Culich already knew of Kolsko from reports of his mysterious discovery, lying unconscious on an Abersford beach, and his subsequent introduction of novel products. Culich had personal experience and appreciation of the new kerosene lanterns whose light was so much brighter than the older whale oil models. He also grudgingly converted to new soaps and toilet papers after cajoling by his wife, Breda, and he likewise admitted the new whiskeys rolled smoother on the tongue. He had no experience with other products whose value he accepted without personal experience, not needing to avail himself of new medical procedures or the “kotex” Breda assured him that all younger women treasured.
What was new from St. Sidryn’s were reports that Kolsko had suggested not to defend the abbey walls against the raiders but to let them into the abbey courtyard and a trap. Everyone outside St. Sidryn’s and Abersford, including Culich Keelan, had thought the idea insane. However, those who knew Kolsko were not so sure, and, more important, Denes Vegga had listened and followed the advice. Whether the successful defense was due to Kolsko’s mad idea, sheer luck, or a miracle from God was actively argued, but it convinced Culich he needed to meet this outsider to Caedellium.
“Yes, Father, you wanted to see me?” queried Maera.
“Yes, there’s something I wanted to discuss with you. First, though, you’ve seen all the reports coming out of Moreland about more and more sightings of Eywellese crossing the clan border into Moreland and now several small raids. Do you have any thoughts?”
She was blunt, as always. “The Narthani will try to take Moreland. The province is in the center of Caedellium, and once under Narthani control, they’d have a foothold in the island’s heart. All indications are Moreland is their next target. The only question is when they move, and it’s only a matter of time. If I guessed, I’d say a year, at most.”
He grunted, having hoped for a different conclusion from his own.
“All the more important is the outcome of the conclave at Orosz City. The other clan hetmen need to understand what’s happening and prepare their people for what may come. The conclave is the best chance to convince them.”
“Do you really expect such recognition at this meeting, Father?”
Although her voice may have sounded like she was asking for an answer, he knew her opinion. “You’re right. This is more a meeting out of duty and hope, rather than expectations. However, I’m obliged to try.” Culich’s face drew down into discouragement. “Since it’s not a formal All-Clan Conclave, attendance by all hetmen isn’t mandatory, nor do they even need to send a representative. The best I hope for is that two-thirds of the clans will be there and half of the hetmen. That’s my hope, though my prediction is lower.”
“A great Caedellium philosopher once said that all a man can do is his best,” said Maera.
Culich smiled. It was something he himself was fond of saying. “Obviously, a great thinker.”
“Obviously,” replied Maera innocently.
He could always count on her to lift his mood. God, what will I do if she marries and moves away?
“And the reports from St. Sidryn’s?” asked Culich. “You’ve read all those as well. I’m particularly interested in the references to the mysterious stranger who washed up near Abersford and is cutting quite a swath around St. Sidryn’s and now farther afield. Sounds like something out of a child’s story.”
“True, but the fruits of his coming are evident here in Caernford and throughout the province. With the Narthani stopping trade for the poppy powder, you can understand how many would consider the ether of Kolsko an answer of prayers to God. And all the other things he’s introduced, like kerosene. Everyone is switching to the new kerosene lamps as soon as they’re available.”
“Yes, it’s amazing, though I admit I’ve been too occupied to pay enough attention to everything. But now, with the reports of the St. Sidryn’s raid, I wonder again just who is this Yozef Kolsko?”
“Obviously, you need to meet him for yourself.”
“That’s what Abbot Sistian suggested when he was here after the raid, that I go to Abersford and evaluate for myself this mystery person, this Yozef Kolsko.”
Maera raised an eyebrow. “You should go there to meet him. Not he come here?” Her tone conveyed her surprise that the clan hetman would consider traveling to meet a commoner who wasn’t even a clan member.
“I have the impression Sistian is concerned that Kolsko might refuse to come. Certainly, Sistian has cautioned me several times to remember the man is not from Caedellium and has peculiar ideas. He also believes Kolsko is more comfortable where he is, and I should see him in that environment first, whatever that means. I know, it sounds odd and somehow mysterious in itself, but there you are.”
