“Let’s do a test with that new arrow you have designed, Dar’an. If it works we can mount one of these Scorpions on each of the ships, or perhaps more than one. Hsü told me that in order to keep an enemy ship at bay we should be able to fire these from a goodly distance and make them explode when they strike.”
“That sounds complicated,” Reza remarked.
“It might be beyond our skill. I wish I had paid more attention while we were in China, but I suspect that the right fuse length would help. If we could make it strike the hull of another ship and go deep into the wood so that they couldn’t pry it loose, there would be a big hole in their hull. And I want at least two for our own battlements.”
“I like that idea,” chortled Reza, and he went on to explain it to Palladius, who didn’t fully understand the implications of this cumbersome piece of equipment. “No! It isn’t for skewering rows of men all at once,” Reza said patiently. “It is for making big holes in ships.” He rolled his eyes at Max, who winked back. The two of them saw eye to eye on most things, but Reza found Palladius somewhat dense, even though the man tried his best, scared as he was by the devilish powder these strange people played around with.
“The ungodly stuff scares the shit out of me, Sir Max.” Palladius stared gloomily at the lingering dust cloud.
“Ungodly it might be, my friend, but it will keep the emperor at bay. Remember that,” Max told him. Palladius crossed himself and said nothing. As a man of war he realized that Max spoke truly. In the short time he had known this grizzled warrior he had come to respect him as a soldier. He resolved to master his fears and learn.
The group of friends continued to enjoy the rest of the morning. The Scorpions, huge cross-bow like devices with bow spans of eight feet, were manhandled to the ramparts and positioned so that they overlooked the hillside. It took some time to cock one of these, but once on the trigger, an arrow with a fused bomb tied onto its shaft could be gingerly placed in the groove along its center frame. Then the fuse was lit and the object seemed to come alive, spitting and hissing furiously as the release mechanism was hurriedly struck. With a mighty ‘twang’ from the bow string the ‘arrow’ would fly off into the distance, leaving the men by the weapon surrounded by dense, evil-smelling smoke. They had to turn away in a crouch to avoid the flying sparks. Then they popped up and eagerly gazed after its smoke trail in the air.
The arrow flew for what seemed like an impossible distance before exploding. They saw the flash and then, seconds later, heard the thud of the explosion. The men cheered, satisfied and pleased with themselves, quite unconscious of the wide berth everyone else gave them while they focused on their work. The other Greek and Frankish inhabitants crossed themselves and looked upwards, others made signs to ward off the evil eye. Meanwhile, the women in the solarium rolled their eyes at one another and focused on their embroidery. Another day at the castle was well on its way.
“If we keep this up we will run out of the powder, Reza,” Talon warned him when the tests were over and they were alone on the ramparts. “Have you had the stable boys collecting the horse piss?”
“They are collecting it in troughs. We can pour it into the trench of shit you had the men prepare. Dear God but it stinks!”
Talon nodded. “Good, we need to get to work on making more powder. I have prepared one of the dungeons. I have the charcoal and the sulphur already, all we await now is the fermentation of the saltpeter. We should keep everyone out of the dungeons, as it will become very dangerous before long.”
Reza agreed soberly. “I worry about that, but we need powder if we are to stay free. One of Henry’s and Guy’s missions should be to purchase more of the Greek Fire bombs. We are running low.”
“Dimitri told me that he thought we might be able to purchase some at Anatolia on the mainland,” Talon replied.
Test them to find out where they are sufficient
and where they are lacking
—Sun Tzu
Chapter 24
Alarms and New Arrivals
A good month after the siege, Rostam and Boethius’ daughter Irene were standing on the very top platform of the main bailey. Rostam was chewing on a dried length of straw and gazing thoughtfully out to sea. The view from here to the north was stunning, and the top of the bailey was their special place. The girl was standing on tiptoe nearby, staring out through a slit in the parapet wall at the panorama below and enjoying the light breeze that drifted over the ridge, ruffling her hair. It was late afternoon and their lessons were done for the day.
