There was much activity around the gun, but it did not fire again.
“I think they are finished for the day,” said Samuel. “I see that they are bringing up more guns, but it will be dark before they can get them in place.”
Don looked back and could see what appeared to be four more cannons moving up, but they were several miles away, and the sun was setting. “Do you think they will try a night attack?” he asked.
“It would be a wonderful idea,” answered Samuel. “We would have no good defense against that. They could just charge straight forward in the dark and could hardly miss these walls. But a night attack is so hard to control that most commanders would be afraid to attempt it.”
“But we have accomplished our objective, I think,” continued Samuel. “We should pull back the ballistae and catapults. They are slow to move, and I don’t want to risk their loss.”
Samuel ordered the horse troopers and crossbowmen to retire behind the walls except a screening force on the left flank. A camp kitchen had been set up and feed for the horses. The crews of the ballistae and catapults disappeared in the direction of Glenwood, thirteen miles away. The rest kept a guard on the walls and took turns sleeping throughout the long night.
Early the next day, the four cannons began firing from eight hundred yards away. After a dozen unproductive shots, they began to find the range and hit the walls. Where the balls hit, they did much damage. The stones were not well anchored and flew in all directions. One Ariel scout was killed, and several others wounded by flying rock splinters. At mid-morning the army began to form up, just as it had done the day before. The cannons continued to fire and breached the barricade that had been built across the great highway.
“Time to leave,” said Samuel. War horns began to sound, and the scouts, crossbowmen, and horse troopers mounted and withdrew towards Glenwood. The delaying action was over. The next main battle would be before the city walls. As they rode away, Don tried to think of a worthy strategy that they could use to harass or delay the enemy scouts or heavy cavalry, but nothing came to mind. There would be no repeat of the heedless charge. The enemy had learned to be wary.
They rode past Glenwood, which was nearly deserted. Its low walls were no real defense. The only people still there were the ruffians and sympathizers—as loyal to the Prophet as anyone else. They rode across Glenwood bridge, and Don thought of the General’s threat. It was an unpleasant reminder. Had the army been smaller, a defensive line at the river would make some sense, but Samuel had decided not to make the attempt.
Up ahead, they could hear bells ringing. “Church bells,” said Robert.
As they neared Ariel, they sent their forces on to Fort Baldy where the camp kitchen was set up, to eat and to water and feed their mounts. They planned to stay for a few hours, then retire to their new troop headquarters. Some scouts would remain for some time to cover their withdrawal. In the meantime, Samuel wanted a private word with Don and Robert alone. They left the main body, crossed the Roaring Fork, and rode up a recently-improved road to an elevated position within five hundred yards of Ariel’s north wall. Samuel dismounted, and the others followed suit.
Don could hear a melodious harmony coming from within the walls and realized that the city was singing hymns. “I wish I had such faith,” he said.
“When we defeat this army, and you see how God answers prayers, you will find your faith,” returned Samuel.
They looked across the valley at Bethuel, looking ready for battle, atop a prominent hill.
“I have decided to make my headquarters within Ariel,” said Samuel. “It was a hard decision. I would rather move the headquarters to your new camp. I dislike being imprisoned behind these walls.” He pointed toward Ariel, which also looked proud and strong, with its wooden shields in place on the battlements and proud banners flying.
“Abel did good work finding the spy in Glenwood,” commented Robert. “Obviously the enemy did not find out about the mannequins at New Castle.”
“Yes,” returned Samuel. “Though there is still a damned spy somewhere! He must be having trouble getting his messages out.”
They all fell silent for a few moments.
“This looks like a perfect place for a battery of cannon,” said Don. “Why did we go to the trouble to improve the road and level the ground? It is almost like we wanted them to put their guns here.”
“We do,” said Samuel. “I am going to tell you something that I was reluctant to do before. Don’t share this with anyone else! Beneath the ground are buried explosives, including one of the Steamboat shells. There is also a pipe buried underground with a long linen rope inside. When the rope is pulled, the explosives will go off, and we hope, blow the cannons to bits. There is another beautiful site like this near Bethuel.”
“Clever,” commented Robert. “Does the pipe go underground all the way to the city walls?”
“Unfortunately not,” answered Samuel. “It goes two hundred yards south to a brush-covered gully. Someone will have to creep up the gully and pull the rope. Look at the wall.”
Samuel pointed at the wall and they could see that atop one of the bastions was a large object covered in canvas. It was about the size of a cannon. “Under that canvas is a fake cannon,” he said. “We will blast a cloud of gunpowder smoke out of the muzzle, which is all we can blast out of it, since it is made out of wood. At the same time our person in the gully will pull the cord and blast this spot to high heaven.”
“Why go to that trouble—I mean what is the point of the fake cannon?” asked Don.
“We want them to think that we have cannons too,” answered Samuel. “Actually, we do have little cannons made of brass that fire a ball two thumb’s width in diameter. They can be a great annoyance out to four hundred yards, by the way. But we want them to think that we have big guns. We want them to fear risking their cannon, and if they can’t risk their cannon, then they can’t knock down our walls.”
