by Gordon Ryan
“Is that safe? There could still be spies in the castle. The enemy will be interested in how much we know.”
“Maybe, but the bigger risk is to keep jerking people around. They were mad as hell and they deserve whatever answers you can give them. We’ll have to take the risk.”
“You get anything more out of Peter?” Niels asked.
“About half of what you just told me. I don’t think he’s holding out, he really has no idea why they’re targeting us.”
“Hmm. I was hoping he’d know. He hand-picked half the people in the enemy camp, so he must know some of the people in on this.”
They made their way to the battlements to have a look down at the enemy encampment. Kirkov had raised a second, smaller trebuchet during the night. The larger weapon would be immobile, while the smaller could move from target to target.
There was movement at the enemy trebuchets. Men tightened ropes on the smaller machine. Half a dozen others turned at a wheel on the larger machine. The counterweight lifted inch-by-inch as the sling arm lowered to the ground.
“From the size of those stones, I’d say they’re planning to hit the walls, not fire into the castle,” Tess said. “Hard to say until their first shot.”
“Never thought I’d be looking at my machines from this vantage,” Niels said.
“I think I prefer my old friend at Château des Baux. Somehow, it didn’t look so deadly.”
“Nothing like staring down the business end of a machine strong enough to fling a man four hundred meters,” he said.
Tess thought about Borisenko, crushed like an egg dropped from an airplane, and the horrific encores. Kirkov had first hurled a man against the castle walls, then dropped his third victim into the bailey. The last man landed on his legs and that kept him alive to suffer for most of the night. She could still hear the screams and held in her mind the picture of bones like tree branches, snapped in two and then broken again.
“How is the weaponry coming?” she asked.
“By tonight every man and woman in the castle will have a sharpened sword,” Niels said. “I’ve scraped up every bit of pitch and lead in the castle. How about the defenses?”
“Well, you can see the hoardings. The murder holes are in better shape, too. And we found the hole Dmitri opened for Yekatarina. That’s a hell of a weakness.”
“But not so much now that we know it’s there.”
“Exactly. The key is to manage their attack. Force them where we want to go.” Tess hesitated. “There’s something that’s been bothering me since yesterday. Nobody saw Kirkov or those other men until they came into your camp. They must have come from off island.”
“Right. By boat, I would assume, we’d have heard a helicopter. And they’d have had to register a flight plan, since there’s an air force base near Burlington. Maybe they thought that attention was too risky.”
“Sure, I’ve thought about that. And with the winds that night, it might have been tough for a helicopter. That’s not my question, anyway.”
“Okay, what is it, then?” Niels asked.
“So they came in a boat. They’re illegal participants from the moment they arrived. And now they’re trying to kill us.”
“I think we’ve established those as facts, yes.”
“So what would you do if you wanted to break into the castle and you weren’t constrained by rules? Remember, you’re in the 21st Century.”
Niels blinked. “Oh, my god. Explosives. I’d throw some plastique or dynamite against the wall and blow the hell out of it. I got so caught up with all this medieval war stuff that it never occurred to me.”
“Yeah, well it’s the first thing I thought of. But we don’t have to worry about explosives. Otherwise, they wouldn’t have bothered with armor and swords yesterday, they’d have come at us with AK-47s and sawed-off shotguns. Cut down everyone outside the castle and then blown a hole in the gates after Peter and I were dead.”
“So why didn’t they?”
“We’re only a mile or two offshore,” Tess said. “And there are boats on the lake. It’s the same reason they didn’t swoop in on a helicopter and land it right in the bailey. That sort of thing is going to bring the Coast Guard and the police. They might have guns, but only for a shot or two that might be mistaken for target practice, or hunting. No way they can risk an extended gun battle, or shoot at us every time we poke our heads up above the castle wall. But until we’re sure, let’s assume they do have some modern weapons down there, they just haven’t brought them out yet. I want everyone else thinking that way, too.”
