Conrad Starguard-The Radiant Warrior

by Leo Frankowski

  "That much is obvious."

  "Okay. Now ordinarily the gas phase is much larger than the liquid phase. A given amount of material takes up much more room."

  "I'll take that on faith."

  "You don't have to take it on faith. You have observed it! You've watched a pot boiling. Look there, where the girls are cooking. Steam is going out of the pot, overflowing it. Further, that steam was once water, as is proved by the way the water level in the pot gets lower as more steam goes out."

  "I said I believe you!" I sat bolt upright.

  "You said you had faith! What I tell you about science should never be taken on faith! Each and every step should be proved by direct observation. I am trying to teach you how to understand and manipulate the physical universe. I am not trying to teach you a religion! That's not my job!"

  "I'm sorry, Sir Conrad. Please continue." He has such a temper! I think he doesn't drink enough wine.

  "No, I owe the apology, Sir Vladimir, and in fact there is a certain religious aspect to science. You see, God made all beings, all things, the whole of existence. He is the Grand Planner, the Master Designer, the Chief Engineer. When we study the world around us, we are studying His works, His thoughts. It's almost blasphemy to ignore that and have faith in the words of a mere man."

  I lay back down. "Now, that is a remarkable thought! That it were possible to study the mind of God by observing His works—in the same manner that I have studied your mind by observing your mills and looms. Incredible! . . . I think that it will take me a long time to absorb it."

  We were silent for a while and then our ladies called us to dinner. They were still walking stiffly and were not at all cheerful.

  "Why such downcast faces?" I asked.

  "My love, it is not my face which is troubling me," Annastashia replied.

  "Well, cheer up! We shall be at Sir Miesko's in four more hours."

  "Four more hours!" came five simultaneous feminine cries.

  "Well, I'm sorry," I said. "But there's nothing for it. The fault is all in those sidesaddles you persist in using. With the possible exception of teats on a stallion, they are the stupidest things imaginable. There is nothing to keep the rider in place but the horse's good intentions, an untrustworthy thing at best. Look at that rig! The rider must sling her right knee over a knob designed to numb her leg, put her left foot into an inadequate stirrup and then put her right toe under the back of her left knee to obliterate sensation in that member as well. Its sole purpose seems to be to permit a woman to ride while wearing a dress and destroying her body."

  "Well . . . what are we supposed to do about it?"

  "Don't ask me, my love. I am taxed to my abilities being a fighter and a lover. Sir Conrad is our master of technical devices."

  Five pairs of eyes turned on Conrad.

  "It's obvious. Put on pants and ride on a man's saddle."

  "That's scandalous!" Krystyana said. "The very thought that a lady would be seen in a man's clothing . . ."

  "Then there's the key word, pretty girl, 'seen.' Make an outfit that looks like a woman's dress but functions like a man's pants."

  "Uh . . . I don't follow you."

  "Take one of your dresses. Slit it hem to crotch in front and behind. Sew in a fold of cloth between them. If you're careful about it, you can make it look acceptable but still be able to fork a horse."

  The girls looked at each other anxiously and then grew a communal grin.

  Suddenly, Krystyana said, "But how would you get into it?"

  "Well . . . you could make it in two pieces, top and bottom, blouse and skirt; or you could slit it down the front and button it up like one of my shirts."

  The grins returned.

  "But that's not going to get us to Sir Miesko's. You girls clean and pack the gear while we saddle the horses."

  The sun was still high when we arrived. Sir Miesko was out inspecting his fences, but Lady Richeza greeted us well. She is easily the most courteous and gracious woman in Christendom. She was common-born, like my Annastashia, and seeing her well-run household gave me visions of my own domestic bliss. But Sir Miesko was base-born as well, and knighted on the battlefield for valor. He was not faced with a heroic father and twenty generations of nobility.

  Sir Conrad was talking intently with Lady Richeza.

  "Yes, Sir Conrad, Gretch arrived safely and the girl's a wonder! This new mathematics of yours is a fascinating thing. I have no doubt that we'll have a dozen good instructresses by Christmas."

  "And how about the schools?"

