Betrayed. Christopher Dinsdale
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shook his head and shrugged. “I myself am not a Templar knight like you. I am only a humble Venetian artillery maker. But I am also one who does not believe in coincidences. Perhaps there is a Great Design to the heavens? Why shouldn’t the most powerful substance man has ever invented have a divine ratio to its ingredients?”
“Incredible . . .” muttered Connor, looking at the sacks. “Tomasso, you mentioned that the powder had to be carefully mixed. How do you do that?”
Tomasso stood up and reached behind the bags of powder to remove a cloth hanging on the wall. Traces of powder could be seen engrained in the fabric.
“After crushing the powder together with a large mortar and pestle, you sift it through this cloth to ensure that the powder is evenly mixed. The powder is then caught in another clean cloth and wrapped up. We call the wrapped up cannon powder a charge. We keep all of the charges over there.”
He stood up and led the boys to large oak box. He lifted the lid. It was half-full of cloth packets bulging with powder. In each corner were larger bags made of coarser flax.
“This is where we keep the charges. It’s important to keep them as still as possible so the ingredients do not separate.”
“What are the bigger bags?” asked Connor.
Tomasso lifted one of the larger bags and opened it. “This bag is full of a type of powdered rock that absorbs water. You have to keep the charges dry. Humidity will cause the powder to get wet and sticky. Then the charges will be useless.”
He closed the lid and led the boys outside to the cannons. The sky was now brightening, with the sun starting to peek over the eastern horizon.
“To fire a cannon, you take a charge and stick it into the open end. Then, you pick up this pole and push the charge down to the back of the barrel. Next goes the cannonball. Of course at this point, nothing is going to happen. One thing is still missing. You need to light the charge. Do you see that little hole at the back of the cannon?”
The boys walked around and peered at the back of the cannon. At the top of the barrel was a small hole leading down into the heart of the weapon. Connor stood on his toes and peered down at the breach in the metal. “That is a deep hole. How do you get fire down into the cannon to light the charge?”
Tomasso smiled at the boy’s insatiable curiosity. “With a special wick. Next to the charges in the shop is a bag of string that has been soaked in a strong solution of saltpeter. The salt hardens the string so that you can push it down the hole until it pierces the charge. Then all you have to do is light the fuse. Three seconds later . . . Boom! The cannon ball is launched into the harbour.”
A loud clanging suddenly filled the air. Tomasso and the boys turned to face the keep. He placed his hands on their shoulders.
“Something is wrong. That is Prince Henry’s signal for an emergency gathering. Everyone except for those on sentry duty is expected to attend. Come on. I’ll take you to the Great Hall.”
Seven
Tomasso and the boys joined a stream of men flowing into the Great Hall. Connor and Angus could already hear the commotion and raised voices before they entered the arched doorway. A large gathering of knights had assembled in the centre of the room. The remaining men gathered loosely in a concerned circle around their leaders. Connor could just make out Prince Henry, who was leaning over, consulting with Sir Rudyard, Black Douglas and a short but strong-shouldered man with long curls of ebony hair. Prince Henry nodded, climbed up on one of the tables and held up his hands. The respectful crowd fell silent.
“Men, lend me your ears! The Bishop of Orkney has finally gone too far. He has demanded that all future taxations that were to be collected by my representatives for the Earldom of Orkney be instead given to the bishop himself and the Catholic church.”
“Doesn’t he know that is a declaration of war against the Crown of Norway?” shouted a knight.
“Aye, he does,” responded Prince Henry, frowning. “I’ve put up with his interference long enough. He has tried to rouse the villagers into rebellion against Norwegian rule, refused to accept my rightful authority over the Orkney and Shetland Islands and is known to be an English sympathizer. Now he has challenged my ability to collect the dues necessary to maintain order in my earldom.”
“What do you want us to do, Prince Henry?” shouted another.
The prince paused thoughtfully. “I think we have shown too much tolerance for a man who does not understand the meaning of the word. He thinks the villagers will support him in an uprising. However, I know better. They will rally behind the banner of the Sinclair clan. The bishop does not understand the loyalty of Scottish blood.
“Let’s teach him a lesson!” shouted another.
Prince Henry pointed a firm finger to the west. “We shall sail to his castle and give an overwhelming show of force to our old friend. We will also rally the villagers to join us, and we’ll storm his castle. I hereby declare that the bishop’s land and wealth is to be divided equally among the people of Orkney. As for the bishop himself, he will be given a choice: he may climb into a fishing boat with a promise never to return to our islands, or he will become a permanent resident within the dungeon of his own castle!”
A raucous cheer exploded through the Great Hall. Prince Henry stepped down, and the mighty bulk of Black Douglas took the table. His eyes glowed as he surveyed the room full of hardened knights. Then he barked out orders, breaking the crowd up into fighting garrisons and relegating them to the warships waiting in the harbour.
After receiving their assignments, the knights went to their personal sacks stored along the wall and unpacked their prized possessions of war. Chain mail jingled as they hoisted the heavy armour over their heads. Roars of war rang through the hall as warriors crashed their heavy swords against their scarred shields. They donned their helmets and lashed curved metal plates onto their shins and forearms. Connor and Angus eagerly watched the raucous, jovial crew they had come to know and respect transform into a battalion of intimidating warriors. The Great Hall quickly emptied as the fighters made for the harbour. The boys hurried as well to their straw mattresses, lifted their bo sticks from the floor and turned for the front gate. A pair of strong hands grabbed them from behind.
“Not so fast,” commanded a voice.
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