by John Migacz
CHAPTER 60
Balthus stood with Dieya on the west or “blue” wall’s parapet, inspecting the artillery on the gate towers. The right-hand tower held a catapult, the left, a ballista, each mounted on a pivoting base. The gate towers on the other three walls held the same weapons.
“Where has Adrianna gotten off to this morning?” asked Dieya. “I haven’t seen much of her lately.”
“She’s working on something. She seems to have made friends with the local town’s women and the Arvari hotara.”
“What is she planning?”
Balthus shrugged. “She didn’t say, and I won’t ask. She likes to hone an idea until it is presentable.”
“Quite a resourceful woman,” said Dieya.
Balthus grinned. “Aye, there’s none better. I am a lucky man.”
“You certainly seem to be, and that’s very welcome. We’re going to need all the luck we can get.”
Dieya pointed to a cloud of dust to the west. “Here comes Rory with the infantry a day early.”
“Yes, he has made good time with the archers and foot,” said Balthus. “Rory must be pushing them hard.”
Dieya nodded. “Listen!” he said and cupped an ear toward the ribbon of moving men.
Balthus strained but heard nothing for a few moments. Then he heard it. “They are singing!”
“Yes,” said Dieya with a huge grin. “This lowly Strikedag of the Human Alliance Space Marines is a very valuable asset.”
“No doubt. Rory is one of those who say little, but do much,” replied Balthus.
When the infantry reached the wall, Rory stood next to the gate speaking to each group as they passed, sometimes praising, sometimes joking. Balthus was amazed. Archers and infantry were usually the dregs of any army, but Rory’s people moved with confidence and pride.
When the last trooper marched through the gates, Rory bounded up the stairs and joined Balthus and Dieya on the tower. Balthus greeted him with extended hand. “Rory. Well met,” said Balthus. He clasped Rory’s wrist and slapped him on the back. “How did you arrive so quickly?”
Rory nodded to Dieya and grinned at Balthus. “Remember when you said the best way to make time on a luse is by varying the pace? Well, it works for men as well. We walked, trotted, jogged and ran.”
“A marvelous achievement,” said Dieya.
Rory looked down the street at the disappearing infantry. “They’re turning into a good group. If I had two months with them I could really show you something.” Rory stopped and wrinkled his nose. “What is that smell?”
One of the catapult loaders overheard and pointed to three wagons moving toward the gate. “It’s the waste wagons.”
“Waste wagons?” asked Balthus.
“Yes, Sir,” the loader replied. “There is not enough water in Glendell to have any kind of sewer system, so the waste is collected and dumped out at brown flats, about two miles north.”
“First the sulfur, now this,” said Rory. He shook his head.
Balthus and Dieya exchanged an alarmed look. Each had arrived at the same conclusion, but Balthus spoke first. “What if it’s a long siege?”
“I should have thought of this.” Dieya grimaced. “I have to see how much waste we produce in a week and where we might be able to store it. I must see the Baron.” He quickly left the tower, black cape flowing behind him as he ran down the street.
Balthus shook his head in exasperation. “I thought of many things that might cause problems, but never this.”
“Yes, unsanitary conditions could cause more deaths than arrows if left unchecked,” said Rory. He smiled and patted the catapult. “Well, if things get too bad, we could always load up the catapults and fling it at the Sevoal. It might not hurt them but it certainly would smell.” His face took on a far away look as he stared down at the waste wagons. “Smells…” he mumbled.
“Rory, are you all right?”
Rory looked at Balthus and grinned. “Yes. I had an idea that’s all.”
“Well, tossing waste at the enemy is nothing new. But I hope it doesn’t come down to that. A long siege will not bode well. I hope to break their spirit on these walls the first few days and send them back to their tents, tails between their legs.”
Rory nodded absently, absorbed in thought.
Hurried activity filled the next several days as Balthus tried to shore up weak points in the town’s defenses. Cutting back the forest from the southern wall was first on his list, and his first problem with Baron Genardt.
“Sir Balthus,” said the Baron, “you can’t mean to cut the forest!”
“Yes, Baron. It gives the Sevoal good cover and it’s just a short run to the wall from there.” The Baron blustered for a while before admitting that this was his private hunting reserve and he was loath to give it up. Balthus explained gently that if the Sevoal overran the city, the only hunt going on would be the one for his head. That sharpened the Baron’s awareness of the situation and he acquiesced. Balthus stared at the Baron’s retreating back as Adrianna touched him on the arm.
“You handled that very well,” she said. “You could become an ambassador some day.”