  "It goes well. Eight villages are fully committed, and by winter I think that the problem will be the lack of educated teachers."

  "A dozen the first year is better than we had hoped. Textbooks?"

  "We've made a start, buying supplies out of Cieszyn. But at the rate it's going, we won't have four dozen sets in time."

  "That's skinny. Haven't you heard from Father Ignacy?"

  "Not yet. But there was a delay in finding a merchant going to Cracow."

  "Well, if you don't hear from him in a few weeks, inquire about professional copyists in Cieszyn."

  "But that's expensive, Sir Conrad, and we're already close to your budget."

  "Well, going over budget is not as bad as blowing the whole project. We need the books."

  "Excuse me, Sir Conrad," I interrupted. "What is all this about?"

  "Lady Richeza and I are organizing a school system. We'll have a dozen schools going next winter, from Christmas to spring planting."

  "Schools? To teach what? To whom? By whom?"

  "Schools! Reading, writing, and arithmetic, for starters. For Lambert's people. By Lady Richeza's gallant ladies."

  "For the peasants! With some peasant women teaching them?"

  "Sir Vladimir. May I point out that you show all the signs of being in love with a lowly peasant? That you are under the roof of a man who was born among these unfortunate people? And, while I am at it, that in the long run, the truly important thing is that women bear children and raise them properly—which includes education—and that the best that we males can do is to support them in that function? Now start apologizing and start with Lady Richeza."

  Damn! Damn and thrice damn! But I had sworn to protect the man. Fighting him was out of the question and there was nothing for it but to apologize.

  I had only begun when Sir Miesko came in and Conrad called to him.

  "Sir Miesko! Say hello to your new neighbor!"

  "What? You, Sir Conrad? What is this?"

  "Count Lambert has granted me lands adjoining yours."

  "Congratulations! But . . . that can only be in the hill country. There's not much good farming land up that way."

  "True. But I plan to make mortar from limestone and coal, do some lumbering, and perhaps raise some sheep."

  "Well, it might work. But how are you going to feed your people?"

  "Obviously, I'll have to buy food, which is one of the reasons I wanted to talk to you. I hope to be your best customer."

  "Well, I'd rather sell to you than a Hungarian merchant, but this wants talking. I have a new vat of beer in need of breaching. Let us retire to my chamber."

  Lady Richeza was in rapt conversation with Krystyana, with most of the others gathering around. Soon they moved off to the kitchen. I thought I was abandoned, but, no. I had my Annastashia.

  Chapter Three

  The next day, on the road to Cieszyn, I said, "Sir Conrad, you were speaking of a machine with vapors . . ."

  "A condensing steam engine. Yes?"

  "Tell me the way of it. This is something that you've seen before?"

  "Well, I've seen a walking-beam engine in a museum, but what I've seen won't work in our situation. You see, there is an existing mine shaft that slopes down at about a forty-five degree angle." Observing my facial expression, he gesticulated, drawing the angle in the air so that I understood. "I don't know how far the shaft is straight, but I think that I have an even simpler mechanism t
hat should work."

  "Indeed. I have seen a walking-beam and to my eyes it was no simple thing."

  "Have you! Where?"

  "At the salt mines near Cracow."

  "Sir Vladimir, we are going to have to visit that place. But back to my engine. Imagine a barrel with two holes in the bottom and one in the top. One of the bottom holes is fitted with a valve that will let water in but not out. It has a long pipe on it that leads down into the water. The other bottom hole has another long pipe on it—say about eight yards long—that leads up to another barrel with another valve on the bottom that lets water in but not out. These valves can be simple pieces of leather that loosely cover a hole."

  "I can imagine that."

  "Okay. Into the top of each barrel, we run a pipe from a boiler, a big kettle with a good lid. Between the kettle and each barrel we have a valve that is open and shut by hand. Still following me?"

  "Yes."

  "Right. Now we open the steam valve which fills the lower barrel with steam. Air in the barrel is forced out into the upper barrel."

  "Uh . . . oh. You have a fire under the kettle."

