In the Heart of Darkness

John, he saw, had chosen his weapons well. The scorpions were that type of stone-throwing catapult which were called palintonos. The name was derived from the "fold-back spring" design which allowed the two torsion arms to swing forward further than was possible in the more traditional "straight-spring" euthytonos. The weapons were mounted on the same type of tripod base which Roman engineers used for cranes and hoists. The scorpions were then fitted onto a swivel attachment atop the tripod. The end result was a weapon which could be tilted up or down as well as swung sideways in a complete circle.

Romans did not manufacture their artillery engines to the same degree of standardization as would be common in future eras. But, from long experience, Belisarius recognized that the two scorpions were both in what was considered the "11-pound" class—that being the weight of stone shot each was capable of hurling. Using that weight of shot, they had an effective range of well over 400 yards.

"How heavy are your firebombs?" he asked Eusebius.

"A little over eight pounds. Not more than nine."

Belisarius nodded.

"We should have a range of almost five hundred yards, then."

Again, he examined the scorpions. The weapons were placed on either side of the wood-castle, far enough apart to allow the engines to be swiveled without the six-foot-long firing troughs impeding each other. Unfortunately, of course, there was no way that both of them could be used simultaneously to fire over the same side. As they—to use Aide's expression—"crossed the T," one of the scorpions would be out of action completely.

For an idle moment, Belisarius pondered alternate ways of emplacing artillery on a ship. Almost immediately, another image came from Aide.

A steel ship, very sleek for all its gargantuan size, plowing through the sea. Cannons—three of them abreast—were mounted in a strange sort of enclosed swivel—

Turret.

—directly amidship. Two enclosed swivels—

Turrets.

—were mounted toward the bow, one toward the stern. Those cannons could be brought to bear in any direction. All nine could be employed in broadsides, to starboard or port. Six could also fire across the bow, and three across the stern.

"Oh, well," muttered Belisarius. "We'll have to make do with what we've got."

The enemy fleet was now almost within catapult range. The nearest ships were off their starboard bow at a thirty-degree angle. Examining the situation, and doing his best to estimate relative speeds, Belisarius decided that they would be able to use both scorpions for at least three minutes before the port scorpion could no longer be brought to bear.

"I'll handle the starboard scorpion," he announced. "Valentinian, you're in charge of the other one. Eusebius, you keep us supplied with firebombs."

He started to give orders to the twelve other soldiers standing on the platform, but saw there was no need. All of them, experienced artillerymen, had already taken their positions. Each scorpion had a six-man crew, not counting the aimer. Two men stood on either side of each scorpion, ready to turn the windlasses which cranked back the torsion springs. That work was exhausting—especially when done at the breakneck speed required in battle—so each man had a relief standing right behind him. The two men would alternate between shots. A loader fit the bomb into the trough while the sixth man engaged the claw which held the bowstring until the aimer pulled the trigger. Those last two men also had the job of helping the aimer move the heavy trough around and seeing to it that the strut which supported the end was properly adjusted for the desired range.

Everyone hurried to their tasks. Within a minute, the scorpions were ready to fire. Belisarius announced that he would fire first. With the help of his crew, he lined up the heavy trough so that the scorpion was bearing on the nearest of the enemy ships. As soon as he saw the target bracketed between the two "ears" which served as a rough aiming device, he yanked on the little lever which served as the weapon's trigger.

The scorpion bucked from the recoil. Not sixty yards away, the firebomb slammed into the sea with enough force to rupture the clay container. A ball of flame splattered across the waves.

"We're at sea," muttered Belisarius. Somewhat lamely, he added: "I forgot."

In land warfare, he had never had to worry about the heaving of a ship's deck. He had fired the catapult just at the moment when the ship's bow dipped into a trough.