"Didn't you tell me, a few days ago, that Ranapur is a mining province?"
Sanga nodded. "Yes. Almost a third of the empire's copper is mined here."
Belisarius squinted at the terrain over which the Malwa army was making its slow way. He noted that the rebels were not meeting the oncoming advance with catapult fire. That was odd, on the face of it. The vague thought in his mind began to crystallize.
Sanga noticed his companion's sudden preoccupation.
"You are thinking something, Belisarius. May I ask what it is?"
Belisarius hesitated a moment. For all that he liked Sanga, the Rajput was, after all, a future enemy. On the other hand-for the moment, the fate of Belisarius and his men was bound up with that of the Rajputs.
"Forgive my saying so, Rana Sanga, but I have found that your Malwa siege techniques are a bit-how shall I put? — simple, perhaps, by Roman standards. I suspect it is because most of your wars have been fought in this huge river valley. I do not think you have our experience with campaigns in mountainous country."
Sanga tugged his beard, thinking. "That's quite possibly true. I have never observed Roman sieges, of course. But it is certainly true one of the reasons the Maratha have always been such a thorn in our side is because of their rocky terrain, and their cunning use of hillforts. A siege in Majarashtra is always twice as difficult as a siege in the Ganges plain."
He peered closely at the Roman. "You suspect something," he announced.
Again, Belisarius hesitated. He was watching the Malwa advance intently. The first line of the infantrymen was now almost halfway across the five hundred yards of no-man's land which separated the Malwa front trenches from the wall of Ranapur. Still, there was no catapult fire.
Belisarius straightened.
"Three factors strike me as significant here, Rana Sanga. One, the rebels have experienced miners in their ranks. Two, they have known for weeks-if not months-that the main assault would come here. Lord Harsha has obviously made no attempt to feint elsewhere. Three, there is no catapult fire-as if they were hoarding their remaining gunpowder."
He scratched his chin. "Now that I think about it, in fact, it seems to me that the rebel catapult fire has been very sporadic for several days, now. Let me ask you-do you know if Lord Harsha has had sappers advancing counter-mines?"
The answer was obvious from the blank look on the Rajput's face.
Belisarius still hesitated. The suspicion taking shape in his mind was incomplete, uncertain-as much guesswork as anything else. The capabilities of gunpowder, and the permutations of its use on a battlefield, were still new and primarily theoretical for him. He was not even sure if-
The facets erupted in a shivering frenzy. Human battlegrounds, for Aide, were an entirely theoretical concept. (An utterly bizarre one, besides, to its crystalline consciousness.) But now, finally, the strange idea forming in Belisarius' mind gelled enough for Aide to grasp its shape. A knowledge of all history ruptured through the serried facets.
Danger! Danger! The siege of Petersburg! The battle of the Crater!
Belisarius almost gasped at the force of the vision which plumed into his mind.
A tunnel-many tunnels-underground, shored with wooden beams and planks. Men in blue uniforms with stubby caps were placing cases filled with sticks-not sticks, some kind of gunpowder devices-along every foot of those tunnels. Stacking them, one atop the other. Laying fuses. Leaving.
Above. Soldiers wearing grey uniforms atop ramparts.
Below. Fuses burning.
Above. Armageddon came.
Belisarius began dismounting from his horse. He glanced at his cataphracts and made a little gesture with his head. Immediately, the three Thracians followed their general's lead. Fortunately, the Romans were only wearing half-armor. Had they been encumbered with full cataphract paraphernalia, they would have found it difficult to dismount unassisted, and impossible to do it swiftly.
"I may be wrong, Rana Sanga," he said quietly, "but I would strongly urge you to dismount your men. If I were the rebel commander of Ranapur, I would have riddled that no-man's land with mines and crammed them full of every pound of gunpowder I had left."
Rana Sanga stared at the battleground. The entire mass of Malwa infantry were now jammed into a space about a mile and a half wide and not more than two hundred yards deep. All semblance of dressed lines had vanished. The advancing army was little more than a disordered mob, now. In the rear, Ye-tai warriors were trotting back and forth, forcing the stragglers forward. Their efforts served only to increase the confusion.
It was a perfect target for catapult fire. There was no catapult fire.
Sanga's dusky face paled slightly. He turned in the saddle and began shouting orders at his cavalrymen. Surprised, but well-disciplined, his men obeyed him instantly. Within ten seconds, all five hundred Rajput horsemen were standing on the ground, holding their mounts by the reins.
Belisarius saw the small Ye-tai cavalry troop staring at them with puzzlement. The Ye-tai leader frowned and began to shout something.
His words were lost. The world ended.
Belisarius was hurled to the ground. A rolling series of explosions swept the battlefield. Even at a distance, the sound was more like a blow than a noise. Lying on his side, staring toward Ranapur, he saw the entire Malwa army disappear in a cloud of dust. Streaking through the dust, shredding soldiers, were a multitude of objects. Most of those missiles, he realized dimly, were what Aide called shrapnel. But the force of the explosions was so incredible that almost anything became a deadly menace.
Still half-stunned, Belisarius watched a shield-a good Ye-tai shield, a solid disk of wood rimmed with iron-sail across the sky like a discus hurled by a giant. The Ye-tai cavalry who had been approaching them were still trying to control their rearing mounts. The spinning shield decapitated their commander as neatly as a farmwife beheads a chicken. An instant later, the entire troop of Ye-tai horsemen was struck down by a deluge of debris.
Debris began falling among the Rajputs and Romans. Casualties here were relatively light, however, mainly because the men were already dismounted and were able to fall to the ground before the projectiles arrived. Most of the injuries which the Rajputs suffered were due to the trampling hooves of terrified and injured horses.
After that first moment of shock, Belisarius found his wits rapidly returning.
The first law of gunpowder warfare, he mused. Stay low to the ground.
More debris rained down on him. He curled into a ball, hiding as much of himself as possible under his shield.
Very low.
It felt as if a tribe of dwarves was hammering him with mallets.
I wish I had a hole to hide in. Or a shovel to dig one.
Aide: They will be called foxholes. Soldiers will dig them as automatically as they breathe.
Thumpthumpthumpthumpthumpthump.
I believe you. He tried to visualize the shovels.
Thumpthumpthumpthumpthumpthump.
Aide brought an image into his mind. A small spade, hinged at the joint where the blade met the handle. Easily carried in a soldier's kit.
Thumpthumpthumpthump. Thumpthump.
The first thing we'll start making when we get back to Rome.
Thump. Thump. Thump. THUMP.
The very first thing.
The explosions ceased. Cautiously he raised his head. Then he levered himself out from under his soil-and-stone-covered shield. Grimacing, he brushed a piece of bloody gore off his leg.