Frankowski, Leo - Stargard 3 - The Radiant Warrior

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The Radiant Warrior
Book 3 of the Adventures of Conrad Starguard
By Leo Frankowski
Prologue
She unloaded the temporal canister, glanced quickly at her new subordinate, loaded it with her last superior,
and sent it two and a half million years uptime. One contact every fifty years and that for only a few
seconds. Life this far back was a bitch.
The new arrival was biosculpted into a male version of herself, a type twenty-seven protohuman. He was
barely four feet tall, skinny and with dark brown skin. He was also naked, since clothing wouldn't be
invented for millions of years.
She switched off his stasis field.
He looked up at the stalactites hanging above him from the cave roof. Confused, he looked over at her.
"Surprise! You son of a bitch!" she shouted. "Welcome to two and a half million B.C.! Welcome to a
hundred years of dodging leopards and eating grubs and shivering up in a tree all night, you bastard,
because it's all your fault!"
"What? Where am I?"
"The where is eastern Africa, you lucky boy, but the fun part is the when! You're in the Anthropological
Corps now and you get to do the exciting work of tracking protohuman migration patterns!"
"This must be some sort of a joke! And you are the rudest and the ugliest woman I've ever seen!"
"Watch your language, buster! I'm your boss and will be for the next fifty years. And if you think I'm ugly,
just wait until you see yourself in a mirror, not that we have one."
"What is going on here? None of this makes sense! I was in twentieth-century Poland, doing my
paperwork, when the monitors came in and I woke up here. And I look like you?"
"Yeah, minus the floppy tits, ugly."
"But ... why?"
"Your file says it's a punishment detail for gross incompetence. You completely failed to brief a new
subordinate on security procedures! She left the wrong door open. And the Owner's own cousin, who had
never heard of time travel, got transported back to Poland's thirteenth century, ten years before the Mongol
invasions. Then the Owner himself found his cousin in the battle lines during the invasion. The man had
been there for ten years before he was discovered! There was nothing they could do about it without
violating causality. When you screw up, you don't fart around!"
"But ... without notification, without trial?"
"You mess with the Owner's family, you're in deep shit, boy!"
"Well ... what are you doing here, then?"
"You don't recognize me? I suppose I should be crushed, you bastard, but I'm not. I'm the woman that you
failed to brief, you shithead! I've been in this lousy pest hole for fifty years because of you, and now I've
got fifty more to get you back for it!"
"Surely, madam, there's no reason to be vindictive about it. After all, if we're both in the same boat-"
"A boat wouldn't be this bad, bastard! We are in the middle of a bloody wilderness with nothing to eat but
carrion and grubs! There's nothing to do but wander around after a tribe with less brains than a bunch of
morons, and nobody to talk to that has a vocabulary of over forty words except each other."
"Hell yes, I'm vindictive! And I'm going to stay that way for the next fifty years!"
He rolled over and groaned.
She looked at him. "Well, in fifty years, my replacement will be the dolt at the thirteenth-century portal
who should have caught your screw-up. Then you get to be his boss. It gives you something to look
forward to." He groaned again.
Chapter One
FROM THE DIARY OF PIOTR KULCZYNSKI
My name is Piotr Kulczynski. I am an accountant. I was taught my craft by the lord I serve, Sir Conrad
Stargard.
He is a good lord, and well loved by his people, for he is a giant in mind, body, and soul.
His learning is renowned above that of all other men, and scarce half a day passes when he does not create
some useful device or demonstrate some new technique or sing some new song. He has built great mills
and efficient factories for his lord Count Lambert and on his own lands, gifted to him by that count, he has
thrown up huge buildings in but a few months. Our Church of Christ the Carpenter at Three Walls is
reputed to be the biggest in Poland. Sir Conrad says that soon we will be making iron and steel in vast
quantities, as well as a sort of mortar called cement.
He is vastly tall, and must bend his head to pass through any normal doorway. For his buildings at Three
Walls, he decreed that the doors be tall enough to let him pass with his helmet on. He claims that the next
generation of children will be, some of them, as tall as he, because they will be eating properly. The
carpenters built as he required, but they laughed that any children of his size must be of his get.
His prowess in battle is above that of all others, and but three days agone he defeated one of the greatest
champions in Poland, the Crossman Sir Adolf, in Trial by
4
Combat. He not only destroyed that Knight of the Cross easily, he actually played with the man while he
did it, first throwing away his shield and then his sword, winning the fight with his bare hands to show that
God was truly on his side.
And he is a saintly man, kind to those in need and always ready to help the poor, the aged, the oppressed.
The very Trial I mentioned was caused when, out of pity for a gross of Pruthenian slaves, he beat seven
Crossmen in fair combat, killing five and wounding a sixth almost to the death, then saving that man's life
with his surgical skill. He met that caravan of slaves when he was traveling a great distance to ransom a
casual acquaintance with a vast sum, to keep that man from being hung.
