known. "Though I hasten to add that they're not for hire. Tannhauser hasn't taken Holy Orders and in his shoes, well, if the man has a taste for women-and good taste, mind-it's not something I'd hold against him."
"Thank you," said La Valette. "I won't."
Le Mas closed the door behind him and La Valette took to his chair and tented his fingers. "Tannhauser. It's not a noble name."
To be considered for entry as a Knight of the Order of Saint John, a man had to prove sixteen quarterings of nobility in his bloodline. It was a concept in which the Grand Master placed great faith.
Starkey said, "Tannhauser is a nom de guerre-borrowed from a German legend, I believe-which he took while serving Alva in the Franco-Spanish wars."
"If Tannhauser spent thirteen years in the Lions of Islam he knows more about our enemy-his tactics, his formations, his moods, his morale-than anyone in our camp. I want him here in Malta-for the siege."
Starkey was taken aback. "Fra Jean, why would he care to join us?"
"Giovanni Castrucco sails for Messina at noon, on the
Couronne
."
"Tannhauser will not be persuaded by Castrucco."
"Quite," said La Valette. "You will go with him. When Castrucco returns, you'll bring this German janissary back to Malta."
"But I'd be gone for five days-I have innumerable duties here-"
"We will survive your absence."
"Tannhauser wouldn't join us if we dragged him here in chains."
"Then devise another way."
"Why is he so important?"
"Perhaps he is not. But even so."
La Valette stood up. He walked back to the map and scanned the terrain that thousands would soon contest with their lives. "This battle for our Holy Religion will not be won or lost by some great stroke," he said. "There will be no brilliant and decisive maneuver, no Achilleus or Hektor, no Samson with the jawbone of an ass. Such tales are constructions of hindsight. There will only be a multitude of smaller strokes, by a multitude of lesser heroes-our men, our women, our children-none of whom will know the final outcome, and few of whom will even live to see it."
For the first time Starkey saw something like dread in La Valette's eyes.
"The flux in God's crucible is infinite in possibility, and in that final outcome only God will know who it was that tipped the balance: be it the knight who died in the breach, or the water boy who slaked his thirst, or the baker who made his bread, or the bee that stung the foeman in the eye. That is how finely the scales of war are weighted. That's why I want Tannhauser. For his knowledge, for his sword, for his love of the Turk or his hatred, either one."
"Forgive me, Fra Jean, but I assure you, Tannhauser will not come."
"Does Lady Carla still plague us with her letters?"
Starkey blinked at this non sequitur and at the triviality of its subject. "The Countess of Penautier? Yes, she still writes-the woman doesn't know the meaning of refusal-but why?"
"Use her as your lever."
"Against Tannhauser?"
"The man likes women," said La Valette. "Let him like this one."
"I've never met the countess," protested Starkey.
"In her youth she possessed a great beauty, which I'm sure the years have done little or nothing to dim."
"That may well be, but at the very least she's a woman of noble birth and Tannhauser is, well, a near barbarian-"
La Valette's expression forestalled all further discussion.
"You will sail on the
Couronne
. You will bring Tannhauser back to Malta."
La Valette took Starkey's arm and walked him to the door.
"Send in the Inquisitor as you leave."
Starkey blinked. "I'm not to be privy to your conference?"
"Ludovico will be faring with you on the
Couronne
." La Valette observed his confusion and essayed a rare smile. "Fra Oliver, know that you are dearly beloved."
In the antechamber outside, Ludovico Ludovici, judge and jurist of the Sacred Congregation of the Inquisition, fingered his rosary with the blameless impassivity of an icon. He returned Starkey's look without expression and for a
"Thank you," said La Valette. "I won't."
Le Mas closed the door behind him and La Valette took to his chair and tented his fingers. "Tannhauser. It's not a noble name."
To be considered for entry as a Knight of the Order of Saint John, a man had to prove sixteen quarterings of nobility in his bloodline. It was a concept in which the Grand Master placed great faith.
Starkey said, "Tannhauser is a nom de guerre-borrowed from a German legend, I believe-which he took while serving Alva in the Franco-Spanish wars."
"If Tannhauser spent thirteen years in the Lions of Islam he knows more about our enemy-his tactics, his formations, his moods, his morale-than anyone in our camp. I want him here in Malta-for the siege."
Starkey was taken aback. "Fra Jean, why would he care to join us?"
"Giovanni Castrucco sails for Messina at noon, on the
Couronne
."
"Tannhauser will not be persuaded by Castrucco."
"Quite," said La Valette. "You will go with him. When Castrucco returns, you'll bring this German janissary back to Malta."
"But I'd be gone for five days-I have innumerable duties here-"
"We will survive your absence."
"Tannhauser wouldn't join us if we dragged him here in chains."
"Then devise another way."
"Why is he so important?"
"Perhaps he is not. But even so."
La Valette stood up. He walked back to the map and scanned the terrain that thousands would soon contest with their lives. "This battle for our Holy Religion will not be won or lost by some great stroke," he said. "There will be no brilliant and decisive maneuver, no Achilleus or Hektor, no Samson with the jawbone of an ass. Such tales are constructions of hindsight. There will only be a multitude of smaller strokes, by a multitude of lesser heroes-our men, our women, our children-none of whom will know the final outcome, and few of whom will even live to see it."
For the first time Starkey saw something like dread in La Valette's eyes.
"The flux in God's crucible is infinite in possibility, and in that final outcome only God will know who it was that tipped the balance: be it the knight who died in the breach, or the water boy who slaked his thirst, or the baker who made his bread, or the bee that stung the foeman in the eye. That is how finely the scales of war are weighted. That's why I want Tannhauser. For his knowledge, for his sword, for his love of the Turk or his hatred, either one."
"Forgive me, Fra Jean, but I assure you, Tannhauser will not come."
"Does Lady Carla still plague us with her letters?"
Starkey blinked at this non sequitur and at the triviality of its subject. "The Countess of Penautier? Yes, she still writes-the woman doesn't know the meaning of refusal-but why?"
"Use her as your lever."
"Against Tannhauser?"
"The man likes women," said La Valette. "Let him like this one."
"I've never met the countess," protested Starkey.
"In her youth she possessed a great beauty, which I'm sure the years have done little or nothing to dim."
"That may well be, but at the very least she's a woman of noble birth and Tannhauser is, well, a near barbarian-"
La Valette's expression forestalled all further discussion.
"You will sail on the
Couronne
. You will bring Tannhauser back to Malta."
La Valette took Starkey's arm and walked him to the door.
"Send in the Inquisitor as you leave."
Starkey blinked. "I'm not to be privy to your conference?"
"Ludovico will be faring with you on the
Couronne
." La Valette observed his confusion and essayed a rare smile. "Fra Oliver, know that you are dearly beloved."
In the antechamber outside, Ludovico Ludovici, judge and jurist of the Sacred Congregation of the Inquisition, fingered his rosary with the blameless impassivity of an icon. He returned Starkey's look without expression and for a
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