The Eagle and the Dragon, a Novel of Rome and China

by Lewis F. McIntyre

  “Good. Plenty of incendiaries?”

  “Of course. Lots of pitch.”

  As Antonius left, Gaius felt a shiver run through his body. He never understood how he kept his fear from showing before action, but no one ever seemed to notice but him. The dry mouth, the twisting stomach, the million what-ifs running through his mind that could spell the difference between victory and defeat... well, he was used to it now, at least.

  Antonius inspected each ballista, and its crew, led by a ship’s officer. There were four ballistae on each side, each with a five foot bow and a heavy wooden shield to protect the shooters against return fire. Massive rope torsion coils on either side of the track groaned and creaked, storing energy as the ratcheted firing windlass at the end was cranked to draw the bow back and arm the weapon. Two cranks on the pedestal locked it into the correct elevation and azimuth, so it did not require re-aiming after each shot. Pulling the trigger dispatched a four-foot bronze bolt to its target up to a thousand yards away. These bolts had enough striking power to splinter wooden fortifications at a quarter-mile. Their volume of fire made it highly likely someone moving unprotected in the target area would be fatally skewered.

  On the side of each weapon was a sighting tube, pivoted to rotate through range marks. If the range had been estimated correctly, sighting the target through the tube guaranteed correct elevation angle… Antonius hoped. He had not had the opportunity to do accuracy checks, impossible while underway. Supposedly, they had been sighted in while in Myos Hormos, but Antonius had not done it personally.

  The two midships weapons were configured as polyboli ‘many-shooters’ equipped with an automatic feed. Above the cradle, a dispenser held twenty bolts, fed from the top. When the firing windlass reached the end of its draw, it tripped a bolt from the feeder and released the trigger. The crew just had to keep the dispenser full and crank to launch ten bolts per minute.

  Antonius came up to each weapon, and thoroughly checked the bow and rope torsion springs. A loose fitting could disintegrate explosively if it failed, potentially killing someone. He checked the tightness of the elevation and azimuth cranks, and the range settings on the sight tube; he had told them to use two hundred fifty yards. He then sighted to see the targets they had picked out. He made sure the incendiaries had plenty of water, sand and a blanket to extinguish any fires, and that each had a good batch of about a hundred bolts. He then gave the same speech to each crew in Greek.

  “Make sure its trajectory is well clear of the ship’s rigging. No need to damage or light off your own ship with a stupid shot. Take your time. If it don’t feel right, cease shooting and call me. We don’t need to bust one of these, they’re hard to fix. You might kill yourself, too!

  “Polyboli shooters, no incendiaries! It’s too easy to light off the whole damn magazine and torch your own weapon. Single shooters at the bow and stern will use incendiaries; aim at the sides of the target to bunch them up, the polyboli will aim for the middle and pin them to the dock. Don’t light the incendiary until you’re cocked and ready to pull the trigger. If you have a fire, put it out quickly, or this whole ship might go up.

  “Port side shooters, stand by and keep an eye out for boats approaching us from seaward. Keep your azimuth and elevation loose, you won’t know where they are coming from if they come.

  “Everyone, be safe! I don’t someone losing a hand in these rigs!”

  The combination of dry bolts and incendiaries would quickly reduce the dockyard to flaming splinters in short order.

  Antonius had just finished his inspection when the crowd’s voice changed again. This time it was the sound of a charge, as the mob swirled down the dock, and began boarding the boats tied up there.

  “Antonius! This is it! Push them back!” cried out Gaius from the quarterdeck. Antonius relayed the order, and two solid thunks dispatched their flaming projectiles on their arcing trajectories. The two incendiaries arced high and bright against the night sky like meteors, while the other two bolts were unseen angels of death, whistling through the air to the mob focused on the visible incendiaries. Both incendiaries plunged into the dock, where the men there had already cleared the expected impact zone. But in so doing, they bunched up in the middle, right in the path of the two dry bolts.

