Martin was curious. What did Hennel have in mind? Why did he need a skilled thief? No. A skilled almost thief. "What are we going to be doing? I hope it involves getting some money. My pouch is empty."
"Well, first we'll eat. Then we'll see about making some money," Jorg answered as they walked down the street.
They were soon in the more prosperous part of the city. The buildings weren't as run down and the taverns had brightly painted signs. Jorg pointed to a busy tavern. "How about the Laughing Boar for breakfast? Since it's next to a bakery, they should have fresh bread."
Martin was taken aback. "Jorg, it's also next to the city watch headquarters. There are always watchmen stopping in."
"So? Have you forgotten that you're no longer a would-be thief? The watch has better things to do than to chase honest men."
Martin was unsure. The watchman might not know I am not a thief. Besides they do chase beggars. But he followed Jorg into the tavern.
Jorg surprised him by walking directly to the table where a watchman was seated. And not just any watchman. Martin recognized Captain Johan Frey, the commander of the watch.
Jorg seated himself on an unoccupied bench and waved for Martin to take a seat beside him. "Good morning, Captain Frey. I hope you are enjoying your well-earned breakfast. I'd like to introduce Meurer, my new associate."
Martin could see that Captain Frey was studying his face. Was the man memorizing his looks, or just thinking? Finally he responded. "Hello, Martin. You look better than when I last saw you in the market. I see you lost your limp. Given up begging, have you?"
Before Martin could stumble through an answer, Jorg commented. "Martin has decided that there was no future in being a beggar and is too honest to be a thief."
The captain smiled. "So now he is another of your projects, Jorg?"
Jorg shrugged. "He shows promise. What I wanted to ask you was if you were done with that book I loaned you? I want Martin to read it."
Martin could feel the captain's eyes still studying him. Then the watch commander nodded, "Certainly I'm finished with it. It's over in the watch office. I think Watchman Weiss is reading it, though."
Jorg said, "No, let him finish it. I'll get another copy. Tell Weiss to pass that copy on. Now breakfast. How is the porridge this morning?"
****
Breakfast with the commander of the watch! Martin couldn't believe it, but it happened. The man even paid for Jorg and Martin!
Jorg's rule about no politics while eating held through out the meal. The only conversation was about Martin's life. What was there to tell? His mother had been a prostitute. She died and left him an orphan who never knew his father. Passed from relative to relative and some who weren't relatives. Small for his age, so there was no hope for work as a day laborer. Money for an apprenticeship hadn't even been a dream. His one try at being a cut-purse had failed. The roofs had been his way out of boredom. Then they had looked like his future. Now he was a failed thief.
But Jorg kept asking questions. It was a long meal; Martin wondered if he should go find Captain Frey and confess so he could be arrested.
Finally it was over. Jorg shoved his bowl away and nibbled a last crust of bread. "Now, Martin, ask your questions."
Martin laid the pamphlet on the table. "What does it mean? What are you working for?"
Jorg looked at him directly. "I am working for a dream; a dream of a perfect world. A world I don't expect to see, but one I see coming."
He touched Martin's shoulder. "I see a world where a poor man has the same standing before the law as a king. But in our world, the poor man is in chains of laws made by kings and nobles. I am working to make my dream become real; a world where all men are equal."
Martin picked up the pamphlet, "Is that what Paine meant by 'Natural Liberty'?"
"Of course. You notice that Paine said one honest man is worth more to society and in the sight of God, than all the crowned ruffians that ever lived. He could have been talking about our German nobles."
Martin thought for a moment. "You want to replace the nobles?"
"Not the good ones. Some nobles are even members of the committees. Not many, true. Most are more interested in their privileges than the lives of the people."
"So that is why you don't want me to steal from the poor?"
"Martin, I don't want you to steal from anyone, rich or poor. If you could steal from anyone's house in Suhl, who would it be?"
Martin thought. Who was the richest man in the city? "Rudolph Amberger. He's a councilman and rich."
Jorg smiled. "But he employs twenty-five apprentices and journeymen, not counting the teamsters and carters in his trade caravans. So, you would still be stealing from the poor. Besides, Amberger is working to improve conditions. He did favor allowing all residents, not just citizens, to vote in city elections. He lost, but he was in favor."
Jorg stood up. "Come on. We can talk while we walk. We're going to see Anton Bauer, the printer, and we can't be late."
"For more pamphlets?"
"That too, but mostly we need to earn some eating money. Anton's journeyman has left to open his own shop and the apprentices are too small to work the press. So you are going to help unload paper for the shop and I am going to apply some muscle to the press handle. Three days of meals if we get there on time."
****
The work wasn't the hardest thing Martin had ever done. Try hand-walking a house's eaves three stories above the street! But it did stretch muscles he didn't know he had. The pay wasn't the three days' meals that Jorg had promised either, only two, but the printer had given him his first real book. Jorg had said it was worth reading.
Besides, he had seen the inside of a print shop for the first time. He wondered if fourteen was too old to become an apprentice printer. Who would take him? How would he pay the fee?
Martin stopped and studied the title of the book again. The Social Contract or Principles of Political Right, written by some Frenchman named Jean-Jacques Rousseau.
Maybe there were some answers in it.
Two weeks later
Martin sat on the roof peak over the attic room where Jorg was meeting with his fellow committee members. The sun was just setting behind the house across the street. He was no longer running the roofs as a thief, but he still did his best thinking high above the stink and noise of the street. The ideas from the books and pamphlets he had been given to read were going round and round in his head. The Rousseau book had pride of place in his collection, but it was hard reading; someday he would finish it.
The idea that all men are by nature equally free and have certain inherent rights was easy to understand. All the writers said that. Of course, putting it into practice would be a problem. No noble or wealthy burger was going to give up their privileges or even believe that the poor were equal to them in the courts. And the concept that all power comes from the people was foreign to those same nobles. They thought God had given them their place in society. The very idea that the common people, even people like him, could have a voice in choosing a government would give them fits.
The voices from the room below caught Martin's attention. Jorg's meeting was breaking up. Martin's thoughts were pulled away from politics and back to his condition. Soon he and Jorg would go to dinner. Martin was hungry; he had spent the day in the hard physical labor of unloading charcoal at Johann Will's gun works. Working at a gun shop had been interesting, despite the labor involved. Between trips to the wagon for charcoal, Will had shown him how a master shaped metal and how to hammer rough parts into a finished weapon. Martin thought maybe he might like to become a gun maker instead of a printer.