Re: Steel and Gunpowder

Chapter 64: Ten Thousand Copies

Within three days, Count von Hirschberg, the master of stores for Duke Wilhelm of Bavaria, rode to the von Frundsberg keep.

The Count brought a band of halberdiers and master armorers.

Hirschberg was a lord of the old ways, secretly sworn to turn his coat and strike the Swabian lands when the Teutonic knights marched.

He saw Konrad as a heretic, but the promise of buying thousands of suits of armor for a pittance was a bargain the Bavarian Duke could not let pass.

Konrad met the Bavarian lord not in a fine hall, but amidst the roar and smoke of the main armory. The room was piled to the rafters with old Swabian steel.

"The sum of this iron is vast, von Frundsberg," Hirschberg said, raising his voice. "This is good, battle-ready plate. Why do you cast aside the very shield of your footmen? Do your men not need iron to ward off blows?"

Konrad spoke a careful, worldly falsehood built on the Bavarian’s own belief that the Swabian realm was failing.

"My chests are empty," Konrad stated, speaking with the flat tone of a ruined merchant. "The laws to lay pipes in the dirt and build brick longhouses have bled our Fugger silver dry. I cannot pay for such building and still clothe common peasants in fine steel.

Thus, I am selling the plate and giving my men boiled leather to pay my debts."

Count von Hirschberg heard the words.

It made perfect sense to a lord... the heretic was stripping his men of iron to build pipes for unlettered serfs.

The Bavarian lord sneered within at such folly...

When the Duke’s halberdiers finally crossed the border, they would be carving through unarmored peasants.

"Your ways of rule are strange, Lord Konrad," Hirschberg said, hiding his joy behind a clerk’s mask.

He gave a sign to his armorers to check the steel. The masters quickly found the armor true and whole, having seen little battle before the Swabian lords yielded.

"The Bavarian crown will buy the lot," Hirschberg declared, "Yet, as this is used iron that must be fitted to our own men, I shall pay but ten Fugger silver florins for each full suit."

In those days, a new breastplate alone was worth four florins.

Ten florins for a full suit of armor was a fair price for used steel...

Konrad, however, meant to wring every copper from the men who sought his death.

"Your tally falls short..." Konrad countered. "Fifteen florins a suit."

Hirschberg scoffed, "That is the price of a thief. I will pay twelve florins, and not a copper more."

"Fourteen florins," Konrad commanded, "If your purse is too light, I have other buyers. The Bohemian sell-swords gathering on your northern borders cry out for iron. I shall gladly send this steel to their camps.

Outfitting the Bohemians in Swabian plate will cost you far more in blood and guards to hold your borders."

Hirschberg knew the ruin that would follow if the wild Bohemian bands gained such heavy armor... duke Wilhelm would have his head on a spike if he let such a thing pass.

The Count’s jaw tightened. "Fourteen florins. My men shall load the wagons."

As the Bavarian men began the great toil of loading the old armor onto their wagons, Count von Hirschberg gave a stiff nod of parting.

In his heart, the lord rejoiced.

He believed he had just stripped the Swabian footmen of their iron, leaving them naked to the sword, while wrapping his own Bavarian halberdiers in good steel for the coming war.

Konrad watched the Bavarian wagons roll away from the forges, groaning under the weight of the bought steel.

The bargain had poured tens of thousands of Fugger silver florins into his purse. Konrad sent swift word to the master of stores.

Every single florin taken from the Bavarian lord was to be given at once to the smugglers to buy raw Baltic saltpeter and brimstone. freēwebnovel.com

He had forced the Duke of Bavaria to buy the very powder that would be his doom... more than this, Konrad knew with certainty that the plate the Bavarians had just bought would serve only as deadly shards when struck by the terrible speed of his wheellocks and the bursting shot of his great guns.

...

The doors opened, bringing Father Anselm.

The bought priest had finished his great work: a book of new laws meant to tear down the Pope’s rule over the German lands.

A bound copy of the new book fresh from the presses.

