The Crosstime Engineer aocs-1

by Leo Frankowski

  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."

  "These Mongols are like Tartars?"

  "Same bastards. Change their name a lot."

  "I have heard some horrible tales from traders from the east. They speak of whole cities put to the sword! Every man, every child, every animal! Not even the women spared for ravishing!"

  "Yeah. Those are the bastards. But it's not going to happen here. We'll stop them. It's just a matter of organization. Caring about people. Technology. Socialism."

  "You say 'technology.' What is this technology?"

  "Why, technology is what I have going at the brass works across the street. New lathes, new ovens, better production processes."

  "They certainly are prosperous, Sir Conrad! A month ago they were nothing but three starving men and their families with nothing to do. Now they work from dawn to dusk. Their wives have bought pigs and chickens and new clothes. They have hired a dozen new men!"

  "See? Technology triumphant and socialism in action! Another mug of wine?"

  "And this technology, it can be applied anywhere? Say, to an inn?"

  "Well, of a sort. Technology is mostly sensible thinking about the problems you face. Now, your inn here. You've got a good building. Your rooms are clean. Your food is good, and you make good beer. All you seem to lack are the customers."

  "What you say, at least the last part, is true."

  "Okay. We agree that the physical plant is adequate. Now, what is the purpose of an inn?"

  "Why, to provide food and drink and-"

  "Wrong. Your customers could buy wine from a wine seller much cheaper than you sell it. You must buy from the same wine seller and pay your overhead besides. The same goes for food. The markets must be cheaper."

  "But for travelers-"

  "Transient business is fine, but you are not on a main street. Local business is more important. You must serve the people. There are what? A thousand men of drinking age in town. Maybe another thousand in nearby villages. If you could get a tenth of them to come here regularly, your success would be assured. Once the town's people came here regularly, the travelers would come, too."

  "Yes, yes! But how do we do that?"

  "Let me think." I didn't know much about managing taverns, but I had been in a great number of them in Poland and America. Some were bad and empty. Some were good and empty. Some were crowded whether they were good or bad. The biggest single factor seemed to be that people went to a given place because people were already there. Getting the first ones there was a matter of advertisingwhich was impossible in a world without newspapers or radios-and providing something interesting. Something different. I thought of the two or three best places I had found in Massachusetts. A combination of those.

  A controls designer lives in a four-dimensional world. When things finally come to me, they come as a working, moving, solid whole. Only later do I string them out in serial fashion.

  A vision crystallized in my sodden mind.

  "Tadeusz, I know how to do it. You know my arrangement with the Krakowski brothers? Would you like to be socialized as well?"

  "That I should be paid thousands of pence and a regular salary besides? Oh, yes my lord!"

  "OK. Same deal, but I think your building is worth more than theirs. Say, 3,000p.?"

  "Agreed, my lord!"

  "Six hundred pence for yourself, yearly, and a twelfth of the surplus, with two hundred pence to your wife?"

  "With honor, my lord!"

  "Good. We'll swear you in right now."

  "But the sun is not up."

  "True… But there is a full moon and that is more appropriate for an innkeeper. Agreed?"

  So, under the moon, with a sleepy chamber maid and the night guard as witnesses, I swore in Tadeusz and his wife. I picked up another pot of wine and we went back to the table. The first order of business was to settle up my present bill, which I did. Then I gave Tadeusz 3,400p.

  "Our first rule is that since I own the place, I shall lodge here free. Keep one room open for my own use."

  "The second change is the name of the inn. 'The Battle Axe' is entirely too stern. People go to inns because they need to enjoy themselves. We need a light, amusing name. We'll call it the 'Pink Dragon'. I have a wood carver across the street; he'll make a new sign."

  "Then, this room is too empty and cavernous. People like crowds. I want some curtains to divide the room in half, another set to divide the front half in half, and a third set so that only the front eighth is exposed. You are to open a set of curtains only when the space before it is so crowded that people are bumping into each other. Understood?"

  "Yes, my lord."

  "All your present people are to be retained. No firing except for dishonesty."

  "Ali. There is the matter of certain salaries being in arrears."

  "None of that under socialism. They must be paid. Figure up the amount tomorrow. Oh, yes. We'll need an accounting system. I'll send somebody to keep the books for here and the foundry. You'll think it's a nuisance, but I insist on it. What else? Your pricing! This business of having to haggle over everything has to go. We'll have to work out a reasonable set of prices for everything. Then we post those prices, and they are the same for everybody. No exceptions."