“Well,” she replied, “Abbot Sistian isn’t one to play games, so I’d be tempted to follow his advice.”
“I agree, and I’ve been thinking more and more about such a trip. Of course, that’s not possible for a few sixdays, because I leave soon for the conclave meeting. What I’m thinking is that since you’re always interested in rummaging through St. Sidryn's library, you could go in my place. I might then consider a visit sometime in the next few months after I hear your impressions.”
Maera’s normally serious expression morphed into delight, something that lightened his mood.
“Oh, Father, that would be wonderful. I love Sistian and Diera dearly and haven’t visited the abbey in over two years.”
Culich knew Maera would devour any new books the library had obtained since her last visit, and she was always interested in the medicant profession, St. Sidryn’s being acknowledged as one of the best sites for medicant training and housing a modest-sized, though influential, group of scholastics. If she had been born into a different family, he suspected Maera might have entered either the medicant or the scholastic order, although such a vocation was impossible, given her family position.
“Plus, Father, I confess I’m interested in seeing this Yozef Kolsko myself. I have had several letters from Diera, and they often sound almost euphoric. Not just the ether, but other pieces of knowledge Diera believes will revolutionize treatments for illnesses and injuries. She didn’t give details, which means I’m dying to learn more.”
“It’s settled then,” he said. “Go ahead and plan your trip. I’ll probably be gone three sixdays, so let’s say we plan your visit to last a month.”
Chapter 3: The Sword
The nightmares became less frequent, although they reinforced Yozef’s trepidation about open warfare breaking out with the Narthani. He ruminated over what knowledge from Earth might help the islanders survive. Although he wasn’t optimistic, his plans coalesced one evening while walking from Abersford to his house. The darkness and the alien stars helped focus his mind, there being no way to ignore, even for a moment, that this wasn’t Earth. He had to act to survive.
As he walked the half-mile to his house, those stars provided the only light. The smaller of Anyar’s two moons, Haedan, would rise soon. The larger moon, Aedan, wouldn’t be seen until early morning. Even with both moons visible, they reflected a quarter of Luna’s light at full phase. Compensating, more stars filled the Anyarian night than on Earth. He could see several prominent star clusters and the Anyar version of the Milky Way, here called the River of Stars, high in the sky. One tight star cluster looked as though it had scores of stars, which Yozef suspected meant it contained hundreds, with most stars not bright enough to be seen under the blaze of their bigger brethren. Even without the moons, the star array gave enough illumination that, once his eyes adjusted, making his way down the roads and the paths was easy.
The stars, the sea air drifting onshore this time of evening, and firefly-like Anyarian insects, of which several sizes flashed yellow or green, together often provided a reflective time in preparation for a night’s sleep.
But not tonight. His thoughts refused to divert from the raid and future implications, and he spoke them aloud in English, a habit he indul
ged in when no Caedelli was within hearing.
“A raid is one thing, but what if the Narthani move on the other clans with an army? From what I can learn, the Caedelli have no direct experience with real warfare and seem naïve. Their idea of a battle is masses of horsemen charging one another. What would be the Narthani methods of war? If the military tactics here are on a similar timeline to the general levels of technology I’ve seen, then the Narthani have infantry formations, cannon, cavalry screening, reconnaissance and pursuit, and maneuvering tactics. War is a strict taskmaster. A mainland realm like Narthon will have developed sophisticated tactics.
“Just think of cannon alone. From descriptions I’ve heard, the Narthani warships mount cannon, so their army must use them, too. What about the Caedelli? I’ve neither heard nor seen anything about cannon. Are there any cannon or cannon making on Caedellium?
“And what about me? Lord knows, I wasn’t ready to defend myself against anyone, much less experienced Buldorian mercenaries. There weren’t many sword or musket fights in Berkeley. I’m lucky I survived with only the scar on my leg and the occasional limp.