And he has been blessed by God. At the Trial, after he had defeated his opponent so easily, he was foully
attacked by four other Crossmen. With my own eyes, I saw four golden arrows fall from the sky, killing
the. men who would have harmed the Lord's Anointed.
Yet he is my enemy.
Never would I do harm to my lord, nor even think evil of him, for evil is far from all his words and deeds.
But since I was a small child I have loved Krystyana.
Before I dared profess my love to her, she was chosen by Count Lambert to be one of his ladies-in-waiting.
I could do nothing while she warmed Count Lambert's bed, and those of his knights, for she went to this
task willingly. Yet I was consoled, for it is the custom of that lord, once one of his ladies was with child, to
marry her to one of the commoners of his village. My father promised to talk to Count Lambert and to
Krystyana's parents when the time was right, and I thought that one day within the year I would have my
love by my side.
But then Sir Conrad came to Okoitz. He came from someplace to the east, though from exactly where is a
mystery, for a priest laid a geas on him that he may not speak of his origins.
I was among those to whom he taught mathematics, and he paid the priest to teach us our letters. He gave
me a responsible position, keeping the books of his inn, his brass works, and now the city he was building
at Three Walls. This made me a man of some substance, which bolstered my claim to Krystyana's hand.
Then Count Lambert sent my love, along with four others, with Sir Conrad to the vast lands awarded him.
Sir Conrad gave all five ladies positions of considerable importance, and it is his custom that no woman
may be forced into marriage, nor even strongly encouraged, but that each may marry the man of her own
choosing, or even not marry at all.
My love Krystyana has never looked kindly on me. Even when our positions force us to work together-for
she manages the kitchens that feed Sir Conrad's nine hundred people, and I must account for every penny
spent-she treats me coldly.
Long have I been convinced that could she but lay by my side for a single night, her love would come to
me. Yet I see no way that this could happen.
Today at Count Lambert's town of Okoitz, Annastashia-one of Sir Conrad's five ladies-was married to that
fine young knight Sir Vladimir. It was a beautiful ceremony, with Sir Conrad giving the bride away and all
the ladies crying. But Krystyana's thoughts were plain on her face, and I knew that she would not be
content to marry anyone less than a true belted knight, and that knight, Sir Conrad.
So I wait while hope dwindles.
FROM THE DIARY OF CONRAD SCHWARTZ
The evening after my Trial by Combat, I was annoyed to discover that my loyal carpenters were so
convinced that I would lose and be killed that they had made a beautiful coffin for me, and that my loving
masons had cut me a fine tombstone. Now they wanted me to tell them what to do with the damn things! I
ranted for a while about their lack of faith. Then I rejected my first three thoughts about where these things
should be stuffed, deciding that the man who had lost the fight didn't deserve any special favors from me.
The coffin was really a nicely carved rectangular chest, without anything overtly morbid about it, so I told
them to carry it back to Three Walls. I'd use it for storing clothes.
We threw away the stone, and much later I found it used as an outdoor table, with my name still carved on
it. I should have smashed the damn thing.
I was also miffed to discover that most of my workers had bet against me when I fought Sir Adolf. One of
them explained that it was the sensible thing to do. After all, if I won, they knew that their futures were
secure, but if I lost, they would each need every penny just to survive! It still left a bad taste in my mouth.
I was able to talk to the Bishop of Wroclaw just before he returned to his cathedral. He was actually in the
saddle when he granted me an audience.
"Your excellency, I now have a city of over nine hundred souls without a full-time priest. But I don't want
just any priest. I want a man who is capable of running an entire school system. Is it possible for me to get
such a scholar?"
"That's interesting, my son, for not three days ago I got a letter from an excellent young scholar looking for
just such a position. I shall write him immediately on my return to Wroclaw. Yes. It will be nice having an
intelligent Italian in the diocese."
He gave me his ring to kiss, and rode off before I could reply. I had to wait for someone to come all the
way from Italy? That could take a year!
Sir Stefan and his father, the baron, were leaving at the same time. There was a lot of bad blood between
us, starting last winter over a disagreement about working hours. Since then, a number of other things had
caused friction between us, and the man had become my avowed enemy. Everything I did seemed to fan his
hatred, and I had just about given up trying to get him off my back. As he left, he bit his thumb at me in
insult.
"It's not over, Conrad!" he shouted.
Christmas at Okoitz was as raucous as it had been the year before. With my people there as well as Count
Lambert's and the workers from the cloth mill, the church was no longer big enough to hold us all. They
cleared the dyeing vats, washing tubs, and other equipment out of the first floor of the cloth factory, and we
held the affair there.
Along with Count Lambert and myself, Sir Vladimir, his two brothers, two of his sisters and all of their
husbands and wives, plus his parents sat at the high table along with the priest and the priest's beautiful
wife. Added to these were my four remaining ladies and Count Lambert's current six (he was trying to cut
down). Thus twenty-four nobles were available for the peasants and workers to take out a year's
aggressions on. You'd think that the pranks would have been spread around a bit more, but Count Lambert
and I still caught the brunt of it.
At least this year I knew what to expect, and could psych myself up to play the clown before I had to do it.