  And on deck the the midships polyboli kept up their rhythm. Ratchety-ratchety ratchety thunk! Ratchety ratchety thunk! The first volley had not yet struck their victims when two more volleys of seen and unseen death were launched, winging their way to the hapless mob. The milling and consternation indicated that the dry bolts had scored their mark, and the second and third volleys penetrated the mob’s core. The fires lit by the incendiaries went unextinguished, and the next volley of incendiaries exploded in a shower of sparks and flaming pitch as the bolts impacted the dock.

  Antonius, from amidships, was commanding the artillery. “All right now, they’re breaking to the left now, trying to make to the streets. Let’s cut off their escape and keep ‘em bunched! Incendiaries, aim for that alley way. Close it off, set it ablaze. The rest of you, follow the mob and keep aiming for the center!”

  The ballistae loosened their azimuth so they could swivel to follow the crowd, without losing the elevation that gave them their critical range. The dry bolts stopped to aim before that last fateful turn of the crank, while the incendiaries, having put part of the dock ablaze, cut off the crowd’s escape. The dry bolts continued to plunge into the massed men. The people were in full panic now, never having seen such a devastating weapon. Some dove into the water, and others, finally realizing the folly of remaining in a tight knot, began to scurry alone across the firelit dock, past dozens of men who lay impaled. More and more began to take to the water.

  “All right, now! Incendiaries, drop your aim a bit, and take out those boats! All of them!”

  The boats were much smaller targets, harder to hit. Incendiaries hissed into the water, ineffective for the most part, but the rate of fire was such that one by one, each boat was eventually struck, its sail exploding in a sheet of flame, its men diving overside to the protection of the water.

  By now, the battle for the docks of Galle had turned into a rout. The survivors were leaping through flames in terror to escape the whistling death, or diving into the water to swim to safety. And, since they didn’t know the range of the weapon, they didn’t know where safety lay. In ten minutes, the Europa had reduced the dockyard to a flaming inferno, as well as all the boats that had lined it. And, through the flames, the charred remains of what had once been men could be seen.

  “All right, all right, enough already. Cease firing!” bawled Antonius.

  The ballista crewmen stared in awe at their handiwork. None of them had ever fired these awesome weapons in combat. From a quarter-mile out, the Europa had started an inferno that destroyed the docks, killed at least thirty or forty people, and now the blaze, spreading from building to building, threatened to engulf the whole waterfront.

  “Not bad, Antonius! Not bad at all! In fact, damn good shooting for beginners! I expect they’ll be trying to bring some firefighters down to extinguish the blaze. Hold your fire, unless they try to regroup and re-attack. But I don’t think you left them much transportation there,” Gaius chuckled as the flaming boats bobbed aimlessly, flames licking up their rigging until masts and booms gave way. “Keep a sharp eye out to seaward, now. I expect that if they mount a re-attack, they’ll try it with boats further out along the beach, and try to come in under cover of darkness. I’d give them about an hour to get around that far, if any of them have the stomach to try again.”

  Predictably, the town’s firefighters arrived to try to stem the waterfront blaze. Warehouses began to explode as the flames found flammable oils and wine stores, and the firefighters scattered, thinking somehow that the terrible weapons on the Europa were responsible. But the Europa fired no more bolts in the direction of the docks, and the firefighters established a firebreak east of the waterfront to contain the blaze. There was no
thing else they could do; they could not extinguish it.

  And about four in the morning, a sharp-eared lookout caught the sound of voices and the thud of oars across the water to seaward. His sharp eyes strained against the starlight to catch the dim outlines of a mass of small boats approaching, coming into bowshot range, perhaps a quarter mile or less away.

  Again Gaius gave the quiet order, Antonius bawled his command, and the seaward ballistae worked their terrible deeds. On this side, Antonius had removed the polyboli automatic feeders, so that all four positions could fire incendiaries. The boats saw the flames as the incendiaries were lit in their direction, and their consternation could be heard on deck as the first volley arced skyward to plunge into their midst, striking one boat. However, this was not to be as one-sided a contest as the dock had been. The intruders had slipped inside bow range, and a volley of dozens of arrows answered the ballistae. Crewmen scurried to shelter behind their shields as the arrows struck the deck like hail. One ballista crewman screamed, a shaft penetrating his forearm.

