Da Vinci's Cases Page 2

  "No, you're the one who's at fault!" replied Martino.

  "You thief!" complained Ludovico.

  "No, you're the thief, since these rags are in fact mine! They come from my district. You are free to look for you own area, but in this area you’re not welcome!"

  "You dog!" complained Ludovico.

  While Martino approached the cart, rummaged in the rags, he was looking at Leonardo and Carlo, who stood motionless.

  "Leonardo! Carlo!" cried Martino. "You are helping such a thief? Shame on you!"

  "He has claimed that he will help you and that he was on his way on your behalf!" said Leonardo.

  "What a liar he is! However, we could stop him before he could get paid from the paper miller." Martino turned his face again to Ludovico's direction. "I suppose you thought to get fast enough to Andrea’s mill if you would engage some unsuspecting boys for pushing! But you weren’t expecting us!"

  Martino grabbed Ludovico by the collar. But he resisted. He gave Martino a push and the next moment both fell to the ground, rolled over each other and fought each other. Ludovico gave Martino a beat and pushed him back roughly. Then he got to his feet and ran away as fast as his feet could carry him.

  "Let’s follow him!" exclaimed one of the men carrying a stick.

  But Martino shook his head. His nose was streaming with blood and so he needed a moment before he could speak. "Let him go! Important now is that the rags come to the mill."

  Meanwhile, Ludovico was stumbling and nearly went down to the ground. With difficulty he could stay on his feet. He staggered forward, turned half around and then farther rushed forward.

  "We really had no idea," declared Carlo.

  "I do believe you," said Martino. "But nevertheless, you can maybe help me." He turned to the others. "That goes for you, too! Anyone who helps me pull the cart, gets a copper coin when it’s finished! Cross your heart!"

  "We are your friends, Martino," one of the men replied indignantly. "But if you can afford it!" He pointed at the rags. "After all, the guy has indeed collected diligently – you must say that much for him!"

  "Yes – but unfortunately clothes that he had not been allowed to collect," growled Martino. "Seriously – I would be glad if all of you accompanied me to the paper mill – because who knows what this Ludovico can think of to get hold of the rags!"

  Powerfully, Leonardo and Carlo helped to bring the cart forward and the other men also took the opportunity to earn some money.

  Actually, Leonardo had assumed that the mill was very close.

  But in this case, he had greatly miscalculated. It took almost half an hour until they really reached the mill – and by there, they had to overcome several hills with fairly steep slopes. But as all of them powerfully helped and took turns, it went ahead very quickly.

  Finally, a watermill appeared far away. It was situated on the bank of the river Arno. Even from a distance a thumping, rattling sound could be heard.

  "This must be the rags pounder!" said Leonardo. Martino nodded. "Exactly! You've ever heard of it?"

  "Yes, my father is a notary and has written the purchasing contract for Andrea di Marco when he took over the mill," Leonardo said.

  "He told me about it."

  "Good old Andrea ... He has done exactly the right thing when transforming this corn mill into a paper mill," said Marino.

  "And God knows, if I had the money to afford a mill, then I would do that, too! It cannot fail! Since there is letter print, you can observe an increasing demand for paper every year!" Martino shrugged. "But for someone like me all I get is collecting rags."

  "You don’t have to complain, Martino!" said one of the men who had helped him by conquering back the rag cart from Ludovico. "You've got a good living – and a whole district at your own where you can collect rags! Not everyone has it as good as you!"

  The others murmured in agreement.

  The large mill wheel turned and drove on the pounder work through gears. Dozens of hammers pounded the rags until they had completely lost their structure.

  Andrea di Marco was a broad-shouldered man with a big belly and a black, bushy moustache.

  He was wearing a rather dirty apron and had a loud, booming voice, by which he kept the apprentices and journeymen working in the paper mill on the go.

  His face lit up when he saw the carts with rags.