They selected a King of Misrule by passing out bread rolls with a bean in one of them. As luck would have
it, the bean came to one of my topmen, the men who climbed to the tops of the huge trees to cut them off so
that the trees could be felled. The topmen were all extroverted Yahoos, and I had not been polite to them
lately.
The Queen of Misrule fell to one of the clothworkers, a remarkably attractive young woman who at least
looked the part.
I won't bore you with the buffoonery that went on. Count Lambert and I left as soon as possible and retired
to his chambers.
"Gad! I swear it gets worse every year!" Count Lambert said as he took off the yard-long codpiece he had
been forced to wear. He filled two silver goblets from the silver pitcher on the sideboard and handed one to
me.
"I can't see how next year could possibly get rowdier, my lord." I took off the pointed wizard's hat I'd been
given and took a long pull. The drink was what I needed, though in fact it was wretched stuff. The lack of
glass bottles and decent corks ruined medieval wine pretty quick. Most of it was drunk in the year after the
grapes were squeezed, and nobody ever considered recording the vintage; wine didn't last long enough to
age.
"Just wait. On some matters a peasant can be very creative. But there's nothing to be done. Custom is
custom." He sat down on a chest next to a table and motioned me to the one opposite. A chessboard was
already set up.
"Still, my lord, it marks the end of quite a year." I picked up a pawn from each side, shook them in my
cupped hands and concealed one in each fist, offering them to him.
"It has been that. Think! A year ago today was the first time I'd met you. One might say it's our
anniversary. A year ago yesterday you killed that brigand, Sir Rheinburg, who had been infesting my lands
and killing my people. And three days ago you killed Sir Adolf right here on my tourney field. Counting
your battle with the Crossmen on my trail, that makes three fights in one year!" He had chosen black and
was moving his pieces out in the Dragon variation that I had made the mistake of showing him.
"More than that, my lord, depending on what you call a fight. By the time I got here, I had been involved in
four separate acts of violence." There wasn't much I could do about his opening but make the standard
replies.
Seeing his eyebrow raise at "four," I said, "There was my first run-in with Sir Adolf where he bashed me in
the head. Then one night on the river at Cracow, Tadaos the boatman killed three thieves who were trying
to murder him. You know about the irate creditor on your trail, and the fight with Sir Rheinburg's band of
hoodlums. The fight with the whoremasters' guild in Cieszyn took out three of the thugs, and against those
child molesters, Sir Vladimir and I killed or maimed six out of the seven Crossmen."
"I guess I can't count the incident at the ferry at Cracow last summer, since it started when I got a rock on
the side of my head and it was over before I got my wits back. The rabies victim wasn't a fight. He had me
so scared that I killed him out of fright. It was simple murder." The opening was over, and Count Lambert
was moving from a Sicilian defense into a strong center position.
"That last thing you mentioned, this 'rabies victim,' was a vampire. They must be killed. You did right, Sir
Conrad. But think, in about a year you have been in what?-say ten bits of action. You forgot your brawl
with Sir Stefan. Do you realize that I haven't had the chance to draw my sword in earnest in four years?
And I must spend a third of my time on the road."
"True, my lord, but you always travel in the company of a dozen armored knights." Now what the devil was
I going to do about that damn bishop?
"Dog's blood, but you're right! From now on I'll travel in simple garb and I'll travel alone! Let the rest
follow an hour behind! That ought to get some action going."
"My lord, I was just talking idly, trying to get your mind off your chess. I never meant to get you killed!" I
was being forced into the comers where I couldn't maneuver.
"Well, damn the chess! I know! I'll fill two saddlebags with silver, and try to hide the fact. Word will
spread like a covey of scared rabbits!" He took my queen's bishop.
"Please, my lord. Your life is important to me." I slaughtered his knight in return.
"Well, thank you. A touching sentiment. But a man must keep his hand in, musn't he?" He took my knight
with his pawn! Now why the hell? ... Oh no!
It was best not to let this run too long. "You never told me how your beehives were doing, my lord." I
castled, but I knew it was too late.
"What? Oh, wonderful! Twenty-nine of your hives caught themselves bees. We only harvested six of them,
but think! From what you said, that means there must be twenty-nine wild hives out there. Add that to the
twenty-three I left, and that means fifty-two new hives next year, for a total of seventy-five! And every man
of mine will have at least a gross of hives next summer! In a few years, we'll have honey pouring out of our
noses!" He continued his merciless attack.
That last simile bothered me because like most engineers, my mental imagery is entirely too graphic. I see
things while people are talking. The image formed was of honey coming out of Count Lambert's nose and
being licked up as soon as it filtered through his thick moustache. Sometimes I wish I was a dull person.
"I wish my own had done as well. By the time I got to my lands last summer, it was a bit late in the season.
My gross of beehives only got me eight colonies." I made a try at forking his king and rook, but he saw it
and blocked.
"A pity! Shall I harvest one more of mine and send it to you?" He pushed an innocent-looking pawn.
