Chapter 10 – Defensive Structures #4
“A treadwheel crane, yes, my lady. One of the largest in the Empire, according to Master Guisse,” he said, puffing comically to make her giggle. “And that’s the pile driver beside it. They’ll use that to make a coffer dam—that’s that diamond shape—and then bail out the water from the middle…”
Well, that was where some of the elms and whitebeams must have gone, Ophele thought, listening with rapt attention as he explained how the dam would become a footing, and the footings would support arches, and the arches would span the river all the way to Firkane.
“I like that,” Ophele said, deeply impressed. What she wouldn’t give for such a wheel to work the well, and spare her the endless cranking of the windlass. A breeze lifted, combing cool fingers through her hair, and she sighed. “Oh, the wind is so nice.”
“It puts me in mind of the wind off the Emme, in the capital,” Sir Tounot said reminiscently. “There are great paved walks along that river, and this time of year they are shaded by trees and arbors, with blue morning glories and climbing hydrangeas. But there is no view like this in Segoile.”
“Maybe one day we will have walks like that,” she said.
“If Master Ffloce has his way, we will exceed anything the capital can boast,” Sir Tounot said smugly.
“He plans public walks like the ones in Capricia, where even the common folk are welcome to promenade of an evening, and artists and musicians will gather under streetlights to compete for the attention of passersby. In Capricia, they say the Walk of Dreams is sustenance for the soul.”
“And we will have artists coming, and musicians?” she asked eagerly, looking down at the river as her imagination painted them over the trees and scrub brush. But then she caught her breath, her hand tightening on Sir Tounot’s arm. “What is that? Down in the trees, did you see it?”
“That is a devil, my lady.” He halted beside her, his eyes narrowing.
“I thought they didn’t come out until night.”
“It’s dark enough under the trees that they can move a little by day, or they would not be here to trouble us at all,” the knight answered somberly.
“The hunters have to be wary, when they venture into the forest. But the devils have to stay hidden in whatever holes they have found, for the least sunlight will set them afire.”
“I wish it would burn that one,” she murmured, looking with dread fascination. She didn’t want to see it, but she was also afraid to take her eyes from it. “Do you know what kind it is?”
“Too small for a wolf demon,” he said, looking obligingly down at the small shape. “I would say a strangler, my lady. Ghouls are rarely alone, and stranglers like to hide in such pla—”
“My lady!” came a call from behind them, and she turned to find a sodden Sir Miche striding toward them, soaked to the chest in muddy water. He was not smiling. “There you are. Please step back from the edge of the wall.”
“There’s a devil in the wood down there,” she explained as he seized her elbow and drew her back. “Sir Tounot was just—”
“Sir Tounot ought to have more sense,” he said sharply, with none of his usual drawling good humor. “All we need is for a bird to startle or that devil to start racketing and give you a fright, and we might as well throw ourselves over the side after you. Please do nothing of the sort again.”
“Well, I won’t,” she said meekly, and he sighed, rumpling up his hair.
“I beg your pardon,” he said. “It gave me a turn to find Master Eugene by himself, but I suppose you’ve earned a look from the top. Just stay back from the edge, I beg, for the sake of my heart. Where’s the devil?”
“Over there, you nagging auntie,” said Sir Tounot, eyeing him with some amusement. “Though it’s ducked back under cover now. Wish I had a bow.”
“I expect you’ll have another shot at it tonight,” Sir Miche said grimly.
“With all that water in the ditch, the devils are just going to have to paddle across. I think we’ve discovered where all the water from the stream at the north wall went.
You’re going to have a busy night on this side of town if we don’t get it emptied. ”
“Stars and ancestors. You’ve got them bailing it out?”
“Like bailing out the Brede,” Sir Miche said acidly, and Ophele trotted after them to the opposite end of the wall, glancing back at the churning mechanisms on the river behind her.
Would something like that work to drain the ditch?
Like a water wheel and a sluice down to the river?
In her mind, she could see how the pieces would fit together, but she had no notion how hard it would be to build such a thing.