Over the last months the two had been thrown together by events, the hectic boat trip out of Paphos harbor, the hurried ride to the castle and then the siege. They had witnessed the unfolding events from the very top of the bailey, including the tremendous explosion of noise followed by the subsequent departure of the emperor’s army. It had left an impression on Irene, less so on Rostam, who was by now familiar with the hideous noises of the devices his father and Reza set off.
“It’s like being on a ship!” Rostam exclaimed, lifting his face to the wind. He stared out over the narrow ridge that ran in a north-easterly direction from the castle like the prow of an immense ship. One of his favorite games was to imagine that he was the captain, or more importantly the navigator, the mast above his head from which fluttered his father’s coat of arms being his flag of choice of his own ship. The stone battlements were the afterdeck of the imagined vessel. Both he and Irene had to stand on tiptoe to look over the parapet to see forward and down to the sea in the distance.
Irene turned away from looking into the distance, slid down to sit and leaned back against the rough warm stone of the bailey walls and sighed. “It is peaceful now, I am happy,” she said to no one in particular.
Rostam glanced down her way. “My father said that we should be left in peace for a while,” he stated. “I want to go hunting, but Uncle Reza told me it isn’t yet safe.”
“I’d like to go home too.” Irene said. She missed her father, who had departed a month before.
“Is your mother there with him?” asked Rostam who didn’t know her story in any detail.
“She died when I was born,” Irene said in a low voice.
“I’m sorry, Irene,” said Rostam sensing this was a difficult subject. He simply couldn’t imagine life without a mother.
“You mean Paphos? That’s home?” he enquired, to change the conversation.
“Yes, it is my home and I miss the city.”
“Father said that nowhere on this island is safe, in particular the cities,” Rostam replied in his halting Greek.
“My father is a merchant, he will manage,” Irene stated firmly.
“Well, I learned Greek from him and from you, so now we can talk.” Rostam tried to sound positive. He quite liked Irene. Admittedly she was a girl, and she was several years younger, but she was company when there were no other boys around with whom he could play. He missed Lin, who had been his boon companion in China. Had there been other boys present he might well have ignored her altogether, despite the fact that she seemed intelligent and didn’t chatter too much.
Talon had asked that Boethius remain in the castle until it was relatively safe and to use the time to teach his family Greek. Boethius had willingly agreed but it was a labor, as the language was hard to grasp for people unfamiliar with its complexities. Now, however, he was gone on a mission that Talon considered far more important. They could learn Greek as they went along, but Talon needed eyes and ears in Paphos.
Rostam could hear the cooing of the pigeons in the roost one floor below them. The system of carrier pigeons was now firmly established. Every once in a while one would arrive, flying in an arc around the bailey then into the window, to flutter and perch on the bar across the window of their newly constructed home.
Jannat had volunteered to become the keeper of the pigeons and appeared to enjoy the task, the gentle noises they made, petting them and attaching messages to their legs as the need arose, t
hen sending them on their way. Rostam’s father seemed well pleased with the results, and whenever a message arrived from Paphos there was always a line in the letter for Irene to cheer her up.
He looked up at the sky. “It’s going to be clear night tonight, Irene. Do you want to see the constellations?”
Irene’s eyes lit up. “Yes, do you know them? I only know one or two.”
“Of course I do!” Rostam exclaimed. “I am a navigator! I know them all, and I shall show them to you if you want me to.”
Irene nodded excitedly. “When would be the best time? How will we be able to... ?”
“I shall wake you. Don’t worry, we won’t have any trouble with your nurse. She will be fast asleep, snoring as always. We’ll come back up here and no one will know where we are.”
Irene hugged her thin knees to her chest and smiled sideways at him with her big eyes and wide mouth, the corners of which dimpled with excitement. Rostam was basking in the glow, not quite knowing why, when there was a call from down in the main yard. It was the nurse looking for Irene.
