novelSusiti Chapter 146 Greek Fire and Soap
Chapter 146 Greek Fire and Soap
Chapter 146 Greek Fire and Soap (Part Two)
Lyon dragged a piece of discarded thick cable made of twisted hemp rope from the corner of the wall, then fixed both ends of the cable to the two ends of the worktable, and twisted the middle part with force, and the rope immediately accumulated a tight force.
"Look, as I twist the rope, it's gathering power. Once released—" He loosened his grip, and the rope swung back sharply, making a "whooshing" sound as it swept several small tools off the table.
Accord jumped back in fright: "Saint Anthony! That's quite a force!"
Zahir's scarred eyes were fixed on the rope that was still trembling slightly.
"Torque—" he repeated in a low voice, "like the bow of a ballista. But a ballista fires a giant arrow, not a clay pot."
“The principle is the same,” Lyon said excitedly. “We can build a torsion projectile. We can make two vertical torsion bundles from horsehair, animal tendons, or the strongest hemp rope, and place a projectile arm horizontally in the middle. Instead of a spoon at the end of the projectile arm, we can create an open projectile pocket that fits snugly against the waist of the pottery jar.”
He quickly sketched on the parchment: "In operation, the winch pulls the launch arm back, twisting the rope to accumulate energy. The clay pot is placed in the launch bag. After aiming, the trigger is released. The torque is released instantaneously, and the launch arm swings forward, launching the clay pot. Because the torque release is faster than the descent due to gravity, the initial velocity is higher and the range is longer. Moreover—if we design a clever loading mechanism, we can quickly put in the next clay pot when the launch arm returns to its original position."
Zahir leaned closer to examine the sketch more closely.
"A slingshot—" he murmured, "The clay pot spins in the air and easily breaks upon landing. Only when Greek fire flows out can it ignite."
"Then make the pottery easier to break," Lyon said. "Make the walls thinner, or pre-cut cracks inside. Even—you could attach barbed wire or sharp stones to the outside to increase its destructive power."
"Your Highness, this idea—has potential." Zahir stood up, looking at Lyon with admiration. "But the material of the torsion bundle is key. Ordinary hemp rope will loosen after a few uses; it's best to use a woman's long hair."
Accord had just taken a sip of his drink when he heard this, and he spat it all out: "Wh-what?!"
“I’m not joking, Father,” Zahir said seriously. “I’ve seen Greek merchants in Alexandria repairing old ballistae. They use treated women’s hair, mixed with animal tendons, soaked in fish glue, and then wrapped around it. It’s extremely tough and moisture-resistant. Of course, horsehair can also be used, but the effect is slightly less effective.”
Lyon nodded and noted it down: "The materials issue can be resolved. Zahir, if we build a prototype, what aspects do you think we should test?"
Zahir counted on his fingers: "First, range and accuracy. How far away can we throw a canister at a target as large as a swaying ship? Second, rate of fire. How long does it take from loading to firing? Opportunities in naval warfare are fleeting. Third, reliability. In damp, salt-corroded, and turbulent conditions, won't this machine fall apart or jam? Fourth—"
He looked at the earthenware jars: "It's about the timing of ignition; Greek fire needs to be lit. Should we light the fuse at the mouth of the jar before launching it? That might extinguish in the air or detonate prematurely. Or should we ignite it with the flying flames after the jar breaks? These all require careful consideration and design."
Zahir's questions hit the nail on the head, and Lyon felt a familiar sense of challenge, just like when he received military instruction at Baldwin's bedside a few days ago. The real world is always more complicated than theory.
"Let's take it one step at a time." He rolled up his sleeves. "We'll start by making a scaled-down model to test the torsion beam material and the projectile structure. Meanwhile, we'll have the blacksmiths begin trial production of the sealed iron box and transmission components for the broadside jets. Zahir, I need you to select a few reliable veteran sailors to participate in the testing; they know the realities at sea."
“My old buddies are very loyal and reliable,” Zahir nodded, “but the workshop must be kept strictly secret.”
"My guards will be stationed around the workshop, so it's foolproof," Leon decided. "Uncle, you need to get me a batch of strong hair, just say it's for monks to use as bindings for special scriptures."
"This job—I'd rather copy a prayer a hundred times," Jacob said with a bitter face. "This feeling is awful. You guys are having such a great conversation, but I can't understand a word you say!"
The Greek fire project needs time to move forward.
Accord was sent to collect women's hair, though he insisted on calling it a "sacred donation."
Zahir then took the blueprints to the blacksmith's quarters to oversee the casting of the sealed iron box.
The workshop is now quiet, with only Lyon and a few apprentices remaining.
"Your Highness, the blacksmith said the clay mold for the first iron box needs to dry in the shade for three days before casting," an apprentice reported timidly. "The Grand Master, it's said, has encountered a 'schedule problem with the pious women.'"
Leon rubbed his temples.
He should have realized that in this era without standardized parts and assembly lines, the production of any complex equipment is measured in weeks or even months.
Anxiety doesn't solve problems; it only wastes time.
His gaze inadvertently fell on a corner of the workshop, where several yellowish-white bars of Aleppo soap were piled up, which he had previously taken from the palace.
Next to the soap were some wooden barrels containing animal fat, lime, and wood ash used for shipbuilding.
Well, I'm just killing time anyway. Compared to the dangerous and complicated Greek fire, improving soap seems like a relatively safe project that can be done while waiting.
More importantly, if successful, it can bring immediate benefits, both financially and in terms of health.
"Go find a small iron pot," Lyon ordered his apprentice, "along with a clean wooden stick, a coarse cloth, and a few earthenware bowls."
Jacob returned on the afternoon of the third day, followed by two servants carrying large sacks.
His face bore the weariness of someone who had survived a disaster, and a few suspicious strands of dark brown hair clung to his beard.
"By Saint Peter—" Jacob slumped onto a pile of ropes, "I never want to deal with those monastery washerwomen again. They nearly smashed my head with their washing mallets until I assured them that this hair was for binding sacred scrolls that would bear the Word of God."
He looked up and saw Lyon standing in front of a small iron pot in the center of the workshop, stirring the bubbling mixture in the pot with a wooden stick.
Accord took a sniff; the smell was peculiar, like a mixture of oil, wood ash, and—vanilla?
"What are you cooking?" Accord sniffed. "It smells like a kitchen."
"In a sense, it is indeed a kitchen." Leon didn't turn around, focusing intently on the changes in the pot. "I'm trying to improve the soap."