"I looked at them, but dyes are so complicated, Sir Conrad. A pound of this one can do something, but an ounce of that one can do more and-"
Pounds? Ounces? I'd forgotten the metric conversions. "I understand. Any word about a dyer?"
"I heard of one, but they called him a 'walker' because he walks on the cloth being dyed. People said that they had heard of him, but nobody knew him."
"Well, then you know what to do tomorrow. Keep the serving woman with you from now on. I want you to look into the price of raw woolen cloth, the kind that you make on the loom. See if you can't find a merchant willing to buy, say, a thousand yards at slightly less than the present wholesale price, for delivery next spring." If I had to play the merchant, I thought that I might as well make some gain from it. My hands were already dirty.
"I'll try, Sir Conrad."
"And I know that you'll do a wonderful job. It grows late. What do you say? One more cup of wine and then to bed?"
The next few days were busy. Thom had located a copper merchant who wanted to sell out his entire -stock and move to a better-more profitable-place. We could buy copper at half price, along with some calamine, lead, and tin, if we bought his entire stock. I looked it over and paid an additional 3,250 pence. They found an out-of-work wood-carver. I looked at his work in a few churches and swore him in at five hundred pence a year. I told him that he was now a pattern maker.
Clay and wood were coming in slowly, so I told the brothers that they should hire twelve men temporarily and keep the best four on a permanent basis.
Krystyana found her walker, a Florentine who had come north to seek his fortune and had picked up a fair amount of Polish while starving in Cieszyn. He claimed to be a journeyman dyer, but on questioning him I discovered that he had never completed his apprenticeship. He had also been apprenticed as a wool sorter, a comber, a carder, and a warper. He had some experience with linen that he preferred not to discuss.
He was thirty years old and a perpetual misfit. Or maybe a diamond in the rough. I had mixed feelings about the man. "Okay, Angelo Muskarini. It is good that you have finally told me the truth. As my liege lord is about to enter the clothmaking business, it is possible that we can use you. Perhaps you know something that will help him. Look long and hard before you criticize my loom or spinning wheels! Aside from that, if you can improve the quality or quantity of his cloth, you will be very well rewarded. If you do not produce results, we shall trans port you back to your garret here at Cieszyn. Understood?" It was.
I swore him in for two years at one hundred pence per year, plus food and lodging. Then I put him up at my expense at the back of the inn for two pence per day. I advanced him three months' pay for beer and such just to see how he'd do. As it turned out, he saved most of it, barring a little he spent for clothes. Sometimes when a man has spent enough time between the hammer and the anvil, he turns into good steel.
Besides explaining to the Krakowski brothers about building patterns for molds, I had to explain about grinding wheels and lathes. It is not enough to cast a bushing. It has to be perfectly round, and that is not possible with casting alone.
The wood-carver, Ivor Korenkov, found himself instructing his new employers, and the days wound on.
Krystyana made the right commercial connection. She found a cloth merchant eager to deal. It was already arranged that he would buy some two thousand square yards-Cieszyn measure-of raw wool cloth for seveneighths of the current price, twenty-three pence per square yard. We swore the agreement before a notary, who produced three copies: one for each of us and one for himself. We left one thousand pence each with a Templar as surety, and the deal was closed.
Days later, I was still busy at the foundry, but Krystyana had nothing else to do. The story of her rebuffs at the castle had already spread, and she was embarrassed by it.
"Pretty girl, I have one more job for you. Take Angelo and the servant woman-whatever her name is-"
"Zelda."
"Zelda, then. The three of you should go and buy one thousand pence worth of dye or whatever Angelo needs. Then I want you and Angelo to go back toward Okoitz."
"But just he and I alone?"
"I'll be with you as far as Sir Miesko's manor, and that's as far as you're going. We can send Angelo alone to Okoitz."
"Why send him alone, Sir Conrad?"
"Because I'm not sure if I trust him. If I've hired a thief, I'd rather find out sooner than later."
"Why trust him at all? I mean, why take a chance with thousands of pence worth of dye and mules?"
"I have to be able to trust him because he knows things that I don't. He could pull the wool over my eyes, and I wouldn't know it."
"Pull the wool..." She couldn't sort that one out. "Then why are we going to Sir Miesko's?"
