Chapter 24: If Money Can Solve It, Then Let Money Solve It

When it came to the practical matters of manufacturing, Carlo was highly skilled.

To make paper, the first step was to set up a facility for processing flax in a place with abundant water flow. Conveniently, the Enza River provided just such an ideal location. Even in winter, the Enza's swift currents never froze, giving the paper mill a natural advantage.

As for the raw materials needed for papermaking, they were everywhere, covering the hillsides. The small pieces of wood stacked in the sheds were the best manufacturing materials.

“Get some men over here. Marco, bring your people and split this firewood, then soak it in the river. Make a net or dig a pit by the bank so the wood doesn’t get washed away.”

The light infantryman called over was utterly confused, but nevertheless, he gathered a few soldiers and did as Carlo instructed, tossing the wood into the river to soak.

Once finished, he came over to Carlo. “Sir, what exactly are we doing?” Marco asked in his rustic, muffled voice, the tone of a man born of the soil. “I figure if you leave wood in water, it’ll just rot, won’t it?”

“Just do as I say. I heard it from Leo myself.” Carlo deftly shifted responsibility; if anyone asked, it was always on Leo’s orders.

Upon hearing it was Leo’s instruction, Marco could only nod. If Leo, the boss, said so, he must have his reasons. He glanced back and saw Leo by the campfire, speaking with the duchess, who stood there still eating grilled fish.

“What I’m making is Andalusian paper, Your Grace. Have you heard of it?”

“No,” Matilda replied, shaking her head, not the least bit embarrassed by her ignorance. In her mind, she already possessed most things in this world by birthright. If there was truly something she hadn’t seen, it must have come from some hidden corner of the earth.

Whether such confidence was a virtue or a flaw for a ruler, no one could say.

“This paper is extremely useful, Your Grace. If it becomes widespread, it will be a tremendous boon to your rule.” Leo was still extolling the virtues of paper, pitching its benefits to his future client.

“Imagine, all messages could be written down, no longer relying on word of mouth. The money spent on parchment could be saved and used elsewhere...”

Leo spoke earnestly, making Matilda pause mid-bite and look at him intently, as if he were the most important person in the world at that moment. After a while, Leo felt the gaze was a bit odd. He stopped, drew a deep breath, and said, “Your Grace, if you don’t wish to accept, that’s perfectly all right.”

“I never said I wouldn’t accept,” Matilda replied, arching an eyebrow with a teasing smile. “Since you say this Andalusian paper is so good for governance, let’s give it a try. We’ll see if it’s as marvelous as you claim, Sir Leo.”

She had agreed—wonderful. Leo was pleased, though he kept his face composed. He simply adopted a relaxed expression and waved a hand. “Everything I do is for the good of the duchy, Your Grace.”

“I’m glad to hear you put the duchy ahead of the Church,” Matilda said with a smile before turning her attention back to her fish.

Alberto’s grilling skills were excellent. With the simplest seasonings, he brought out the delicate sweetness of the carp.

Having secured his first client, Leo was in high spirits. After chatting with Alberto for a bit, he made his way over to the soldiers to watch the papermaking process.

In Spain, the Andalusians made paper from flax and hemp. These crops, widely cultivated around the Mediterranean, were among the region’s hottest commodities. However, Leo had little of either on hand, so he had to make do with tree bark for now.

“What about the rest of this firewood?” Leo asked, pointing to the smaller pieces. “Shall we burn it?”

“Burn it? Absolutely not,” Carlo replied earnestly. “We’ll turn this firewood into charcoal in a little while. I’ll take some men upstream to build a few kilns and get some charcoal ready as soon as possible.”

Leo silently congratulated himself on having found the right man for the job. He knew he would have bungled these practical tasks—nothing beat a native of the Middle Ages for such work.

By the river, the soldiers had already stuffed the bark into nets and tossed them into the water. After soaking for a while, the softened bark would be retrieved and boiled with lime. Once boiled, it would be soaked again to separate out the cellulose and create pulp. When the pulp was ready, a thickener was needed to form sheets of paper.

The Arabs used gums or plant resins for this. Western Europeans, however, took a more robust approach. Historically, they made animal glue by boiling bones and hides, which was then mixed into the pulp.

That was just what they were about to do. A group of burly soldiers fetched a large iron cauldron from the nuns, who barely had time to react before the men started boiling the bones and hides from their latest hunt.

“Sir, will this really work?” Carlo’s nervous question amused Leo. Many people grew anxious in the face of new technology. For Carlo, making paper from such cheap materials seemed unfathomable. If paper could be made this way, what would happen to parchment?

“There’s no need to worry—it’s absolutely to our benefit.” Leo clapped Carlo on the shoulder, thinking of the crucial step yet to come. Once he introduced movable type printing, all those traditional scribes in the monasteries would be rendered obsolete.

Leo was already planning to print indulgences. That would be far more lucrative than printing books. Just stamp one, and it was ready to sell—what a delightful thought.

“Sir, you should go inside,” Carlo said, glancing at the work at hand. “There’s nothing much to see out here, and it’s cold. Why not warm up indoors?”

Leo had half a mind to stay longer but suddenly shivered, realizing he’d stood in the biting wind far too long. The thought of Helena’s treatment at the hands of the old doctor made him hurry inside.

“All right, I’ll head in. Make sure you supervise the work. I’ll come back to check soon,” Leo said before leaving.

Carlo nodded, showing no sign of shirking.

When Leo returned to his quarters, the soldiers were still hard at work outside.

“How do we make lime?” Marco squatted on the ground, staring absentmindedly at the expanse of white snow around him.

In Italy, because of the abundance of volcanic ash, few people thought to use lime. Volcanic ash made a superior building binder and could be mined directly.

Lost in thought, Marco was startled when Carlo appeared behind him.

“Are you slacking, Marco? Get up and get to work!” Carlo gave him a swift kick. Marco, not the least bit offended, staggered to his feet.

“Sir, I was just wondering how to make lime,” Marco said sheepishly.

“What’s the point in fretting over that? Just go buy some,” Carlo replied, fishing a few silver coins from his purse and tossing them to Marco.

Things were different now. Since the trip to Parma, the Correggio Monastery’s finances had become flush. Any problem that could be solved with money, should be solved with money.