“Carnigan didn’t joke when he handed me that spear and told me not stick him with it.”
The volume of his voice had increased, as he continued talking out loud to himself. He stopped, afraid to arouse the Faughns and have them wondering what was wrong with him. However, somehow his mind had cleared. He had used the spear but didn’t fool himself. Alone against a real opponent, he would have died quickly and in agony. He had to accept where he was and a level of potential violence far beyond anything he would have experienced in his old life. Worse, he had a bad feeling the raid on St. Sidryn’s wouldn’t be the only time it happened.
He shook his head, as if discarding conflicting thoughts and leaving clarity. No. There it was. He’d have to learn the basics of handling weapons. Maybe Carnigan or Denes could be persuaded to give lessons.
And what about the islanders? He’d introduced ether, pure alcohol, kerosene, and new soaps and papers, all from elementary aspects of chemistry. He should be able to come up with things that go bang, like cannons, grenades, mines, and rockets. He hoped.
Cannon
The next morning, he hustled toward his shops clustered between Abersford and St. Sidryn’s, eager to gather information. Cadwulf Beynom was his first target. The eldest son of Abbot Sistian and Abbess Diera Beynom was a mathematics prodigy who soaked up everything Yozef could remember about mathematics and was writing a textbook Cadwulf believed would revolutionize Anyarian mathematics. He was also Yozef’s friend and the manager of the Bank of Abersford, the B of A, as Yozef insisted on referring to another of his innovations, the first formal bank on the island. Yozef found him at the bank talking with two staff members.
“Yes, I know what cannon are. I’ve seen them on ships, and Preddi City had cannon defending the harbor to discourage pirates, but the Narthani control Preddi now.”
“No others?”
“Not that I’m aware of.”
“Are any made on Caedellium?”
“No. Why do you ask?”
“Just some thoughts I’ve had. We need cannon in case of more raids, or worse, but you have to cast bronze or iron to make them.”
“Casting? You mean like we use to make the bells for abbeys? They were all made in Preddi City before the Narthani came. New ones aren’t possible since the Narthani took over Preddi Province.”
Hell, I should have thought of that. Bells and cannon! Both are casting chunks of metal. If you can make a bell, you should be able to use the same techniques for cannon . . . maybe.
Yozef left Cadwulf to his ledgers and walked to Abersford. He now knew the concept of metal casting existed on Caedellium. He went straight to the alcohol distillery building and found Brellen Nyfork, the Preddi who’d escaped the Narthani with his family and now ran the alcohol and whiskey production. Brellen was working with two other men, cleaning one of the distillation set-ups, when Yozef motioned him aside.
“Brellen, do you know what a cannon is?”
“Of course. Why do you ask?”
“I understand that none are made on Caedellium, but that bells were made in Preddi City before the Narthani came. Did you know anything about the process?”
“No. I daily passed by the building where they were made in Preddi City and was inside a few times. Besides bells, they did metal work of all kinds—grills for windows and doors, decorative grillwork, cooking pots, wagon parts, and other smaller objects. As for the bells, I never saw how they did it.”
Yozef’s face fell. He had expected it unlikely Brellen knew bell making but had hoped for luck.
“Maybe my cousin Yawnfol would know.”
“Who?”
“Yawnfol Nyfork is also an escaped Preddi. He lives in Clengoth and worked in a Preddi City metal shop for a few months before his family fled the Narthani. I’d ask him about bell making.”
Bingo!
Five days later, Yozef returned from Clengoth, accompanied by a twenty-year-old Preddi as a technical “expert.” Although Yawnfol Nyfork had worked for the Preddi City metalworker only two months, he had absorbed much of the basic knowledge required for metal casting. Not that he had practical experience casting cannon, but Yozef figured that would come with making mistakes.
A new workshop was built near Abersford in the “industrial park” alongside Yozef’s workshops for ether, ethanol, kerosene, papers, and soaps. Nyfork and Cadwulf hired three more workers, and the cannon foundry began work.
