Conrad's Quest for Rubber

by Leo Frankowski

  "I hope that she's as good at guarding you as she is at car­rying around furniture. You're going to need her services, es­pecially after this last foolish stunt of yours. If the Germans can't get rid of you by ordinary military means, you know they will try all of the other possibilities. Do you have a food taster? You should, you know."

  "When I'm in the field, I eat from the same pots that my men do, and I never stand first in line. At home, what meals I don't eat in the cafeterias are cooked for me by the ladies of my own household, and they're always tasting things while they're cooking. So far, there hasn't been a problem, Henryk."

  "I shall pray to God that it stays that way. For your part, you might want to put on a few good food inspectors. The people who hate us aren't above poisoning a few thousand people if it means killing you with them. The Big People have a remarkable sense of smell, you know. It might be worth­while having one of them sniff over all the foodstuffs coming in, as well as all that is set on your table. It's what I do."

  "An excellent suggestion, Henryk. I'll act on it. Better still, Maude, what is your sense of smell like? Is it as good as that of the Big People?"

  "Yes, your grace."

  "Can you tell if food has been poisoned?"

  "Yes. All ordinary poisons. The only really dangerous poisons commonly known in Europe come from certain mushrooms."

  "Interesting. Thank you. From now on, part of your job will be to smell my food, any food that is put on the table, for that matter, before I eat it. And when we get back, tell the ac­countants to raise your pay to eight pence a day."

  "Yes."

  "Conrad, are we going to be seeing thousands of these at­tractive creatures growing up around your estates?" Henryk asked.

  "I really don't know. I haven't thought it out yet, but I think perhaps not. It doesn't feel right, somehow, but I'm not quite sure why."

  "Let me know when you decide. Remember that my father was killed by one of his own guards. I think that I'd rather like to have a few like her guarding my back, if she's as honest as a Big Person and as trustworthy."

  "I'm sure she is, Henryk, but still, I hesitate. I think per­haps that her sort are actually better people than we humans are. What is our moral position if we are giving orders to our moral superiors?"

  "What, indeed?"

  "The problem isn't as obvious with the Big People, be­cause they look like horses, and you constantly have to re­mind yourself that they're not animals. Maude looks like a woman, and I can't help thinking about her as though she was a human woman. For example, I knew intellectually that she was far tougher than I was, and thus was actually much safer, but I was nonetheless as nervous as a mouse during the battle, thinking about her being in danger, right behind me.

  "Should there be more like her? If there were, should we be giving them orders? Would we be giving them orders? Or might they decide that we humans are so degenerate that they should take charge for our own good?"

  "I see what is bothering you, and I'm glad that I don't have to make the decision. Ponder long before you do anything, Conrad. Concerning more pressing matters, what am I to do when the emperor complains about this last little affair of yours?"

  "Simple. You tell him that it was unfortunate that one of his subordinates was so foolish as to attack one of your sub­ordinates, but since you are in a forgiving mood, you won't be demanding further reparations. You may also tell him that the score on the battlefield was six thousand for you and zero for him. And tell him that he can come and have another romp with us, whenever he's inclined. He won't take you up on it."

  "At this point, I suppose that it is the only tactic that could work. You know, when I heard that the margrave was still hanging naked outside the town, I sent men to have him cut down. They returned to say that the corpse had already done that for itself. It seems that he was so fat that his body actu­ally pulled loose from his head, like a pinch of bread dough being pulled off. I'm having coffins made for those seven men. Would you have their clothes sent to my camp? I want to send their bodies back to their families in the best shape possible."

  "I'll see to it, Henryk."

  "Thank you. Now, the last order of business is this counter-invasion that you have planned. Do you really think this is wise?"

  "I think that it is necessary. When a puppy makes a mess on the floor, you have to rub his nose in it so he knows what he did wrong, and then you have to swat him, to punish him, or he'll do it again. Without the swat, he might even get to liking shit on his nose! Anyway, the margrave's lands have been in Slavic hands since time immemorial. The people on the land are not exactly Polish, but they are closer to us than to anyone else around. They have been under the German's thumb for about a hundred years now. They deserve their freedom."

  "Conrad, when you start using words like 'freedom,' there is no reasoning with you. Any further conversation on the sub­ject would simply be a waste of the breath God gave us. Do what you will, and I'll try to sweep up your mess, politically."

  "You know that you enjoy it. What say that you and your people come with me and my forces as we take possession of our new province? That way, you could see to it that every­thing was done to your satisfaction."

  "Yes, that would be for the best, Conrad. Let us know when you'll be leaving."

  "With pleasure. Good night, your majesty."

  Later that night, sitting around a small fire, I got out my recorder and played a few simple tunes for Maude. She was very surprised. She said that she had never seen people make music before. She had often heard music, but it had always been made by a machine. I was mystified, and wondered what sort of machine could play a recorder. I could imagine a machine beating a drum, but not, say, a violin, or a trumpet. But I let it pass and played some more for my love.

