The Knight of Malta

“What do you want?” said the commander to him.

“Order this man to retire, monseigneur; your ears alone should hear what my lips will say.”

“You are very impudent,” replied Pierre de Anbiez, looking at Hadji, sharply.

Then he added, addressing Captain Hugues: “Leave us – go away.”

“Alone with this robber, M. Commander?”

“We are three,” said Pierre des Anbiez, pointing to his arms hanging on the wall.

“Do you take me, then, for an assassin?” said Hadji, with scorn.

The artillery officer shrugged his shoulders, and went out with evident regret, although the tall stature and robust figure of the commander, compared to the slender proportions of the Bohemian, ought to have reassured him.

“Speak, as I do not wish to have you crucified yet at the prow of my galley,” said Pierre des Anbiez to the Bohemian.

The latter, with his accustomed insolence, replied: “When my hour comes it shall find me. Pog-Reis, captain of the Red Galleon, sends me to you, monseigneur. It was he who attacked La Ciotat that night; it is he certainly who has Reine des Anbiez in his power.”

“Enough, enough, wretch, do not boast longer of your crimes, or I will have your tongue torn out! What have you come to demand? I am eager to chastise your accomplices and make a terrible example of them. If you come to speak of favour and ransom, hear well what fate awaits you and yours; let them try to defend themselves or not, they shall all be carried in chains to La Ciotat, and burned in the middle of the town hall square. Do you understand clearly?”

“I understand clearly,” said the Bohemian, with imperturbable coolness. “Pog-Reis will not object to your burning his crew.”

“What do you mean? That he will deliver his accomplices to me, if I grant him his life? It is natural that barbarity like his should hide an ignoble cowardice. If that is his opinion, I am of another mind. The two captains of the galleys and you, all three shall be quartered before being burned, even if you deliver to me your accomplices bound hand and foot, to receive the punishment they deserve. So, go at once, and tell that to your confederates. Go! my blood boils when I think of that unfortunate city and my brother! Go! I do not wish to soil my hands with the blood of a bandit, and I wish you to warn your associates of the fate which awaits them!”

“I had nothing to do with the massacre in the city, monseigneur.”

“Will you finish?”

“Ah, well, monseigneur, Pog-Reis and the other captain propose a single combat to you and one of your chevaliers, two against two, with the Spanish sword and dagger. If he is killed, you will attack his galleys afterward, and easily capture them, as there will then be two bodies without a head. If you are killed, your lieutenant will attack the galleys of Pog-Reis. The desire to avenge your death will give new zeal to your soldiers, and no doubt they will offer Pog-Reis and his crew as a holocaust to your ghost. That need not change your plans in the least; only the captain of the Red Galleon will find himself face to face with the captain of the black galley. The tiger and the lion can thus defy each other.”

The commander listened to this proposition, as insolent as it was unheard of, in silence and astonishment.

When the Bohemian ceased talking, Pierre des Anbiez, in his wrath, could not resist seizing him by the throat, and crying: “What! you wretch, is that the message with which you are charged? You dare propose to me to cross swords with an assassin like Pog-Reis and one of his brigands! By the holy cross!” added the commander, pushing back the Bohemian so violently that he stumbled to the other end of the chamber, “to punish you for your impudence, I shall have you given twenty lashes on the chase-gun before handing you over to execution.”

The Bohemian darted the glance of a tiger at Pierre des Anbiez and gnashed his teeth together in rage, but seeing that he would be at a disadvantage in a contest, he restrained himself and replied: “Pog-Reis, monseigneur, counted on your refusal at first, and, to decide you, he instructed me to inform you that your brother’s daughter was in his power. If you refuse his proposition, if you attack his galleys at once, Reine des Anbiez and all the captives we have taken shall be instantly put to death.”

“Wretch!”

“If, on the contrary, you accept the combat and send your gauntlet as a pledge, Reine des Anbiez will be brought on board your vessel without ransom, as well as the other prisoners that Pog-Reis has taken at La Ciotat.” “I will never make terms with such murderers. Go!” “Think of it, consider it, monseigneur. Pog-Reis, if you attack him, will defend himself vigorously. If he is defeated, he will blow up his ship. You will have neither him nor Reine des Anbiez nor the other captives, while by accepting this single combat you can return the young girl to her father, and the captives to their city.”

