Great news. But we Persians have no gunpowder weapons with which to train our horses. How to steal them from the enemy? Or—better yet—convince the Romans to supply us with the infernal things?
For a moment, Belisarius and Baresmanas stared at each other. Then, seeing the Roman general’s faint nod, Baresmanas looked away.
We will discuss the matter later was the meaning of the nod. That, and:
I have my opinion, but—
That was enough. An experienced diplomat, Baresmanas was well aware of the controversies which were undoubtedly raging among the Romans over this very delicate problem. An alliance with Persia was one thing. Arming the ancient Medean foe with gunpowder weapons was a different proposition altogether.
There was no point in pressing the matter at the moment, so Baresmanas changed the subject.
“And the grenades?” He pointed to Kurush. “According to my nephew, the things are solely used in close order assaults.”
“He’s quite right. That is their function. I never observed them used any other way in India.”
He decided to pass on a secret, now. The enemy almost certainly knew it anyway. Some of their spies must have escaped the slaughter at the Hippodrome where Belisarius and Antonina crushed the Malwa-engineered Nika rebellion. If nothing else, the bodies of the traitor Narses and his companion Ajatasutra had never been found. Both Belisarius and Theodora were certain that the former Grand Chamberlain, with his legendary wiliness, had managed to make his escape.
So:
“My wife—she commands our only force of grenadiers, the Theodoran Cohort—has introduced a more long-range capability to grenade warfare.”
He described, briefly, the sling and sling-staff methods of Antonina’s grenadiers, before concluding: “—but, even so, we are still talking about bow-range, no more.”
Baresmanas and Kurush nodded understandingly. Slings were not a weapon which Persian nobility favored personally, but they were quite familiar with the ancient devices.
Belisarius poured himself some more wine and, then, after glancing inquiringly about the table, refilled the goblets of Bouzes and Baresmanas as well.
As he set the wine down, the general reflected upon the absence of servants in the pavilion. That simple fact told him a great deal about his host, all of which met his complete approval.
Kurush seemed otherwordly and absent-minded, in some ways. More precisely, he seemed absent-minded in the way that very rich people often are—so accustomed to personal service that they treat it as a routine fact of life. But when it came to military matters, Kurush had obviously been able to discard his class attitudes. The battle-tested officer had not made the nobleman’s mistake of forgetting that lowly menials have ears, and minds, and tongues. So he and his distinguished guests would pour their own wine, and serve each other as comrades.
Belisarius, after taking a sip of that excellent vintage, continued:
“You will probably not have experienced the siege cannons, as yet. The devices are huge, heavy, and ungainly. Useless in a field battle. But you will encounter then soon enough, at Babylon. The Malwa will surely bring them up to reduce the walls.”
“How powerful are they?” asked Baresmanas.
“Think of the largest catapult you’ve ever seen, and then multiply the force of the projectile by a factor of three. No, four or five.” He shrugged. “The Malwa do not use the things particularly well, in my opinion. Based, at least, on my observations at Ranapur. But they hardly need to. Ranapur was a great city, with the tallest and thickest brick walls I’ve ever seen. By the time the siege cannons were done—which still took months, mind you—those great walls were so much rubble.”
Kurush grimaced. “The walls of Babylon are not brick, more’s the pity. At least, not kiln-brick. The outer walls were, at one time, but the city’s been deserted for centuries. Over the years, the peasants of the region have used that good brick to build their own huts. All that’s left of the outer walls is the rubble core. The inner walls are still standing, but they’re made entirely of sun-dried bricks. After all these centuries, the walls aren’t much stronger than packed earth.”
“Thick walls, though, aren’t they?” asked Maurice.
Kurush nodded. “Oh, yes. Very thick! The outer walls are still over fifty yards wide, with a hundred yard moat in front of them. The inner walls are a double wall, with a military road in the middle. Counting that road—say, seven yards in width—the inner walls probably measure some twenty yards in thickness.”