Disorderly Knights - Dorothy Dunnett [77]
Walking back afterwards with the Grand Master to his lodging, which with an attention he found almost too overwhelming, was in the Grand Master’s own suite, the Ambassador said, ‘I have a supplicant for you, Your Eminence, from the fishing barque whose false message from Messina caused the Turks to abandon the Mdina siege. The captain of the vessel was taken hostage, it seems, by Sinan Pasha. His lieutenant intercepted me outside Pantelleria in order to beg you to pay his principal’s ransom.’
Beside him, Juan de Homedès’s stiff walk had not faltered, but in the flare of the porters’ cressets his face looked a little severe. ‘There is no obligation on the Order to ransom this man,’ he said at last. ‘The boat is the responsibility of the Viceroy of Sicily, not ours.’
The French Ambassador waited a moment, then said reasonably, ‘I gather that no seamen of the Viceroy’s would take the risk. This boat, which had nothing to gain but a little money, was manned by a Scotsman.’
‘A Scots fisherman in the Mediterranean?’ said the Grand Master lightly. ‘You astonish me.’
And by then, M. d’Aramon was fairly certain that the Grand Master was perfectly familiar with the identity of the captain who had taken the biggest gamble any Christian could: who had sailed into the hands of the Turks so that the misleading letter should fall into their hands. ‘His name is Thompson,’ said d’Aramon, with no hope of the Grand Master but a sudden very strong conviction of his own.
‘The Scottish pirate! Dear me, M. d’Aramon, you speak of a man who deserves all the chastisement that this life or the next may provide. He is the scourge of the Order. I cannot count the number of times he has raided ships of the Religion.’
‘He plunders us all,’ said d’Aramon patiently. ‘He none the less saved Mdina and most likely Malta that day.’
‘A small remittance which will barely cover the least of his sins. No, no,’ said the Grand Master, preceding d’Aramon into his chamber and signing him to be seated. ‘I have much more serious affairs to discuss with you tonight. Here, in the privacy of this room, I must tell you what has reached my ears from the survivors of Gozo. We may not hope that the heathen, having done his worst, is sailing, distended with Christian blood, to his master at the Porte. No. Sinan Pasha, Dragut Rais and the Turkish fleet have gone to their real objective, Sir Ambassador; and their real objective is the taking of Tripoli.
‘Therefore,’ said the Grand Master of the Order of St John, standing old, tall and noble in his ancient office over Gabriel d’Aramon’s head, ‘Therefore in the name of Jesus Christ, in the name of the monarch your master who glories in the title of the Most Christian King, I must ask you to sail forthwith to Tripoli and to dissuade this wild and sinful pagan from his design. You, by virtue of your office, have been compelled to acquaint yourself with this vicious race,’ said Juan de Homedès sternly. ‘It is open to you now to make godly use of the commerce with which you have soiled your hands. Go to the heathen, sir, and order them to desist.’
*
Years of intrigue in his native France; years of exile as military attaché to the French Ambassador at Venice; years at the Porte, travelling all over Asia Minor in the Sultan’s train, bickering over rights in Jerusalem and enticing concessions from viziers, had made the Baron d’Aramon’s political senses very sharp. Long before this ominous walk with the Grand Master he had put in hand, discreetly, an inquiry among the soldiers, the mercenaries, the Maltese, to find out what really had happened