“Damn near killed us anyway,” Niels said.
“Right. It wasn’t a problem of weapons. They thought they could turn you and they failed.”
“And Kirkov thought he could kill you on the tournament pitch.”
“Don’t get the wrong idea about that. I’m lucky to be alive.”
“He underestimated your skill with a sword,” Niels said. “I’d never make that mistake.”
“And I’m glad you’re on my side and not down there giving advice to the enemy.”
He smiled.
Tess felt suddenly embarrassed. “So we each think the other person is great. Let’s interrupt the mutual admiration society to get back to my question.”
“Right. It’s the twenty-first century, I need to break into a castle and I can’t use explosives.”
“Do you think the trebuchet, bore, ram, etc., would be good enough?” she asked. “Or would you get some machine?”
“A bore, but powered by a machine. The right tools would turn that wall to Swiss cheese.”
“Sure,” Tess said, “but how do you get your bore to the island? It would be the size of a bulldozer. And you’ve still got to get right next to the walls. If it’s got an internal combustion motor, we could set it on fire.”
“Then I don’t know,” Niels said. “Let me think about it.”
“They’re going to pull out every dirty trick they can think of. I want to think of them first so we can prepare our own surprises.”
“There it goes,” Niels said in a sharp voice.
The arm of the larger trebuchet touched the ground at the tip. The men strained at a stone that had to weigh three hundred pounds. It took a few minutes to wrestle it into the pouch and then get the men out of the way.
“Heads down!” Tess shouted.
She and Niels ducked behind the battlement. Men crouched with their hands about their heads. Niels and Tess peeked through the merlons.
The soldiers moved back from the trebuchet and Kirkov came forward.
“God, I hope that thing misfires,” she said. “Drop the stone right on his head.”
“It won’t,” Niels said. “I built it, remember? Then again, you can put the finest tool in the world in the hands of a toddler and he still might drill a hole in his foot.”
She started to laugh, but then Kirkov pulled the rope and the rest of her breath came out in a rush. The counterweight fell. The arm swung forward and the sling released its stone. The counterweight rocked back and forth as it moved to a resting state.
Tess lost the stone in the gray for a moment, then flinched as it came down. It slammed into the outer curtain with a tremendous crash. The wall shuddered. A cheer went up from the enemy encampment.
She collected herself. “Shit.”
“Wow,” Niels said. “I mean, wow.”
“You sound almost proud of yourself,” she said. “Couple of days of that and we’ll be in serious trouble.”
“Look on the plus side,” Niels said. “That was loud. That keeps going off every five minutes for the next couple of days, maybe someone will get curious.”
“That’s a very small plus.”
The second trebuchet launched its projectile. It was a burning ball that soared up and over the wall. It landed harmlessly in the middle of the bailey. Two men came running with a bucket of water.
“Wait!” she cried down to them. “Let’s see how it burns.
”
The stood back while the ball sizzled and burned. It kept burning for several minutes until she finally told them to douse it. She turned back to Niels.
“And what’s the plus side of that?” she asked.
Chapter Thirty-four:
The next time Tess descended into the dungeon she brought the other two women in the castle with her. Time to give Dmitri a working over. Tess fought her own exhaustion after multiple nights with sleep stolen in chunks of one, two hours; Dmitri must be dead on his feet.
He looked up when the three women arrived. He was chained in a slightly different position than last time she’d seen him, but still standing. Water dripped from his hair. Lars sat in a chair with a bucket and a dipper. The haggard look on his face matched that of his prisoner.
Daria LeFevre stood in front of Dmitri. “So this is the bastard.”
Daria was a slight Quebecois who’d lived the last twenty years in Manhattan. Tess had seen the Bohemian apartment she shared with her partner in Greenwich Village, where they ran a pottery studio. It was the stereotypical gay lifestyle, except for the multi-billion dollar family trust that Daria managed on the side.
“Yes, I’m the bastard. You must be the queer bitch.”