  "What do my eyes see? A whole load of rags! So many that they almost fall off the cart! I was already afraid that within two days, I would have to stop production temporarily simply due to the lack of raw material! But you saved me, Martino!" Benevolently, he knocked Martino on the shoulder and then looked at his friends and the two boys. "But you have had so many helpers, as I see. I do not know why the other collectors do bring me so little recently... And you're later than normally, aren’t you."

  "It’s becoming, indeed, more and more difficult to get enough rags!" Martino said. "In small villages, simple people live who are not able to buy new clothes every year and to throw the old ones away!"

  "Yes, yes, you're right," nodded Andrea di Marco. "Everybody says that it becomes more difficult – and if you consider that I have told my great-grandfather, how even rich people inherited their clothes because they were so precious, then it is hard to imagine that people have enough rags at all."

  "Why don’t you take a cheaper raw material, Master Andrea?" Leonardo spoke up.

  Andrea di Marco put his strong arms on his hips and looked at the boy, frowning.

  "What kind of cheeky boy are you?" he asked. "Such a kid and you think you understand anything of papermaking, you little know-all?"

  Leonardo bowed slightly and replied: "My name is Leonardo da Vinci ..."

  Master Andrea loudly laughed out. "Leonardo from the village of Vinci – I am absolutely impressed," he scoffed.

  "You should not underestimate him," Martino threw in. "He is the son of the notary Ser Piero D'Antonio, who prepared the contract for your mill!"

  "Ah," Master Andrea murmured, and now he seemed to be clearly embarrassed that he had made such fun of Leonardo. "No offense, but whether one could not produce paper out of cheaper materials paper, many adults have already been racking their brains about – and haven’t come to a reasonable result so far."

  "Why don’t you just take wood, Master Andrea?" asked Leonardo.

  "Of all materials, why do you think of wood, boy?"

  "Because wasps do produce a substance very similar to paper mash by using wood and make their nests with it. Why should not that also be possible for humans? Definitely, wood is easier to obtain than rags. You have to hack it anyway in order to make a fibrous mash – so it does no depends on the quality and maybe, you could even get the sawdust and other waste from the joinery free of charge!"

  "A strange idea, my boy ... Now I suggest first that the rags will be carried into the mill!"

  Chapter 3: The Watermark of the Medici

  Everyone gathered a pile of rags from the cart to carry it into the mill. Leonardo and Carlo also took part in it. Master Andrea di Marco led them inside the mill. In a large vat they unloaded the rags. This vat was filled with water about an inch high, so that the water was fully absorbed by the rags, gradually. Leonardo let his eyes wander through the mill. An indescribable noise reigned here, which was mainly caused by the rags pounder. The wheels turned creaking, making the hammer-like wooden prongs whiz down on the rags so that they were crushed, slowly but surely.

  Not a hundred people would have had enough strength and endurance to move the wheels permanently. But the force of the river was enough to do so. Using a large bucket it was transferred to the rags pounder.

  Gradually, the trampled rags were transformed to a moist, milky pulp that could be processed now furthermore. All the things Leonardo saw here, he had heard about, but it was the first time that he was really joining in.

  A scoop journeyman dipped a sieve in the pulp and picked it up and handed it to the “Gautscher” who, later on, would dissolve th
e resulting sheet from the frame of the sieve, and put it on a piece of felt. Then another piece of felt was put on it and then the next sheet followed. This went on until they had a tall stack together. The felt served to absorb the water out of the paper. But this was not enough to dry the sheets thoroughly. In order to obtain this aim, the whole stack – called “pauscht” – was put into a screw press, which looked like a giant vise. There, the last rest of moisture was forced out. After having done this, one sheet following another was dipped into a bath of animal glue. Otherwise, the paper would be immediately torn if someone scratched with a pointed pen or pencil over the surface a little bit more firmly.

  Finally, once again the paper sheets were then, each one separately, suspended to dry and smoothed. During this process, the misshaped sheets were sorted out, too.

  Andrea di Marco paid Martino for the delivered rags – and Martino gave his helpers each a copper coin, as promised.

