Читать книгу The Siege of Malta (St. Elmo) - S. Fowler Wright - Страница 4

PART I—ST. ELMO

CHAPTER I

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The sun was setting over the broad waters of the Straits of Gibraltar, and its western rays adorned with brilliant colours and violet shades the serrated mass which has in its wild variety one of the most impressive effects of mountain scenery in the world, when a light galley, flying the scarlet sign of the Maltese Cross, and having cast anchor in Vilheyna’s harbour, but at some distance from the other shipping which it contained, dropped a small skiff, which pulled rapidly toward the quay.

From the boat a single officer disembarked, and had directed it to return, even before he was approached by the warden of the quay with a courteous but yet somewhat peremptory challenge of whom he was, and what business had brought him there.

It was a tone which may have owed something of its quality to the stranger’s appearance, his turban, and the looseness of the white garments he wore, giving him more the aspect of a Turk than a Christian man. But he answered with the assurance of one confident alike in himself and the business on which he came.

“I am from Malta, on a commission from the Grand Master to the Commander of Vilheyna and Aldea Bella, to whom I will thank you to guide me without delay.”

“Don Manuel will be at meat in the next hour, which is not a time when he will consent to give audience, unless the matter be one of an urgent kind.”

“My commission is here,” the pursuivant answered, showing a chain of gold with the insignia of Malta around his neck, “and its urgency would excuse intrusion were he engaged in his private prayers.”

The Spaniard, surprised at the boldness of this reply, regarded the speaker with more intentness than before.

“He must surely,” he thought, “be either Christian or a most insolent and audacious dog to have landed thus; though I have seldom seen one whom I would have more quickly called by the name of a heathen Moor. But to the Castle he shall go by his own desire, and his reception should not be a dull sight.”

Having so resolved, he delayed only to give charge to an assistant officer to take order till his return, and led the way from the harbour and through a fishing village that lay on its eastern side and then by an uphill road to the great castle of Aldea Bella, which stood on a steep height overlooking the bay.

They walked on in the growing dusk until they came within sight of the castle, crowning the head of a deep precipitous valley, the wide sweep of its walls being broken by a succession of turrets, both round and square, after the fashion of the military architecture of that period. The main gate of the castle, to which the road gave access, had the usual defences of barbican, drawbridge and portcullis, which were kept guarded and closed, even in this time of comparative peace, except to those who had a recognized right of entrance.

But as they came to the wide space before the castle which was left bare to prevent the covered approach of a hostile force, they were aware of a solitary figure upon another path, which was converging upon them.

“It appears,” the pursuivant’s guide remarked, “that you will not need to enter the castle to meet its lord.”

A moment later, they stood before the Commander of Vilheyna himself, a tall, grey old man, muscular even in age, clothed in a black cloak which bore neither ornament nor any token of rank, except the scarlet sign of the eight-pointed cross which was embroidered thereon.

Don Manuel’s glance passed quickly from the stranger to the servant he knew, with a sharp enquiry of what it meant that they should be there—which did not condescend to the familiarity of a spoken word—and the man answered with the brevity which he knew his master approved: “Lord, this officer comes from Malta.”

The Commander turned his gaze upon the pursuivant. “With what tidings?” he asked.

“I am to inform you that the island of Malta is threatened by the instant invasion of the whole force of the Turkish Empire. The Grand Master orders that you shall——”

“You have said enough. I do not need to be told my duty by such as you. Follow me, and be prepared to answer such questions as I may ask at a later hour.”

With these words the Commander turned and led the way to the castle, the gravity of the tidings he had received being scarcely sufficient to overcome his resentment at the method by which they had been communicated. “Such,” he thought, “is the degradation of the times to which we have come that the Grand Master thinks it no offence to communicate his wishes through such a channel, to one who is little less than himself in the great Order to which we belong; and who is, besides, one of the greatest nobles of Spain. I can recall a time when a knight of the Order would have been the only possible messenger to employ.”

It was not until they had passed the entrance and stood in the great hall of the castle that he again showed himself to be conscious of the pursuivant’s presence.

“You have told all that you need,” he then said, in a tone somewhat more cordial than before but still of a condescending quality, “when you have told me that the Moors are preparing attack. We know enough of the tender mercies of the infidel to understand what their success would mean to our brothers there. But we may be sustained again, as we have been in many earlier perils. I must suppose, beyond that, that you have come to intimate the Grand Master’s pleasure that I shall go to his aid with such troops as my revenues can supply or that I can solicit among my friends.”

The pursuivant appeared about to reply in a speech of sufficient solemnity when the Commander abruptly checked him: “But I will spare you the trouble of telling me my duty on this occasion, which it is possible that I know better, not only than yourself, but than most of the younger brethren. You must forgive me, sir herald; I am aware that our Order, following the example of many important potentates, has of late entrusted its relations with its own members or foreign states to diplomatists of your character. It is an innovation of which I do not approve, but I will assure you in few words that I shall support the Grand Master with instant speed and with all the resources at my command.”

“My lord,” the pursuivant replied, with a ceremonious and even humble courtesy, which yet seemed to be of deliberate assumption rather than a natural attitude, “no one conversant with the Maltese Order could entertain doubt that your Lordship would on this occasion, as on every other of the kind, show a brilliant example to the Knights among whom you have ever been an illustrious light. The summons is of routine, as I need not say, and sent indifferently to all.”

“So it may be, yet it remains that it is not fitting for such as you to inform me of what my duties to the Order may be. But,” he continued in a more courteous tone, “it is the hour of the evening meal, which I will ask you to share, and after which you can tell me more than it is now convenient to hear.... Ramegas, will you make this señor’s comfort your care?”

He spoke to one little less than himself in age or gravity of demeanour, and who also wore the distinctive dress of the great half-monastic Order to which the Commander belonged. But though also a servant of St. John of Jerusalem, he was not one who ranked among the dignitaries of the Order. He was one of those who were known as Brothers-at-Arms, or Serving Brothers, being men of good birth and repute, but not of such rank or wealth as would avail them to claim the high honours of Malta’s Knights. Such men would often attach themselves to one of courage and high conduct among the principals of the Order; and those who did this, like Juan Ramegas, and afterwards distinguished themselves by the standard of their own conduct, might gain reputation and authority far beyond the title that they were permitted to bear: but though Ramegas had thus acquitted himself, yet at his patron’s retirement from the sea-warfare upon the Turks, which was now the main occupation of the Maltese knights, to the comparative seclusion of his own Commandery of Aldea Bella, the door of preference within the Order was closed against him. His time was now largely occupied in control of the estates which Don Manuel ruled in the Order’s name, and his pride may have been secretly somewhat touched that he should be so completely under the domination of one man’s pleasure....

Don Manuel having withdrawn to his own apartment, the pursuivant found himself committed to Ramegas’s charge, and under the necessity of introducing himself in a more personal way than the Commander had required or would probably have considered it seemly for him to do.

He gave his name as Rinaldo, and described himself as being an ensign of a noble Florentine family; but having said that, he was quick to turn the conversation adroitly to an account of improvements made upon the fortifications of Malta since Señor Ramegas had last been there, and to the reputed size of the Turkish fleet, which was reported to be taking the sea for the destruction of Malta’s knights, until they were interrupted by the loud clang of the bell which announced the bringing-in of the evening meal.