“Be silent!” said the commander, who could not help reflecting that this proposition had its advantage, notwithstanding its audacious insolence.

“Finally,” said Hadji, as if he had guarded this last consideration as the most decisive, “a mysterious spirit wishes the combat that Pog-Reis proposes to you. Yes, this morning, after the attack on La Ciotat, Pog-Reis, exhausted by fatigue, fell asleep and had a dream. A voice said to him that a single combat between him and a soldier of the cross to-day would expiate a great crime.”

These last words of the Bohemian struck the commander, and he started. Already he believed, in the intensity of his remorse, that his crime had brought upon his family the frightful evils which had befallen it. When he heard Hadji speak of the expiation of a great crime, he believed âiat the will of Heaven had been declared in these words, uttered by chance.

“What dream? what dream? speak,” said he to the Bohemian, in a hollow voice, as he was seized by a secret terror.

“What matters the dream to you, monseigneur?”

“Speak, I tell you, speak!”

“Pog-Reis was transported into the region of visions,” replied Hadji, with an Oriental emphasis. “He heard the voice of the spirit. It said to him, ‘Look!’ and he saw a woman in a coffin, and that woman had been pierced to the heart and her wound was bleeding. And near the dead woman Pog-Reis beheld the vision of a soldier of Christ, – that vision was you!”

“I! I!” cried the commander, petrified with astonishment.

“You!” said Hadji, restraining his joy, for he saw that this story, prepared by Pog-Reis, accomplished the desire of the pirate.

Pog, – the Count de Montreuil, – judging of the religious character of the commander by the letters which the Bohemian had stolen from the watchman’s cabin, did not doubt that Pierre des Anbiez would be impressed by this dream, and thus be induced to decide in favour of the combat. The commander was all the more impressed by this account of the dream, inasmuch as he believed his crime had never been discovered.

“Ah, God wishes it, God wishes it,” murmured he, in a low voice.

The Bohemian continued without appearing to hear him: “The spirit said to Pog, ‘Tomorrow you will fight this soldier of Christ, one to one, and a great crime will be expiated.’ Pog-Reis has committed great crimes, monseigneur, he has never felt remorse, the revelation of the spirit has touched him, and he wishes to obey it. He offers you combat. Take care not to refuse it. Christian, the God of all sends his dreams to all indiscriminately. It is by dreams that he declares his will. Perhaps, he chooses you, holy man, as an instrument of a great vengeance; you ought to obey. Perhaps in asking combat of you, Pog-Reis asks for death at your hands.”

The astonishment, the terror, of the commander can be comprehended. In these words, he saw a divine revelation; he thought he heard the voice of the Lord commanding this expiation, and, contrary to the prediction of the Bohemian, believed that the anger of Heaven had decreed himself to be the victim which should fall under the blows of Pog.

Finally, in accepting the combat, he assured the rescue of Reine des Anbiez; he would return a daughter to her father, and prisoners to their weeping families, – a last proof that divine justice desired to strike him alone, since it offered him the means of repairing the evils his crime had called down upon his own.

When we reflect that the constant remorse of Pierre des Anbiez, while it did not impair his reason, had predisposed him to a sort of religious fatalism by no means orthodox, but calculated to make a deep impression upon his earnest and gloomy nature, we may comprehend the crushing effect produced on him by the language of Hadji.

After a moment’s silence, he said to the Bohemian,

“Go up on deck, I will give you my orders.”

Then he sent for the overseer, and commanded him to conduct Hadji on deck, to watch over him, and to take him under his protection.

CHAPTER XL. THE CHALLENGE

The commander sent for the chaplain of the black galley to descend into his chamber. While Pierre des Anbiez confessed his sins, – with the exception of the murder reserved for the great act of penitence of the order, – and received absolution, the Bohemian went up on deck. The first person whom he met there was the captain of the Holy Terror to the Moors, by the Grace of God.

Hadji, affecting an easy and impertinent familiarity, approached Luquin Trinquetaille and said to him: “Who would have believed, my boy, that we would see each other again here, when that pretty girl enraged you so much by giving me flame-coloured ribbons at Maison-Forte?”