“But couldn’t the trebuchet throw a stone five hundred yards?” asked Don.
“Some can, under absolutely ideal conditions, but the small ones that we can mount on the walls can’t reach this far,” answered Samuel. “And they know it. They will think themselves safe here. Though the ballistae can reach this point, they will erect shields to protect the gun crews. Yes. They will feel safe.”
“I was thinking,” said Don. “Perhaps we could use the mounted crossbowmen to delay the crossing of the river …”
Robert looked thoughtful. “It could be done, surely. But then we would have to cover their retreat.”
“No. No,” said Samuel. “It would merely be a gesture, and we don’t need more of those. Let them come on. We have plenty of surprises in store for them yet. You go and take up the mission of raiding their supply lines, and harassing their heavy cavalry—and the Raiders. This army will need supplies, and they all must come up the river, many long miles. You can make them sweat over every pound of wheat and side of bacon. And for God’s sake, don’t get captured. You have information vital to our towns’ defense.”
†
It was a hard thing to simply ride away and leave their friends and families behind to face the advancing army. Many of the troopers, no doubt, had lumps in their throats. But their mission lay downriver, in the long hundred miles from the enemy supply center in Junction to the walls of Bethuel and Ariel.
Robert called a meeting in the new headquarters of all mount leaders, leaders of scout teams, and troop commanders. Jenkins, who had been given command of the mounted crossbowmen, was there, as was Philip. Philip, in fact, had helped Robert prepare for the meeting. He had brought a case of maps from Samuel’s headquarters, and they were displayed on a mapboard at Robert’s elbow. Danny was there for the Diné, accompanied by Ben.
“We need to have a clear understanding of the task before us,” began Ro
bert. There was a poster with a series of numbers next to the map. He pointed with a willow wand. “We are at full strength. I have fifteen young men from the Ariel levy to guard the walls and to help with duties around our headquarters, as well as the ten that crew the catapult and ballista. This frees up all of you for field duty and we need every man.” He paused to look around the room.
“We now have four horse troops, each with fifty troopers and ten scouts. We have forty crossbow men organized into two companies. I have ordered Jenkins to be the overall commander of the crossbows. Now let me introduce Fred Jackson. He is in charge of supplies and this headquarters and will the third in the chain of command behind me and Donald. Fred …”
Fred stood. He was a barrel-chested man with a grizzled white beard, with no moustache. His hair was cropped short, and though only of average height, he looked like a solid lump of pure muscle. Don had noticed him at Samuel’s headquarters, and had been introduced. But he knew little about him, except that Samuel had known him for years.
“Hello,” he began. “I am honored to serve with you. I have spent too much time indoors. It will be good to be back in the field again.”
He paused and looked around the room. The weather-beaten faces had a wary look. Don sensed a bit of resentment that this stranger seemed to have been promoted over all of them, despite never having been in battle. Yet, Don wondered if that was really true. Surely he must have some kind of military experience!
“As Lord Robert said, I will be in charge of supplies, and I also will be the headquarters commander. I will be in charge of the men who shoe your horses, feed them while in camp, and shovel the dung. All who move, store and issue supplies answer to me. If your horse is wounded, I will supply the horse doctor. If you are wounded, I have two healers and a clinic. The chaplain will pray for you. When you are in camp, it is my cooks that will feed you. We will issue you your rations and supplies when you leave on patrol. There is a smith to mend weapons and a farrier to shoe horses. The heliograph operators are my responsibility. My military command includes the camp guards, those who man the ballista and catapult and the other team that was mentioned. Did you want me to explain?”
“Yes,” said Robert. “Go ahead. And you might introduce the commander.”
“Very well,” continued Fred. “The unit has twelve men that we call grenadiers. They will all be mounted and will have a couple of pack animals. Let me introduce Rob, who commands this little group. He has been for some time an armorer and assistant to David and Charles, the weapons masters that you saw in the field at New Castle.”
A stranger stood in the back of the room and came forward. He did not have much of a tan on his face, as though he had been working away from the light. He was thin, without an ounce of fat, and his face was animated. He seemed to be eager to please. He opened a heavy leather bag and laid four round balls on a table at the front of the room. “Hello,” he said. “I am honored to be here. I plan to share some military secrets here—not secrets about how these bombs are made, but how they are used.”
He picked up one leather-covered ball. It looked like something that children might use for a game, about six inches in diameter. “We owe a debt to the shoemakers of our fair towns,” he began. “They sewed the covers. Inside this ball is a charge of gunpowder and several hundred small leaden balls. It weighs about seven pounds.”
He tossed it into the air and caught it. Some of the men in the front row flinched. “Actually, this is a dummy, made to the same weight as the real thing. It has no powder,” he added. “This is what we call a thunderclap; it is designed to be thrown by the catapult. But as the enemy will soon learn, the fuse can be lit and the ball simply tossed off the top of the city wall. When it explodes, the small balls are thrown in every direction. They will pierce armor for forty or fifty feet and kill unarmored soldiers for a hundred fifty feet or more.”
