In the Heart of Darkness b-2

by Eric Flint

  "Is that-?"

  "Yes!" shouted John. "Belisarius! In the proverbial nick of time!"

  Still grinning, the naval officer examined the war galley in a new light. His grin widened. John's eyes danced back and forth between the galley, his own ship, and the fleet of enemy transports.

  By the time the dromon pulled alongside, his grin was almost blinding.

  "Oh, those sorry bastards are fucked," he said cheerfully. "Fucked."

  A minute later, John and his crewmen were helping Belisarius aboard the pamphylos.

  After giving John a brief but powerful embrace, Belisarius immediately climbed up to the wood-castle. Quickly, he examined the bombs resting in open crates next to the artillery engines. The bombs were carefully nestled in wads of thick wool.

  "Firebombs?" he asked. "Or gunpowder?"

  The general nodded toward Ashot, who was still standing in the bow of the dromon.

  "Ashot told me you discovered the secret of gunpowder already," he said approvingly.

  John nodded.

  "Yes-although I'm sure you'll have suggestions for improving the powder's quality. But these aren't gunpowder. For a naval battle, I thought firebombs would be better. They're my own special formula. I added saltpeter to the naphtha. Beautiful stuff! Beautiful! But you have to be very careful with it."

  The movement of Belisarius' eyes now imitated that of John's, not two minutes earlier. Scorpions-galley-enemy fleet; scorpions-galley-enemy fleet.

  "You've got a battle plan," he stated.

  "Yes," affirmed John. "I'd only hoped to be able to destroy enough of those ships to give Sittas and Hermogenes a fighting chance after they landed. But now-with your galley-we can do better. Much better."

  "Give me the entire situation," commanded Belisarius.

  John blew out his cheeks.

  "The heart of the traitors' conspiracy is at the Hippodrome. The Malwa bribed both the Blues and Greens-can you imagine how much money that must have taken? — and are relying on them for the real dirty work." He glanced up at the sun, which had just cleared the horizon. "In three or four hours-by noon, at the latest-they'll be assembled in the Hippodrome. Twenty, maybe thirty thousand of those street toughs. Irene also discovered that they've smuggled in several hundred Malwa soldiers. With gunpowder weapons. Rockets and grenades, we think."

  Belisarius nodded. "Most likely. They'll be kshatriya. I doubt they were able to smuggle in any of their cannons, though."

  The general glanced at the enemy fleet. All of the transports had now cleared the harbor at Chalcedon and were well into the Bosporus.

  "So," he mused. "They'll use the kshatriya as a spearhead, with a huge mob of faction thugs to provide the mass of their fighters. What else? Where do the military units in Constantinople stand?"

  John shrugged.

  "All of them are standing aside. Stinking cowards are hiding in their barracks."

  He nodded toward the fleet of transports.

  "That's the Army of Bithynia. General Aegidius is part of the conspiracy. He's got eight thousand men on those transports, including a thousand cataphracts and their horses. According to Irene, his main function is to neutralize any military units that might come to the Emperor's aid."

  John's head turned to the west, studying the shoreline of Constantinople.

  "Which amounts to Sittas and Hermogenes, and the small army they were able to bring here from Syria. Five hundred cataphracts and two thousand infantrymen. They've been hidden away in ships at Portus Caesarii since they arrived. But they should have marched out this morning. By now-I hope-they've taken up positions guarding the Harbor of Hormisdas. That's the landing site nearest to the Hippodrome and the Great Palace. It's where the Army of Bithynia is planning to disembark, according to Irene's spies."

  Belisarius nodded.

  "Which means, I assume, that the only forces we have immediately available to suppress the kshatriya and the mob in the Hippodrome are my three hundred cataphracts and Antonina's cohort of grenadiers."

  "It's worse than that, Belisarius. John of Cappadocia has assembled almost a thousand bucellarii of his own. I'm sure he'll use them against the excubitores guarding Justinian at the Great Palace."

  Belisarius scowled fiercely. "For the sake of God! Why didn't Justinian disband them?"

