A Knight of the White Cross : a tale of the siege of Rhodes / Henty, G. A. (George Alfred), 1832-1902

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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]

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Language: English

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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 w