“Go to hell,” Susan Hartford said.
Susan was twice the size of Daria and ironically, somewhat butch in appearance to Daria’s beauty, although Tess knew that she was divorced with two teenage sons. She was an American currently living in Japan. Peter said she spoke five languages and had completed an apprenticeship with master sword maker in Kyoto, the only foreigner who could make that claim.
“Sounds like you’ve softened up a bit,” Tess said.
“That’s soft?” He started to laugh, but it quickly turned to a cough. “Should have saved it for you. You’re the hard-edged bitch in the room, aren’t you?”
“When I have to be. It sucks, but there you have it.”
“So, what’s with your friends? You back to the dancing girl plan? No offense to big-nose here, but I’ll take the lesbian. Bet she’s got nice tits.”
Tess turned to Daria and Susan to warn them if they were going to make another reaction. She needn’t have worried. They glared, but said nothing.
“You doing okay?” Tess asked Lars.
“Not really, no. I swear, I’m weakening faster than he is.”
“So long as you’ve kept him awake.”
“Yes, we’ve kept him awake. I gave him some water, like you told me. No food.”
“Perfect. Go take a break for a few hours. Find Miller or Talo. Tell them to give me about twenty minutes, then come take a turn with the prisoner.”
When he was gone, Tess turned back to Dmitri. “So, you’re in the hands of three women. What should we do with you?”
“Is that supposed to scare me?”
“Think if I was in your position. Only there were three men here, trying to humiliate me, get me to talk. What do you think they’d do first? Drop their pants and rape me up a bit, don’t you think?”
“Torture isn’t pretty. I’ve got an up-close and personal view at the moment. I’m not sure that rape is any worse than hanging by your arms for a couple of days.”
“Probably not.” She picked up the cat’s claw from the table. “And I’d take rape before I took this thing.” She set it down and picked up a set of pincers. “Or this thing. Aren’t you lucky that I said I wasn’t going to use any of this stuff?”
He said nothing.
“Would you like a break?” she asked.
“What do you mean?”
For an answer, she grabbed the chair Lars had been sitting in and carried it to Dmitri. Tess had briefed Susan ahead of time, and the woman pulled the peg on the wheel to loosen the man’s chains. Dmitri groaned as his arms came down. He sagged into the chair.
The women said nothing. Within seconds, Dmitri’s head began to droop.
“Now?” Susan asked.
“Not yet.”
Tess dipped her hand into the bucket. Cold as lake water. She waited a minute, maybe two, until he would be deep asleep. She hated it and hated Dmitri for making her resort to such tactics.
“Now,” she told Susan.
Susan cranked the wheel and Dmitri’s chains drew taught. Tess threw a dipper of water in his face and yanked away the chair. He sputtered and lurched to his feet.
“A short break, I know.”
“Goddamn you, Tess.” He looked like he was going to cry, but then seemed to regain mastery of his emotions.
“Dmitri, what are you doing? Do you really think the world was better a hundred years ago, or a thousand? You want to live in a world where people use this kind of stuff to destroy their enemies?”
“I was born in the Soviet Union, remember.”
“That’s right, you were,” she said, as if just remembering. “How many people did Stalin murder in the 1930s. Millions? Tens of millions? A few lovely famines to go along with all the tortures and executions. But you could go back further, to Peter the Great, or Ivan the Terrible. Gentle, benign rulers. Russia is full of wonderful examples of people living in harmony. And you want to go back to those times, is that it?”
“No, I don’t.”
“Then what are you doing? It looks to me like your friends are attacking civilization itself. Is that what’s going on?”
She could see him struggle to keep quiet. Two days ago, he probably would have. Right now, he was thinking about those few moments of sleep.
“The problem is people. More specifically, modern people.”
“Modern people?” she asked. “The kind that have walked on the moon, invented penicillin, brought clean drinking water to most corners of the world?”
“The kind that are cutting down the Amazon and melting the ice caps.”
