By seeking, on the one hand, to look beneath the layered traditions of passionate patriotic myth-making and fictionalisation, and, on the other, to consciously recognise their exceptional significance in the spirit of historical objectivity, this article seeks to revisit these heroic episodes to honour the endurance and sacrifice they embody within world history.
“‘Nothing is better known than the siege of Malta,’ remarked Voltaire,” recalls Ernle Bradford, who himself had taken part in a later crucial siege of Malta, in his celebrated book The Great Siege on the events of 1565, originally published in 1964.
Half a century later, in 2014, Australian Roff Smith recalled Cardinal Richelieu’s description of the 1566 Siege of Szigetvár as “the battle that saved civilisation”.
While Malta commemorates 460 years since the Great Siege, Hungary prepares to mark 500 years since Mohács, a battle, near Szigetvár, long regarded as the breaking point of medieval Hungarian statehood.
The Hungarian-Turkish Friendship Park. Photo: Pasztilla Aka Attila Terbőcs, Creative CommonsThe gravitas of Malta’s events is reflected in the recognition they received even from Protestant Queen Elizabeth I while their legacy endures in honorific town names still in use, such as Vittoriosa, Cospicua and Città Invicta (Senglea).
The 1566 siege of Szigetvár has long been seen as a defining moment in European history, articulated by Hungarian statesman Lajos (Louis) Kossuth as a decisive episode in the centuries-long struggle between the crescent and the cross, marking the end of an era in which Suleiman’s death, before the fortress, closed the age of warrior sultans.
More recently, Henry Frendo described Malta’s ordeal as “a full-scale fight to the finish against the turbaned infidel”, and, while the Great Siege inspired authors such as Walter Scott, the memory of Szigetvár remains immortalised in Hungary’s epic canon.
After the conquest of Malta, Suleiman intended taking first Sicily and then… central Europe
Timeline and trajectories
The road to the 1565 Siege of Malta began in October 1564, when the imperial council, or Divan, convened under the authority of Sultan Suleiman.
As Maltese professor Arnold Cassola ‒ whose work, along with that of Hungarian historians Pál Fodor and József Kelenik, this article owes a great deal to ‒ notes in his Süleyman the Magnificent and Malta, “In Suleiman’s mind” strategic priority was increasingly shifting towards addressing the challenges posed by Malta and Hungary. Cassola also states that the Ottoman fleet, “with a total of 200 ships”, was first sighted from Maltese forts on May 18.
The direct aftermath on the Maltese side of this moment is also recalled by British author Simon Scarrow in dramatic detail: “In Birgu, in the conventual chapel of St Lawrence […] it was the 18th day of May, AD 1565, the Grandmaster solemnly addressed his knights.”
Exactly 460 years ago, the Ottoman siege of Malta entered one of its most brutal and decisive phases during late May and June, culminating in the final victory on September 8. When the foundation stone of Valletta was finally laid on March 28, 1566, the sultan had already shifted his focus elsewhere.
On June 15, 1566, at the same point in the calendar when Malta’s defenders had been locked in the near-miraculous defence of Fort St Elmo, Commander Miklós Zrínyi received word that a two-mile-long Ottoman army was advancing towards Szigetvár.
In the Hungarian campaign, Ottoman advance units arrived outside Szigetvár on August 1, and, according to Ottoman chronicler Mustafa Selaniki, the siege formally began on 20 Muharram 974 AH, corresponding to August 7, 1566. The Old Town fell on August 19 and the outer citadel was finally overrun on September 5.
It is around this time that a key divergence between the two sieges becomes evident. By early September 1565, the Ottoman forces in Malta were nearing collapse; morale had plummeted and, after months of procrastination, Viceroy García de Toledo finally resolved to launch the long-awaited relief expedition. Although balance had already been practically tipped in favour of the defenders, Grande Soccorso troops landed at the north end of Malta.
In contrast, at Szigetvár, the fall of the outer citadel signalled what the Ottomans saw as inevitable victory – yet, it was precisely then, with nearly his entire garrison slain, that Commander Zrínyi chose a final sortie with 300 men, embracing certain death over capitulation.
Overwhelming odds and force ratios
Both sieges were marked by dramatic numerical imbalance and heavy losses. In Malta, Von Hammer estimated the Ottoman force (excluding seamen and galley slaves) at 31,000, of whom only around 10,000 returned to Constantinople. These enormous numbers were met by the Christian defenders in Malta, who, according to Balbi, numbered around 6,100 men.
