lord. Gioberti said, and explained that without the loam to seal the barrel much of the powder's explosive force would waste itself as it vented past the missile. Without the loam. he said, it just spits the bolt out. No force at all.“ You will let me fire the fuse?” Joscelyn asked, as eager as a small child with a new toy.
So you should, my lord. Gioberti said, but not yet. The loam must set hard.
That took almost three hours, but then, as the sun sank behind the town and lit the eastern face of the castle, Gioberti declared everything was ready. The barrels of powder were safely stored in a nearby house where no trace of fire could reach them, the gunners had taken shelter in case the breech burst, and the thatch in front of the gun on either side of the street had been wetted down by men with buckets. The cannon had been wedged upwards so that it was pointing at the top of the castle's entrance arch, but the bolt, the Italian said, should fall slightly as it flew and thus strike the very centre of the gate. He ordered one of his men to bring a lighted brand from the hearth of the Bear and Butcher tavern and when he had been given the fire and he was sure all had been done that should be done, he bowed to Joscelyn and held out the burning wood. A priest said a prayer of blessing, then scuttled into the alley beside the tavern. Just touch the fire to the fuse, my lord,“ Gioberti said, then you and I can go to the gate rampart and watch.”
Joscelyn looked at the thick black arrow head protruding from the barrel to fill the gun's flared mouth, then at the fuse beneath, and he touched the fire to the linen sleeve and the powder inside began to fizz. Back, lord, if you please,“ Gioberti said. A little trail of smoke was coming from the linen sleeve, which shrivelled and turned black as it shrank towards the throat. Joscelyn wanted to watch the fire vanish into the gun's neck, but Signor Gioberti dared to pull his lordship's sleeve in his urgency and Joscelyn meekly followed the Italian up to the gate rampart from where he stared at the castle. Up on the keep the Earl of Northampton's flag stirred in the small wind, but not for much longer, Joscelyn thought. Then the world shook. The noise was such that Joscelyn thought he stood in the heart of thunder, a thunder that gave a palpable blow to his eardrums so sudden and strong he involuntarily jumped, and then the whole street ahead of him, all the space between the walls and the dampened thatch, filled with smoke in which bright shards of charcoal and shattered scraps of loam, all trailing fire like comets, arched and fell. The town's gateway shuddered, and the noise of the explosion echoed back from the castle to drown the screech of Hell Spitter's ponderous frame recoiling on its greased runners. Dogs began howling in the shuttered houses and a thousand startled birds took to the sky. Sweet God!” Joscelyn said, amazed, his ears ringing from the thunder that still rolled about the valley. Dear Christ!“ The grey-white smoke drifted away from the street and with it came a stench so hideous, so rotten, that Joscelyn almost gagged. Then, through the foul-smelling smoke's remnants, he could see that one leaf of the castle's gates was hanging askew. Do it again. he ordered, his voice sounding muffled to himself because his ears were full of echoes. Tomorrow, lord. Gioberti said. It takes time to set the loam. We'll load tonight and shoot at daybreak.”
Next morning the gun fired three shots, all of them solid bars of rusted iron that succeeded in tearing the castle's gates off their hinges. It began to rain and the drops hissed and steamed when they hit Hell Spitter's metal. The townsfolk cowered in their houses, flinching every time the massive noise of the gun shook their window shutters and made their kitchen pots rattle. The castle's defenders had vanished from the battlements and that emboldened the crossbowmen who moved even closer.
The gate was gone, though Joscelyn could still not see into the castle's courtyard for that lay higher than the gun, but he assumed the garrison would know that an assault must come through the gate and doubtless they were preparing defences. The trick of it. he declared at midday, is not to give them time.
They've had time. Sir Henri Courtois pointed out. They've had all morning.
Joscelyn ignored Sir Henri who he thought was nothing but a timid old man who had lost his appetite for battle. We attack this evening. Joscelyn decreed. signor Gioberti will fire an iron into the courtyard and we shall follow while the noise still cows them.“ He picked forty men-at-arms, the best he had, and he ordered them to be ready at sunset and, to ensure that the defenders had no warning of his attack, he had men hack holes in the house walls so that the attackers could approach the castle through the town's buildings. By going through the walls, sneaking from house to house, the attackers could get within thirty paces of the gate without being seen and, as soon as the gun fired, they were to erupt from their hiding place and charge the castle's archway. Sir Henri Courtois offered to lead the attack, but Joscelyn refused. It needs young men. he said, men without fear.” He glanced at Robbie. Will you come?'
