"Well, come along. I want to introduce you to my liege lord, and I want you to explain your mills and the new cloth factory."
As we entered the castle, Sir Stefan was talking heatedly with his father. I couldn't hear them, but twice he pointed at me. As my American friends would have put it, the shit was about to hit the fan.
Duke Henryk the Bearded was one of the most remarkable men I had ever met. He was almost seventy years old, and his face was cracked and wrinkled like old timber, yet his back was straight and strong. His thick white hair brushed his shoulders, and his thick white beard was huge. It was wider than his chest and extended below his sword belt.
But more important than his appearance was his-I don't want to say aura, because that implies something mystical, and this was an immensely practical man-but a feeling of power was almost tangible about him, as if, had he decided to walk through a wall, the wall would have apologized and scrambled out of his way.
Even more impressive, though in a totally different way, was his son, who would eventually be called Henryk the Pious. Young Henryk was just over forty and approaching the height of his powers. He could read and write and did a lot of both-rare among the nobility. Whereas the father was a tough politician, the son was a prince, every centimeter of him. His bearing and his look and his tone of voice were a chant that said, "Duty, justice, order, and restraint; honor, vigor, and discipline."
We looked each other in the eye, and I knew that this was a man I would follow into hell, fully confident that he could lead me out again. I had found Poland's king and my own.
Henryk the Bearded looked at me and said, "So, you are Sir Conrad the Giant. I have heard much about you."
"I hope nothing too bad, my lord."
"Mixed. But all of it is impossible, so most of it is lies. Your loom works faster than anything the Walloons own. They brought nothing like your spinning wheels. Now, tell me about these mills you're building."
The mill tower was now up, the tank floors were in, and the circular shed was completed. Work was under way on the turret. With the five-story-tall structure and my two-meter models, I was able to explain what I was doing, yet their questions kept me hopping. Our two visitors might be statesmen and warriors by profession, but they were not stupid when it came to technical matters. They went over things point by point. almost as thoroughly as Vitold did.
After the mills, we started on the cloth factory. The looms and spinning wheels were already understood, and I referred them to Angelo the Florentine when they asked about the dyeing vats and the combing and carding equipment. They jumped on me when it came to the washing fine. After all, everybody understood washing.
"Why twelve tubs? Why not one big one?"
"A single big tub would have to be brass, with a fire under it. Using a dozen small tubs, only two tubs need to be heated. The rest can be of wood. Also, wool needs not only to be washed but to be rinsed several times. With a single tub, we would not only have to heat three tubs of water for each batch of wool, we would have to throw away a lot of cleanser with the rinse water."
"Explain that."
"We call this the reverse-flow system. The wool moves from north to south along the line of tubs. The water moves from south to north, overflowing from one tub to the next. The water comes in cold and clean and goes out cold and dirty. The wool comes in cold and dirty and goes out cold and clean."
I could see that I wasn't getting through.
"Let's follow some wool as it goes through the tubs. Dirty wool is dumped into the first wooden tub, and a worker stirs it with a wooden fork. The water is only warm, and it's dirty. Most of the cleanser has been consumed, but some dirt is easily removed. Excess water goes out this drain, and fresher water flows in through this pipe from the second tank."
"The wool is scooped up and into the second tub, and more raw wool is dumped into the first. In the second tub, the water is hotter and cleaner."
"This goes on until the sixth tub, which is made of brass. It is set in stone, and there is a fire beneath it. The water is very hot. Cleanser is added here."
"The seventh is the first rinse tub. The water is warm, and cleanser that is washed off the wool flows with the water into the sixth tub."
"Tubs eight, nine, and ten are additional, progressively hotter rinse tubs. The eleventh tub is also of brass and is heated boiling hot."
"The twelfth tub contains fresh, cold water. Its purpose is to cool the wool while warming the water before it flows into the boiling rinse tank."
"The washing line is followed by these draining and drying racks."
