The Knight of Malta

“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 – ”