heartily for the splendid
service that you have rendered us. It would have seemed to me well
nigh incredible  that a single galley, even if commanded and manned
by the most famous knights of your great Order,  should have
accomplished so extraordinary a feat. Still more strange is it that
it should have been  performed by so young a knight, with a crew
composed, as Sir Fabricius Caretto has told us, of knights  chosen
from among the youngest of the Order."

"You give far more credit to us, your Highness, than we deserve,"
Gervaise replied. "Three of the ships  were indeed captured in fair
fight, but we caught the rest asleep and massed together as to be
incapable of  successful resistance, and they fell easy victims to
the fire ships we launched against them. Any credit that  is due to
me is shared equally by my subcommander here, Sir Ralph Harcourt,
and indeed by every knight  of my company."

"This, doubtless, may be so, Sir Gervaise," the doge said, with a
slight smile, "but it is to the head that  plans, rather than to the
hand that strikes, that such success as you have achieved is due;
and the credit of  this night attack is, as the cavalier Caretto
tells me, wholly yours, for until you issued your final orders it
seemed to him, and to the two good knights his companions, that
there was naught to do but to remain in  port and watch this corsair
fleet sail away to carry out its work of destruction."

By this time they had reached the poop of the galley.  Gervaise
now called forward the knights one by one,  and presented them to
the doge, who expressed to them all the gratitude felt by himself
and the whole of the  citizens of Genoa for the service they had
rendered to the Republic.  This ceremony being over, the knights
broke up their ranks and conversed for a few minutes with those who
had come on board with the doge.  The latter then took his place
in the barge with his companions, inviting Gervaise and Ralph to
accompany  him. As the barge left the side of the galley, which
followed closely behind her, the guns again thundered  out their
welcome, and a roar of greeting rose from the inhabitants. On
landing, the party waited until the  knights had joined them, and
then proceeded up the street to the ducal palace, amidst enthusiastic
cheering  from the crowd that lined the road, occupied the windows
and balconies, and even scrambled on the  housetops, the ladies
waving their handkerchiefs and scarves.

At the palace were assembled all the municipal authorities, and
the congratulations given on board were  here repeated. After this
there was a great banquet, at which Gervaise was placed on the right
hand of the  doge, who, at the conclusion of the feast, called upon
the assembled guests to drink to the health of the  knights of St.
John, who had saved the commerce and seacoast of Italy from the
greatest danger that had  menaced them since the days when the
Northern rovers had desolated the shores of the Mediterranean. The
toast was drunk with enthusiasm, and Gervaise then replied with a
few words of thanks for the honour done  to himself and his comrades.

The party then left the banqueting hall for the great reception
rooms, where the wives and daughters of all  the nobles and principal
citizens of Genoa were assembled. Most of the young knights,
belonging as they  did to noble families, and accustomed from
childhood to courtly ceremonies and festivities, were quite at  home
here. Caretto, his two companions, and their six Italian comrades,
speedily introduced them, and each  was soon surrounded by a group
of ladies, anxious to hear from his lips the details of the exploits
of the  galley.

"But how is it that you are all so young, Sir Ralph?" one of the
ladies, to whom Harcourt had been  introduced as the second in
command, asked him, when he had finished his account of the capture
of the  galleys. "We heard from those who met you on landing, that
all your comrades were young, but we were  filled with surprise
when you entered the room, for many of them are but lads."

"You may say that all of us are but lads, Countess. I am the oldest
of the party, and am but little over  twenty-two, but few of the
others are over nineteen; they are all professed knights of the
Order, who, as you  doubtless know, come out to Rhodes when only
sixteen. Some, of course, do not join until later, but I think  that
all here entered at the earliest age permitted, and almost all had
served in two or three voyages in the  galleys before they were
appointed to the Santa Barbara. The reason why so young a crew was
chosen was  that our commander was also young. He had done such
exceptional service to the Order that he was  appointed to the
command of a galley, and he has, as all will allow, well justified
the choice. It was because  it was deemed inexpedient to place knights
many years his senior under his command, and partly, perhaps,  to
encourage the younger knights, by giving them an exceptional
opportunity of distinguishing themselves,  that the crew was chosen
entirely from their ranks. I was selected as second in command
because Gervaise  and I had been special friends when we came out
from England in the same ship, and had before fought  side by side
against the Moslems."

"I see that you wear gilded spurs, Sir Ralph," another lady said;
"you must therefore be a dubbed knight?"

"Yes; I had the good fortune to be knighted by D'Aubusson himself,
at the same time that Sir Gervaise was  also so honoured. It was
for an affair with the Turkish pirates. It was Gervaise who really
won the honour,  for I had no share in the affair, save that of
doing my best in the fight."

"And who could do more?" the countess queried.

"Gervaise could do more, Countess, as was shown in that attack on
the corsairs by means of fire ships. He  has a head to plan, and,
in the case I speak of, a happy thought of his not only saved the
lives of ourselves  and Sir John Boswell, but, indirectly, was
the means of preventing two of our galleys being captured by the
corsairs."

"Which is Sir Gervaise?" one of the ladies asked.

Ralph smiled.

"Look round the hall, signoras, and see if any of you can pick him
out from the rest of us."

The ladies looked round the hall.

"There are only about twenty here; the rest are in the other rooms.
Do not set us to work guessing, if he is  not in sight, Sir Ralph."

"Oh yes, he is in sight. Now do each of you fix on the one you think
most accords with your ideas of what a  knight, brave in action
and wise and prudent in council, would be like."

The six ladies each fixed on one of the young knights.

"You are all wrong," said Ralph.

"How can we choose?" the countess said laughingly, "when none of
them resemble our ideal hero? Most of  them are pleasant and courtly
looking youths, but as yet there is scarce a vestige of hair on
their faces, and  one could not fancy any of them as the destroyer
of the fleet of corsairs."

"Do you see the one speaking to the elderly lady in the recess?"

"Yes; she is the wife of Fragoso. You do not mean to say that that
lad is the commander of the galley?  Why, he looks the youngest of
you all."

"He is between seventeen and eighteen, and there are several others
who are no older. Yes, that is Sir  Gervaise, Knight Commander of
the Order of St. John."

"But how can he possibly have served his time as a professed knight?"

"He was one of the grand master's pages, and his time in that service
counted just as it would have done had  he entered as a professed
knight; and at fifteen, therefore, he stood in the same position
as those three or  four years older than himself. He speaks Turkish
as well as our own tongue, and, as I told you, we received  the
accolade at the hands of the grand master, a year and a half ago.
He is now a knight commander, and  will assuredly one day occupy
one of the highest posts in the Order."

"You do not speak as if you were jealous, Sir Ralph; and yet
methinks it cannot be pleasant for you all to  have one younger
than yourselves placed at your head."

"I do not think there is one of us who so feels," Ralph said earnestly.
"In the first place, he has performed  excellent service; in the
next place, even those who did not know him before, have felt,
since we started,  that he is a born leader. Then, too, we regard
with pride one who has brought credit upon the younger  members
of the Order.  Moreover, we all owe our posts in the galley to the
fact that he was chosen for its  command. It is a difficult position
for him to fill, but he has managed so that, while all obey his
orders as  cheerfully and willingly as if he were a veteran, when
off duty we regard him as one of ourselves."

"You are a staunch friend, Sir Ralph."

"I am a staunch friend of Sir Gervaise, Countess, for the more I
know of him the more I care for him. He  well deserves the promotion
and honour that have fallen to his share."

"Will you bring him across here to us, Sir Ralph? I want to talk
to this hero of yours, and I am sure that my  daughter is longing
to be introduced to him."

Ralph waited until Gervaise was disengaged, and then brought him
across, and, after introducing him,  moved away at once, leaving
Gervaise to be interrogated by the ladies.

"You must be accustomed to festivities, Sir Gervaise, for we have
just heard that you were one of the grand  master's pages?"

"I am accustomed to them, signora; but that is not at all the same
thing as liking them."

The reply was given so earnestly that all the ladies smiled.

"Your taste is quite exceptional. Do you mean to say that you would
rather be on board your galley than  here?"

"It would not be polite," Gervaise said, with a laugh, "if I were
to say that I would infinitely rather be on  board; but indeed I have
not, like most of my comrades, been brought up in court or castle.
Until the day I  joined the Order, we led the lives of exiles. My
father belonged to the defeated party in England, and, save  for a
few months when the cause to which he was attached was triumphant,
we lived quietly on the estates  he had recovered, our life being
one of care and anxiety. So, you see, I had no training in gaiety
and  pleasure. At Rhodes there are state receptions and religious
pageants, but a meeting such as this, is, of  course, impossible
in a convent; and since I was eleven years old I think I have only
once spoken to a  woman. So you can well understand, signora, that
I feel awkward in speech, and I pray you to make  allowance for my
ignorance of the language of courtesy, such as would naturally be
expected in a knight,  even though belonging to a religious Order."

"There is naught to make allowance for," the countess said gently.
"Women can appreciate simple truth,  and are not, as men seem to
think, always yearning for compliments.  Those who are most proficient
in  turning phrases are not often among those foremost in battle,
or wisest in council, and I can tell you that we  women value deeds
far higher than words. Sir Fabricius Caretto is a cousin of mine,
and has this afternoon  been speaking so highly of you to me and my
young daughter here, that I am glad indeed to make your  acquaintance.
How long do you intend to stay in Genoa?"

"No longer than it will take me to engage men to carry the prizes
to Rhodes. I am afraid that sounds rude,"  he broke off, as he
noticed a smile on the faces of the ladies.

"Not rude," said the countess; "though most knights would have put
it differently, and said that their duty  compelled them to leave
as soon as the prizes could be manned. But it comes to the same
thing. Of course,  you will remain the guest of the doge as long
as you are here; otherwise, it would have given us the greatest
pleasure to have entertained you. My cousin is, of course, staying
with us, and you see we all feel a very  deep obligation to you.  He
has been so long a slave among the Moors, that we had almost come
to hope  death had freed him from his fetters; so you may imagine
our pleasure when he arrived here so suddenly  ten days ago. We
were expecting that he would remain with us for some time, but he
says that he must first  go back to Rhodes, after which he will
ask for leave, and return here. We have a banquet tomorrow evening
to celebrate his return, and earnestly hoped that you would be
present, but, since you say that you do not  care for such gaieties,
we shall, if you prefer it, be glad if you will come to join us at
our family meal at  twelve."

"Thank you, countess, I should very greatly prefer it, and it will
give me real pleasure to come."

"Your friend, Sir Ralph Harcourt, has been telling us how you have
destroyed the corsair fleet that has been  so alarming us. He, too,
is an Englishman, though he speaks Italian well."

"Yes, he speaks it a great deal better than I do," Gervaise said.
"He is a dear friend of mine, and it is,  indeed, chiefly owing
to his support and influence that I have been able to manage so
pleasantly and well in  the command of a body of young knights,
most of whom are my seniors."

"He tells us that you speak Turkish?"

"Yes; I thought that it would be very useful, and spent nearly a
year in acquiring it, the bailiff of my langue  being kind enough
to relieve me of all other duties. I was fortunate enough to find
in one of the servants of  the auberge a well educated and widely
informed Turk, who was a very pleasant companion, as well as an
excellent instructor, and I learnt much from him besides his language.
The knowledge of Turkish has  already proved to me most useful, and
was indeed the means by which I obtained both my commandery  and
my appointment as captain of the galley."

"Perhaps you will tell us the story tomorrow; that is, if it is
too long to tell us now?"

"It is indeed much too long; but if it will interest you I shall
be glad to recount it tomorrow."

The next day Gervaise went to the palace of the Countess Da Forli.
She was a widow with no children,  except Claudia, the young daughter
who had accompanied her to the fete the evening before. Caretto,
and  four or five relations of the family, were the only guests
beside himself.  It was a quiet and sociable meal,  and served with
less ceremony than usual, as the countess wished to place Gervaise
as much as possible at  his ease. During the meal but little was
said about the affair with the pirates, Caretto telling them some
of  his experiences as a captive.

"It is well, Claudia," he said, laughing, "that you did not see
me at the time I was rescued, for I was such a  scarecrow that you
would never have been able to regard me with due and proper respect
afterwards. I was  so thin that my bones almost came through my
skin."

"You are thin enough now, cousin," the girl said.

"I have gained so much weight during the last ten days that I
begin to fear that I shall, ere long, get too fat  to buckle on my
armour. But, bad as the thinness was, it was nothing to the dirt.
Moreover, I was coming  near to losing my voice.  There was nothing
for us to talk about in our misery, and often days passed  without
a word being exchanged between Da Vinci, Forzi, and myself. Do you
know I felt almost more  thankful for the bath and perfumes than
I did for my liberty.  I was able at once to enjoy the comfort of
the  one, while it was some time before I could really assure myself
that my slavery was over, and that I was a  free man again."

"And now, Sir Gervaise," the countess said, when the meal was over,
"it is your turn. Claudia is longing to  hear your story, and to
know how you came to be in command of a galley."

"And I am almost as anxious," Caretto said. "I did not like to ask
the question on board the galley, and have  been looking forward
to learning it when I got to Rhodes. I did, indeed, ask the two
knights who  accompanied me on my mission here, but they would
only tell me that every one knew you had performed  some very great
service to the Order, and that it concerned some intended rising
among the slaves, the  details being known to only a few, who had
been, they understood, told that it was not to be repeated."

"It was a very simple matter," Gervaise said, "and although the
grand master and council were pleased to  take a very favourable
view of it, it was, in fact, a question of luck, just as was the
surprise of the corsairs.  There is really no secret about it --
at least, except in Rhodes: there it was thought best not to speak
of it,  because the fact that the attempt among the slaves was
almost successful, might, if generally known,  encourage others to
try to escape, and perhaps with greater success. I told you last
night, Countess, that I  had only once before in the last six or
seven years spoken to a woman, and it was on that occasion that
the  adventure, so far as I was concerned, had its commencement."

He then, beginning at his visit with Ralph Harcourt to the Greek
merchant and his family on the roof of the  house, recounted
the suspicions he had entertained, the manner in which they were
confirmed, and the  method by which he had discovered the plot for
the rising. He was interrupted several times when he  attempted to
abbreviate the story, or to omit some of the details, and there were
exclamations of surprise at  his proposal to personate a Turkish
prisoner, and to share the lot of the slaves in their prison, and
on the  benches of the galley.

"I had no idea, Sir Gervaise," Caretto said, when he had concluded,
"that you too had been a galley slave,  and I understand now the care
you showed to render the lot of the rowers as easy as possible. It
was a  splendid scheme, and well carried out. Indeed, I no longer
wonder that you were appointed to the command  of a galley, and
received a rich commandery in England at the hands of the grand
master himself. What  think you, Countess; did I speak too highly
in his favour?"

"Not one jot, cousin. Why, Sir Gervaise, it seems to me that you
have been born two centuries too late, and  that you should have
been a knight errant, instead of being sworn to obey orders, and
bound to celibacy. Do  you wear no lady's favour in your helm? I
know that not a few of your Order do so."

"As I have said, Countess, I know no ladies who would bestow favours
upon me; in the second place, I am  but eighteen, and it would be
ridiculous for me to think of such matters; lastly, it seems to me
that, being  vowed to the Order, I can desire no other mistress."

Claudia, who had listened with rapt attention to the story, whispered
in her mother's ear. The latter smiled.

"It seems to me, Sir Gervaise," she went on, "that after what you
have done for Italy there are many fair  maidens who would feel it
an honour that their colours should be borne by one who has shown
himself so  valiant a knight.  You see, a gage of this kind does
not necessarily mean that there is any deep feeling  between the
knight who bears it and the lady who bestows it; it shows only that
she, on her part, feels it an  honour that her gage should be worn
by a distinguished knight, and, on his part, that he considers it
as  somewhat more than a compliment, and wears it as a proof of
regard on the part of one whose good opinion  at least he values.
It is true that among secular knights it may mean even more than
this, but it ought not to  mean more among knights of an Order like
yours, pledged to devote their lives to a lofty and holy aim. My
daughter Claudia whispers to me that she would deem it an honour
indeed if you would wear her token,  accepting it in the spirit in
which I have spoken. She is fourteen now, and, as you know, a maid
of fourteen  here is as old as one of sixteen or seventeen in your
country."

Gervaise turned to the girl, who was standing by her mother's chair,
looking earnestly at him. He had  noticed her the evening before;
she had asked no questions, but had listened so intently that he
had felt  almost embarrassed.  Claudia's was a very bright face,
and yet marked by firmness and strength. He turned  his eyes again
to the countess.

"I never thought of wearing a woman's favour," he said; "but if
your daughter will bestow one upon me, I  shall be proud to wear
it, and trust that I may carry it unstained. I shall feel honoured
indeed that one so  fair, and, as I am sure by her face, so
deserving of all the devotion that a knight of our Order can give,
has  thought me worthy of being one of those on whom she could
bestow so high a favour, with the confidence  that it would be ever
borne with credit and honour."

"What shall I give him, mother?" Claudia asked the countess, without
a shadow of the embarrassment with  which Gervaise had spoken.

"Not a kerchief, Claudia. In the rough work of the knights, it
could not be kept without spot or stain.   Moreover, if I judge
Sir Gervaise rightly, methinks he would prefer some token that he
could wear without  exciting attention and remark from his comrades.
Go, fetch him any of your jewels you may think fit."

"Then I will give him this," the girl said; and unfastening a thin
gold chain she wore round her neck, she  pulled up a heart shaped
ornament, in pink coral set in gold and pearls.

Her mother uttered a low exclamation of dissent.

"I know, mother; it was your last gift, and I prize it far beyond
anything I have; therefore, it is all the more  fit to be my token."
Then she turned to Gervaise, and went on, without the slightest
tremor in her voice, or  accession of colour in her cheeks. "Sir
Gervaise Tresham, I bestow upon you this my favour, and shall  deem
it an honour indeed to know that it is borne by one so brave and
worthy. You said that you would be  glad to be one of those who
bore my favours. You will be more than that, for I vow to you that
while you  live no other knight shall wear a favour of mine."

"Claudia!" her mother said disapprovingly.

"I know what I am saying, mother. I have often wondered why maidens
should so carelessly bestow their  favours upon every knight who
begged for them, and have said to myself that when my time came I
would  grant it but once, and only then to one whom I deemed worthy
of it in all ways -- one in whose loyalty and  honour I could trust
implicitly, and who would regard it as something sacred, deeming it
an honour to wear  it, as being the pledge of my trust and esteem.
Kneel, Sir Gervaise, while I fasten this round your neck."

Gervaise took out the small brooch, that fastened the collar of
his silken doublet, and then knelt on one  knee.  The girl fastened
the clasp round his neck, and as he rose he hid the heart beneath
the doublet, and  fastened the collar.

"Lady Claudia," he said earnestly, "I accept your favour in the
spirit in which you bestow it. So long as I  live I shall prize
and value it beyond any honour I may gain, and as I feel it next
to my heart, it will ever  recall to me that you gave it me as a
pledge of your esteem and trust, and I will strive to the utmost
so to  bear myself that I may be worthy of the gift."

None of the others spoke while the little ceremony was being
performed. Caretto glanced at the countess  with an amused smile,
but the latter looked grave, and somewhat vexed. However, she made
an effort to  dispel the cloud on her face, and, when Gervaise ceased
speaking, said, "This has been a somewhat more  serious business
than I intended, Sir Gervaise. But do not think that I regret in
any way the course it has  taken; 'tis well for a maiden on the
threshold of womanhood that she should place before herself a lofty
ideal, and that she should entertain a warm feeling of friendship
for one worthy of it. So also it is good for a  young knight to
know that he has the trust and confidence of a pure and innocent
maiden; such a  knowledge will aid him to be in all ways true to
the vows he has taken, and to remember always that he is  bound to
be not only a valiant knight of his Order, but a sincere soldier
of the Cross."

Then she went on more lightly. "Have you heard, Sir Gervaise, that
there is a question of making you a  noble of Genoa?"

"No, indeed," Gervaise replied, in great surprise; "such an idea
never entered into my thoughts."

"Nevertheless, I know that it was spoken of last night, and although
it has not yet been finally settled, and  will not be until the
council meet this afternoon, I should not tell you if I did not
think that it was as good as  agreed upon; and I am pleased to
be the first to whisper to you that it is intended to bestow upon
you an  honour that is jealously guarded and seldom granted, even
to crowned heads, unless as a token of gratitude  for some signal
service done to the Republic."

"I should feel most honoured and most grateful, Countess, for so
extraordinary a favour, did I feel that I had  done any extraordinary
action to merit it. There can be no doubt that the destruction
of the corsairs has  saved Genoa and all the maritime towns from
immense loss by damage to their trade, and by the raids that  would
have been made at various points on the coast. But I cannot see
that the mere fact that we have  destroyed their fleet merits any
marked honour. They were caught in a trap, and half of them burned,
and  this might have been done equally as well by the Sardinian
fishermen, unarmed, and without our aid. As to  the fighting, it
was of small account. The first three craft we captured offered
a much stouter resistance, and  we lost two of our number; but in
the other affair no knight was killed, or even seriously wounded,
and  believe me, Countess, I feel absolutely ashamed at the fuss
that is made over it. It seems to me that I am a  sort of impostor,
obtaining credit under false pretences."

"No man is a fair judge of his own actions, Sir Gervaise," Caretto
said. "A man may believe himself a  Solon, or a Roland; others may
consider him as a fool, or an empty braggart; and it must be taken
that the  general opinion of the public is the judgment from which
there is no appeal.  It is not the mob of Genoa  only who regard
the services that you have rendered as extraordinary, but it is
the opinion of the councillors  and authorities of the Republic,
and of those who, like myself, have borne our share in warfare, that
not  only is the service great, but that it is due to the singular
ability with which you, in command of only a  single galley, have
wholly destroyed or captured the fleet that threatened our commerce.
As our  councillors, therefore, all competent judges, are unanimous
in their opinion that you have deserved the  highest honours that
Genoa can bestow upon you, it is useless for you to set up your own
opinion to the  contrary. Take the good things that fall to you,
Sir Gervaise, and be thankful. It is seldom that men obtain  more
honours than they deserve, while it very often happens that they
deserve far more than they obtain.   Fortune has doubtless some
share in every man's career; but when it is not once, but several
times, that a  knight gains special credit for deeds he has performed,
we may be sure that fortune has less to do with the  matter than
his personal merits. Three times have you earned special credit;
upon the first occasion, the  grand master -- no mean judge of
conduct and character -- deemed you worthy of secular knighthood,
an  honour which has not, in my memory, been bestowed at Rhodes upon
any young knight; on the second, you  were promoted to the command
of a galley, though never before has such a command been given to
any,  save knights of long experience; and now, for the third time,
the councillors of one of the greatest of Italian  cities are about
to do you honour. It is good to be modest, Sir Gervaise, and it
is better to underestimate  than to overrate one's own merits, but
it is not well to carry the feeling to an extreme. I am quite sure
that in  your case your disclaimer is wholly sincere and unaffected;
but take my advice, accept the honours the  world may pay you as
not undeserved, determining only in your mind that if you deem them
excessive, you  will at least do all in your power to show that
they are not ill bestowed. You will not, I trust, take my  counsel
amiss."

"On the contrary, Sir Fabricius," Gervaise said warmly.  "I am really
but a boy yet, though by good fortune  pushed strangely forward,
and I am glad indeed to receive council from a knight of vastly
greater  experience than myself and, in future, however much I may
be conscious in my own mind that anything I  have done is greatly
overrated, I will at least abstain from protest. And now, Countess,
I must pray you to  excuse me. I know that Sir Ralph Harcourt is,
before this, down at the dockyard waiting my coming to  engage
sailors."

"You will come tomorrow at the same time, I hope, Sir Gervaise. As
Claudia's sworn knight we have now a  claim upon you, and for the
short time that you remain here you must regard this as your home,
although  you must necessarily remain the guest of the doge."

"He is a fine young fellow, indeed," Caretto said, after Gervaise
had left. "There is no affectation about his  modesty, and he really
considers that this success he has gained is solely a stroke of
good fortune. Of  course, I have been asking many questions about
him of the young knights of his own langue, Harcourt  among them.
They tell me that he is always in earnest in everything he undertakes.
He is without a rival  among the younger knights of the convent in
his skill in arms, and for strength and activity in all exercises;
he seems to care nothing for the ordinary amusements in which they
join at Rhodes, and for nine months  was scarcely ever seen by those
in the auberge, save when they gathered for meals, so continuously
did he  work to acquire a perfect command of Turkish. How thoroughly
he succeeded is evident from the fact that  he was able to live
among the galley slaves without exciting any suspicions in their
minds that he was other  than he pretended to be, a Syrian captive.
That he is brave goes without saying, though perhaps no braver  than
the majority of his companions.  The extraordinary thing about him
is that although, as he himself  says, little more than a boy, he
has the coolness to plan, and the head to carry out, schemes that
would do  credit to the most experienced captain. He is already a
credit to the Order, and, should he live, will  assuredly rise to
the highest offices in it, and may even die its grand master. In the
stormy times that are  coming on, there will be ample opportunities
for him still further to distinguish himself, and to fulfil the
singular promise of his youth. That he possesses great tact, as
well as other qualities, is shown by the  enthusiasm with which
his companions regard him. In no case, among those to whom I have
spoken, have I  discerned the smallest jealousy of him. The tact
that is needed to stand thus among fifty young knights,  almost all
his seniors in age, will assuredly enable him later on to command
the confidence and affection of  older men."

When the other guests had left, and Caretto only remained, the
countess turned to Claudia. "You went too  far, Claudia. I was
willing enough, when you asked me, that you should bestow a favour
upon him. Most  young knights wear such a favour, which may be
a sign of devotion, but which far more frequently is a  piece of
gallantry. In the case of a knight hospitaller it can only be the
latter; it is in his case merely a sign  that he has so distinguished
himself that some maiden feels a pride that her gift should be
carried into battle  by him, and, on his part, that he too is proud
of the gift so bestowed by one whose goodwill he prizes. In  that
way I was willing that you should grant him your favour.  But the
manner in which you gave it was far  more serious than the occasion
warranted, and your promise to grant no similar favour to another
as long as  he lived, surprised, and, I may almost say, shocked me.
You are, according to our custom here, considered  almost a woman,
and had not Sir Gervaise belonged to a religious Order, and were he
of a presuming  disposition, he might well have gathered a meaning
from your words far beyond what you intended, and  have even
entertained a presumptuous hope that you were not indifferent to
his merits. In the present case,  of course, no harm is done; still,
methinks that it would be far better had the words been unspoken.
Your  cousin here will, I am sure, agree with me."

Caretto did not speak, but stood playing with his moustache, waiting
for Claudia's reply. The girl had stood  with downcast eyes while
her mother was speaking.

"I only expressed what I felt, mother," she said, after a pause, "and
I do not think that Sir Gervaise Tresham  is likely to misunderstand
me. It seems to me that never among those whom I have met have I
seen one so  worthy. No praises can be higher than those with which
my cousin has spoken of him. He has rescued him,  whom we dearly
love, from slavery; he has saved Genoa from great disaster, and
many towns and villages  from plunder and ruin. I do indeed feel
proud that such a knight should wear my gage, and, were there no
other reason, I should be unwilling that, so long as he carried
it, another should possess a similar one from  me. I am sure that
Sir Gervaise will have felt that this was the meaning of my words;
I wished him to see  that it was not a favour lightly given by a girl
who might, a few weeks hence, bestow a similar one upon  another,
but was a gage seriously given of the honour in which I held him."

"Very well said, Claudia," Caretto broke in, before the countess
could reply. "I warrant me the young  knight will not misunderstand
your gift, and that he will prize it highly and carry it nobly.
He is not one of  those who will boast of a favour and display it
all times, and, except perhaps to his friend Sir Ralph  Harcourt,
I will wager he never tells a soul who was its donor."

When Claudia shortly afterwards left the room, he said to the
countess, "Excuse me for breaking in,  Agatha, but I felt that it
was much better to agree with her, and not to make overmuch of the
matter; she is  just of an age to make some one a hero, and she
could hardly have chosen a better subject for her worship.  In
the first place, he is a knight of St. John; in the second, he is
going away in a few days, perhaps  tomorrow, and may never cross
her path again.  The thought of him will prevent her fancy from
straying for  a time, and keep her heart whole until you decide on
a suitor for her hand."

"Nevertheless, I would rather that it had not been so.  Claudia
is not given to change, and this may last long  enough to cause
trouble when I bring forward the suitor you speak of."

"Well, in any case it might be worse," Caretto said philosophically.
And then, with a smile in answer to her  look of inquiry, "Knights
of the Order have, ere now, obtained release from their vows."

"Fabricius!" the countess exclaimed, in a shocked voice.

"Yes, I know, Agatha, that the child is one of the richest heiresses
in Italy, but for that very reason it needs  not that her husband
should have wide possessions. In all other respects you could wish
for no better. He  will assuredly be a famous knight; he is the
sort of man to make her perfectly happy; and, lastly, you know  I
cannot forget that I owe my liberation from slavery to him. At any
rate, Agatha, as I said before, he may  never cross her path again,
and you may, a year or two hence, find her perfectly amenable to
your wishes."



