Authors: Anthony Goodman
“Mustapha Pasha, if I may?” It was Qasim Pasha who spoke.
“Yes, Qasim?”
“There is more worrisome news. We had been told that the knights would stay within the walls, and we would have to bring the fight to them. But, they have—as we expected—sent out small war parties to harass our troops. There have been no real engagements; only small groups of five and ten knights who appear out of the dark, and sweep down upon our soldiers while they unload and store supplies. While our men are working, the knights cut them down with their swords and then disappear again into the bush or hide in the rocks. These small raids have killed more than a hundred of our men already!”
“May Allah have mercy upon them.”
“May He indeed. But, Mustapha Pasha, we have heard talk of mutiny among some of the mercenaries and the irregulars. We need to assign Janissaries to guard the workers, and Sipahis to chase the knights when they strike.”
Piri Pasha broke in. “Indeed. Let that be so. But, let’s not talk of mutiny. If there is dissent, let the officers find the men and have them punished quickly and publicly. A few beheadings in the center
of the camp will stop any mutiny before it goes any further.” The Aghas nodded their agreement, and there was a general murmur of approval. “Furthermore, I think we should risk no more cannon or shot until we are ready for the actual siege. The Sultan has said repeatedly that he wanted to be here in person when the attack begins. Then we can fire sixty or eighty cannons at once, and overwhelm the knights’ pitiful artillery.” Again, the Aghas agreed.
“We will await the orders of the Sultan, himself,” he continued. “In the meanwhile, we will set up his camp out of range of the knights’ guns. There is a villa that the knights abandoned but did not destroy. We will set up the Sultan’s
serai
next to that, and he will decide whether to take over the villa later, or live in his own tent. For now we will deploy the troops in the crescent formation around the city as the Sultan has ordered.”
The Aghas left the tent and returned to their troops as the disembarkation continued. It would last for almost two more weeks.
On July 28th, 1522, the fourth day of Ramadan, Suleiman’s ship dropped anchor in Kallitheas Bay. He was put ashore in a tender and was immediately surrounded by his own battalion of Janissaries, who had arrived with him. Mustapha’s Janissaries waited further up on shore. The Sultan was dressed entirely in white. His high turban had the customary egret’s feathers fixed with a jeweled clasp. The band assembled to greet the Sultan as he took his first steps on the island of Rhodes. Their trumpets, cymbals, and drums sounded as soon as the Sultan stepped onto the beach. Several cannon salvos were fired to salute him, and the Sipahis formed a pathway between their horses.
In full battle gear, Mustapha Pasha waited on the sand for the Sultan. As he moved toward Suleiman, the Janissaries parted to make way for him. Ibrahim was one step behind the Sultan and remained there as Suleiman moved on shore to greet his
Seraskier,
his Commander-in-Chief.
“Mustapha, my brother! You look fit and ready for battle.” Suleiman strode towards his brother-in-law and the two gave each other a hearty hug. “It looks as if you have things well in hand.”
“It is going as planned, my Lord. The troops have debarked and all the equipment has been sorted and stored. This very day the Aghas are deploying in the crescent around the fortress as you prescribed.”
“And where is my Grand Vizier? Where is Piri Pasha?”
“He is preparing for your arrival at the camp, my Lord.”
“Have the knights engaged us as yet?”
Mustapha began to stroke his mustache again, and Suleiman scowled. He knew his brother-in-law’s nervous habits well, and was instantly aware that something was wrong.
“My Lord, for the most part they have stayed within the fortress. All the citizens are within as well. There have been some sorties by small bands of knights harassing our troops. But no big battles as yet.”
“And what of the skirmishes? How did we fare?” Mustapha’s initial enthusiasm had been tempered by reality. He knew now not to deceive his master. “Not well, Majesty. We have lost nearly a hundred men in the first few days. We have killed none.”
Suleiman’s lips tightened. Mustapha had wanted to bring news of Turkish victories, not of these petty deaths in hit-and-run ambush. “There is more, my Lord.”
“Yes?”
“On the first day, we set up cannon at three sites suited for maximum artillery effect. But, as we feared, the knights have sighted the best of the locations.”
“And?”
“And our cannon were destroyed, my Lord. One volley each from the fortress scored direct hits on our batteries. The cannons were shattered and the men killed. A few escaped, but it is clear that we will have a difficult time against this fortress. The knights are skilled and well prepared. The fortress reinforced beyond imagination.”
Suleiman did not answer. All his dreams of arriving in triumph with an overpowering unstoppable force were dwindling before the battle had truly begun. Suleiman did not want to show his anger in front of the parade of Janissaries and Sipahis on the beach, so he kept completely still.
“Majesty, we have eighty more large guns to deploy. I think that when they are in place, and we begin bombardment simultaneously with all our weapons, it will have a devastating effect. The knights are not capable of responding to so many positions firing at them at once.”
Suleiman nodded. He motioned Mustapha to follow him, and then walked the few steps to his waiting horse. The Janissaries and Sipahis quickly formed the ring of protection around the Sultan, and the procession began its march to the encampment some two miles nearer the city.
Mustapha rode at Suleiman’s side. Ibrahim held his position a few steps behind his master. Both Ibrahim’s black charger and Suleiman’s brown one were edgy and difficult to control. After waiting inactively at Marmarice, the seven-hour boat ride did nothing for the horses’ temperaments. They skittered and moved sideways in the sand. Both riders had to rein in tightly to keep the horses on the trail.