"Thank you, my lord, but no. You know my customs. I always eat the same as my workers. Split between
nine hundred people, the harvest of one hive would come to about one honey cake each. In a few years,
we'll have enough to make mead." I was forced to trade a bishop for two pawns.
"Mead! I've heard of that. My grandfather was said to have loved it. But who could afford to drink it now,
honey being as rare as it is? I doubt if anyone still knows the way of making it. Do you know?" He took my
queen's rook, hardly glancing at the board.
"It happens that I've made several barrels of the stuff. It's simple enough, and in truth, my lord, it was better
than what we're drinking. I'll show your people how when the time comes."
In modem Poland, the making of alcohol in any form is illegal without a state license. In America, where I
went to college, any adult may make wine or beer, up to two hundred gallons a year, which is a lot. One of
my dorm brothers was over twenty-one, and-purely in the interest of studying ancient technology-we had
produced seven plastic garbage containers of the stuff, mead being the cheapest palatable drink that is
easily made. I recall that it was under two dollars a gallon, buying honey wholesale and making mead of
twelve percent alcohol.
"Sir Conrad, I know that I have said this too many times before, and that you have always proved me
wrong. But what if you should die? What if no one else remembers how to make it?"
My position was untenable. I saw a forced mate in five moves, and Count Lambert would probably see a
shorter one. I tipped my king over, acknowledging defeat. Count Lambert started to reset the board for
another game, turning the board so that I would play black.
"As you wish, my lord. You dilute the honey with water at the ratio of three-to-one if you want a sweet
wine, or from four-to-one even to six-to-one if you want a dry wine for hot summer afternoons. Boil it for a
little while and skim off the foam that comes up."
"Add spices if you want to. You might have some fun playing with them. Lemons are good, but I don't
think you can get them here. You might try substituting a few handfuls of rose hips. Or try apples. In fact,
substituting apple juice for the water, and using less honey makes a fine drink. All of that is to your own
taste. Making any wine is an art form."
"The only important point is to use wine yeast, not beer yeast. That is to say, have a merchant bring you
some very new wine up from Hungary. Tell him you want it still bubbling when it gets here. Put a little of
the dregs into the mead after it has cooled."
"It's fit to drink in a few weeks, and it will last a long time if you keep the air away from it. After that,
always save some of the dregs from the last batch to. start the new one. Start out with new barrels, and keep
it far away from a beer brewery or a bakery."
Once I had a glass works going, I could make a vapor lock easily enough. These people didn't have a
decent cork, anyway. The nearest cork trees were in Spain, and I doubt if the Spaniards knew what to do
with them. A siphon? The nearest rubber tree was in the Amazon valley!
"That's all? Not nearly as hard as the way you told us of making steel! You've taught us so much. Your
mills, the factories, your excellent hunt! Did I tell you that I have thought on a way to do one of your
'Mongol hunts' on all of my lands, and thus clear them of the wolves and bears that have been killing my
people?"
"No, my lord, you hadn't." Count Lambert had gotten entirely too good at the modem far-flung sort of
chess-style. This time I threw an old-fashioned Stonewall attack at him.
"Well, you remember that the problems were that my lands are many days' walk across, and if the peasants
acting as beaters had to be out more than one day, we would have difficulty sheltering them at night, for the
hunt must take place in the late fall, when the game is the fattest and the furs are good."
"Also, no one knew how we could keep the wolves from sneaking out in the dark."
"The solution is simple. Not one big hunt, but a lot of smaller ones! I shall divide my lands into many
smaller 'hunting districts.' Each of these will be of such a size that a man can walk from the border to the
center in less than a day." He replied to the Stonewall in the standard manner. He hadn't forgotten a thing!
"Interesting, my lord, but what stops the animals from crossing from one district to another between hunts?
You could have one district cleaned out, and then have it reinfested before you cleared out the next." I
fianchettoed my queen's bishop.
"Not if we do all of them on the same day! I think I have peasants enough to do it, and if the nobles tire of
the sport, why, the commoners can help with the killing as well. Also, I think that many knights from the
surrounding counties might well come if invited." He was pushing in at my center again.
"It sounds good to me, my lord. You can count on my support." I castled king's side.
"More than that, Sir Conrad. I was counting on your leadership. I want you to organize the thing."
"Well, if you wish, my lord. But are you sure that I'm the best man for the job? I really don't know much
about hunting. I don't know the borders of your lands at all. And I don't know which of your knights and
barons own which sections of your lands. I don't even know who the surrounding counts are, except for
your brother."
"It could be a very remunerative position, Sir Conrad. As Master of the Hunt, you could claim a certain
portion of the take for yourself. All the deer skins, for example."
"Thank you, my lord. But I repeat, I'll do it if you want me to, but I don't think I'm the best man for it."
"I've already said that I want you to!"
I sighed. When Count Lambert wants something, he gets it. Best to bow to the inevitable. "As you wish, my
lord, and thank you. Would you object if I appointed a deputy to assist me?"
"Not in the least. Who did you have in mind?"
