unarmed and with goodwill. We wish to make amends for certain unpleasantries that occurred earlier this evening.'
There were six of them, two men and four women. They presented Tadeusz with a purse containing five hundred pence, removed the dead and wounded men, and, with buckets of warm, soapy water that they had brought with them, cleaned up the blood on the floor.
'These, of course, are yours by right of combat,' the gentleman said, presenting me with the newly cleaned misericord, the wide-bladed knife, and the leader's throwing knife. All three were sheathed. He must have brought the leader's sheath with him.
'Certain other amends will be made at the earliest opportunity. In the interim, I wish you a pleasant sleep and our assurances of our continued goodwill.'
And they left.
'That's it, gang. Back to bed,' I said, and took a long pull of wine.
A week later, a messenger delivered to me four complete outfits, all beautifully embroidered and one almost an exact duplicate of the one that had been damaged. He also brought a red velvet barding for Anna and a matching surcoat for me, both embroidered with gold thread.
All of it fit perfectly. I never found out how they got the sizes, but I was never again troubled by the underworld.
Chapter Nineteen
I needed quite a few brass castings for the wet mills.
There was the gearing between the small, compensating windmill and the turret. I had originally envisioned a collection of wooden cog wheels, but a brass worm gear was a lot simpler and more efficient.
A worm gear is simply a screw-the worm-with threads that fit into the teeth of a gear. The problem is that for them to mate properly, the shapes of both the worm and the gear get very complicated. They were well beyond our ability to machine; they were probably beyond my ability to describe mathematically.
I spent an evening drinking and pondering the problem in my room. The taproom below was always too crowded and noisy to think, and even in my room enough noise seeped up from below to be disturbing. I finally hired a krummhorn player to sit in the comer and play softly. Muzak.
The next morning, I had Mikhail Krakowski make up an oversized worm and gear out of clay. This was done crudely, by hand and by eye. The teeth were very deep, and the clay was built up around turned brass mandrels to assure concentric bearings. When dry, we fitted these together in an adjustable wooden frame. The fit was poor at first, but it was possible to turn the gear by turning the worm. We then put a man to cranking the worm gently and adjusting the teeth together as the unbaked clay wore away. In three days, they were much smaller and a perfect fit. We then fired the clay worm and gear, and these became our master patterns for brass castings. This gearing gave us a 48 to I reduction between the small windmill and a shaft that connected to the turret. The shaft turned a lantern gear that worked on pegs set into the fixed tower. As a result, the small windmill turned 1,152 times in the course of rotating the turret once. I hoped it would be enough.
One by one, problems were solved. The bushings had been cast, one with sockets to hold the windmill blades. These bushings were being turned laboriously on the big lathe. Two more smaller lathes were under construction. We were confident that all the parts necessary for the wet mill would be ready for delivery to Okoitz in a month.
I was getting ready to return to Count Lambert when I heard an awful squealing from the foundry. I rushed over and was stopped by Wladyslaw Krakowski.
'My brother! My own brother called me a lazy pig!'
'I called you a lazy pig because you are a lazy pig!' Mikhail explained. The squealing was still going on.
'All right! But I'm a tired lazy pig, and walking in that barrel on the lathe is no fit job for a man!'
They were still arguing when I pushed past them and went to the lathe. Thom was operating it. Inside the barrel an unhappy pig was trotting madly, trying to climb the rotating wall. A brass ring in the animal's nose was tied to a wooden stick such that if it stopped running, its nose was pulled.
I stared at this for a while. Using a pig as motive power was strange, but a pig is a strong animal, and its short legs let it work where no horse could possibly fit. Would our future machines be rated in pigpower the way Americans use horsepower?
I suppose it was hard on the pig, but I can think of nothing worse to do to an animal than killing and eating it, and I am not about to become a vegetarian like Adolf Hitler.
Thom moved the stick back so that the pig could stop. 'The speed control,' he said. 'I think we'll have to switch pigs about three times an hour. It's cheaper than men, though.'
I could see that it was time to go back to Okoitz.
I was in the saddle when the innkeeper brought me a stirrup cup and a pouch of gold. 'Seven thousand pence, my lord. Your profits for the first month of the Pink Dragon,' he said.
I thanked him and rode off. Seven thousand pence in a single month! That was twice what I paid for the place, back salaries and all! Well, it would keep the foundry going no matter what else happened. If I couldn't get land of my own, that foundry might be all that stood between us and the Mongols.
Anna seemed inordinately proud of her new red velvet barding. She held her head high with her neck arched and walked with a gait she'd never used before. It was a sort of hopping thing, with her left front and right rear hooves hitting the cobblestones at the same time. I guess it was impressive because a lot of people came out to watch.
But it was rough on my lower back, and as soon as we left the city gates, I urged her into a more comfortable gallop.
She ran the entire way to Sir Miesko's manor, again without working up a sweat.
Krystyana greeted me, but at first I almost didn't recognize her. Her actual appearance hadn't changed, except that she wore her hair differently. But something about her bearing, the way she held her shoulders back, the way she glided instead of clumping along like a gawky adolescent ... But there was more, much more. Something that I couldn't quite define. Somehow, a pretty duckling had turned into a swan.
'Welcome, Sir Conrad. I've missed you.' She had the same calm smile that made Lady Richeza so radiant.
I was home.
I hated to leave, but I was worried about my projects at Okoitz so we set out the next morning. Halfway to Okoitz, we met Sir Miesko on the road.
'Sir Miesko! It's delightful to see you again. We have just come from your manor, and all is well.'
'That relieves my mind, Sir Conrad. In truth, I worried about Richeza all winter. For my own part, I have sent Boris Novacek on his way to Cracow with half a dozen mule skinners, seventyfive mules, and a gross of barrels of wine.'
'And how are things going at Okoitz?'
'Amazing! Your loom and wheels are turning out cloth by the mile, and that huge mill of yours is half up!'
'Half up! I've stayed too long at Cieszyn.'
'All seemed to be going well. But aren't you being rude, Sir Conrad? You haven't introduced me to your lady.'
'But you already know her. Surely you haven't forgotten Krystyana.'
'What? Damn, but you're right! But her bearing, her poise-'
'It's entirely your wife's doing, Sir Miesko. Krystyana visited her for a month, and you see the results. I didn't think to buy a present for Richeza, but if you want a loom and some spinning wheels, or even the fittings for a mill, you have only to ask.'
'I might just take you up on that, for you have gained a prize of great value. But now I am anxious to see my wife again, so I bid you good-bye, Sir Conrad, and you, my Lady Krystyana.'
As Sir Miesko rode away, Krystyana looked at me. 'He called me a lady!'
