In the south, Giuseppe unleashed hell.
He ordered his men to fire their muskets into the air and set empty barrels of pitch ablaze.To the bishop and the fanatics watching from the ridge, it looked like a glorious crusade.To Giuseppe, it was merely the opening act.
He watched the Spanish gunpowder charges explode harmlessly in the mud—great fountains of dirt and smoke that looked terrifying but struck no one.
"Look at that fury!" the bishop cried, clutching his cross. "It seems it was wise to pressure you. You can unleash a powerful assault after all—they are entering the city quickly."
Giuseppe wiped a smear of soot from his cheek and suppressed a smirk.
"Yes, Excellency. Thanks to your scolding, I may have evolved as a general."
With a polite smile, Giuseppe looked at the bishop with practiced seriousness and gratitude, though inwardly he mocked him.The surviving Spanish troops would make the conquest far more complicated—which was exactly what he wanted.