"Hmm. So the same water is used many times, and fuel is saved. Interesting."
The reverse flow is one of those beautifully simple things that were invented remarkably late. It was first applied to heat exchangers in the 1930s and was Albert Einstein's major contribution to engineering. Since then, it has been applied to hundreds of industrial processes.
"Sir Conrad, you keep saying cleanser. Aren't you using soap or wood ashes?"
"Soap is a boiled mixture of ashes and grease. The wool already has grease on it. It is what we are trying to remove. Raw ashes have a lot of solid particles that would make the wool dirty."
"Instead, we leach the ashes first. We put them in a barrel with a cloth bottom and run hot water through them. The water that drips out contains sodium hydroxide, lye, which is a stronger cleanser."
"So there is a worker at each tub?"
"Probably not, my lord. Working all day over the two boiling tubs would be arduous. We plan to have each worker follow a given batch of wool up the line."
This grilling went on for hours before Duke Henryk called for beer and I could slake my very dry throat. We were seated in the count's hall.
"Sir Conrad, as you have described the washing line, it seems to me that it can wash more wool than your wheels can spin."
"True, my lord. It will be free much of the time for other things. Washing clothes, for example."
"You have explained what you — are doing but not why you are doing it."
"Why make cloth, my lord? So that people can wear it!"
"No. I mean, you are a foreigner among us. What do you want? Is it money?"
"I have plenty of money, my lord. More than I want for myself. And I am not a foreigner. I know that my accent is strange to you. I grew up in… another place. But all of my ancestors were Poles, and I am a Pole, and this is my country."
"Indeed. I am told that you may not discuss your place of birth, and I will not press you. But why are you doing what you are doing?"
"Because Poland is divided and backward and weak! Because our people are cold and hungry and illiterate! They die like snowflakes touching a river."
"And because the Mongols-the Tartars-are coming! They want to kill all our people and turn our fields into grazing lands for their war-horses!"
"Calm yourself, Sir Conrad. It is good that you are concerned with the lot of our people. These mills, these looms of yours, they are good things. I will see that their use is encouraged. But as to the Tartars, why, Genghis Khan died five years ago, so why worry about them?"
"Genghis had sons, and his sons have sons. They will come."
"When?"
"In nine years. A little less than that."
"Hmm. You know their plans so far in advance?"
"They will come, my lord."
"If you believe that, then why are you wasting your time on these peaceful pursuits? Why are you not building weapons of war?"
"I will build weapons, my lord. But who will use them? In Poland now it takes a hundred peasants and workers to support a single fighting man, a knight. When the Mongols come, they will come with every man in their tribes under arms. By numbers alone they will overwhelm us. My machines will give all the people the time and the weapons to train for war. Poland can survive only with a citizen army!"
"You would arm commoners? That would upset the social stability."
"You are right, my lord.
But there is nothing as stable as a dead man. He just lies there and doesn't move at all."
"You are a strange man, Sir Conrad the Giant."
And so I was dismissed. As I walked away, I knew that I had blown it. I had gotten so wrapped up in technical details that I had forgotten what it was that I should have been trying to accomplish. I was like the engineer who became so involved in fighting alligators that he forgot that his job was to drain the swamp.
It didn't matter what the duke thought of my mills and factory. They were already being built, and he would not be likely to stop them, no matter what he thought.
The important thing I needed was his approval on a grant of land. Without my own land, everything I had done so far would be trivial.
And I had come across like a lunatic prophet of doom' I couldn't have done worse if I'd been carrying a sign proclaiming the end of the world.
I was in a black mood when I learned that the Krakowski brothers had arrived with a packtrain loaded with my brass mill fittings. City folk didn't pay much attention to most of the country holidays. When there was work to be had, they worked. The collars were so big that they had to be slung between two mules each, like sedan chairs.
I called Vitold, Ilya, and Angelo away from a sort of soccer game and introduced them to the Krakowski brothers. We discussed our mutual needs: the fittings for the dry mill, tubs for washing and dyeing, axles and bushings for wheelbarrows.
