"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."