  “Get him down! Get him down! And get another man in his place!” bawled Antonius, as the next volley of incendiaries traced out against the sky. Antonius noted that there was just a hint of dawn, and one boat, now aflame, illuminated the others. “Archers! Let’s get some arrows in the air! Two can play this game! And use some fire!”

  The Nubian archers were among the best in the world. Tall, dark, regal representatives of Africa, they served as auxiliaries to the Roman legions throughout Europe, Asia and Africa. Almost in slow motion, they took careful aim and twenty bowstrings thrummed in unison. And in that same surreal slow motion, they selected another arrow, took aim and fired and fired again. The third volley fired incendiaries, and twenty small sparks followed a higher shorter trajectory than the large meteors from the ballistae. The clatter of arrows impacting the deck from the attacking boats became erratic as cries across the water confirmed that the Nubian arrows that had found their mark. And now three boats were ablaze. The boats could now be seen clearly in the dimness, illuminated by their flaming companions. Some had turned around, others pressed on. The boats were close enough now that the ballistae no longer fired high arcs in the hopes of hitting someone, but leveled their deadly volleys in a flat trajectory at their intended victims with much greater force and accuracy. Another five boats burst into flame. And the Nubian archers pressed the rail, firing as individuals directly into the boats. Several boats bobbed aimlessly, their crews lying dead or wounded.

  Some boats continued to press the attack, belatedly using incendiaries themselves. These lit several small fires on the Europa, but the highly flammable sail had been stowed before action, and the fires quickly extinguished. But the closer the boats came, the more accurately the Europa’s bolts and arrows tore into them. Finally, at about fifty yards, the lead boat burst into flames, and the remaining four came about and broke off the attack, joining the others who had fled the action earlier.

  This attack had lasted about half an hour, and by now it was grey dawn. They could survey the damage done overside. Twenty small boats lay burning, ten more bobbed aimlessly, their crews dead, wounded or having fled overside. Bodies floated in the water.

  The Europa’s crew had not escaped unscathed. Besides the ballista crewman, ten others had sustained arrow wounds, and two were dead. But compared to the carnage overside, it had still been a one sided action.

  Ibrahim came down to look sadly at the damage. “So many dead. I have seen death so many times, and yet it never becomes familiar.”

  “I know that well, Ibrahim. They fought well,” said Gaius, grimly.

  “Demetrios! Put boats over and pick up the wounded. The dead as well! Let’s not let the sharks feed on such worthy foes as these!” Ibrahim ordered.

  The boats went overside and brought aboard their terrible harvest. Many of the wounded fought, thinking they would be tortured to death, but all were firmly but gently brought onto the deck with the help of a translator who assured them that they would not be harmed. And the dead were brought aboard as well, wrapped in shrouds and laid on the deck. The wounded were treated. By midmorning, Ibrahim and Gaius spoke with one of the least injured, a young dark man who had taken an arrow wound to the shoulder, little more than a knife cut.

  Ibrahim addressed the young man through a translator. “I want you to go back to the townspeople of Galle, and take some of the wounded with you. Tell them we mean them no harm, but they should know that attacking us is foolhardy. We will set the entire town ablaze if necessary if they do so.”

  The young man was defiant. “Why you not go? Not wanted in Galle. Go!”

  “We go when we are ready. We are not yet ready. Now have them send back one boat, unarmed, and we will return their dead and more seriously wounded.”

  As the young man was led away to the ship’s boat being readied overside, Gaius couldn’t help but admire Ibrahim’s ingenuity. “What a stroke of genius. That will, I suspect, give them something to think about. Ibrahim, you surprise me. If you weren’t a pirate, I think I should truly consider you a gentleman.”

  “The dead have fought their fight. They should be honored.”

  Billows of thick smoke poured from the remains of the Galle waterfront, fires still flaring from a few buildings. Against the blackened remnants of the dock, charred remnants of boats bobbed against the collapsed timbers.

