Eric Flint: Grantville Gazette.Volume XVII

Not so, his younger brother Lukasz. You could even say he was a man made for the shades and subtleties.

"Well. Now that I think about it, Lukasz. We actually should start organizing our own spy network here in the Commonwealth. I can't attend to it myself, you understand. As often as not, I'll need to be somewhere to the west on the hetman's business. So why don't you take on the work?"

Lukasz sipped at his wine. "Well enough. I imagine being a spymaster is usually sedentary sort of work, which certainly suits me."

You might be surprised, thought Jozef, remembering two occasions-one in particular-in which he'd found his fleet footing and good lungs essential to his well-being.

Of course, he saw no reason to say it out loud.

"But first, the critical question," Lukasz continued.

"Yes?"

He gave Wojtowicz a look from beneath lowered brows. "Who-exactly-is this 'we' that needs to start a spy network in the Commonwealth?"

"Ah." Jozef sipped at his own wine. "Good question."

"Yes, I thought so. Somewhat critical, actually."

Jozef considered the problem. It really was a very good question.

"Well, for the moment… I'd say that 'we' is simply you and me, Lukasz. You might think of it as a cabal starting very, very small-but with ties in both the camps of revolution and… you can't say 'reaction,' exactly. That wouldn't be fair to the hetman."

Lukasz smiled. "As fond as you've become of them, surely you can dredge up some appropriate American term."

"I can, as it happens. The Americans would call it 'the establishment.' A rather nice term for the purpose, I think."

Opalinski nodded. "Very well, then. A tiny two-person cabal with ties to both the establishment of the Commonwealth and those-some of those, at any rate-who would undo that same establishment. Now, the second question. What is our goal and purpose?"

"Pretty much the same as those of your brother, I'd say. The truth is, there's not much in my recommendations and proposals that I think Krzysztof would object to. Where we differ is mostly in our chosen methods. I'd really just as soon avoid a revolution if we could, Lukasz-or, what's far more likely, the bloodbath that will accompany a failed revolution."

Opalinski thought about it, and then drained his goblet in one long and practiced swallow. What the Americans in Grantville at the now-famous Thuringian Gardens-Jozef had spent many hours there himself-would call a chug-a-lug.

"Sounds about right to me," he pronounced, wiping his lips. "And now, it's your turn to get up and open another bottle. You know how easily I get fatigued by strenuous labor."

"These Americans," Don Alfredo de Aguilera said with a sigh. "They have no idea of the effects they have." He cast a sardonic look out the window, then sighed and turned back to his letter. The best he could do was the best he could do, but that didn't mean that his uncle Ramon was going to be any happier with him. But perhaps the letter to his cousin might help.

Mi querido Carlos,

As you know, your father has required that I stay here in Grantville, researching and looking for ways for the family to increase its wealth and influence. So I stay. In many ways, I do enjoy it. In some others, I simply do not.

There is bad news which I have shared with your father in brief but I share with you in greater detail. The woman will not sell all her sheep. The up-time Merino sheep will be bred in Germany. And she is selling some, but not all, of her Angora rabbits. Which, as rabbits do, are reproducing in great numbers. Rapidly. Very rapidly. So much so, that the insane woman is now furnishing breeding pairs of them to others. At no cost. With contracts to purchase the product of said rabbits.

While the quantities will be small for years to come, especially of the Merino wool, the quality of the fabric is better than anything we have. This is partly because of the Angora rabbits, but I must tell you, Cousin, that the wool of the up-timer sheep is better than any in Spain. So Spain no longer has the best wool in the world. As well, these sheep produce more wool. They were bred to do so, after all.

Carlos, yesterday at the Exchange I saw a young woman, the daughter of a farmer, wearing an Angora-wool blend top. That girl was wearing finer woolens than Her Imperial Majesty, the queen of Spain possesses. A farmer's daughter! Can you imagine it, Cousin? "Here, Your Majesty, we have the best wool in Spain. Granted it's not quite so good as a farmer's daughter wears in barbaric Germany, but it's almost as good." What price will Spain's fine Merino wool bring when this becomes common knowledge throughout Europe? And it will. The farmer's daughter was quite proud of her "Angora sweater," marveling at its soft comfort, having her friends feel the softness while she spoke of its warmth. There is no keeping this secret, even if almost no one can get cloth made of the angora-wool blend. Simply the fact of its existence must bring down the price of our Spanish wool.

Yet there is good news, or at least a potential way to compensate for the lost profit that the family will face. Up-time they had machines to spin wool and other fabrics at tremendous speed and low cost. None of those machines made the transition. But, sooner or later, they will reinvent the machine. At that point, wool cloth made in Germany will cost not that much more than washed wool from Spain and the window of opportunity will close.

The opportunity I speak of is to become more than a supplier of washed wool. I believe that we should become a supplier of finished thread and cloth. I know my uncle will likely be opposed to this, but I believe it is essential. The cloth makers of England, France, Germany, and Italy will not pass on the savings from such a machine to the providers of the wool.

The National Library has very little available on the subject of the spinning jenny, spinning mule and other machines used in the "mass production" of cloth. I enclose what they have from the various encyclopedias and I will be continuing my research. Carlos, we have a window of opportunity here, but that window will not stay open forever. If the family's wealth is to be maintained, we must have those machines. We must be able to break into the cloth markets of Europe before they have the machines to compete with us or we will likely never gain the foothold we need. I know what Uncle Ramon thinks of the mercantile trades, and that his opinion of those who work with their hands is possibly worse. But for the sake of our family, Cousin, you must persuade him to invest in an experimental facility geared to the development of the machines used in the mass production of cloth.

Don Carlos de Aguilera sipped his wine as he read the letter from his cousin. After delivering the bad news, the letter shifted to asking after various family members, before switching back to matters of business. Business and trade weren't something his cousin seemed able to avoid. Don Alfredo suggested diversification into other crops. Which was a possibility. Cotton, peanuts, and corn.

In the next few weeks, as I acquire them, I will send you a pair of Angora rabbits and some seed corn. I have included what drawings I have managed to accumulate, as well as reprinted articles on many things of interest. I'm particularly interested in the peanut butter. Up-timers crave peanut butter, Carlos. Small children beg for it. We must discover what they're talking about and attempt to produce it. There's a market right here. As well, I'm told that it is "nutritious." It has "protein." And that everyone benefits from ingestion of such. Best of all, the plant itself nourishes the soil. Which should allow for the growing of cotton if you can acquire the seeds.