"I think I'll ask Sir Miesko first. If he's not interested, then perhaps Sir Vladimir. "
"Excellent. Let me know when everything's settled. No hurry on anything. Work all winter if you need to."
"Thank you, my lord. On another subject, the second mill, the one that is to thresh and grind grain. I can't
help noticing that work is slowing down. Do you know why that is?" I was being smashed back into the
corners again.
"In fact I do. I ordered it slowed down because I haven't figured out yet what to do with my lawbreakers if
there is no grain to grind. As it is, if there are no lawbreakers, my peasants must take turns at the hand-
operated mill. After all, the grain must be ground and everybody knows it. This keeps them all on the
lookout for any infraction. It also gives me a form of punishment that everyone knows is not cruel, but
simply tedious. Few men would turn in a neighbor for a whipping, but for a few days at the stone? Why,
that's treated with humor."
"As a result, I have very little real crime and my people all love me. But without their having to grind grain,
what am I to do?"
"I see, my lord. So you need a job that is unpleasant but necessary, and must be done year around by a few
men. "
"Yes. You have a thought?"
"Perhaps, my lord. Did you know that right here, we are sitting on top of one of the world's major coal
deposits?"
"Coal? Right here?"
"Many layers of coal, my lord. They stretch almost all the way from Cracow to Wroclaw. I don't know how
far down the first big seam is around here, but it's one of the thickest in the world, more than two dozen
yards thick in most places. I would guess that it's at least eight dozen yards down. But most farmers would
find working in a mine to be unpleasant."
"Yes, I can see it! It might work! Slaving all day in the cold and dark and wet! They are cold, wet, and
dark, aren't they?"
"Most assuredly, my lord."
"Yes, that would solve the problem nicely. Only, what would we do with all the coal?"
"Well, heat your houses with it, for starters! Later on, I'll show you lots of things you can do with it."
"Now, Sir Conrad, I know that won't work. I know a man who tried to burn coal in his firepit. It stank up
his house so badly that they all had to run out into the snow! That house stank for years!"
"In an open firepit, you're right my lord. It takes a special kind of a stove. I hope to be making potbellied
stoves by next summer, at a price that a peasant can afford. They'll bum anything."
"Excellent! It's getting to be a long walk for firewood, and the peasants will see the need for coal. You will
be able to show my people the way of digging this mine?" He took my rook and knight in rapid succession.
All I got out of it was his bishop.
"Of course, my lord."
"Then it's settled. I'll have work speeded up on the grain mill. It should be done by spring, so have your
plans ready right after spring planting."
"Another thing I wanted to discuss with you. I like that blacksmith you sent me. I don't think he's as good
as Ilya, but he doesn't make me mad enough to kill twice a day. What say I trade you, Ilya for the new
man?" I lost my queen.
"Fine by me, my lord, if both men are willing."
"They are. It was them that brought the matter up to me. They also both wanted to leave Ilya's wife here,
but I don't see how we can allow that, The Church would not be pleased, and it's never been too happy with
me."
"The Church is not pleased because you are separated from your wife, my lord. Why can't you grant the
same privilege to Ilya?"
"Why? Because I'm a nobleman and he's a commoner, that's why! The commons don't have the brains or
the ability to regulate their own lives properly. That's why they serve us, and why we serve them. I may not
be the pillar of marital fidelity, but my wife has not taken another husband and I have not taken another
wife. What these smiths are proposing is nothing less than that the one should step into the bed of the other!
That is clearly against the laws of the Church. Without the influence of the Church and Christian morality,
we'd have nothing but chaos on our hands! The Church must be maintained and its laws enforced!"
"I suppose you're right, my lord. Well, what's a few more mouths to feed?" I lost my last knight and my
position was terrible. I knocked over my king. I had lost two out of two. Damn. When we first started
playing, a year ago, I'd won the first two dozen games.
"Good. Then shall we go make an appearance at the festivities?"
They started the gift-giving when we returned. The gambling pot I'd won in the course of surviving my
Trial by Combat had a fair amount of jewelry in it, which made gift-giving pretty simple. I started with
those nobles least important to me, Sir Vladimir's sister and her husband who had come down from
Gneizno. I'd never met them before and would likely never see them again, so a small gift was appropriate.
I took out a sack of my least valuable jewelry, poured it on a tray and asked each to choose what he or she
wanted. They were delighted.
As I went up my guest list, I periodically noted when the pile was growing small and added another sack of
jewels, a step up from the first batch, but nobody knew that but me. My own ladies were near the end, and
after Annastashia took her choice, I added to it the purse of silver I had denied her a few days before.
"I hear you've been acting properly, daughter!" I said, and the crowd cheered. The rumor was out that she
had thrown Sir Vladimir out of her bed once I'd adopted her and she was no longer a peasant wench.
I'd saved Count Lambert's priest, Father John, and his magnificent French wife until the end. Lady Francine
was easily the most beautiful woman I had seen in this century. She chose a heavy gold pendant and chain
with some sort of green stone in it. It might have been an emerald, but who could tell? It was polished
smooth and glassy, since the cutting of facets hadn't been invented yet.