Fortunately, the Krakowski brothers understood my technical drawings, and I had a thick stack of parchment for them to take back.
It took Vitold a long time to grasp what a wheelbarrow was all about, but he agreed to make a gross as soon as the sawmill was done. They would help in getting in the harvest.
Then there were the clay crocks for Ilya's steelmaking. The brothers agreed to make them but insisted on understanding the cementation process. They already had the clay and the charcoal and the ovens. They were impressed by Ilya's axes and wanted to get into the cementation business themselves. I gave them my blessing.
They had the idea of casting brass into molded clay forms and a hint from me about stacking up small clay forms and casting many objects at once. They were already selling belt buckles and door hinges by the gross.
I called over Piotr Kulczynski and swore him to fealty before the group. It took a while to make the brothers understand that Piotr was not their boss-they could run their business as they saw fitbut they were expected to keep him informed on all financial transactions, and he would be reporting to me.
It was understood that Piotr was to live in my room at the inn and keep the inn's books as well. I gave him a letter to the innkeeper confirming this.
Finally, Thom Krakowski brought up a delicate subject. Despite the fact that they were working for me, I had agreed that they should get one-twelfth of the profits of their work. He therefore felt that I should buy the present fittings and the order I had just placed, just to get it on the books so that they could figure up their bonus. I would get much of this back as my profits for ownership.
I had to agree that this was fair but stipulated that they would be paid from the surplus from the inn. This was agreed on.
Their bill came to 19,500 pence.
It was growing dark, so I invited all present to a quick meal in the count's kitchen. We were halfway through the meal when Lambert came in.
"Sir Conrad! Where the devil have you been? There was a high place for you at supper that stood empty!"
"I'm sorry, my lord. I didn't know that I was invited. The brass mill fittings came in, and there was much to discuss."
"I saw the brass. I've never seen so much brass in one place in my life! You paid for all this?"
"Well, yes, my lord. When I left for Cieszyn, you were distracted with the planting, so I thought it best to take my own money along."
"But you agree that the mills are mine?"
"Of course, my lord."
"Then I owe you your expenses. What were they?"
"The present fittings, plus those for the dry mill, the tubs for the factory and the dye, the mules, and the Florentine came to… uh… about twenty-three thousand pence."
"Twenty-three… Come talk with me in my chambers, Sir Conrad."
When we got there, he said, "Twenty-three thousand pence is a huge amount of money, Sir Conrad."
"Yes, my lord."
"Hmm. You wouldn't wager on your chess playing. Would you wager on your mill? I would bet you that your wet mill doesn't work. Double or nothing. Do you agree?"
"If you wish, my lord. But I'm stealing your money. The mill will work."
"We shall see. For now, come to the hall. People want to meet you. I should mention that throughout supper Sir Stefan and his father, Baron Jaraslav, have been damning you to all and sundry for a warlock and a witch! I believe they've called you everything but a Christian."
"Sir Stefan? But why isn't he on guard duty?"
"One of his father's other knights is doing his stint so he can be there to blacken your name. I don't like my vassals acting this way. I know it's not your fault, except had you been there they wouldn't have been so blatant about it. What the duke thinks is anybody's guess."
As we entered, Lambert whispered, "Here we go. Keep your temper!"
As we walked into the hall, conversation was suddenly muted. People had been drinking and socializing after a feast. Now half of them were staring at me, and the rest were obviously trying not to.
Bluff it through! I thought, shouting to myself. You can do it, you can do it-I think I can, I think I can, I think I can… Head high, smiling, I swaggered in at Lambert's side, almost convincing myself that I wasn't. scared.
Sir Vladimir saved me. Cutting through the crowd, he said, "Sir Conrad, what's this I hear about your attacking six thugs from the whoremasters guild and killing the lot of them?"
