The Crosstime Engineer aocs-1

by Leo Frankowski

  They talked to me about bell casting. They used the lost wax method. This is not an ancient "lost" technology, even though I once met a twentieth-century museum tour guide who seemed to think so; it's still being used when intricate, one-of-a-kind castings are needed. To make a bell, the brothers Krakowski first dug a pit. In the pit, they fashioned by hand, from clay, a male form shaped like the inside of the bell. They then took beeswax and made a wax bell over the form, carving in wax all the exterior decorations and, being somewhat literate, the lettering. Clay was carefully molded over the wax, and the whole was left to dry for a week. Then they built a fire in the pit, small at first but growing.

  In a few days the wax melted, ran out of prepared holes, and burned. A few days later, the mold was hot enough for the pour. Having carefully measured the amount of wax used, the casters knew exactly how much brass to melt. After the pour, they broke off the clay and spent a few months "tuning" the bell by chipping brass out of the inside to get it to sound right.

  "That's the trick, Sir Conrad," the youngest brother said. "The mold has got to be as hot as the brass or she'll crack, or the bell will crack."

  The other brothers looked at him as if he were divulging guild secrets, and maybe he was.

  "I'm familiar with the process," I lied. It was now past noon, and they had not offered me dinner. I thought about that-they looked more underfed than Lent alone would account for. "This is interesting," I said. "But I grow hungry. I would like to invite you and your families to dinner. I'm staying at the Battle Axe. Could you send someone to tell the innkeeper how many are coming? Have him let us know when it's ready."

  They eagerly accepted my offer, and soon we were at a sitdown dinner for fourteen. There were no babies; all three had died in the winter.

  As it was Lent, the meal was meatless: bread and oatmeal, pease porridge, and small beer. Even the children drank beer. Water was unhealthy, and cows would not start producing milk for another month. My guests ate a great deal under the watchful gaze of the innkeeper, who was hovering at the back of the room to make sure everything went right. We were his biggest sale in months.

  These men had skills that I needed, and they certainly needed me. They needed socialism, and I was going to socialize themwithin the framework of their own society, of course. I'm not the banner-waving, gun-wielding revolutionary sort.

  "Excuse me, sir knight," the oldest Krakowski brother finally said. "But are you the Sir Conrad Stargard? The man who killed Sir Rheinburg?"

  That business again? "Yes."

  "Then we owe you gratitude. That German murdered our cousin Yashu. Killed him on the road when he was weaponless and penniless."

  "I'm sorry about your cousin. The German was a madman, but he's dead now."

  "Still, we owe you."

  "You don't owe me anything. All I did was to stop myself from joining your cousin."

  The innkeeper intruded. "Excuse me, Sir Conrad, you realize that serving fourteen is more than we agreed on."

  "Of course. Put the difference on my bill."

  "Yes, sir. That would be twelve pence."

  Small talk at the table stopped. A penny for each meatless meal!

  "Innkeeper, that seems excessive. I do not like to haggle, but if I decide that you are cheating me, you will lose my business.".1 said this quietly and calmly but without smiling.

  "Yes, Sir Conrad." Beads of sweat suddenly dotted the man's forehead. When I eventually settled the bill, four pence accounted for that meal.

  Later that day, I got their price for my bushings. It came to thirty-one hundred pence. Each.

  "That seems excessive," I said. "Let's go over your expenses, and mind you, I intend to check these prices myself in the market."

  The copper would cost eight hundred pence, and calamine, a compound of zinc, was three hundred and fifty pence. We had agreed, from samples that they had on hand, on a hard brass of about thirty percent zinc. The clay they dug up themselves, and they chopped their own wood by arrangement with a landowner. With transportation costs, those two items came to a hundred and fifty pence. The eye opener was the wax. It was a rare commodity, like the honey that came with it. The wax would cost eleven hundred pence, almost as much as the metal. The remaining five hundred pence for their labor and equipment did not seem excessive. Still…

  Still, there was no reason why the molds themselves could not be cast off wooden forms. Both bushings could be made the same so that only one set of forms would be needed. Also, I would need four bushings for the upcoming "dry mill" that would grind grain.

  In addition, I had hoped that more mills would be wanted by other landowners. We might need a lot of bushings. A lot of parts that I had planned to make of wood could be made better-much better-in brass: some of the gearing and the pump cylinders and pulleys. I wanted some fire-heated tubs for a laundry and Parts for a threshing machine, and, well, all sorts of things.

  "Gentlemen." They looked up in surprise at my use of the term. "Your prices seem fair for what you propose to do, but it happens that I know some less-expensive techniques. Not for bells, you understand, but for the kind of things I have in mind." As it turned out, in two years they were selling bells again. You had to choose from three standard sizes and had no choice of inscriptions, but they were half the cost of the Cracow bells.