This excess of impudence rendered the worthy captain speechless a moment, then, putting his hand on his sword, he was about to attack Hadji, when the overseer reminded him that the Bohemian was under his protection by order of the commander.

“There is another place where we will meet, you villain,” said Luquin, “and that will be under the gallows where you will be hanged; for, zounds! although the office of executioner is repugnant to me, I would sell my polacre even to have the right to put the rope around your neck.”

“Ingrate, you do not think of the grief you would bring upon Stephanette; the poor girl loves me so much that she would die of sorrow to see me hanged, and especially by you.”

“You lie, you lie like a dog. Oh, that I could tear your cursed tongue out by the roots!”

“You would be right, my boy, to tear out my tongue, for it was my honeyed words which opened the way to this pretty girl’s heart A little while ago, on board my chebec where she was with me, she said, as she leaned her head on my shoulder – ”

“You lie, you blaspheme!” cried Luquin, in fury.

“She said, as she leaned her head on my shoulder,” continued the Bohemian, with imperturbable coolness, “‘What a difference, my handsome captain, between your gallant and charming language, and the tiresome twittering of that long-legged heron that flutters around me so clumsily.’ That is the way she spoke of you, my poor boy.”

“Here, overseer,” exclaimed Luquin, pale with rage, “permit me to cut this villain’s face with a few blows of my sabre scabbard.”

“If his words wound you, do not listen to them,” answered the overseer. “The commander entrusted this pagan to me, and I cannot permit any one to do him harm.”

Luquin uttered a groan of concentrated wrath.

“After all,” continued the Bohemian, with a disdain-ful self-conceit, “that girl is rather good-looking, but you have made her so silly, my boy, that the conversation I had with her yesterday was enough to take away any desire to continue the interview. You can marry her when you please, my boy, only when you see her look sad, you need only mention my name to make her smile tenderly, since the memory of me will live in her heart eternally. Poor girl, she told me so yesterday as she kissed my hand as if I had been a lord.”

The indignant Luquin could hear no more. Shaking his fists at the Bohemian, he turned away abruptly, followed by the derisive laugh of the vagabond.

As we have said, the sun was just sinking and the sea was calm. In the distance, between two points of the rocks at the depth of the bay, could be seen the Red Galleon and the galley of Trimalcyon anchored near each other, while not far from them lay the chebec of Hadji.

The boat which had brought Hadji balanced on the waves, fastened to the stem of the black galley. The sky was clear, with the exception of a belt of reddish gray clouds around the setting sun.

Captain Hugues, the artilleryman, approached the overseer who guarded the Bohemian, and said to him, as he shook his head and pointed to the west:

“Brother, I do not like those clouds which are gathering down there, they are threatening, we are in a dead calm. If the sun, as it sets, scatters these clouds, the night will be beautiful; if, on the contrary, the cloud covers the sun before it sets – ”

“I understand you, Brother Hugues, we will have a shift of the wind, a hurricane, and the night will be bad,” replied the overseer. “Fortunately, we have time yet.” And, turning to Hadji, he said, “Little it matters to you or to yours to be hanged in a storm or a calm.”

“I prefer to be hanged in a storm, overseer; the wind rocks you like a cradle, and you fall asleep sooner in eternity,” replied Hadji, with a disdainful indifference.

The commander appeared on deck. The assembled chevaliers separated and respectfully made way for him. Pierre des Anbiez was dressed entirely in black. His face seemed paler and more sad than usual. At his side he wore a heavy iron sword, and a long dagger in its bronze scabbard; on his right hand he wore a glove of black buffalo skin, his left hand was naked. He made a sign to the Bohemian and threw down before him his left gauntlet. Hadji picked it up and was about to speak, when the commander, with an imperious gesture, showed him the boat which had brought him to the galley. Hadji descended and embarked, and was soon on his way to the vessels of the pirates.

Astonished at the commander’s action, the chevaliers and Honorât de Berrol, who was among them, looked at each other in surprise. The commander followed the Bohemian’s departing boat with his eyes, then, turning to the group around him, said, in a loud voice:

“Brothers, in a little while we will attack the galleys of these miscreants; they are anchored near each other. The long-boat will be put to sea, half the soldiers will descend into it, and, while the black galley attacks the Red Galleon, the long-boat will attack the other pirate vessel.” Then addressing the king of the chevaliers, he continued: “You will command the black galley, brother, and the Brother de Blinville, the oldest lieutenant of the galley, will command the long-boat. Now, overseer, strokesman, all, ply your oars! the sun is setting and only an hour of daylight is left us to chastise these miscreants.”