Blackie raised his hand. “I saw these explode at least two hundred feet over the heads of the enemy and still they caused many casualties.”
“That is true,” answered Rob. “I heard the same thing. They performed better than our tests would indicate. There are a few larger lead balls in each bomb, half-inch in diameter. They kill at a much longer range. That is something to remember.”
He picked up a smaller ball, about four inches in diameter. “This is the grenade. It can be thrown by a sling or by hand. The damage is about half of the thunderclap. Still, it is a lethal weapon. It is not just a noise-maker, though it makes a great noise.”
Finally, he picked up a third ball. It was the largest of all but not by much. It was black and covered by wrappings of fiber. “This is the fireball,” said Rob. “This can be fired by catapult or dropped from a high wall, also. But it is lit before it is launched and is burning when it flies through the air. It not only has lead balls, but it blows fragments of hot burning tar in every direction. The hunks of tar will burn a deep hole in skin, and mail is no protection. The tar goes right through and sets the padding under the mail afire. The cheap leather armor of the infantry is actually better protection than mail. But it is a fearsome weapon, nevertheless. The enemy has not seen this weapon yet but they will see it soon.”
“Our grenadiers will carry grenades, and they can use them to ward off enemy horse or infantry. They can be thrown thirty or forty yards by hand and one hundred yards with the sling. You may be able to think of ways that this can be of help to you.”
“Very well,” said Robert. “Thank you. Very interesting. Now I want to give you the strategic problem and we can maybe figure out ways to solve it. Their supply line from Junction is one hundred miles. The enemy around our walls has twenty-five thousand men to feed and about a thousand horses. And that thousand horse does not count the Raiders or their heavy cavalry, which adds another thousand or more. There is hardly any fodder left around Ariel or Bethuel to feed their stock and certainly no food for the men. Then they will need to bring in everything else that they eat, drink, wear out or use up. Gunpowder and ball for the cannons comes to mind.”
“At first glance it may not sound like much of a problem to feed the army. One of their freight wagons can pull five tons of cargo, and five tons of wheat will feed many men.” Robert gestured to Philip. “Philip, here, is quick with numbers, and he has helped Abel develop estimates of the number of wagons per day that must come into the enemy camp. Any guesses?”
Spirited guesses quickly flew around the room. Guesses ranged from ten to five hundred. Robert shook his head, and Philip smiled. “Actually,” said Robert. “They need ten wagons a day for the hay—they have special hay wagons that carry about three tons each. They need another ten for food and the like. Add two for the gunpowder and cannon balls and such. That gives an estimate of twenty two wagons per day. They will have to drive in about seventy cows per day for meat. But that is only part of the story.”
He paused and looked around the room. “They can only move their freight about fifteen miles per day, unless they can switch teams for fresh horses. Going back empty, they can make twenty. That means if they send out twenty-two wagons per day, they will have one hundred thirty two wagons on the road to the siege every day, and an equal number returning or about two hundred sixty four wagons on their supply route at any one time. That means over a thousand draft horses to pull the wagons, and these estimates do not include feed for these teams, or for their cavalry horses.”
He looked each of the commanders in the eye. “The livestock, cavalry and draft horse feed will probably have to be stored all along the route, which means that they will probably have to set up five or six camps along the way where they can store hay for the horses and cows and food for the teamsters, guards and horse cavalry. That will take probably another ten wagons per day, and those teams and drivers will also require feed and food. You can figure out the grand totals yourselves, but it is a major effort. Our job will be to make it much
harder.”
Danny spoke up: “This a good time to report that we see camps being built on river road. We think maybe six of them, about seventeen or eighteen miles apart.”
The group sat silent for several long minutes. Don began wondering how they could deal with fortified camps. The enemy horse patrols would be spread thin. They might have to send several day’s food in a large caravan instead of a small caravan every day. The discussion that soon followed covered these points.
“What are the chances that this headquarters might be attacked?” asked Blackie. “Can we defend this place?”
“Not against a determined attack,” answered Robert. “We have evacuation plans, and we have several supply caches higher in the mountains in case of emergency.”
Questions tapered off and Robert concluded: “We have a lot to think about. I am open to ideas. We have a difficult strategic problem, but so do they. Let’s break and see how well our headquarters commander intends to feed us. Tomorrow we go on the offensive.”
Chapter 29
†
A Siege of Two Towns
Rescue me, Lord, from evil men. Keep me safe from violent men who plan evil in their hearts. They stir up wars all day long.
Psalm 140: 1–2 HCSB
It was nearly two weeks into the siege of the two towns. Don had been out on numerous patrols, one lasting four days. The mission today was less strenuous, which gave his horses a bit of a rest, to say nothing of him. He was with Philip on the heights overlooking the battle for the towns of Haven. He had a heliograph team and ten scouts with him, as well as Eric. Philip was observing through Don’s spare binoculars, and Don was also keeping watch. The view was spectacular and would have a kind of stark beauty, if he could ever forget that men were fighting and dying in agony.
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