a formidable platform for cannon, men, and supplies. This ship had previously been the Mogarbina , captured from the Egyptian Mamelukes in 1507 at a battle near Candia in Crete. The treasure on board alone had been worth the fight. She was longer and sleeker than the old round ships, and had four tall masts with square rigged sails. A large cabin, perched high in the stern, served as both meeting room and captain’s quarters. Her new powerful cannons could reach out and destroy whole cities while staying out of range of shore batteries. She could carry a crew of over two hundred fighting men. The Sancta Maria was a machine of war.
Philippe nodded as he remembered how powerful his new ship really was. He quickly stepped into the small tender waiting at the dock. As the band of knights rowed into the darkness, he breathedeasier than he had since he left Paris nearly five days before. The departure from Paris was so fast…so painful. He had no time to do what needed to be done. Never enough time, he thought.
The summons had been delivered to Philippe in Paris by two of the Knights Hospitaller of St. John, who had been dispatched from the island fortress of Rhodes by the Grand Council. The note informed Philippe that the Council had elected him Grand Master of the Knights of St. John on Rhodes. The former Grand Master, Fabrizio del Caretto, had died eight months earlier, in January, after a long illness. The letter went on to warn Philippe of several problems he would have to face in very short order. “The election was not easy, my Lord,” the note read. “Of the three candidates, you and Thomas Docwra of England were separated by only one vote. And while Thomas Docwra took his defeat with the equanimity and nobility expected of a Knight of the Order of St. John, the third candidate—Chancellor Andrea d’Amaral—did not.”
Philippe realized that this was, indeed, a serious matter. D’Amaral was an arrogant and difficult leader, immensely unpopular even among his own men.
The letter went on, “To make matters worse, d’Amaral did not receive a single vote, and has retired to his quarters at the Inn of Aragon, where I understand he is brooding over this perceived insult.”
D’Amaral was Portuguese by birth, and his relationship with the French-born Philippe was tenuous at best. Most of the time it was intensely hostile. As Chancellor and head of the langue of Spain, d’Amaral wielded much power. His anger and pouting could do a great deal of harm to the unity of the knights.
Philippe had just turned fifty-eight years old when he was summoned back to Rhodes. He was a big man, over six feet and nearly two hundred pounds. He was well muscled, and wore a full, white beard. His silver hair made him look older than he was, but the rigorous physical conditioning of the knights kept him fit and active. His face was distinguished by high cheekbones, and a sharp, aquiline nose. He moved with a gracefulness unexpected of such a large man, and his quick reflexes had been finely tuned after decades of fighting alongside his brother knights. He wore his long,scarlet cloak with the white, eight-pointed cross of the Knights of St. John over the left breast, and another cross in the center of the back. He carried his broadsword in the leather belt at his left side, handle tilted forward, always within easy reach of his right hand.
From the earliest days of the crusades, the Knights of St. John had established fortifications at several places along the Middle East and Asia Minor. Their mission was to provide food and shelter for pilgrims to the Holy Land, as well as hospitals for the sick. During the five centuries of the Crusades, the Muslims had driven them from one stronghold to another in the Holy Land. Their worst defeats came after long and costly battles all along the Mediterranean coast, at Jerusalem in 1187, at Krak de Chevaliers in 1271, and then again in 1291 at St. Jean d’Acre, when they were driven from their
Philippe nodded as he remembered how powerful his new ship really was. He quickly stepped into the small tender waiting at the dock. As the band of knights rowed into the darkness, he breathedeasier than he had since he left Paris nearly five days before. The departure from Paris was so fast…so painful. He had no time to do what needed to be done. Never enough time, he thought.
The summons had been delivered to Philippe in Paris by two of the Knights Hospitaller of St. John, who had been dispatched from the island fortress of Rhodes by the Grand Council. The note informed Philippe that the Council had elected him Grand Master of the Knights of St. John on Rhodes. The former Grand Master, Fabrizio del Caretto, had died eight months earlier, in January, after a long illness. The letter went on to warn Philippe of several problems he would have to face in very short order. “The election was not easy, my Lord,” the note read. “Of the three candidates, you and Thomas Docwra of England were separated by only one vote. And while Thomas Docwra took his defeat with the equanimity and nobility expected of a Knight of the Order of St. John, the third candidate—Chancellor Andrea d’Amaral—did not.”
Philippe realized that this was, indeed, a serious matter. D’Amaral was an arrogant and difficult leader, immensely unpopular even among his own men.
The letter went on, “To make matters worse, d’Amaral did not receive a single vote, and has retired to his quarters at the Inn of Aragon, where I understand he is brooding over this perceived insult.”
D’Amaral was Portuguese by birth, and his relationship with the French-born Philippe was tenuous at best. Most of the time it was intensely hostile. As Chancellor and head of the langue of Spain, d’Amaral wielded much power. His anger and pouting could do a great deal of harm to the unity of the knights.
Philippe had just turned fifty-eight years old when he was summoned back to Rhodes. He was a big man, over six feet and nearly two hundred pounds. He was well muscled, and wore a full, white beard. His silver hair made him look older than he was, but the rigorous physical conditioning of the knights kept him fit and active. His face was distinguished by high cheekbones, and a sharp, aquiline nose. He moved with a gracefulness unexpected of such a large man, and his quick reflexes had been finely tuned after decades of fighting alongside his brother knights. He wore his long,scarlet cloak with the white, eight-pointed cross of the Knights of St. John over the left breast, and another cross in the center of the back. He carried his broadsword in the leather belt at his left side, handle tilted forward, always within easy reach of his right hand.
From the earliest days of the crusades, the Knights of St. John had established fortifications at several places along the Middle East and Asia Minor. Their mission was to provide food and shelter for pilgrims to the Holy Land, as well as hospitals for the sick. During the five centuries of the Crusades, the Muslims had driven them from one stronghold to another in the Holy Land. Their worst defeats came after long and costly battles all along the Mediterranean coast, at Jerusalem in 1187, at Krak de Chevaliers in 1271, and then again in 1291 at St. Jean d’Acre, when they were driven from their
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