Although the chevaliers had not understood why Pierre des Anbiez abandoned the command of the black galley and the long-boat, they hastened to execute his orders.

A part of the crew, well armed, embarked in the longboat of the galley, which was put to sea under the orders of the Chevalier de Blinville, and the two vessels, with full force of oars, directed their course toward the entrance of the bay.

The commander having ordered Captain Trinquetaille to remain on board the galley, the polacre was directed by the second in command, and followed the black galley’s movements.

Honorât approached the commander, and said: “I wish to fight at your side, M. Commander. Reine des Anbiez was my betrothed. Raimond V. has been a second father to me, and my place should be the post of danger.”

Pierre des Anbiez looked steadily at Honorât, and answered: “It is true, chevalier, you have a double vengeance to wreak upon these robbers. To assure the freedom of Reine, I have consented to fight in single combat with one of the pirate captains. I need a second. Will you accept that duty?”

“You, monsieur, you accede to such a proposition!” cried Honorât, “do such honour to these miscreants!”

“Will you or will you not draw the sword and the dagger when I draw them, young man?” rudely interrupted Pierre des Anbiez.

“I can only be proud to do what you do, M. Commander; my sword is at your orders.”

“Go, then, and arm yourself, and hold yourself in readiness to follow me when I descend.”

After a moment’s silence, he added: “You see that long-boat doubling the point; she will bring on board my galley Reine des Anbiez and the captives from La Ciotat.”

“Reine!” cried Honorât.

“There she is,” said the commander.

In fact, the long-boat of Hadji was rapidly approaching; the Chevalier de Berrol soon recognised Reine, Stephanette, and two other young girls, besides twenty inhabitants of La Ciotat, captured when the pirates made their descent upon the city.

The chevaliers were ignorant of the agreement made between the commander and the Bohemian. They could not understand why the pirates returned their prisoners in this manner.

When the long-boat was within range of the voice, the commander ordered the overseer to lift the galley’s oars and wait for this craft, which soon reached them.

Pierre des Anbiez advanced to the height of the first rower’s seat, and there received his niece, who threw herself in his arms with all the effusion oi affectionate gratitude.

“And my father?” cried the young girl.

“Your return will relieve his anxiety, my child,” replied the commander, who did not wish to inform Reine of her father’s condition.

“Honorât, is it you?” said Reine, extending her hand to the chevalier, whom she did not see at first “Alas! my friend, under what sad circumstances I see you. But who is with my father, pray? Why did you leave him alone?”

“Reine, our aim was to rescue you, and I followed the commander. Father Elzear is at Maison-Forte with Raimond V.”

“But now I am free, will you not return with me to my father?”

“Return with you? No, Reine, I must remain with the commander. To-morrow, no doubt, I will see you. I bid you a tender farewell, Reine. Farewell, farewell.”

“With what a serious air you bid me farewell, Honorât,” cried the young girl, struck with the chevalier’s solemn expression. “But there is no danger, they will not attack the pirates; what good can be done by remaining here?”

“No, doubtless they will not fight,” said Honorât, with embarrassment “The commander only wishes to assure the departure of these wretches.”

Pierre des Anbiez, having given his orders, approached Reine and took her by the hand, as he said: “Come, hasten, my child; embark at once, the sun is sinking. Luquin Trinquetaille will take you on board his polacre, and before to-morrow morning you will be in the arms of your father.”

Then addressing the captain of the Holy Terror to the Moors, who was darting furious glances at the Bohemian because this vagabond never took his eyes from Stephanette, and affected to speak to her in a low voice, the commander said: “With your life you will answer for Mlle, des Anbiez. Depart this instant. Conduct her to Maison-Forte with the other young girls and her attendant. The men will remain and reinforce the crew of my galley. Come, farewell, Reine, embrace me, my child; say to my brothers that I hope to take them by the hand to-morrow.”

“You hope, uncle, – pray, what danger is there?”