  She said she liked it, and soon was standing and swaying, naked as always, in time with the music. After a while, seeing that I was watching her with pleasure, she slowly began to dance, with a beautiful, flowing sort of motion I had never seen a person use before. Some of the knights from the Wolves camp nearby were as fascinated as I was and came over to watch. Most people play some sort of musical instru­ment, and a few of the watchers brought drums, strings, and woodwinds to contribute what they could. Still others used whatever was available to tap and keep the strong beat.

  Someone started playing a violin to a slightly faster beat, and I turned and recognized him to be Komander Wladyclaw. The drums picked it up, and the rest of us quickly joined in.

  Maude's dancing sped up as well, and she began to add graceful skips and spins to her dance. Seeing that her poise and prowess were up to something fast, the violinist made the song beat faster yet, and what had begun as a simple shep­herd's tune was becoming something that might be heard from a Gypsy camp!

  Again Maude's dance stayed with the increased tempo, whirling around the campfire, adding leaps and flying spins that seemed too fast to be real! She would leap into the air, and seem almost to hover there for a time while spinning. She was at once as free as a forest butterfly, as pure as a child, and as erotic as is possible for a woman to be.

  More of our troops were coming to the fire to see what was happening, and staying once they did. There must have been six dozen of them by then.

  The komander took the beat faster yet, and still Maude kept up with it, leaping higher than any of her audience would have thought possible, with her feet higher than a tall man's head, and her head far above that. Yet she gave no sign that this was some athletic thing she was doing, but rather an artistic one, for it was not the feat itself, but the beauty of the thing that was important.

  Komander Wladyclaw glanced at me, asking if we dared to take it faster, and I gave him a quick shake of my head. No one could possibly dance like this for long, and I was beginning to worry about my darling love. We did a few bars to bring things to an ending, and Maude went into an elaborate spin and bow.

  The crowd exploded with applause, a wild shout that was heard for miles a
nd went on forever while Maude scampered back to my side. I was surprised to see that she wasn't even breathing heavily.

  The komander stood and formally bowed to Maude, some­thing I'd never seen a nobleman do for a girl around a camp-fire before. The feeling was unanimous, for every single man there, your narrator included, well over a gross of us, stood and bowed to her as well.

  Maude at first nodded acceptance of this praise, but then, deciding that something more was required, she stood and made an elaborate curtsy and bow back.

  The komander asked, "My gracious lady, could we beg you for a repeat performance?"

  Maude looked up at me, and I said that she had not danced for a long while, but that perhaps we could hope for another show tomorrow.

  The truth was, her dance was erotic, and I was so aroused that my strongest—only—desire was to get Maude alone in the tent with me.

  If the other knights were disappointed, they were also understanding.

  Much later, Maude said, "They trained me to be an enter­tainer, but Tom was never interested in watching me. Did my dance please you?"

  My first thought was that this Tom must be an incredible ass, but I didn't say it.

  I told her that it was the most unbelievably beautiful thing I had ever seen, that she was now the darling of the Wolves, and probably the rest of the army as well. If she ever wanted to cease being a bodyguard, there was a career waiting for her in dancing.

  "I could quit being a bodyguard?"

  I said that of course she could. There was no slavery in Poland. This was the land of the free. She was a free person, and she could do whatever she wanted to do.

  She took a while to consider this, and then said, "No. I will continue as I am."

  I said that this was good and held her close to me. Watching all of the other men looking at her with admiration and even open lust in their eyes, I realized that she could easily have almost any man she wanted. It chilled me to think how easily I could lose her.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  FROM THE JOURNAL OF JOSIP SOBIESKI

  WRITTEN JANUARY 17, 1250

  CONCERNING JUNE 5, 1249

  IN THE morning, after mass and the recitation of our Army Oath, Maude and I breakfasted, and I armed myself. Since I felt there was no possibility of any fighting taking place, I left off my leg armor. The combination of wearing infantry armor and riding in a saddle for two days had left parts of my poste­rior blistered where it wasn't bleeding.

  Lord Conrad noticed my less-than-complete uniform and asked me why I was breaking general combat orders during what was still, officially, an alert. When I explained, he or­dered that I see the battalion's armorers and get fitted for a set of the new cavalry armor.

  I found the armorers with nothing much to do that day, ex­cept to sort out battered, bloody enemy armor and decide what should be scrapped, what repaired, and what saved as souvenirs. Given the chance to do honest work, they all jumped at it, and soon I had a dozen of them working in my cause.

  They never let me leave their camp for more than a few minutes, as they took a set of standard heavy stampings from their storage boxes and cut, filed, and fitted them to my body.

  Three seamstresses were soon at work, taking the partially finished sections of a summer gambezon from storage. They were cut oversized, with only half the seams sewn. Soon they were trimming and sewing them into a new garment for me, to suit the armor. Small pieces of chain mail were sewn on, covering the armpits, the insides of the elbows, and the backs of the knees, where the armor plates could not protect me.

  I was surprised that I had no protection for my lower but­tocks and my privy members below the belt, but I was told that when mounted, the saddle would keep those parts protected.

  I said that my Big Person had not come with a saddle with that high of a cantle. Their response was to issue me a chit that got me a new, Wolves-style saddle, with built-in holsters for two submachine guns and a rifle.

