Lord Conrad s Lady Leo Frankowski

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worked out with them a system where there wouldn t be much cheating. They also offered me their war-
horses on the same terms at a thousand pence a head, with the understanding that they could get them
back at any time by repaying the money should the battle prove to be protracted. I went along with that.
There was no point killing dumb animals, I d be getting the money back, and we could probably train
most of those chargers to pull railroad cars. From the Crossmen s point of view, the Church would be
taking care of their horses at my expense until they were needed, but let them have their dreams.
The time was dragging slowly, and the troops were getting antsy. Finally, I talked to my partner about it.
Henryk, I don t want to rush you, but it s been more than three weeks now. Do you realize that I am
paying the salaries of over fifty thousand men while many of them sit idle every day?
Yes, Conrad, and I well know how you hate waste. But this is not time wasted. Prince Swientopelk is
starting to come around. The Baltic seacoast could be ours! What would you think of having not one but
two seaports, one at the mouth of the Vistula and one at the Odra?
It would be fine, and I ve often dreamed of building oceangoing steamships. We could buy and sell
abroad, explore the world, and spread the faith. We could even find coffee and rubber! But we could not
start doing it for years yet. We have commitments that will take us years to fulfill. We are too
overextended now to even consider further expansion at this time. You know that.
But the iron is hot now, Conrad, and it might grow cold in five years. We need not promise to do much
until then. Just some little show of support might be enough. Your reputation alone could do it. Have I
ever told you that putting those Mongol heads up on pikes was a stroke of genius?
Not in so many words, and thank you. But what can I tell my men? When can we start the battle?
A week, Conrad. Can you give me another week?
A week. Very well, I ll hold them back until then. But a week from this morning I m opening fire!
Chapter Thirty-two
The next week was simultaneously hectic and boring. A few dozen people tried to put their mark on
history by playing the peacemaker. They ran back and forth between me and the Crossmen and Henryk,
carrying absurd peace offers. None of us took these fools seriously, but none of us wished to appear to be
unreasonable warmongers, either. My best offer to them was that if the Crossmen would go back to the
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Lord Conrad's Lady
Holy Land, where they d started from, and never come back, I d call the whole thing off, let them march
out with their weapons and treasure, and let them all live, besides. Their best offer to me was less polite.
Bishop Ignacy did a good job getting the noncombatants out of Turon. There were over 500 of them,
servants, stable boys, and prostitutes, mostly. He also got us 1,900 horses, all of them in very good shape.
It turned out that the Crossmen had sent most of their chargers away before we got there and had kept
only the best, because of a lack of hay to feed all of them during a protracted siege. There were a
remarkable number of dogs, cats, and caged birds that I paid for, but I drew the line at pet rats and
mice. They figured that it had been worth a try.
At just before noon on the scheduled day we opened up on them with our swivel guns, shooting just
enough to teach them to keep under cover. Half our guns were available for targets of opportunity, but
each one of the other half had its own assigned target: a window, a doorway, a space between two
merlons on the wall. They were bore-sighted and packed between sandbags, and in the course of the day,
by trial and error, they got their targets down pat. This was to teach the Crossmen the art of not being
seen. All through the next night the sandbagged guns fired occasionally at random, teaching the same
lesson at night: Stay down! The few slit windows in the outer walls were soon plugged up tight with
timbers by the defenders, nicely sealing the entire structure, which was the purpose of the exercise. This
stopped the bullets, because this year we were firing cartridges with far less gunpowder than last year s.
Six inches of pine could stop our rounds cold. I didn t want to put holes in anything. Quite the opposite.
The random firing continued the next day, except when the gunners actually had a target, an increasingly
rare event. Around noon we took a few trial shots with the mortars, using dummy rounds loaded with
sand. They did very little damage, but they let us know that our aim was good enough. Small-arms fire
continued into the second night, and I was sure that by then the garrison was very low on sleep. An hour
before midnight the small-arms fire slackened off.
It was a sultry night and almost completely calm. It would work tonight if it was going to work at all. I
had the smallarms fire stop completely and allowed the Crossmen a quarter hour to get to sleep.
Then we opened up with the mortars, firing as fast as their crews could load them, one round a minute
each. This continued for only twelve minutes and then stopped. They were out of ammunition, which
relieved me. Having that stuff sit around for weeks in the sun and in public made me nervous.
The mortar rounds were a yard in diameter and two yards high. They were made of a thin iron shell with
a blown-in glass lining. When the shell struck, the glass broke and the pressurized liquid chlorine inside
was released. If the lining broke in the course of being fired, it didn t matter, for the metal shell kept it
together long enough to-get the poison into the sleeping city.
The delegates were encouraged to watch the shelling, and when it was over, I told them that I thought
that we had just won the battle. When they asked me how that was possible, I told them that wars were
ugly things and it was best to get them over as soon as possible. Then I suggested that they all go to
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Lord Conrad's Lady
sleep. Nothing else should happen until morning.
The army troops couldn t sleep, however. At first they stood to their guns with slow flares lit in front of
them in case the Crossmen came pouring out of the city. Then they were all standing on top of their war
carts in case something far more deadly than enemy troops came pouring out. More of the deadly gas
might have leaked out than I had calculated. Chlorine is heavy stuff, almost three times heavier than air. I
figured that it should fill the city up to the top of the walls, like soup in a bowl, and hug the ground until
it was absorbed by the dew.
The warriors heard a few shouts and screams from the Crossmen, but soon the city was quiet. They had a
boring night, but I hadn t told them to come.
I was still across the river, safe from the chlorine. I went back to my big railroad car to sleep. At the
doorway of my car a foreign knight waited, standing in the yellow torchlight.
He was dressed in old-fashioned chain mail, though it looked to be washed with gold. There was quite a
bit of solid gold on his outfit as well. And there was something very familiar about the man.
What can I do for you? I asked. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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