“Oh, don’t give me that crap,” Tess said. “You don’t like that, you work against global warming and join the Sierra Club, you don’t kill people.”
“You can have all the marches and protests you want,” Dmitri said, “it’s not going to matter so long as the population keeps growing and growing.”
“You mean, people having children, that’s the problem? You make it sound like a moral failure, like humanity is evil. Aren’t we just like other animals? They do the same thing.”
“Animals come to balance with their environment. Humans keep thinking of new ways to increase their take. We come against an obstacle and we find a way to get around it. No, to exploit it.”
“Yes, it’s one of the wonderful things about us,” Tess said. “We can overcome all those horrible things like germs and starvation and cold.”
“That would be great, if there were fifty million of us,” Dmitri said. “There are over six billion and we’re growing all the time. And I’m not just talking about population growth. Everyone on earth wants a car, a cell phone, a computer, an oversized house—make that two houses, because we need a house on the beach, right? Where does that leave the rest of the creatures on Earth?”
His exhaustion seemed to peel away in layers with every sentence. This was it, Tess thought. This was what had pushed him to this ruinous decision.
“The earth is not going to survive the 21st Century,” he said.
“Sure it will,” Tess said. “Humans aren’t going anyway.”
“Oh, there will be humans, but will there be anything else? Elephants, tigers, rain forests, clean streams, unpolluted lakes? We’ll have melted our glaciers, burned up every bit of fossil fuel and will be chopping down every tree to keep the lights on for a few more days.”
“We’ll find a way around our problems. Nuclear energy, maybe fusion, solar power.”
“Magic, you mean. These spectacular technological solutions to our problems. Are you going to put a nuclear reactor in every car? Face it, Tess, it’s unfixable.”
She stared at him for a moment. His energy level couldn’t last. Sure enough, moments after he finished his rant, he began to crash. He blinked and his head began to
droop. She took a dipper of water from the bucket and splashed it on him.
“Will you stop that?”
“Not yet. We’ve got a good start here. What I want now is some answers. What are your friends trying to do?”
“You’ll have to wait and find out.”
“They haven’t broken in, yet, even mounted a serious attack. So they must have given you up for dead.”
“I can hear the trebuchet through the walls,” Dmitri said.
“Not doing any damage,” she lied.
The outer curtain began to crack. There was a missing chunk in the gatehouse. Only the snow had kept buildings from burning, but it was melting now. Kirkov and Yekatarina were saving their pitch.
“Whatever, I’m not saying anything more.”
“Then I’ll leave you to it, for now, but one thing first. Your fantasy world, where we’ve stopped raping the earth and live in some utopia of group hugs, Kumbaya, and environmental stewardship, what’s it going to look like?”
“It will take a while to sort out, I’ll admit that.”
“But don’t you think the collapse of the Roman Empire might be a good model?” Tess asked. “Petty warlords, incessant conflict. Those average people who don’t starve will end up as slaves or cannon fodder. And what about women? What would happen to them?”
“That’s why you brought your friends, isn’t it?” Dmitri said. “This is about women.”
“That’s right. This probably doesn’t mean anything to you, but think about what the world was like for someone like us five hundred years ago. We’d be married off for political reasons. Daria would be a nun, if she was lucky. None of us would know how to read.
“If your friends do break in,” she continued, “watch what they do to us. That will give you a clue about the future. My guess is that those three of us you see here will suffer some abuse before we’re done away with. And if Kirkov succeeds in knocking down the castles that protect the modern world, there will be many more women who will thank you for all the rapes that they’ll endure.”
Dmitri lapsed into silence and she decided that was enough.
She kept him awake for another ten or fifteen minutes before Miko Talo came. The Finn had a bandage above his eye, but otherwise seemed to be thriving in the environment. He may have been an employee to one of the billionaires who’d come to play on the island, but as things had changed, some men showed themselves to be leaders and others followers. Talo was a leader.