It was some time before I started to get
used to Valletta as it was in its first
days. Many of its iconic buildings that
graced the city’s entryway in 2018
hadn’t yet been built. For a moment, I
had thought that I would be able to see
the majestic opera house and opposite
that Palazzo Ferreria, but both of these
brilliant works of architecture were
built in the late nineteenth century. The
most recognizable building that were
still present in 2018 were the auberges
that the Knights resided in, some
churches such as that of Saint Catherine
and Our Lady of Victory, the infirmary
and the palace of the Grand Master.
Even the Cathedral of Saint John was
still in its beginnings and had none of
the baroque decorations that had been
added by various Grand Masters were
present.
Eventually, I became hungry and
thirsty, but I didn’t have any food with
me. When I tried to enter the Grand
Master’s palace (which maybe hadn’t
been the best idea, considering that in
the late sixteenth century it wasn’t a
museum), I was caught by a passing
knight, who pitied me in my tattered
dress, dishevelled hair and small
shivering frame. I was offered work in
the palace kitchen and I accepted in a
heartbeat. The work was hard and
tedious, but I had food, unlike the
Grand Master’s glamorous banquets,
but regular meals nonetheless. I became
pretty much invisible, ignored by most
of the household, except for the kitchen
servants. I couldn’t even communicate
properly with them. The Maltese
language has greatly evolved
throughout history, but the Maltese
used in the sixteenth century was
primarily based off Arabic. I caught tiny
titbits of what was being said, but my
vocabulary was much more modern
than theirs and their vocabulary
included a plethora of ancient words
that had long gone out of fashion. On
the other hand, I was much better at
understanding Italian. When I heard
the Italian knights speaking, there was
still language which I couldn’t
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