At Szigetvár, estimates vary more widely. While British historian John Elliott, in his work Europe Divided, 1559-1598, places Suleiman’s forces at 300,000, others, more cautiously suggest 50,000 to 55,000 Ottoman and vassal troops – a force exceeding the population of Cologne at the time. The defenders numbered just 2,300 soldiers and nearly 2,000 civilians, according to Elliott’s compatriot and colleague Andrew Wheatcroft.
Heterogenous ethnic composition of the sides
Both sieges involved markedly multi-ethnic forces. On the Ottoman side, the army represented a vast empire, composed of Anatolian, Wallachian (Romanian), Jewish, Levantine and Greek soldiers. In Malta, this was further reinforced by allied North African corsairs, facing defenders from the Order of St John and local Maltese militias.
At Szigetvár, the defending forces were primarily Hungarian-Croatian, led by Miklós Zrínyi, a Hungarian, Croatian and Austrian nobleman.
Provocations as pretexts
In both Malta and Hungary, specific incidents were invoked to justify the Ottoman military campaigns – though their role was likely more rhetorical than decisive.
According to Ottoman chronicler Selaniki, the Hungarians had begun “quarreling” and the Habsburgs’ Ferdinand failed to pay the agreed tribute. As Cassola also notes, “the Hungarians had rebelled against their Ottoman rulers”.
In Malta, the trigger was the capture of a ship belonging to Kustir-Aga, the sultan’s chief eunuch – “the ultimate provocation”, as Bradford put it. Yet, Malta was seen primarily as a springboard to Sicily and Italy: “After the conquest of Malta, Suleiman intended taking first Sicily and then… central Europe.”
In contrast, the siege of Szigetvár stemmed from deeper strategic and internal motives: the protracted Ottoman–Habsburg rivalry, pressure from Balkan (Rumelian) elites (also playing a crucial role in Malta’s siege) and the lure of Hungary’s relative wealth.
Without Grand Master Jean de Valette’s personal dedication, authority and military skill – qualities that made him irreplaceable during the siege – it is unlikely that Malta’s capital would bear his name today.
He was around 70 years old at the time of the siege, “the same age as Soleyman the Magnificent”. In the words of Bradford, “to have attained such an age with physical strength and mental ability unimpaired, after a life of constant warfare” was itself exceptional.
On the opposing side, Mustapha Pasha was a seasoned veteran of the Hungarian and Persian wars, while Piali Pasha was possibly kidnapped as a child, interestingly and ironically, from southern Hungary. Later, he rose to become one of the empire’s most powerful admirals.
Another prominent commander was the corsair Dragut, who, as Scarrow writes, “was the greatest of all the corsairs […] even greater than his mentor Kheireldin”.
On both sides, leadership was defined by solemn oaths and personal sacrifice. As Bradford recounts, de Valette reminded his companions: “We swore obedience when we joined the Order… We swore also on the vows of chivalry that our lives would be sacrificed for the Faith whenever, and wherever, the call might come.”
Likewise, Zrínyi solemnly pledged: “I, Count Miklós Zrínyi, swear by Almighty God first […] and by our suffering homeland, and finally by you, brave and valiant men gathered here […] that I shall never abandon you; with you I shall either emerge victorious or die.”
The charism of Suleiman
Suleiman the Great. Photo: Wikimedia CommonsSultan Suleiman’s personal (Szigetvár) and indirect (Malta) roles in the campaigns were exceptional. As Turkish historian Günhan Börekçi notes, he was regarded as “one of the greatest and most vigorous warrior (gazi) rulers” and a “model to be followed”; the siege of Szigetvár was his final campaign.
As Bradford reports, his symbolic presence was also emphasised during the siege: “Above the High Admiral’s stern quarters was set the personal standard of the Grand Turk – a beaten silver plaque, ten feet square, surmounted by the crescent moon and a golden ball from which floated a long horsehair plume. This denoted that Soleyman the Magnificent was represented aboard.”
