by Roland Green
Hooped wrought iron would do for the four and eight pounders, but Hostigos already had about as many of those as there'd be horses to draw. What was needed was the heavies, the sixteen pounders and those thirty-two pound siege guns he'd been dreaming of since last summer. Made of brass and firing either solid shot or iron shells-he'd seen the first experimental shells last week-the heavies would pry open any tarr he'd seen here-and-now like a sardine can. Made of hooped wrought iron, those brutes would simply be too heavy to move over here-and-now roads without slaughtering draft animals like hoof-and-mouth disease.
Wait a minute! If he couldn't make siege guns with hooped wrought iron, what about siege mortars? They would be made large enough to lob a really destructive shell a few hundred yards and have a trajectory that would carry it over any walls. Solid shot, too. If castles couldn't be battered open, perhaps they could be hammered flat from above. Or, at least, made uninhabitable if the shells could be filled with some sort of incendiary compound…
Of course, the mortars would have to be very short range in order to be light enough to move easily. Four or five hundred yards would probably be the limit. However, they could easily be dug into pits like the one being used for gun testing. It would require some fancy shooting to hit them, and a few dozen riflemen in other pits close to the walls could discourage any gunners standing in the open long enough for that.
Mortars might be a poor man's weapon, but Kalvan had been at the wrong end of enough Chinese mortar barrages to have a lively respect for them. Besides, anything that impressed castle-holders that a siege was no longer something to sneer at would be an asset to the Great Kingdom.
Kalvan sent a page off to his tent for a piece of the thin-cut pine he used in place of notepads and some charcoal. For at least the fiftieth time he cursed the slowness of the paper project which had worked up only as far as a high grade of mush. For the fortieth time he realized that Brother Mytron was doing the best he could with the knowledge and tools at hand, not to mention the time he could spare for the paper project. Mytron in fact now wore three hats: he was Royal Papermaker of Hos-Hostigos, Surgeon-General to the Royal Army and Rector of the new University of Hostigos. Unofficially, he was also chief Rylla-watcher, a job in which Ptosphes and Kalvan gave him all the help their military duties allowed. That wasn't much, with the campaign season growing nearer each day. As soon as the streams and rivers shrank a bit…
Unfortunately, the warm weather had only given Rylla her own bad case of cabin fever; she felt fine and was firmly convinced that keeping her shut up like the crown jewels was good for neither her nor the baby. She argued the point with her husband, her father, with Brother Mytron and even Head Midwife Amasphalya, who as a girl of fifteen had helped her grandmother bring Ptosphes into the world.
Maybe Rylla had a point. Certainly there were plenty of "good breeders," as Amasphalya put it, among the women on both sides of her family. Maybe Princess Demia's troubles hadn't been passed on to her daughter? Maybe any baby who didn't miscarry from its mother's temper tantrums could easily survive mere cannon shot? Maybe Kalvan was being a little selfish, keeping Rylla shut up, just to save himself one more headache?
Maybe, but he wasn't going to change his mind now. If Rylla sailed through the last two months of her pregnancy as well as she did the first seven, she could have her next baby in a trench at the siege of Balph if she wanted to. But for this one, she'd stay put!
The page returned with the pine board and charcoal. Kalvan realized he was hungry and sent the boy off to the gunner's mess to scrounge some food and wine. Rylla claimed he didn't keep enough ceremony with his meals, but he'd be damned if he was going to waste time with that sort of thing now. With a twenty-nine hour day and no need for sleep, he just might get done half of the things that needed doing no more than a moon or two late.
III
Kalvan was finishing his first sketch of an eight-inch mortar and the wing of a rather tough goose, when he heard one of his pages clearing his throat. "Your Majesty, Duke Chartiphon wishes audience."
Kalvan tossed the goose bones aside, wiped his hands on his breeches and stood to greet Chartiphon. Despite his new titles and responsibilities, the old Captain-General of Hostigos appeared much the same as he had when Kalvan had first entered Tarr-Hostigos. He was a big man with a gray-streaked golden beard and rugged features, still wearing the same battered and lead-splotched breastplate and two-handed sword.
Chartiphon bowed, then motioned to a man standing beside him to come forward. "Your Majesty, this is Ranthar, a free trader come from Grefftscharr. He bears a message from Colonel Verkan."
