In the pre-dawn of June 16th, a lone voice broke the stillness. The mullahs summoned the men to prayers; for two hours the priests called and the men responded in a gathering rhythmic crescendo to psych them up to fight and die. The defenders crouched behind their makeshift barricades, listening to the eerie chants rising and falling in the darkness beyond. La Vallete had sent reinforcements across and the defenders, if already weary, were well ordered. Each man had his duty and his post. They were grouped in threes: one arquebusier to two pikemen. Large quantities of fire weapons had been stock piled, rocks gathered, and quantities of bread soaked in wine. Barrels of water stood behind the parapets into which men torched by adhesive fire could hurl themselves. As the sun rose, there was a searching barrage of fire ‘so that the earth and the air shook’, and then Mustapha signalled the advance along a huge crescent. Suleiman’s imperial standard was unfurled; a turban was hoisted on a spear, farther down the line there was an answering puff of smoke. An extraordinary array of banners and shields were visible surging forward, ‘painted with extraordinary designs; some with devices of different birds, some with scorpions and with Arab lettering’. In the front rank men ran wildly towards the walls, calling out the name of Allah in a crescendo of shouts. From the battlements came the Christian countercalls: Jesus, Mary, St Michael, St James and St George — ‘according to the devotion of each man’. There was a furious push towards the bridge; scaling ladders were put to the walls and battle was joined. The whole front was a struggling mass of humanity fighting hand to hand.