CHAPTER XVII CAPTURED


Upon the following day the doge requested Gervaise to accompany
him to a meeting of the council.  Upon  entering the grand hall he
found not only the members of the council assembled in their robes
of office, but  a large gathering of the nobles and principal
citizens of Genoa, together with the knights of the galley  whom,
under Ralph Harcourt's orders, Gervaise found, to his surprise, drawn
up in order across the Hall.  Here, in the name of the Republic,
Battista Fragoso announced to him that, by the unanimous decision
of  the council, he had been elected a noble of Genoa; an honour,
he added, on only one or two previous  occasions in the history of
the Republic bestowed upon any but of princely rank, but which he
had nobly  earned by the great service he had rendered to the State.
His name was then inscribed in the book  containing the names and
titles of the nobles of Genoa.  Next, Battista Fragoso presented
him with a superb  suit of Milanese armour, as his own personal
gift, and then with a casket of very valuable jewels, as the gift
of the city of Genoa.  Each presentation was accompanied by the
plaudits of the assembly, and by the no  less warm acclamations
of the knights. Ralph was then called forward, and presented with
a suit of armour  but little inferior to that given to Gervaise, and
each knight received a heavy gold chain of the finest  workmanship
of Genoa.

Two days later the preparations for departure were complete, and
a sufficient number of men were engaged  to man the prizes. This
charge, also, Genoa took upon itself, and put on board much stronger
crews than  Gervaise deemed necessary for the navigation of the
ships. The weather was fine and the wind favourable,  and a quick
passage was made to Rhodes. When the harbour was in sight, the
ships were ordered to proceed  in single file, the galley leading
the way with a huge banner of the Order floating from her stern,
and  smaller flags on staffs at each side. It was not until they
passed by the two forts guarding the entrance that  the flags
fluttering at the mastheads of the prizes afforded to those on
shore an intimation of the event that  had taken place, and even
then none supposed that this fleet of prizes had been taken by the
one galley that  headed them.

As the Santa Barbara slowly rowed up the harbour, the State barge
of the grand master put off to meet it,  and D'Aubusson, with a
party of knights, soon stepped on board.

"Welcome back, Sir Gervaise! although I little expected to see
you return so soon. What is the meaning of  this procession that
follows you? By their rig and appearance they are Moors, but how
they come to be thus  sailing in your wake is a mystery to us all."

"They are Moors, your Excellency; they form part of an expedition
fitted out by the corsairs of Algiers,  Tripoli, Tunis, and other
piratical strongholds, for the purpose of destroying the commerce
and ravaging the  coasts of Western Italy. Fortunately, we fell
in with a ship that had been plundered by three of them on  their
way north, and learned from the dying captain, who was the only
one of her crew left with life on  board, the direction they were
taking, and something of the nature of the expedition. We pursued
the three  galleys, came up with them, had the good fortune to capture
them, and then had the delight of finding  among their rowers the
noble knights, Fabricius Caretto, Giacomo Da Vinci, and Pietro
Forzi."

The grand master, and the knights with him, uttered an exclamation
of joy, and, as the three knights named  stepped forward, embraced
them with the liveliest pleasure.

"My dear Caretto," the grand master exclaimed, "it is almost a
resurrection, for we have all long mourned  you as dead; and your
return to us at the present time is indeed fortunate; for upon
whose judgment and aid  could I better rely than those of my old
comrade in arms?" Then, turning to Gervaise, he went on: "It was
a  daring and brilliant exploit indeed, Sir Gervaise, and in due
time honour shall be paid to you and your brave  companions, to
whom and to you I now tender the thanks of the Order. But tell me
the rest briefly, for I  would fain hear from these noble knights
and old friends the story of what has befallen them."

"My tale is a very brief one, your Highness. The Cavalier Caretto
sailed at once in a swift craft from the  south of Sardinia, to
carry warnings to the cities on the coast of Italy of the danger
that threatened them,  and in order that some war galleys might be
despatched by Genoa to meet the corsair fleet. During his  absence
we discovered the little inlet in which the pirates lay hidden,
waiting doubtless the arrival of the  three ships we had captured,
to commence operations. On the return of the knight with the news
that it  would be at least a fortnight before Genoa could fit out
any galleys, and fearing that the pirates might at any  moment put
to sea, we procured some small Sardinian craft, and fitted them
as fire ships; with the captives  we had rescued, and some Sard
fishermen, we manned the three prizes, distributing the knights
between  them, and at night launched the fire ships against the
corsairs, whose ships were crowded together. Eleven  of them were
burnt; six we captured as they endeavoured to make their way out,
and took possession of  four others whose crews had run them ashore
and deserted them. None escaped."

Exclamations of astonishment and almost of incredulity broke from
the knights.

"And is it possible, Sir Gervaise, that these thirteen vessels that
follow you are all prizes captured by your  galley alone?"

"It is, as I have the honour to tell your Highness. But their
capture, except in the case of the first three, was  due almost
solely to good fortune and to the position in which we found them,
almost incapable of  defence."

"What think you, knights and comrades?" the grand master said
to his companions. "There were some of  you who deemed it rash to
entrust a galley to so young a commander and so youthful a crew.
What say you  now?  Never in the annals of the Order has such
a sight been witnessed as that of thirteen prizes being  brought
in by a single galley, to say naught of eleven others destroyed.
Caretto, you and your comrades  must have had some share in this
marvellous victory."

"By no means," the Italian replied; "beyond having the honour
of aiding to carry out the orders of Sir  Gervaise Tresham, the
commander of the galley. The plan was wholly of his own devising,
its execution  solely due to his arrangement of the details, and
that without the slightest suggestion on the part of myself  or my
comrades. I will presently narrate to you the whole story; it will
come better from my lips than from  those of Sir Gervaise, whose
disposition is to wholly underestimate the merit of the action he has
performed. But I must also bear testimony, not only to the bravery
displayed by Sir Gervaise, Sir Ralph  Harcourt, his lieutenant, and
every one of the knights his crew, but to the admirable discipline,
order, and  good fellowship on board the galley, which would have
done credit to the most experienced commander  and to the most
veteran knights of the Order."

The grand master paused a moment, and then said in a loud voice,
"Sir Gervaise Tresham, Sir Ralph  Harcourt, and knights of the
seven langues of the Order -- As yet I can hardly appreciate the
full extent of  the service that you have rendered. I thanked you
but now for the capture of three corsairs; but what can I  say when
I learn that you have destroyed or taken a whole fleet? I invite
you all to a banquet that I shall  hold tonight, where the Cavalier
Caretto will relate to us all the details of this marvellous
exploit."

Within a few minutes after the return of the grand master and his
party ashore, the flags of the Order were  run up to the flagstaffs
of every fort and bastion: the bells of the churches chimed out a
triumphant peal,  and a salute was fired from the guns of the three
water forts, while along the wall facing the port, the  townspeople
waved numberless gay flags as a welcome to the galley. Most of the
knights went ashore at  once, but Gervaise, under the excuse that
he wished to see that everything was in order before landing,
remained on board until it was time to go to the banquet, being sure
that by that time the knights would  have fully told the story at
their respective auberges, and that there would be no more questions
to answer.  The banquet differed but little from that at Genoa,
and Gervaise was heartily glad when it was over.

The next day the grand master sent for him.

"If I judge rightly, Sir Gervaise, the thing that will best please
you at present, is an order to put to sea again  at once, to conclude
the usual period of service of the galley."

"It is indeed," Gervaise replied earnestly. "But I should be glad,
sir, if you will allow that the time should  begin to count afresh
from our present start. We have really had but a short period of
service, for we wasted  a week at Genoa, and ten days on our journey
back here, so that we have had really no more than a month's  active
service."

"Yes, if you count only by time," D'Aubusson said, with a smile.
"Reckoning by results, you have done a  good five years' cruise.
However, so small a request can certainly be granted. The places of
the two knights  who were killed, and of four others whose wounds
are reported to me as being too severe for them to be fit  for
service for some time, shall be filled up at once from the langues
to which each belonged. You will  cruise among the Western islands,
whence complaints have reached us of a corsair who has been  plundering
and burning. Sometimes he is heard of as far north as Negropont,
at others he is off the south of  the Morea; then, again, we hear
of him among the Cyclades.  We have been unwilling to despatch
another  galley, for there is ample employment for every one here.
After the blow you have struck on the Moorish  corsairs, they are
likely to be quiet for a little. You had best, therefore, try for
a time if you cannot come  across this pirate. You must let me know
how much you paid for the vessels you used as fire ships, and to
the Sards; this is an expense chargeable to the general service.
I may tell you that to me it is due that no  recognition of your
exploits, such as that which Genoa bestowed upon you, will be made.
At the council  this morning it was urged that some signal mark
of honour should be granted; but I interposed, saying that  you
had already received exceptional promotion, and that it would not
be for your good, or that of the  Order, for so young a knight to
be raised to an official position of a character usually held by
seniors, and  that I was perfectly sure you would prefer remaining
in command of your galley to any promotion whatever  that would
retain you on the Island."

"Indeed I should, your Highness. I wish to gain experience and to
do service to the Order, and so far from  pleasing me, promotion
would trouble and distress me, and, could it have been done, I
would most gladly  have sent home the prizes, instead of going to
Genoa, and would myself have continued the cruise."

"So the Cavalier Caretto told me," the grand master replied. "Very
well, then. In three days you shall set out  again. The admiral
tells me that never before has a galley returned with the slaves
in such good health and  condition, and that unquestionably your
plan of erecting an awning to shelter them from the midday heat  and
the night dews has had a most beneficial effect on their health;
he has recommended its general  adoption."

Three days later the Santa Barbara again left port, and was soon
upon her station. For some weeks she  cruised backwards and forwards
along the coast and among the islands. They often heard of the
pirate ship,  but all their efforts to find her were unavailing.

One evening there were signs of a change of weather, and by morning
it was blowing a furious gale from  the north; in spite of the
efforts of the rowers, the galley narrowly escaped being driven
ashore; but she at  last gained the shelter of an island, and anchored
under its lee, the slaves being utterly worn out by  continuous
exertion. As soon as the gale abated they again put to sea, and,
after proceeding for some miles,  saw a ship cast up on shore.
Some people could be made out on board of her, and a white flag
was raised.

"She must have been driven ashore during the gale," Gervaise said.
"We will row in to within a quarter of a  mile of her and see what
we can do for them."

As soon as the anchor was dropped a boat was lowered.

"I will go myself, Ralph, for I shall be glad to set my foot on
shore again. There must be people on the  island; I wonder none
of them have come to the aid of those poor fellows. I suppose the
villages are on the  other side of the island, and they have not
yet heard of the wreck."

Gervaise asked three of the knights to accompany him, and the boat,
rowed by galley slaves, was soon on  its way.  All were glad at
the change afforded to the monotony of their life on board, and at
the prospect of  a scamper on shore.

There were but five or six men to be seen on the deck of the wreck,
and these had, as the boat approached,  come down to the rocks as
if to meet those who came to their aid; but as the knights leapt
out, they threw  themselves suddenly upon them with knives and
scimitars that had hitherto been concealed beneath their  garments,
while at the same moment a crowd of men appeared on the deck of
the ship, and, leaping down,  ran forward with drawn swords.  Two
of the knights fell dead before they had time to draw their weapons.
The third shook off his two assailants, and for a minute kept them
both at bay; but others, rushing up, cut  him down.

Gervaise had received a slight wound before he realised what was
happening. He snatched his dagger from  its sheath, and struck down
one assailant; but ere he could raise it to strike again, another
leapt on to his  back, and clung there until the rest rushed up,
when he shouted, "Take him alive! take him alive!" and,  throwing
down their weapons, half a dozen of the pirates flung themselves
upon Gervaise, and strove to  pull him to the ground, until at last,
in spite of his desperate resistance, they succeeded in doing so.
His  armour was hastily stripped off, his hands and feet bound,
and then at the orders of the pirate who had leapt  on his back,
and who was evidently the captain, half a dozen men lifted him
on to their shoulders. As they  did so four guns from the galley
flashed out, and the balls flew overhead. The pirates, who had
already  begun to quarrel over the armour and arms of the fallen
knights, at once took to their heels, followed by the  galley slaves
from the boat.

"Make haste," the captain said to the men carrying Gervaise.

"They are lowering their boats; we must be under way before they
come up."

In a minute or two Gervaise was set down on his feet, the cords
round his legs were cut, and he was made  to hurry along with his
captors. In a short time an inlet was reached, and here Gervaise
saw, to his  mortification, the pirate craft for which the Santa
Barbara had in vain been searching. As soon as the party  were
all on board, the ropes by which she was moored to two trees were
thrown off; the great sails hoisted,  and she sailed boldly out.
Although the gale had entirely abated, there was still a brisk wind
blowing, and it  was evident to the captain of the corsair that
under such circumstances he could outsail the galley that had  long
been searching for him; when, therefore, the Santa Barbara came in
sight, just as he and his crew had  finished stripping the wreck
of its contents, the idea had occurred to him to attempt to entice
some of the  knights to land.

As soon as the vessel was under way he abused his followers hotly
for not having obeyed his orders to  capture the knights without
bloodshed; but they pleaded that it was as much as they had been
able to do to  capture Gervaise in that way, and that they could
never have overcome the four together, before the boats  would have
had time to come from the ship.

Gervaise had been told to sit down with his back to a mast and
in this position he could, when the vessel  heeled over to the
breeze, obtain a view of the sea. It was with a feeling of bitter
mortification and rage that  he saw the galley lying but half a
mile away, as the corsair issued from the inlet. A moment later he
heard a  gun fired, and saw the signal hoisted to recall the boats.

"If the wind had been favourable," the captain said to his mate,
"we would have borne down upon her, and  could have reached and
captured her before the boats got back, for you may be sure that
they have landed  almost all their men. However, we can't get there
against the wind, and we will now say goodbye to them."

Gervaise knew well that at the pace they were running through the
water the galley would have no chance  whatever of overtaking her,
and that, ere the knights came on board again, she would be already
two or  three miles away. A point of land soon concealed the galley
from view, and when he caught sight of her, as  she rounded the
point, she was but a speck in the distance.

They passed several islands in the course of the day, changing
their direction to a right angle to that which  they had at first
pursued, as soon as they were hidden from the sight of the galley by
an intervening island.  As night came on they anchored in a little
bay on the coast of the Morea.  The sails being furled, the sailors
made a division of the booty they had captured on the island, and
of the portable property found on board  the wreck. A gourd full of
water was placed to Gervaise's lips by one of the men of a kinder
disposition  than the rest. He drank it thankfully, for he was
parched with thirst excited by the pain caused by the  tightness
with which he had been bound.

He slept where he sat. All night four men remained on guard, although
from what he heard they had no fear  whatever of being overtaken.
In the morning his arms were unbound, and they stripped off his
tunic and  shirt. They had evidently respect for his strength, for
before loosing his arms they tightly fastened his  ankles together.
The removal of his shirt exposed Claudia's gift to view.

"Take that from him and give it to me," the captain said. As the
two men approached, Gervaise seized one  in each hand, dashed them
against each other, and hurled them on the deck. But the exertion
upset his  equilibrium, and after making a vain effort to recover
it, he fell heavily across them. The captain stooped  over him,
and, before he could recover himself, snatched the chain from his
neck.

"You are a stout fellow," he said, laughing, "and will make a fine
slave. What have you got here that you  are ready to risk your life
for?" He looked at the little chain and its pendant with an air of
disappointment.  "'Tis worth but little," he said, showing it to
his mate. "I would not give five ducats for it in the market. It
must be a charm, or a knight would never carry it about with him and
prize it so highly. It may be to things  like this the Christians
owe their luck."

"It has not brought him luck this time," the mate observed with a
laugh.

"Even a charm cannot always bring good luck, but at any rate I will
try it; " and he put it round his neck just  as Gervaise had worn
it. The latter was now unbound, and permitted to move about the
deck. The strength  he had shown in the struggle on shore, and
the manner in which he had hurled, bound as he was, two of  their
comrades to the deck, had won for him the respect of his captors,
and he was therefore allowed  privileges not granted to the seamen
of the vessel that had had the ill fortune to be cast on shore so
close to  the spot where the corsair was hiding.  These had been
seized, driven to the ship, and having been stripped  of the greater
portion of their clothes, shut down in the hold.

Although angry that but one out of the four who landed had been
captured, the captain was in a good  humour at having tricked his
redoubtable foes, and was disposed to treat Gervaise with more
consideration  than was generally given to captives. The latter
had not spoken a word of Turkish from the time he was  captured,
and had shaken his head when first addressed in that language. No
suspicion was therefore  entertained that he had any knowledge of
it, and the Turks conversed freely before him.

"Where think you we had better sell him?" the mate asked the captain,
when Gervaise was leaning against  the bulwark watching the land,
a short quarter of a mile away.  "He ought to fetch a good ransom."

"Ay, but who would get it? You know how it was with one that Ibrahim
took two years ago. First there  were months of delay, then, when
the ransom was settled, the pasha took four-fifths of it for himself,
and  Ibrahim got far less than he would have done had he sold him
as a slave. The pashas here, and the sultans  of the Moors, are all
alike; if they once meddle in an affair they take all the profit,
and think they do well by  giving you a tithe of it. There are
plenty of wealthy Moors who are ready to pay well for a Christian
slave,  especially when he is a good looking young fellow such
as this. He will fetch as much as all those eight  sailors below.
They are only worth their labour, while this youngster will command
a fancy price. I know a  dozen rich Moors in Tripoli or Tunis who
would be glad to have him; and we agreed that we would run  down to
the African coast for awhile, for that galley has been altogether
too busy of late for our comfort,  and will be all the more active
after this little affair; besides, people in these islands have
got so scared that  one can't get within ten miles of any of them
now without seeing their signal smokes rising on the hills, and
finding, when they land, the villages deserted and stripped of
everything worth carrying away."

This news was a disappointment to Gervaise. He had calculated that
he would be sold at one of the Levant  ports, and had thought that
with his knowledge of Turkish he should have no great difficulty
in escaping  from any master into whose hands he might fall, and
taking his chance of either seizing a fishing boat, or of  making
his way in a trading ship to some district where the population was
a mixed one, and where trade  was winked at between the merchants
there, and those at some of the Greek towns. To escape from Tunis
or Tripoli would be far more difficult; there, too, he would be
beyond the reach of the good offices of  Suleiman Ali, who would,
he was sure, have done all in his power to bring about his release.
Of one thing  he was determined: he would not return to Rhodes
without making every possible effort to recover  Claudia's gage, as
he considered it absolutely incumbent on him as a knight to guard,
as something sacred,  a gift so bestowed. The fancy of the corsair
to retain the jewel as a charm he regarded as a piece of the
greatest good fortune. Had it been thrown among the common spoil,
he would never have known to which  of the crew it had fallen at
the division, still less have traced what became of it afterwards;
whereas now,  for some time, at any rate, it was likely to remain
in the captain's possession.

Had it not been for that, he would have attempted to escape at
the first opportunity, and such an opportunity  could not fail to
present itself ere long, for he had but to manage to possess himself
of Moslem garments to  be able to move about unquestioned in any
Turkish town. When it became dark he was shut up in the hold,  which
was, he found, crowded with captives, as, in addition to the crew
of the wreck, between forty and  fifty Greeks, for the most part boys
and young girls, had been carried off from the villages plundered.
It  was pitch dark below, although the scuttle had been left open
in order to allow a certain amount of air to  reach the captives;
Gervaise, therefore, felt his way about cautiously, and lay down as
soon as he found a  clear space.  Save an occasional moan or curse,
and the panting of those suffering from the heat and  closeness of
the crowded hold, all was still. The majority of the captives had
been some time in their  floating prison, and their first poignant
grief had settled down into a dull and despairing acceptance of
their  fate; the sailors, newly captured, had for hours raved and
cursed, but, worn out by their struggle with the  elements, and
their rage and grief, they had now fallen asleep.

It was long before Gervaise dozed off. He was furious with himself
for having fallen into the trap; if he  had, as he said to himself,
lain off the beach in the boat, and questioned the supposed
shipwrecked sailors,  their inability to reply to him would have
at once put him on his guard; as it was, he had walked into the
snare as carelessly and confidently as a child might have done.
Even more than his own captivity, he  regretted the death of his
three comrades, which he attributed to his own want of care.  The
next morning  he was again allowed on deck. The vessel was under
way, and her head was pointing south. To his surprise  some of the
crew gave him a friendly greeting; he was unable to understand a
manner so at variance with  their hatred to the Christians, until
one of them said to him in a mixture of Greek and Italian, "We have
heard from our countrymen who were in the boat with you, that they
received much kindness at your hands,  and that of all the Christians
they had served under, you were the kindest master. Therefore,
it is but right  now Allah has decreed that you in turn should be
a slave to the true believers, that you should receive the  same
mercy you gave to Moslems when they were in your power."

The captain came up as the man was speaking. He talked for a time
to the sailor, who then turned again to  Gervaise. "The captain
says that he is told you were the commander of that galley; he has
questioned the  eight men separately, and they all tell the same
story: and yet he cannot understand how so young a man  should
command a galley manned by warriors famous for their deeds of arms,
even among us who are their  foes."

"This galley was an exception," Gervaise replied; "the knights on
board were all young, as they could be  better spared than those
more experienced, at a time when your sultan is known to be preparing
for an  attack on Rhodes."

The captain was silent for a minute when this was interpreted to
him; he had at the time noticed and  wondered at the youth of the
four knights, and the explanation seemed to him a reasonable one.

"I wish I had known it," he said after a pause; "for had I done
so, I would have fought and captured her  yesterday; I have half
a mind to go back and seek her now."

He called up one of the ex slaves who was a native of Tripoli, and
who had now taken his place as a  member of the crew, and asked
him a number of questions. Gervaise felt uncomfortable while the
man was  answering.  Fortunately, his rowers had agreed to say
nothing whatever of the destruction of the corsair  fleet, of which
no word had as yet reached the pirates, deeming that, in their
anger at the news, the pirates  might turn upon them for the part
that they had, however involuntarily, borne in it.

As soon as he perceived that the captain entertained the idea of
returning to engage the galley, the man felt  that if he were to
avoid a return into captivity he must deter him from taking such a
step. He therefore, in  answer to his questions as to the strength
of the crew of the galley and the fighting powers of the knights,
reported the capture of the three vessels. The captain listened
almost incredulously to his statement, and,  calling up another
two of the men, questioned them also as to the occurrence. Having
heard them, he turned  away and paced the deck, in evident anger;
however, he gave no instructions for a change of course, and, to
the great satisfaction of the eight rescued slaves, the vessel
continued her course southward.

As they neared the African coast, Gervaise kept an eager lookout, in
hopes that Visconti's galley might  appear in sight. The captain's
temper had not recovered from the effect of the news of the capture
of three  Moorish vessels by the galley commanded by Gervaise,
and the latter, seeing the mood he was in, kept  forward so as to
avoid coming in contact with him. He had early taken the opportunity
of saying to one of  the released galley slaves, "I pray you, if you
have any feeling of kindness towards me for the efforts I  made to
alleviate your condition, say no word of my knowledge of Turkish,
and ask the others also to  remain silent on this point."

The man had nodded, and the request was observed by them all.

The captain's irritation showed itself in his treatment of the other
captives. These were brought up every  day from the hold, and kept
on deck until dark, as the price they would fetch in the slave market
in Tripoli  would depend greatly upon their health and appearance;
but when the captain came near them he several  times struck them
brutally, if they happened to be in his way. Gervaise had the
greatest difficulty in  restraining his indignation, and, indeed,
only did so because he felt that his interference would but make
things worse for them. When at last the ship cast anchor off Tripoli,
the captain ordered the boats to be  lowered. As he walked towards
the gangway, he happened to push against one of the captives, a
Greek girl  of some ten years of age. With an angry exclamation he
struck her to the deck. Gervaise sprang forward.

"You brute!" he exclaimed in English. "I have a good mind to throw
you overboard, and will do so the next  time you strike one of
these children without cause."

Infuriated by Gervaise's interference and threatening attitude, the
corsair drew his long knife; but before he  could strike, Gervaise
caught his wrist; the knife fell from his hand, and Gervaise kicked
it through the  open gangway into the sea. The captain shouted to
his men to seize the Christian, but the young knight's  blood was
up now. The first man who came at him he seized by the sash round
his waist, and threw  overboard; the two next he stretched on the
deck with blows from his clenched fist. Some of the others now
drew their weapons, but the captain shouted to them to sheath them.

"Fools!" he yelled. "Is it not enough that your cowardice has
already cost us the lives of three knights,  whose capture would
have brought us a big sum? Throw him down and bind him. What! are
fifty of you  afraid of one unarmed man? No wonder these Christians
capture our ships, if this is the mettle of our  crews!"

Goaded by his words, the men made a general rush upon Gervaise,
and, in spite of his desperate efforts,  threw him on to the deck
and bound him; then the captain, seizing a heavy stick in his left
hand, his right  being still powerless, showered blows upon him
until Gervaise almost lost consciousness. "Throw some  water over
the dog," the corsair said, as he threw down the stick, panting
with his exertions; and then,  without waiting to see if his order
was obeyed, he took his place in the boat, and was rowed ashore.

As soon as he had left, three or four of the ex galley slaves
carried Gervaise into the shade of the sail. The  sailors, several
of whom bore signs of the late struggle, looked on sullenly, but
offered no opposition when  the men took off the ropes and raised
him into a sitting posture against the mast. He had not entirely
lost  consciousness, and was now fast recovering himself.

"Is there anything we can do for you?" one of the men asked in
Italian.

"No I shall soon be all right again, although I am bruised all
over, and shall be stiff for a day or two. You  had best leave me
now, or you will incur the enmity of these fellows."

Gervaise was indeed bruised from his neck to his heels.  Even in
his passion the pirate had avoided striking  him on the head, as
a disfiguring mark on the face would diminish his value. Sitting
there, he congratulated  himself that he had been beaten with a stick
and not with a whip; a stick is a weapon, and he did not feel the
same sense of dishonour that he would have experienced had he been
beaten with a whip. That such might  be his lot in slavery he
recognised.  The backs of Caretto and his two companions were seamed
with the  marks inflicted by the gang master's whip, and he could
scarce hope to escape the same treatment; but at  present he hardly
felt a slave. There was another reflection that to some extent
mitigated the pain of his  bruises; the pirate captain held his
treasured gage, and it was his fixed determination to recover it.
The man  had at first in a rough way treated him fairly, and had
allowed him more liberty than the other captives, and  he would
have felt reluctant to take extreme measure against him to recover
the gage. Now he was not only  free from any sense of obligation,
but had a heavy score to settle with him.

After a time he got up and walked stiffly and painfully up and
down the deck, knowing that this was the  best plan to prevent the
limbs from stiffening. The corsair did not return until night set
in; he was  accompanied by an Arab, whose dress and appearance
showed that he was a person of importance. The  other slaves had
all been sent below, but Gervaise still remained on deck, as the
mate had not cared to risk  another conflict by giving him orders
in the absence of the captain. As the pirate stepped on deck he
ordered some torches to be brought.

"This is the Christian I spoke of," he said to the Arab, pointing
to Gervaise, who was leaning carelessly  against the bulwark.

"He is, as you see, capable of hard work of any kind; his strength
is prodigious, for it took ten of my best  men to bind him this
morning."

"Why did you wish to bind him?" the Arab asked coldly; "you told me
that although so strong he was of a  quiet disposition, and would
make a good household slave."

"I struck a slave girl who stood in my way," the captain said,
"and he came at me so suddenly that I had to  call upon the men to
bind him. He threw one of them overboard, and with his naked hands
knocked down  two others; and, as I have told you, it took all the
efforts of eight or ten more before they could overcome  him."

The Arab took a torch from one of the sailors, walked across to
Gervaise, who was naked from the waist  upwards, his upper garments
having been torn into shreds in the struggle, and examined him
closely.

"And then you beat him," he said, turning to the captain.

"Certainly I beat him. Do you think that a slave is to mutiny on
board my ship, and escape unpunished?"

The Arab, without replying, again inspected Gervaise.

"You ask a large sum for him," he said.

"I should ask twice as much," the captain replied, "if it were
not for the regulation that one slave from each  cargo brought in
belongs to the sultan, and his officers would as a matter of course
choose this fellow, for  the others are merely such as are sold
in the market every day. This man is one of the accursed Order of
Rhodes, and would fetch a ransom many times greater than the sum
I ask for him, only I have not the time  to wait for months until
the affair could be arranged."

"And, moreover, Hassan," the Arab said grimly, "it has doubtless
not escaped you that as the Sultan of  Turkey is fitting out an
expedition to destroy the community of Rhodes, the chance of their
ransoming their  comrade is a very slight one."

"Threatened men live long," the captain said. "The sultan has been
talking of attacking them for years, and  something has always
happened to prevent his carrying out his intention. It may be the
same again."

