Arthur Clarke - Time’s Eye

Casey said bluntly, “Cecil, my man, you look like shit, despite that cocktail dress you’re wearing.”

De Morgan grunted. “When Alexander and his Macedonians get started on one of their debauches, they make British Tommies in the brothels of Lahore look like schoolboys. The King is sleeping it off. Sometimes he misses whole days, though he’s always awake for the evenings when it all starts again …” De Morgan accepted a goblet of wine from a servant. “And this Macedonian wine is like goat’s urine. But still—hair of the dog.” He took a deep draft, shuddering.

Eumenes called the meeting to order.

Captain Grove began to set out ideas on how to strengthen Babylon’s already formidable defenses. He said to Eumenes, “I know you already have crews out reinforcing the walls and digging out the moat.” That was especially important on the western side where the walls had been all but rubbed out by time; in fact the Macedonians had decided to abandon the western side of the city and use the Euphrates itself as a natural barrier, and were building up defenses on its bank. “But,” said Grove, “I would recommend setting up deeper defenses further out, especially to the east, where the Mongols will be coming from. I’m thinking of pillboxes and trenches—fortifications we can set up quickly.” Many of these concepts took a little translating, through Eumenes’ assistants and the hungover de Morgan.

Eumenes listened patiently for a while. “I will have Diades look into this.” Diades was Alexander’s chief engineer. “But you must know that the King is not mindful simply to defend. Of all the fields on which he has fought, Alexander is most proud of his victorious sieges—at Miletus and Tyre, and a dozen other examples—these are epic triumphs that will surely echo down the ages.”

Captain Grove nodded. “Indeed they do. What I think you’re telling us is that Alexander won’t be content to be the victim of a siege himself. He is going to want to ride out on the field and meet the Mongols in open battle.”

“Yes,” murmured Abdikadir, “but the Mongols, by comparison, were poor at siege warfare, and much preferred to meet their enemies on open ground. If we ride out we meet our enemies on the field of their choice.”

Eumenes growled, “The King has spoken.”

Grove said quietly, “Then we must listen.”

“But,” said Abdikadir, “Alexander and Genghis are separated by more than fifteen centuries, far longer than separates Genghis from us. We should exploit every advantage we have.”

Eumenes said smoothly, “Advantages. You mean your guns and grenades. “Again he used the English words.

Since meeting Alexander’s army, the British and the moderns had tried to keep back some secrets from the Macedonians. Now Casey jumped off his couch and reached across the table toward de Morgan. “Cecil, you bastard. What else have you given away?”

De Morgan cowered back out of his reach, and two of Eumenes’ guards hurried forward, their broad hands on their stabbing swords. Abdikadir and Grove grabbed Casey and pulled him back down.

Bisesa sighed. “Come on, Casey, what did you expect? You know what Cecil’s like by now. He’d offer Eumenes your testicles on a plate if he thought it would be to his advantage.”

Abdikadir said, “And Eumenes probably knew about it all anyhow. These Macedonians aren’t fools.”

Eumenes followed these exchanges with interest. He said, “You forget that Cecil may not have had a choice in what he told me.” De Morgan translated this hesitantly, his eyes averted, and Bisesa saw the dark side of the choice he had made. “And besides,” Eumenes went on, “my foreknowledge will save us time now we need it, won’t it?”

Captain Grove leaned forward. “But you must understand, Secretary, that our weapons, though formidable, are limited. We have only a small stock of grenades, and ammunition for the guns …” The most significant armament was nineteenth-century vintage, a few hundred Martini rifles brought from Jamrud. Such a number of weapons wouldn’t count for much against a fast-moving horde numbered in the tens of thousands.

Eumenes quickly grasped these ideas. “So we have to be selective about how we use these weapons.”

“Exactly,” Casey growled. “Okay—if we commit to this—we should use the modern weapons to blunt their first attack.”

“Yes,” said Abdikadir. “Flash-bang grenades will spook the horses—and the men, if they’re unused to firearms.”

Bisesa said, “ But they have Sable.We don’t know what weapons came down in that Soyuz with her—surely at least a couple of pistols.”

“That won’t help her much,” said Casey.

“No. But if she’s thrown in her lot with the Mongols, she may have used them to familiarize the Mongols with firearms. And she has modern training. We have to plan for the possibility that they’ll come in anticipating what we might do.”

“Shit,” said Casey. “Hadn’t thought of that.”

“All right,” Captain Grove said. “Casey, what else do you suggest?”

“Prepare for firefights in the city,” Casey said. Quickly the moderns sketched out the discipline for Eumenes: how you could anticipate the enemy’s likely approaches, and set up interlocking firing positions, and so forth. “We’ll have to train up some of your men in using the Kalashnikovs,” said Casey to Grove. “The key will be not to waste ammo—not to fire until you have a clear target … If we draw the Mongols into the city it’s possible we could soak up a large proportion of their forces.”

Again Eumenes grasped the ideas quickly. “But Babylon would be destroyed in the process,” he said.

Casey shrugged. “Winning this war is going to be costly—and if we lose, Babylon dies anyhow.”

Eumenes said, “Perhaps this tactic should be a last resort. Anything else?”

Bisesa said, “Of course it’s not just guns we’ve brought with us from the future, but knowledge. We may be able to suggest weapons that could be built with the resources available here.”

Casey said, “What are you thinking, Bis?”

“I’ve seen those kit-form catapults and siege engines the Macedonians have. Maybe we could come up with some improvements. And then, how about Greek fire? Wasn’t that a primitive form of napalm? Just naphtha and quicklime, I think …”

They discussed such possibilities for a while, but Eumenes cut them short. “I only dimly grasp what you describe, but I fear there will not be enough time to implement such schemes.”

“I’ve got something that could be delivered quickly,” Abdikadir murmured.

“What?” Bisesa asked.

“Stirrups.” Sketching quickly, he described what he meant. “A kind of footrest for horsemen, attached by leather straps …”

When Eumenes understood that these devices, quickly and simply manufactured, could multiply a cavalry’s maneuverability, he became extremely interested. “But our Companions are men of tradition. They will resist any innovation.”

“But,” Abdikadir pointed out, “the Mongols have stirrups.”

There was a great deal to be put in place, and little time to do it; the meeting broke up.

Bisesa drew Abdikadir and Casey to one side. “You really think this battle is inevitable?”

“Yeah,” Casey growled. “Alternatives to war—nonviolent means of resolving disputes—depend on the willingness of everybody concerned to back down. Back in the Iron Age, these guys haven’t had the benefit of our experience of two thousand years of bloodshed, give or take a few Hiroshimas and Lahores, to learn that it is sometimes necessary to back down. For them, war is the only way.”

Bisesa studied him. “That’s surprisingly thoughtful for you, Casey.”