  The provincial governor came aboard with the boat sent to recover the dead and wounded. The boat came under a flag of truce, but he demanded that his four armed bodyguards escort him on board, despite the provision that they come unarmed.

  Ibrahim, Demetrios and Gaius conferred on this, and decided that the boat was too small to carry a large boarding force. They agreed, but first arrayed the deck force, both as a welcoming committee and as a subtle warning. Antonius fell out the on-duty shift under Shmuel, and called them to attention as the governor and his guards clambered gracelessly up the rope ladder to the deck. As he recovered his footing on the deck, Antonius bawled out, “Sword...salute! Ready...to!” and the swords flashed upward in a Roman sword salute, arm outstretched, then fell to the ready position, forty five degrees downward. This was an ancient ritual that displayed the men’s weapons, and their willingness to forego their use.

  The governor was not impressed with the ceremony, and did not return the honor. He immediately confronted the trio in passable but accented Greek. “What hell you do here? Destroy my port, kill my people, stir up trouble with king! What hell you do here? These boats... my people’s livelihood!” He sputtered in anger, unable to say anything more coherent.

  Gaius replied, gently but firmly. “Your Excellency, you know that we were defending ourselves. That mob attacked our crew, killing one and injuring several. They rioted on the docks for hours with no sign of your urban cohorts. When they began to board their ‘means of livelihood’ to attack our ship, we defended ourselves, since you would not. And they attacked again, a few hours later, and still you did nothing. As for the king, perhaps you can enlighten us as to why he thinks we are invading your city. I understand you and he are close friends.” He paused, waiting for a reply.

  None came, so Gaius continued. “As you can see, had we wished to invade your town, we could have had it hours ago. So if you will be so kind as to inform the king of our peaceful intentions, that we will depart, and leave you two to your friendship.”

  The provincial governor was silent, glowering at the insolent Roman.

  “Of course, should we succeed in finding your king first, perhaps we could tell him the truth personally. Taprobane profits enormously from trade with Rome, and I am sure that he would not want to jeopardize that trade, just because some provincial governor wanted to stir up trouble.” Gaius folded his arms across his chest.

  The governor’s face betrayed a bit of panic. “I must defend townspeople, too,” he said. “They acted in haste and fear. But I want you leave Galle. Now. At once. I settle with the king when he arrives.”
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  Demetrios spoke up. “We would like to leave, also. But we cannot.”

  “Why not?” asked the governor.

  “Some twenty of my most valuable crewmembers have not yet returned from a very important task ashore, procuring much-needed lumber for repairs. Had they been aboard last night, we would have sailed, and none of this would have happened. They are two days overdue. Perhaps you know of their whereabouts?”

  The governor pondered this question, betraying that he knew very well where they were. “They are safe. But they are being held for the king’s arrival.”

  “Too bad. I had hoped that they could be returned, and we could leave before the king arrived. Now it seems that we may have to defend ourselves against him as well. For that we shall need our heavy weapons.” Gaius paused for effect in mid-bluff, then continued. “And I cannot promise that the rest of Galle can be protected from those weapons. You have seen what our light weapons can do.”

  The governor paused, obviously alarmed at what other weapons the ship might have at her disposal. “Perhaps for price. To cover cost of damage you inflicted on Galle. Then maybe I release them.”

  Ibrahim rejoined the bargaining. “Perhaps for the price we contracted for the necessary timber. And the timber, too.”

  “Of course, we can always wait for the king,” added Gaius.

  “I give you men, you leave?”

  Demetrios joined in the bargaining. “The men and the timber. We will be gone within hours after their return.”

  “Your men here in an hour, and timber. Then you, gone!” Bested, he turned on his heel and clambered down the rope ladder to the boat, and disappeared below. His bodyguards followed over, then more men came on deck to claim the wounded and the dead.

  True to his word, the governor delivered the carpenters and two partially-finished pieces of timber by barge late in the afternoon. And, true to their word, Ibrahim paid them the agreed-upon balance. They hoisted the timbers aboard, lashed them to the deck, and sailed at sunset.