The Rival Rigelians

Mayer suppressed his characteristic impatience. “Genoa, if you’ll pardon the use of this name to signify the world upon which we reside, will never advance until trade has been freed from these bandits who call themselves lords and barons.”

Eyebrows reached for hairlines.

Olderman’s eyes went quickly about the room, went to the doors. “Please,” he said. “The servants.”

“My servants are safe,” Mayer said.

However, several of his guests stirred in their chairs unhappily.

One of them was smiling without humor. “You seem to forget, Honorable Mayer, that I carry the title of baron.”

Amschel Mayer shook his head. “No, Baron Leonar. But neither do you disagree basically with what I say. The businessman, the merchant, the manufacturer on Genoa today, is only tolerated. He is a second-rate citizen of middle class. Were it not for the fact that the barons have no desire to eliminate such a profitable source of income, they would milk us dry overnight.”

Someone shrugged. “That is the way of things. We are fortunate to have wrested, bribed and begged as many favors and privileges from the lords as we have. Our twenty cities all have charters that protect us from complete ruin.”

“So long as they wish to continue to observe the charters,” Mayer snorted. “A whim might decide the Baron Mannerheim tomorrow to march on Bari. A sizeable donation to the Temple would guarantee its blessing, and the charter would be put aside, legally, on some obscure technicality.”

One of the guests said, “That is indeed possible. But what is your point, Honorable?”

Mayer twisted with a small boy’s excitement in his chair. “As of today, things begin to change. Jerry, that press.”

Jerry Kennedy left the room momentarily and returned with Martin Gunther and two of the servants. While the assembled merchants looked on, in puzzled silence, Mayer’s assistants set up the press and a stand holding two fonts of fourteen point type.

Jerry took up a printer’s stick and gave running instructions and description as he demonstrated. Gunther handed around pieces of the type until all had examined it, while his colleague set up several lines.

Kennedy transposed the lines to a chase, locked it up and placed the form to one side while he demonstrated inking the small press, which was operated by a foot pedal. He mounted the form in the press, took a score of sheets of paper and rapidly fed them, one by one with his right hand, removing them with his left. When they were all printed, he stopped pumping and Gunther handed the still wet, finished product around to the mystified audience.

Olderman stared down at the printed lines, scowling in concentration. He wet his lips in sudden comprehension.

But it was merchant Russ who blurted, “This will revolutionize the inscribing of books. Why, it can well take it out of the hands of the Temple! With such a machine I could make a hundred books—”

Mayer was beaming. “Not a hundred, Honorable, but a hundred thousand!”

The others stared at him as though he were demented. “A hundred thousand,” one said. “There are not that many literate persons on the continent.”

“There will be,” Mayer crowed. “This is but one of our levers to pry power from the barons. And here is another.” He tuned to Russ. “Honorable Russ, your city is noted for the fine quality of its steel, of the swords and armor you produce.”

Russ nodded. He was a small man, fantastically rich in his attire. “This is true, Honorable Mayer.”

Mayer said, tossing a small booklet to the other. “I have here the plans for a new method of making steel from pig iron. The principle involved is the oxidation of the impurities in the iron by blowing air through the molten metal.”

Amschel Mayer turned to still another, “And your town is noted for its fine textiles.” He looked to his assistants. “Jerry, you and Gunther bring in those models of the power loom and the spinning jenny.”

While they were gone, he said, “My intention is to assist you to speed up production. With this in mind, you’ll appreciate the automatic flying shuttle that we’ll now demonstrate.”

Kennedy and Gunther re-entered accompanied by four servants and a mass of equipment. Kennedy muttered to Amschel Mayer, “I feel like the instructor of a handicraft class.”

Half an hour later, Kennedy and Gunther wound up passing out pamphlets to the awed merchant guests. Kennedy said, “This booklet will give details on construction of the equipment and its operation.”

Mayer pursed his lips. “Your people will be able to assimilate only so fast, so we won’t push them. Later, you’ll be interested in introducing the mule spinning frame, among other items.”

He motioned for the servants to remove the printing press and textile machinery. “We now come to probably the most important of the devices I have to introduce to you today. Because of its size and weight, I’ve had constructed only a model. Jerry!”