“My brethren, from the preparation for the advent of the day whereon we celebrate the human birth of our Divine Redeemer, ye are called to do battle with His most terrible foes. My lord the Commandant of Gozo informs me that the galleys of the infidel are approaching us, in the hope, he supposes, of finding us all so enwrapped in our devotions that he will have of us an easy prey. My children, let him learn that we watch as well as pray. Show him once again that we count it our most precious privilege to pour out our blood in defence of our most Holy Faith, that we look upon our dying in this high endeavour to protect Christendom from the infidel as the most glorious fate that could befall us. Receive at my hands the blessing of the Most High. Go forth, each of you, fully equipped, not merely with material armour, but with the knowledge that upon you rests the special benevolence of God the Son, under whose banner you fight.”
All heads bowed for an instant as the solemn benediction was spoken, then with a clanging of armour and a clashing of swords the great assembly sprang to their feet and departed each to his post of honour and utmost danger.
It was high time. Already those snaky galleys laden with men of the most bloodthirsty type, fired with fanaticism and lured by the promises of an endless paradise of sensual delight, had crept into the many little sheltered bays of the island, and were vomiting forth their terrible crews.
Already a quick ear might catch the varied cries in strange tongues floating upward through the silken smoothness of the night air, predominant over them all the oft-reiterated shout of “Allah!” Already the keen-sighted watchers could discern dark-moving masses of men, from the midst of which came an occasional silvery gleam as the molten flood of moonlight touched a spear-tip or sword-blade.
Onward they came, marvelling doubtless at the ease with which they had been permitted thus to assemble upon the enemy’s territory, and for the most part utterly unconscious of the reception that awaited them at the goal of their hot desire. Suddenly there arose from the town beneath the citadel walls a long-drawn cry of anguish. The careless ones who had not fled for shelter to the common refuge had been found by the invader, and were being ruthlessly slaughtered. Their cries made bearded lips tighten, nervous hands grasp more firmly their weapons, and all hearts above to beat higher and more resolute to repay these murderers in full tale when the opportunity so to do should arrive.
Out from the highest belfry of the cathedral pealed the twelve strokes of the midnight hour, and before their sound had died away there uprose from the citadel a mighty chorus of welcome to Christmas Day—Gloria in excelsis Deo.
Before it had ended the first of the invaders had reached the walls, and, mad with fanatic fury and lust of blood, were swarming like ants up its steep sides, clinging with desperate tenacity to every plant and projection that afforded the slightest foot or hand hold. Regardless of the avalanche of stones hurtling down upon them, unheeding the dreadful rain of boiling lead and scalding water, they came indomitably on. Their numbers seemed incalculable, their courage, buttressed by unreasoning faith, invincible. But they were met at every point by men whose hearts were as well fortified as their own, and who possessed, besides the inestimable advantage of discipline and long training in warlike matters, the invaluable position of being defenders.
Downwards by hundreds the invaders were hurled, their spurting blood staining the pure whiteness of the walls with long black-red smears, which the shuddering moonlight revealed in all their ghastliness. Already the reinforcements were compelled to mount upon mounds of dead to get their first hold; the street of the little town, but lately so peaceful, was defiled by heaps upon heaps of frightfully mangled corpses, representatives of all the savage tribes of Northern Africa. “For Mary and her Son”—the war-cry of the night—rang out clearly and defiantly, soaring high above the shrill yells of the savages and the monotonous howl of “Allahhu!”
So far all seemed to have gone well, until suddenly a shudder ran through the whole garrison as the news spread that by the treachery of a vile renegade the secret subterranean passage into the citadel from a point near the shore had been laid open, and that already a torrent of the infidels were pouring through it.
The commandant, who had approved himself on this occasion a man of the very highest ability and courage, no sooner heard this awful news than, summoning around him his most trusted knights, he placed himself at their head and hurried to the spot. And the first sight that met his eyes was the beautiful form of her he loved borne high upon the shoulders of a gigantic heathen in black armour who, apparently feeling her weight not at all, was brandishing a huge scimitar in his right hand, and yelling words of encouragement in some guttural Eastern tongue to his followers.