"I will take him," the Arab said shortly. "Here is a purse with the
sum you named; count it, and see that it is  right." As he stood
apart while the pirate counted out the money, the eight released
slaves came up in a  body, and one of them, bowing low before the
merchant, said,

"My lord, we have long been slaves of the Christian knights
at Rhodes, and have worked in their galleys.  We were rescued the
other day when this knight was taken prisoner. Our life has been
a hard one. We have  borne toil, and hardship, and blows, the heat
of the sun by day, and the damp by night, but we would  humbly
represent to you that since we were placed in the galley commanded
by this knight our lot has been  made bearable by his humanity and
kindness. He erected an awning to shade us from the sun's rays,
and to  shelter us from the night dews. He provided good food for
us. He saw that we were not worked beyond our  strength, and he
forbade us being struck, unless for good cause. Therefore, my lord,
now that misfortune  has fallen upon him, we venture to represent
to you the kindness with which he has treated us, in the hope  that
it may please you to show him such mercy as he showed to us."

"You have done well," the Arab said, "and your words shall not be
forgotten. When you land tomorrow,  inquire for the house of Isaac
Ben Ibyn. You are doubtless penniless, and I may be able to obtain
employment for those of you who may stop at Tripoli, and to assist
those who desire to take passage to  their homes elsewhere. We are
commanded to be grateful to those who befriend us, and as you have
shown  yourselves to be so, it is right that I, an humble servant
of the Great One, should in His name reward you."

Motioning to Gervaise to follow him, the Arab stepped into his
boat. Gervaise turned to the men, and said  in Italian, "Thanks,
my friends, you have well discharged any debt that you may think
you owe me. Will  you tell that villain" -- and he pointed to the
captain threateningly -- "I warn him that some day I will kill  him
like a dog!" Then, turning, he stepped into the bow of the boat,
and the two men who rowed it at once  pushed off.



CHAPTER XVIII A KIND MASTER


When the boat reached the shore the Arab handed a long bernouse to
Gervaise, signed to him to pull the  hood well over his head, and
then led the way through the streets until he stopped at a large
house, standing  in a quiet quarter of the town. He struck on the
door with his hand, and it was at once opened by a black  slave.

"Call Muley," the Arab said.

The slave hurried away, and returned in a minute with a man somewhat
past middle age, and dressed in a  style that indicated that he
was a trusted servant.

"Muley," his master said, "I have bought this Christian who has
been brought in by Hassan the corsair. He  is one of the knights
who are the terrors of our coasts, but is, from what I hear, of a
kind and humane  disposition. I am told that he was a commander of
one of their galleys, and though I should not have  believed it
had I only Hassan's word, I have heard from others that it was so.
My wife has long desired to  have a Christian slave, and as Allah
has blessed my efforts it was but right that I should gratify her,
though  in truth I do not know what work I shall set him to do
at present. Let him first have a bath, and see that he is  clad
decently, then let him have a good meal. I doubt if he has had one
since he was captured. He has been  sorely beaten by the corsair,
and from no fault of his own, but only because he opposed the man's
brutality  to a child slave.  If any of his wounds need ointment,
see that he has it. When all is ready, bring him to the  door
of my apartments, in order that I may show to my wife that I have
gratified her whim."

Then he motioned to Gervaise to follow Muley, who was the head
of his household. Gervaise resisted the  impulse to thank his new
master, and followed in silence.

He was first taken to a bathroom, furnished with an abundance of
hot and cold water. Muley uttered an  exclamation as, on Gervaise
throwing off his bernouse, he saw that his flesh was a mass of
bruises. After  filling the bath with hot water, he motioned to
Gervaise to get in, and lie there until he returned. It was  some
time before he came back, bringing a pot of ointment and some
bandages. It was only on the body  that the wounds needed dressing,
for here the blows had fallen on the naked skin. When he had dressed
them, Muley went out and returned with some Turkish garments,
consisting of a pair of baggy trousers of  yellow cotton, a white
shirt of the same material, and a sleeveless jacket of blue cloth
embroidered with  yellow trimming; a pair of yellow slippers completed
the costume.  Muley now took him into another room,  where he set
before him a dish of rice with a meat gravy, a large piece of bread,
and a wooden spoon.

Gervaise ate the food with a deep feeling of thankfulness for the
fate that had thrown him into such good  hands. Then, after taking
a long draught of water, he rose to his feet and followed Muley into
the entrance  hall.  The latter stopped at a door on the opposite
side, knocked at it, and then motioned to Gervaise to take  off
his slippers.  The door was opened by the Arab himself.

"Enter," he said courteously, and led Gervaise into an apartment
where a lady and two girls were sitting on  a divan.  They were
slightly veiled; but, as Gervaise afterwards learnt, Ben Ibyn was
not a Moor, but a  Berber, a people who do not keep their women
in close confinement as do the Moors, but allow them to go  abroad
freely without being entirely muffled up.

"Khadja," the merchant said, "this is the Christian slave I purchased
today. You have for a long time  desired one, but not until now
have I found one who would, I thought, satisfy your expectations.
What  think you of him?"

"He is a noble looking youth truly, Isaac, with his fair, wavy hair,
his grey eyes, and white skin; truly, all  my neighbours will envy
me such a possession. I have often seen Christian slaves before, but
they have  always been broken down and dejected looking creatures;
this one bears himself like a warrior rather than a  slave."

"He is a warrior; he is one of those terrible knights of Rhodes
whose very name is a terror to the Turks, and  whose galleys are
feared even by our boldest corsairs. He must be of approved valour,
for he was  commander of one of these galleys."

The girls looked with amazement at Gervaise. They had often heard
tales of the capture of ships that had  sailed from Tripoli, by
the galleys of the Christian knights, and had pictured those fierce
warriors as of  almost supernatural strength and valour. That this
youth, whose upper lip was but shaded with a slight  moustache,
should be one of them, struck them as being almost incredible.

"He does not look ferocious, father," one of them said.  "He looks
pleasant and good tempered, as if he  could injure no one."

"And yet this morning, daughter, he braved, unarmed, the anger
of Hassan the corsair, on the deck of his  own ship; and when the
pirate called upon his men to seize him he threw one overboard,
struck two more  on to the deck, and it needed eight men to overpower
him."

"I hope he won't get angry with us!" the younger girl exclaimed.
Gervaise could not suppress a laugh, and  then, turning to
the merchant, said in Turkish, "I must ask your pardon for having
concealed from you my  knowledge of your tongue. I kept the secret
from all on board the corsair, and meant to have done the same
here, deeming that if none knew that I spoke the language it would
greatly aid me should I ever see an  opportunity of making my
escape; but, Ben Ibyn, you have behaved so kindly to me that I feel
it would not  be honourable to keep it a secret from you, and to
allow you and the ladies to talk freely before me,  thinking that
I was altogether ignorant of what you were saying."

"You have acted well and honourably," Ben Ibyn said, putting a
hand on his shoulder kindly. "We have  heard much of the character
of the Order, and that though valiant in battle, your knights
are courteous and  chivalrous, deeming a deceitful action to be
unworthy of them, and binding themselves by their vows to  succour
the distressed and to be pitiful to the weak. We have heard that
our wounded are tended by them in  your hospitals with as much care
as men of their own race and religion, and that in many things the
knights  were to be admired even by those who were their foes. I
see now that these reports were true, and that  although, as you
say, it might be of advantage to you that none should know you
speak Arabic, yet it is  from a spirit of honourable courtesy you
have now told us that you do so.

"I did not tell you, wife," he went on, turning to her, "that
the reason why he bearded Hassan today was  because the corsair
brutally struck a little female captive; thus, you see, he, at the
risk of his life, and when  himself a captive, carried out his vows
to protect the defenceless. And now, wife, there is one thing you
must know. For some time, at any rate, you must abandon the idea
of exciting the envy of your friends by  exhibiting your Christian
captive to them.  As you are aware, the sultan has the choice of any
one slave he  may select from each batch brought in, and assuredly
he would choose this one, did it come to his ears, or  to the ears
of one of his officers, that a Christian knight had been landed.
For this reason Hassan sold him to  me for a less sum than he
would otherwise have demanded, and we must for some time keep his
presence  here a secret. My idea is that he shall remain indoors
until we move next week into our country house,  where he will be
comparatively free from observation."

"Certainly, Isaac. I would not on any account that he should be
handed over to the sultan, for he would  either be put into the
galleys or have to labour in the streets."

"I will tell Muley to order the other slaves to say nothing outside
of the fresh arrival, so for the present there  is no fear of its
being talked about in the town. Hassan will, for his own sake, keep
silent on the matter. I  have not yet asked your name," he went
on, turning to Gervaise.

"My name is Gervaise Tresham; but it will be easier for you to call
me by my first name only."

"Then, Gervaise, it were well that you retired to rest at once,
for I am sure that you sorely need it." He  touched a bell on the
table, and told Muley, when he appeared, to conduct Gervaise to the
place where he  was to sleep, which was, he had already ordered,
apart from the quarters of the other slaves.

"The young fellow is a mass of bruises," Ben Ibyn said to his
wife, when the door closed behind Gervaise.  "Hassan beat him so
savagely, after they had overpowered and bound him, that he well
nigh killed him."

An exclamation of indignation burst from the wife and daughters.

"Muley has seen to his wounds," he went on, "and he will doubtless
be cured in a few days. And now, wife,  that your wish is gratified,
and I have purchased a Christian slave for you, may I ask what you
are going to  do with him?"

"I am sure I do not know," she said in a tone of perplexity. "I had
thought of having him to hand round  coffee when my friends call,
and perhaps to work in the garden, but I did not think that he
would be  anything like this."

"That is no reason why he should not do so," Ben Ibyn said. "These
Christians, I hear, treat their women as  if they were superior
beings, and feel it no dishonour to wait upon them; I think you
cannot do better than  carry out your plan. It is certain there is
no sort of work that he would prefer to it; therefore, let it be
understood that he is to be your own personal attendant, and that
when you have no occasion for his  services, he will work in the
garden.  Only do not for the present let any of your friends see
him; they  would spread the news like wildfire, and in a week every
soul in the town would know that you had a good  looking Christian
slave, and the sultan's officer would be sending for me to ask how
I obtained him. We  must put a turban on him. Any one who caught a
glimpse of that hair of his, however far distant, would  know that
he was a Frank."

"We might stain his face and hands with walnut juice," Khadja said,
"he would pass as a Nubian. Some of  them are tall and strong."

"A very good thought, wife; it would be an excellent disguise. So
shall it be." He touched the bell again.  "Tell Muley I would speak
with him. Muley," he went on, when the steward appeared, "have you
said  aught to any of the servants touching the Christian?"

"No, my lord; you gave me no instructions about it, and I thought
it better to wait until the morning, when I  could ask you."

"You did well. We have determined to stain his skin, and at present
he will pass as a Nubian. This will  avoid all questions and talk."

"But, my lord, they will wonder that he cannot speak their tongue."

"He must pass among them as a mute; but indeed he speaks Arabic as
well as we do, Muley."

The man uttered an exclamation of surprise.

"He had intended to conceal his knowledge," Ben Ibyn went on, "which
would have been politic; but when  he found that my intentions
were kind, he told us that he knew our tongue, and now revealed
his  knowledge, as he thought it would be dishonourable to listen
to our talk, leaving us under the impression  that he could not
understand us."

"Truly these Christians are strange men," Muley said.  "This
youth, who has not yet grown the hair on his  face, is nevertheless
commander of a war galley. He is ready to risk his life on behalf
of a slave, and can  strike down men with his unarmed hand; he is
as gentle in his manner as a woman; and now it seems he can  talk
Arabic, and although it was in his power to keep this secret he
tells it rather than overhear words that  are not meant for his
ear. Truly they are strange people, the Franks. I will prepare some
stain in the  morning, my lord, and complete his disguise before
any of the others see him."

The next morning Muley told Gervaise that his master thought that
it would be safer and more convenient  for him to pass as a dumb
Nubian slave. Gervaise thought the plan an excellent one; and he
was soon  transformed, Muley shaving that part of the hair that
would have shown below the turban, and then staining  him a deep
brownish black, from the waist upwards, together with his feet and
his legs up to his knee, and  darkening his eyebrows, eyelashes,
and moustache.

"Save that your lips lack the thickness, and your nose is straighter
than those of Nubians, no one would  doubt but that you were one
of that race; and this is of little consequence, as many of them
are of mixed  blood, and, though retaining their dark colour, have
features that in their outline resemble those of the  Arabs. Now I
will take you to Ben Ibyn, so that he may judge whether any further
change is required before  the servants and slaves see you."

"That is excellent," the merchant said, when he had carefully
inspected Gervaise, "I should pass you myself  without recognizing
you. Now you can take him into the servants' quarters, Muley, and
tell them that he is a  new slave whom I have purchased, and that
henceforth it will be his duty to wait upon my wife, to whom I  have
presented him as her special attendant, and that he will accompany
her and my daughters when they  go abroad to make their purchases
or visit their friends. Give some reason, if you can think of one,
why you  have bestowed him in a chamber separate from the rest."

Gervaise at once took up his new duties, and an hour later, carrying
a basket, followed them into the town.  It was strange to him thus
to be walking among the fanatical Moors, who, had they known the
damage that  he had inflicted upon their galleys, would have torn
him in pieces.  None gave him, however, more than a  passing look.
Nubian slaves were no uncommon sight in the town, and in wealthy
Moorish families were  commonly employed in places of trust, and
especially as attendants in the harems. The ladies were now as
closely veiled as the Moorish women, it being only in the house
that they followed the Berber customs.   Gervaise had learnt from
Muley that Ben Ibyn was one of the richest merchants in Tripoli,
trading direct  with Egypt, Syria, and Constantinople, besides
carrying on a large trade with the Berber tribes in the  interior.
He returned to the house with his basket full of provisions,
and having handed these over to the  cook, he went to the private
apartments, as Khadja had requested him to do. Here she and
her daughters  asked him innumerable questions as to his country
and its customs, and then about Rhodes and the Order to  which he
belonged. Their surprise was great when they heard that the knights
were bound to celibacy.

"But why should they not marry if they like?  Why should they not
have wives, children, and homes like  other people?" Khadja asked.

"It is that they may devote their whole lives to their work. Their
home is the convent at Rhodes, or at one of  the commanderies
scattered over Europe, where they take charge of the estates of
the Order."

"But why should they not marry then, Gervaise? At Rhodes there might
be danger for women and children,  but when they return to Europe
to take charge of the estates, surely they would do their duty no
worse for  having wives?"

Gervaise smiled.

"I did not make the rules of the Order, lady, but I have thought
myself that although, so long as they are  doing military work at
the convent, it is well that they should not marry, yet there is
no good reason why,  when established in commanderies at home, they
should not, like other knights and nobles, marry if it so  pleases
them."

In the evening the merchant returned from his stores, which
were situated down by the port. Soon after he  came in he sent
for Gervaise. "There is a question I had intended to ask you last
night," he said, "but it  escaped me. More than two months since
there sailed from this port and others many vessels -- not the
ships of the State, but corsairs. In all, more than twenty ships
started, with the intention of making a great  raid upon the coast
of Italy. No word has since been received of them, and their friends
here are becoming  very uneasy, the more so as we hear that neither
at Tunis nor Algiers has any news been received. Have  you heard at
Rhodes of a Moorish fleet having been ravaging the coast of Italy?"

"Have you any friends on board the ships that sailed from here, or
any interest in the venture, Ben Ibyn?"

The merchant shook his head. "We Berbers," he said, "are not like
the Moors, and have but little to do with  the sea, save by the
way of trade. For myself, I regret that these corsair ships are
constantly putting out.  Were it not for them and their doings we
might trade with the ports of France, of Spain, and Italy, and be
on  good terms with all.  There is no reason why, because our faiths
are different, we should be constantly  fighting. It is true that
the Turks threaten Europe, and are even now preparing to capture
Rhodes; but this is  no question of religion. The Turks are warlike
and ambitious; they have conquered Syria, and war with  Egypt and
Persia; but the Moorish states are small, they have no thought of
conquest, and might live  peaceably with Europe were it not for
the hatred excited against them by the corsairs."

"In that case I can tell you the truth. Thirteen of those ships
were taken into Rhodes as prizes; the other  eleven were burnt.
Not one of the fleet escaped."

Exclamations of surprise broke from Ben Ibyn, his wife, and daughters.

"I am astonished, indeed," the merchant said. "It was reported
here that the Genoese galleys were all laid  up, and it was thought
that they would be able to sweep the seas without opposition, and
to bring home vast  spoil and many captives, both from the ships
they took and from many of the villages and small towns of  the
coast. How came such a misfortune to happen to them? It will create
consternation here when it is  known, for although it was not a
state enterprise, the sultan himself and almost all the rich Moors
embarked  money in the fitting out of the ships, and were to have
shares in the spoil taken. How happened it that so  strong a fleet
was all taken or destroyed, without even one vessel being able to
get away to carry home the  news of the disaster?"

"Fortune was against them," Gervaise said. "Three ships on their
way up were captured by a galley of our  Order, and her commander
having obtained news of the whereabouts of the spot where the
corsairs were to  rendezvous, found them all lying together in a
small inlet, and launched against them a number of fishing  boats
fitted out as fire ships. The corsairs, packed closely together,
were unable to avoid them, and, as I told  you, eleven of their
ships were burnt, four were run ashore to avoid the flames, while
six, trying to make  their way out, were captured by the galley,
aided by the three prizes that were taken and which the knights
had caused to be manned by Sards."

"The ways of Allah the All Seeing are wonderful," the merchant said.
"It was indeed a marvellous feat for  one galley thus to destroy
a great fleet."

"It was the result of good fortune rather than skill and valour,"
Gervaise said.

"Nay, nay; let praise be given where it is due. It was a marvellous
feat; and although there is good or bad  fortune in every event,
such a deed could not have been performed, and would not even have
been thought  of, save by a great commander. Who was the knight
who thus with one galley alone destroyed a strongly  manned fleet,
from which great things had been looked for?"

Gervaise hesitated. "It was a young knight," he said, "of but
little standing in the Order, and whose name is  entirely unknown
outside its ranks."

"By this time it must be well known," Ben Ibyn said; "and it will
soon be known throughout Christendom,  and will be dreaded by every
Moor. What was it?"

Gervaise again hesitated.

"I would not have told you the story at all, Ben Ibyn, had I supposed
you would have cared to inquire into  the matter. Of course, I will
tell you the name if you insist upon it, but I would much rather
you did not  ask."

"But why?" the merchant asked, in surprise. "If I hear it not from
you, I shall assuredly hear it ere long  from others, for it will
be brought by traders who are in communication with Italy. I cannot
understand why  you should thus hesitate about telling me the name
of this commander.  When known it will doubtless be  cursed by
thousands of Moorish wives and mothers; but we Berbers are another
race. None of our friends  or kindred were on board the fleet; and
we traders have rather reason to rejoice, for, in the first place,
so  severe a lesson will keep the corsairs in their ports for a
long time; and in the second, had the fleet  succeeded according
to general expectation, so great a store of European goods would
have been brought  home that the market would have been glutted,
and the goods in our storehouses would have lost all their  value.
What reason, then, can you possibly have in refusing to tell me
the name of the commander who has  won for himself such credit and
glory?"

Gervaise saw that Ben Ibyn was seriously annoyed at what he deemed
his unaccountable obstinacy.

"I will tell you, Ben Ibyn, rather than excite your displeasure,
though I would much have preferred not to  do so, for you speak
so much more highly of the affair than it merits. I had myself the
honour of being in  command of that galley."

The ladies broke into exclamations of surprise, while the merchant
regarded him with grave displeasure.

"I had thought you truthful," he said; "but this passes all belief.
Dost tell me that a beardless youth could  with one galley overcome
a great fleet, commanded by the most noted captains on our coast?"

"I thought that you would not believe me," Gervaise said quietly;
"and, therefore, would have much  preferred to keep silence, knowing
that I had no means of supporting my claim. That was not the only
reason; the other was, that already a great deal too much has been
said about an affair in which, as I have  told you, I owed everything
to good fortune, and am heartily sick of receiving what I consider
altogether  undue praise. Ah!" he exclaimed suddenly, "the thought has
just occurred to me of a way by which you can  obtain confirmation
of my story; and, as I value your good opinion and would not
be regarded as a boaster  and a liar, I entreat you to take it. I
heard you tell the eight men who were rowers in my boat when I was
captured, to call upon you today, that you might do something for
them."

"They came this morning to my store," the merchant said. "They told
me their wishes. I promised them that  I would make inquiry about
ships sailing East; and they are to come to me again tomorrow."

"Then, sir, I beseech you to suffer me to go down with you to your
stores and meet them there. The galley  of which I was in command
at the time I was captured is the same as that in which a few weeks
before I  fought the corsairs, and these eight men were with me
at that time. I begged them for my sake to maintain  an absolute
silence as to that affair, and I have no doubt that they have done
so, for in the fury the news  would excite, they might fall victims
to the first outburst, though, of course, wholly innocent of any
share  in the misfortune. Did you question them without my being
present, they might still keep silent, fearing to  injure me.  But
if, before you begin to do so, I tell them that they can speak
the truth with reference to me,  they will, I am sure.  confirm my
story, incredible as it may now appear to you."

"That is a fair offer," the merchant said gravely, "and I accept
it, for it may be that I have been too hasty,  and I trust it may
prove so. I would rather find myself to be in fault than that the
esteem with which you  have inspired me should prove to be misplaced.
We will speak no further on the subject now. I have not yet  asked
you how it is that you come to speak our language so well."

Gervaise related how he had studied with Suleiman Ali, and had
escorted him to Syria and received his  ransom.

"I had hoped," he said, "that the corsair would have taken me
to Syria, for there I could have communicated  with Suleiman, who
would, I am sure, have given me such shelter and aid as he was
able, in the event of  my making my escape from slavery and finding
myself unable to leave by sea."

The next day Gervaise went with Ben Ibyn to his stores.  The eight
men arrived shortly afterwards, and the  merchant, in the presence
of Gervaise, questioned them as to whether they knew anything of
a misfortune  that was said to have befallen some ships that had
sailed for the coast of Italy.  The men, surprised at the  question,
glanced at Gervaise, who said, "Tell Ben Ibyn the truth; it will
do neither you nor me any harm,  and will be mentioned by him to
no one else."

Accordingly the story was told. Ben Ibyn listened gravely.

"It was the will of Allah," he said, when it was concluded.  "I
have wronged you, Gervaise, but your tale  seemed too marvellous
to be true.

"Do not speak of this to others;" he went on to the eight men.
"Now as to yourselves. For the four of you  who desire to return
to Syria I have taken passage in a trader that sails tomorrow and
will touch at Joppa  and Acre. Here is money to provide yourselves
with garments and to carry you to your homes. For you," he  said
to two who were natives of the town, "I can myself find employment
here, and if your conduct is good,  you will have no reason to
regret taking service with me. The two of you who desire to go to
Smyrna I will  give passage there in a ship which will sail next
week; in the meantime, here is money for your present  wants."

Two days later the merchant's family moved to his house two miles
outside the town, and here Gervaise  remained for six months. His
life was not an unpleasant one; he was treated with great kindness
by the  merchant and his wife, his duties were but slight, and he
had no more labour to perform in the garden than  he cared to do.
Nevertheless, he felt that he would rather have fallen into the
hands of a less kind master,  for it seemed to him that it would
be an act almost of treachery to escape from those who treated him
as a  friend; moreover, at the country house he was not in a position
to frame any plans for escape, had he  decided upon attempting it,
nor could he have found out when Hassan made one of his occasional
visits to  the port.

One evening the merchant returned from the town accompanied by one
of the sultan's officers and four  soldiers. Ben Ibyn was evidently
much depressed and disturbed; he told Muley as he entered, to fetch
Gervaise.  When the latter, in obedience to the order, came in from
the garden, the officer said in Italian, "It  having come to the
ears of the sultan my master that the merchant Ben Ibyn has ventured,
contrary to the  law, to purchase a Christian slave brought secretly
into the town, he has declared the slave to be forfeited  and I am
commanded to take him at once to the slaves' quarter."

"I am at the sultan's orders," Gervaise said, bowing his head.
"My master has been a kind one, and I am  grateful to him for his
treatment of me."

Gervaise, although taken aback by this sudden change in his fortunes,
was not so cast down as he might  otherwise have been; he would
now be free to carry out any plan for escape that he might devise,
and by his  being addressed in Italian it was evident to him that
his knowledge of Turkish was unsuspected. When  among the other
slaves he had always maintained his character of a mute; and it was
only when alone in his  master's family that he had spoken at all.
He had no doubt that his betrayal was due to one of the  gardeners,
who had several times shown him signs of ill will, being doubtless
jealous of the immunity he  enjoyed from hard labour, and who must,
he thought, have crept up and overheard some conversation; but  in
that case it was singular that the fact of his knowledge of Turkish
had not been mentioned. Gervaise  afterwards learned that Ben Ibyn
had been fined a heavy sum for his breach of the regulations.

He was now placed between the soldiers, and marched down to the
town, without being allowed to  exchange a word with the merchant.
On his arrival there he was taken to the slaves' quarter; here his
clothes  were stripped from him, and he was given in their place a
ragged shirt and trousers, and then turned into a  room where some
fifty slaves were lying. Of these about half were Europeans, the
rest malefactors who had  been condemned to labour.

The appearance of all was miserable in the extreme; they were
clothed in rags, and the faces of the  Europeans had a dull, hopeless
look that told alike of their misery and of their despair of any
escape from  it. They looked up listlessly as he entered, and then
an Italian said, "Cospetto, comrade; but I know not  whether your
place is with us, or with the Moslems across there. As far as colour
goes I should put you  down as a Nubian; but your hair is of a hue
that consorts but badly with that of your flesh."

"I am an Englishman," Gervaise replied; "but I have been passing
under a disguise which has unfortunately  been detected, so you
see here I am."

The mystery explained, his questioner had no further interest in
the matter, and Gervaise, picking out a  vacant place on the stone
floor, sat down and looked round him.  The room, although large,
was roughly  built, and had doubtless been erected with a view to
its present purpose.  There were only a few windows;  and these
were small, strongly barred, and twelve feet above the floor.

"Not easy to get out of them," Gervaise said to himself "at least,
not easy without aid; and with these  Moslems here it is clear that
nothing can be done."

They were roused at daybreak next morning, and were taken out
to their work under the guard of six armed  Moors, two overseers,
provided with long whips, accompanied them. The work consisted of
cleaning the  streets and working on the roads, and at times of
carrying stones for the use of the masons employed in  building
an addition to the palace of the sultan. This was the work to which
the gang was set that morning,  and it was not long before the
vigour with which Gervaise worked, and the strength he displayed in
moving  the heavy stones, attracted the attention of the overseers
and of the head of the masons.

"That is a rare good fellow you have got there, that black with
the curious hair," the latter said.  "What is  the man? I never
saw one like him."

"He is a Christian," one of the overseers said. "He was smuggled
into the town and sold to Ben Ibyn the  Berber, who, to conceal
the matter, dyed him black; but it got to the ears of the sultan,
and he had him  taken from the Berber, and brought here; I have no
doubt the merchant has been squeezed rarely."

"Well, that is a good fellow to work," the other said.  "He has
just moved a stone, single handed, that it  would have taken half
a dozen of the others to lift. I wish you would put him regularly
on this job; any one  will do to sweep the streets; but a fellow
like that will be of real use here, especially when the wall rises
a  bit higher."

"It makes no difference to me," the overseer said. "I will give
orders when I go down that he shall be  always sent up with whichever
gang comes here."

The head mason, who was the chief official of the work, soon saw
that Gervaise not only possessed  strength, but knowledge of the
manner in which the work should be done.

Accustomed as he had been to direct the slaves at work on the
fortifications at Rhodes, he had learned the  best methods of moving
massive stones, and setting them in the places that they were to
occupy. At the end  of the day the head mason told one of the slaves
who spoke Italian to inquire of Gervaise whether he had  ever been
employed on such work before. Gervaise replied that he had been
engaged in the construction of  large buildings.

"I thought so," the officer said to the overseer; "the way he uses
his lever shows that he knows what he is  doing.  Most of the
slaves are worth nothing; but I can see that this fellow will prove
a treasure to us."

Gervaise returned to the prison well satisfied with his day's
work. The labour, hard though it was, was an  absolute pleasure to
him. There was, moreover, nothing degrading in it, and while the
overseers had plied  their whips freely on the backs of many of his
companions, he had not only escaped, but had, he felt,  succeeded
in pleasing his masters.  The next morning when the gangs were
drawn up in the yard before  starting for work, he was surprised
at being ordered to leave the one to which he belonged and to fall
in  with another, and was greatly pleased when he found that this
took its way to the spot at which they were at  work on the previous
day.

At the end of the week, when the work of the day was finished, the
head mason came down to the prison  and spoke to the governor; a
few minutes afterwards Gervaise was called out. The governor was
standing in  the courtyard with an interpreter.

"This officer tells me that you are skilled in masonry," the governor
said, "and has desired that you shall be  appointed overseer of the
gang whose duty it is to move the stones, saying he is sure that
with half the  slaves now employed you would get as much work done
as at present.  Have you anything to say?"

"I thank you, my lord, and this officer," Gervaise replied. "I will
do my best; but I would submit to you that  it would be better if
I could have the same slaves always with me, instead of their being
changed every day;  I could then instruct them in their work. I
would also submit that it were well to pick men with some  strength
for this labour, for many are so weak that they are well nigh useless
in the moving of heavy  weights; and lastly, I would humbly submit
to you that if men are to do good work they must be fed.  This
work is as heavy as that in the galleys, and the men there employed
receive extra rations to strengthen  them; and I could assuredly
obtain far better results if the gang employed upon this labour
were to receive a  somewhat larger supply of food."

