The Byzantine Wager

Chapter 60 - At the Gates of Nicea

Chapter 60 - 

At the Gates of Nicea

"We're in deep shit now," Pons paused to spit over the side of the parapet. "They are bringing up a battering ram. How is that pot of oil coming along?" he called down. Behind and below a copper cauldron was being heated.

"Looks like we're in for some close work." Cyn handed some crossbow bolts to the men on the wall beside him. He opened a compartment on the bottom of his quiver and pulled out a small clay jar. He inserted two fingers in the jar and scooped out a sticky brownish goo. He smeared some on his forearm and handed the jar to one of the others.

"Smear some of this on the shafts of the bolt." Cyn demonstrated using the tarry substance.

The man beside him sniffed the pot. "What is it?"

"Pine tree resin. Where I come from we use it to hold the bolt into place on the groove of the crossbow when we shoot downwards at the foot of the wall. We don't put pine tree resin in the damned wine for 'flavor.' Mind you apply it smoothly - don't get any on the feathers - then set them aside until we need them." His Greek was getting better, but it was useful to have the items handy - 'bolt,' 'groove,' and 'feather' - to point to as he spoke.

The men were on the top of a round tower which flanked a small gatehouse on the western wall of the city of Nicaea. Cyn handed his arbalest to the soldier on his right. "Do you know how to use the crank to load this?" He mimed.

The man nodded.

"Good. I shoot it. I hand it to you. You crank like a sonofabitch. You set a bolt in nice and tight. Then you hand it back to me."

He turned to a dirty kid in rough homespun clothes, perhaps twelve years of age, who had climbed the wall to watch. "Make yourself useful, you little shit. As soon as this man gets it cocked, you hand him the next bolt." He placed another quiver at the kid's feet. Cyn looked over the parapet. The battering ram had rolled closer. It was made of a massive tree trunk placed in a sling of thick ropes - probably scrounged from the rigging on a ship. One end of the ram had been capped with an iron glob which resembled... a phallus? The wooden framework was covered with planks over which water soaked hides had been stretched to dampen the effects of flaming missiles. A team of oxen had been hitched to the ram and were pulling it. Behind the ram came a squad of about a dozen heavily armored men. They wore helmets and breastplates and each one had a twelve foot long spear in one hand and carried a large square shield on the other.

Cyn noticed something else. There was something on the top of the ram. He stopped preparing his crossbow. "What the hell is that?" he asked, but Pons had stepped aside to shout to the nearby tower to Issac and Alexios Angelos, the leaders of the rebellion. Cyn focused his gaze. Was someone tied to the top? The person was naked, that much was clear. As the ram trundled closer Cyn could hear screaming and could make out gray hair, breasts, and a thick patch of hair between the legs. It was a woman of middle years.

"Hey Pons, you must see this." he called.

Pons looked back to the ram. "Oh shit. The bastards have tied a prisoner onto the ram, They must hope we won't dump oil on it and kill her."

"Yeah, well it looks like it is tough luck for poor her," the burly crossbowman replied. "Have you noticed what is shaping up behind the ram?"

The enemy continued to spill out of the camp and formed ranks. A second company of soldiers. Cyn tried to count them. Twenty, forty, no even more, they kept coming. Over their shoulders they carried long double bladed axes. Verangians.

Pons assessed the situation at a glance. "If that lot gets inside the gate we're done for. There is no way our troops can hold out against them. Any one of them would probably be the deadliest man I have ever faced."