 CHAPTER XXII. The Struggle at the Breach. Two hours later, Coreto and Gervais 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 Diabason 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, Coreto 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 Muslim vessels were seen approaching. Coreto 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 runes, and with four other knights in Gervais went down in complete armor to salute the officer in command of the varying party. As he landed from the boats, the ships anchored a short distance out, and a number of boats rode from them to the shore. As the Turkish officer landed, Coreto saluted him, and said in Arabic, I give you courteous greeting, sir. When the cannon ceased 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 one of respect for the dead. But solely because we dare not stand bare-headed under the fierce rays of the sun, the Turk answered with equal courtesy, complimenting the knights on their defense. 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 marvelous prowess of the knights of your order, and how at Smyrna, at Acre, and elsewhere, they performed such feats of valor 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 valor 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 Kireto and Gervais, 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 endeavors 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. Oss or knight, if it had not been for the appearance of your fireships, me thinks the matter might have ended differently. In that I altogether agree with you, Kireto said. We were indeed well nice spent and must have soon succumbed, had it not been that the fireships 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, labored all night at the mound, removing great quantities of the fallen stone and rubbish in a line halfway up it, and piling them above so as to form a scarf 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 knight 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 defenses 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 grandmaster and officials in all their robes of state, the knights in full armor and the mantles of the order, while the inhabitants in gala costume lined the streets, windows, and house tops, the ladies waving scarves and scattering flowers down on the knights. The roar of great cannon in 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 defense. 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 defenses 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 Lange province 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 organized 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 way. The roar of the bombardment was almost continuous, and was heard at islands distant from roads, telling the inhabitants how the battle between the Christians and Muslims was raging. It was not long before the wall in front of the Jews quarter began to crumble, and it was soon evident that it must, air many days, succumb to the storm of missiles hurled against it. Diabasin lost no time in making preparations to avert the danger. He ordered all the houses in rear of the wall to be leveled. A deep semi-circular 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 grandmaster himself set the example, and throwing aside his robes and armor, labored with pick and shovel like the commonest laborer. 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 dispatch from Constantinople, in which the Pasha was informed that the saltan 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 grandmaster was the heart and soul of the defense, and that the failure of the assault was mainly due to his energy and ability. He determined to resort to the weapons 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 saltan 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 Langs believed the prospect of a successful defense against so enormous a force was absolutely hopeless, and determined to put pressure upon Diabason to treat for surrender before it became too late. They opened negotiations with an Italian named Phil Elpho, one of Diabason's secretaries, who undertook to lay their opinion before the Grand Master. Diabason 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 Muslim Sultan, you have my full permission to leave the town, and more than that I will myself secure your safe departure, which might be imperiled 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 chastely 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 Diabason forgave them and promised them a place in the van when next the Muslims attacked. The incident had 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 Diabason, 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 it divulged the entire plot for Diabason'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, authorizing them to make such promises in his name. Filelfo at once divulged the whole plot to Diabason. 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 nights 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 at Burge, 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, labored at the construction of the inner wall. When that was completed, Sir John Boswell, under whose special charge they had been placed, said to Gervais, 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 Coretto, and tell him that he can sleep soundly if he has a couple of them on watch? One of them, Roger Gervais, who is the mate of their ship, can speak some Italian, and as he is in command of them, Coretto will fly no trouble in making them understand him. St. Nicholas had now been put into a fair state of defense, as a party had been kept steadily at work there. Gervais 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 Coretto was fast recovering from his wounds. As it seems, Sir Fabricius, he said after the first greetings to the night, 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 fireships 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 sailcloth 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 when they would be. Did they think an attack was impending, now that there was reason to believe that Saint Nicholas might again be attacked? Gervais was frequently there with orders or inquiries from the Grand Master. A number of vessels in the harbor were fitted up as fireships, so as to be in readiness when the attack came. He was about to start early one morning when he saw Roger Gervais 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. Aye, aye, I have been in the water, and the 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 Jeffries 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 mast-head. 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 anyone in it, but it was too dark to make quite sure what it was. I watched it for some 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 at 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 the idea that no one had seen him. So I kept hid until he started again. He waited 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 the side, 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 pounds weight, and fastened the ropes in to 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 who find out all about it, for he could not make out much of what I said. It is very important, Gervais 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 Gervais into an apartment where Diabason was taking counsel with some of the senior knights. Pardon my interrupting your highness, Gervais 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, Diabason 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 not 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 armor. We shall now be fully prepared, and need have no doubt 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 fireships, which were altogether more formidable than those girveys 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. Diabason 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 Fetchit while they were discussing the matter of the fireships. Here are two hundred golden scrounds, he added, handing the bag to the seamen. With these you can either settle on shore, or can build a stealth 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 you're 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 fireship 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 defense 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 chauveau de frieze. 