  John winced. He understood Belisarius' astonished outrage. Under Roman law, private armies-bucellarii-were illegal for anyone to maintain except serving generals like Belisarius and Sittas. That law had been enacted over fifty years earlier, by Emperor Leo, precisely in order to prevent public officials and landowners from becoming too powerful.

  "Justinian gave John of Cappadocia an exemption," he explained. Then, with a harsh laugh: "Not even that! He made the Cappadocian a general. Just a few months after you left for India."

  Belisarius rolled his eyes in disgust. "That stinking chiseler's never been in a battle in his life," he snarled. Suddenly, the snarl turned into a crooked smile. "Which, now that I think about it, isn't such a bad thing."

  The general rubbed his chin, eyeing the transports.

  "Have you got a count?" he asked John.

  The naval officer nodded. "There are thirty-one ships in Aegidius' fleet. Most of them-the bigger ones-are corbita."

  Seeing the blank look in Belisarius' face, John elaborated.

  "We seamen call them `basket ships.' Corbita are freight haulers, general. They operate by sails alone, without rowers. They're slow under the best of circumstances, and they'll be even slower here in the Bosporus fighting against the northerly winds. But-they've got a big capacity. Each one can carry up to four hundred passengers, although I doubt they're holding more than three hundred apiece. They've got to haul the arms and equipment, also."

  "And the cataphracts' horses," added Belisarius.

  "That, too. But I'm pretty sure that the cataphracts themselves are being transported in the smaller ships. Aegidius has eight merchant galleys-akatoi-in that fleet. Just about right for a thousand cataphracts. Although-which is good for us-they're having to use their sails alone. They'll have no room for rowers on top of the cataphracts."

  Belisarius stared at the fleet. John fell silent, realizing that the general was coming to a decision.

  "Right," murmured Belisarius. He cocked an eye at the Rhodesman. "The immediate priority is to stop the Army of Bithynia from reaching Constantinople. You're the naval officer, John. How would you do it-now that you have my galley as well as this ship?"

  John frowned.

  "You've got good rowers. But how fresh are they?"

  Belisarius shrugged. "Fresh enough, I should think. We came most of the way from Egypt on a sailing ship. Ashot had the galley waiting for us in Abydos, and we crossed the Sea of Marmara using our sails. We only unshipped the oars a few minutes ago."

  "Good. We can wreak havoc among those plodding corbita with a dromon. The real problem's the akatoi. Those merchants galleys are fast. And they're full of cataphracts." He grimaced. "I wouldn't want to face that kind of archery, even in an armored galley. Not when you have to get close enough to ram."

  "You won't have to," said Belisarius. "I'll take the akatoi with this ship, using the scorpions. You take the dromon and do as much damage as you can against the corbita."

  Seeing John's hesitation, Belisarius pressed on.

  "There's no other way, John. I'm not a naval officer-you are. I wouldn't know what to do with a dromon. Whereas here-"

  He waved at the scorpions.

  "I do know how to use artillery. Quite well."

  Belisarius almost laughed, seeing the look of near anguish on the Rhodesman's face. John, he knew, wanted to finally try out his wonderful new artillery weapons.

  John blew out his cheeks.

  "You're right, damn it."

  He eyed Belisarius skeptically.

  "I assume you don't know how to sail a ship, either?"

  Belisarius answered with a smile.

  The naval officer grunted. He gesture
d toward one of the sailors standing at the stern. The man trotted forward along the gangway.

  "His name's Honorius. Let him command the ship. Just tell him what you want. You can concentrate on the scorpions."

  He turned to his assistant.

  "Eusebius! Show the general how to handle the firebombs. He's going to command the artillery on this ship. I'm taking the dromon."

  John eyed Belisarius' cataphracts. By now, all of them had boarded the pamphylos.

  Seeing the avarice in John's eyes, Belisarius chuckled.

  "Leave me Valentinian," he said. "I'll want him to aim the other scorpion. You can take the rest."

  Less than a minute later, the dromon was pulling away from the ship and heading straight toward the enemy fleet. John was standing in the stern, giving orders to the steersman.

  Belisarius did not watch for more than a few seconds. He had his own problem to face.

