Chapter 26: Engines of God
The workshop beneath the Tower of David buzzed with the low, methodical rhythm of men shaping iron and wood. Shafts clattered into sorting bins. Coils of rope hung in loops from ceiling beams. The scent of pine resin and forge smoke settled thick in the air.
In the center of the chamber, flanked by lamps and parchment drawings, stood two models—each unlike anything the Holy Land had seen.
Balian, still in dust-covered riding boots from a circuit of the eastern patrols, stepped forward and ran a hand along the wooden spine of the larger machine. Dozens of tightly-packed arrow shafts rested in individual slots along a shallow wooden platform set at a steep angle. Below it, a sliding rack and a linked torsion crank waited for demonstration.
"This is your new miracle?" Balian asked, skeptical but not dismissive.
Ethan grinned faintly. "Not a miracle. A repeatable mechanism. It's based on a Roman war engine, but this version is entirely mechanical. No fire."
He gestured toward the loaded frame. "Spring-tension arms beneath the rack. A rotating cam pulls them back evenly. Then a release catch looses all the bolts at once. Fifty arrows in a spread."
Balian gave a low whistle. "No smoke. Just death."
"Exactly," Ethan said. "Quiet, sudden, and devastating. Perfect for shocking a massed charge or breaking siege formations. It's a volley machine, not a ranged one—it's not going to shoot a hundred paces, but at fifty or sixty, the bolts hit like a storm."
"Can it be reloaded fast?"
"With trained crews, five minutes. Each arrow is short-fletched and fire-hardened. Some we wrap in oilcloth for fire use—but only if the wind favors us."