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 Diabasin 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' fireships. 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 fresher 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 alla 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 in 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 labor 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 conveyed 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 Saint 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 favorite, 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 rode 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 anyone 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 commenced the construction of a battery on the edge of the great ditch, facing the retrenchment behind the breach before affected. 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 feet 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 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 stone 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 their breached wall. This novel method of attack was altogether unexpected. The Knights had regarded the fuss that had been cut as such an enormous expenditure of labour as forming an altogether impassable obstruction, and were dismayed at seeing the progress made in filling it up. The Abbasin himself, full of resources as he was, saw that the defense was seriously threatened, unless some plan of meeting this unexpected danger could be devised. He consulted Madrid-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 suspicion's Diabasin 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 apostasy, and acted in good faith in deserting the standard of Paleologus. He was undoubtedly a man of altogether exceptional ability and requirements, 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. Diabasin 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 chute. 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 twenty-second of July the signal was given, and at a number of different points the Turks rushed to the assault. All these attacks saved that on the breach were merely faints. 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 massive 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 defense. Even before the alarm was given in the town, the Turkish standard was waving on the parapet, and the Muslims were crowding onto 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 defense 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. Diabasin sprang up from the couch, on which he had thrown himself in full armor, at the first sound of the alarm, and sending off messages to all the Abirjahs to summon every man to the defense, 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 thins 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 defense 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. Diabasin 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, Gervais, 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. Some miters clashed upon his helmet and armor, but at each blow he struck a Turk fell, and for each foot he gained a knight sprang onto 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 armor 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 affected 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 valor had decided many an obstinate conflict. Before ordering them to advance, he gave instructions to a company of men of approved valor to devote all their efforts to attacking Diabason himself, whose mantle and rich armor 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 Gervais from the knights around. Surrounded as he was by foes already suffering from two severe wounds, and shaken by his falls from the latter, the Grand Master yet made a valiant defense in front, while Gervais hurling his mace in the face of one of his assailants, and drawing his two-handed sword, covered him from the attack from behind. Diabason received two more severe wounds, but still fought on. Gervais, while in the act of cutting down an assailant, heard a shot 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, Gervais sprang to him, receiving as he did so several blows on his armor 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 nowithstanding, 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 this 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 away 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 posture 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 disorganized troops had made no pause at their camp, but had continued their headlong flight through the harbor, 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. End of Chapter 22 Read by Peter Strom in Sylvia, Colombia, on February 7, 2019 Chapter 23 Of A Night of the White Cross by G. A. Henty This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Chapter 23 The Reward of Valor Gervais 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 intending the wounded, came to his bedside. Thank God that you are conscious again, Gervais. 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? Gervais asked eagerly. Ralph shook his head. He is wounded sorely, Gervais, 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, Gervais said. That was not all. They were in such confusion that we sallied out, captured their camp with the Pash's banner, and an enormous quantity of spoil, and pursued them to their harbor. 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 our grand master, and the loss of so many of our comrades, though indeed our Lang 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 wind back the wall from then. Who have fallen? Gervais asked. Among the principal knights are Thomas Ben, Henry Haylor, Thomas Planeten, John Vaculin, Adam Tedbond, Henry Batazby, and Henry Ann Louie. 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 Lang. 