"The fellow speaks boldly," the governor said to the head mason,
when the reply was translated.

"There is reason in what he says, my lord. Many of the slaves,
though fit for the light labour of cleaning the  streets, are of
very little use to us, and even the whip of the drivers cannot get
more than a momentary  effort from them. If you can save twenty-five
men's labour for other work, it will pay to give more food to  the
other twenty-five. I should let this man pick out his gang. He has
worked in turn with all of them, and  must know what each can do;
besides, it is necessary that he should have men who can understand
his  orders."

Gervaise accordingly was allowed to pick out his gang; and he chose
those whom he had observed to be the  strongest and most handy at
the work.

"You will be responsible," the governor said to him, "for the masons
being supplied with stone, and if you  fail you will be punished
and put to other labour."

So far from there being any falling off in the work, the head mason
found that, even though the walls began  to rise and the labour of
transporting the stones into their positions became greater, the
masons were never  kept standing. The men, finding their position
improved, both in the matter of food and in the immunity  they
enjoyed from blows, worked cheerfully and well. Gervaise did not
content himself with giving orders,  but worked at the heaviest
jobs, and, little by little, introduced many of the appliances
used by the skilled  masons of Rhodes in transporting and lifting
heavy stones. Gradually his own position improved: he was  treated
as an overseer, and was permitted to sleep under an arcade that
ran along one side of the yard,  instead of being confined in the
close and stifling cell. His dye had long since worn off.

One day as he was going up with his gang under charge of the usual
guards to the building, he saw Hassan,  who grinned maliciously.

"Ah, ah, Christian dog!" he said; "you threatened me, and I have
not forgotten it. The last time I was here I  made it known to an
officer of the sultan that Ben Ibyn had a Christian slave who had
been smuggled in;  and here you are. I hope you like the change.
Look, I have still got your amulet, and it has brought me  better
luck than it did you. I have been fortunate ever since, and no
money could buy it from me."

He had been walking close to Gervaise as he spoke, and one of the
guards pushed him roughly aside.

Time passed on. One day on his return from work a well dressed Moor
met him as the gang broke up in the  courtyard.

"I have permission to speak to you," he said to Gervaise, and drew
him aside. "Know, 0 Christian, that I  have received a letter from
Suleiman Ali, of Syria. He tells me that he has heard from Ben Ibyn,
the Berber,  that you are a slave, and has asked me to inquire of
the sultan the price that he will take for your ransom,  expressing
his willingness to pay whatever may be demanded, and charging me
to defray the sum and to  make arrangements by which you may return
to Europe. This I am willing to do, knowing Suleiman Ali by  report
as a wealthy man and an honourable one. I saw the sultan yesterday.
He told me that I should have  an answer this morning as to the
ransom that he would take. When I went to him again today, he said
that  he had learnt from the governor of the prison and from the
head mason that you were almost beyond price,  that you had been
raised to the position of superintendent of the slaves employed in
the building of his  palace, and that you were a man of such skill
that he would not part with you at any price until the work  was
finished. After that he would sell you; but he named a price threefold
that at which the very best white  slave in Tripoli would be valued.
However, from the way in which Suleiman Ali wrote, I doubt not that
he  would pay it, great as it is, for he speaks of you in terms
of affection, and I would pay the money could you  be released at
once. As it is, however, I shall write to him, and there will be
ample time for an answer to be  received from him before the building
is finished."

"Truly I am deeply thankful to my good friend, Suleiman Ali; but for
reasons of my own I am not desirous  of being ransomed at present,
especially at such a cost, which I should feel bound in honour to
repay to  him; therefore, I pray you to write to him, saying that
while I thank him from my heart for his kindness, I  am not able
to avail myself of it.  In the first place, I am well treated
here, and my position is not an  unpleasant one; secondly, the sum
required for ransom is altogether preposterous; thirdly, I am not
without  hopes that I may some day find other means of freeing
myself without so great a sacrifice; and lastly, that I  have a
reason which I cannot mention, why, at present, I would not quit
Tripoli, even were I free tomorrow.  You can tell him that this is
the reason which, most of all, weighs with me. Do not, however, I
pray you, let  the sultan know that I have refused to be ransomed,
for he might think I was meditating an escape, and  would order
extra precautions to be taken to prevent my doing so. Will you also
see Ben Ibyn, and thank  him from me for having written to Suleiman
Ali on my behalf?"



CHAPTER XIX ESCAPE


Gradually a greater amount of liberty was given to Gervaise. Escape
from Tripoli was deemed impossible,  especially as he was supposed
to be entirely ignorant of Arabic. He was, indeed, scarcely regarded
now as a  slave by the head mason, and instead of being clad in
rags was dressed like other overseers. He was no  longer obliged to
walk with the gang to and from the palace, and was at last granted
permission to go into  the town for an hour or two after his work
was over, instead of returning direct to the prison. The first time
this permission was given to him he placed himself on the road by
which Ben Ibyn would leave the town,  choosing a quiet spot where
the meeting would not be observed. Gervaise had for some time taken
to  staining his face, hands, and legs with walnut juice, beginning
with a weak solution, and very gradually  increasing the strength
until he had reached a shade approximating to that of the lighter
coloured portion of  the population. The head mason had on one
occasion noticed it, and said, "The sun is darkening your skin,
Gervaise, until you might verily pass as a Moor."

Gervaise detected an expression of doubt in the tone the officer
had spoken to the interpreter, and replied at  once, "It is not
altogether the sun. Since I have obtained permission to come to my
work alone, I have taken  to slightly darkening my skin, in order
to go to and fro unmolested, and free from the insults that the
boys  and beggars hurl at Christians."

The master mason nodded approvingly when the answer was translated
to him.

"It is a wise step," he said; "for truly the hatred of Christians
is very strong among the lower classes,  especially since it became
known that the galleys that sailed from here nearly two years ago
were, with all  the fleet from which so much was expected, utterly
destroyed. It is well, then, that you should pass  unnoticed, for
were there a tumult in the street you might lose your life, and I
should lose the best labour  overseer I have ever had."

Thus, then, as Gervaise walked through the streets on the first
occasion of obtaining his liberty, he attracted  no attention
whatever. When he saw Ben Ibyn approaching he stepped out to meet
him. The merchant  looked in his face, but for a moment failed to
recognise him, then he exclaimed suddenly, "It is Gervaise!  Ah,
my son, I am indeed rejoiced to see you. We have spoken of you
so often at home, and sorely did my  wife and daughters grieve
when you were torn from us. I did not dare to send any message to
you, for the  sultan pretended great anger against me, and used
the opportunity to squeeze me hardly; but I have  frequently made
inquiries about you, and was glad indeed to find that even in prison
you received  promotion; had it been otherwise -- had I found that
you were in misery -- I would have endeavoured,  whatever the risk,
to aid you to escape."

"I have indeed nothing to complain of, and was sorry to learn that
you had suffered on my account. Have  you ever learned how it came
about that I was denounced?"

"No, indeed; I would have given much to know, and assuredly the
dog, whoever he was, should have been  made to suffer."

"It was Hassan. The villain met me when I was with the gang, and
boasted that it was he who had sent me  there. He had told the news
to some official, who had, of course, repeated it to the sultan;
doubtless he  concealed his own share in the matter, otherwise he
too would, next time he returned here, have had to pay  for his
part in it."

"I will make him pay more heavily than the sultan would," Ben Ibyn
said sternly; "I will speak to my  friends among the merchants, and
henceforth no Berber will buy aught from him; and we have hitherto
been his best customers. But let us not waste our time in speaking
of this wretch. How comes it that you are  walking freely in the
streets of Tripoli? I can see that your face is stained, although
you are no longer a  Nubian."

Gervaise told him how it was that he was free to walk in the city
after his work was done.

"I shall now," he went on, "be able to carry out any plan of escape
that may occur to me; but before I leave,  as I shall certainly do
ere long, I mean to settle my score with Hassan, and I pray you to
send one of the  men who were with me in the galley, and whom you
took into your employment, directly you hear that his  ship is
in harbour.  Do not give him either a note or a message: bid him
simply place himself in the road  between the prison gate and the
palace, and look fixedly at me as I pass. I shall know it is a
signal that  Hassan is in the port."

"Can I aid you in your flight? I will willingly do so."

"All that I shall need is the garb of a peasant," Gervaise said.
"I might buy one unnoticed; but, in the first  place, I have no
money, and in the second, when it is known that I have escaped,
the trader might recall the  fact that one of the slave overseers
had purchased a suit of him."

"The dress of an Arab would be the best," the merchant said. "That
I will procure and hold in readiness for  you.  On the day when I
send you word that Hassan is here, I will see that the gate of my
garden is unbarred  at night, and will place the garments down just
behind it. You mean, I suppose, to travel by land?"

"I shall do so for some distance. Were I to steal a boat from the
port, it would be missed in the morning,  and I be overtaken. I
shall therefore go along the coast for some distance and get a boat
at one of the  villages, choosing my time when there is a brisk
wind, and when I may be able to get well beyond any risk  of being
overtaken. Now, Ben Ibyn, I will leave you; it were better that
we should not meet again, lest some  suspicion might fall upon you
of having aided in my escape. I cannot thank you too much for all
your past  kindness, and shall ever bear a grateful remembrance of
yourself and your family."

"Perhaps it were better so," Ben Ibyn said; "for if the Moors can
find any excuse for plundering us, they do  so.  Have you heard
the news that the Sultan of Turkey's expedition for the capture of
Rhodes is all but  complete, and will assuredly sail before many
weeks have passed?"

"I have not heard it," Gervaise replied; "and trust that I may be
in time to bear my share in the defence.  However, the blow has
been so often threatened that it may be some time before it falls."

"May Allah bless you, my son, and take you safely back to your
friends!  Be assured that you shall have  notice as soon as I know
that Hassan has returned, and you shall have the bundle with all
that is needful,  behind my gate."

Another two months passed. Gervaise looked in vain for Ben Ibyn's
messenger as he went to and from the  palace, and chafed terribly
at the delay, when, for aught he knew, the Turkish fleet might
already have  brought Mahomet's army to Rhodes. At last, as he came
back from work, he saw with intense satisfaction  one of the men,
whose face he recognised, leaning carelessly against the wall. The
man gave no sign of  recognition, but looked at him earnestly for
a minute, and then sauntered off up the street. Gervaise went up
into the town as usual, walked about until it became quite dark,
and then went to the gate that led into the  merchant's garden.
He found that it was unfastened, and, opening it, he went in and
closed it behind him.  As he did so he started, for a voice close
by said,

"Master, it is I, the messenger whom you saw two hours since. Ben
Ibyn bade me say that he thought you  might require some service,
and, knowing that I could be trusted, bade me wait for you here.
He thought  that you might possibly need a messenger to Hassan."

"The very thing," Gervaise exclaimed. "I have been puzzling myself
in vain as to how I could get speech  with him in some quiet place;
but with your assistance that will be easy; but first let me put
on this  disguise."

This was easily effected, even in the dark. A loose flowing robe
of white cotton, girt in at the waist, a long  bernouse with hood
to cover the head, a sash with a dagger, and a scimitar, completed
the disguise.

"Here is a pouch," the man said, "with money for your journey, and
a long sword, which he says you can  hang at your back beneath your
bernouse."

Gervaise gave an exclamation of pleasure. By its length and weight
he was sure that the weapon must have  been the property of a
Christian knight.

"Shall I carry the message this evening?" the man asked.  "It is
early still, and it were best that you should  not linger in the
city, where there is sure to be a strict search for you in the
morning."

"But perhaps he may recognise your face?"

"It is blackened, my lord, and I am dressed as you were when with
Ben Ibyn."

"Let us settle our plans, then, before we sally out from here;
we could not find a safer place for talking.  What message, think
you, would be the most likely to tempt Hassan to come ashore? You
do not know  what spoil he has brought?"

"No; besides, if a merchant wanted to buy he would go on board to
inspect Hassan's wares. We must have  something to sell. It must
be something tempting, and something that must be disposed of
secretly. I might  tell him that my employer -- and I would mention
some merchant whose name would carry weight with  him -- has received
from the interior a large consignment of slaves, among whom are
three or four girls,  who would fetch high prices in Egypt, and as
he believes they have been captured from a tribe within the  limits
of the sultan's territory, he is anxious to get rid of them, and
will either dispose of them all cheaply in  a lot, or will hand them
over to him to take to Egypt to sell, giving him a large commission
for carrying  them there and disposing of them."

"I do not like tempting even an enemy by stories that are untrue,"
Gervaise said doubtfully.

"I have no scruples that way," the man said, with a laugh; "and it
is I who shall tell the story, and not you."

Gervaise shook his head.

"Could you not say that you came from one who owes him a heavy debt
and desires to pay him?"

"I do not think that would bring him ashore. Hassan doubtless trades
for ready money, and must be well  aware that no one here can be
greatly in his debt. No, my lord; leave the matter in my hands. I
will think of  some story before I go on board that will fetch him
ashore. But first we must settle where I am to bring  him; there
are some deserted spots near the wall on the east side of the town."

"I know where you mean," Gervaise agreed; "let us go in that
direction at once, for the sooner you are off  the better."

In half an hour a spot was fixed on, near some huts that had fallen
into ruin. Here Gervaise seated himself  on a sand heap, while the
man hurried away. The moon had just risen, it being but three days
since it was at  its full. The night was quiet; sounds of music,
laughter, and occasional shouts came faintly from the town.  Seated
where he was, Gervaise could see the port and the ships lying there.
Half an hour later he saw a boat  row off to one of them, which
he had already singled out, from its size and general appearance,
as being  that of Hassan; ten minutes later he saw it returning.
At that distance separate figures could not be made  out, but it
seemed to him that it loomed larger than before, and he thought
that certainly one, if not more,  persons, were returning with his
messenger. Presently he heard men approaching; then Hassan's voice
came  distinctly to his ears.

"How much farther are you going to take me?  Remember, I warned
you that unless I found that my  journey repaid me, it would be
bad for you."

"It is but a few yards farther, my lord. There is my master the
sheik of the Beni Kalis awaiting you."

Gervaise rose to his feet as Hassan and two of his crew came up.

"Now," the former said roughly, "where have you bestowed these
captives you want to sell me?"

"Will you please to follow me into this courtyard?" Gervaise said.
He had, while waiting, reconnoitred the  neighbourhood, and found
an enclosure with the walls still perfect, and had determined to
bring Hassan  there, in order to prevent him from taking to flight.
Hassan entered it unsuspectingly, followed by his two  men. Gervaise
fell back a little, so as to place himself between them and the
entrance.  Then he threw back  the hood of his bernouse.

"Do you recognise me, Hassan?" he said sternly. "I am the captive
whom you beat almost to death. I told  you that some day I would
kill you; but even now I am willing to forgive you and to allow you
to depart in  peace, if you will restore the amulet you took from
me."

The corsair gave a howl of rage.

"Christian dog!" he exclaimed. "You thought to lead me into a trap,
but you have fallen into one yourself.  You reckoned that I should
come alone; but I suspected there was something hidden behind the
story of  that black, and so brought two of my crew with me. Upon
him, men! Cut him down!" So saying, he drew  his scimitar, and
sprang furiously upon Gervaise. The latter stepped back into the
centre of the gateway, so  as to prevent the men, who had also drawn
their swords, passing to attack him from behind.  He had undone
the clasp of his bernouse, and allowed it to fall to the ground as
he addressed Hassan, and his long sword  flashed in the moonlight
as the corsair sprang forward.

Hassan was a good swordsman, and his ferocious bravery had rendered
him one of the most dreaded of the  Moorish rovers. Inferior in
strength to Gervaise, he was as active as a cat, and he leapt back
with the spring  of a panther, avoiding the sweeping blow with
which Gervaise had hoped to finish the conflict at once; the  latter
found himself therefore engaged in a desperate fight with his three
assailants. So furiously did they  attack him that, foot by foot,
he was forced to give ground. As he stepped through the gateway one
of the  pirates sprang past him, but as he did so, a figure leapt
out from beyond the wall, and plunged a dagger into  his back,
while at the same moment, by cutting down another pirate, Gervaise
rid himself of one of his  assailants in front; but as he did so,
he himself received a severe wound on the left shoulder from Hassan,
who, before he could again raise his weapon, sprang upon him, and
tried to hurl him to the ground.

Gervaise's superior weight saved him from falling, though he
staggered back some paces; then his heel  caught against a stone,
and he fell, dragging Hassan to the ground with him. Tightly
clasped in each other's  arms, they rolled over and over. Gervaise
succeeded at last in getting the upper hand, but as he did so  Hassan
twisted his right arm free, snatched the dagger from Gervaise's
girdle, and struck furiously at him.  Gervaise, who had half risen
to his knees, was unable to avoid the blow, but threw himself
forward, his  weight partly pinning the corsair s shoulders to the
ground, and the blow passed behind him, inflicting but a  slight
wound in the back; then, with his right hand, which was now free,
he grasped Hassan by the throat  with a grip of iron. The pirate
struggled convulsively for a moment, then his left hand released
his grasp of  his opponent's wrist.  A minute later Gervaise rose
to his feet: the pirate was dead.

Gervaise stooped and raised the fallen man's head from the ground,
felt for the chain, pulled up Claudia's  gage, and placed it round
his own neck; then he turned to his guide.

"I have to thank you for my life," he said, holding out his hand to
him.  "It would have gone hard with me if  that fellow had attacked
me from behind. I had not bargained for three of them."

"I could not help it, my lord. It was not until Hassan had stepped
down into the boat that I knew he was  going to take any one with
him; then he suddenly told two of his men to take their places by
him, saying to  me, as he did so, 'I know not whether this message
is a snare; but mind, if I see any signs of treachery, your  life
at any rate will pay the forfeit.' I knew not what to do, and indeed
could do nothing; but, knowing my  lord's valour, I thought that,
even against these odds, you might conquer with such poor aid as
I could give  you."

"It was not poor aid at all," Gervaise said heartily.  "Greatly
am I indebted to you, and sorry indeed am I,  that I am unable to
reward you now for the great service that you have rendered me."

"Do not trouble about that, my lord. I am greatly mistaken if I
do not find in the sashes of these three  villains sufficient to
repay me amply for my share in this evening's work. And now, my
lord, I pray you to  linger not a moment.  The gates of the town
shut at ten o'clock, and it cannot be long from that hour now.
But first, I pray you, let me bind up your shoulder; your garment
is soaked with blood."

"Fortunately my bernouse will hide that; but it were certainly best
to staunch the blood before I start, for it  would be hard for me
to get at the wound myself."

The man took one of the sashes of the corsairs, tore it into strips,
and bandaged the wound; then with  another he made a sling for the
arm. As he took off the sashes a leather bag dropped from each,
and there  was a chink of metal.  He placed them in his girdle,
saying, "I shall have time to count them when I get  back."

Gervaise sheathed his sword, and put on the bernouse, pulling the
hood well over his head; then, with a few  more words of thanks,
started for the gate, leaving the man to search Hassan's girdle.

The gate was a quarter of a mile distant. Gervaise passed through
with the usual Arabic salutation to the  sentry, and with difficulty
repressed a shout of exultation as he left Tripoli behind him.

Following the coast road he walked till daylight; then he left
it and lay down among the sand hills for five  or six hours. He
calculated that no pursuit would be begun until midday. His absence
was not likely to be  noticed until the gangs began work in the
morning, when an alarm would be given. The sentries at the gates
on the previous evening would be questioned, and when it was found
that no one answering to his  description had passed out before
these were closed, there would be a rigid search throughout the
city and  port. The vessels would all be examined, and the boatmen
questioned as to whether any craft was missing.   Not until the
search proved absolutely fruitless would it be seriously suspected
that he had, either by  passing through the gates in disguise,
or by scaling the walls, made for the interior. None knew that he
could speak Arabic, and it would be so hopeless an undertaking for
any one unacquainted with the  language to traverse the country
without being detected, that the Moors would be slow to believe that
he  had embarked upon such adventure.  However, when all search for
him in the town and in the vessels in the  port proved fruitless,
doubtless mounted men would be despatched in all directions; some
would take the  coast roads, while others would ride into the interior
to warn the head men of the villages to be on the  lookout for an
escaped slave.

After a sleep of five hours, Gervaise pursued his journey. He had
walked for eight hours, and calculated  that he must be fully thirty
miles from Tripoli, and that not until evening would searchers
overtake him.  After walking four miles he came to a large village.
There he purchased a bag of dates, sat down on a stone  bench by
the roadside to eat them, and entered into conversation with two
or three Moors who sauntered  up. To these he represented that he
belonged to a party of his tribe who had encamped for the day at
a short  distance from the village in order to rest their horses
before riding into Tripoli, whither they were  proceeding to exchange
skins of animals taken in the chase, and some young horses, for
cotton clothes,  knives, and other articles of barter with the
tribes beyond them.

After quenching his thirst at a well in front of the mosque, he
retraced his steps until beyond the village,  then struck out into
the country, made a detour, came down into the road again, and
continued his journey  eastward.  He walked until nightfall, and
then again lay down.

He was now fully fifty miles from Tripoli, and hoped that he was
beyond the point to which horsemen from  that town would think of
pursuing their search. It was likely that they would not have gone
beyond the  village at which he had halted on the previous day; for
when they learned from the inhabitants that no  stranger, save an
Arab, had entered it, they would content themselves with warning
the head man to be on  the watch for any stranger unable to speak
their tongue, and would not consider it necessary to push their
steps farther.

For four days Gervaise continued his journey. At each village
through which he passed he added to his  stock of dates, until he
had as many as he could carry under his bernouse without attracting
observation. He  also purchased a large water bottle, which he
slung round his neck.

All this time the sea lay to his left like a sheet of glass, and
he knew that until a change of weather  occurred, it was useless
for him to attempt to escape by boat. On the fifth day there were
signs of a change.  He saw a dark line far out at sea; it came
across the water rapidly, and presently a gentle breeze began to
blow from the northwest; it gradually increased in strength, and
when, in the afternoon, he stopped at a  village, the waves were
breaking upon the shore.

After repeating his usual story, he sauntered down to the water's
edge. There were several boats hauled up,  and a hundred yards out
two or three larger craft were lying at anchor. He entered into
conversation with  some of the fishermen, and his questions as to
the boats led them to believe him altogether ignorant of the  sea.
The craft were, they told him, used sometimes for fishing, but they
often made voyages to towns along  the coast with dates and other
produce. Each boat carried a single short mast, to the top of which
was  attached a long tapering spar, on which the sail was furled.

Gervaise knew that these small feluccas were generally fast sailors
and fair sea boats, and resolved to seize  one of them, trusting
that when once the sail was shaken out he would be able to manage
it single handed.  Accustomed to boats, he picked out that which
he thought would be the fastest, and then walked away for  half a
mile, and lay down to sleep until the village was silent for the
night. He had with him some oaten  cakes he had bought there, a
string of fish he had purchased from the boatmen, and with these
and the dates  he thought he could manage for four or five days
at least. As to water, he could only hope that he should  find a
supply on board the boat. When he judged it to be about ten o'clock
he went down to the shore again,  took off his clothes and made
them into a bundle; then, wading out into the water to within fifty
yards of  the felucca, swam off to it, towing the bundle behind
him.

He had no difficulty in climbing on board, and after dressing himself
in the clothes he had worn at Tripoli,  and had kept on underneath
the Arab attire, he pulled the head rope until the craft was nearly
over the  anchor. He then loosened the line that brailed up the
sail, got the stone that served as an anchor on board,  hauled the
sheet aft, and took his place at the tiller. The wind had dropped
a good deal with the sun, but  there was still sufficient air to
send the light craft fast through the water. He steered out for
a time, and  then, when he thought himself a good mile from the
shore, headed east. By the appearance of the water as it  glanced
past, he thought that he must be making from five to six miles an
hour, and when the sun rose at  five o'clock, believed that he was
nearly forty miles on his way. He now fastened the tiller with a
rope and  proceeded to overhaul the craft.

It was decked over forward only, and he crept into the cabin, which
was little more than three feet high.  The first thing his eye lit
on was a bulky object hanging against the side, and covered with
a thick black  blanket of Arab manufacture. Lifting this, he saw,
as he expected, that the object beneath it was a large  waterskin
well filled; the blanket had evidently been placed over it to keep
it cool when the sun streamed  down on the deck above it. There
was also a large bag of dates, and another of flat cakes, and he
guessed  that these had all been put on board the evening before,
in readiness for a start in the morning. This relieved  him of
his chief anxiety, for he had been unable to think of any plan for
replenishing his supply, or to  concoct a likely tale that, were
he obliged to go on shore, would account for his being alone in a
craft of  that size.

The wind increased again after sunrise, and being unable to reef
the sail single handed he managed partially  to brail it up. All
day the craft flew along with the wind on the quarter, making six
or seven miles an hour;  and he felt that by morning he would be
well beyond pursuit. On the run he passed several craft engaged in
fishing, but these gave him no uneasiness. He had in the morning,
with some old sails he found, constructed  three rough imitations
of human figures, one with the Arab dress and another with the
bernouse, and had  placed them against the bulwarks, so that at a
short distance it would appear that there were three men on  board.
Feeling confident that the deception would not be noticed, he kept
his course without swerving, and  passed some of the fishing boats
within hailing distance, waving his hand and shouting the usual
Arab  salutation to their crews.

During the day he contented himself with eating some dates and an
oatmeal cake or two; but at sunset he  added to this two or three
fish that he had split open and hung up to dry in the sun and wind.
There was  charcoal on board, and a flat stone served as a hearth
in the bottom of the boat, but he had no means of  lighting a fire,
for this the fishermen would have brought off when they came on
board in the morning.  After he had finished his meal and taken his
place again at the tiller he altered his course.  Hitherto he had
been steering to the south of east, following the line of coast, but
he now saw before him the projecting  promontory of Cape Mezurata,
which marks the western entrance of the great Gulf of Sydra; and he
now  directed his course two points north of east, so as to strike
the opposite promontory, known as Grenna,  more than a hundred
miles away. The wind fell much lighter, and he shook out the sail
to its full extent. All  night he kept at his post, but finding
the wind perfectly steady he lashed the tiller so as to keep the
boat's  head in the direction in which he was steering, and dozed
for some hours, waking up occasionally to assure  himself that she
was keeping her course.

At sunrise he indulged in a wash in sea water, and felt freshened
and revived. He now kept a sharp lookout  for distant sails, for
he was out of the ordinary course a coaster would take, and would
have attracted the  attention of any corsair coming out from the
land; the sea, however, remained clear of ships. All day the  felucca
made rapid progress, for although the wind freshened, Gervaise did
not lessen sail as before, being  now accustomed to the boat and
confident of her powers. As soon as the wind died away again after
sunset,  he lay down for a good sleep, feeling this was an absolute
necessity, and knowing that before morning he  should be obliged
to keep a sharp lookout for land. He slept longer than he had
intended, for the day was  breaking when he opened his eyes. He
sprang to his feet, and saw the land stretching ahead of him at a
distance, as he thought, of some fifteen miles, and at once put
the helm down and bore more to the north.

He judged, from what he had heard on the coast, that he must be
nearly off Cape Tejones, behind which lies  the town of Bengasi,
and was confirmed in the belief on finding half an hour later that
the coast, which had  run nearly north and south, trended sharply
away to the northeast. All day long he kept about the same  distance
from the land, and at night, instead of keeping on his course,
brailed up the sail entirely, and  allowed the vessel to drift, as
he knew that before morning he should lose the coast if he continued
as he  was going. He slept without moving until daylight, and then
saw, to his satisfaction, by means of landmarks  he had noticed the
evening before, that the boat had drifted but a few miles during
the night. As the day  went on, he saw that the coastline was now
east and west, and felt that he must be off the most northerly
point of the promontory; he accordingly laid his course to the
northeast, which would take him close to  Cape Saloman, the most
easterly point of Crete, and from two hundred and fifty to three
hundred miles  distant.

For twenty-four hours he sailed quietly on, the wind dropping lighter
and lighter; then it suddenly died out  altogether; for some hours
there was not a breath to stir the surface of the water, and the
heat was stifling.  Gervaise slept for some time; when he awoke the
same stillness reigned, but there was a change in the  appearance
of the sky; its brightness was dulled by a faint mist, while, although
the sea was of a glassy  smoothness, there was an imperceptible
swell that caused the felucca to sway uneasily.  Gervaise had
sufficient experience of the Levant to know that these signs were
ominous of a change, and he at once set to  work to prepare for
it. Although he saw that it would be difficult for him unaided to
hoist the long spar  back into its place, he decided to lower it.
This was not difficult, as its weight brought it down on to the
deck as soon as he slackened the halliards; he unhooked it from the
block, and then lashed the sail securely  to it. When he had done
this he looked round. A bank of dark clouds lay across the horizon
to the  northwest, and in a short time he could see that this was
rising rapidly.

Before taking down the spar and sail, he had deliberated as to whether
it would be better to run before the  coming gale or to lie to, and
had decided on the latter alternative, as, were it to continue to
blow long, he  might be driven on to the Egyptian coast. Moreover,
the felucca's bow was much higher out of water than  the stern, and
he thought that she would ride over the waves with greater safety
than she would did they  sweep down upon her stern.