  "Of course. Now we close the steam valve. Steam in the lower barrel cools, condensing back to water which takes up much less space than the steam. The valve in the upper barrel will not let air back in so water is sucked up the pipe to fill the lower barrel."

  "Uh . . ."

  "Have you ever drunk through a straw?"

  "A straw? No, but once when I was ill my mother had me drink hot beer through the shaft of a heron's feather."

  "Same thing. As the lower barrel is filling, we purge the top barrel of air as we did the lower barrel. Once the lower barrel is full, we open the bottom steam valve again and close the top one. Thinking about it, these two steam valves could both be worked with the same handle. The water runs out the lower barrel and up to the top one, having been lifted sixteen yards. Closing the steam valve repeats the process.

  "Now, I don't know how deep that mine is, but I'm sure it's more than sixteen yards. Still, I see no reason why we can't cascade any number of barrels, each feeding the one above it. We'd only need two steam lines, one for odd barrels and one for even."

  "Why, that sounds wondrous, Sir Conrad." We rode a while in silence as I tried to digest it all. Then I said, "But why would you need many barrels? Why not just put a longer pipe on the first one?"

  "Well, there's a limit on how hard you can suck. Actually, I've said 'suck' because it's easier to visualize. In truth, you can't pull on water. Fluids lack tensile strength. What we're really doing is lowering the pressure in the barrel and letting atmospheric pressure push the water up."

  "Atmospheric pressure . . . ?"

  "Yes. Consider that we live at the bottom of an ocean of air . . ."

  "At the bottom of an ocean!" There are times when Conrad pushes too far!

  "Of air. Come on now, Vladimir. Can you really doubt that you are surrounded by air? What do you think wind is, but the motion of air? What do you think you're breathing?"

  "Well . . . yes. But I've never thought of it in those terms."

  "Okay. Now air has weight and . . ."

  "There! You are doing it again! If air has weight, why doesn't it fall down?"

  "Huh?" Conrad said.

  "It's up in the air, isn't it? . . . or maybe I can't say that, but it's up there, isn't it? If it weighs something it should fall down!"

  "But . . . it has fallen down. It's on Earth, isn't it? It hasn't drifted off to the Moon, has it?"

  "How the hell should I know?"

  "Well, it hasn't. If you go to the Moon, you must take your air with you."

  "If I go to the bloody damn Moon! Dammit, Sir Conrad, I am trying to engage in a simple, civil conversation. We are talking about accomplishing the mundane task of getting water out of a flooded mine. I may not have your education, but I am no idiot child to be fobbed off with tales of fairies and dragons and trips to the Moon!"

  The girls had dropped back as our argument heated up. We rode in silence for a bit, letting our tempers cool down. Then Conrad said, "Okay. I'm sorry, I didn't intend to insult you. Now, we were discussing atmospheric pressure. Let's suppose that you were walking at the bottom of a lake—No! Let me take that back. Suppose that a turtle was walking on the bottom of a lake."

  "Very well," I said.

  "Now, the turtle can look up and see the water above him, right? But you know that water has weight, always flows downhill, and settles in the lowest spot possible. Right?"

  "I see. So if I could stand like an angel above the world, I might see you riding at the bottom of an ocean of air."

  "Well put, Sir Vladimir. Now, air weighs very little, but it is many miles deep. The weight of it over a single square yard is something like ten tons. Hey, don't fly off the handle again!"

  I said with some resignation, "My back must be half of a square yard. Please explain how it is that I can carry five tons of air on it with ease, when one ton of stone would squash me flat?"

  Sir Conrad rubbed his neck with his fingertips, grimaced at the dirt of them and muttered, "Two weeks without a bath," then said, "A fluid pushes equally in all directions. While it is pushing down on top of you, it is also pushing up from the bottom. Those two areas must be the same, so they cancel out. The push down equals the push up and you don't feel anything."

  "I have tons pushing down and tons pushing up and doubtless tons pushing at all sides! Were that true, I would surely be squashed!"

  "Without the air pressure on you, you would quickly die. You might say that you are already squashed, that you are used to being squashed."

  "My mother would not be delighted to hear it."