Balthus turned toward her, frustration framing his face. “Not really. I almost told that fat bastard that a longer ride to the woods might just shake off some of his lard.” He rubbed his face with his hand, then grinned. “Ah well, it’s all in a day’s work as ‘All Powerful Overlord.’” They shared a laugh as a guard approached Balthus.
“Sir, there are several wagons at the west gate. The lead wagon holds pottery the driver says you ordered. He says that you owe him a gold piece for a rush delivery.”
“Ahhh, my pots have arrived. Wonderful!”
“We’re going into the pottery business then?” asked Adrianna.
“Sort of. Come, you can help me store them and then we will try one out.” Without another word he turned and followed the guard. Adrianna hurried to catch up.
Balthus and Adrianna stood next to the catapult on the eastern, or “green” wall. Balthus filled one of his special pots with water. The clay vessel resembled a giant stew pot. It was two feet in diameter and a foot deep with a handle on each side. The lid that screwed on with a half turn had an inch hole drilled into the center. When Balthus finished filling the pot with water, he screwed the lid on tight and jammed a dirty rag into the hole.
Balthus surveyed the catapult crew. “Ready?” The crew nodded and Balthus lifted his pot onto the catapult cradle and stepped back. Balthus pointed to the furthest of Rory’s colored aiming stakes.
“Let’s see how close you can get to the blue stake. See if you can drop the pot square on top of it.” The catapult captain nodded and ordered the winding team to turn the windlass six turns. When they finished, he looked out over the catapult’s arm one more time, then stepped on the release. The arm snapped up, tossing the pot high into the air. It landed several dozen yards past the blue stake and smashed with a big splash. Balthus thrust a fist in the air and grinned at Adrianna.
“Beggin’ your pardon, Sir,” said the captain. “It seems to be a bit lighter than a stone. If we could borrow one more of those pots we could get some stones the same weight. Then all the towers could practice without using up any more of your pots.” The captain rubbed his chin. “You’re planning to drop something stronger than water on them I hope.”
Balthus nodded. “Yes. I told the Baron I would piss on his enemies, but I don’t think my stream will reach all the way to the blue stakes – hence the pots.” He glanced over and saw Dieya on the parapet watching them, then turned back to the captain. “I’ll get you another.” He gave Adrianna an excited hug and they joined Dieya.
“What are you two planning?” Dieya asked.
“Just taking care of your sanitation problem,” said Balthus. “I figure we will hurl chamber pots at the Sevoal. That should discourage them. Have you wo
rked out the waste solution, by the way?”
“Sort of,” answered Dieya. “The current system has collection wagons pick up the waste and take it to underground cisterns. The liquid waste drains off into another cistern and when the solid has dried out some, they move it by wagon to a leech field several miles away.”
“Now there’s a job to avoid,” said Adrianna.
Dieya smiled. “That job is filled by felons. It is used as a form of punishment here.”
“Effective, too, I’ll bet. Speak of the devil.”
They looked down as waste wagons approached the gate.
“Yes,” said Dieya. “I have asked the Baron to empty the cisterns in case of a prolonged siege. We should be all right for a month or so.”
“And it has an inverse effect,” said Balthus. “The shorter food becomes, the slower the cisterns will be filled.”
“If that fails, then we can try your chamber pot method,” Dieya said as he gestured to the catapult. “Seriously, what are the pots for?”
Balthus pursed his lips and looked around, clearly uncomfortable. “It’s a surprise – can I let it go at that?”
Dieya nodded and glanced over Balthus’ shoulder. “Speaking of surprises, is that Rory?” Rory, holding a shovel, sat next to the driver of the lead waste wagon.
“Rory,” Balthus yelled down to him. “I can understand you pitching in, but damn man, enough is enough!” Rory just waved his shovel and didn’t say a word.
“It seems all of you are full of surprises,” said Dieya. “Bo had a team clearing back the woods and came up with a good way to reinforce the gates.”
Balthus and Adrianna gave him their full attention. This was a problem they hadn’t solved yet.
“We are going to erect two thick logs on the inside and to the sides of each gate.” Dieya demonstrated with his hands. “They will be buried about ten feet deep and two feet back from the gate. We will have long tree trunks moved into position next to the gates. When we seal the town, we will lower the tree trunks between the gates and the upright logs. If they hack down the gates, they will find cutting through a wall of logs a bit tougher. Bo already has his men trimming the trees we will use.”
Balthus grinned at Adrianna. “Great idea. We may get out of this alive after all.”