“I’d better go,” Irene said reluctantly. “See you later,” she added with a smile. It displayed a gap in her front teeth where two upper teeth were only half grown, which she was very self-conscious about but which only added to her pixie-like features. The light dapple of freckles, large ears and huge dark eyes of the nine-year-old added to the semblance.
“Come, Panther, we are leaving now,” she called over to the black kitten that had been investigating the corners of the battlements. The cat ignored her; he could smell mice.
“I’ll bring him to you when I come down,” Rostam assured her.
As she scampered off on bare feet Rostam watched her go, remembering the frightened girl who had arrived on the ship, terrified of everything, especially after the awful noise on the quayside and the screams that followed. She had been too timid to speak, and it had taken some time to get her to talk to him. Eventually, the company of someone her own age had helped draw her out. He didn’t mind her company at all.
His thoughts drifted to other matters. Papa had offered to take him out and show him how to use a hawk to hunt small animals— when it was safer. He longed to be out of the castle and, glancing at the glittering sea far below, wondered when he would be next on a ship. Captain Guy had offered to talk to his father about taking him some day. He couldn’t wait.
He stood up again and stared across the rippled country towards the harbor. Then he tensed. Far out to sea he could discern a speck of something. He waited, blinking in the wind, staring hard, and finally he could see that it was a ship; furthermore, it was sailing straight towards their harbor!
Alarmed, he ran to the parapet overlooking the barbican where he thought he had earlier heard some activity. His father and Reza often spent time there experimenting with their warlike devices, and usually Rostam had been allowed to watch from the overlooking ramparts. Now all that stood there was the reassembled trebuchet which dominated the space like some great squatting monster; alongside were two of the nasty-looking devices that Reza called Scorpions.
Rostam glanced urgently around the rooftop. He knew of the signal rockets that his father and Reza had built for the purpose of sounding an alarm, or to send a signal to the ships in the harbor if another vessel were spotted from the lofty height of the bailey. That would give the people in the harbor time to prepare for trouble.
Three rockets were stacked in a trough-like box against the parapet, protected from the sun and rain by a rough roof made of thatch and posts. Rostam ran over to the area and looked at the devices nestled in their long holders. They could be removed easily and placed in a stand on the corner of the bailey. He looked around and found a striker and flint lying on a small shelf nearby.
He had been forbidden to go anywhere near the devices by his father and Reza, who told him how unpredictable and dangerous were these infernal devices, but now there was an emergency. What if the ship posed a threat? He ran one more time to the parapet, but the barbican, the main yard and the area below were deserted. He even called out, but the guards on the eastern walls ignored him, and no one else responded.
He would send one of these signals himself; he had watched his uncle fire one off before. All it took was a stream of sparks and the thing did all the rest. Everyone would be pleased and the harbor would be warned.
Taking up the flint he struck it to ensure it was working. Sure enough, a thin satisfying stream of sparks flew downward. But the stream of sparks ran directly down towards one of the rocket fuses. Horrified by his mistake, Rostam reached down to try and smother the sparks. Nothing seemed to happen, and for a few moments he thought that he had succeeded.
Then he saw a small glow on the fuse, followed by an angry hissing sound like a dozen snakes in a pit. It had caught, and now there was nothing he could do to prevent disaster. Too late to take it out of the box and put it in its proper launcher! He reached in to move it, but the terrifying hissing grew in volume and smoke came out of the container, obliterating the contents. Suddenly there was a flare of flame and a loud whooshing sound. Before he could dive for cover the rocket took off into the air, leaving behind a dense stream of sparks and flame that singed his face.
The situation had Panther’s full attention. He was backed up with his tail straight up in the air and the size of a brush, his yellow eyes wide, and he was hissing with fright in unison with the rocket.