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 Lang. When a ball from one of the Turkish cannons 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 Lang 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 defense of Rhodes. May God assoil his soul, Gervais said earnestly. It is 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 honored without anyone 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 Gervais was out of hospital, the glad tidings that Diabasin would recover, in spite of the prognostications of the Leech, spread joy through the city, and at about the same time that Gervais left the hospital, the Grand Master was able to sit up. Two or three days afterwards he sent for Gervais. I owe my life to you, Sir Gervais, 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 Muslims at bay. No night 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 Gervais 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 Gervais 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. Gervais first opened the one from the Pope. It was written in 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 Muslims. The other three letters were alike in character, expressing the gratitude of the cities for their deliverance from 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 armory, where it has been carefully kept clean, I guessed what it was but the weight of the case when it came, and thought it best to open it, as it might have got spoiled by rest. It is a timely gift, Sir Gervais, for the siege has played havoc with the suit Genoa gave you. It is sorely battered, dented 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 Coreto 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 prepare the damages caused by the siege, and to place the city in a state of defense should the Turks again lay siege to it. And me thinks Mohammed 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 nights to see to that, Diabasin replied, and it will be long before you are fit for such work. No, I give my orders for you to proceed with Coretto to Genoa, unless indeed you would prefer to go to some other locality to recruit your strength. I would much rather go a serfrabitious, 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 night 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, Gervais, Coretto 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 me thinks we shall both need to refit our wardrobes before we are fit to appear in society. Certainly I shall, Gervais agreed, for indeed I find that my Gaelic 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, Gervais, and now you are a man, and one of no ordinary strength in size. The son of Tripoli and your labors 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 are 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 Saint John, both in valor and in fitness to command. You saved Saint 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 recovering 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 Muslims. A testimony of which any knight of Christendom might well feel proud. It was three hours before Coretto 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 a gawg 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 Mohammed. Therefore the ladies would not hear of my leaving them until I 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 defense. 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 favor that I had a hard task to wind my way through the streets to my cousin's house on arriving at the palace of the Countess of Forley. Gervais was surprised at the change that had taken place in the Lady Claudia. From what Coretto 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 Gervais, 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, Gervais 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 Laborers at the buildings in the Sultan's Palace, and although I certainly worked with them, the labor was not greater than one could perform without distress, and I had not to complain of as to my condition. After talking for upward of an hour, the Countess told Coretto 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 Gervais. 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 mustache is really a mustache, 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 gauge home, Sir Gervais, 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 gauge 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 favor upon any other night. I was confident that you would keep your vow, and although in any case as a true night 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 nights of an order like ours wearing ladies' favors. 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 gauge of another kind. It was too sacred to be shown or spoken of, and I only mentioned it to Coretto as he crossed 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 favor, the result of a passing fancy by one who gave favors freely, but as a pledge of friendship, and as a guardian 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 Gervais," 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 in 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 gauge again, Sir Gervais," she said gently. In silence, Gervais 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 gauge 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 to 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 gauge, and not plying to the meaning of the emblem. Gervais 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. Gervais 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 impertune 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, Gervais again landed at Genoa, after having stayed at Rome for a few days on his way back. Diabasin had expressed no surprise at his return to Rhodes, or at the request he made. Corretto 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 lang someday. But we have no right to complain. You have done your duty and more, and I doubt not that should Muhammad 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. Diabasin 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 in 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 Dimontu, be able to bring a gathering of men of 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 night may win, it is 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. Gervais was well received at Rome, and the Pope, after reading the grandmaster'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 in nine other young knights had accompanied Gervais from Rhodes by the permission, and indeed at the suggestion of the grandmaster, who was anxious to show that Gervais had his full approval and countenance in leaving the order. Coretto, who had been appointed grand prior of Italy, had brought the knights from all the commanderies in the Northern Republics to do honor to the occasion, and the whole, in their rich armor 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 grandmaster, and Sir John Kendall, speaking in the highest terms of the various great services Gervais had rendered to the order, Edward granted his request that the act of attainder against Sir Thomas Treisham and his descendants should be reversed, and the estates restored to Gervais, 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 fulfill his promise to aid in the defense of Rhodes, for the death of Muhammad 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 Lang, and Sir Fabricius Coreto was in 1513 elected Grand Master of the Order. He held the office eight years, dying in 1521. When in 1522, forty-two years after the first siege, Rhodes was again beleaguered. Gervais, who had, on the death of the Countess, become Count of Forley, raised a large body of men at arms, and sent them under the command of his eldest son to take part in the defense. His third son had, at the age of sixteen, entered the order, and rose to high rank in it. The defense, 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 Suleiman himself, the town was forced to yield. For although the Grand Master, Leial Adam, and most of his knights, would have preferred to bury themselves beneath the runes 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 defense of the town. Suleiman had suffered such enormous losses that he was glad to grant favorable conditions, and the knights sailed away from the city they had held so long, and with such honor, 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 Gurves. 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. End of Chapter 23 End of A Night of the White Cross by G. A. Henty Read by Peter Strom in Papaya, Colombia, February 7, 2019