"Father John, last year I was ignorant of local customs and didn't realize that I owed you a gift, so the best I
could do at the time was a poor one. This year, I notice that your altar furnishings could use some
improvement. Would this be acceptable?"
I held up one of the stranger things I'd found in my booty from the Crossmen, a large and ornate glass
goblet. The crowd's reaction surprised me. Gold and silver jewelry they had taken in their stride, but a piece
of glass got a chorus of "oohs" and "aahs."
Father John stood up. "Last year I gave you some of my carvings. This Christmas I hadn't expected to see
you alive! The truth is that I have nothing to give you in return!" The crowd laughed.
"Well, you won't get off that light!" I said. "We've just built a big church at Three Walls that is bare of all
carving. I'll take it out in trade!" The crowd was in a good mood.
The other nobles distributed their gifts. I collected quite a lot of nicely embroidered garments, and Sir
Vladimir and his brothers had clubbed up to buy me a magnificent goldhandled dagger, with all sorts of
stone and inlay work.
Count Lambert's gift to me was to publicly appoint me his Master of the Hunt, a job that I didn't want. I
tried to take it with good grace.
After most of the gift-giving was over, I stood up again. "I'm going back to Three Walls after the wedding.
I won't be here for Twelfth Night, when one gifts the members of the opposite class, so I have to give my
gifts to the residents of Okoitz early. Bring it in!" Four men rolled in two heavy barrels.
"Last year, Ilya promised to make each of you a set of door hinges. Then I kept him busy all year long
working on my projects, and now I'm stealing him from you!" Ilya looked surprised. This was the first he'd
heard of my approval of his permanent move to Three Walls. "In those barrels is a set of brass hinges and a
brass door latch for every commoner's door in Okoitz-no longer will you close your doors by lifting them
into place!" That brought down the house!
When the noise stopped, I said, "What's more, I'm going to be rude enough to hint at what I want for my
present! You remember all those seeds I gave you last Christmas? Well, I want them back!"
"If you can't do that, then give me about a quarter of your new seeds! And I'd like you to loan me the
packages they came in, so I'll know what's what!" They all laughed and cheered again, so I expected that
we'd have watermelon next year.
As things were winding down and I was leaving, Count Lambert half jokingly said, "You gave the priest
that magnificent goblet and I only got this gold chain?"
I was dumbstruck. That chain weighed half a kilo! It was probably worth eight thousand American dollars!
"I didn't realize that you wanted the goblet, my lord. But I'll make you a promise. In four years, I'll gift you
with a hundred glass goblets, and enough glassware so that every man below you, commoners and all, can
toast you with it!"
It was his turn to be dumbstruck.
Chapter Two
The next day we had a beautiful wedding. Everything went off nicely, the church was packed and I gave
the bride to a beaming Sir Vladimir.
As father of the bride, I paid for the wedding feast, which also was held in the cloth factory for lack of
anything else large enough. Lambert gave me a good price on the food and drink, since if it wasn't for the
wedding, he would have had to put on a feast that day anyway. It was the Christmas season.
The honeymoon trip wasn't then a local custom, so the next morning we went back toward Three Walls, Sir
Vladimir and his new wife included. We got as far as Sir Miesko's, where they were ready for us.
After the workers were settled into the copious hay of Sir Miesko's biggest barn, we sat down to dinner in
the manor. At his suggestion, since seven more places were available once Sir Miesko's family and my
party were seated, I invited in my bailiff, my two foremen and their wives, and my accountant, Piotr.
These people were awestruck at the honor done them, and scarcely said a word as supper started, although
Piotr kept glancing at Krystyana, who was sitting across from him. The poor kid was still smitten.
I told Sir Miesko about Count Lambert's plan for the Great Hunt. I also told him that I really didn't want to
get much involved with it, but that Count Lambert had insisted. "What I'm building up to is that I would
like you to do the job for me. Would you like to be my deputy? Count Lambert said that we could take as
our portion pretty much whatever we wanted. Do you think you might be interested?"
"I might. Even a small share of the take from all of Count Lambert's lands would be vast! Consider what
was harvested from your lands alone! But there are details to be considered. .."
We were soon into a deep conversation, with Lady Richeza and Krystyana sitting between us. These two
fine and understanding women looked at each other, got up, and sat back down once Sir Miesko and I had
scooted close together. The conversation never broke and not a word was said about the new table
arrangement.
The deal we made was that Sir Miesko would take complete charge of the project in all but name. He
would divide the county into eight or nine hunting districts, and appoint a district master for each. The
district masters would be responsible for building an enclosure if something suitable wasn't already
available, seeing that everything was properly arranged and feeding the people participating. In return for
this they would get all the deer skins taken in their district.
Peasants participating would divide one-quarter of the meat between them, and the nobles there would get
another quarter. The landowners would get half the meat, proportioned according to their areas. Sir Miesko
would get all the furs taken, except for the wolf skins, which were to be mine. I also got any aurochs
captured, to be delivered live to me. They were an endangered species and I meant to domesticate them.