So great was Dragut’s reputation that he feared troops would be demoralised if they learned of his death
Silence for morale
The concealment of the Turkish commanders’ injury or death was often a calculated measure to maintain morale of the besiegers. On June 18, when Dragut was struck by cannon fire, in the words of Bradford, once again, Mustapha Pasha “ordered one of his staff to cover the body quickly with a cloak and have it carried secretly to the headquarters at the Marsa. So great was Dragut’s name and reputation that he feared the troops would be demoralised if they learned of his death…”
A similar tactic was employed in the Hungarian case. Though Suleiman likely died on September 4 at Szemlő Hill, news of his passing was kept secret even from senior commanders. As French historian Nicholas Vatin notes, with the help of a small inner circle, Grand Vizier Sokollu Mehmed succeeded in keeping the sultan’s death hidden for 48 days, until the arrival of his successor, Selim II. The illusion was sustained with the aid of physicians who feigned the sultan’s continued life.
Minimal or absent support from allies
Western support in both sieges was minimal or delayed. De Valette was well aware that the Order could expect little help from Christian rulers. Despite repeated promises, Don García hesitated to send reinforcements; neither the end-of-June nor the end-of-August deployment dates were met, as we learn from Bradford. Although the relief force departed on August 25, poor weather delayed its landing at Mellieħa (or St Paul’s) Bay until September 7.
In Szigetvár’s case, Habsburg forces remained passive throughout. Expecting the Ottomans to advance toward Vienna, they focused their efforts about 100 miles from the siege, making no attempt to relieve the besieged fortress.
No surrender at all
The option of surrender was explicitly rejected in the cases of both Malta and Szigetvár. On June 30, when a messenger arrived in Vittoriosa under a flag of truce, de Valette famously replied, as recalled by our ‘ever-present’ guide Bradford: “The Turks will never take this place. Tell your master that this is the only territory that I will give him” – he said, pointing to the ditch.
At Szigetvár, the fall of the outer citadel offered the most favourable opportunity for surrender but Zrínyi and his men chose continued resistance and death. Aware of the symbolic weight of the moment, they refused to yield.
Sorties: key tactical and symbolic roles
At Vittoriosa, de Valette’s forces conducted several such actions. As Bradford notes, these included bold and strategic strikes, such as those targeting Ottoman siege engines.
A depiction of the final sortie of Commander Miklós Zrínyi. Photo: Wikimedia CommonsAt Szigetvár, the most iconic, final sortie occurred on September 7. According to the Ottoman chronicler Mustafa Selaniki: “On Saturday morning – on the 22nd of Safar – Zrínyi opened the gate above the inner fortress bridge and, letting 300 arquebusiers, swordsmen, and lancers go before him […] ‘Haj, huj!’ amidst musket fire.”
This final breakout marked the end of the siege. As Stephen Turnbull describes in his The Ottoman Empire, 1326-1699: “[Zrínyi] was now in command of a battered fortress with only three sides left standing. An assault across the breach could come at any moment, so he decided to resolve the issue by leading his men in one last suicidal sortie […] Zrínyi died almost instantly when two bullets hit him in the chest…”
Fort St Angelo, Vittoriosa, today. Photo: FritzPhotography, Creative CommonsWarfare parallels
The Ottomans advanced on Fort St Elmo via the Sciberras peninsula, using trenches and saps. Dragut directed concentrated artillery fire from three directions on the fort (the site at Tigné, Sliema, was even named after him ever since). These, in addition to other sites, notes Bradford, resulted in more than 70,000 cannon shots – more than had been fired during the Siege of Rhodes.
The use of elevated gun platforms and sapping positions was also noted at Szigetvár.
Both sieges employed complex engineering techniques: at Vittoriosa, high siege towers were involved, just like Mustapha Pasha’s elaborate “engine of war”, though they likely proved counterproductive.
At Szigetvár, Ottoman forces constructed ramps and bridges made of earth, wood and rubble to assault the Old Town.
The Fort of Szigetvár nowadays. Photo: Wikimedia CommonsTime pressure of Scirocco and the onset of winter
Concerned about worsening weather and the arrival of the Sirocco winds, the Ottomans aimed to capture the island by mid-September – but, ultimately, withdrew before then. This urgency caused friction between commanders: Mustapha Pasha was prepared to winter on the island while Admiral Piali (Piyale) Pasha refused to risk his fleet any further.
In the Hungarian context, seasonal limits on campaigning were also well established. Military activity and taxation were traditionally tied to the feasts of St George (April 24) and St Demetrius (October 26). After the latter, Ottoman forces generally avoided launching campaigns in Europe – though with some exceptions. Before this psychological threshold, Szigetvár fell – today standing as a symbol of pride and international reconciliation.
Márton Iványi is an interdisciplinary researcher, Arabist-Maltist, essayist and a member of the Għaqda Internazzjonali tal-Lingwistika Maltija (GĦILM).