Of course, my lord.'
We'll send a dozen crossbowmen first. Joscelyn decreed. They can shoot a volley into the courtyard and then get out of our way. They would also, he hoped, draw the arrows of any English archers who might be waiting.
Sir Henri drew a diagram on a kitchen table with a scrap of charcoal to show Joscelyn what lay inside the courtyard. The stables, he said, were to the right and should be avoided for they led nowhere. Facing you, lord,“ he said, are two doorways. The one on the left leads down to the dungeons and, once down there, there is no other way out. The one on the right is at the top of a dozen steps and that leads to the halls and battlements.” So that's the one we want?'
Indeed, lord.' Sir Henri hesitated. He wanted to warn Joscelyn that Sir Guillaume was an experienced soldier, that he would be ready. The siege proper had only just begun, the gun had been working for less than a day, and that was when a garrison was at its most alert. Sir Guillaume would be waiting, but Sir Henri knew that any caution would only incur Joscelyn's dismissive scorn and so he said nothing.
Joscelyn ordered his squire to prepare his armour, then gave Sir Henri a careless glance. When the castle is taken,“ he said, you will be castellan again.”
Whatever your lordship orders,' Sir Henri said, taking the insult of his demotion calmly.
The attackers gathered in Saint Gallic's church where a Mass was said and a blessing given to the men in their mail coats, and afterwards they filed through the crude doorways hacked in the house walls, climbing the hill, going secretly to a wheelwright's shop that opened onto the square in front of the castle. They crouched there, weapons ready. Men pulled on helmets, said their silent prayers and waited. Most had shields, but some preferred to go without, claiming they could move faster. Two had huge axes, weapons to strike terror in a small space. They touched their talismans, said more prayers and waited impatiently for the roar of the huge gun. None peered around the doorway for Joscelyn was watching them and he had given strict orders that they were to stay hidden until the gun fired. There is still a reward for every archer taken alive,“ he reminded them, but I'll give it for dead archers too.” Keep your shields up,' Robbie put in, thinking of the long English arrows.
They'll be dazed. Joscelyn said, and cowering from the noise. We just go in and kill them.'
Pray God that was true, Robbie thought, and he felt a twinge of guilt that he was fighting against Sir Guillaume, whom he liked, but he had sworn his new allegiance and he was convinced he was fighting for God, for Scotland and for the true faith. Five gold coins apiece,“ Joscelyn said, for the first five men up the steps and into the keep.” Why the hell did the gun not fire? He was sweating. It was a cool day, but he was hot because the greased leather coat under his plate armour was thick. That armour was the best that any of the attackers owned, but it was also the heaviest and Joscelyn knew it would be a struggle to keep up with the men in the lighter mail. No matter. He would join the fight where it was thickest and he relished the thought of cutting down screaming, desperate archers. And no prisoners,' he said, wanting his day to be crowned by death.
Sir Guillaume?“ Robbie suggested. Can we take him captive?” Does he have estates?' Joscelyn asked.
No,' Robbie admitted.
Then what ransom can he promise?'
None.'
So no prisoners!“ Joscelyn called to his attackers. Kill them all!” But not their women,' a man suggested.
Not their women. Joscelyn agreed, and regretted that the golden-haired beghard was not in the castle. Well, there would be other women. There were always other women.
The shadows lengthened. It had rained all morning, but the sky had cleared since and the sun was low, very low, and Joscelyn knew that Signor Gioberti was waiting until the last bright rays shone clean through the gate to dazzle the defenders. Then would come the noise, the evil-smelling smoke, the terrible crash of the iron striking the courtyard wall and, while the defenders were still stunned by the tumult, the armoured men would erupt in pitiless fury through the gate. God is with us. Joscelyn said, not because he believed it, but because he knew such a sentiment was expected of him. Tonight we feast on their food and women.' He was talking too much because he was nervous, but he did not realize it. This was not like a tournament where the loser could walk away, however bruised and cut. This was death's playground and, though he was supremely confident, he was also apprehensive.
