The Leper King-Chapter 191 - Furnace Plans

The days after Baldwin’s revelation did not unfold in silence, nor with the serenity of miracles past. A secret work had begun, its echoes heard only among the closest and most trusted of his court, as if the walls themselves might betray the mysteries of what was to come.

Balian of Ibelin, Hugh of Tiberias, the Master of the Temple, and Baldwin’s royal smiths rode out in discreet companies into the countryside, searching for the land that would host the Furnace of Saint Michael. Baldwin himself, still flush with the vision of divine flame, insisted upon accompanying them on several of these forays, though carefully shielded from public view.

The criteria were not simple. They required:

Water — not only for quenching steel but to drive the waterwheels that would power the great bellows. Baldwin explained to them, in words that sounded half-mad to some and inspired to others, that the furnace would live only if air was forced into it ceaselessly.

Cement— for the walls of the furnace, the firebricks to line its belly, and the sealant that would keep molten metal from eating through.

Woodlands — for charcoal, the very food of the fire. The Lebanon cedars, the forests of Galilee, even wood floated down the Orontes from the north — all were surveyed and calculated.

Ore — the red earth of iron itself. There were deposits in the Judaean hills, and richer veins in the mountains near Antioch and Edessa, which had now come under Baldwin’s dominion after the great Syrian campaign.

One site near the Jordan seemed promising, with a mill-stream already in place. Another, outside Jerusalem near a Benedictine monastery, offered security and silence, though water was scarcer. Debate raged among the counselors — the smiths arguing for practicality, the lords for secrecy, the king for speed.

"Better to have it close," Baldwin urged in council, his pale hand pressing on the arm of his chair. "If this is God’s work, then His city should be the first to hear the thunder of Saint Michael’s forge."

The Patriarch himself, though deeply cautious, murmured assent. "Where Michael’s sword is drawn, there also should the Holy Sepulchre be defended."

And so they leaned toward Jerusalem, despite its limitations. The city of God would guard the furnace of God. 𝕗𝚛𝚎𝚎𝐰𝗲𝗯𝗻𝚘𝚟𝚎𝗹.𝕔𝐨𝕞

The work of supply was immense.

Cement was baked in kilns outside the city, its clay tempered with ash and lime.

Timber flowed down from Galilee in guarded convoys, disguised as ordinary shipments for palaces and churches. Only those sworn by oath to secrecy knew that every log was destined for the furnace’s belly.

Iron ore was the hardest matter. Local veins sufficed for testing, but Baldwin ordered discreet contracts with Armenian merchants to bring richer loads down through Antioch and across Cilicia. The King’s new treasury, fattened by Syrian tribute, was quietly opened for these purchases.

The lords grumbled in whispers — such expenses could have bought mercenary horsemen by the thousands. Yet Baldwin stood unmoved. "An army feeds once and is gone," he said in council. "A furnace feeds forever, and gives birth to weapons unending. Which shall serve the Cross more truly?"

While masons laid stone and smiths prepared their tools, Baldwin turned his mind to men.

"Cannons and muskets," he told Balian and the Master of the Temple, "are nothing if the men cannot use them. They must be trained before the weapons are born."

So a corps was formed — small, secret, chosen from among the most loyal footmen of the royal household and the sergeants of the Temple. Not more than a hundred at first, though Baldwin spoke of thousands in years to come.

Their training was strange to behold. They drilled in secluded courtyards at night, far from the gaze of ordinary soldiers. Instead of weapons, they bore oaken staves, thick and straight, weighted with iron at the end to mimic the heft of a handgonne.

Commands were devised, repeated, and memorized until they became second nature:

"Load powder!" — at which they bent, miming the pouring of black dust into an imaginary barrel.

"Set shot!" — as they rammed wooden plugs down their staves.

"Ignite!" — whereupon each man touched his stave with a length of smoldering cord, practicing the motion that one day would unleash fire and thunder.

"Volley!" — at which the line raised their staves as one, striking the air forward with the crack of wood against shields to mimic the terrifying sound of discharge.

At first the men laughed, thinking it a game. But Baldwin’s stern face, and the intensity with which the King himself watched their every motion, soon stilled mirth.

"These are not sticks," he told them one evening, his voice carrying across the courtyard. "They are the shadows of Saint Michael’s swords. One day soon, they will breathe fire. One day soon, they will make the mightiest emir tremble. Drill them until they are as natural to you as your own heartbeat."

The men bowed, chastened, and trained harder still.

The lords of Jerusalem, however, were not so easily satisfied. Every council was filled with questions, pressing, prodding, demanding.

"Majesty," spoke Raymond of Sidon, "how far can such a ’cannon’ truly hurl its stone? Our mangonels reach near three hundred paces already."

"Four hundred, in time," Baldwin answered. "And with greater force — enough to shatter walls that laugh at your stones."

"And these muskets," asked Hugh of Tiberias, skeptical, "can they pierce mail? Or are they but toys that belch smoke?"

"They will pierce," Baldwin said with quiet certainty. "Perhaps not always, not at first. But fear, my lords, is as sharp a weapon as iron. The sound alone will shake men’s hearts. And when iron balls fly through flesh, they will know that God’s fire walks with us."

Others pressed on the matter of danger.

"What if it bursts in the hand of the shooter?" asked a cautious bishop."Then he shall be honored as a martyr," Baldwin replied, his pale lips curling faintly. "And the next weapon will be stronger for it."

Some shook their heads. Others crossed themselves, uncertain whether this was holy zeal or perilous madness. But little by little, persuaded by Baldwin’s fire and the Patriarch’s reluctant blessing, they accepted.

By early winter, the secret corps of gunners could already perform their drills with precision:

Standing volley, crouching volley, staggered fire.

Movements to protect the powder from wind or rain.

Rotations to keep lines steady as one rank fired and another prepared.

They practiced not only in the courtyard but on the fields outside the city at dusk, the staves flashing in the sun like a forest of strange spears.

"March with the beat of the drum," Baldwin ordered, watching from horseback. "For the drum shall be the voice of Saint Michael’s thunder. With it, you shall strike as one body, one will, one fire."

The soldiers obeyed, stamping to the cadence until the sound rolled like distant thunder over the hills.

Yet secrecy was constant strain. Baldwin knew that if word spread too soon — of furnaces that could pour rivers of molten iron, of weapons that spat fire — then Saladin’s spies would swarm like flies.

So the work was hidden under the guise of expanding the royal forge for "new siege engines." Supplies were dispersed in multiple convoys to disguise their purpose. Even the Patriarch counseled that no proclamation be made until the first true weapon was ready.

"Let the enemies of Christ wake to thunder on the battlefield," he said.

Baldwin agreed. He knew too well the danger of revealing a sword before its time.

In the evenings, when councils and inspections were done, Baldwin returned to Constance. She alone knew the full truth of the vision. By candlelight, he showed her sketches of cannon barrels, muskets, and bellows, his thin fingers tracing the lines with feverish intensity.

"Will it truly work?" she asked one night, her brow furrowed."It must," Baldwin answered softly. "God Himself has placed this fire in our hands. If we do not wield it, then we are faithless stewards of His gift."

Constance laid a hand on his, steadying him. "Then let us wield it. And let no one doubt that it is heaven’s will."