He had heard that the Greeks, when caught in a sudden gale in small
boats, often lashed the oars together,  threw them overboard with
a rope attached, and rode to them safely through a sea that would
otherwise  have overwhelmed them. After much consideration as to
what had best be done, he took the anchor rope,  which was some
sixty yards in length, fastened one end to each end of the spar,
and then lashed the middle  of the rope to the bow of the felucca;
then, using an oar as a lever, he with great labour managed to
launch  the spar over the bow, with the sail still attached to it.

When he had completed this, he looked round at the state of the
weather. The clouds had risen so fast that  their edge was nearly
overhead, spanning the sky like a great arch.  Ahead of him it
seemed almost as black  as night. He had not been out in many of the
gales that at times sweep the eastern waters of the  Mediterranean
with terrible violence, but had seen enough of them to know that
it was no ordinary one that  he was about to encounter. He looked
over the bow; the spar at present was lying in contact with the
stem.  With an oar he pushed it across so as to be at right angles
with the craft, and then, there being nothing else  to do, sat
down and waited for the storm to burst. In a short time he heard a
dull moaning sound, a puff of  wind struck the boat, but in a few
seconds died out; it was sufficient to give the light craft stern
way, and  she drifted backwards, the rope tightening, until the
spar lay across her bows, and some twenty yards away.

The dull moaning had grown louder; and now ahead of him he saw
a white line. It approached with  extraordinary rapidity. Knowing
the fury with which it would burst upon him, he leapt down, and stood
at  the entrance to the cabin, with his head just above the deck.
With a deafening roar the wind struck the boat,  which staggered
as if she had on her full course struck on a rock, while a shower
of spray flew over her.  Half blinded and deafened, Gervaise crawled
into the cabin, closed the door, and lay down there; whatever
happened, there was nothing he could do. He was soon conscious
that the spar and sail were doing their  work, for the boat still
lay head to wind. The noise overhead and around was deafening; above
the howl of  the wind could be heard the creaking of the timbers,
and the boat seemed to shiver as each fresh gust struck  her.

In half an hour he looked out again. There was, as yet, but little
sea; the force of the wind seemed to flatten  the water, and the
instant a wave lifted its head it was cut off as if by a knife,
and carried away in spray.  The boat herself was moving rapidly
through the water, dragging the spar behind her, and Gervaise almost
trembled at the thought of the speed at which she would have flown
along had it not been for the restraint  of the floating anchor.
Gradually the sea got up, but the light craft rode easily over
it, and Gervaise, after  commending his safety to God, lay down,
and was soon fast asleep. In spite of the motion of the vessel, he
slept soundly for many hours. When he awoke he opened the cabin
door and looked out. A tremendous sea  was running, but he thought
the wind, although so strong that he could scarce lift his head
above the shelter  of the bulwark, was less violent than it had
been when it first broke upon him. He saw to his satisfaction  that
the felucca breasted the waves lightly, and that although enveloped
in spray she took no green water  over the bows.

The spar and sail acted not only as a floating anchor, but as a
breakwater, and the white crested waves,  which came on as if they
would break upon the boat, seemed robbed of half their violence
by the  obstruction to their course, and passed under the felucca
without breaking. For forty-eight hours the gale  continued; at
the end of that time it ceased almost as suddenly as it had begun.
The sun shone brightly out,  the clouds cleared entirely away. It
was some hours before the sea went down sufficiently for Gervaise
to  attempt to get the spar on deck again. It was a heavy task,
taxing his strength to the utmost, but after a deal  of labour it
was got on board, and then raised to its position at the masthead;
the sail was shaken out, and  the felucca again put on her course.



CHAPTER XX BELEAGUERED


One morning towards the end of May, 1480, Sir John Boswell was
standing with some other knights on St.  Stephen's Hill, near the
city, having hurried up as soon as a column of smoke from a bonfire
lighted by the  lookout there, gave the news that the Turkish fleet
was at last in sight. A similar warning had been given a  month
previously, but the fleet had sailed past the island, being bound for
Phineka, which was the  rendezvous where Mahomet's great armament
was to assemble. There could be but little doubt that the long
expected storm was this time about to burst. The fleet now seen
approaching numbered a hundred and sixty  large ships, besides a
great number of small craft, conveying a force variously estimated
at from seventy to  a hundred thousand men.

"'Tis a mighty fleet," Sir John said; "and the worst of it is that
we know there are more to follow; still, I  doubt not we shall
send them back defeated. Our defences are all complete; our recent
peace with Egypt  has enabled us to fill up our magazines with
provisions of all kinds; the inhabitants of the Island have had
ample warning to move into the town, carrying with them everything
of value; so the Turks will obtain but  little plunder, and will
be able to gather no means of subsistence on the island, as every
animal has been  driven within the walls, and even the unripe corn
has been reaped and brought in. However long the siege  lasts, we
need be in no fear of being reduced to sore straits for food. Look
over there. There is a small craft  under sail, and it comes not
from the direction of Phineka. See!  one of the Turkish galleys
has separated  from the rest and is making off in that direction.
It may be that the little craft contains one or two of our  comrades
who are late in coming to join us."

"It may well be so, Sir John, for they have been straggling in by
twos and threes for the last month."

"I will get the grand master's leave to put out in one of the
galleys," Sir John said, "for, by the way they are  bearing, the
Turks will cut the little craft off before she can gain the port."

He hurried to D'Aubusson, who was standing a short distance apart
from the others, gazing at the Turkish  fleet.  A minute later
he was running down the hill to the town, accompanied by three or
four other knights;  they made direct for the outer port, where
two galleys were lying in readiness, leapt on board one of them,
which already contained its quota of knights, and at once rowed out
of the port. Just as they did so the  Turkish galley fired a gun.

"I fear we shall be too late," Sir John said; "the Turk is gaining
fast on the other craft, whatever she may be.  There goes another
gun. Row your hardest!" he shouted down to the slaves.

The Turkish ship did not fire again; the wind was light, and they
were going two feet through the water to  every one sailed by the
other craft. The galley from Rhodes was still half a mile away when
the Turk was  close to the boat that was trying to escape. Sir John
and the knights chafed as they saw they would be too  late.

"I can't make out why the boat did not use her oars," the former
said. "Of course, she could not have kept  away from the galley,
but if she had rowed it would have made some difference, and we
might have been  nearly up."

"I can only see one man on board of her, Sir John," one of the
younger knights said; and two or three others  murmured that they
were of the same opinion.

"The others must be lying down; she cannot have less than from
fifteen to twenty men. The Turk is close  alongside. They still
hold on. There! She has gone about and escaped the attempt to run
her down. Now she  is heading for us again! Brave fellows! brave
fellows!" Sir John exclaimed, while a cheer broke from those  around
him; "but they have done for themselves. They must have seen us
coming out, and if they had  surrendered might have hoped to have
been retaken. Their chance of getting quarter was truly not great,
for  expecting -- as the Turks do -- to carry off both us and all
the inhabitants of the Island, a dozen fishermen  would have seemed
to them scarcely worth keeping. However, by holding on they have
thrown away any  chance they may have had. The Turks are alongside;
they are leaping down into the little craft. Ah! Two  more galleys
have just left their fleet, and are heading here."

"See, Sir John," one of the knights exclaimed, "there is a single
man standing in the bow of that craft: he is  facing the Moors
alone. See how they crowd there; you can see the weapons flashing
in the sun. They have  to press past the mast to get at him, and
as yet he seems to hold them all at bay."

"He has chosen his post well, D'Urville. The number of his assailants
prevents the archers on the Turkish  craft using their bows. Fire
those bow guns!" he shouted to the knights forward: "Take steady
aim at the  galley. It will distract their attention."

"Nobly done indeed!" one of the other knights shouted. "I have seen
him strike down four of the Turks."

"Row, men, row! 'Tis useless!" Sir John muttered, as he clenched
the hilt of his sword. "Useless! A Roland  could not long maintain
so unequal a fight."

A groan broke from those around him as suddenly the dark mass
of the assailants made a forward move,  and the single figure was
lost to sight. It was but for an instant; a moment later the crowd
separated, and a  man was seen to spring overboard.

"They will riddle him with their spears when he comes up; we shall
have nothing to do but to avenge him.  To your stations, comrades!
It is our turn now, and we have no time to lose, for the other two
Turks will be  up in twenty minutes, and I had orders not to fight
if it could be avoided:  but we must take this fellow."

Five minutes later the galley ran alongside the Turk, to which those
who had captured the boat had already  hastily returned. The ships
discharged their guns into each other, and then, as the galley ran
alongside, the  knights tried to leap on board of her. They were
opposed by a dense mass of Turks, for in addition to her  usual
crew the Moslem was crowded with troops. For three or four minutes
the knights tried, but in vain, to  get a footing on board; then
Sir John shouted to them to forbear, and gave orders to the rowers
at once to  push off. A cloud of arrows swept across the poop as
they did so; but for the most part these fell harmless  from the
armour of the knights. For a time the cannon on both sides continued
to fire, but as the Christians  increased their distance it gradually
ceased.

They had gone but a hundred yards from the Turk when a head appeared
over the stern railing of the poop,  and a figure swung itself
on to the deck. The man was attired in Turkish garments, but his
head was bare,  and the exclamation, "A Christian!" broke from the
knights.

The man strode up to Sir John Boswell.

"You used to say you would make matters even with me some day, Sir
John, and you have more than kept  your word."

Sir John fell back a pace in astonishment, and then with a shout,
"By St. George, it is Tresham!" threw his  arms round Gervaise's neck,
while the knights thronged round with exclamations of satisfaction.

"And it was you whom we saw keep the Turks at bay for three good
minutes single handed," Sir John said,  holding Gervaise at arm's
length to gaze into his face. "Truly it seemed well nigh impossible
that any one  who was like to be on that craft could have performed
so doughty a deed.  And how did you escape?"

"It was simple enough," Gervaise replied. "As soon as I dived
I turned and swam along under the boat and  came up by the stern,
and then held on by the rudder, sheltered from their sight. I saw
that the galley would  be up in five minutes, and had no fear of
their wasting time to look for me. Directly you came alongside her
I dived again, and rose under your stern. I did not think that you
would be able to take her, for all their craft  are crowded with
troops; so I contented myself with holding on until you were out
of reach of their arrows,  and then I climbed up."

"I am delighted to see you again, Gervaise. I was feeling very
sore at the moment, and I know the others  felt the same, at being
obliged to sheer off without making a capture; but the grand master's
orders were  strict. We noted your craft pursued by the Turks, and
I asked leave to take out a galley to cut her off. He  said, 'Take
one, Sir John, but do not adventure an attack against the Turk unless
she is likely to fall an easy  prize to you. Her capture would be
of little benefit to us, and would be dearly purchased at the cost
of a  knight's life. Therefore, as soon as we engaged her, and I
found that she was full of troops and could not be  captured without
heavy loss, and that two of her consorts might arrive before we
accomplished it, it was  plainly my duty to abandon the attempt,
although, you may guess, it went sorely against the grain to give
the order, especially as I knew that a host would be looking on
from St. Stephen's Hill. However, your  rescue more than makes up
for our failure; and thankful indeed am I that I made the suggestion
that we  should put out to save that little craft, though I thought
it contained but a few fishermen or some coasting  sailors, who had,
in ignorance that the Turks were at hand, tried to enter Rhodes.
One of those looking on  with me did, indeed, suggest that she
might have on board a knight or two coming to join us, but I did
not  give the matter a second thought."

"And how go things, Sir John? And how are old friends?"

"Ralph Harcourt and, I think, all your comrades in the Santa Barbara,
except the three who fell by your side  when you were captured,
are well, and at present on the Island, as, for the last two years,
none have been  allowed to depart.  As to other matters, they go
not so well as one could wish.  The commanderies have not  responded
to our call for aid as they should have done. For this, however, they
are not altogether to blame,  for we have been so often threatened
with attack, and have so frequently applied for aid in money or
men,  that they must have begun to doubt whether the danger was
really imminent. In other respects we are well  prepared. We have
obtained large stores of provisions from Egypt, and shall have no
ground for uneasiness  on that score. The defences have been greatly
strengthened, and no one fears that we shall not be able to  beat
off an attack.  We have destroyed the principal buildings outside
the walls, though it would have been  better could we have gone
much further in this direction. And now let us have your adventures
and escape."

"'Tis a long story, Sir John, and I must pray you to let me defer
it for a time. In the first place, I have two or  three wounds that
I shall be glad to have bandaged."

"Why did you not say so at once?" Sir John exclaimed.  "In those
dark clothes, soaked with water as they  are, I did not see the
bloodstains; but I ought to have looked for them, for surely no
one could have gone  through that fight -- altogether unprotected
with armour too -- without being wounded. Come below, and  we will
attend to them."

"Also order me some wine and food, Sir John; I have touched nothing
save water for twenty-four hours,  and before that fasted somewhat
strictly."

By the time Gervaise's wounds, which were not severe, had been
bandaged, and he had eaten a hasty meal,  the galley was alongside
the mole, between the two harbours.

He was provided with some clothes, and went with Sir John straight
to the English auberge, where the  knight insisted that he should
at once lie down.

"I will report your return to D'Aubusson, and will tell him it is
by my orders that you are resting. Your  wounds are not very deep,
but you must have lost a good deal of blood, and were you to exert
yourself  now, and be pestered with questions, it would probably
bring on an attack of fever.  There is nothing to do  at present,
for it must be some days before they can land and bring up their
guns."

Gervaise obeyed the orders not unwillingly, for he felt that he was
really weak, and was greatly worn out  by want of sleep. Sir John
Kendall, at Boswell's request, issued orders that he was on no
account whatever  to be disturbed, and that no one was to enter his
room unless he sounded the bell placed by the bedside.  Gervaise
indeed, falling off to sleep a few minutes after he had lain down,
did not awake until the following  morning. Having no idea that
he had slept more than two or three hours, he sounded the bell in
order to  inquire whether Ralph had returned to the auberge.  He was
surprised to find his friend had just risen, and  that he himself
had been asleep some eighteen hours!

A few minutes later Ralph hurried into the room.

"Thank God that you are back again, Gervaise!" he said, as he
grasped the hand of his friend. "I did not  return until late in
the evening, having been at work with a large body of slaves at
the fortifications; and  you may guess what joy I felt at the news.
You are changed a good deal."

"I don't suppose you will think so at the end of a day or two,
Ralph. I lost a good deal of blood yesterday,  and have been on
short rations; but I shall very soon pick up again."

"They will bring you some broth and wine directly, Gervaise. Early
as it is, the grand master has already  sent down to inquire as to
your health."

"I will reply in person as soon as I have had a meal and dressed."

"And I suppose we must all wait to hear what you have been doing
until you return, Gervaise?"

"I suppose so, Ralph. Of course it is a long story; but I must
tell you at once that there is nothing very  exciting in it, and
that it differed little from that of others who have been prisoners
among the Moors, save  that I was strangely fortunate, and suffered
no hardships whatever. And now I want to ask you about  clothes.
Have my things been sold, or are they still in the store?"

"No; the question was raised but a short time since. It was mooted,
by the way, by that old enemy of yours,  Robert Rivers, who returned
here some three months ago with a batch of knights from the English
commanderies. Sir John Boswell answered him roundly, I can tell
you, and said that they should be kept,  were it for another fifty
years, for that he would wager his life that you would sooner or
later make your  escape."

"I am sorry that fellow has returned, Ralph. Has he got a commandery
yet?"

"No; I believe that Sir John Kendall sent home so bad a report of
him, that even the great influence of his  family has not sufficed
to obtain his appointment, and that he has been merely the assistant
at one of the  smaller manors. Sir John Boswell told me in confidence
that he understood that Rivers did not at first  volunteer to come
out in response to the appeal of the grand master, but that the
grand prior informed him  that unless he took this opportunity of
retrieving his character, he might give up all hope of ever obtaining
advancement. Ah, here is your breakfast."

An hour later Gervaise presented himself at the palace, clothed in
the suit of armour that had been given to  him by Genoa. Although
he was engaged with several members of the council at the time,
the grand master  ordered him to be at once admitted as soon as he
heard that he was in attendance.

"Welcome back, Sir Gervaise Tresham," he said warmly, as he entered.
"We all rejoice greatly at your  return, and I consider it a happy
omen for the success of our defence that so brave and distinguished
a  knight should at the last moment have arrived to take a share
in it."

The others present all shook Gervaise cordially by the hand, and
congratulated him on his return.

"You must dine with me this evening," D'Aubusson went on, "and
tell us the story of your captivity and  escape.  At present, as
you may suppose, we have too many matters on hand to spare time
for aught that is  not pressing and important. You will need a
few days' rest before you are fit for active service, and by that
time we will settle as to what post will best suit you."

Twice that day had Gervaise to recount his adventures, the first
time to Sir John Kendall and the knights of  his auberge, the second
to the grand master. Most of the leading members of the Order were
assembled at  the palace, and, among others, he was introduced to
the Viscount de Monteuil, the elder brother of  D'Aubusson, one
of the most famous leaders of the day. He had brought with him a
considerable body of  retainers, and, although not a member of the
Order, had offered his services in defence of the town. The  council
had gratefully accepted the offer, and had unanimously named him
Commander of the Forces.   Many other knights and soldiers had
come from different parts of Europe, animated alike by the desire
to  aid in the defence of Christendom against the advance of the
Moslems, and to gain credit and honour by  taking part in a siege
that was sure to be a desperate one.

"My brother has already spoken of you to me, Sir Gervaise,"
the viscount said, when the young knight was  presented to him;
"although indeed there was no occasion for him to do so, since the
name of the knight  who two years ago saved the commerce of Italy
from ruin, and with a single galley destroyed or captured a  great
fleet of over twenty Barbary pirates, and thus for a time put a stop
to the depredations of the infidels,  is known throughout Europe.
By the way, I am the bearer of a message to you. I took ship at
Genoa on my  way hither, and stayed two or three days there while
she was being got ready for sea.  Knowing that I was  bound hither,
a certain very beautiful young lady of noble family, to whom I
had the honour of being  introduced, prayed me that if you should
by any chance have escaped from captivity -- and she said that
she  was convinced that you would, when you heard that Rhodes was
threatened, assuredly endeavour to escape  and to come hither to
take a share in the defence -- I was to tell you that she trusted
you still bore her gage,  and that she, on her part, had held fast
to the promise she made you."

"I still have her gage, Viscount; for though I was for a long
time deprived of it, I succeeded in regaining it  when I made my
escape," Gervaise said quietly; and De Monteuil at once turned the
conversation to  another topic.

Gervaise found that no attempt was to be made to take the offensive
against the Turks, and that they were  to be permitted to advance
against the city without interference.  Many of the more fiery
spirits among the  knights chafed at this prohibition. The records
of the past showed that armies as large as that of Mahomet  had
suffered defeat at the hands of bodies of knights no stronger than
that gathered for the defence of  Rhodes. D'Aubusson, however, knew
that between the undisciplined hordes that gathered in countless
numbers to oppose the crusaders, and the troops of Mahomet,
well trained in warfare, who had borne his  standard victoriously
in numerous battles, there was but little comparison. They were
commanded, too, by  Paleologus, a general of great capacity. Under
such circumstances, although victory might be possible, the  chances
of defeat would be far greater, and while victory could be only
won at a great sacrifice of life,  defeat would mean annihilation
to the garrison, and the loss of the city upon whose fortifications
such an  enormous amount of money and labour had been expended.

On the other hand, he felt perfectly confident that the city could
be successfully defended, and that at a cost  of life far less than
would be attained by a victory in the open field, while the blow
that would be inflicted  upon the prestige and power of the enemy,
by being ignominiously compelled to retire to their ships, after
the failure of all their attacks, would be as great as if their
army had been defeated in the field. Therefore  the grand master,
with the full assent of his leaders, turned a deaf ear to the
entreaties of the younger  knights, that they might be allowed
to make a sortie. He calmly waited behind the formidable defences
he  had for the past ten years been occupied in perfecting, in
anticipation of the assault of the Moslem host.

Accordingly, after disembarking at their leisure, the Turkish army
moved forward, and took their post upon  St. Stephen's Hill. From
this eminence they commanded a full view of the town, the hills
sloping gently  down to the foot of the walls. In later times the
first care of a general commanding the defence would have  been
to construct formidable works upon this commanding position. But
the cannon of that period were so  cumbrous and slowly worked,
and so inaccurate in their aim, that the advantage of occupying a
position  that would prevent an enemy from firing down into a town
was considered to be more than counterbalanced  by the weakening
of the garrison by the abstraction of the force required to man
the detached work, and by  the risk of their being surrounded and
cut off without the garrison of the town being able to aid them.

That the defence of St. Stephen's Hill was considered unnecessary
for the safety of Rhodes is shown by the  fact that no attempt had
been made to fortify it when, forty years later, the Moslems again
besieged the city.

There was no shadow of apprehension felt by the garrison of Rhodes
as the great array of their foes was  seen moving on to the hill,
and preparing to pitch its camp. On the summit was the great tent
of the pasha;  round this were the marquees of the other commanders,
while the encampments of the troops stretched far  away along the
upper slopes of the hill.

Previous to the despatch of the expedition, the sultan had made
preparations for aiding his arms by  treachery.  The agent he
had sent to propose a temporary truce had, during his stay on the
Island, made  himself thoroughly acquainted with the outline of the
works. A very accurate plan of them had also been  obtained from
an inhabitant of Rhodes, who had abandoned Christianity and taken
service with the Turks.

In addition to this he had arranged with a renegade German, known
as Maitre Georges, a man of very great  ability as an artilleryman
and engineer, to desert to the city, and there do all in his power
to assist the  besiegers, both by affording them information and
by giving bad advice to the besieged. On the day after  Paleologus,
who was himself a renegade Greek, had established his camp, he
sent in a herald to summon  the city to surrender, at the same time
making lavish promises that the lives and property of the native
population should be respected, and that they should be allowed
to continue to reside there, to enjoy the full  exercise of their
religion and of all other rights they possessed. The pasha had no
real hope that the knights  would obey the summons, but he thought
that he might excite a spirit of disaffection among the  townspeople
that would, when the crisis came, greatly hamper the efforts of
the defenders.

The Rhodians, however, were well satisfied with the rule of the
Order. The knights, although belonging to  the Catholic Church,
had allowed the natives of the Island, who were of the Greek faith,
perfect freedom in  the exercise of their religion, and their
rule, generally, had been fair and just. The wealth and prosperity
of  the Island had increased enormously since their establishment
there, and the population had no inclination  whatever to change
their rule for that of the Turks. The summons to surrender being
refused, the enemy  made a reconnaissance towards the walls.

D'Aubusson had no longer any reason for checking the ardour of the
knights, and a strong body of  horsemen, under the command of De
Monteuil, sallied out and drove the Turks back to their camp.

Maitre Georges, who was acting as the military adviser of the
pasha, saw at once that the weakest point of  the defence was Fort
St. Nicholas, at the extremity of the mole along the neck of land
dividing the outer  from the inner port. At a short distance away,
on the opposite side of the port, stood the church of St.  Anthony,
and in the gardens of the church a battery was at once erected.
The garden was but three hundred  yards from St. Nicholas, and the
danger that would arise from the construction of the battery was
at once  perceived, and an incessant fire opened upon it from the
guns on the wall round the grand master's palace.   Numbers of the
workmen were killed, but the erection of the battery was pushed on
night and day, and ere  long three of the immense cannon that had
been brought from Constantinople, -- where sixteen of them had
been cast under the direction of Maitre Georges -- were placed in
position. These cannon were eighteen feet  in length, and carried
stone balls of some twenty-six inches in diameter.

Before these were ready to open fire, Gervaise had entirely regained
his health and strength. The grand  master, being unwilling to
appoint him to a separate command over the heads of knights many
years his  senior, had attached him to his person in the capacity
of what would now be called an aide-de-camp.

"I know, Gervaise, that I can rely upon your coolness and discretion.
I cannot be everywhere myself, and I  want you to act as my eyes
in places where I cannot be. I know that the knights, so far as
bravery and  devotion are concerned, will each and every one do
his best, and will die at their posts before yielding a  foot; but
while fighting like paladins they will think of naught else, and,
however hardly pressed, will omit  to send to me for reinforcements.
Nay, even did they think of it, they probably would not send,
deeming  that to do so would be derogatory, and might be taken as
an act of cowardice. Now, it is this service that I  shall specially
look for from you. When a post is attacked, I shall, when my
presence is required elsewhere,  send you to represent me. I do not,
of course, wish you to interfere in any way in the conduct of the
defence, in which you will take such share as you can; but you
are specially to observe how matters go, and  if you see that the
knights are pressed and in sore need of assistance to enable them
to hold the post, you  will at once bring the news to me, and I
will hurry there with reinforcements."

No post could have been more in accordance with the desire
of Gervaise, for the portion of the wall  defended by the English
langue was far removed from the point selected by the Turks for their
first attack,  the sea front being defended half by the langue of
Italy, and half by that of Castile. Fort St. Nicholas was  under
the command of the Cavalier Caretto, and as soon as the Turkish
battery was completed, Gervaise  went down there with an order from
the grand master that he was for the present to consider himself as
forming part of the garrison. This was pleasant for both Caretto and
himself, for the Italian knight had  conceived a strong friendship
for the young Englishman, and had rejoiced greatly at his return
from  captivity, but had been so much occupied with his duty of
placing the castle in all respects in a state of  defence, that he
had had no opportunity for a private conversation with him since
his return to Rhodes.

Gervaise, on his part, was no less pleased. Caretto had shown so
much tact after his release from the Moors,  and had so willingly
aided him in any capacity allotted to him, without in the slightest
degree interposing  his council unasked, that Gervaise had come to
like him greatly, even before their arrival at Genoa.  Circumstances
there had brought them closely together, and their friendship had
been cemented during  their voyage to Rhodes. Caretto had gone back
to Italy, where he had a commandery, a few days after  Gervaise had
sailed on his last voyage, and had only returned to Rhodes three
months before Gervaise  escaped from captivity.

"This is turning the tables," Caretto said, with a laugh, when
Gervaise presented the grand master's order. "I  was under your
command last time, and now it seems that you are to be under mine.
I suppose you applied  to come here, in order to have a fresh
opportunity of distinguishing yourself. I heard that you had been
placed on D'Aubusson's own staff."

"Yes, and am on it still; and it is by his orders and not by my own
solicitation that I am here. I will tell you  what my duties are.
The grand master knows the commanders of posts have their hands so
full that they  will have no time for sending complete reports to
him, and he considers, moreover, that they might, in  some cases,
however pressed, hesitate to ask for aid until too late for
reinforcements to be brought up. My  duty will be to let the grand
master know how matters are going, and to send to him at once if
it seems to  me that help is needed. I should, of course, always
send for reinforcements, at the request of a commander;  but it is
only in the event of his being too busy in the heat of the fray to
think of aught but resisting an  attack, that I should exercise my
own judgment in the matter."

Caretto nodded.

"It is a good thought of D'Aubusson's. When one is in the thick
of a fight in a breach, with the Moslems  swarming round, it does
not occur to one to draw out of the fray to send off messages. For
myself, I shall be  glad indeed to have that matter off my mind,
though it is not every one I should care to trust with such a
responsibility.  Some might send off for aid when it was not needed,
others might delay so long that help  might come too late; but with
one so cool headed as yourself I should not fear any contingency.
And now,  as I am not busy at present, let us have a comfortable
talk as to what has happened since we met last. I was  at the
banquet at the grand master's on the night when you related your
adventures. You had certainly much  to tell, but it seems to me
for some reason or other you cut short certain details, and I could
not see why, as  there seemed no prospect of escape open to you,
you did not accept the offer of Suleiman Ali to ransom  you."

"I saw no chance of escape at the moment, but I did not doubt that
I could get away from the town  whenever I chose, although it was
not clear how I should proceed afterwards. It was for this opportunity
I  was waiting, and I felt sure that, with my knowledge of the
language, it would come sooner or later. In the  next place, my
captors had fixed an exorbitant sum for my ransom, and I did not
wish to impose upon the  generosity of Suleiman. There was another
reason -- a private one."

"You don't mean to say that you had fallen in love with a Moorish
damsel, Sir Gervaise?" Caretto laughed.

"For shame, Cavalier! As if a Christian knight would care for a
Moslem maiden, even were she as fair as  the houris of their creed!"

"Christian knights have done so before now," Caretto laughed,
greatly amused at the young knight's  indignation, "and doubtless
will do so again. Well, I suppose I must not ask what the private
matter was,  though it must have been something grave indeed to lead
you, a slave, to reject the offer of freedom. I know  that when I
was rowing in their galleys, no matter of private business that I
can conceive would have stood  in my way for a single moment, had
a chance of freedom presented itself."

