Much hung on Cymru himself of course, and his purpose did not waver. When I spoke of it once, he said:
“We have come a long way, Luke. Too far to abandon a purpose so nearly won.”
If the paralysis had not gripped my throat when the command to fire was needed, or if I had pursued them as they fled toward the East Gate, our victory would have been sealed already. We both knew that but he had never charged me with it. I said:
“They are a stubborn people, sire.”
Cymru laughed. “We Wilsh can be stubborn, too! And this hard life does us good. We have had too soft a time of it in the past.”
But all the same I brooded unhappily on the future. We could not keep the army in the field in winter. It was true we had a base in Salisbury on which we could fall back; but that would be a retreat and the thought sickened me. Nor was I confident, however high their morale stayed at present, that the Wilsh would cheerfully endure a winter in a foreign city, with the prospect of resuming the siege of another foreign city in the spring. A soldier must leave home and family when his monarch requires it; but it does not mean that he forgets them. And his longing for them does not weaken with absence but grows stronger.
Then one day in late summer a man in black robes, on a white horse, rode into the camp. It was Murphy, the High Seer.
• • •
He greeted me, and said: “You look well, Luke. Older and tougher, but well. And this is the army which you abandoned us to find. We have heard great things of it. I once doubted that you would take a Wilsh army against your own city and with such weapons as we gave you. I am glad to find I was wrong.”
I shrugged. “We have come so far, but here we stay. You can kill men in the field with Sten guns, but they do little harm to the stone walls of a city.”
“You should have asked us for another weapon, then.”
I looked at him sharply. “Is there such? Big guns, you mean? But can they be made with the materials we have?”
“No,” Murphy said, “or at least not easily. But there is a thing called a mortar. It was devised for use against forts, as a siege weapon. It throws bombs at a high angle to explode against the walls.”
I said doubtfully: “The walls of Winchester are not only high but strongly made.”
“Have you seen a thrush with a snail?” Murphy asked. “It will pick the shell up and throw it against the stone. The shell does not break at that first impact. But the bird picks it up and throws it again. It will throw it a score of times, fifty if necessary. In the end the shell is weakened. It breaks and the thrush gets its reward. We have many more than fifty bombs for you. I promise you: the walls of the city will crack like the snail’s shell.”
I said: “Where is this mortar, Murphy?”
He smiled. “You will not have long to wait. It will be here tomorrow. I rode ahead to tell you of it.”
“Get me this city,” I said, “and you will have your Science back. I promise that.”
“Within two days it will be yours.”
• • •
The mortar came at noon the next day, on a cart drawn by two horses. It was not at all like the cannons which the Prince of Petersfield had used against my father’s army. They had been long and slender of muzzle. The mortar was a squat affair, wide-mouthed, almost as broad across as it was long. It looked a poor instrument to break down the walls which Stephen had spent five years building up.
And the first bomb it cast fell short, dropping in marshy ground beneath the city’s wall, throwing up mud and water but doing no harm except to the frogs that dwelt there. Robb and Gunter had brought it, and they and Murphy consulted together and shifted the angle of the muzzle. The second bomb burst halfway up the wall, and the Wilsh who were watching raised a cheer at the sight. It died as the smoke cleared away, showing the wall undamaged.
The High Seers adjusted the muzzle again. The third bomb struck high up, just under the parapet. Robb said with satisfaction:
“I think we have it.”
Murphy had brought field glasses with him. These had lenses like spectacles but the lenses were doubled and much stronger. They made small distant objects seem large and close. I was using them, and I said:
“There is no damage there.”
“Not yet,” Murphy said. “It is a lucky thrush that gets its snail at the first blow. But we have the range and it is only a question of time.”
The mortar boomed again, and went on booming. After about an hour the glasses showed cracks and pittings in the wall. After two hours the parapet above that point collapsed, and the Wilsh cheered again.
The afternoon had turned warm, and the mortar itself gave off heat. Murphy wiped sweat from his brow.
“You were right. The walls are strong. But we have made a breach. Now it is only a question of hammering away at it.”
“How long, do you think?”
“Not today. But by noon tomorrow there will be a hole you can take your army through.”
“I can wait for that,” I said.
The angle of the muzzle had to be adjusted as the breach in the wall widened and deepened. The bombardment went on until the light failed with dusk. The top half of the wall had collapsed by then, but the lower half still held.
• • •
In the morning Hans came to my tent as usual to wake me, but I was awake already. He stood in the opening, silhouetted against the faint light of dawn. I said:
“This is a good day, Hans. Today we shall see our homes again.”
“Yes, sire,” he said. “Sire, there is someone who would see you; from the city.”
“Another deputation?” I stood up, yawning. “They are early risers. But they will get no better terms for that.”
“One man only. He who was an Acolyte.”
“Who was . . . ?”
I left the tent. Martin stood there, waiting. He had grown his hair and he wore ordinary clothes instead of the Acolyte’s black robe. Apart from that he seemed little different. He was thin, but he had never had much flesh on his bones.
I clasped his hand and said:
“Martin! I am glad to see you. How did you get here?”
“Through the Christians’ tunnel under the walls.”
That was the tunnel my brother Peter had used to take the city back from the Romsey army. I had not attempted to use it because it was known now, and they could pick my men off one by one as they came out. But I had not blocked it either.
I said: “You have been in the city? I thought you went to the High Seers in the Sanctuary under the rains of London?”
“I went there, but did not stay.”
“Could they not give you what you were seeking, either?”
“No.” He smiled. “I went a long journey and found what I sought in the place from which I started. But maybe the journey was necessary for all that.”
“What did you find?”
“Truth. The truth that is my truth. I am a Christian, Luke.”
I stared and laughed. “You jest! The truth you looked for was the truth of Science. Do you remember the old book you showed me, under the Ruins, with pictures of machines, and how bitterly you spoke against superstition and lies? Do you remember how you pleaded with me to flee the city with Ezzard, so that the mission of the High Seers could be preserved and Science at last brought back? Will you tell me now that you believe in this tale of a god born in a stable, out of the body of a maiden, who walked the earth performing wonders such as the Seers work in the Seance Hall, who died on a cross but three days later walked again, and who at last rose into the sky to sit among the stars and judge all men? Will you tell me this?”
“All that and more. Because Science gave no meaning to my life, but this does. But I did not come here to talk of Christian beliefs, Luke. I come to plead for the city which bore us both.”