The first goal was to produce a useable swivel gun, a small cannon mounted on a moveable stand or point to allow rapid pointing in different directions. Typically, they were a yard long, with a bore of no more than two and a half inches, and were used as a large shotgun to fire musket balls. While of no use against ships or any serious shielding, they were effective against personnel.
To Yozef’s frustration, he couldn’t remember the fine details of cannon making on Earth. When his airplane had collided with the Watchers’ spacecraft, his injuries were so severe they had used microscopic autonomous machines, nanomachines, to help repair the injuries. They had also modified his mitochondria, the subcellular organelles that generate energy for metabolism, to compensate for Anyar’s heavier gravity. A side effect of these treatments was his ability to recall sections of texts he had read. Unfortunately, the enhanced memory was sporadic. He could recall whole chapters of organic chemistry and the instruction manual for a strategy video game but could dredge up only a few details on cannon making. He would advise the workers, then would have to trust to trial and error.
After Yozef had a session with Yawnfol and the three other workers assigned to this new project, they decided on a two-inch bore and two-and-a half-foot barrel. They used bronze, the alloy of copper and tin. Yozef remembered that bronze was preferred over iron in early cannon, because iron tended to burst annoyingly often, with less than desirable consequences for gun crews. Until they had more experience, bronze was safer, plus the cannon firing the same charges could be lighter than the same bore iron cannon, an advantage for both horse artillery and manual maneuvering of the guns. The shop Yawnfol had been lured from in Clengoth specialized in bronze products, so Yozef arranged with copper and tin sources to obtain sufficient metal for experiments.
He also recalled that most bronze cannon on Earth were cast as a solid piece and then the bore drilled out. The problem was what to drill with. He assumed the best option would be drill bits of the hardest iron possible. However, since Yawnfol had explained how bells were cast hollow, Yozef figured they would try a single-step cast, and then any drilling would be to smooth out imperfections in the barrel’s bore. To hold the position of the bore, the mold would be placed vertically and a hard-baked clay cylinder positioned inside the mold where the bore would be. They poured molten bronze into the mold, and when cooled, the clay center was drilled out. Next, they assessed, if the bore were centered in the barrel, by inserting a wooden rod t
he diameter of the bore into the barrel, any significant slanting of the bore could be seen by rolling the barrel and noting whether the rod stayed in approximately the same angle. If not, they’d melt down the barrel and recast.
Although Yozef cringed at the whole process, it worked. If the bore was uniform, a crude iron bit drilled the bore’s internal surface reasonably smooth. They then drilled a vent in the closed end of the barrel to allow firing, and the barrel clamped to an immovable block to test-fire. They decided that if a barrel didn’t rupture after ten firings, they would assume success.
It sounded simple and was, in principle. Performance of the simple was the problem. The twenty-fourth cast produced the first swivel barrel to survive mounting on a carriage. The second success came eleven casts later, the third on the next seventh cast, and after the fourth they were successful half of the time.
Yozef planned on eventually casting 12-pounder cannon—field pieces firing twelve-pound projectiles: round shot, two-inch grapeshot, or canister-holding musket balls—the standard cannon for Napoleon’s armies and modified versions used by both sides during the U.S. Civil War. The first dozen 12-pounder casts were such disasters, they gave up and tried 9-pounder barrels, with no better results.
They moved to 6-pounders, which Yozef remembered were used effectively by the United States in the Mexican War of 1846–1848 and in the U.S. Civil War as horse artillery–cannon mobile enough to accompany cavalry units. Anything smaller wouldn’t be appreciatively better than the swivels his foundry already produced.
By the twenty-eighth pour, no 6-pounder bronze barrel was successful. Although Yozef thought they could eventually work through the problems, instinct told him time was running out for testing, with rumors and reports of increasing incursions into clan territories, and a new Preddi escapee detailing large-scale movements of combined infantry, cavalry, and artillery. If the Narthani moved soon, the only cannon Yozef and his men had produced were the swivel guns.
The Pen and the Sword (Destiny's Crucible Book 2) Page 2