"It was a matter of honour," Gervaise said gravely, "and one of
which I should speak to no one else; but as  you were present at
the time, there can, I think, be no harm in doing so. At the time
that I was captured, I  was stripped of everything that I had upon
me, and, of course, with the rest, of the gage which the Lady  Claudia
had given me, and which hung round my neck where she had placed
it. It was taken possession of  by the captain of the pirates, who,
seeing that it bore no Christian emblem, looked upon it as a sort
of  amulet. I understood what he was saying, but, as I was desirous
that my knowledge of Turkish should not  be suspected, I said
nothing. I was very glad that he so regarded it, for had he taken
it to be an ordinary  trinket, he might have parted with it, and I
should never have been able to obtain a clue as to the person to
whom he sold it. As it was, he put it round his neck, with the
remark that it might bring him better luck than  had befallen me.
He told me jeeringly months afterwards that it had done so, and
that he would never part  with it. Given me as it was, I felt that
my honour was concerned in its recovery, and that, should I ever
meet Lady Claudia again, I should feel disgraced indeed, if, when
she asked whether I still bore her gage, I  had to confess that it
was lost."

"But lost from no fault of your own," Caretto put in.

"The losing was not indeed from any fault of my own, and had the
pirate thrown it into the sea I should  have held myself free from
disgrace; but as it was still in existence, and I knew its possessor,
I was bound  in honour to recover it. At the time Suleiman Ali's
messenger arrived the corsair was away, and there was  no saying
when his ship would return; therefore, I decided at once not to
accept the offer of freedom. Had it  not been for that, I own that
I should have done so, for I knew that I could repay Suleiman from
the  revenues of my commandery, which would have accumulated in my
absence; but if I had had to wait ten  years longer to regain the
gage, I felt that I was in honour bound to do so. It was, in fact,
some six months  before the corsair put into that port again. The
moment he did so I carried out the plans I had long before  determined
upon.  I obtained a disguise from Ben Ibyn, and by a ruse succeeded
in inducing the pirate to  meet me outside the town, believing that
I was an Arab chief who wished to dispose of some valuable slave
girls he had brought in. I had with me one of my old galley slaves,
who had been taken into Ben Ibyn's  employment; and when the pirate
came up with two of his crew, and furiously attacked me as soon as
I  threw off my disguise, it would have gone hard with me had he
not stood by me, and killed one of them  who was about to attack
me in the rear. I slew the other and Hassan, and the gage is in
its place again."



CHAPTER XXI THE FORT OF ST. NICHOLAS


Well, you have proved indeed," Caretto said, when Gervaise finished
his story, "that you are worthy of the  bestowal of a gage by a
fair damsel. I do not think that many knights, however true they
might be to the  donor, would have suffered months of slavery
in order to regain a token, lost by no fault or carelessness of
their own; and no lady could have blamed or held them in any way
dishonoured by the loss."

"I had a message by the Viscount De Monteuil from Lady Claudia
the other day, saying that she trusted I  had kept her gage. I can
assure you that the six months of slavery were cheaply purchased
by the pleasure I  felt that I still possessed it; and I was glad,
too, to learn that I had not been forgotten by her."

"Of that you may well assure yourself, Tresham; my commandery is not
far from Genoa, and I was  frequently with her, but never without
her drawing me aside and asking me if I had heard any news of you,
and talking over with me the chances there might be of your escape.
I can tell you that there are not a few  young nobles of Genoa
who would give much to be allowed as you are to carry her gage, or
wear her  colours. You should see her now; you would scarce know
her again, so altered and improved is she; there is  no fairer face
in all Italy."

"I hope some day to meet her again, " Gervaise replied; "although
I own to knowing it were better that I  should not do so. Until she
gave me her gage I had scarcely noticed her. I have, as you know,
no experience  of women, and had so much on my mind at the time,
what with the fuss they were making about us, and the  question of
getting the prizes here, that in truth I paid but slight attention
to the fair faces of the dames of  Genoa. But the gracious and
earnest way in which, though scarce more than a child, she gave
me her gage,  and vowed that no other knight should possess one so
long as I lived, struck me so greatly that I own I gave  the matter
much more thought than was right or becoming in one of our Order.
The incident was much  more gratifying to me than all the honour
paid me by the Republic, and during the long months of my  captivity
it has recurred to me so frequently that I have in vain endeavoured
to chase it from my thoughts,  as sinful thus to allow myself
constantly to think of any woman. Do not mistake me, Sir Fabricius.
I am  speaking to you as to a confessor, and just as I have kept
her amulet hidden from all, so is the thought of  her a secret
I would not part with for my life. I do not for a moment deceive
myself with the thought that,  beyond the fact that her gift has
made her feel an interest in me and my fate, she has any sentiment
in the  matter: probably, indeed, she looks back upon the gift as
a foolish act of girlish enthusiasm that led her into  making a
promise that she now cannot but find unpleasantly binding; for it
is but natural that among the  young nobles of her own rank and
country there must be some whom she would see with pleasure wearing
her colours."

Caretto looked at him with some amusement.

"Were you not bound by your vows as a knight of the Order, how
would you feel in the matter?"

"I should feel worse," Gervaise said, without hesitation.  "I have
oftentimes thought that over, and I see that  it is good for me I
am so bound. It does not decrease my chances, for, as I know, there
are no chances; but  it renders it more easy for me to know that
it is so."

"But why should you say that you have no chances, Tresham?"

"Because it is easy to see that it is so. I am, save for my
commandery and prospects in the Order, a  penniless young knight,
without home or estate, without even a place in my country, and
that country not  hers. I know that it is not only sinful, but mad,
for me to think so frequently of her, but at least I am not  mad
enough to think that I can either win the heart or aspire to the
hand of one who is, you say, so  beautiful, and who is, moreover,
as I know, the heiress to wide estates."

"'There was a squire of low degree, Loved the king's daughter of
Hungarie,'" Caretto sang, with a laugh.  "You are not of low degree,
but of noble family, Gervaise. You are not a squire, but a knight,
and already a  very distinguished one; nor is the young lady, though
she be a rich heiress, a king's daughter."

"At any rate, the squire was not vowed to celibacy. No, no, Sir
Fabricius, it is a dream, and a pleasant one;  but I know perfectly
well that it is but a dream, and one that will do me no harm so
long as I ever bear in  mind that it is so.  Many a knight of the
Order before me has borne a lady's gage, and carried it valiantly
in  many a fight, and has been no less true to his vows for doing
so."

"Upon the contrary, he has been all the better a knight, Gervaise;
it is always good for a knight, whether he  belongs to the Order
or not, to prize one woman above all others, and to try to make
himself worthy of his  ideal. As to the vow of celibacy, you know
that ere now knights have been absolved from their vows, and  methinks
that, after the service you have rendered to Italy by ridding the
sea of those corsairs, his Holiness  would make no difficulty in
granting any request that you might make him in that or any other
direction. I  don't know whether you are aware that, after you
sailed from here, letters came from Rome as well as from  Pisa,
Florence, and Naples, expressive of the gratitude felt for the
services that you had rendered, and of  their admiration for the
splendid exploit that you had performed."

"No; the grand master has had his hands so full of other matters
that doubtless an affair so old escaped his  memory. Indeed, he
may have forgotten that I sailed before the letters arrived."

"Do not forget to jog his memory on the subject, for I can tell you
that the letters did not come alone, but  were each accompanied by
presents worthy of the service you rendered. But as to the vows?"

"As to the vows, I feel as I said just now, that I would not free
myself of them if I could, for, being bound  by them, I can the
more easily and pleasantly enjoy my dream.  Besides, what should I
do if I left the Order  without home, country, or means, and with
naught to do but to sell my sword to some warlike monarch?  Besides,
Caretto, I love the Order, and deem it the highest privilege to
fight against the Moslems, and to  uphold the banner of the Cross."

"As to that, you could, like De Monteuil and many other knights
here, always come out to aid the Order in  time of need. As to the
vows, I am not foolish enough to suppose that you would ask to be
relieved from  them, until you had assured yourself that Claudia
was also desirous that you should be free."

"It is absurd," Gervaise said, almost impatiently. "Do not let us
talk any more about it, Caretto, or it will  end by turning my head
and making me presumptuous enough to imagine that the Lady Claudia,
who only  saw me for three or four days, and that while she was
still but a girl, has been thinking of me seriously  since."

"I do not know Claudia's thoughts," Caretto remarked drily, "but I
do know that last year she refused to  listen to at least a score
of excellent offers for her hand, including one from a son of
the doge himself, and  that without any reasonable cause assigned
by her, to the great wonderment of all, seeing that she does not
appear to have any leaning whatever towards a life in a nunnery.
At any rate, if at some future time you  should pluck up heart of
grace to tell her you love her, and she refuses you, you will at
least have the  consolation of knowing that you are not the only
one, by a long way, whose suit has been rejected. And  now as to
our affairs here. Methinks that tomorrow that battery will open
fire upon us. It seems completed."

"Yes, I think they are nearly ready," Gervaise said, turning his
mind resolutely from the subject they had  been discussing. "From
the palace wall I saw, before I came down here, large numbers of
men rolling huge  stones down towards the church. Our guns were
firing steadily; but could they load them ten times as fast  as
they do, they would hardly be able to stop the work, so numerous
are those engaged upon it."

"Yes we shall soon learn something of the quality of their artillery.
The tower is strong enough to resist  ordinary guns, but it will
soon crumble under the blows of such enormous missiles. Never have
I seen or  heard in Europe of cannon of such size; but indeed, in
this matter the Turks are far ahead of us, and have,  ever since
cannon were first cast, made them of much larger size than we in
Europe have done. However,  there is one comfort; they may destroy
this fort, but they have still to cross the water, and this under
the fire  of the guns on the palace walls; when they once land,
their great battery must cease firing, and we shall be  able to
meet them on equal terms in the breach. Fight as hard as they may,
I think we can hold our own,  especially as reinforcements can come
down to us more quickly than they can be brought across the water."

The next morning, at daybreak, the deep boom of a gun announced to
the city that the great battering  cannon had begun their work. In
the fort the sleeping knights sprang to their feet at the concussion
that  seemed to shake it to its centre. They would have rushed to
the walls, but Caretto at once issued orders that  no one should
show himself on the battlements unless under special orders.

"There is nothing whatever to be done until the Turks have breached
the wall, and are ready to advance to  attack us. Every sword will
be needed when that hour comes, and each man owes it to the Order
to run no  useless risk, until the hour when he is required to do
his share of the fighting."

The time required to reload the great cannon was considerable, but
at regular intervals they hurled their  heavy missiles against the
wall, the distance being so short that every ball struck it. After
some twenty  shots had been fired, Caretto, accompanied by Gervaise,
went out by a small gate on the eastern side of the  tower, and
made their way round by the foot of the wall to see what effect
the shots had produced on the  solid masonry.

Caretto shook his head.

"It is as I feared," he said. "No stones ever quarried by man could
long resist such tremendous blows. In  some places, you see, the
stones are starred and cracked, in others the shock seems to have
pulverised the  spot where it struck; but, worse, still, the whole
face of the wall is shaken. There are cracks between the  stones,
and some of these are partly bulged out and partly driven in.
It may take some time before a breach  is effected, but sooner or
later the wall will surely be demolished."

"I will go up and make my report to the grand master."

"Do so, Gervaise. I almost wonder that he has not himself come down
to see how the wall is resisting."

Gervaise, on reaching the palace, heard that D'Aubusson was at
present engaged in examining no less a  person than Maitre Georges,
the right hand of Paleologus, who had soon after daybreak presented
himself  before the wall on the other side of the town, declaring
that he had left the Turkish service, and craving to  be admitted.
News had been sent at once to D'Aubusson, who despatched two of
the senior knights, with  orders to admit him and receive him with
all honour. This had been done, and the grand master, with some  of
his council, were now closeted with the newcomer. Several of the
knights were gathered in the  courtyard, discussing the event.
There was no question that if the renegade came in good faith, his
defection would be a serious blow to the assailants, and that his
well known skill and experience would  greatly benefit the defenders.

"For my part," Sir John Boswell, who formed one of the detachment
which the English langue, as well as  all the others, contributed
to form the garrison of the palace said, "I would have hung the
fellow up by the  neck over the gateway, and he should never have
set foot within the walls.  Think you that a man who has  denied
his faith and taken service with his enemies is to be trusted,
whatever oaths he may take?"

"You must remember, Boswell," another said, "that hitherto Georges
has not fought against Christians, but  has served Mahomet in his
wars with other infidels. I am not saying a word in defence of his
having  become a renegade; yet even a renegade may have some sort
of heart, and now that he has been called upon  to fight against
Christians he may well have repented of his faults, and determined
to sacrifice his position  and prospects rather than aid in the
attack on the city."

"We shall see. As for me, I regard a renegade as the most contemptible
of wretches, and have no belief that  they have either a heart or
conscience."

When Maitre Georges came out from the palace, laughing and talking
with the two knights who had  entered with him, it was evident
that he was well pleased with his reception by the grand master,
who had  assigned to him a suite of apartments in the guest house.
In reality, however, D'Aubusson had no doubt that  his object was
a treacherous one, and that, like Demetrius, who had come under
the pretence of bringing  about a truce, his object was to find out
the weak points and to supply the Turks with information. Georges
had, in his conversation with him, laid great stress on the strength
of the Turkish army, the excellent quality  of the troops, and the
enormous battering train that had been prepared. But every word he
spoke but added  to the grand master's suspicions; for if the man
considered that the capture of the city was morally certain, it
would be simply throwing away his life to enter it as a deserter.

The grand master was, however, too politic to betray any doubt of
Georges' sincerity. Were he treated as a  traitor, Paleologus might
find another agent to do the work. It was, therefore, better to
feign a belief in his  story, to obtain all the information possible
from him, and at the same time to prevent his gaining any  knowledge
of affairs that would be of the slightest use to the Turks.
Instructions were therefore given to the  two knights that, while
Georges was to be treated with all courtesy, he was to be strictly
watched, though in  such a manner that he should be in ignorance
of it, and that, whenever he turned his steps in the direction of
those parts of the defences where fresh works had been recently
added and preparations made of which it  was desirable the Turks
should be kept in ignorance, he was to be met, as if by accident,
by one of the  knights told off for the purpose, and his steps
diverted in another direction.

Georges soon made himself popular among many of the knights, who had
no suspicions of his real  character.  He was a man of exceptional
figure, tall, strong, splendidly proportioned, with a handsome
face  and gallant bearing.  He was extremely well informed on all
subjects, had travelled widely, had seen many  adventures, was full
of anecdote, and among the younger knights, therefore, he was soon
regarded as a  charming companion. His very popularity among them
aided D'Aubusson's plans, as Georges was generally  the centre of
a group of listeners, and so had but few opportunities of getting
away quietly to obtain the  information he sought. Gervaise delivered
his report to the grand master.

"I am free now," D'Aubusson said, "and will accompany you to St.
Nicholas. I have been detained by the  coming of this man Georges.
He is a clever knave, and, I doubt not, has come as a spy. However,
I have  taken measures that he shall learn nothing that can harm
us. No lives have been lost at the tower, I hope?"

"No, sir; Caretto has forbidden any to show themselves on the
walls."

"He has done well. This is no time for rash exposure, and where
there is naught to be gained, it is a grave  fault to run risks."

On arriving at the end of the mole, D'Aubusson, accompanied by
Caretto, made an investigation of the  effect of the Turks' fire.

"'Tis worse than I expected," he said. "When we laid out our
fortifications the thought that such guns as  these would be used
against them never entered our minds.  Against ordinary artillery
the walls would  stand a long battering; but it is clear that we
shall have to depend more upon our swords than upon our  walls for
our defence.  Fortunately, although the Turks have indeed chosen
the spot where our walls are  most open to the assaults of their
battery, they have to cross the water to attack the breach when it
is made,  and will have to fight under heavy disadvantage."

"Tresham was last night saying to me, that it seemed to him it
would not be a difficult matter for one who  spoke Turkish well,
to issue at night on the other side of the town, and to make his
way round to the  battery, disguised of course as a Turkish soldier,
and then, mixing with the artillery men, to drive a spike  into
one of the touch holes.  He said that he would gladly volunteer
for the task."

D'Aubusson shook his head decidedly. "It would be too dangerous;
and even were a spike driven in, the  Turks would have no great
difficulty in extracting it, for the tubes are so big that a man
might crawl in and  drive the spike up from the inside. Moreover,
could one or more of the guns be disabled permanently,  others would
be brought down and set in their place, so that nothing would be
gained but a very short  delay, which would be of no advantage to
us, and certainly would in no way justify the risking of the life
of  so distinguished a young knight."

The bombardment of St. Nicholas continued for some days. A breach
was fast forming in the wall, and a  slope composed of the fallen
rubbish extended from the front of the breach to the water's edge.
The grand  master was frequently on the spot, and as this was at
present the sole object of attack, the garrison was  strengthened
by as many knights as could be sheltered within its walls. At night
the shattered masonry that  had fallen inside was carried out, and
with it a new work thrown up across the mole, to strengthen the
defence on that side, should the enemy land between the town and
the fort. Small batteries were planted  wherever they could sweep
the approaches to the breach, and planks studded with nails were
sunk in the  shallow water of the harbour, to impede the progress
of those who might attempt to swim or wade across.  For the time,
therefore, the functions of Gervaise were in abeyance, and he
laboured with the rest of the  garrison at the defences.

At daybreak on the 9th of June, a great number of vessels and
boats, crowded with soldiers, bore down on  St.  Nicholas. As they
approached, every gun on the fortifications that could be brought
to bear upon them  opened fire; but in a dense mass they advanced.
Some made their way to the rocks and landed the soldiers  there;
others got alongside the mole; but the majority grounded in the
shallow water of the harbour, and the  troops, leaping out, waded
to the foot of the breach. On its crest D'Aubusson himself had
taken up his  station. Beside him stood Caretto, and around them
the most distinguished knights of the Order. With wild  shouts
the Turks rushed up the breach, and swarmed thickly up the ruined
masonry until, at its summit, they  encountered the steel clad
line of the defenders. For hours the terrible struggle continued.
As fast as the  head of the Turkish column broke and melted
away against the obstacle they tried in vain to penetrate, fresh
reinforcements took the place of those who had fallen, and in
point of valour and devotion the Moslem  showed himself a worthy
antagonist of the Christian. It was not only at the breach that
the conflict raged.  At other points the Turks, well provided with
ladders, fixed them against the walls, and desperately strove  to
obtain a footing there.  From the breach clouds of dust rose from
under the feet of the combatants,  mingling with the smoke of the
cannon on the ramparts, the fort, and Turkish ships, and at times
entirely  hid from the sight of the anxious spectators on the walls
of the town and fortress, and of the still more  numerous throng of
Turks on St. Stephen's Hill, the terrible struggle that continued
without a moment's  intermission.

The combatants now fought in comparative silence.  The knights,
exhausted and worn out by their long  efforts beneath the blazing
sun, still showed an unbroken front; but it was only occasionally
that the battle  cry of the Order rose in the air, as a fresh body
of assailants climbed up the corpse strewn breach. The yell  of
the Moslems rose less frequently; they sacrificed their lives as
freely and devotedly as those who led the  first onset had done;
but as the hours wore on, the assurance of victory died out, and a
doubt as to whether  it was possible to break through the line of
their terrible foes gained ground. D'Aubusson himself, although,  in
spite of the remonstrances of the knights, always in the thickest
of the fray, was yet ever watchful, and  quickly perceived where the
defenders were hotly pressed, and where support was most needed.
Gervaise  fought by his side, so that, when necessary, he could
carry his orders to a little body of knights, drawn up in  reserve,
and despatch them to any point where aid was needed.  The cannon
still continued their fire on  both sides. A fragment of one of
the stone balls from a basilisk struck off D'Aubusson's helmet.
He selected  another from among the fallen knights, and resumed
his place in the line. Still the contest showed no signs  of
terminating. The Turkish galleys ever brought up reinforcements,
while the defenders grew fewer, and  more exhausted. During a
momentary pause, while a fresh body of Turks were landing, Gervaise
said to the  grand master,

"If you will give me leave, sir, I will go out at the watergate,
swim up the inner harbour, and in a very short  time turn a few
of the craft lying there into fire ships, and tow them out with a
couple of galleys. At any  rate, we can fire all these craft that
have grounded, and create a panic among the others."

"Well thought of, Gervaise! I will write an order on one of my
tablets. Do you take my place for a minute."  Withdrawing behind
the line, the grand master sat down on a fragment of stone, and,
drawing a tablet from  a pouch in his girdle, he wrote on it, "In
all things carry out the instructions of Sir Gervaise Tresham:  he
is  acting by my orders and authority, and has full power in all
respects."

He handed the slip of parchment to Gervaise, who hurried to the
water gate in the inner harbour, threw off  his helmet and armour,
issued out at the gate, and plunged into the sea. He swam out some
distance, in  order to avoid the missiles of the Turks, who were
trying to scale the wall from the mole, and then directed  his
course to St. Michael's, which guarded the inner entrance to the
fort. He had fastened the parchment in  his hair, and as some of the
garrison of the tower, noticing his approach, came down to assist
him, he  handed it to them and was at once taken to the commander
of St. Michael, answering as he went the  anxious questions as to
how matters stood at the breach.

"Aid is sorely needed. The Turks have gained no foot of ground as
yet, but many of the knights are killed  and most of the others
utterly exhausted with heat and labour.  Unless aid reaches them
speedily, the tower,  with all its defenders, will be lost."

The instant the commander knew what was required, he bade six of the
knights embark with Gervaise in a  boat moored behind the tower,
and row up the harbour to the spot where the shipping was all massed
together, protected by the high ground of the fortress from the
Turkish fire.  Gervaise waved his hand, as he  neared the end of
the harbour, to the officer on the walls, and while the six knights
who were with him ran  off to tell the master of the galleys to
prepare two of them to leave the port instantly, Gervaise explained
to  the officer in charge of the wall at that point the plan that
he was charged to carry out, and asked for twenty  knights to assist
him.

"It will leave us very weak along here," the officer said.  "Then
let me have ten, and send for another ten  from other parts of the
wall. Here is the grand master's order, giving me full power and
authority, and it is  all important that no single moment shall be
wasted."

"You shall have twenty of mine," the officer said, "and I will draw
ten from the langue next to us to fill  their places."

In a few minutes the quay was a scene of bustle and activity.
Gervaise picked out ten of the smallest  vessels; the knights went
among the other ships, seized all goods and stores that would be
useful as  combustibles, and compelled the crews to carry them on
board the craft chosen as fire ships. Then barrels  were broken
open, old sails and faggots saturated with oil and pitch, and in
little more than a quarter of an  hour after his arrival, Gervaise
had the satisfaction of seeing that the ten boats were all filled
with  combustibles, and ready to be set on fire. He now called for
volunteers from the sailors, and a number of  them at once came
forward, including many of the captains. He placed one of these in
command of each  fire ship, and gave him four of the sailors.

"The galleys will tow you out," he said, "and take you close to the
enemy's ships. We shall range you five  abreast, and when I give
the word, the one at the end of the line will steer for the nearest
Turk, and, with  oars and poles, get alongside. The captain will
then light the train of powder in the hold, throw the torch  among
the straw, and see that, if possible, the men fasten her to the
Turk; but if this cannot be done, it is not  essential, for in the
confusion the enemy will not be able to get out of the way of the
fire ship as it drives  down against her. At the last moment you
will take to your boats and row back here. We will protect you
from the assaults of any of the Turkish ships."

Having made sure that all the captains understood the orders,
Gervaise took command of one of the galleys,  the senior knight
going on board the other. The ten fire ships were now poled out until
five were ranged  abreast behind each craft; Gervaise requested the
commander of the other galley to lie off the point of St.  Nicholas
until he had got rid of his five fire ships, then to advance and
launch his craft against the Turks.  The smoke of the guns lay
so heavy on the water, and the combatants were so intent upon the
struggle at  the breach, that Gervaise steered his galley into the
midst of the Turkish vessels laden with troops ready to  disembark,
without attracting any notice; then, standing upon the taffrail,
he signalled to the two outside  boats to throw off their ropes
and make for the Turkish ship nearest to them. This they did, and
it was not  until a sheet of flame rose alongside, that the enemy
awoke to the sense of danger.

The other three fire ships were almost immediately cast off. Two
of them were equally successful, but the  Turks managed to thrust
off the third. She drifted, however, through the shipping, and
presently brought up  alongside one of the vessels fast aground.
With but ten knights, Gervaise could not attack one of the larger
vessels, crowded with troops; but there were many fishing boats
that had been pressed into the service, and  against one of these
Gervaise ordered the men to steer the galley. A shout to the rowers
made them  redouble their efforts. A yell of dismay arose from
the Turkish troops as they saw the galley bearing down  upon them,
and frantic efforts were made to row out of her way. These were in
vain, for her sharp prow  struck them amidships, cutting the boat
almost in two, and she sank like a stone, the galley, without a
pause, making for another boat.

Looking back, Gervaise saw that his consort was already in the
midst of the Turks, among whom the  wildest confusion prevailed,
each ship trying to extricate herself from the mass, upon which
the batteries of  the fortress now concentrated their efforts. Two
fresh columns of flame had already shot up, and satisfied  that
all was going well, Gervaise continued his attack upon the smaller
craft, six of whom were overtaken  and sunk. Three or four of the
larger vessels endeavoured to lay themselves alongside the galley,
but her  speed was so superior to theirs that she easily evaded
the attempts, and, sweeping round, rejoined the other  galley which
had just issued from among the Turks, who were already in full
retreat. The defenders of St.  Nicholas, reanimated by the sight
of the discomfiture of the Turkish fleet, with a loud shout rushed
down  from the spot which they had held for so many hours, drove
their assailants before them, and flung  themselves upon the crowd
assembled at the foot of the breach.

These had already suffered terribly from the fire of the batteries.
Again and again they had striven to storm  the mound of rubbish,
and had each time been repulsed, with the loss of their bravest
leaders. Seeing  themselves abandoned by the ships, a panic seized
them, and as the knights rushed down upon them they  relinquished
all thoughts of resistance, and dashed into the shallow water.
Many were drowned in the  attempt to swim across the deep channel
in the middle, some succeeded, while others made their escape in
the boats in which they had been brought ashore from the ships.

The struggle was over. The two galleys made for the breach, and
the knights leapt out as soon as the boats  grounded, and, wading
ashore, joined the group that had so long and gallantly sustained
the unequal fight.  Fatigue, exhaustion, and wounds, were forgotten
in the triumph of the moment, and they crowded round the  grand
master and Caretto, to whose joint exertions the success of the
defence was so largely due.

"Do not thank me, comrades," D'Aubusson said. "No man has today
fought better than the rest. Every  knight has shown himself worthy
of the fame of our Order. The meed of praise for our success is
first due  to Sir Gervaise Tresham. At the moment when I began to
doubt whether we could much longer withstand  the swarms of fresh
foes who continued to pour against us, while we were overcome by
heat and labour, Sir  Gervaise, who had throughout been fighting
at my side, offered to swim into the port, to fit out a dozen of
the merchant craft there as fire ships, and to tow them round into
the midst of the Turkish vessels behind  the two galleys that were
lying ready for service. I remembered how he had before destroyed
the corsair  fleet at Sardinia with fire ships, and the proposal
seemed to me as an inspiration sent from Heaven, at this  moment
of our great peril. I wrote him an order, giving him full authority
to act in my name, and in a time  that seemed to me incredibly
short I saw him round the point with the fire ships in tow. You
saw, as well as  I did, how completely the plan was carried out. Ten
or twelve of the Turkish ships are a mass of flames,  and besides
these I noted that the galley ran down and destroyed several smaller
craft filled with soldiers.  The panic in the ships spread to the
troops on shore, and rendered the last part of our task an easy
one. I say  it from my heart that I consider it is to Sir Gervaise
Tresham that we owe our success, and that, had it not  been for
his happy thought, the sun would have gone down on our dead bodies
lying on the summit of the  breach, and on the Turkish flag waving
over the fort of St. Nicholas."

Until now none of the defenders of the breach had known how what
seemed to them an almost miraculous  change in the fortune of the
fight had come about, and they thronged round Gervaise, shaking
his hand, and  many of them warmly embracing him, according to the
custom of the time.

"It was but natural that the idea should occur to me," he said,
"having before successfully encountered them  with fire ships; and
as all on shore, and especially these knights, aided me with all
their power, it took but a  brief time to get the boats in readiness
for burning. Much credit, too, is due to the merchant captains
and  sailors who volunteered to take charge of the fire ships and
to manoeuver them alongside the Turks."

The grand master and the knights who had borne the brunt of the
battle now retired along the mole to the  town, bearing with them
their most seriously wounded comrades, and assisting those whose
wounds were  less severe. The twenty knights who had manned the two
galleys remained in the fort. Caretto continued in  command, as,
although he had suffered several wounds, he refused to relinquish
his post. Gervaise, who  had, -- thanks partly to his skill with
his weapons, but still more to the temper of the splendid suit of
armour  presented to him by Genoa, -- escaped without a scratch,
volunteered to remain with him until next  morning, his principal
motive for making the request being his desire to escape from
further  congratulations and praise for the success of his plan.
After Caretto's wounds had been dressed by the  knights, and he
and Gervaise had partaken of some food and wine, which they greatly
needed, Caretto was  persuaded to lie down for a time, the knights
promising to bring him word at once if they perceived any  movement
whatever on the part of the enemy. Gervaise remained with him,
feeling, now the excitement  was over, that he sorely needed rest
after his exertions in the full heat of the summer sun.