“The sun is setting, embark at once,” said the commander, without replying to the question of his niece, as he led her to the boat which was to conduct her to the polacre.

While Reine exchanged a last look with Honorât, the Bohemian, still insolent and satirical, approached Luquin, holding Stephanette’s hand in spite of her resistance, and said to him: “I give you this pretty girl, my boy; marry her in all confidence. Alas! my poor little thing, I must resign you. I will remember all your tenderness.”

“What! my tenderness!” cried Stephanette, indignant.

“It is true we agreed to say nothing about it before this cormorant.”

“Luquin, to your boat!” cried the commander, in an imperious voice.

The worthy captain was compelled to swallow this new insult, and to descend in haste to his boat in order to receive there Mlle. des Anbiez.

Five minutes after the polacre, commanded by Luquin, set sail for Maison-Forte, bearing Reine, Stephanette, and two other young girls so miraculously saved from the fate which threatened them.

When the polacre had departed, the Bohemian approached the commander respectfully, and said:

“Pog-Reis has kept his word, monseigneur.”

“I will keep mine. Go, wait for me in your longboat.”

The Bohemian bowed and left the galley.

Pierre des Anbiez said to the Chevalier de Blinville, who was to command the galley in his absence:

“The hour-glass is full; in a half-hour, if I do not return on board, you are to enter the bay and attack the pirates according to the orders which I have given to you; the black galley will fight the Red Galleon, and the boat will fight the other vessel.”

“Shall we begin the attack without waiting for you, M. Commander?” repeated the lieutenant, thinking he had not understood the instructions.

“You will begin the attack without waiting for me, if I do not return in a half-hour,” replied the commander, in a firm voice. One of his men brought to him his hat and large black mantle, on which was quartered the white cross of his order. He then left the galley, followed by Honorât, to the great astonishment of the chevaliers and the crew.

Hadji stood at the helm of the little boat; four Moorish slaves took the oars, and soon the light craft bounded over the swelling waves in the direction of the western point of the bay.

Pierre des Anbiez, wrapped in his mantle, turned his head and threw a last lingering look upon his galley, as if to assure himself of the reality of the events which were taking place. He felt himself dragged, so to speak, by an irresistible force to which he submitted in blind obedience.

After some moments of silence, he said to Hadji: “Where does that man expect me?”

“On the beach, near the ruins of the Abbey of St. Victor, monseigneur.”

“Make your crew row faster, they do not advance,” said Pierre des Anbiez, with feverish impatience.

“The waves are high, the cloud is gathering, and the wind is going to blow; the night will be bad,” said Hadji, in a low voice.

The commander, absorbed in his own thoughts, did not reply to him. The sun’s last rays were soon obscured by a large belt of black clouds, which, at first heavy and motionless upon the horizon, began to move with frightful rapidity. Deep and distant bursts of thunder, a phenomenon quite common during the winter season of Provence, announced one of those sudden hurricanes so frequent in the Mediterranean.

CHAPTER XLI. THE COMBAT

The clouds piled high in the west, spread rapidly over the sky which had been so serene. The increasing murmur of the waves, the plaintive moan of the wind, which was gradually rising, the distant rolling of the thunder, all announced a terrible storm.

The little boat reached the shore, a lonely beach girded by blocks of reddish granite. The commander and Honorât landed, when Hadji, who had preceded them a few steps, stopped and said to Pierre des Anbiez, “Monseigneur, follow this path hollowed out of the rock, and you will soon arrive at the ruins of the Abbey of St. Victor. Pog-Reis awaits you there.”

Without replying to Hadji, Pierre des Anbiez resolutely entered a sort of crevasse formed by a rent in the rock, and scarcely large enough for a man to pass through.

Honorât, not less courageous, followed him, reflecting at the same time that a traitor, placed on the crest of the two rocks between which they rather glided than walked, could easily crush them by rolling upon them some one of the enormous stones which crowned the escarpment. The tempest was gradually approaching. The loud voices of the wind and the sea, which threatened more and more, at last burst forth into fury, and were answered from the height of the clouds by the thunderbolts. The elements had entered upon a tremendous struggle.

The commander walked with long strides. In the violence of the storm he saw an omen; it seemed to him that the vengeance of Heaven clothed itself in a terrible majesty before striking him.