  And so it was that we talked out the morning.

  Conversation with Conrad can numb the mind more than all the wine of Hungary! My one moment of glory was when Conrad thought that a "walking beam" was a log that somehow had a walking motion, whereas in truth a walking beam is a beam that a man walks on. A small victory, but something to hang the pride on.

  The none bells were ringing as we entered the gates of Cieszyn. I started heading for the castle, as was my custom, but Conrad directed us to the Pink Dragon Inn.

  "You and I would be welcome at the fort," he whispered. "The girls would not."

  I saw the wisdom in this. I had heard that Conrad owned the Pink Dragon Inn, and I suppose that I expected it to be filled with more of his mechanical contrivances. What I found surprised me. The place had a large carved wooden sign, as brightly painted as a statue in church. It had a large and fat pink dragon, beer mug in hand, staring with great lechery at a small and remarkably feminine pink rabbit. This strangely proportioned rodent was grinning back at the dragon.

  We were met at the door by Tadeusz, the innkeeper. He was a huge man, as round as a ball, with a full beard and a clean white apron, yet for all his size he moved with remarkable speed.

  "Sir Conrad! Welcome, my lord! It is joyous to see you again!"

  "Nice to see you, too, Tadeusz."

  "This noble lord and these fine ladies, they are your guests, my lord?"

  "Oh, yes. They lodge at the inn's expense."

  I was relieved to hear this. You see, while my father is hardly a pauper, his expenses in recent years have been high. Not only had he provided three sons with horse, arms, and armor, but he had provided a total of seven large dowries in the course of getting my six sisters married. (It happened that one prospective brother-in-law had the effrontery to drop his dowry into the Odra River while on a ferryboat. To his credit, he did try to retrieve the sack, but was unfortunately wearing full armor at the time. Or perhaps fortunately, for had he not drowned, my father would surely have dealt the fellow a less honorable death. I suppose every family has a skeleton or two about.)

  Be that as it may, my father does not see fit to provide lavishly for a son who has remained a bachelor. My services to Lambert had been in discharge of feudal duty, so of course I had not been paid. The duke had
not mentioned money, so I could hardly broach so mundane a subject to so high a personage.

  The result was that I had in my possession a total of nine pence, enough perhaps for a meal and lodging for a night. After that, well, I would always be welcome at Cieszyn Castle, Count Herman's wife being my mother's second cousin. Also, since my father is one of eleven living children and my mother one of seventeen, there was always a relative nearby who would be happy of company. In fact, I once computed that it would be possible to spend four and a half years visiting them all without spending a pence, without overstaying a welcome, and without imposing on the same relative twice. My family may not be wealthy, nor high in the nobility, but we are prolific.

  The duke, however, had charged me to stay with Conrad and this would have proved difficult had not Conrad himself paid my way.

  Conrad and I dismounted and helped the girls down. A half dozen stable boys scurried out and took away our horses.

  "Curry them down and feed them of the best!" Tadeusz shouted. "The very best, mind you!"

  Conrad stopped the boy who was leading off his horse, removed his small, heavy saddlebags and draped them over the innkeeper's shoulder, which visibly sagged under the weight.

  "See that these are put in a safe place, Tadeusz, and have something sensible done with our baggage."

  Conrad introduced his party, but the innkeeper became increasingly fretful.

  "But you did not let me know that you were coming, my lord."

  "Well, it's not like I could phone ahead."

  The innkeeper paused to let that strange statement pass, being perhaps more used to Conrad than I was.

  "Business has been extremely good, my lord. The inn is full."

  "That's wonderful!"

  "It is wonderful that I cannot provide my liege lord and each of his noble guests with rooms?"

  "It's wonderful that our inn is doing well." At the time, I was shocked by Conrad's use of the royal plural, but on getting to know him better I found that he thought of the inn as belonging to both himself and the innkeeper. Conrad owned it legally and Tadeusz managed it, so it was "theirs." He actually thought that way.

  "We don't all need separate rooms," Conrad said, rubbing at the dirt on his neck. "What about the room that you were supposed to keep reserved for me?"