"It has been a great day, Gervaise," Caretto said, "and I only hope
that when again I go into battle with the  infidel, I shall have
you at hand to come forward at the critical moment with some master
stroke to secure  victory. Claudia will be pleased indeed when she
hears how the knight who bears her gage has again  distinguished
himself. She will look on the gay and idle young fops of Genoa
with greater disdain than  ever. Now you need not say anything in
protest, the more so as I feel grievously weak, and disposed for
sleep."



CHAPTER XXII THE STRUGGLE AT THE BREACH


Two hours later Caretto and Gervaise were roused by the arrival of
a hundred knights in place of the  previous garrison; these bore
the news that the pasha had sent in a flag of truce to ask for an
armistice until  sundown, to enable him to carry off for burial
the bodies of those who had fallen in the attack. The request  had
been willingly granted; but D'Aubusson had at the same time thought
it well to send down a strong  reinforcement to the garrison to
prevent any attempt at treachery on the part of the Turks.

"I have seldom heard pleasanter news," Caretto said; "for just as
I fell asleep I was wondering how we were  to rid ourselves of the
corpses of the infidels. By tomorrow the place would have become
unbearable; and  though, living, the Turks could not turn us out
of the tower, they would when dead speedily have rid the  place of
us."

In half an hour a number of Moslem vessels were seen approaching.
Caretto did not wish the Turks to  imagine that he doubted their
good faith, and while directing the main body of knights to remain
in  concealment near the breach, he placed two on sentry duty on
the crest of the ruins, and, with four other  knights and Gervaise,
went down in complete armour to salute the officer in command of
the burying party,  as he landed from the boats. The ships anchored
a short distance out, and a number of boats rowed from  them to
the shore. As the Turkish officer landed, Caretto saluted him, and
said in Arabic,

"I give you courteous greeting, Sir. When the cannon cease to sound
and swords are sheathed, there is no  longer animosity between brave
men; and no braver than those whose bodies lie stretched there,
breathed  the air of heaven.  If, sir, I and the knights with me
do not uncover our heads, it is from no want of respect  for the
dead, but solely because we dare not stand bareheaded under the
fierce rays of the sun."

The Turk answered with equal courtesy, complimenting the knights
on their defence.

"Had I not seen it with my own eyes," he said, "I should have deemed
it altogether impossible that so small  a number of men could thus
for hours have withstood the attacks of some of the best of the
sultan's troops.  Tales have come down to us from our fathers of
the marvellous prowess of the knights of your Order, and  how at
Smyrna, at Acre, and elsewhere, they performed such feats of valour
that their name is still used by  Turkish mothers as a bugbear to
frighten their children. But the stories have always seemed to me
incredible; now I perceive they were true, and that the present
members of the Order in no way fall short of  the valour of their
predecessors."

The knights remained with the Turkish commander and some of his
officers while the work of collecting  and carrying away the dead
was performed, the conversation on their side being supported
by Caretto and  Gervaise. No less than seven hundred bodies were
carried down to the boats, besides a great many  wounded by the
artillery fire.  None were, however, found breathing among the
great pile of dead at the  upper part of the breach, for the axes
and double handed swords of the knights had, in most of the cases,
cleft through turban and skull.

"This represents but part of our loss," the Turkish commander said
sadly, as the last party came down with  their burdens to the boats.
"At least as many more must have perished in the sea, either in
their endeavours  to escape when all was lost, in the destruction
of their vessels by fire, by the shot from your batteries, or by
being run down by your galleys. Ah, Sir Knight, if it had not been
for the appearance of your fire ships,  methinks the matter might
have ended differently."

"In that I altogether agree with you," Caretto said. "We were
indeed, well nigh spent, and must have soon  succumbed had it not
been that the fire ships arrived to our rescue. You have a fair
right to claim that the  victory would have remained in your hands,
had not those craft gone out and snatched it from you."

Then, with salutes on both sides, the Turks took their places in the
boats, and the knights returned to the  fort.  As soon as darkness
came on, a large body of slaves were marched down from the town,
and, under  the direction of the knights, laboured all night at the
mound, removing great quantities of the fallen stones  and rubbish
in a line halfway up it, and piling them above so as to form a
scarp across the mound that  would need ladders to ascend. Another
party worked at the top of the mound, and there built up a wall
eight  feet high. The work was completed by daylight, and the
knights felt that they were now in a position to  resist another
attack, should Paleologus again send his troops to the assault.

The night had passed quietly. There was a sound of stir and movement
in the Turkish battery, but nothing  that would excite the suspicion
of a large body of troops being in motion. When it became light
it was seen  that the Turkish ships had sailed away to their
previous anchorage on the other side of the Island, and  although
at considerable intervals the great cannon hurled their missiles
against the fort, it was evident that,  for the time at least, the
attack was not to be pressed at that point. A fresh body of slaves,
however, came  down from the town to relieve those who had been
all night at work, and the repair of the defences was  continued,
and with greater neatness and method than had been possible in the
darkness.

At eight o'clock the bells of St. John's Church gave notice that
a solemn service of thanksgiving for the  repulse of the enemy was
about to be held. Notice had been sent down early to the tower; and
all the  knights who could be spared, without too greatly weakening
the garrison, went up to attend it; the service  was conducted with
all the pomp and ceremony possible, and after it was over a great
procession was  formed to proceed to the shrine, where a picture
of the Virgin held in special reverence by the Order was  placed.

As it wound through the streets in splendid array, the grand master
and officials in all their robes of state,  the knights in full
armour and the mantles of the Order, while the inhabitants in gala
costume lined the  streets, windows, and housetops, the ladies waving
scarves and scattering flowers down on the knights, the  roar of
great cannon on the south side of the city showed that the Turks
had commenced the attack in  another quarter. Without pausing, the
procession continued its way, and it was not until the service in
the  chapel had been concluded that any steps were taken to ascertain
the direction of the attack. As soon as it  was over, the knights
hastened to the walls. During the night the Turks had transported
their great basilisks,  with other large pieces of artillery, from
the camp to the rising ground on the south side of the city, and
had  opened fire against the wall covering the Jews' quarter, and
at the same time against the tower of St. Mary  on the one hand
and the Italian tower on the other.

From other commanding spots huge mortars were hurling great fragments
of rock and other missiles  broadcast into the town. The portion
of the wall selected for the attack showed that the Turks had been
well  informed by their spies of the weak points of the defence. The
wall behind which the Jews' quarter lay, was,  to all appearance, of
thick and solid masonry; but this was really of great age, having
formed part of the  original defences of the town, before the
Order had established itself there. The masonry, therefore, was ill
fitted to resist the huge balls hurled against it by the basilisks.
The langue of Provence was in charge of this  part of the wall,
and, leaving them for the present to bear the brunt of the storm,
the grand master sent the  knights who could be spared, to assist
the inhabitants to erect shelters against the storm of missiles
falling  in the town.

Sheds with sharply sloping roofs, constructed of solid timber,
were built against the inner side of the walls,  and beneath these
numbers of the inhabitants found refuge. The work was performed with
great celerity by  the inhabitants, aided by the gangs of slaves,
and in two or three days the townspeople were all in shelter,
either in these sheds, in the vaults of the churches, or in other
strongly constructed buildings.

Among the missiles hurled into the town were balls filled with Greek
fire, but the houses being entirely  built of stone, no conflagrations
of importance were caused by them, as a band of knights was organised
specially to watch for these bombs, and whenever one of them was
seen to fall, they hurried from their  lookout to the spot, with
a gang of slaves carrying baskets of earth and buckets of water,
and quenched the  flames before they had made any great headway.

The roar of the bombardment was almost continuous, and was heard
at islands distant from Rhodes, telling  the inhabitants how the
battle between the Christians and the Moslems was raging.

It was not long before the wall in the front of the Jews' quarter
began to crumble, and it was soon evident  that it must, ere many
days, succumb to the storm of missiles hurled against it. D'Aubusson
lost no time in  making preparations to avert the danger. He
ordered all the houses in rear of the wall to be levelled; a deep
semicircular ditch was then dug, and behind this a new wall,
constructed of the stones and bricks from the  houses destroyed,
was built, and backed with an earthen rampart of great thickness
and solidity.

The work was carried on with extraordinary rapidity.  The grand
master himself set the example, and,  throwing aside his robes and
armour, laboured with pick and shovel like the commonest labourer.
This  excited the people to the highest pitch of enthusiasm, and
all classes threw themselves into the task.  Knights and slaves,
men, women, and children, and even the inmates of the convents
and nunneries, aided  in the work, and when at last the outer wall
fell, and the Turks thought that success was at hand, the pasha
saw with astonishment and dismay that entry to the city was still
barred by a work as formidable as that  which he had destroyed
at an enormous expenditure of ammunition. There was now a short
breathing time  for the besieged; but the depression which the failure
of their efforts excited among the Turks, was shortly  dispelled
by the arrival of a ship, with a despatch from Constantinople, in
which the pasha was informed  that the sultan himself was about to
proceed to Rhodes with a reinforcement of a hundred thousand men,
and a fresh park of artillery.

Paleologus had some doubts as to whether the report was true or
was merely intended to stimulate him to  new efforts for the speedy
capture of the place. Knowing well that the grand master was the
heart and soul  of the defence, and that the failure of the assault
was mainly due to his energy and ability, he determined to  resort
to the weapon so frequently in use in Eastern warfare -- that of
assassination.  To this end he  employed two men, one a Dalmatian,
the other an Albanian; these presented themselves before the walls
as  deserters, and as there was no reason for suspecting their tale,
they were admitted within the gates, and  welcomed as having escaped
from enforced service. They soon spread the tale of the speedy
coming of the  sultan with vast reinforcements, and as the pasha
had on the previous day caused salutes to be fired, and  other
demonstrations to be made, the news was readily credited, and caused
the greatest dismay among the  defenders.

Some of the knights of the Italian and Spanish langues believed
the prospect of a successful defence against  so enormous a force
was absolutely hopeless, and determined to put pressure upon
D'Aubusson to treat for  surrender before it became too late. They
opened negotiations with an Italian named Filelfo, one of  D'Aubusson's
secretaries, who undertook to lay their opinion before the grand
master.  D'Aubusson at once  summoned the knights concerned in
the matter before him. They found him with several members of the
council.

"Sir Knights," he said, "I have heard from my secretary your
opinions in the matter of a surrender, and  since you are in such
terror of the Moslem sultan, you have my full permission to leave
the town; and, more  than that, I will myself secure your safe
departure, which might be imperilled if your comrades or even
the  inhabitants of the town came to learn that you had advocated
surrender; but," he went on, changing his tone  from that of sarcasm
to sternness, "if you remain with us, see that the word surrender
never again passes  your lips, and be assured that, should you
continue your intrigues, in that direction, you shall meet with
the  fate you so justly deserve."

Overwhelmed by the grand master's accusation and sternness, the Italian
and Spanish knights threw  themselves on their knees and implored
him to grant them an early opportunity of retrieving their fault by
battle with the infidel. Feeling that the lesson had been sufficiently
severe, and that henceforth there would  be no renewal of intrigues
for a surrender, D'Aubusson forgave them, and promised them a place
in the van  when next the Moslems attacked.  The incident was not
without its advantage, for the two pretended  deserters, believing
that Filelfo, who had also fallen under the displeasure of the
grand master, would be  ready to join in the conspiracy against
his life, approached him. Filelfo, who was greatly attached to
D'Aubusson, saw by their manner that they wished to engage him
in some intrigue, and, feigning great  resentment and anger at
his disgrace, led them on until they divulged the entire plot for
D'Aubusson's  assassination, and made brilliant offers to him if
he would afford them facilities for carrying it out,  producing, in
proof of their power to do so, a letter of the pasha, authorising
them to make such promises in  his name.

Filelfo at once divulged the whole plot to D'Aubusson.  The two men
were immediately arrested, tried by  the council, and sentenced to
death. They were not, however, formally executed, for the populace,
obtaining news of their treachery, broke in upon their guards,
and tore them to pieces. Foiled in his attempt  on the life of the
grand master, the pasha prepared for a renewal of the attack, and
it was not long before the  knights on the lookout at the church
of St. John perceived that the fort of St. Nicholas was again to be
the  scene of the attack. It was ere long discovered that a large
number of men were busy some distance along  the shore in building
a long structure, that could only be intended for a floating bridge.
Among the sailors  who had aided in the attack with the fire ships
were several men belonging to an English trader in the port.  All
who had done so had been handsomely rewarded for their conduct, and
five of the Englishmen had  afterwards gone to the English auberge
and had asked to be enrolled for service against the Turks, as
they  were weary of remaining on board in idleness when there was
work to be done. Their offer had been  accepted, and they had, in
common with all the sailors in the port, laboured at the construction
of the inner  wall. When that was completed, Sir John Boswell,
under whose special charge they had been placed, said  to Gervaise,
"I think that I cannot do better than send these men down to St.
Nicholas. It is probable that  now the Turks see that they can do
nothing at the new breach, they may try again there. Sailors are
accustomed to night watches, and there are many of our knights who
are not used to such work, and can be  better trusted to defend a
breach than to keep a vigilant watch at night. Will you take these
men down to  Caretto, and tell him that he can sleep soundly if
he has a couple of them on watch? One of them, Roger  Jervis, who
is the mate of their ship, can speak some Italian, and as he is
in command of them, Caretto will  find no trouble in making them
understand him."

St. Nicholas had now been put into a fair state of defence, as a
party had been kept steadily at work there.   Gervaise had not been
to the tower since the morning after the assault, and saw with
satisfaction how much  had been done to render it secure. He found
that Caretto was fast recovering from his wounds.

"As it seems probable, Sir Fabricius," he said, after the first
greetings to the knight, "that the Turks will  favour you with another
visit, I have brought you five watchdogs.  They are countrymen of
mine, and were  among those who navigated the fire ships the other
day. Sir John Boswell has sent them down; they are, of  course,
accustomed to keep watch at night. One of them is mate of their
vessel, and will be in command of  them; he speaks a little Italian,
and so will understand any orders you may give him. I have been
speaking  to him as we came down; he will divide his men into two
watches, and will himself be on guard all night.   Will you assign
them some quiet place where they can sleep in the daytime? They
can erect a shelter with a  piece of sail cloth and a few bits of
board, and they will, of course, be furnished with food."

"I shall be very glad to have them, for I am always restless at
night, lest those on watch should close their  eyes.  You see, they
have quite made up their minds that this fort will not be attacked
again, and so are less  inclined to be vigilant than they would
be, did they think that an attack was impending."

Now that there was reason to believe that St. Nicholas might again
be attacked, Gervaise was frequently  there with orders or inquiries
from the grand master. A number of vessels in the harbour were
fitted up as  fire ships, so as to be in readiness when the attack
came. He was about to start early one morning when he  saw Roger
Jervis coming up with a heavy anchor on his shoulder.

"Why, what are you bringing that up here for?" he asked. "Have you
been diving; for I see your clothes are  dripping with water?"

"Ay, ay, sir, I have been in the water, and that Italian commander
told me to come straight up here to tell  the grand master all about
the story; and right glad am I to have met you, for I should have
made but a poor  fist of it alone; I don't know more of their lingo
than just to talk a few words of it."

"Then you had better tell me the story before I take you in."

"Well, it was like this, Sir Knight: I had Hudson and Jeffreys
posted upon the wall, and I thought I would  take a turn down on
the rocks, for it was a dark night, and you can see much farther
when you are by the  edge of the water than you can when you are
at the masthead. I sat there for an hour, and was thinking that  it
was about time to go up and turn out the other watch, when I saw
something dark upon the water. It  wasn't a ship, that was certain,
and if it was a boat there wasn't any one in it; but it was too dark
to make  quite sure what it was. I watched it for a time, though I
did not think much of the thing, taking it for a boat  that had got
adrift, or maybe a barrel from one of the Turkish ships. Presently
I made out that it was a good  bit nearer than when I first saw
it.

"That puzzled me. There is no tide to speak of in these seas, and
there was no wind moving about. I could  make out now that it was
a boat, though a very small one, but certainly there was no one
rowing it. It  looked a very strange craft, and as I saw by the
way it was bearing that it would come ashore about five or  six
fathoms from where I was sitting, I slid quietly off the rock, put
my sword down by me handy for  action, and waited. Presently the
boat came up alongside the rock, and a fellow stood up from behind
the  stern. I was glad to see him, for I had begun to think that
there was witchcraft in the thing moving along by  itself, but I
can tell you I was savage with myself for not having guessed there
was a man swimming behind  and pushing it on.


"He stooped over the boat, and took something heavy out; then
he felt about among the rocks under the  water, and then laid the
thing down there, and seemed to me to be settling it firm. I had
half a mind to jump  up and let fly at him, but then I thought
it would be better to let him finish what he was doing, and go off
with the idea that no one had seen him. So I kept hid until he
started again. He waded a short way before he  had to swim, and I
could see that as he went he was paying out a rope over the stern.
It was clear enough  now what he had been up to: he had been fixing
an anchor. What he did it for, or what use it could be to  him, I
could not say, but it was certain that he would not take all that
trouble, with the chance of being  knocked on the head, for nothing;
so I waited for a bit till he had got out of sight, and over to
the other side  of the port.

"Then I got up and felt about, and, chancing to get my foot under
the rope, went right over into the water.  After that you may guess
I was not long in finding the anchor. I unknotted the rope from
it and carried it  ashore; then it struck me that the Turks might
take it into their heads to give a pull on it in the morning, and
if they did; they would find out that their game, whatever it was,
had been found out; so I got hold of a  stone of about twenty pound
weight, and fastened the rope's end round it. That was enough to
prevent the  rope getting slack and make them think that it was
still fast to the anchor; but, of course, if they pulled hard  on
it it would come home directly. I went and reported the matter the
first thing this morning to the  governor. He seemed to think that
it was important, and told me to bring the anchor up to the grand
master,  who would get one of the English knights to find out all
about it; for he could not make out much of what I  said."

"It is very important," Gervaise said, "and you behaved very wisely
in the matter, and have rendered a great  service by your discovery.
I will take you in at once to the grand master."

Still bearing the anchor, the sailor followed Gervaise into an
apartment where D'Aubusson was taking  council with some of the
senior knights.

"Pardon my interrupting your Highness," Gervaise said; "but
the matter is so important that I knew you  would listen to it,
however occupied you were." And he then repeated the narrative of
the sailor's discovery.

"This is indeed of the highest importance," D'Aubusson said, "and
the knowledge that it gives us may  enable us to defeat an attempt,
that might otherwise have proved our ruin. You see, knights, it
solves the  question that we were just discussing. We agreed that
this long floating bridge that they have been  constructing, was
intended to enable them to cross the outer port and again attack
St. Nicholas; and yet it  seemed to us that even by night our
batteries would be able to keep up such a fire on the boats, towing
the  head of the bridge across, as to render it well nigh impossible
for them to get it over. Now you see what  their plan is. With the
aid of this rope, the end of which they think is firmly fixed on
our side, they mean to  haul the bridge across, and that so silently
that they hope to be upon us almost before we have time to don
our armour. We shall now be fully prepared, and need have no fear
of the result."

There could now be little doubt that the attack would be made
without loss of time, especially as the Turks  believed that they
could get their bridge across unseen. The fire ships -- which were
altogether more  formidable than those Gervaise had improvised --
were ordered to be made ready for action. This being  arranged,
the admiral left the council at once, that no time should be lost
in getting them in readiness.  D'Aubusson then turned to the English
sailor.

"You have rendered us a great service indeed by your vigilance, and
showed great prudence by allowing  the Turk to believe that he had
accomplished his mission unsuspected. Had he thought he had been
observed, some other plan would have been adopted. For so great a
service it is meet that a great reward  should be given."

He then took a bag from the hands of one of his secretaries, whom
he had sent to fetch it, while they were  discussing the matter of
the fire ships.

"Here are two hundred golden crowns," he added, handing the bag
to the seaman. "With these you can  either settle on shore, or can
build a stout ship and pursue your calling. Should you do so, call
her the St.  Nicholas, in remembrance of the gratitude of the Order
of St. John for your having saved that fort from the  Turks."

Astonished and delighted at the reward, which represented a very
large sum in those days, the sailor  stammered his thanks, and
added, "I hope tonight that if I again have charge of a fire ship,
I may be able to  do more to prove to your Highness how grateful
I am for the gift."

Throughout the day preparations for the defence of St. Nicholas
went on unceasingly. Gangs of men, as  usual, worked in the breach;
but, as it was deemed advisable that there should be no outward
show of  activity that would lead the Turks to suspect that their
design had been discovered, neither reinforcements  of men nor
munitions were sent along the mole; everything being taken out by
boats, which, rowing closely  along under the wall, were hidden from
the view of the Turks. Barrels of Greek fire and pitch, cauldrons
for  heating the latter, a store of firewood, great balls of cotton
steeped in oil and turpentine, sheaves of darts,  spikes on short
staves, that were, after darkness fell, to be thrust in among the
fallen masonry to form a  chevaux-de-frise -- these, and all other
matters that the ingenuity of the defenders could suggest, were
landed at the water gate of the fort, while the garrison was
strengthened by the addition of a large number  of knights.  Stores
of ammunition were collected in readiness at all the batteries that
commanded the mouth  of the outer port, and by sunset D'Aubusson
felt that everything that was possible had been done to meet  the
impending storm.

At midnight the Turkish preparations were complete.  The attack
by the bridge was to be assisted by a large  number of boats and
other craft, and many armed galleys were also brought up to destroy
or tow away the  defenders' fire ships.  Paleologus himself was down
by the shore directing the preparations. Some of his  best troops
were placed upon the floating bridge, and, when all was ready, the
order was given to pull upon  the rope. No sooner, however, did
the strain come upon it than there was a jerk, the rope slackened,
and it  was at once evident that the anchor had been discovered and
the well laid plan disconcerted.  Paleologus  was furious, but,
believing that the attack he had arranged would still be irresistible,
he ordered a number of  boats to take the bridge in tow, while
a still larger force was to make a direct attack upon the breach.
The  movement was to be conducted as silently as possible until it
was discovered, and then a dash forward was  to be made.

It was two o'clock before the fresh arrangements were completed
and the boats put out. They had gone but  a short distance when
the anxious watchers in St. Nicholas learnt by the dull, confused
sound that came  across the water, that the attack was, in spite
of the failure of the plan to take the bridge silently across, to
be persevered in. A cannon was at once fired to give notice to the
other batteries to be in readiness, and as  soon as the dark mass
of boats was made out the guns of the fort opened a destructive
fire upon them, and a  moment later were seconded by those from
the fortress; these, however, were at present being fired almost
at random, as the Turkish boats could not be made out at that
distance. Now that all need for concealment  was at an end, the
Turkish war cry rose shrilly in the air, and the boatmen bent to
their oars. The great  cannon at St. Anthony's Church hurled their
tremendous missiles at the tower, seconded by the fire of a  number
of other pieces that had in the darkness been brought down almost
to the water's edge.

As before, the boats swept up to the foot of the breach, the Turks
leaped out, and, undismayed by the storm  of shot, climbed up
to the assault. The short ladders that they had brought with them
enabled them to  surmount the escarpments so laboriously made,
and with loud shouts of "Allah!" they flung themselves  upon the
defenders on the crest of the breach. Here they were met by a line
even more difficult to break  through than before. The knights
were ranged three deep; those in the front were armed with swords
and  battleaxes, while those in the other two lines thrust their
spears out between the swordsmen, covering them  with a hedge
of steel points. Others in the rear brought up buckets of blazing
pitch and Greek fire, and,  advancing through gaps left for the
purpose, hurled the buckets down into the struggling mass on the
slope.  There the fire not only carried death among the assailants,
but the lurid flames enabled the batteries to  direct their shot
with terrible effect upon the breach, the crowded boats at its foot,
and the bridge which  was, with immense labour, presently got into
position.

It was not long before fresh light was thrown upon the scene, as
the fire ships, issuing out from the inner  harbour, burst into
columns of flame, and, towed by boats, came into action. They
were convoyed by the  two galleys, each with a full complement of
knights, and these soon became engaged in a fierce fight with  the
Turkish vessels that bore down to arrest the course of the fire
ships. The scene was indeed a terrible  one, the roar of cannon,
the shouts of the combatants, the screams of the poor wretches
upon whom the  terrible Greek fire fell, the clash of arms and the
shouts and cries of the Turks as they pressed across the  bridge,
united in a din that thrilled with horror the spectators, both in
the city and on St. Stephen's Hill.

Several of the Turkish galleys, in their efforts to arrest the
approach of the fire ships towards the bridge,  became themselves
involved in the flames; but they were so far successful that when
daylight broke the  bridge was still intact and the combat at the
breach continued to rage with determination and fury on both  sides.
The Turks there were led by a brave young prince named Ibrahim, a
near relative of the sultan, with  whom he was a great favourite,
and he was ever in the front line of the assailants, his splendid
bravery  animating the soldiers to continue their efforts. As the
daylight broadened out, however, the light enabled  the Christian
gunners to aim with far greater accuracy than had before been
possible, and, concentrating  their fire upon the bridge, across
which reinforcements continued to press to the support of the
assailants,  they succeeded in sinking so many of the boats that
it was no longer passable.

Next they turned their fire upon the Turkish galleys, four of which
they sank. Shortly afterwards, a ball  struck the gallant young
leader of the Turks, who, although previously several times wounded,
had  continued to fight in the front line. He fell dead, and his
followers, disheartened by his fall and by the  destruction of the
bridge, at once abandoned their efforts, and rushed down to the
foot of the breach. The  terrible scene enacted at the repulse of
the previous attack was now repeated. The concentrated fire of the
guns of the defenders carried destruction into the crowded mass.
Some gained the boats that still remained  uninjured, and rowed
for the opposite shore; the greater number rushed into the water
and strove to recross  it either by swimming or by the aid of the
debris of the shattered boats. Their total loss was greater even
than that suffered by them in the first attack, between two and
three thousand being either killed or  drowned, among them a number
of their best officers. The amount of spoil, in the form of rich
jewels and  costly gold ornaments, found on the bodies of the dead
piled on the breach, was very great.

For three days after this terrible repulse the Turks were inactive,
the pasha remaining shut up in his tent,  refusing to see any one,
or to issue orders. At the end of that time he roused himself from
his stupor of grief  and disappointment, and, abandoning the idea
of any further attack upon the point that had cost him so  dearly,
he ordered the troops to move round and renew the attack upon the
wall in front of the Jews'  quarter, and commence the construction
of a battery on the edge of the great ditch facing the retrenchment
behind the breach before effected.  The knights of Italy and Spain
determined to seize the opportunity of  retrieving the disgrace
that had fallen upon them. At night they descended into the deep
cutting, carrying  across their ladders, and, silently mounting
the opposite side, rushed with loud shouts into the unfinished
battery. The Turks there, taken utterly by surprise, made but a
slight resistance; a few were immediately cut  down, and the rest
fled panic stricken.

The knights at once set the woodwork of the battery on fire, hurled
the guns down into the ditch, and then  returned triumphantly into
the town, the dashing feat completely reinstating them in the good
opinion of the  grand master and their comrades.

The incident showed the pasha that he must neglect no precautions,
and, accordingly, he commenced his  works at a distance from the
walls, and pushed his approaches regularly forward until he again
established  a battery on the site of that from which his troops
had been so unceremoniously ejected. While forming the  approaches,
the workmen had been constantly harassed by the fire from the
guns on the walls, suffering  considerable loss of life; but their
numerical superiority was so vast that the loss in no way affected
the  plans of the pasha.

As soon as the battery was completed, gangs of men, accustomed to
mining operations, set to work in its  rear to drive sloping passages
downwards, opening into the face of the great cutting, and through
these vast  quantities of earth and stones were poured, so as to
afford a passage across it, the depth being largely  diminished by
the great pile of rubbish that had already fallen from the breached
wall. This novel mode of  attack was altogether unexpected.  The
knights had regarded the fosse that had been cut at such an
enormous expenditure of labour as forming an altogether impassable
obstruction, and were dismayed at  seeing the progress made in
filling it up. D'Aubusson himself, full of resources as he was,
saw that the  defence was seriously threatened, unless some plan
of meeting this unexpected danger could be devised.

He consulted Maitre Georges; but the latter could make no suggestion;
his only advice being the erection of  a battery at a spot where
it was almost self evident that it could be of no utility whatever.
Other  circumstances combined to render the suspicions D'Aubusson
had entertained of the good faith of the  renegade almost a certainty.
Georges was seized, tried, and put to torture, and under this owned
that he had  been sent into the town for the purpose of betraying
it; and he was, the same day, hung in the great square.  His guilt
must always be considered as uncertain. There was no proof against
him, save his own confession;  and a confession extorted by torture
is of no value whatever.  There are certainly many good grounds
for  suspicion, but it is possible that Georges really repented
his apostacy, and acted in good faith in deserting  the standard
of Paleologus.  He was undoubtedly a man of altogether exceptional
ability and acquirements,  and even the knights who have written
accounts of the siege do justice to the fascination of his manner
and  the charm of his conversation.

