Tyrant: Destroyer of Cities by Christian Cameron Read Free Book Online Page A

raise the frame off the deck and lower it – swaying slightly in the very gentle motion of the Bay of Salmon – until the pin slid home into the deck and the beam below.
    ‘Needs a cross brace,’ Neiron said, getting into the spirit of the thing. ‘Look here – something that comes out of the base and pins into the deck.’
    In fact, the whole weapon rotated slowly back and forth on its pin – a two-fingers-thick rod of iron – swaying with the motion of the waves.
    ‘Never thought of the waves,’ Draco said.
    Neiron made a sound of derision.
    Satyrus moved the weapon back and forth with his hand. It was heavy, but well balanced. Then he got down on his hands and knees and looked at the place where the pin entered the deck.
    ‘Wearing against the deck boards already,’ he said. ‘Draco’s right. It has to have a bronze mounting plate. But let’s shoot it anyway.’
    He walked over and looked at the port-side forward weapon, which was fixed in place. It could only be moved if a dozen men lifted the entire frame. Out beyond the mole, he could see a ship putting to sea – the Macedonian ambassador.
    He walked back to see Diokles, his former helmsman and now captain of Oinoe , a heavy teteres, or ‘fourer’, emerge from below decks with a heavy iron spear.
    ‘Shooting away a couple of drachma every round,’ he said as he came up. ‘Like throwing money at the enemy.’
    ‘I’ll just have the new weapons stripped off Oinoe, then,’ Satyrus responded.
    ‘Not my money!’ Diokles laughed. ‘It’s yours!’ He gave Draco the spear.
    Between them Draco and Neiron spun the winding handles on the weapon’s torsion mechanism. The gears made a curious noise, almost musical, as the handles turned. Satyrus and Helios took a turn.
    ‘Not exactly fast ,’ Satyrus said.
    ‘That’s tight enough. Never overwind – that’s how you break a rope, and then you’re done for.’ He put a hand carefully on the string of the giant bow. Satyrus did the same.
    The bowstring was as thick as rope, woven of horsehair. It was as hard as a tree branch under his hand.
    ‘Load!’ Draco called, and Neiron and Helios swung the iron spear up and onto the weapon’s loading trough. The nock slid effortlessly onto the string. ‘Ready!’
    ‘You want to do it, lord?’ Draco asked.
    Satyrus didn’t pretend. ‘Yes!’ he said, and placed himself behind the frame, his hand on the releasing handle.
    ‘Stand a little clear, like this. Sometimes a string breaks, or the winches give way. Either way, you don’t want to be right behind her, the bitch.’ Draco nodded.
    Satyrus ignored him, to line up his shot. ‘Ready to shoot,’ he said.
    Draco stood back.
    Satyrus pulled the handle and the spear flashed away, so fast that none of them could trace its flight. The frame shook and twisted on its pin, and the deck groaned, and the arms of the heavy bow made a curious thwack as they hit the limit of their travel.
    The spear vanished. It went far enough that none of them saw the fall of the shot, and they all stood around, disappointed.
    Neiron shook his head. ‘Look at that,’ he said. He pushed against the weapon’s frame, and it tilted.
    One shot had bent the pin on which it rotated.
    ‘Thetis’ glittering breasts!’ Draco said.
    ‘Best put it on a fixed frame until we can get ourselves a bronzesmith,’ Satyrus said. He was watching the ambassador’s ship. ‘How many men do we have who can use these things accurately?’
    Neiron snorted.
    ‘Looks to me as if we need to have trained crews,’ Satyrus said. ‘And targets on the shore. And contests and prizes. We go to sea in two weeks. I’d like us to be able to hit something.’
    Neiron nodded. ‘And what will one of these here spears do to a ship?’ he asked. ‘Anything?’
    Draco nodded. ‘Marines?’
    Satyrus and Neiron nodded. Diokles shook his head. ‘Better train some sailors, too.’
    Satyrus left them debating where they should hold the drills. He was in a