Ranthar was a tough-looking young man with sandy hair and a bristling beard; he wore well-worn leather riding clothes and looked to be well under thirty until you saw his eyes. Kalvan hoped he would have a chance to hear from Ranthar the stories of some of what those eyes had seen.
More immediately to the point was the signet ring on Ranthar's left middle finger; it was Zygrosi work, plain brass, and there were only four rings like it in the whole world-none of them likely to be in the possession of someone Colonel Verkan didn't trust.
"You've assured yourself of a warm welcome already, Trader Ranthar. How is Verkan?"
Trader Ranthar bowed gracefully, as though meeting Great Kings was an everyday event for him, then smiled. "Colonel Verkan was well the last time I saw him. Also very busy, putting together a shipment of victuals and weapons for Your Majesty's use. He sent me on ahead overland with a pack train while he followed the ships across the Saltless Seas to Thagnor, Morthron, the Nythros City States and Ulthor Port. If you send men to Ulthor Port now, they should be just in time to meet him and help unload his cargo swiftly."
Ranthar handed Kalvan a leather wrapped wooden tablet listing what Verkan was sending. It was quite an impressive list, with its most notable entries, a thousand stand of muskets, five tons of Kalvan-formula fireseed, six hundred sets of pikeman's armor and a hundred tons of grain and salt pork. Also a thousand ingots of brass and two hundred of lead riding on Ranthar's pack animals along with a miscellany of gunlocks, flints, powder horns and other lightweight but necessary gear.
"Well done," Kalvan said. "See my Paymaster at the Treasury for twenty gold Crowns for yourself. I'll tell Colonel Verkan that he's chosen a good messenger."
Not that this was any surprise; a free trader who didn't learn to pick good subordinates probably wouldn't live to wear out his first hunting knife.
"My Thanks, Your Majesty," Ranthar said. "Colonel Verkan says he wishes he could have sent more sooner. However, the nomads of the Sea of Grass are now on the move. King Theovacar would let neither food, nor arms, nor fireseed leave his realm until he was certain the nomads were not turning north. Even then, Colonel Verkan had to pledge all he owned and all he could borrow from his fellow traders in payment."
"He will be repaid in full, if not before the campaign, then afterward."
"At Styphon's expense?"
"Exactly."
Ranthar's report confirmed others, both about the nomads and about Theovacar's character. Theovacar was in his mid-to-late twenties and definitely ambitious to expand his kingdom, but equally determined not to risk what he already had. Not a bad man to do business with if you had something of value to bargain with-and Kalvan realized that if he offered to show Theovacar the way to the copper and iron deposits around Lake Superior, he'd have something the man should jump at. Also a permanent solution to any shortage of metal for cannon.
He'd have to talk with Verkan when he arrived in Hostigos Town to be sure he wasn't planning to sell King Theovacar knowledge he already had. Even if the ore deposits were known, of course, that didn't mean they couldn't use a better way of getting the metal from the shores of Lake Superior down to the docks of Greffa.
Kalvan only knew a little more about mining than he did about paper making, but it could also solve his shortage of artillery…
He'd have to work mostly with Verkan, of course. That might m
ean turning the man from Colonel of the Mounted Rifles into here-and-now's first copper magnate, which would be a pity; the man was too good a combat officer to be spared easily. However, it was probably necessary; one of these days Kalvan might have to stop making ten men do the work of fifty, but he suspected he'd be a grandfather before that day was even in sight.
Ranthar was now fumbling something out of his belt pouch. "This is not from Colonel Verkan, it was from a man who thought someone trusted by the Colonel would be the best way to send it to Your Majesty secretly. As you will surely see, it would be the end of him if any of Styphon's minions were to discover his betrayal. I shall tell you the man was on his way from Agrys City, but I would rather not tell any more."
He handed Kalvan a piece of parchment, folded in four and with the badge of the Inner Circle of Styphon's House stamped into the sealing wax. It directed a certain sea captain to transport two thousand cattle southward in ships to the mouth of the Thebra (Potomac River). He was to return with a full Lance of Zarthani Knights, landing them in Harphax City no later than eighteen days from today. The meaning of the date was obvious; it was about when the Harphaxi were supposed to march. That in itself was useful to know, although Kalvan had never had any intention of waiting more than another half moon.