D'Aubusson now set to work in another direction to counteract the
efforts of the Turks. He erected an  immense wooden catapult, which
threw huge pieces of rock into the midst of the Turkish works,
crushing  down the wooden screens erected to hide their approaches,
breaking in the covered ways, and causing great  loss of life
among the besiegers. At the same time galleries were driven below
the breach, opening into the  ditch, where their exits were concealed
by masses of rubbish. Through these strong working parties issued
out at night, and carried away up the passages the rocks and other
materials that the Turks had, during the  day, brought, with immense
labour, from a distance to the shoot. The materials so carried
away were piled  up behind the retrenchment, greatly adding to its
thickness and strength.

For some days the Turks observed, to their astonishment, that
the road they were constructing across the  ditch was diminishing
instead of increasing in bulk, and at length it became so evident
that the garrison  were in some way removing the materials, that
the pasha determined to deliver the assault before the heap  was
so far diminished as to become impassable. His former defeats had,
however, taught him that success  could not be always calculated
upon, however good its prospect might appear; and although he had
no real  hope that the defenders would yield, he sent a formal
summons for them to do so. This was refused with  disdain, and
preparations were at once made for the assault.

The pasha promised to his soldiers the sack of the town and all
the booty captured, and so assured were  they of success that sacks
were made to carry off the plunder.  Stakes, on which the knights,
when taken  prisoners, were to be impaled, were prepared and
sharpened, and each soldier carried a coil of rope with  which to
secure his captive.

Before ordering the assault, the way was prepared for it by a
terrible fire from every siege gun of the Turks.  This was kept up
for twenty-four hours, and so tremendous was the effect that the
knights were unable to  remain on the ramparts. The Turkish troops
moved into position for attack, their movements being covered  by
the roar of the guns, and soon after sunrise on the 22nd of July
the signal was given, and at a number of  different points the
Turks rushed to the assault. All these attacks, save that on the
breach, were merely  feints, to distract the attention of the garrison,
and to add to the confusion caused by this sudden and  unexpected
onslaught. The pasha's plans were well designed and carried out;
the knights, unable to keep  their places on the ramparts under the
storm of missiles, had retired to shelter behind the walls. There
was  no thought of an instant assault, as they considered that
this would not be delivered until the new wall  behind the breach
had been demolished.

Consequently, the rush of the Turks found the defenders altogether
unprepared. Swarming across the mass  of debris in the ditch, they
ascended the breach without opposition, and their scaling ladders
were placed  against the new wall before the knights could hurry
up to its defence. Even before the alarm was given in  the town,
the Turkish standard was waving on the parapet, and the Moslems
were crowding on to the wall  in vast numbers.  The suddenness of
the attack, the complete surprise, the sound of battle at various
points  around the walls, caused for a time confusion and dismay
among the knights charged with the defence of  the wall facing the
breach. Roused by the uproar, the inhabitants of the town rushed
up to their roofs to  ascertain what was happening, and their cries
of wild terror and alarm at seeing the Turkish banner on the  walls
added to the confusion. D'Aubusson sprang up from the couch, on
which he had thrown himself in  full armour, at the first sound of
the alarm, and, sending off messages to all the auberges to summon
every  man to the defence, ran down into the town, followed by a
small party of knights.

Rushing through the streets, now filled with half dressed people
wild with terror, he reached the foot of the  wall, whose summit
was crowded with the enemy, and saw in an instant that all was lost
unless they could  be driven thence without delay. The effect of
his presence was instantaneous. The knights, hitherto  confused
and dismayed, rallied at once, and prepared for the desperate
undertaking. The bank on the inside  was almost perpendicular, and
those charged with its defence had used two or three ladders for
ascending  to the rampart. These were at once seized and planted
against the wall.

The position of the contending parties was now reversed; the Christians
were the assailants, the Turks the  defenders. D'Aubusson himself
was the first to ascend.  Covering his head with his shield, he
mounted the  rampart; but ere he could gain a footing on the top
he was severely wounded and hurled backwards. Again  he made the
attempt, but was again wounded and thrown down. Once more he mounted,
and this time made  good his footing. A moment later, Gervaise, who
had accompanied him from the palace, stood beside him.  Animated
with the same spirit as his leader, he threw himself recklessly
against the Turks, using a short,  heavy mace, which in a melee
was far more useful than the long sword. Scimitars clashed upon
his helmet  and armour; but at every blow he struck a Turk fell,
and for each foot he gained a knight sprang on to the  wall and
joined him. Each moment their number increased, and the war cry of
the Order rose louder and  fiercer above the din. The very number
of the Turks told against them.  Crowded together as they were they
could not use their weapons effectually, and, pressing fiercely
upon them, the knights drove them back  along the wall on either
hand, hurling them down into the street or over the rampart. On
so narrow a field of  battle the advantage was all on the side of
the knights, whose superior height and strength, and the  protection
afforded by their armour, rendered them almost invincible, nerved
as they were with fury at the  surprise that had overtaken them,
and the knowledge that the fate of the city depended upon their
efforts.  After a quarter of an hour's desperate conflict the Turks
were driven down the partial breach effected in the  wall by the
last bombardment, and the Christians were again the masters of their
ramparts. Paleologus,  however, hurried up reinforcements, headed
by a band of janissaries, whose valour had decided many an  obstinate
conflict. Before ordering them to advance, he gave instructions to
a company of men of approved  valour to devote all their efforts to
attacking D'Aubusson himself, whose mantle and rich armour rendered
him a conspicuous object among the defenders of the breach. Advancing
to the attack, the janissaries burst  through the mass of Turks
still continuing the conflict, and rushed up the breach. Then the
chosen band,  separating from the rest, flung themselves upon the
grand master, the suddenness and fury of their attack  isolating
him and Gervaise from the knights around.

Surrounded as he was by foes, already suffering from two severe
wounds and shaken by his falls from the  ladder, the grand master
yet made a valiant defence in front, while Gervaise, hurling his
mace into the face  of one of his assailants, and drawing his two
handed sword, covered him from the attack from behind.  D'Aubusson
received two more severe wounds, but still fought on. Gervaise,
while in the act of cutting  down an assailant, heard a shout of
triumph from behind, and, looking round, he saw the grand master
sinking to the ground from another wound. With a cry of grief and
fury Gervaise sprang to him, receiving  as he did so several blows
on his armour and shield intended for the fallen knight, and,
standing across him,  showered his blows with such strength and
swiftness that the janissaries shrank back before the sweep of
the flashing steel. More than one who tried to spring into close
quarters fell cleft to the chin, and, ere his  assailants could
combine for a general rush, a body of knights, who had just beaten
off their assailants, fell  upon the ranks of the janissaries with
a force and fury there was no withstanding, and the chosen troops
of  the sultan for the first time broke and fled.

Excited almost to madness by the sight of their beloved master
stretched bleeding on the ground, the  knights dashed down the
breach in eager pursuit. This action was decisive of the fate of
the struggle. The  panic among the janissaries at once spread, and
the main body of troops, who had hitherto valiantly striven  to
regain the advantage snatched from them, now lost heart and fled
in confusion.  But their escape was  barred by the great body of
reinforcements pressing forward across the heap of rubbish that
formed the  breach over the deep ditch. Maddened by fear, the
fugitives strove to cut a way through their friends.  The  whole of
the defenders of the breach now fell upon the rear of the struggling
mass, hewing them down  almost without resistance, while the
cannon from the walls and towers kept up an unceasing fire until
the  last survivors of what had become a massacre, succeeded in
gaining their works beyond the ditch, and fled  to their camp. From
every gateway and postern the knights now poured out, and, gathering
together,  advanced to the attack of St. Stephen's Hill. They met
with but a faint resistance. The greater portion of the  disorganised
troops had made no pause at their camp, but had continued their
headlong flight to the  harbour, where their ships were moored,
Paleologus himself, heartbroken and despairing at his failure,
sharing their flight. The camp, with all its rich booty and the
great banner of the pasha, fell into the hands  of the victors,
who, satisfied with their success, and exhausted by their efforts,
made no attempt to follow  the flying foe, or to hinder their
embarkation; for even now the Turks, enormously outnumbering them as
they did, might be driven by despair to a resistance so desperate
as once again to turn the tide of victory.



CHAPTER XXIII THE REWARD OF VALOUR


Gervaise knew nothing at the time of the final result of the battle,
for as soon as the knights had burst  through the circle of his
opponents, he sank insensible on the body of the grand master. When
he came to  himself, he was lying on a bed in the hospital of the
Order.  As soon as he moved, Ralph Harcourt, who  was, with other
knights, occupied in tending the wounded, came to his bedside.
"Thank God that you are  conscious again, Gervaise! They told me
that it was but faintness and loss of blood, and that none of your
wounds were likely to prove mortal, and for the last twelve hours
they have declared that you were asleep:  but you looked so white
that I could not but fear you would never wake again."

"How is the grand master?" Gervaise asked eagerly.  Ralph shook
his head.

"He is wounded sorely, Gervaise, and the leech declares that one
at least of his wounds is mortal; still, I  cannot bring myself to
believe that so great a hero will be taken away in the moment of
victory, after  having done such marvels for the cause not only of
the Order, but of all Christendom."

"Then you beat them back again from the breach?" Gervaise said.

"That was not all. They were in such confusion that we sallied
out, captured their camp, with the pasha's  banner and an enormous
quantity of spoil, and pursued them to their harbour. Then we halted,
fearing that  they might in their desperation turn upon us, and,
terribly weakened as we were by our losses, have again  snatched
the victory from our grasp. So we let them go on board their ships
without interference, and this  morning there is not a Turkish sail
in sight. The inhabitants are well nigh mad with joy. But elated
as we  are at our success, our gladness is sorely damped by the
state of the grand master, and the loss of so many  of our comrades,
though, indeed, our langue has suffered less than any of the others,
for the brunt of the  attacks on St.  Nicholas and the breach did
not fall upon us, still we lost heavily when at last we hurried up
to win back the wall from them."

"Who have fallen?" Gervaise asked.

"Among the principal knights are Thomas Ben, Henry Haler, Thomas
Ploniton, John Vaquelin, Adam  Tedbond, Henry Batasbi, and Henry
Anlui. Marmaduke Lumley is dangerously wounded. Of the younger
knights, some fifteen have been killed, and among them your old
enemy Rivers. He died a coward's death,  the only one, thank God,
of all our langue. When the fray was thickest Sir John Boswell
marked him  crouching behind the parapet. He seized him by the
gorget, and hauled him out, but his knees shook so that  he could
scarcely walk, and would have slunk back when released. Sir John
raised his mace to slay him as a  disgrace to the Order and our
langue, when a ball from one of the Turkish cannon cut him well
nigh in half,  so that he fell by the hands of the Turks, and not
by the sword of one of the Order he had disgraced.  Fortunately
none, save half a dozen knights of our langue, saw the affair,
and you may be sure we shall say  nothing about it; and instead of
Rivers' name going down to infamy, it will appear in the list of
those who  died in the defence of Rhodes."

"May God assoil his soul!" Gervaise said earnestly. "'Tis strange that
one of gentle blood should have  proved a coward. Had he remained
at home, and turned courtier, instead of entering the Order, he
might  have died honoured, without any one ever coming to doubt
his courage."

"He would have turned out bad whatever he was," Ralph said
contemptuously; "for my part, I never saw a  single good quality
in him."

Long before Gervaise was out of hospital, the glad tidings that
D'Aubusson would recover, in spite of the  prognostications of
the leech, spread joy through the city, and at about the same time
that Gervaise left the  hospital the grand master was able to sit
up. Two or three days afterwards he sent for Gervaise.

"I owe my life to you, Sir Gervaise," he said, stretching out his
thin, white hand to him as he entered. "You  stood by me nobly
till I fell, for, though unable to stand, I was not unconscious,
and saw how you stood  above me and kept the swarming Moslems at
bay. No knight throughout the siege has rendered such great  service
as you have done.  Since I have been lying unable to move, I have
thought of many things; among  them, that I had forgotten to give
you the letters and presents that came for you after you sailed
away. They  are in that cabinet; please bring them to me.  There,"
he said, as Gervaise brought a bulky parcel which the  grand master
opened, "this letter is from the Holy Father himself. That, as you
may see from the arms on  the seal, is from Florence. The others
are from Pisa, Leghorn, and Naples. Rarely, Sir Gervaise, has any
potentate or knight earned the thanks of so many great cities.
These caskets accompanied them. Sit down  and read your letters.
They must be copied in our records."

Gervaise first opened the one from the Pope. It was written by his
own hand, and expressed his thanks as a  temporal sovereign for the
great benefit to the commerce of his subjects by the destruction
of the corsair  fleet, and as the head of the Christian Church
for the blow struck at the Moslems. The other three letters  were
alike in character, expressing the gratitude of the cities for
their deliverance from the danger, and of  their admiration for the
action by which a fleet was destroyed with a single galley.  Along
with the letter  from Pisa was a casket containing a heavy gold
chain set with gems. Florence sent a casket containing a  document
bestowing upon him the freedom of the city, and an order upon the
treasury for five thousand  ducats that had been voted to him by
the grand council of the Republic; while Ferdinand, King of Naples,
bestowed on him the grand cross of the Order of St. Michael.

"The armour I had hung up in the armoury, where it has been carefully
kept clean. I guessed what it was by  the weight of the case when
it came, and thought it best to open it, as it might have got spoilt
by rust. It is a  timely gift, Sir Gervaise, for the siege has
played havoc with the suit Genoa gave you; it is sorely battered,
dinted, and broken, and, although you can doubtless get it repaired,
if I were you I would keep it in its  present state as a memorial
-- and there could be no prouder one -- of the part you bore in
the siege.  I have  seen Caretto this morning. He sails for Genoa
tomorrow, where he will, I hope, soon recover his strength,  for
the wounds he received at St. Nicholas have healed but slowly.  He
said" -- and a momentary smile  crossed the grand master's face --
"that he thought a change might benefit you also, for he was sure
that the  air here had scarce recovered from the taint of blood.
Therefore, here is a paper granting you three months'  leave. His
commandery is a pleasant one, and well situated on the slopes of
the hills; and the fresh air will,  doubtless, speedily set you up.
I should like nothing better than a stay there myself, but there
is much to do  to repair the damages caused by the siege, and to
place the city in a state of defence should the Turks again  lay
siege to it; and methinks Mahomet will not sit down quietly under
the heavy reverse his troops have met  with."

"But I should be glad to stay here to assist in the work, your
Highness."

"There are plenty of knights to see to that," D'Aubusson replied,
"and it will be long before you are fit for  such work.  No, I
give my orders for you to proceed with Caretto to Genoa -- unless,
indeed, you would  prefer to go to some other locality to recruit
your strength."

"I would much rather go with Sir Fabricius, your Highness, than to
any place where I have no  acquaintances.  I have a great esteem
and respect for him."

"He is worthy of it; there is no nobler knight in the Order, and,
had I fallen, none who could more  confidently have been selected
to fill my place. He has an equally high opinion of you, and spoke
long and  earnestly concerning you."

A fortnight later the ship carrying the two knights arrived at
Genoa.

"I will go ashore at once, Gervaise," Caretto said. "I know not
whether my cousin is in the city or on her  estate; if the former,
I will stay with her for a day or two before going off to my
commandery, and of  course you will also be her guest. I hope she
will be here, for methinks we shall both need to refit our  wardrobes
before we are fit to appear in society."

"Certainly I shall," Gervaise agreed; "for, indeed, I find that
my gala costume suffered a good deal during  my long absence; and,
moreover, although I have not increased in height, I have broadened
out a good deal  since I was here two years ago."

"Yes; you were a youth then, Gervaise, and now you are a man, and
one of no ordinary strength and size.  The sun of Tripoli, and your
labours during the siege, have added some years to your appearance.
You are,  I think, little over twenty, but you look two or three
years older.  The change is even greater in your manner  than in
your appearance; you were then new to command, doubtful as to your
own powers, and diffident  with those older than yourself. Now for
two years you have thought and acted for yourself, and have shown
yourself capable of making a mark even among men like the knights
of St. John, both in valour and in  fitness to command. You saved
St. Nicholas, you saved the life of the grand master; and in the
order of the  day he issued on the morning we left, granting you
three months' leave for the recovery of your wounds, he  took the
opportunity of recording, in the name of the council and himself,
their admiration for the services  rendered by you during the siege,
and his own gratitude for saving his life when he lay helpless
and  surrounded by the Moslems -- a testimony of which any knight
of Christendom might well feel proud."

It was three hours before Caretto returned to the ship.

"My cousin is at home, and will be delighted to see you. I am sorry
that I have kept you waiting so long,  but at present Genoa, and,
indeed, all Europe, is agog at the news of the defeat of the Turks,
and Italy  especially sees clearly enough that, had Rhodes fallen,
she would have been the next object of attack by  Mahomet; therefore
the ladies would not hear of my leaving them until I had told them
something at least  of the events of the siege, and also how it
came about that you were there to share in the defence. I see that
you are ready to land; therefore, let us be going at once.  Most
of the people will be taking their siesta at  present, and we shall
get through the streets without being mobbed; for I can assure
you that the mantle of  the Order is just at present in such high
favour that I had a hard task to wend my way through the streets
to  my cousin's house."

On arriving at the palace of the Countess of Forli, Gervaise was
surprised at the change that had taken place  in the Lady Claudia.
From what Caretto had said, he was prepared to find that she had
grown out of her  girlhood, and had altered much. She had, however,
changed even more than he had expected, and had  become, he thought,
the fairest woman that he had ever seen. The countess greeted him
with great  cordiality; but Claudia came forward with a timidity
that contrasted strangely with the outspoken frankness  he remembered
in the girl. For a time they all chatted together of the events of
the siege, and of his  captivity.

"The news that you had been captured threw quite a gloom over us,
Sir Gervaise," the countess said. "We at  first consoled ourselves
with the thought that you would speedily be ransomed; but when
months passed  by, and we heard that all the efforts of the grand
master had failed to discover where you had been taken, I  should
have lost all hope had it not been that my cousin had returned after
an even longer captivity among  the Moors. I am glad to hear that
you did not suffer so many hardships as he did."

"I am in no way to be pitied, Countess," Gervaise said lightly.
"I had a kind master for some months, and  was treated as a friend
rather than as a slave; afterwards, I had the good fortune to be
made the head of the  labourers at the buildings in the sultan's
palace, and although I certainly worked with them, the labour was
not greater than one could perform without distress, and I had
naught to complain of as to my condition."

After talking for upwards of an hour, the countess told Caretto
that she had several matters on which she  needed his counsel, and
retired with him to the next room of the suite opening from the
apartment in which  they had been sitting. For a minute or two the
others sat silent, and then Claudia said,

"You have changed much since I saw you last, Sir Gervaise. Then it
seemed to me scarcely possible that  you could have performed the
feat of destroying the corsair fleet; now it is not so difficult
to understand."

"I have widened out a bit, Lady Claudia. My moustache is really a
moustache, and not a pretence at one;  otherwise I don't feel that
I have changed. The alteration in yourself is infinitely greater."

"I, too, have filled out," she said, with a smile. "I was a thin girl
then -- all corners and angles. No, I don' t  want any compliments,
of which, to tell you the truth, I am heartily sick. And so,"
she went on in a softer  tone, "you have actually brought my gage
home! Oh, Sir Gervaise," -- and her eyes filled with tears -- "my
cousin has told me! How could you have been so foolish as to remain
voluntarily in captivity, that you  might recover the gage a child
had given you?"

"Not a child, Lady Claudia. A girl not yet a woman, I admit; yet
it was not given in the spirit of a young  girl, but in that of
an earnest woman. I had taken a vow never to part with it, as you
had pledged yourself to  bestow no similar favour upon any other
knight. I was confident that you would keep your vow; and  although
in any case, as a true knight, I was bound to preserve your gift,
still more so was I bound by the  thought of the manner in which
you had presented it to me."

"But I could not have blamed you -- I should never have dreamt of
blaming you," she said earnestly, "for  losing it as you did."

"I felt sure, Lady Claudia, that had it been absolutely beyond
my power to regain it you would not have  blamed me; but it was
not beyond my power, and that being so had I been obliged to wait
for ten years,  instead of two, I would not have come back to you
without it. Moreover, you must remember that I prized it  beyond
all things. I had often scoffed at knights of an order like ours
wearing ladies' favours. I had always  thought it absurd that we,
pledged as we are, should thus declare ourselves admirers of one
woman more  than another. But this seemed to me a gage of another
kind; it was too sacred to be shown or spoken of, and  I only
mentioned it to Caretto as he cross questioned me as to why I refused
the offer of ransom; and should  not have done so then, had he not
been present when it was bestowed. I regarded it not as a lightly
given  favour, the result of a passing fancy by one who gave favours
freely, but as a pledge of friendship and as a  guerdon for what
I had done, and therefore, more to be honoured than the gifts of a
Republic freed from a  passing danger. Had you then been what you
are now, I might have been foolish enough to think of it in  another
light, regardless of the fact that you are a rich heiress of one of
the noblest families in Italy, and I a  knight with no possessions
save my sword."

"Say not so, Sir Gervaise," she said impetuously. "Are you not a
knight on whom Genoa and Florence have  bestowed their citizenship,
whom the Holy Father himself has thanked, who has been honoured
by Pisa,  and whom Ferdinand of Naples has created a Knight of the
Grand Cross of St. Michael, whom the grand  master has singled out
for praise among all the valiant knights of the Order of St. John,
who, as my cousin  tells me, saved him and the fort he commanded
from capture, and who stood alone over the fallen grand  master,
surrounded by a crowd of foes. How can you speak of yourself as a
simple knight?"

Then she stopped, and sat silent for a minute, while a flush of
colour mounted to her cheeks.

"Give me my gage again, Sir Gervaise," she said gently.  In silence
Gervaise removed it from his neck,  wondering greatly what could
be her intention. She turned it over and over in her hand.

"Sir Knight," she said, "this was of no great value in my eyes when
I bestowed it upon you; it was a gage,  and not a gift. Now it is
to me of value beyond the richest gem on earth; it is a proof of the
faith and loyalty  of the knight I most esteem and honour, and so
in giving it to you again, I part with it with a pang, for I  have
far greater reason to prize it than you can have. I gave it you
before as a girl, proud that a knight who  had gained such honour
and applause should wear her favour, and without the thought that
the trinket was a  heart. I give it to you now as a woman, far
prouder than before that you should wear her gage, and not blind
to the meaning of the emblem."

Gervaise took her hand as she fastened it round his neck, and
kissed it; then, still holding it, he said, "Do  you know what you
are doing, Claudia? You are raising hopes that I have never been
presumptuous enough  to cherish."

"I cannot help that," she said softly. "There is assuredly no
presumption in the hope."

He paused a moment.

"You would not esteem me," he said, holding both her hands now,
"were I false to my vows. I will return to  Rhodes tomorrow, and
ask the grand master to forward to the Pope and endorse my petition,
that I may be  released from my vows to the Order. I cannot think
that he or the Holy Father will refuse my request. Then,  when I
am free, I can tell you how I love and honour you, and how, as I
have in the past devoted my life to  the Order, so I will in the
future devote it to your happiness."

The girl bowed her head.

"'Tis right it should be so," she said. "I have waited, feeling
in my heart that the vow I had given would  bind me for life, and
I should be content to wait years longer if needs be. But I am bound
by no vows, and  can acknowledge that you have long been the lord
of my life, and that so long as you wore the heart I had  given
you, so long would I listen to the wooing of no other."

"I fear that the Countess, your mother -- " Gervaise began, but
she interrupted him.

"You need not fear," she said. "My mother has long known, and knowing
also that I am not given to  change, has ceased to importune me
to listen to other offers. Her sole objection was that you might
never  return from captivity. Now that you have come back with
added honours, she will not only offer no  objection, but will, I
am sure, receive you gladly, especially as she knows that my cousin
Sir Fabricius, for  whom she has the greatest affection, holds you
in such high esteem."

Six months later Gervaise again landed at Genoa, after having stayed
at Rome for a few days on his way  back.  D'Aubusson had expressed
no surprise at his return to Rhodes, or at the request he made.

"Caretto prepared me for this," he said, smiling, "when he asked
me if you might accompany him to Genoa.  The Order will be a loser,
for you would assuredly have risen to the grand priorage of your
langue some  day. But we have no right to complain; you have done
your duty and more, and I doubt not that should  Mahomet again lay
siege to Rhodes, we may count on your hastening here to aid us?"

"That assuredly you may, sir. Should danger threaten, my sword
will be as much at the service of the Order  as if I were still a
member of it."

"I by no means disapprove," D'Aubusson went on, "of knights leaving
us when they have performed their  active service, for in civil life
they sometimes have it in their power to render better service to
the Order  than if passing their lives in the quiet duties of a
provincial commandery. It will be so in your case: the lady  is a
great heiress, and, as the possessor of wide lands, your influence
in Northern Italy may be very  valuable to us, and in case of need
you will, like my brother De Monteuil, be able to bring a gathering
of  men-at-arms to our aid. Have no fear that the Pope will refuse
to you a release from your vows. My  recommendation alone would be
sufficient; but as, moreover, he is himself under an obligation to
you, he  will do so without hesitation.  Since you have been away,
your friend Harcourt has been appointed a  commander of a galley,
and Sir John Boswell, being incapacitated by the grievous wounds
he received  during the siege, has accepted a rich commandery in
England, and sailed but two days since to take up his  charge.  By
the way, did you reply to those letters expressing your thanks and
explaining your long  silence?"

"Yes, your Highness, I wrote the same evening you gave them to me."

"That is right. The money voted you by Florence will be useful to
you now, and there is still a sum sent by  your commandery owing
to you by the treasury. I will give you an order for it. However
rich an heiress a  knight may win, 'tis pleasant for him to have
money of his own; not that you will need it greatly, for,  among
the presents you have received, the jewels are valuable enough for
a wedding gift to a princess."

Gervaise was well received at Rome, and the Pope, after reading
the grand master's letter, and learning  from him his reason for
wishing to leave the Order, without hesitation granted him absolution
from his  vows. A few months later there was a grand wedding at the
cathedral of Genoa, the doge and all the nobles  of the Republic
being present.

Ralph Harcourt and nine other young knights had accompanied Gervaise
from Rhodes by the permission,  and indeed at the suggestion, of
the grand master, who was anxious to show that Gervaise had his
full  approval and countenance in leaving the Order. Caretto, who
had been appointed grand prior of Italy, had  brought the knights
from all the commanderies in the northern republics to do honour to
the occasion, and  the whole, in their rich armour and the mantles
of the Order, made a distinguishing feature in the scene.

The defeat of the Turks created such enthusiasm throughout Europe
that when the grand prior of England  laid before the king letters
he had received from the grand master and Sir John Kendall, speaking
in the  highest terms of the various great services Gervaise had
rendered to the Order, Edward granted his request  that the act of
attainder against Sir Thomas Tresham and his descendants should be
reversed and the estates  restored to Gervaise. The latter made,
with his wife, occasional journeys to England, staying a few months
on his estates in Kent; and as soon as his second son became old
enough, he sent him to England to be  educated, and settled the estate
upon him. He himself had but few pleasant memories of England; he
had  spent indeed but a very short time there before he entered the
house of the Order in Clerkenwell, and that  time had been marked
by constant anxiety, and concluded with the loss of his father.
The great estates that  were now his in Italy demanded his full
attention, and, as one of the most powerful nobles of Genoa, he
had  come to take a prominent part in the affairs of the Republic.

He was not called upon to fulfil his promise to aid in the defence
of Rhodes, for the death of Mahomet just  at the time when he was
preparing a vast expedition against it, freed the Island for a long
time from fear of  an invasion.  From time to time they received
visits from Ralph Harcourt, who, after five years longer  service
at Rhodes, received a commandery in England. He held it a few years
only, and then returned to the  Island, where he obtained a high
official appointment.

In 1489 Sir John Boswell became bailiff of the English langue,
and Sir Fabricius Caretto was in 1513  elected grand master of the
Order, and held the office eight years, dying in 1521.

When, in 1522, forty-two years after the first siege, Rhodes was
again beleaguered, Gervaise, who had, on  the death of the countess,
become Count of Forli, raised a large body of men-at-arms, and
sent them, under  the command of his eldest son, to take part in
the defence. His third son had, at the age of sixteen, entered  the
Order, and rose to high rank in it.

The defence, though even more obstinate and desperate than the
first, was attended with less success, for  after inflicting enormous
losses upon the great army, commanded by the Sultan Solyman himself,
the town  was forced to yield; for although the Grand Master
L'Isle Adam, and most of his knights, would have  preferred to bury
themselves beneath the ruins rather than yield, they were deterred
from doing so, by the  knowledge that it would have entailed the
massacre of the whole of the inhabitants, who had throughout the
siege fought valiantly in the defence of the town. Solyman had
suffered such enormous losses that he was  glad to grant favourable
conditions, and the knights sailed away from the city they had held
so long and  with such honour, and afterwards established themselves
in Malta, where they erected another stronghold,  which in the end
proved an even more valuable bulwark to Christendom than Rhodes had
been. There were  none who assisted more generously and largely, by
gifts of money, in the establishment of the Order at  Malta than
Gervaise. His wife, while she lived, was as eager to aid in the
cause as he was himself, holding  that it was to the Order she owed
her husband. And of all their wide possessions there were none so
valued  by them both, as the little coral heart set in pearls that
she, as a girl, had given him, and he had so faithfully  brought
back to her.



THE END




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