  "I barely earn anything," he moaned, and one of the men who had helped him to take away the cart from the illegitimate ragman, tapped him on the shoulder and said: "But you have defended your own rags district and thus, you get your livelihood for the future!"

  But Martino was there less confident. "Just wait, the rags will become so scarce that finally, people like us will be forced to steal the clothes from the line!"

  Leonardo now turned to Master Andrea, holding up his copper coin. "How much paper do I get with this?" he asked. Andrea smiled. "You want to buy paper from me? I'm afraid, for this you do not even get a single sheet!"

  "Why not? I know paper is valuable and currently also running short, but I really do not think you have permeated your papers with silver!"

  "Oh, don’t say that, boy!" replied Andrea. "I have already colored papers with saffron with my own hands because a fine lady from Florence wanted to write on yellow notepaper. And saffron is already almost as precious as silver ..."

  "Nevertheless! A few sheets I'll doubtless be able to purchase for my copper coin!" said Leonardo. "Scarcity or not! Of these ones, for example ..."

  Leonard took a sheet off of a pile, which had already been completed.

  "Attention!" Master Andrea cried beside himself. "Put it back! I hope you had clean fingers!"

  Leonardo was frightened because Master Andrea had approached him so violently. For a moment he stood paralyzed with terror. Master Andrea approached further and took away the sheet. Then he held it to the light. "Still appears to be in order!" he breathed a sigh of relief.

  "What's the matter with this paper?" asked Leonardo in astonishment.

  "We have produced it on behalf of the Medici Bank in Florence," said Master Andrea. Again, he held the paper slightly higher. "Do you see that watermark?"

  Leonardo saw an M, artistically ornate, shining through the paper. Below this, there were outlines that might show a fortified city. Probably Florence was meant.

  "That looks fantastic!" Leonardo exclaimed.

  "It is the watermark of the Medici family. And this paper is very special, even if it may not seem to be like this at first glance! Actually, it is determined for bills and promissory notes, issued by the Bank of the Medicis!"

  "My father told me that a promissory note of the Medici bank is as good as a bunch of silver coins!" said Leonardo. Merchants used these IOUs almost like money – having the advantage that these so-called bank notes did not weigh so much like a box with gold or silver coins and were easier to transport. Therefore, they were used by many merchants.

  Master Andrea nodded and put the sheet back on the stack.

  "Normally, we give our mill watermark to all the paper produced here. But the paper for the Medici Bank is an exception. After all, everybody holding a bill of this bank in his hands can examine, by looking at the watermark, if this promissory note may be genuine!"

  "Then, please, let me at least buy some of the sheets which are sorted out after drying, because they had failed!" Leonardo proposed. These sheets often weren’t even and therefore frayed. Sometimes holes were formed in the middle. And concerning the sheets of the Medici Bank it was, of course, particularly important that the watermark was clearly visible.

  "No, we need the old sheets, too. We put them back to the pulp of rags and process them once again!"

  "But, if I only bought a few from you – there wouldn’t be a breakdown of the production, would it?"

  Andrea sighed. "You still do not understand, boy! At the moment we can sell paper to nobody other than the Medici family! They have the preemption by contract!"

  Leonardo deeply sighed. "A contract that might be negotiated and written down by my father! Tough luck ..."

  One of the apprentices came along with a basket of reject-paper, which was simply not good enough to be used, due to various reasons. One sheet fell down out of the crowded basket and sailed to the ground. Andrea nudged Leonardo. "Take that one there ... Because of the cooperation with your father – and keep your copper coin! Keep it well for spending it on something else that you want!"

  "Thank you!"

  Leonardo had not to be told twice. He picked up the sheet of paper. It was frayed on the sides and the watermark of the Medici could only be seen very indistinctly. Leonardo folded the sheet and put it under his clothes.

  At this moment the door was rudely pushed.