This last minute movement of Knights, particularly when the Harphaxi Army would need more than a single Lance to stiffen its spine, was perplexing. They had three Lances of Zarthani Knights-with oath brothers and auxiliaries about twenty-five hundred horse-with them already, according to his spies, but they would need five or six more to stiffen the well-born nitwits and ill-paid mercenaries of their cavalry enough to face the Army of Hos-Hostigos.
Several of the 'traders' working for Skranga had reported troop movements throughout Hos-Ktemnos and, for the last half-moon, it had been apparent that Styphon's varsity would be coming from the south. Kalvan didn't like the idea of dividing his forces, but it looked as though he wouldn't have a choice.
There have been rumors of bad blood between the Harphaxi and Styphoni, who were mostly Knights and Styphon's Own Guard, popularly known as the Red Hand for their bloody treatment of enemies and allies alike. The Temple Guardsmen were placed behind unreliable mercenary companies or poorly trained levies with orders to kill all those who turned, ran or attempted to surrender. The Red Hand weren't above killing civilians, either; if that's what it took to put down a peasant uprising. Mostly recruited from hardened mercenary units, Styphon's Own Guard gave one and all, high and low, respect for the might of Styphon's House-and a healthy dose of fear as well.
Was Soton was using his Knights to put some backbone into the Harphaxi Army? If so, were even more Lances moving toward Harphax City? Or was the Inner Circle, now that it had decided to fight its own war, strengthening the Harphaxi just enough to make them a better grade of cannon fodder? If that could be proved and a word whispered into Great King Kaiphranos' ear by a well-placed and reliable secret agent, if there were such a thing… He'd have to talk with Skranga about whether or not they had such a spy.
One thing was certain; this wasn't something he could decide all by himself. "Chartiphon, send out messengers. We're going to hold a Council of War at Tarr-Hostigos. Count Phrames should be arriving from Beshta sometime tomorrow, so we'll set it for tomorrow night. I want Ptosphes, Klestreus, Xentos, Rylla and Brother Mytron."
"Good news?"
Kalvan shook his head. "I'm afraid not. Styphon's House is up to more of their slippery tricks. Here. Take this message to Prince Ptosphes and have him read it to you."
Chartiphon nodded and left. Like most Zarthani men who were not scribes or priests, he felt no shame at not being able to read, although he was good at recognizing map symbols. Harmakros was the same way. Fortunately, most of the upper nobility and merchants knew how to read and write the Zarthani runes, but Chartiphon had begun his career as a simple trooper and owed his rank to Ptosphes' eye for talent.
Kalvan turned to Trader Ranthar. "I'm afraid you'll have to stay in protective custody for a while. It's not that we don't trust you, it's that I don't trust Styphon's House not to have spies here. If they learn what you've done, the first news I might have for Verkan is that you've been kidnapped and tortured for what you might know about their plans. That would be poor payment to him, and even worse to you."
Ranthar laughed. "Thank you, Your Majesty. I hope you're not allowing the Styphoni more common sense than they've shown thus far."
"I'd rather give them credit for too much, than for too little."
Ranthar nodded, and at Kalvan's gesture of dismissal bowed himself away. He suspected that Ranthar would visit the nearest tavern, probably the Crossed Halberds or Silver Stag, and have a drink or two before surrendering himself to protective custody. After he left, Kalvan directed several of his plainclothes bodyguards to discreetly follow the Trader and make certain he wasn't accosted until he was in custody.
Left alone except for the pages and bodyguards watching him from a discreet distance, Kalvan began to pace up and down. It was now certain that Hostigos was faced with something more like a war on two fronts than a single attack with two prongs. That would throw all their strategic plans into the melting pot, and mean major changes at the last minute. Of course, it would also mean the same for the Harphaxi, and because they were so much less likely to be able to cope with last minute changes to their plans, things might just balance out.
Kalvan decided to stop worrying about troop movements until he had a map in front of him and some reliable advice in his ear. One thing was certain: the University's next job after developing paper was going to be inventing a semaphore system. Relay riders would have to do for this campaign, but he would need something faster if he was going to have to make a habit of coordinating two or three armies spread over two or three hundred miles of real estate. Napoleon's campaign in Russia had fallen apart as much because of lack of staff communications as because of supply problems.