"Because I want you to stay with Richeza for a few weeks. Remember what I said about her being a truly fine woman? Remember her grace and charm and the way everyone feels comfortable around her? Now, compare her with those 'ladies' at Cieszyn Castle and ask yourself what you want to be like when you grow up." She thought a bit and was suddenly in tears. Her arms went around my neck. "It's okay, pretty girl."
Two days later, we set out at dawn. I was fully armed and on Anna, of course. Krystyana. was sidesaddle on her palfrey. Angelo followed on a mule, leading a second mule loaded with roots, bark, herbs, and sea shells.
We arrived at noon. Richeza was charming as always, and if she was offended by my intention to leave in a few hours, she didn't show it. Gossip about our adventures at Cieszyn Castle had already reached her, and she had the insight to invite Krystyana to stay with her before I had a chance to broach the subject.
Still, courtesy forbade my immediate departure, and it was midafternoon before I was on the road again for Cieszyn. "Well, Anna, do you think we can make it before dark?"
Anna nodded her head. She'd always had the disconcerting habit of nodding or shaking her head to questions, as if she actually understood what was said. She probably picked up some clue from my body language, like the famous Clever Hans, but it was still interesting to talk to her.
"Then let's see how fast you can go, but don't strain yourself."
She took off at a full gallop and kept it up for the better part of an hour. Finally, I starting worrying; a good horse will run itself to death if you ask it. I reined her back to a walk. "Easy, girt! You'll hurt yourself."
She shook her head no, took the bit in her teeth, and galloped the rest of the way back to Cieszyn. I dismounted at the city gates to check Anna over. She wasn't even sweating! An amazing horse.
A week later, I got word that Angelo Muskarini had arrived safely at Okoitz: with his charge. I was vindicated.
More remained to be done at the brass foundry than I had thought. This business of working in a pit and baking the molds with an open fire was obviously inefficient and wasteful of fuel. We built an oven of clay bricks for drying and baking the clay molds. Eventually we were to build five more.
The lathe had to be huge, and it needed bearings that had to be built before the bushings could be turned. We had to build a small lathe in order to build a big one. The big lathe was too large to be handpowered, so we built a big barrel cage at the headstock. A man got in this cage and climbed continuously uphill, turning the cage and the part on the lathe.
I was enjoying myself, but it was five weeks before I felt confident enough of the Krakowski brothers to return .to Okoitz.
During that time, though I had done the right thing by sending Krystyana to Richeza's "finishing school," I began to suffer for it. When one has had a continuous supply of sex, abstention becomes difficult. I soon discovered that my knightly right to the use of young women did not apply within city limits, and one more visit to Cieszyn Castle convinced me that I wanted nothing there.
Look. I was quite willing to tolerate honest ignorance. Most of the people I had met in the thirteenth century had been brutally poor; they'd had no chance to improve themselves. But those women of the castle had absolutely nothing to do and expended an incredible amount of effort in doing it. They were wrapped up in stupid mind games, courts of love, and "he said that she said that they said..." nonsense. They placed an absurdly high value on the virginity of unmarried women and none at all on the chastity of those who were married.
In short, they offended my moral code and were. not worth the bother.
There were prostitutes in town, and I tried one. She spend the first half of the evening wheedling me for more money and the second half on the streets after I threw her out.
Mostly, in the evenings I drank a lot. The innkeeper, Tadeusz Wrolawski, became my regular drinking partner. The Krakowski brothers were fine people, you understand, but it is not a good idea to socialize too much with one's subordinates. The role change from drinking buddy to willing worker becomes difficult if one must do it too often. Also, they had their wives to keep content.
"Socialism, Tadeusz!" I explained drunkenly. "This country and this century are in horrible shape because of the lack of socialism!"
"You are absolutely right, Sir Conrad! What is socialism?"
"I am glad that you agree with me, my good friend Tadeusz. All of this business of no work in Cieszyn and too much work in Okoitz and not enough to eat and no sewers and little babies dying can all be cured with a little technology and some organization."
"This sounds marvelous! What is a sewer?"
"All we have to do is to get things organized and apply a little appropriate technology. We have everything else. We have the manpower, and we have the materials. Give us nine years and we'll have things running right and beat the Mongols, besides. Have her bring us some more wine."
"Outstanding! What is a Mongol?"
"Eh? Mongols are little greasy yellow bastards that are going to ride in out of the east and try to kill everybody. They won't do it, though, if we get organized. Blow hell out of them with cannons. Brass cannons, maybe."