  "But what if one is conspicuously wealthy and-"

  "No exceptions, not up or down. Then, entertainment. From supper until late, I want some music in here. A single musician at a time will do, and hire them for only a week at a time. See what people like. And waitresses; we'll need half a dozen of them.
They must be well paid, since we want the best. Say, four pence a week with another eight pence set aside for their dowries. We'll have a turnover problem. We want the six best-looking maidens available. They must be pretty."

  "What! You would turn my inn into a brothel?"

  "To the contrary. They must all be virgins and stay that way. See to it yourself."

  "My wife would object."

  "Then have your wife see to it. Part of her job will be to see to their morality. They must live here at the inn, in some of your back rooms. Customers may look but not touch. See that they are properly barricaded."

  "Look?"

  "Yes. They'll need some special costumes." With a fingertip and wine, I sketched out what I had in mind on the worn wooden table. "We'll have to get the woodcarver and a leather worker to do the highheeled shoes. I can show somebody local how to do the stockings, but later they can come from Okoitz."

  "You want them dressed as rabbits?"

  "The people will like it. Then there is the matter of advertising. It seems that I have considerable notoriety in Cieszyn, or at least my name does. I've been busy at the brass works, and I haven't met very many people here. But in a week or two, once we get this set up, I want you to hire some old women. They are to wander around and tell about how Sir Conrad Stargard, the killer of the Black Eagle, left the ladies of the castle to move into a notorious inn where beautiful women are scantily clothed. That should get some action going."

  "It will get good Christians at my door with pikes and torches!"

  "Good. Let them in. Sell them some beer. If they are really organized, let the leaders verify the virginity of the waitresses. No problem."

  "Uh… all this is going to cost money, my lord."

  "Right. Here is two thousand pence to cover it. Keep a careful reckoning. Well, it grows late. I bid you good night." I took the half pot of wine to my room. The full moon was halfway to setting. God, it was late.

  The next day I overslept dinner and caught a late, cold breakfast in the kitchen. My head hurt, and I had these horrible thoughts about what I had done.

  People were cold, people were hungry, the Mongols were coming, and I was wasting valuable resources starting a thirteenth-century bunny club. Oh God, my head hurt.

  Thinking drunkenly with my gonads instead of my frontal lobes, I had screwed up again. I tried to leave the inn quietly, hoping to avoid the innkeeper, but no such luck.

  "Sir Conrad! At last you are up; I was growing worried! I have followed your orders; already the word is out that I search for the six most beautiful maidens in Cieszyn! I have explained our need to the wood-carver, and he will be available tomorrow. But he wishes, of course, to discuss the matter with you."

  "Uh… Yes… I'll talk with him. You realize that for various reasonsour advertising and my relationship with my liege lord-it would be best if my name is not connected with all of this."

  "But we must say, in rumors, that you stay here, my lord." Tadeusz really liked having a lord protector.

  "Of course. But don't tell anyone that I have any ownership in the place. Swear the witnesses to secrecy."

  "As you wish, my lord."

  "Hey, the rumor campaign won't work if they know that I own the Pink Dragon."

  "As you wish. I have talked with a seamstress. She will have no difficulties with most of the costumes-think; it will be like a continual carnival! — but she wants help with the stockings."

  I didn't accomplish much at the foundry that afternoon, and when I got back for supper, the inn was packed. Word had gotten out that the most beautiful maidens in the city would be there. Fully a hundred young males showed up to see what was happening, along with some thirty young hopefuls. I was embarrassed, and the innkeeper expected me to do the choosing.

  Stalling for time, I said, "Are you sure that all of them are virgins? Have your wife check it." I ate a meal and drank a pot of wine at the small table that had been reserved for me. I had in mind that his wife should simply ask them, but she felt obligated to actually check for an intact hymen. She passed fourteen of them. How many left because they were embarrassed, I don't know. Apparently, room and board was good wages for a maid. Twelve pence a week on top of that was fabulous.

  "And now will you choose the six, my lord?"

  Well, one of them was attractive, up to Krystyana's standards. The rest of them were hopeless ducklings, and I felt sorry for them. "No. Let the crowd choose one of them. You talk to them. Have them choose the best five, then the best two, and then a final vote." It seemed the fairest way, and it didn't get me involved.

  "But only one?"

  "Just do it all again for five more days. Remember what I said about entertainment? Well, this is entertainment."

  They took in four hundred pence that night, and afterwards the crowds got bigger.