It was on the tip of her tongue to ask, but they were already discussing the matter, their voices clipped and urgent, and Ophele’s hands moved anxiously together. She couldn’t interrupt them with her nonsense. If it was a good idea, surely they would have thought of it already.
Near the end of the wall, they came to a halt at the sight of the low trench, now a muddy moat where muck-covered men were scrambling about with torches, jamming them into the sides of the dirt piles.
It appeared they had filled one pond only to excavate another.
“Please excuse me, Your Grace,” Sir Tounot said, turning to offer a polite bow. “It was a very pleasant promenade. I will hope for another, once we have sufficient safeguards for yonder nursemaid.”
His humorous glance at Sir Miche made his intended target clear.
“I would like to watch them building the bridge again,” Ophele replied. “If it wouldn’t be too much trouble.”
“As long as you warn your nursemaid beforehand,” Sir Miche said as Sir Tounot departed, drawing her back toward the stairs. “I promised Rem I’d keep an eye out for you, my lady. Not because of anything you might do, but to make sure no misfortune befalls you. There are many varieties available.”
“I know. Like that devil.”
“That is one virtue of placing you atop a mighty wall,” he conceded.
“They would have some trouble reaching you here, barring the—careful,” he said quickly, grabbing for her as Ophele suddenly swayed, sagging toward the wall and for an instant, supported only by his arm. “Are you all right? Miss a step?”
“Yes. I guess,” Ophele said woozily, shaking her head. She felt very peculiar, with a strange buzzing in her ears like a swarm of bees at night. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s been a long day,” he said, but his tawny eyes narrowed as he examined her, and he boosted her directly into the cart when they reached Eugene. “No, stay in the cart. You need a little feeding, my lady.”
“Oh, no, I just missed my footing, and Eugene has already worked so hard—”
“If he can pull six barrels of water, he can haul one Duchess of Andelin,” Sir Miche replied, light and implacable. “I wonder what Wen’s making for supper. Another few minutes and I might settle for a haunch of donkey.”
“He said mutton and parsnips,” Ophele replied, her nose wrinkling.
“I’ll trade my bread for your parsnips, Your Highness.” Sir Miche whistled and made her laugh as they set off east, the rickety cart swaying.
* * *
Remin was the first to step upon the completed footing of the bridge.
“Not a wobble,” he said, marveling as he watched the dark water of the Brede streaming around the new stone island, an oblong diamond that cut straight and true through that turbulent tide. “You’ll be starting the docks next week?”
“Yes, Your Grace,” said Master Guisse, examining the sides of the footing with a critical eye. “So long as we have sufficient hands, I do not anticipate any further delay.”
“I do not anticipate borrowing any more workers from you,” said Remin, who had stolen a dozen laborers to sort out the flooding by the wall. That had been a very long couple of days for everyone.
But even with devils and floods, the work of the valley continued, and he and the master went on to the proposed site of the port, where the first piles had already been driven into the river, outlining its curving form.
The machines required to build a bridge were much the same as those that would build the port and its network of docks, and the need for transport across the river was urgent.
The long summer days allowed plenty of time to shuttle men and supplies back and forth from the Gellege Bridge, but soon enough the days would begin to shorten, and they could not afford to have wagons racing the devils to the gates.
Remin already had another work crew building a fortification halfway between Tresingale and the bridge, just in case.
This port would solve the problems of overland travel.
Like everything else, it would grow with time; Master Didion and Master Guisse had put their heads together on the final design, a marvel of engineering where even the cranes would be works of art.
The port of Tresingale must be efficient, for all the trade of the Brede would flow through it, up into the valley or onto the bridge, for further transport overland.
But it was important to Remin that it should be beautiful.
One day, the faces of the stars would look down on visitors from the hillside: Zeraf, the governor of trade, or Nahvet, the star of sailors, a weathered old man with keen eyes, and his lamp ever lifted.
Remin wanted people to know when they had arrived in Tresingale.