The last month had been productive of so much, it seemed to me, as I reflected in the shelter of our mantlet—productive of a complete alteration in life, above all of that greatest of gifts at which Aryenis had hinted as we rode to Miletis the first time: “Not only life, but lots and lots more.”
Kyrlos’s voice brought me back to the present.
“And now, Wrexham, my friend, will you outline your plan once more? It seems to me good, if, indeed, this wondrous powder of yours will work.”
“Work I hope it will, Kyrlos. It is not of the best, for I have had to use crude materials, but our experiments make me think it should serve our turn.”
It was only the day we left Aornos that John had told me what was the bulk of his mysterious “engineer stores.” Nothing less than coarse-made gunpowder. As I have mentioned, he spent all his time pottering about the workshops or visiting the markets in Miletis, and considering what modern conveniences might be made with local material. Among his other finds had been the discovery of saltpetre. Sulphur was common, and charcoal was, of course, to be had in unlimited amounts, for the Sakae use it a good deal for household purposes, small braziers which can be carried from room to room.
The first two attempts to storm the Shamans’ defences had led him to the conclusion that the siege would last for months if some means other than the mediæval ones available could not be found. Hence his talks with Kyrlos and Andros, culminating in his return to Miletis accompanied by his crooked-nosed engineer friend. His experiments had justified his hopes, and, still more wonderful, none of his band of assistants had so far blown themselves up, though many were blackened and speckled of face and hand, and singed of brow and moustache.
But they were full of keenness, and what was almost as important, they obeyed Wrexham implicitly. So now—stored under safe guard—was a pile of tarred sacks filled with John’s home-made powder, and long coils of fuse, the sewing of which had taken many women many days. Coarse-grained stuff it was, and the fuse burned with an irregularity that would have horrified any inspector of ordnance stores, but—it did burn. So with his score of henchmen the irrepressible John proposed to cross the little bridge at dawn, dump his joyously uncertain powder against the gates, lay his hopelessly erratic fuses, touch them off, and hope for the best.
Behind him was to be a storming party under Henga ready to rush the gate defences if and when the powder exploded, while following on their heels would come Andros with the bulk of the troops to storm through the town up to the main citadel. I was thankful for the still doubtful leg which prevented me from running much, being quite content to assist Alec and Payindah with a rifle in covering the loopholes as the explosive party went in. But Alec—whether from a desire to shine in Ziné’s eyes or from honest lust of battle I cannot say—intended to join Henga in the assault. Myself, I proposed to follow very quietly in the crowd, having no desire to get mixed up with a hand-to-hand mêlée until my leg was good once more.
I listened to John explaining the details of his plan, Kyrlos listening gravely, and Andros’s quick brain ready with ever-pertinent questions. The plan as plan was quite simple. Wrexham with ten men with powder-bags would cross the bridge and lay their charges. With them would go ten of Henga’s men to protect them in their work as far as protection was possible; but the chief danger lay in missiles from the walls, and against these little could be done. Behind them would be twenty picked stalwarts of Stephnos’s troops with bags of earth to damp the powder, and lastly, six men with lighting gear, led by the crooked-nosed engineer.
If the charges could be laid and fired—both of which propositions were distinctly doubtful in view of the narrow approach, the poor powder, and the uncertain fuses—there was no doubt that the Shamans—completely unaccustomed to explosives—would be thrown into such confusion that Henga’s party should be able to rush the gate defences, and we should then win our way into the city. But John was confident that it could and would be done.