Unfortunately, the sun would not stay in the sky for our attack. As the sun set, we were coming up into the roadstead and the king was unwilling to try the anchorage in the dark. So the Alexandrines saw us, and all chance of surprise was lost.
At last light, King Peter summoned all the admirals to him. While they were meeting, I received word from Fra William that I was wanted on the Hospitaller galley, and the Venetians rowed me across to the turcopolier with great willingness.
The sun was going down in the west, a great red ball, and the temperature was perfect, neither too warm nor too cold. The stars were just coming out, and the muezzein’s calls filled the air — alongside alarm bells and gongs and the cries of soldiers which carried across the water as if they were on the next ship.
I climbed the ladder and was taken on to the command deck.
Father Pierre stood with Fra William and Fra Peter — and Sabraham.
I bowed, knelt, and kissed my lord’s ring. He hugged me. ‘So far away!’ he said.
‘We can’t all ride the same galley,’ I said.
Fra William was leaning his great bulk against the stern rail. He pointed over the water at Pharos Castle. ‘I see Sabraham was not lying about that pile of stone,’ he said.
Sabraham shrugged. ‘I wish I was,’ he said.
Father Pierre looked at the great sweep of the city. Alexandria is almost flat; there are two low hills in the middle, rocks, really, and it is almost three Italian miles across — honestly, it takes your breath away, it is so huge. He was shaking his head.
‘Every time I look, it terrifies me,’ he said. ‘It is bigger than Rome.’
We all looked.
Father Pierre shook his head again. ‘We are committed to this attack. The crusaders cannot remain in the boats.’
I bowed again. ‘My lord, it is not too late to land east of the city.’
Fra William shook his head. ‘The problem is not laying a siege. We lack the men, the artillery and the provisions to lay a siege. Let us be frank. For six months this expedition has been patched together and patched together again, one patch on top of another until the whole is like a frayed old garment and we have never met the enemy.’
Fra Peter smiled, but to me, in the red light, he looked old, tired, and angry. ‘It is no fault of ours. It is a miracle that we are here at all.’
Fra Robert frowned. ‘It might be better if we were not here. There are a hundred Knights of the Order in these ships. We have not set a hundred of our brethren ashore in Outremer for twenty years, to say nothing of the soldiers and turcopoles. The cost is staggering, and it will hurt us for another twenty years.’
Father Pierre shook his head. ‘Mes amis, let us pray,’ he said. And we knelt on the deck and prayed. When we were done, he rose, and blessed us. ‘That is my contribution,’ he said. ‘The king is determined to land in the Old Port and attempt the gate of the old castle. His reports make it the weakest.’ He looked at us. ‘I leave it to you gentlemen to see if there is another path to victory.’
And then he left us.
It was, perhaps, an odd performance, but he was not a soldier; in fact, he wore no armour and he never meddled in our councils except to aid us. He was, as I have said a thousand times, an exceptional man.
When his head vanished into the stern cabin, the turcopolier nodded to Sabraham. ‘I’m eager to hear any ideas you may have.’
Fra Peter looked at me. ‘Or you. You have seen a great deal of war, Sir William.’
I shook my head. ‘It’s Florence all over again, isn’t it, my lords? We have a tiny army, and even if we could defeat the enemy …’
Fra Peter nodded. ‘Perhaps that makes you our expert, then,’ he said.
We discussed and discarded various plans. I stopped suggesting that we make our landing up the coast where I had reconnoitred a camp. The turcopolier’s statement was too true to deny — we lacked the men to lay a proper siege. There was no point to making a camp so far from the walls that men would wear themselves out walking back and forth. Of course, in Italy, we did just that, but we rode everywhere. And our ‘sieges’ were mostly raids.
The sun set, and the warm red light stayed only on the towers of the city and the fortress of Pharos.
‘They’re winding a machine on the fortress,’ Sabraham said.
We watched them wind it. It was three-quarters of a mile way, and the last light showed it plainly.
‘The machines are new,’ I guessed. ‘The captain of the fortress wants to test his range.’
While we watched, the gate of the fortress opened and a column of cavalry appeared like a black worm spitting out of the fortress mouth and it wound and uncurled along the road over the neck of land from the main walls. The men must have been on horseback for they moved fast.
‘He’s ready to cast,’ Sabraham said. ‘Watch for the fall of the shot.’
It was almost dead calm. The fall of the stone from the machine vanished into the water, and we didn’t see it. Three-quarters of a mile is just too far.
I pointed at the column of cavalry. ‘That must be a goodly portion of the Pharos garrison,’ I said.
The turcopolier nodded. ‘You think we could take the fortress by escalade?’ he asked.
I shrugged. ‘I’ve known it done.’
When the admiral returned, we had the beginning of a plan. Which is to say we had an idea.
The old Savoyard pursed his lips and stared at our model of the shore and our fortress and it’s outpost, the Casteleto on the opposite spit. He looked very serious indeed, but he kept his council and allowed us to take Brother Robert and his galliot.
By moonlight, we were rowed across the entrance to the new harbour. We stayed well out of bowshot, but Brother Robert was willing to risk the machines in the citadel.
‘In the dark?’ he asked. ‘No. God is not going to let my poor ship take a stone from heathens in the dark.’
When we reached a certain point, our rowers were ordered by whispers to cease rowing. We rocked in the very gentle swell. There was almost no wind, almost no waves, and we could hear everything.
We listened and listened. We heard very little besides gulls and two women having an argument. Sabraham translated some of the choicer moments.
‘It can be done,’ I said.
Sabraham, for once, looked unsure.
‘Now,’ I said.
‘And this is your idea,’ Nerio said.
‘All mine,’ I muttered.
All of the Order’s volunteers, as well as a dozen of the English crusaders who were in the turcopolier’s galley and another dozen Gascons from the admiral’s galley were with me. To top it all, I had Chretien d’Albret and his retinue of French and Gascons and Savoyards. I should have wondered why he was following me, but at the time I was merely delighted to have some crusaders to add to my assault.
And most of them, especially the Gascons, had done this before.
We stripped all of the Order’s galleys of their stern ladders and the carpenters pegged them together.
None of us wore any harness.
Nor did we carry any weapons but our swords and daggers. I put the Emperor’s sword naked through my belt and left the scabbard for another day.
It is difficult to prepare for a fight in full darkness. At least we didn’t have to arm, or get at our horses. We had eighty men-at-arms — a pitiful number against the city of Alexandria.
The admiral brought us all the lanterns of the galley, and we used them to prepare, and then we swiped lamp-black off the insides and used it and the lids from the small cook pots to blacken our faces.
‘Go with God, messires,’ he said. ‘If you succeed, it will be a great deed.’
‘And you may save the crusade,’ Sir Robert Hales breathed.
‘The king’s attack goes in at first light,’ the admiral continued.
The legate came on deck and blessed us. We gathered with our blackened faces and all our fears on the corsia, the gangway amidships, and Father Pierre passed along, blessing every man. Many he confessed. It took time I didn’t feel we had, and my heart was in my mouth, so much so that I couldn’t breathe, and when Father Pierre reached me, I could barely speak.