Also, a system of codes-nothing fancy, simple substitution would do-for now. There was no evidence that Styphon's House used ciphers, but it needed to be confirmed. Note: Have Skranga spend whatever gold necessary to purchase an ear in the Inner Circle. The Inner Circle was as corrupt as the French Papacy had been during the Babylonian Captivity. There had to be an Archpriest for sale. Skranga's biggest problem so far was getting a spy with the proper credentials, preferably that of a Highpriest of Styphon's House. The upper priesthood of Styphon's House was as status conscious as the Court of Louis the XVI and thus almost as unapproachable. Furthermore, Balph had buttoned up its breeches and was checking credentials at the gates and docks.
Finally, do something about the Temple's command of the sea. Styphon's House hadn't done much with it this time; until now most of the troops moving into Harphax City from the south and from Hos-Agrys had marched overland, supplied out of the Temple warehouses when they couldn't buy or forage locally. This might be about to change; one of Xentos' friends who had already reached Agrys City had written to him reporting many laden merchant vessels sailing up the Hudson and returning empty. Put Skranga on that, too. Was Great King Demistophon planning on joining the war? If so, on whose side?
This war would be decided on land. The next time, Styphon's ships might do a lot more damage and Kalvan had no desire to play the role of the French in some here-and-now future Mahan's Influence of Seapower on the Wars Against Styphon's House.
Royal Navy of Hos-Hostigos. Note: put on the list of long-term projects. Now what about ports; they had one on the Great Lakes-Ulthor Port; now they needed one in the Atlantic. This might mean rolling up more of Hos-Harphax than he had planned, but that would have to wait. This coming campaign would be for survival and more time. Time, the one thing Styphon's House seemed determined to deny him.
ELEVEN
The sunset light reddened the walls of First Speaker Anaxthenes' chamber and the smoke curling up from Soton's pipe. The First Speaker's luxurious chamber was perched at the second
highest level of Styphon's High Temple. Below them all of Balph stretched as far as the Great Wharf, bathed in a sea of red.
After his inconclusive meeting with Great King Kaiphranos, Soton had left Harphax City at the next high tide. The wine in his cup was already red; he sipped at it and tried to shut out Archpriest Roxthar's voice breathing fire and slaughter against Prince Philesteus. It was not wise to ignore Archpriest Roxthar completely even when he was apparently talking for the sheer pleasure of relieving his feelings or hearing the sound of his own voice.
The tall, dour Archpriest made a dangerous enemy and a quarrel with him would put Soton at the mercy of Anaxthenes, who was a good deal less bloodthirsty but considerably more skilled at taking advantage of another's mistakes. Great Styphon, what I wouldn't give for a stout Lance of Knights and a band of Sastragathi berserkers to fight instead of all this verbal swordplay!
Eventually Roxthar went off the boil and bubbled into silence. Anaxthenes refilled everybody's cups and appeared to lose himself in contemplating the sunset. From outside he could hear the muffled sounds of clanking armor and boisterous cries that signaled the changing of the watch in Balph.
When he had his audience squirming in their seats, Anaxthenes began, "What are we to do, then, now that King Kaiphranos appears to have lost what wits he had? Roxthar, we know your advice is to deprive Kaiphranos of his Captain-General by charging Duke Aesthes with heresy. You say that with no other captain fit to command the army of Hos-Harphax against the Daemon Kalvan, Kaiphranos will either have to send Lysandros into the field or turn to Styphon's House for aid. That is wet fireseed! With Aesthes out of the field, Kaiphranos will appoint his elder son, Prince Philesteus, as commander of the Harphaxi Army-and that would be a complete disaster for Hos-Harphax and Styphon's House. As well as a gift to the Usurper! What say you, Grand Master Soton?"
What Soton would have liked to express was his desire to spend half a candle taking his warhammer to Kaiphranos, Philesteus and Duke Aesthes. However, that course had even more disadvantages than Roxthar's since it could be seen as moving directly against Great Kings or important Princes. Styphon's House had to show itself loyal to those rulers who at least did not lift a hand against it or else mold the bullet for Kalvan to fire into its head-as some of these blockheads appeared ready to do. Unlike Roxthar, Anaxthenes appeared to have some grasp of politics outside of the Temple turkey roost.