He would hope for deep words about saving the souls of the Swabian peasants and cleansing the Church of its greedy sins.

Konrad held out a hand. "Give me the book."

Anselm laid the printed book upon the table. "The first batch is struck, my Lord. It lays bare..."

Konrad scanned the freshly printed text.

Anselm swallowed hard, "The truth is plain to see... when the German folk read these words, the Church will be forced to mend its greedy ways."

"The Catholic Church is a bloated beast that lives by the swords of sell-swords. It does not mend its ways; it burns those who speak against it," Konrad lectured.

"...but their coming wrath is already tallied in my books. We must ensure the master of the press keeps his frantic pace. Come to the forges."

Konrad put the book into his pouch and walked past the priest.

Anselm was forced to hurry to keep pace as they left the keep and went down into the smoke and roar of the von Frundsberg forges.

The printing house was a sprawling wooden building set right upon the rushing waters of the Inn River.

It held three massive stamping presses, their gears remade by Konrad with hard steel to strike faster and harder.

The house ate up vast stores of Hanseatic paper and black ink, burning a huge sum of the realm’s silver.

As Konrad and Anselm walked onto the floor, the master of the house, an old monk who had left his vows for a heavier purse of silver, saw Konrad at once.

The master dropped his book and rushed forward, bowing deeply.

"My Lord, your shining face brings light to this humble house," the master groveled. "Your deep wisdom guides the turning of our gears. How may this lowly servant do your bidding?"

"Your foolish words waste the breath you need to turn the presses," Konrad stated, "Still your tongue and take this work."

Konrad laid the printed book onto the main inking table. "The smugglers ride tonight. See that the ten thousand copies are loaded onto the wagons at once."

"This book is now the highest work of the Swabian forges," Konrad commanded, "You shall stop all other printing at once. I must have ten thousand bound books struck within a fortnight.

...and you shall use the plain German tongue so the lowest peasant may hear it read and understand."

The master checked his tallies against his stores of paper. "Lord Konrad, ten thousand books will use every scrap of Hanseatic paper we hold... the cost in silver will be ruinous."

"The silver is already paid by the master of stores," Konrad stated.

He turned to the paid gunners walking with him and gave a command for the Marshal.

"Tell Marshal Eckhard I am taking fifty paid gunners from the second footmen. They shall ring this house with a wall of iron.

Any man who steps near the paper or the lead type without my seal shall be shot dead on the spot."

With the tallies set and the guards ordered, Konrad turned and left the deafening house, leaving the master to drive his men through eighteen-hour days to meet the tally.

Back in the quiet of the master’s room, Father Anselm sank into a chair.

The priest was worn to the bone by the speed of Konrad’s will.

In an old tale, the lord would pour his man a cup of rich wine, drink to their shared victory, and speak warm words of the holy crusade to cleanse the Church of its sins.

Anselm looked up at Konrad, hungering for that very comfort. "We are bringing a sacred purification to the land. Aren’t we?"

"You’re dreaming foolish dreams, Anselm. Your book is nothing but a spark that illuminates the truth about their rulers," Konrad admonished him.

"I... I don’t understand," Anselm glared at him. "The book exposes their thefts."

"The book exposes their thefts, and this will force the Church to excommunicate all of Swabia," Konrad explained.

"The Emperor’s council will declare our lands a den of heretics. Catholic lords like Count Lothar, the Duke of Bavaria, and the minor barons of Swabia will be forced by papal decree to wage war against us, and this is already happening."

"This will unleash a bloody war across the empire..." Anselm cried, his voice trembling as he envisioned the sea of ​​blood he had just summoned. frёewebnoѵēl.com

"Thousands of poor serfs will die... and the trade routes will burn."

"Of course. What did you expect?" Konrad said flatly, "I cannot lawfully march my great guns to take the lands around us, for the Swabian League would strike back as one. Your book is the hammer that shatters those old laws."

"While the Bavarian footmen and the Teutonic horsemen slaughter their own kin over the meaning of your holy words, my paid gunners shall take their broken lands piece by piece."