"Sir Conrad, you're taking the short end of the stick!" Sir Miesko said. It's interesting that he used an
expression that has lasted to modem times. The local custom among these largely illiterate people was to
account for debts by cutting notches into a stick. If I lent you three pigs, we would cut three notches into a
stick of wood. Then we would split the stick about in half, down the middle of the notches, so we each had
a record. When the sticks were put back together again, it would be obvious if either of us had done further
whittling! Wood never splits evenly. and as the lender, the creditor, I got the larger stick of wood and
became the stickholder. You, as the borrower, got the short end of the stick.
"I'm satisfied with the deal as it stands."
"Be that as it may, Sir Conrad, wolf skins aren't worth much. Half the time they're burned along with the
rest of the animal! The other furs will be worth a thousand times as much."
"Fine. You'll be doing all the work and bearing all the expenses. I'm happy just to get the whole project off
my shoulders. Just remember to stress that all the females and young of useful species, along with one-sixth
of the males, are to be spared."
"That much is obvious, once you've explained it. But you've been given a gift and I've taken it from you."
"I said I was happy. Just try not to get me in trouble, okay?"
"Rest assured of that. But I don't think my trouble or expenses will be large. I need only write a few dozen
letters. It will cost me nothing to send them since every landowner in the county, or at least their men,
comes by here monthly to deliver food for your city at Three Walls."
"What? I thought that you were providing our food."
"I am. You asked me to keep you supplied and we agreed on prices. Surely you don't think that the hundred
farmers I have here could feed the almost thousand folk you have in your valley! I mentioned your needs
and your prices to my fellow noblemen, and they have delivered their surplus grains here, for pickup by
your people."
"I have paid the others precisely what I have charged you, so I have made no immoral profit. I have
charged them reasonable rates for fodder for their pack animals and storage in my barns, but surely you
can't complain about that."
I was surprised, but I didn't have a legitimate bitch. I was getting what I had agreed on.
"No, no, Sir Miesko, I have no complaint. I simply had never thought it out. I owe you thanks for supplying
my needs without bothering me with details. I hope this will be a precedent for the Great Hunt."
While we were talking, the party went on around us. Sir Miesko's wife, Lady Richeza, is the most gracious
woman imaginable. Warm and caring, she was working my awkward subordinates into the conversation.
By the time I was back into it, they were all talking boisterously about recent events. Soon she summoned
her musicians and we were all dancing.
I noticed that little Piotr Kulcyznski asked Krystyana to dance a waltz, and she turned him down. He soon
went outside, and Lady Richeza followed. As things were breaking up, she came to me. "That poor boy
truly loves Krystyana."
"I know. It hurts me to see his pain. But she won't even look at him! That little kid is brilliant! With a
proper education he'd be a Nobel prize winner."
"And what is that?"
"Where I come from, there is a yearly set of prizes given to those who are judged to have made the greatest
contributions to an understanding of the world around us, and the greatest contributions to literature,
medicine, and peace. To win one of these is a greater honor than to, say, be the chief administrator of the
United Nations. It also pays well. With training, I think Piotr could win the prize in mathematics."
"Yours must be a wondrous land."
"There is much good about it, but also much bad. This land has much to be said for it."
"Yet you came here."
"It wasn't exactly voluntary. Still, I can't say that I regret it. I think I've found a home here."
"A home with Krystyana?"
"No. Please understand that I like Krystyana. She's a fine girl, an intelligent girl and competent at whatever
she sets her mind to. And-I hope you aren't offended by my saying this-she's a wonderful bed partner. But,
dammit, she's fifteen and I'm thirty-one! I've had seventeen years of formal schooling and she's had about
three months! There's too big a gap between us to consider marriage. Marriage should be a thing between
equals. Krystyana and Piotr and I would all be better off if they would get together."
"Do they know your feelings about this?"
"I think so. I've tried to be obvious about it."
"But you haven't actually talked with them about it," she said.
"No, I guess I haven't. Sometimes it's hard..."
"Would you object if I talked to them?"
"Object? I'd be forever grateful!"
"Then I will see what I can do."
She tried, but nothing came of it.
The next day we were back in Three Walls, and the day after was a normal working day. The country folk
knocked off work for two weeks around Christmas, but the people at Three Walls had mostly been
recruited from a city. City folk worked whenever work was available, and there was plenty for us to do.
Winter is the best time of the year for logging, the wood is drier and the logs are easier to move around on
the snow. Also, the tops of the fir trees were about the only fodder the outdoor animals were going to get.
Besides the six dozen bucks left over from the fall's hunt, we had a thousand sheep in the valley. All of
them ewes.
I got a lot of ribbing about that, the gist of which was that I didn't know that rams were needed to make
little sheep, but I didn't care. I happened to remember that sheep have a five-month gestation period. Any
ewe you buy in December is pregnant if she's going to be. And sheep are sexually mature in six months.
Next year we'd have plenty of rams. I think.
