The Brothers of Malta-Five

Tomas would have to deal with Suleiman I and Frederico with Lala Kara Mustafa Pasha. The ships had to be destroyed by the guns of Tomas, and the land soldiers by the guns and swords of Frederico. Both men approached their commands with different means. Frederico had risen early, before the early dawn, and assisted at Mass. He then prayed before the icon of Our Lady in the small chapel next to his apartments for two hours. His orders came from a different authority than Vallette.

Today, Frederico knew the battle would commence, and, sadly, many people would die. But, he was assured by the Virgin that Malta would endure and win in the end, after many trials.

Frederico had been mentally prepared for suffering and victory. The French Grand Master had joined Frederico for Mass, surprisingly prayer, and then breakfast. The tall and elegant Grand Master prepared for battle like his entire household, by going to the King of Kings and begging for spiritual prudent and perseverance. And, a break-fast it was for both men. Frederico trusted Valette’s humility, born of his past as a galley slave himself, and as a true Knight of the Order. Vallette had already given new orders in the dark of pre-dawn. The promontory and St. Elmo’s armies were on alert, even before Tomas saw the sails in the distance. Vallette had received word from his men in Sicily and southern Italy, men who would be called “secret service spies” in later days.

The Grand Master poured fresh water with lime slices for both men.  A small, brown bird hopped on the window sill. “The rumour mills turn and turn, giving the numbers of ships belonging to the Sultan Suleiman as 193. Do you suppose such numbers would be sent here? I do, but we will hold back the enemy from the shores of Europe herself.”

Frederico tore some bread and spread soft cheese over the piece. “Yes, I believe the numbers we are hearing. Why not, Vallette. Why not? The Sultan has many ships and he has pride to match. He wants to destroy Catholicity on this island and will use all his power to do so. Yes, I believe these numbers.”

Vallette stood up and went to the window. “Listen, the bell, the warning bell. Tomas has seen something-the something we knew was coming. Call for my horse and attendant, please Frederico, and God bless you here. I assume you are ready? I go to the eastern coast with God and Our Lady to guide me.”

Vallette was outside, and turned to shake Frederico’s hand. “I am ready, Sir.”

Vallette mounted his horse, and he and his attendant charged down the cobblestone streets to the gate and off in the direction of the promontory.  Frederico attache joined him, “Do you want your horse, Sir?”  Frederico looked at the young man, who seemed frightened. The young man was a novice in the Order, a young man from England, fair and tall, but scared. “Matthew, let us first stop and say a rosary to Our Lady. Then, we shall join the troops. Pray for courage and perseverance, as this will be a long battle.”

Within the hour, the two were on their way to the tents at Fort Angelo. In this Year of Our Lord, 1565, on May 18^th, with the hardening breeze of the sea in his face, mixed with the sand of the sirocco, Frederico thought, either he would suffer and meet His God soon, or suffer and endure to fight for many days. All rested in God’s Hands. He sped on his white horse and Matthew followed on his bay.

To be continued…