  How best to use his little artillery ship against over two dozen opponents?

  A thought came from Aide:

  Cross the T.

  Explain, commanded the general.

  A series of images came to his mind. Scenes of naval battle, featuring ships pounding at each other with cannons. In each instance, the fleets attempted to sail their own ships directly across the coming line of the enemy, in order to bring their broadsides to bear on as many opponents as possible.

  Belisarius scratched his chin, pondering. The scenes which Aide had shown him were not entirely relevant to his situation. His ship was armed with only two scorpions, located amidships, not a line of cannons running down the entire sides of the ship. "Broadsides," thus, were impossible.

  Still-

  The sailor whom John had named as his substitute was now standing next to Belisarius, waiting for orders. The general turned to Honorius, and began gesturing to illustrate his question.

  "Can you row this ship at a right angle across the front of that approaching fleet?"

  Honorius squinted at the enemy ships. Aegidius' armada was now well into the Bosporus, about a mile distant.

  "Easily. They're letting the basket ships set the pace instead of the akatoi. Those corbita are slow to begin with. And if they're packed with cataphracts-and all their armor-they'll be a lot more sluggish than usual."

  He leaned over the wall of the fighting platform and began shouting orders to his crew. The ship began taking a new heading, but Belisarius did not bother to watch. His concentration was focussed on the scorpions.

  John, he saw, had chosen his weapons well. The scorpions were that type of stone-throwing catapult which were called palintonos. The name was derived from the "fold-back spring" design which allowed the two torsion arms to swing forward further than was possible in the more traditional "straight-spring" euthytonos. The weapons were mounted on the same type of tripod base which Roman engineers used for cranes and hoists. The scorpions were then fitted onto a swivel attachment atop the tripod. The end result was a weapon which could be tilted up or down as well as swung sideways in a complete circle.

  Romans did not manufacture their artillery engines to the same degree of standardization as would be common in future eras. But, from long experience, Belisarius recognized that the two scorpions were both in what was considered the "11-pound" class-that being the weight of stone shot each was capable of hurling. Using that weight of shot, they had an effective range of well over 400 yards.

  "How heavy are your firebombs?" he asked Eusebius.

  "A little over eight pounds. Not more than nine."

  Belisarius nodded.

  "We should have a range of almost five hundred yards, then."

  Again, he examined the scorpions. The weapons were placed on either side of the wood-castle, far enough apart to allow the engines to be swiveled without the six-foot-long firing troughs impeding each other. Unfortunately, of course, there was no way that both of them could be used simultaneously to fire over the same side. As they-to use Aide's expression-"crossed the T," one of the scorpions would be out of action completely.

  For an idle moment, Belisarius pondered alternate ways of emplacing artillery on a ship. Almost immediately, another image came from Aide.

  A steel ship, very sleek for all its gargantuan size, plowing through the sea. Cannons-three of them abreast-were mounted in a strange sort of enclosed swivel-

  Turret.

  — directly amidship. Two enclosed swivels-

  Turrets.

  — were mounted toward the bow, one toward the stern. Those cannons could be brought to bear in any direction. All nine could be employed in broadsides, to starboard or port. Six could also fire across the bow, and three across the stern.

  "Oh, well," muttered Belisarius. "We'll have to make do with what we've got."

  The enemy fleet was now almost within catapult range. The nearest ships were off their starboard bow at a thirty-degree angle. Examining the situation, and doing his best to estimate relative speeds, Belisarius decided that they would be able to use both scorpions for at least three minutes before the port scorpion could no longer be brought to bear.

  "I'll handle the starboard scorpion," he announced. "Valentinian, you're in charge of the other one. Eusebius, you keep us supplied with firebombs."

  He started to give orders to the twelve other soldiers standing on the platform, but saw there was no need. All of them, experienced artillerymen, had already taken their positions. Each scorpion had a six-man crew, not counting the aimer. Two men stood on either side of each scorpion, ready to turn the windlasses which cranked back the torsion springs. That work was exhausting-especially when done at the breakneck speed required in battle-so each man had a relief standing right behind him. The two men would alternate between shots. A loader fit the bomb into the trough while the sixth man engaged the claw which held the bowstring until the aimer pulled the trigger. Those last two men also had the job of helping the aimer move the heavy trough around and seeing to it that the strut which supported the end was properly adjusted for the desired range.