  "Now, then," I continued. "It is obvious that you are suffering under a burden of debt. It is also obvious that you have no security at all and that your families are hungry. I propose to purchase your establishment and pay you all a decent salary. I also intend to pay for a number of improvements around here. What do you think?"

  "Well, that sounds fine, but there are guild rules…" said Thom, the eldest.

  "What? I thought you were the only bell casters in Cieszyn."

  "Well, we are."

  "Then who is the guild master?"

  "I am, actually."

  "And these are your guild members?"

  "Uh… yes."

  "Then to hell with your damned guild! You are three brothers, and I am talking about hiring you."

  "Can't the guild vote to disband?" the youngest, Wladyslaw, asked.

  "But there's nothing in the rules-"

  "And to hell with your rules! 1, Sir Conrad Stargard, by the power granted to me by my sword, do hereby proclaim your guild null and void. Questions?"

  Thom checked with his brothers. "No, I guess not."

  "So. I'm not sure of local property values, but for your house and furnace and lands, does two thousand pence sound fair?"

  I got enthusiastic nods from the younger two. The eldest said, "We also have certain rights and privileges to clay and wood, and two thousand pence would not quite cover our debts."

  "Let's make it twenty-five hundred, then," I said. "I would not want my vassals to be suffering from debt."

  "Vassals? You would take an oath?"

  "Of course, and I would expect you to, also. All of you and your wives, besides."

  "Our wives?"

  "An oath of honesty and fair work. Your wives help you, don't they?"

  "Yes, but-"

  "I do not touch other men's wives. Now, what would you say to six hundred pence per year each, with two hundred pence to each of your wives? When your children are old enough to help, we'll discuss it. Agreed?"

  The eldest looked about. "I suppose so."

  "Good. I will pay half of your first year's salary in advance, since it appears that you need some things around here. You need some clothes, but don't buy a lot. The price of common cloth is about to drop."

  "How can you know?"

  "Let's say that I can smell it. In addition, since I want you to apply yourselves diligently to this enterprise, once all expenses, improvements, materials, taxes, salaries, and so forth are paid, you will divide among yourselves one-twelfth of the surplus."

  "Profit" is not a nice word for a socialist.

  Their mute agreement had turned to enthusiasm.

  "Good. Now go discuss the
matter with your wives. Come to me while the sun is still high, for I want your oaths. I shall be at the inn."

  I was only halfway through my first beer when the six of them showed up, smiling.

  "Innkeeper, I want your whole staff in the courtyard. There are oaths to be taken!"

  So we had a deal, and it was in this manner that 1–1 can't say nationalized, since I'm not a nation, but, socialized the Bros. Krakowski Brass Works. In doing so, I was acting again, playing the role of the shrewd merchant and dirtying my good socialist soul in the process. The thing needed doing, and much of being a man is doing the things that must be done no matter how unnatural or painful they are. Surely this was a small evil compared with the naked corpses I had left in a snowy wood.

  I bought the beer, called for an honest scale, and weighed out the money I owed. When I had left Okoitz, Count Lambert had been distracted with the planting and hadn't mentioned money, so I had brought along twenty thousand pence of my own. I wasn't worried; the count was honest. You see, you must either trust a person or not trust him. It is stupid to rely on oaths or marks on a piece of parchment because a thief will rob you no matter what is written down, and an honest man stays honestwithin reason.

  I weighed out thirty-seven hundred pence in goldthe exchange rate of silver to gold being 54 to 1-which I gave to Thom. Then I weighed out another four thousand and told him that I wanted him to buy copper and calamine at the best possible prices. We needed a woodcarver, and I told him to find one. The other two brothers were ordered to go out and bring in vast amounts of firewood and clay and start making charcoal.

  There was some consternation, and then it was agreed that the innkeeper would safeguard the gold until morning, since he kept an armed guard at night.

  Chapter Eighteen

  The party was breaking up as Krystyana returned. She was excited about her day's shopping in the big city. As supper was served, she prattled on and on about pins and churches and ribbons and merchants and the outlandish price of dinner. I was in a good mood and said little. I heard every detail of every bargain, and sometimes feminine babble makes a pleasant background noise to relax in. Eventually she wound down.

  "That's wonderful, pretty girl. Did you buy anything for yourself?"

  "Well, no. I mean, you said…"

  "Then here's fifty pence to spend tomorrow on things that you want." This was greeted by squeals. "Did you have any luck with dyes or a dyer?"

  "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 a
lready 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.