As the rocket tore through the flimsy roof of the shelter, it started a small fire in the thatch. Unaware of this, Rostam watched, transfixed, as the rocket hurtled high into the sky in a crazy curling fashion. Without warning a huge burst of flame ignited the box where the other two rockets were stored. Another rocket took off. Rostam was so close that it singed his clothes before he was bowled over. Both he and the cat cowered in fear. The second rocket hissed into the sky, leaving a dense cloud of smoke and flame as the whole box caught fire and began to burn in earnest.
This was too much for Panther, who scuttled for the open doorway, every hair on his body sticking straight out and his tail twice its usual size. With a yowl of terror the little black cat vanished down the stairs, leaving Rostam to face the elements on his own.
He gaped with horror at the ongoing destruction. He could do nothing other than stare helplessly at the burning wreckage where once there had been a storage place for his father’s signal devices. Unfortunately it was not over yet.
The remaining rocket had fallen over, but it too ignited and shot off parallel to the roof of the bailey, bouncing off the stone walls of the parapet, spewing sparks in every direction. Then it bounced one last time. The rocket, like some malevolent fireball with a mind of its own, came directly towards an appalled Rostam.
His mouth opened in a howl of sheer terror and he threw himself backward, rolled and tried to bury his face in the wooden floor with his hands over his head, waiting for certain death. The missile hissed furiously over his back making him twitch as it showered him with sparks, then it smashed into the wall beyond to disintegrate with a splatter of flame and flying debris.
His father and Reza found him in that position when they arrived panting on the roof top of the bailey. They hesitated at the sight of the burning cover. Then Reza seized a leather bucket of water and Talon one of sand, which they used to douse the small fire. The thatch cover was gone in a smoldering mess and there remained little evidence of the rockets other than the charred and burnt-out skeleton of the third one lying against the wall where it had expired from the collision with the parapet.
Talon’s first instinct as he took in the scene was to seize Rostam by the neck and shake him until his teeth rattled while demanding an explanation, but a snort from Reza nearby made him glance up. Reza was clutching his sides as though in great pain and slowly sat down on the floor next to Rostam who began to look up, fearful of the sure punishment that awaited him. But Talon had stopped and was looking down at his brother, who had lost all control and was rolling helples
sly on the floor weeping with laughter, pointing at Rostam.
Then Talon looked harder at his son. Rostam’s normally light colored hair was burned and charred, his face was black and his eyebrows were singed off. His huge eyes were dead white with two black spots in the middle in the black of his frightened countenance and his clothes were also black, burned, and even smoking. Without saying anything, because he thought he would choke, Talon knelt next to the boy and checked that there were no serious burns. He smacked at the smoldering parts to put them out, but it was hard to ignore Reza, who was making choking sounds as if he were about to die.
“Shut up, Reza!” Talon exclaimed, but he finally had to turn away with a snort of his own laughter, trying hard not to let his son see but it was no use. He couldn’t help it; he too began to laugh helplessly.
“I’m sorry, Papa!” the boy said, sounding utterly miserable. “I didn’t mean to do this. It was a ship, you see. One is coming in, and I wanted to send a signal.” He looked forlorn and frightened as he stood and looked up at his father, who had himself stood up. Reza scrambled to his feet, for which Talon was grateful because it was totally undignified to remain rolling about on the floor.
Talon glowered at his son. “You did this, why?” he demanded, not having heard right the first time.
“A ship, Papa!” Rostam insisted. “There is a ship coming in. I wanted to raise the alarm.”
“A ship? What are you talking about, Rostam? In any case, this is not the way it is done!” Talon roared. He glanced at Reza, who was wiping his eyes. “A ship, you say?”
“I called, but no one heard me!” Rostam said, a note of defiance creeping into his tone. His lower lip was sticking out, always a sign that he was going to stand his ground.
“Next time try not to destroy the castle when you sound the alarm.”
They all went to the north side of the parapet to look. Sure enough, a ship was sailing towards the harbor. Talon could also see another ship about to sail out to greet it. The alarm had been raised and Guy had understood. The process worked!
Assassins of Kantara Page 40