The trail from the beach was difficult. There was no direct road from the bay to the city. The party had to cover rough rocky ground over several substantial hills before reaching the main road.
“How far is our camp from the fortress itself, Mustapha?” The Sultan was preoccupied, and seemed to be focusing on controlling his mount.
“It’s over a mile west of the city, my Lord. Well out of range of the knights’ batteries. There is a villa that was not too badly destroyed by the knights. It lies on the slopes of Mount Saint Stephen, and has a view of both the sea as well as the city. It is also well out of range of the knights’ batteries. We have set up your camp there, and repaired most of the damage. But, I thought you would be more comfortable in your own
serai
, rather than in the stinking pigsty used by the knights. There is a villa nearby, abandoned by the Sons of
Sheitan
. They have no sense of cleanliness, my Lord. They live here much as they do in Europe. Open sewers; garbage everywhere. Until this morning, there was a foul stench at the camp, but our troops have cleaned the area, and I am sure it will be to your liking now.”
Suleiman nodded. His mind was still on the early defeats of his forces. He said no more as the procession turned onto the main road at Koskinou and headed north to the camp.
Piri Pasha waited in his tent at Suleiman’s camp. He had been feeling sick since his arrival on Rhodes, and the task of setting up the command post had been more fatiguing than in the past. This time, his heart was not in it. He knew that these knights would not surrender so easily. Other armies trembled in fear at the approach of the Ottomans. But, here on Rhodes, the knights showed none of it. This would, indeed, be a long and bloody campaign. For the first time in his long service to his Sultans, Piri Pasha was in doubt as to how the battle would end.
When his servant brought news of the impending arrival of the Sultan, Piri dressed in his military uniform. He wore the new jeweled scimitar that Suleiman had given him as a present in Istanbul. Then, he sent for his new horse. This, too, was a present from the Sultan, though Piri longed for his old comfortable familiar mount. The new horse had just a bit too much energy for the old Vizier.
This is a mount for a young Sipahi,
he thought, the first time he had ridden the horse.
My fat bottom has grown used to the soft rolling gait of my own horse.
Piri walked his horse from the encampment, and proceeded down the road to meet the Sultan and escort him into camp. As the huge procession came into view, Piri took a deep breath and dug in his spurs. The stallion broke into a cantor, and Piri held the reins tightly to keep the animal from breaking into a full gallop. He squeezed his knees into the horse’s sides to maintain control. It would not do to rush headlong at the Sultan. It might spook the Sipahis or the Janissaries guarding the procession. And, it certainly wouldn’t do for the Grand Vizier of the Ottoman Empire to fall off his horse.
As he approached the vanguard, Piri waved his hand in the air. His blue caftan flapped in the wind, and twice he had to reposition his tall turban so it would not fall off.
I am becoming a parody of an old Grand Vizier,
he thought.
Though, I should be happy to grow old. There are not many Grand Viziers who have lived long enough to become old and fat!
Suleiman loosened the reins on his horse, and with scarcely a flicker of his boots against the horse’s flanks, the animal sped to a controlled cantor. The Sultan passed a few of his guard, and rode up to meet Piri alone. Mustapha and Ibrahim waited in their place in the procession. They knew that the Sultan wanted to greet his Vizier alone, and perhaps would vent some of his anger on the old man instead of them.
But this was not the case. The sight of Piri gave Suleiman some hope that his armies would rally and conquer these knights in short order. Somehow, seeing his father’s Vizier riding toward him, Suleiman felt the power of Selim and the old guard that was so successful in battle. Surely Piri Pasha would make it right.
“Piri Pasha!” Suleiman shouted. “How wonderful you look upon that horse. It suits you well.”
The horses stamped and shifted from side to side as the riders approached each other. Suleiman’s horse circled in place as Piri’s moved sideways to avoid the other. The horses gradually calmed down enough to allow the men to close the gap and reach out to clasp the other’s forearm.
Piri smiled and made a gallant attempt to look martial and strong. “My Sultan! It lifts my heart to see you safely here. Allah smiles upon you. Now we can begin, at last, to drive the vipers from our realm. Now you are here! Now we can begin!”
Then Piri waved to Ibrahim, who had just ridden up to where the Sultan’s horse was standing.
“
Salaam Aleichum
, Piri Pasha.”
“
Aleichum salaam
, Ibrahim.”
Suleiman looked carefully at Piri Pasha. He rode alongside the old man, and realized now that his own initial enthusiasm had clouded his vision. The Grand Vizier was not the man Suleiman knew at Belgrade. He was certainly not the man who rode at Selim’s right hand for eight years. Piri’s face was wan and gaunt. Though he was obese, he had the look of a starved and hungry man. He had new bags under his eyes, and the eyes had lost their sparkle.
Could this be the same man who greeted me at my serai in Istanbul?
thought Suleiman.
Is this the man who will lead my armies to victory over the Christian dogs?
The Sultan felt a heaviness in his chest. He looked back to Ibrahim. Ibrahim nodded sadly. Though no words were spoken, the lifelong friends had read each other’s minds. The party formed back into line and continued along the short way into the camp of the Sultan. Piri moved his horse closer to Suleiman. “Majesty, a word if I might.”
“Of course. Are you not my Grand Vizier?” Suleiman made his voice especially light to hide the pain he was feeling at the sight of Piri.
“Majesty, we need your presence here to deal with a problem before it gets out of hand.”