“I don’t understand much of what you said, but I have heard of alchemists. I will spread the word that you want one. But most of those men are frauds and liars. How could I possibly know a good one from an imposter?”
“I recall that the Moslems had-have-better alchemists than we do, so he might be a Moor. And if he knows how to make the three strong acids, if he can show you a liquid that can dissolve gold, aqua regia it’s called, then he’s my man.”
“I will search for you, Sir Conrad. I cannot promise what I’ll find.”
“Thank you, Boris. Tell me, what became of the amber you recovered from Schweiburger?”
“I sold it at a good price to a caravan of Crossmen.”
On arriving at Three Walls, I had to spend a few hours playing manager. The mining foreman reported that they had found a seam of clay in the mine. This was expected, since clay is usually found in association with coal. Still it was good news, for now we knew that we could manufacture bricks and clay pipes efficiently.
Then a rather shamefaced Sir Vladimir told me about the second tunnel and “sticky rocks.” I had to hear his jumbled tale twice before I could figure out what he was talking about. Then I felt a very pleasant glow.
I changed into my work clothes and went to the boys’ tunnel. A crowd of people gathered who should have been working, but I decided that they should be in on this one, since it would affect all of their lives.
I crawled in almost on my belly, so tiny was that shaft. From the position of the shaft and the way it angled upward, it was obvious that it had been dug with the intention of draining the mineshaft above. If I could accurately measure the angles and distances involved, I should be able to compute the distance we would have to pump to reach the coal.
But more important was what stopped the old miners from their digging. Once I reached it, there could be no doubt. The knives and Sir Vladimir’s helmet were held magnetically to the ore seam. There’s only one magnetic rock that I know of, and that’s magnetite, sometimes called lodestone. It’s one of the best iron ores.
The old miners had dug that far and had then been scared off by something that they couldn’t comprehend. It was probably why the valley had been abandoned fifty years ago.
I really had to yank to get the knives and helmet away from the ore seam, but it seemed important that I do so. Sir Vladimir was glad at the return of his equipment, but from that day on his helmet was magnetized and collected iron filings the way a boy collects dirt.
“Did you find the Ghost of the Mines?” a dirty boy asked me as I returned his knife.
“No, but I found a treasure he was guarding!”
This caused a lot of mumbling in the crowd, so I climbed a bit up the hill so they could all hear me. -..
“There is a kind of magnetic ore called magnetite that has the property of sticking to iron and steel. We have a seam of it in that shaft. It’s perfectly natural and nothing to be afraid of. It’s a good ore, and with it we can make iron and steel.”
“Do you realize that in this one small valley, God has seen fit to give us every major mineral that we need? We have coal and iron ore and clay and limestone! With that we can make mortar and bricks and concrete! We can make iron and steel! We even have sandstone to line our furnaces and to make grinding wheels! I tell you that whatever else happens, the success of this valley is assured!”
That got a cheer out of them, even though they didn’t realize all the work that would be involved.
Interlude Three
I hit the STOP button.
“Tom, I can’t believe that many minerals all in one spot. Was that your doing?”
“It was not. Except for the limestone, which is a common mineral throughout the Carpathians, those were all small deposits. None of them would have been commercially exploitable in the twentieth century, when volumes were large and transportation cheap. Small deposits like that are common in Europe. Conrad just lucked out, having them all so close together.”
“Anyway, stop interrupting.”
He pressed the START button.
Chapter Sixteen
Sir Vladimir and I had just spent another grueling three-hour session of fighting practice, trying to teach me how to put a lance through a quintain, an old plywood shield with a small hole in the center of it. The glues used were inferior to the modem ones, and the thin strips of wood had started to delaminate. It wasn’t quite like modem plywood. The plies were at sixty-degree angles rather than ninety.
The shield was fixed to one end of a crossbar that was mounted to a swiveling post. At the other end of the crossbar hung a hefty sandbag. You charged the thing at a full gallop and tried to put your lance through the hole. If you missed the hole, as I usually did, you hit the shield, spun the post around, and the sandbag hit you in the back of the head. This generally knocked you off your horse.
Sir Vladimir considered even that arrangement to be rather effeminate. He wanted to replace the sandbag with a rock.
I simply couldn’t master it. After two weeks of steady bruising, I was just as bad at it as when I started.
“I’m beginning to lose faith, Sir Conrad. I fear you’ll never be a lanceman. But see here, it isn’t all that bad. Death must come to all men eventually, and at least yours will be in the glory of combat, with your friends looking on. We’ll give you a beautiful funeral, and I’ll light a candle in the church for you every Christmas and Easter.” He really meant it.
It didn’t help at all that Sir Vladimir never missed with a lance. He was supposed to be instructing me, but in fact he didn’t see how it was possible for anybody to miss so easy a target. He could hit the hole sideways! I mean that he could set the quintain at right angles to its normal position, charge it at a full gallop, and while passing three yards from it thrust his lance out to the side and skewer the hole every time.
It was becoming obvious that if I was going to win the coming trial, I was going to need special weapons, or tactics, or help. Preferably all three. “Sir Vladimir, let’s go over the rules again. You said the code was ‘arm yourself.’ What if I brought in a cannon?”
“What is a cannon, Sir Conrad?”
“That’s sort of hard to explain. What if I was a bowman like Tadaos?”
“A bow is hardly a knightly weapon. No true belted knight would use one in honorable combat. The bow is for peasants and women.”
“Why is that? It seems a strange prejudice.”
“Well, if everybody used them in a battle, who would know who killed whom? Where would be the glory in just going out and getting shot? The best men would fall as easily as the worst! What a horrible situation! No. A true knight would never use a bow or fire a trebuchet or anything of the sort.”
“So projectile weapons are out?”
“Of course, Sir Conrad.”
“I guess that scuttles my cannon idea. I probably couldn’t develop gunpowder in the time available, anyway. How about armor? I noticed that you knights never armor your horses.”
“There would be no point to it. Striking another knight’s mount would be a foul. At your trial, four crossbowmen will be at the ready to kill the man that does a foul deed.”
“I didn’t realize that. How about weapons? I can use my own sword, can’t 1, and not one of the heavy choppers you guys use?”
“Your own sword is legal, as are any daggers, maces, axes, mauls, war hammers, or anything else that is not thrown. A weapon must stay in your hand.”
“How about body armor? Do I have to wear chain mail?”
“No, but you’d be a damn fool not to. You ought to have a coat of plates made as well.”
“A coat of plates?”
“Yes. I should have mentioned it sooner, but there’s still plenty of time. It’s sort of a leather vest with iron plates sewn inside. You wear it either over or under your mail.”
“You might want to get a great helm as well. They fit over your regular helmet, and you wear them for the first few charges, until the lances are broken. After that, if it comes to swordwork, you can take it off, to see better.”