  A week later, as I ate dinner, I got a visit from a local priest, a Father Thomas. I offered him wine, but he refused and immediately got down to business.

  "I am worried about your actions, my son, and about your soul."

  "But why, Father?"

  "You have been responsible for the hiring of young women-virtuous, Christian women from good families-and parading them half naked in a brothel."

  "A brothel? By no means, Father! They are waitresses at a good inn, which is the farthest thing from a brothel. They live most virtuous lives, on threat of dismissal! There is no convent that protects its nuns better than we protect our waitresses."

  "Aside from the morality of it-and both the innkeeper and I are moral men-aside from it, I say, running a common stews would be bad for business. There are a lot of them in your parish, and they aren't very profitable."

  "That others sin is well known. They are not the subject of this conversation."

  "But why don't you try to do something about the real fleshpots? Why come to an honest inn?"

  "The fleshpots, as you appropriately call them, are sanctioned by their own guild and to a certain extent by the law, if not by the Church. What you are doing is new and is best nipped in the bud."

  "Father, we do nothing more than serve food and drink. The waitresses are pretty, but that's the way God made them, and 1, for one, appreciate His good work. We do offer lodging, but we do not offer bed partners."

  "You dress them in a manner that encourages lechery."

  "We dress them in an attractive manner that fully covers their breasts and privy members. Any man wanting to see more may simply go to the public baths, Father."

  "The baths have their own guilds and sanctions. The Church will close them down in time. You evade my charge Of lechery."

  "Father, it is normal for men to appreciate the beauty of women. If looking at pretty girls is a sin, then every normal male in Poland is doomed to hell!"

  "Please go and inspect the waitresses' rooms. Talk to the girls. Prove to yourself that we are moral."

  "I fully intend to make such an inspection," he said, and left.

  I was just finishing my meal, washing down my cheese with beer, when the priest returned.

  "Sir Conrad, I admit that the situation is much as you described it. If anything, the girls complain of the restrictions placed on them."

  "The price of morality, Father." I made a mental note to see just how serious their complaints were. "While you are here, there is another matter that I would like to discuss. One of our waitresses has become fond of a local boy. I have talked with him. His intentions are honorable and his character good. Since she is employed by the inn, it seems fitting that the inn should pay her wedding expenses. Would it be possible for you to perform the ceremony?"

  "Why, I suppose that this is quite possible. In fact, I would be delighted."

  "Wonderful! I expect that most of our waitresses will soon be married. Virtuous and attractive young ladies don't stay single for long. Perhaps we should discuss group rates." In the next hour, I made an ally of Father Thomas.

  As he left, I said, "Father, how did you know that I owned the inn
?"

  "The Church has its own sources of information, my son."

  It was early afternoon, and only one waitress was on duty. Troubled about the waitresses' complaints to the priest, I went back to the girls' dorm, what had been "the ducal suite," even though the duke never slept there. Actually, almost- no one had ever slept there since it was priced beyond the means of the usual guest. It made sense to convert it. If it was more magnificent than necessary, well, young girls like that sort of nonsense.

  I had arranged inexpensive group rates at a local bathhouse-early afternoons only-for the inn's staff, at the inn's expense. Our people were encouraged to take a daily bath, and the waitresses were required to.

  When I called on the girls, the five of them were in various stages of undress, with a preponderance of full nudity. They let me in without bothering to dress. Perhaps their status as untouchables, along with their recent adolescent discovery that men noticed them and that they liked it, was the cause of this display.

  I didn't like it. On the one hand, I could hardly break my own rules with regard to their virginity, and, well, a really decent man simply doesn't take a virgin in a casual way. I think that half the world's frigid women are the results of a klutzy male on their first night. Properly done, it takes patience and warmth and a great deal of love. Back in the twentieth century, I'd had two virgins. They'd both left me as wonderful lovers. I was rather proud of my workmanship.

  But just then I was horny as hell. I had been three weeks without, and the last thing I needed was five pairs of budding nipples staring at me.

  "Put some clothes on, damn it! You'd think we were running a brothel here!" I shouted.

  They scurried to cover themselves with towels and blankets. "We were just back from the baths," one of them said. "We were hot."

  "Yeah, sure. Fourteen years old and hotter than hell. Now, what are these complaints you've been making about your jobs?"

  "Complaints, Sir Conrad? We have no complaints. The pay is wonderful, and the work, I mean, it's like being at a party," the short redhead said.

  "Then why were you complaining to the priest who was here today?"