There was reigning in Bithynia, at the time when the knights seized upon Rhodes, that Ottoman whose name has come down to us when we speak of the Ottoman Empire; it is a somewhat strange coincidence that the Christian warriors, sworn foes of the Mussulman, should have so established themselves just when the tide of the Mohammedan conquest was about to rise and sweep away Byzantium; that they should arrive upon the scene just as the curtain was about to rise on the tragedy which, in its onward march, was to make of the church of St. Sophia a mosque for the worship of the Ottoman Turks.

Ottoman—­the descendant of one Soliman, the chief of a nomadic tribe of Tartars who had been chased from the Empire of Persia in the year 1214—­was not only a soldier and a conqueror, but also a great and beneficent ruler in those regions in which he held sway.  Approached by those of his co-religionists who had been driven out of Rhodes by the Knights, Ottoman embarked an army and attacked the place, assuring himself of an easy conquest.  In spite, however, of the fortifications having been hastily constructed, his troops were defeated with great loss, and he was obliged to raise the siege.  In this manner did the indomitable champions of Christendom begin that long and bloodthirsty war between the Cross and the Crescent in the Mediterranean which was to endure for nearly another five centuries.

[Illustration:  GOZON DE DIEU-DONNE SLAYING THE GREAT SERPENT OF RHODES.]

In the long, chequered, and glorious history of the Knights there are many strange and semi-miraculous deeds recounted of them in the wars and adventures in which they took so prominent a part; the following, which is gravely set out by the historians of the time, may be left to the judgment of the reader.  In 1324 Fulke de Villaret was succeeded in the Grand Mastership by Helion de Villeneuve, a knight of exemplary piety and a strict disciplinarian.  Under his rule the Order regained those habits of severe simplicity from which they had been allowed to lapse by his predecessor.  In 1329 Rhodes was greatly agitated by the fact that a crocodile or serpent—­as it is indifferently described—­had taken up its abode in the marshes at the foot of Mount St. Etienne, some two miles from the town.  This ferocious creature devoured sheep and cattle; also several of the inhabitants had lost their lives by approaching the neighbourhood in which it dwelt.  Several attacks were made upon it, but, as there were no firearms, all the missiles projected against it rebounded harmlessly from the scales with which it was covered.  So dangerous had it become, that the Grand Master thought it his duty to forbid any of the knights to attempt its destruction; an order which was obeyed with a right good will.  There was, however, a knight of the Language of Provence called Gozon de Dieu-Donne, who secretly determined that he would slay the serpent, and he accordingly made it his occupation to observe as closely as possible