‘Who gave the order to build the fort here?’ he asked La Valette. ‘You?’
‘The Grand Master before me.’
‘And who advised him, if anyone?’
‘There was an Italian siege engineer commissioned to oversee the work but he died shortly after reaching Malta.’
‘That is a shame, since he might have prevented your predecessor from making such a catalogue of mistakes.’
‘Oh?’
‘To begin with, this fort is in the wrong location. It should be up there.’ Don Garcia pointed towards the ridge running along the peninsula dividing the harbours. ‘Up there it could command every approach. As it is, the enemy will be able to occupy the high ground and dominate the fort. Furthermore, there is no shelter along the parapet. As soon as a man shows his head above the wall he will be clearly outlined against the sky, making an easy target for any arquebusiers concealed in front of the fort. And there’s too little space on the walls to mount more than a handful of cannon. You will have to use the towers. There’s another thing. Look down there.’ Don Garcia pointed to the nearest corner of the star-shaped fort. ‘If the Turks can work round the front face they’ll be able to scale that comer easily. It’s too low. You’ll need to construct a ravelin there.’
As La Valette nodded, Richard leaned towards Thomas and whispered, ‘Ravelin?’
‘It’s a fortification that’s constructed in front of a weak spot,’ Thomas explained calmly. ‘Usually in the form of a chevron.’
Don Garcia was quiet for a moment as he collected his thoughts. ‘Every day that the flag of the Order flies over St Elmo is a day that you can use to improve the defences of Birgu and Senglea. If you can only buy enough time for the relief force to gather, or for the campaigning season to come to an end in October, then there’s a chance Malta will remain in our hands.’
‘I will ensure that Malta holds out,’ La Valette said firmly. ‘The Order of St John was cast out of the Holy Land, and then Rhodes. Whatever the odds, we will hold Malta. If not then the Order will perish here. Every one of us is resolved to that end.’
Don Garcia looked at the old knight. ‘A glorious death, eh? Is that what you want?’
‘I am not afraid to die in the service of Christ. I never have been.’
‘Laudable as your devotion to your cause may be, I would strongly advise you to keep yourself from harm’s way as much as possible if the Turks come to Malta.’
La Valette frowned. ‘I will do no such thing.’
‘You must. You are a proud man, I know that. But you must consider the morale of those you command. You are their figurehead, not just their commander. They will look to you and you must appear strong and resolute at all times. If you were wounded, or killed, then the spirit of your men would be greatly harmed. I have been a soldier long enough to know the truth of this. The will to fight is a fickle thing. You know what is riding on the successful defence of this island and I beseech you to put the interests of others before your pride. The Order already faces the gravest of challenges.’
‘Then perhaps you should consider sending me the soldiers I requested from His Majesty. Five thousand men would make a most valuable contribution to the safety of Malta.’
‘I do not have five thousand to spare you. I have little more than that in Sicily as it is. More men are being recruited in Spain and will soon be joining my army. As I said last night, I will send you reinforcements the moment they can be spared, but you must be patient.’
‘Patient?’ La Valette repeated bitterly. ‘For months I have been sending you and the King details of what our spies have observed in the shipyards and arsenals of the enemy and you have done nothing but make ships and sit in your castles in Spain and wait for the enemy to come. I tell you, he is coming here, and it is here that the fate of the Order and the rest of Christendom will be decided.’
‘You may well be right, but I have my orders and my own responsibilities. However, I will request the King’s permission to send you a thousand of my best soldiers from Sicily, and I will do what I can to send further reinforcements as soon as possible.’
La Valette looked directly at the Spanish commander. ‘And I have your word on this?’
Don Garcia’s expression darkened at this attack on his honour. He bit back on his anger and replied in a flat voice, ‘Better, I will leave my son here with you as a token of my promise.’
‘Your son?’
Don Garcia looked round and called Fadrique forward. He rested his hand on his son’s shoulder. ‘Do you agree to this?’
The young Spaniard could hardly do otherwise but it was clear from his expression that he welcomed the prospect of making his stand before the enemy onslaught.
He cleared his throat. ‘It would be an honour to fight with the knights of the Order of St John, sir.’
‘There.’ Don Garcia turned his attention back to the Grand Master. ‘You can see, I place the highest value on this fortress holding out against the Turks. I invest my own blood in this island, alongside you and your men.’
La Valette nodded and Thomas saw the respect in his expression. ‘Very well. I am certain that your son will do honour to your family. I am pleased to have him fight at my side.’
‘Good.’ Don Garcia regarded his son for a moment and then patted his cheek tenderly before he let his hand drop. ‘Grand Master, there are two other matters I would raise with you before I am done here and must leave. Firstly, you will need a council of advisers to help you plan your defence of the island. I know that the Order has a ruling body, under your command. But it is too large, too unwieldy and too prone to dissent. You must keep your council as small as possible and there must never be any sign of division amongst you. If anything happens to you, then a member of the council must take over at once. Therefore you must choose men whose leadership will be accepted by your soldiers as willingly as they accept yours.’
The Grand Master pursed his lips briefly and nodded. ‘Very well. And what is the other matter?’
Don Garcia turned and pointed across the harbour to the Order’s galleys riding at anchor below the battlements of St Angelo. ‘Your ships will be vulnerable if they remain here. They will not be able to serve you if the Turks lay siege to Malta. It would be better if you were to place them under my command. The Turks have a powerful fleet and I need every galley I can find if I am to confront them.’
‘My galleys are staying here,’ La Valette said firmly.
‘Why?’
‘We need them.’
‘For what purpose? What good are they to you if Malta is besieged?’
‘I need them to guard the supply ships that are bringing food, arms and men in, and evacuating those who wish to leave before the Turks arrive. There are still plenty of corsairs hunting for prey. If you take my galleys you will leave the cargo vessels without protection.’
‘I can provide you with galleys to patrol the seaways for as long as possible.’
‘Why would I need your patrols if I can use my own warships?’
Don Garcia’s eyes narrowed. ‘This would have nothing to do with the fact that the two finest galleys happen to be your personal property, would it?’ He lowered his voice. ‘We must all make sacrifices for the common good. We cannot allow personal interests to stand in the way of reason, Grand Master.’
‘It is with reason that I speak,’ La Valette protested. ‘Without our galleys the Order is powerless. But if you think my argument is partial, then let us seek a more detached opinion.’ The Grand Master turned. ‘What is your opinion, Sir Thomas?’
‘Why ask him?’ objected Don Garcia. ‘He is a member of your Order. His opinion is prejudiced.’