Well, I had one ram in another, much smaller herd. If he fell over dead from exhaustion next breeding
season, I'd have to buy some more in a hurry.
We kept the sawmill going all winter, with sixty women walking back and forth on that huge teeter-totter.
The main wooden buildings were up, but we needed lumber for furnishings.. shipping containers, barrels,
and so on.
Some construction went on as well. The coke ovens were drylaid sandstone, so there wasn't any worry
about mortar freezing. But putting in foundations was difficult.
The big problem was the lack of decent artificial light. By Christmas, we were down to about six hours of
daylight. Most Americans don't realize just how far north Europe is. Southern Poland is farther north than
Lake Superior, and our seacoast is farther north than the shores of Hudson Bay. A high latitude means a
large yearly variation in the length of the day.
Mining went on continuously, of course: it was always dark down there. It was also fairly warm in the
mine, and coal mining came to be the job everybody was trying to get. I hoped that Count Lambert
wouldn't hear about it.
But even when the weather was good, which wasn't all that often, we were lucky to spend seven hours a
day working.
Well, if you can't spend, invest!
I set up a school for the adults. A school for the children was already being taught by two of Lady Richeza's
women, so once the children's school was out, the adults took over. Most of my people couldn't read, write,
or do simple arithmetic.
By spring they could. That's not quite the accomplishment that it sounds, because Polish is an easier
language to learn than English. Polish is absolutely phonetic in its spelling, rather than nearly random as
English is. Every letter has a distinct sound, and there are no silent letters. You spell it exactly as you speak
it. Learning to spell in English gave me nightmares.
Many Americans who write use spellchecking programs in their personal computers, since the English-
speaking peoples can rarely spell their own language. When I got back to Poland after my college days,
none of my Polish friends would believe me when I told them this. They thought that I was telling an ethnic
joke!
But we had enough people around who could teach arithmetic and reading. Aside from monitoring things,
teaching a course in first aid, and tutoring Piotr in math,
I had a fair amount of time to myself, which was wonderful.
I could close the door of my new office, sit down on my new armchair, put my feet up on my nice new desk
and do some serious thinking. Mostly about standards. The weights and measures of the Middle Ages were
a vast agglomeration of random events. Length was measured in feet, yards, cubits, spans, hands, fingers,
miles, and days. Not only was there no agreed-on relationship between those units, but the size of the unit
varied from place to place. A Cieszyn yard was not equal to a Cracow yard which was not equal to a
Wroclaw yard.
It even varied from commodity to commodity. Fine velvets, for example, were sold by the Troy yard,
which was shorter than all of the above. And these weren't minor differences of a few percent. The
Wroclaw yard was half again longer than the Cracow yard.
Weights were in even worse shape. Cheese, wheat, and oats were all sold by the quarter, for example. A
quarter of what, you ask? Why a quarter of cheese, wheat, or oats! There was no "whole" or "half." But a
quarter of wheat was more than five times larger than a quarter of cheese, which was maybe a hundred
kilos. And a quarter of oats was bigger than both of the others put together. And of course a quarter in one
city was not equal to a quarter anyplace else.
Well, a pint of milk weighed a pound, but milk is the stupidest standard possible. The specific gravity of
milk varies by at least five percent, with the richest milk being the lightest. It spoils quickly, so there is no
possibility of having a standard jar of milk somewhere. Yet this didn't seem to bother anybody but me. Of
course, if a merchant sold short weight, he might get hung, but you never got any complaints out of him
after that.
The Church had been working on calendar reform for a century, and things in Poland were not really
absurd. At least we all agreed on which day was Sunday and what year it was. From what a merchant
friend, Boris Novacek, tells me, in Italy it is possible to leave Venice in 1232, get to Florence in 1233, then
go to Milan in 123 1.
Some people started the new year on Christmas, some a week later, and some on March first. For them,
December really was the tenth month.
Well, we had a standard yard. Given my own choice, I would have preferred to use a meter, but my liege
lord had specifically ordered me to use his yard, the distance from his fingertip to his turned-away nose.
This was shorter than a meter and slightly longer than the American yard.
And we had a base-twelve numbering system. This was something that was sort of done to me at first, but I
soon saw the advantages of the duodecimal system. Since twelve has more factors than ten, you run into
infinitely repeating decimals less often. It often takes fewer digits to express large numbers and math just
becomes easier to do.
Since last winter, I had been carefully copying down every constant I could remember, and already I had
several pages of them. The distance from the Earth to the Moon and to the Sun. The specific gravity of
aluminum and how many centimeters to the American yard and all sorts of things. An engineer needs
thousands of numbers, and much of what I did not remember, I could interpolate.
摘要：

TheRadiantWarriorBook3oftheAdventuresofConradStarguardByLeoFrankowskiPrologueSheunloadedthetemporalcanister,glancedquicklyathernewsubordinate,loadeditwithherlastsuperior,andsentittwoandahalfmillionyearsuptime.Onecontacteveryfiftyyearsandthatforonlyafewseconds.Lifethisfarbackwasabitch.Thenewarrivalwa...

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