"Just lies, Sir Vladimir. There were only three of them, and I believe two lived."
A knight I hadn't met said, "You were completely unarmed when you attacked?"
"Well, yes. You see, there wasn't much time. A friend was in trouble, and had I gone back for my sword, well, who could tell what would have happened?"
"A friend of the whoremasters guild? Was she pretty?" a third knight said.
"Hardly. It was a he. The innkeeper of the Pink Dragon, although his wife was also being abused."
"But how was it possible for one unarmed man to defeat three with knives?" the second knight persisted. An interested crowd was gathering. Except for Lambert's ladies, this was an all-male group. They were all professional fighters, so by their standards anybody talking about bloodshed and mayhem had to be all right. I was winning!
"It wasn't three at once," I said. "I was able to get them one at a time."
"But even one man is hard to believe."
"Okay. Hang up your cloak and I'll show you." As I've mentioned, I'm no black belt, but I did learn a few simple throws in the service. With the sheath on his knife, we went through a few judo throws in slow motion.
I didn't actually reenact my fight in the hall of the Pink Dragon. I wasn't sure how these knights would react to kneeing someone in the groin, and I wanted to play the good guy. The first time you find yourself lifted into the air in judo is a memorable event, and it looks impressive. Three or four of them lined up to try me. The others were watching and drinking. I was becoming socially acceptable.
"You see," I said to a fellow in blue who was lying at my feet. "Had I thrown you down hard, you would be momentarily stunned. I could do all sorts of things to you. I could stamp on your chest, for example."
"Try me," a voice said from behind me.
I turned to find myself facing Duke Henryk the. Bearded.
"My lord it… it doesn't seem fitting," I stammered. Good God. He was my boss's boss, and he looked to be seventy years old. Not your usual judo partner!
"Try me," he repeated, holding his knife high with his right hand.
"Yes, my lord." Taking it
slow and watching carefully to see that I didn't hurt him, I started through the same throw that I'd shown the others.
"Hold!" he said. I froze.
I felt a sharp prick at my ribs. Looking down, I saw that the duke held a dagger in his left hand. Where it had come from, I didn't know.
"What do you think now, Sir Conrad?"
"My lord, I think that had I met you in that dark hallway, I would be a dead man."
The room exploded in laughter, but it was laughter of a friendly sort. It was no dishonor to be bested by one's superior.
Contented, the duke sheathed his knives-one in his boot-and walked away.
The evening went well, I thought. Sir Stefan stayed to one comer of the room with his father and a half dozen knights. Sir Vladimir told me that they were the baron's liegemen. No hope of support there! I avoided them and circulated.
Conversation that evening centered mostly on hunting and hawking, so I didn't have much to contribute. Krystyana was a perfect hostess, and a lot of her newfound poise was rubbing off on the other girls, especially Janina, Natalia, Annastashia, and Yawalda. They were treated cordially, but they got a lot of side glances.
Later I found myself standing with Lambert and the duke.
"It's an interesting thought you've brought up, Sir Conrad," the duke said. "That it is possible for an unarmed man to defeat one who is armed."
"My lord, please understand that I am not a master of unarmed combat. I'm hardly an apprentice. I certainly believe that in a fight one is much better off armed. It is just that a warrior should remain a warrior even if he's naked."
"Interesting. You say you believe the obvious. Is there anyone who doesn't?"
"I've met one, my lord. He insisted that weaponry was unimportant compared to mental attitude and training. He was a master of the martial arts, a black belt from Japan."
"Ali, yes. It is said that you have traveled widely."
"Yes, my lord. Perhaps more widely than you can imagine. But I made a vow-"
"I know, son, and I won't push you. Still, a man must think. You, Lambert. Where do you think our Sir Conrad has come from?"
"My lord, I had not intended to speak on this, but since you ask, I must answer. Know that I have been watching this man carefully since Christmas. I have pondered long as to his origins, and I am confident that my guess is the right one."
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