  Masked figures invaded the mill. Weapons rattled, swords were drawn. Here and there you could also see crossbows and arquebuses. Those were simple rifles, also called arquebuses. The smell of a burning fuse penetrated the room. One of the intruders pulled at the large metal hook of his arquebus. The fuse on the front end of the hook thus got in contact with the powder and the next moment there was a deafening bang that even drowned the pounding of the rags pestle. Gunsmoke went through the mill and a candlestick which hung on a chain from the ceiling crashed to the ground. Carlo pulled Leonardo a bit to the side. There, where the boy had just been standing, the candlestick struck on the ground. The candles broke out of their holders and in the ceiling was a hole as large as a man's fist.

  "Do not move!" cried the shooter. He seemed to be the leader of the group, wearing a wide cloak, which almost reached to the ground. His face was as masked as the faces of his accomplices were: with a cloth that reached below his eyes. Since he had his leather cap deeply pulled over his forehead, only the eyes were visible.

  "Freeze, or there will be trouble again! But then, somebody will lose his head!" While the shooter could not shoot himself before he had his gun loaded cumbersome and also secured a new fuse on the hook especially – but there were two more masked among the invaders who were armed with arquebuses. Even at their weapons gleamed the fuses. It took one and a half to two minutes until such a sliver was scorched and faded. If you had not shot in that time, you had to attach a new piece of sliver on the hook and light it.

  "Come on, spread out!" cried the leader. His voice sounded hoarse and rough.

  "What do you want from me?" asked Andrea di Marco, whose face was as white as chalk.

  One of the other masked men – he was wearing a hat with plume – approached the rags pounder and kept the fellow throwing rags into it, the point of his sword to his throat. "Switch off!"

  The journeyman swallowed and pressed down a large lever. Thus, the gears of rags pumper were separated from the water wheel and the hammers stopped beating. It was finally quiet in the room.

  Everyone stared at the masked, spread in space. The leader pointed to the screw press and snapped his hands. One of the other two arquebusiers came along and pointed his weapon at the appliance. The apprentices who had just squeezed another stack of freshly scooped paper and felt pads, drew back fearfully.

  "One shot into the screw press and you have to stop your production for a long time!" shouted the man with the plumed hat, laughing spitefully.

  Andrea di Marco shook his head. Addressed to the leader he begged: “Please not! Then we cannot fulfill our contracts and they will demand compensation from me!"

  "We w
ant the watermark form of the Medici!" demanded the leader. "Come on, Master, give it to me! Just fifty heartbeats more and my friend over there will fire the arquebus before the fuse goes out!"

  For a moment there was silence.

  Andrea turned to the journeymen at the scooping basin.

  "Give it to him!" he said.

  The watermark forms were made of wire. They laid in the scoop sieve and ensured that there, where the wire was, the paper got thinner at the end. If you then held the sheet into the light, the watermark was visible.

  "Come on, Matteo, what are you waiting for!" Andrea hissed to one of the journeymen. The addressed raised his sieve and took out the watermark form. He stretched out his arm and one of the masked ripped it out of his hand. Then, it was passed on to the leader.

  But he just threw the form on the ground, angrily. "I do not want the watermark the Medici family decorates her stationery with, but the other one ... The special one ... you know: That one, on which the notes and debentures are issued! Get a move on!"

  At this moment the shot of the arquebus crashed and drove into the screw press. Wood splintered.

  "Don’t!" screamed Andrea.

  "We will even destroy the gears driving the rags pounder!" the leader announced.

  "Give him what he asks for," Andrea said, whose face had now lost all color.

  But none of the apprentices and journeymen moved.

  So Andrea himself went to the scoop pool, took the form of wire from one of the screens out and handed it over to the leader.

  "Just in time!" laughed the third arquebus shooter, wetted thumb and forefinger and extinguished the fuse of his weapon with the spittle.

  "Now let's get out here!" shouted the leader.

  One of his accomplices stabbed with his sword a few rags out of the rags tub. "We should wrap this form, so it is protected and does not bend!"

  As quickly as they had come, the men disappeared from the mill. As the door clicked shut behind them, the neighing of horses could be heard. And voices. Obviously a few men had been waiting outside, whose job was it to take care of the horses.