  Nonetheless, I resolved that someday soon I would get myself an armored skirt to wear in case I had to fight on foot. If I had to, I'd pay for it myself!

  Most helmets have one piece that protects the top, back, and sides of the head, and a separate visor to protect the face. My new helm was just the opposite. The front, top, and sides were of a piece, and the back hinged up to let you in.

  By late afternoon, an astoundingly short period of time, I was gloriously arrayed in the latest style of personal protec­tion. They even found time to polish the plates, giving them the mirror finish so prized by the old nobility.

  I lacked only the panache of gray plumes worn by the Wolves to look like one of their number, and I found myself wondering where I might possibly buy some plumes of some other color. Perhaps red.

  I strutted proudly back to our tent, thinking that Maude might be impressed, but I was disappointed. She thought of wearing anything but one's own skin as being silly, smelly, and scratchy. Ah, well. You can't please everybody. I wasn't bothered. In all events, I thought that I looked beautiful.

  * * *

  One night I asked Maude how, just before the battle, she had managed to get from my lap to Silver's rump without my seeing her get there.

  "I jumped."

  I asked why I hadn't seen her move.

  "I jumped quickly, when you blinked. It's how you move in combat. You wait until people blink, or look in another di­rection, then you move quickly."

  I said that I was amazed.

  "Would you like me to demonstrate it for you?"

  I said that she could do it later. For now, it wasn't worth getting out of bed for.

  Looking at Maude, admiring the lovely curve of her hip, and flank, and breast, I mumbled something to myself about the Lilies of the Field. She heard me, and asked what I was talking about.

  I said, " 'And why take ye thought for raiment? Consider the lilies of the field, how they grow; they toil not, neither do they spin: And yet I say to you, That even Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like one of these.' " I told her that it was from Jesus Christ's Sermon on the Mount.

  I'm not a Bible scholar, but that one has always stuck in my head. And how could any young man resist the chance to impress his love?

  "Yes. That is exactly right. Christ would always know what is best. We should not care about our raiment," she said, and continued in her nudity.

  Maude had a perfect memory, and after that she would quote those verses of Matthew whenever anyone objected to her lack of coverings. When I said that she had to look at these words in context, she wouldn't consider it. Christ had spoken, He could not possibly be mistaken, and that was that.

  I began to understand the saying about how a little knowl­edge was a dangerous thing, and why the Church does not en­courage laymen to read the Bible.

  When I asked her to please not argue with the bishop about religion, she asked what a bishop was, and we were promptly into another long, one-sided conversation.

  FROM THE DIARY OF CONRAD STARGARD

  JUNE 5, 1249

  I spent the day preparing to invade a major part of the Holy Roman Empire. Ordering up six more battalions of infantry was the easy part. Harder was the fact that our infantry could not move efficiently without a railroad going where they wanted to go. You see, our equipment and tactics had all been designed with defending the country in mind. Until recently, very little work or thought had gone into offense.

  Units like the Wolves could go anywhere fast, as much as four gross miles a day, but we only had a single company of them.

  A platoon of men could pull their war cart six dozen miles a day when they were rolling on steel rails. With some men pulling and some men sleeping, they could go around the clock. Averaged out, they were much faster than the enemy's conventional cavalry.

  Put the same platoon on a good conventional road, and the best they could do was about two dozen miles, since it took all of them, pulling hard, to move the heavy thing on a dirt surface. There was no possibility of rolling aro
und the clock.

  The existing roads from Lubusz to Brandenburg were not very good, and in some sections it was doubtful if a single platoon could make a war cart move at all!

  We had to get our infantry into Brandenburg, and once there, we needed to give them some mobility.

  Then, we not only had to take and to occupy Brandenburg—an area of about six thousand square miles—we had to bring it into our system, and fast!

  If the conversion went quickly and smoothly, the bulk of the Slavic-speaking population would be eagerly on our side, and the former conquerors would be dispirited.

  If we let the German-speaking minority have time to organize itself, we could see factional fighting and guerrilla warfare for many years.

  Worse yet, in my old time line, Brandenburg had joined with Prussia to form the state that was the political basis of modern Germany and the cultural basis of the Nazi party. These were the people with the strutting jackboots, and the firm belief that all other peoples were subhuman, untermensch. I wanted to make sure that the thing didn't happen in this time line.

  Making Brandenburg a part of Poland meant bringing in our schools, with their general stores and their post offices. It meant bringing in our farming methods, our seeds, and our farm machinery. It meant bringing in our uniform measure­ment system, our monetary system, and our judicial system.

  All of which involved a lot of travel and transport.

  There was nothing for it but to build railroads. Lots of rail­roads. Quickly.

  What I was planning was to be one of the fastest construc­tion projects in army history. Everything else in the entire nation would be made subordinate to this single project. Every bit of materials and manpower, anything that could be of use, would be rushed to Lubusz. No matter what project had to be put on hold, no matter where else the materials were needed, no matter what the men would rather be doing, the new rail line to Brandenburg came first.

  Our existing rail lines were placed defensively, on the east bank of the Odra. A pontoon bridge would be thrown across the river at Lubusz, which would stay in business until a real, masonry bridge could be finished, or until the thaw next spring took it out.