  Everyone hurried to their tasks. Within a minute, the scorpions were ready to fire. Belisarius announced that he would fire first. With the help of his crew, he lined up the heavy trough so that the scorpion was bearing on the nearest of the enemy ships. As soon as he saw the target bracketed between the two "ears" which served as a rough aiming device, he yanked on the little lever which served as the weapon's trigger.

  The scorpion bucked from the recoil. Not sixty yards away, the firebomb slammed into the sea with enough force to rupture the clay container. A ball of flame splattered across the waves.

  "We're at sea," muttered Belisarius. Somewhat lamely, he added: "I forgot."

  In land warfare, he had never had to worry about the heaving of a ship's deck. He had fired the catapult just at the moment when the ship's bow dipped into a trough.

  Valentinian fired five seconds later. The cataphract had learned from his general's mistake. He timed his own trigger-pull to correspond with the bow lifting to a wavecrest.

  His firebomb lofted its majestic way toward the heavens. Quite some time later, almost sedately, it plopped into the sea. There was no eruption into flame, this time. The firebomb plunged into the water at such a steep angle that, even if the clay container ruptured, the naphtha/saltpeter contents were immediately immersed in water.

  Harmlessly, in other words. Not least of all because the firebomb landed two hundred yards away from the nearest enemy vessel.

  They were still four hundred yards from their foe. Just near enough to hear the faint sounds of catcalls and jibes.

  "Again," growled Belisarius. Gingerly, the loader placed a firebomb in the trough. The other artillerymen ratcheted back the torsion springs and engaged the claw. Belisarius sighted-compensated for the roll, guessed at the pitch-yanked the trigger.

  He did, this time, manage a respectable trajectory. Quite respectable. Not too high, not too low.

  And not, unfortunately, anywhere in the vicinity of an e
nemy ship. Another harmless plop into the sea.

  The catcalls and jibes grew louder.

  Valentinian fired.

  Extravagant failure; utter humiliation. His second firebomb landed farther from the enemy armada than had his first.

  The catcalls and jibes were now like the permanent rumbling of a waterfall.

  Belisarius glared at Honorius.

  "For the sake of God! This damned ship's-"

  He gestured angrily with his hands.

  "Pitching, yawing and rolling," filled in Honorius. The sailor shrugged. "I can't help it, general. On this heading-which you ordered-we're catching the worst combination of the wave action."

  Belisarius restrained his angry glare. More accurately, he transferred it from the seaman to the enemy, who were still taunting him.

  He pointed at the fleet.

  "Is there any way to get at them without having this miserable damned ship hopping around like a flea?" he demanded.

  Honorius gauged the wind and the sea.

  "If we head straight for them," he announced. "We'll be running with the waves instead of across them. Shouldn't be-"

  "Do it!" commanded Belisarius.

  Honorius sprang to obey.

  Aide protested.

  Cross the T! Cross the T!

  Shut up! If you think this is so easy, you-you-damned little fat diamond! — you crawl out of that pouch and do it yourself.

  Aide said nothing. But the facets were quivering with some very human sentiments.

  Sulk. Pout .

  Then:

  You'll be sorry.

  By the time the scorpions were re-armed, Honorius had altered the vessel's course. They were now rowing directly toward the enemy. And, just as the sailor had predicted, the ship was much steadier.

  Much steadier.

  Belisarius and Valentinian fired almost simultaneously. A few seconds later, the taunts and catcalls were suddenly replaced by cries of alarm and screams of pain.

  The two nearest akatoi erupted in flames. The rounded bow of the one Belisarius fired upon was burning fiercely. Valentinian's shot caused even greater havoc on his target. His firebomb must have ruptured against the rail of that ship's bow. Instead of engulfing the bow in flames, the naphtha had spewed across the ship's deck like a horizontal waterfall of flame and destruction.