Beside it lay a
heap of metal slugs and lumps of stone. The end of the machine
was raised and pointed over the battlement. Behind it stood an
iron box which Nigel opened. It was filled with a black coarse
powder, like gritty charcoal.
"By Saint Paul!" said he, passing his hands over the engine, "I
have heard men talk of these things, but never before have I seen
one. It is none other than one of those wondrous new-made
bombards."
"In sooth, it is even as you say," Aylward answered, looking at it
with contempt and dislike in his face. "I have seen them here
upon the ramparts, and have also exchanged a buffet or two with
him who had charge of them. He was jack-fool enough to think that
with this leather pipe he could outshoot the best archer in
Christendom. I lent him a cuff on the ear that laid him across
his foolish engine."
"It is a fearsome thing," said Nigel, who had stooped to examine
it. "We live in strange times when such things can be made. It
is loosed by fire, is it not, which springs from the black dust?"
"By my hilt! fair sir, I know not. And yet I call to mind that
ere we fell out this foolish bombardman did say something of the
matter. The fire-dust is within and so also is the ball. Then
you take more dust from this iron box and place it in the hole at
the farther end--so. It is now ready. I have never seen one
fired, but I wot that this one could be fired now.
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