The Dance of Death

Short Story

Johannes looked left and right at the walls. They were all the same monotonous page of white plaster and brown slabs of timber; they loomed in around him. It was in 1455 and builders slung buildings up in a hurry rather than for grace. Several buildings had fallen because of the slipshod way that things were done in Mainz.

When he was on the main street, he quietly sang a tune originally composed for part of the mass, but which someone, no one knew had changed to a bawdy set of lyrics. The tune and the new lyrics became very popular rather than to old way to confess to God. He stopped humming when a monk sashed passed. Then started again when Johannes was down the street.

Then he turned unto an alleyway and the sides of the buildings became even more oppressive the only gift was that awnings often covered the main floor. He almost always shivered when he reached the place of his employment which was a room cluttered with the instruments for metalworking. He didn’t really know much about metalworking, but his name made his employer smile, and he landed a job immediately. His boss turned out to be a cranky inventor who was also known as a good gem cutter and mirror maker. The latter had landed his boss into hot water when he made mirrors for the pilgrims, but the journey had been delayed, and his creditors wanted their money back. His boss fled from town immediately after this.

Johannes put his hand on the ring which opened the door and pulled. A stream of hot air came out and his boss motioned with his arms to close the door immediately. Of course, this was done but not fast enough for his boss, but no words came out because his boss was working on the very small heater to warm the contraption. The contraption took it in a molten alloy of lead and very quickly pushed out a small square.

His boss looked at the small square that had been made and shook his head and then turned to Johannes. “Did you do as I asked and communicated my most recent proposal?”

“I handed to him your note and described what you were willing to offer.”

“And?”

“He seemed willing to negotiate but I don’t think he will respond favorably to your terms.”

“Greedy. He wants money, very quickly, and he wants what I am working on for himself. And aside from that I don’t have anywhere near that much money.”

“He has a great deal of capital sunk into what you’re doing.”

“He doesn’t understand how powerful this will be when I have it completed.”

“Are you quite sure of that?”

The boss stood up from his stool and simultaneously slung his long copious pepper and salt beard over his shoulder. “I am, positively, convinced that this will revolutionize everything it touches.” Johannes slunk slightly because there was a quality of confidence in his boss that could not be denied.

“Then why are you taking so long? If it is that important surely speed is essential.”

“There are many moving levers, and I do not think that anyone else has come as close as I have. So, perfection is most important not speed. Especially because there are still problems which I must work out.”

“Which is why you need more time?”

“Precisely so. You must get him to see things as I do.”

“If I could tell him exactly what you are doing, I’m sure that would give you the time you need.”

“Pfau. If you knew what I was working on he would take it for himself. I am not sure that I would still be walking, that’s how greedy he is.

“He doesn’t sound that greedy when I speak to them.”

“Greedy people never do. After all, I fell into the same trap you seem to be falling into now. I took the loan.”

“So, what are you going to do?”

His boss moved to another table and grabbed his paper. This was an indulgence copied by the local archbishop, it did not have a name on it, that would be filled in when it was sold.

“These are money, and if I have some of that stream of money, I can dissolve the partnership with Fust.”

Johannes looked confused. I’m confused, you’re working on letter squares, and I do not see the connection with indulgences.”

His boss looked at him. His boss sighed. “The cubes of lead have a letter written on them.”

“I still don’t see the connection.”

“I can assemble any number of letters on one of these.” He moved over to a third table and showed him a matrix in which the letters fit in. “And with that, I can print multiple copies by smear ink of my own formulation, rather than doing one handwritten at a time.”

“So, you can print multiple indulgences?”

“We had no hand from the monk’s hand. I could get anyone to make indulgences even you could I could make matrices and turn that into an indulgence.”

“We can decorate them for additional money and keep some monks employed.”

His boss looked at him. “That’s a very good point. I knew you would be helpful.”

Johannes felt better because now he was in on his boss’s secret: the power of writing could be freed from the slow hand. It would be like the fast squeezing of the grape into wine. It was also one of the most pleasant conversations they’ve ever had, usually most of them had ended in swearing and worse, blasphemy.

Then Johannes thought a minute: “But paper is cheap, and you could get reams of it to produce books.”

“Precisely so. Imagine having your own copy of the Bible. Of course, the first edition would be more expensive than a mere worker could buy but there are plenty of people even in his town who would be willing to fork over Guilders, or even Florins, for one.” Looking at the shadows, his boss said: “Go look at the time on the city hall.”

Now, Johannes knew that it was already 1 o’clock when he entered the place, and he knew that lunch would be served. And he hoped that today would be one of those days when the idea of splurging could be wheedled its way into the conversation. This meant that he shot out of the door and saw that it was nearly 2 o’clock and the hour was going to time soon.

This meant that he bounced inside the door and reported the hour. It was not too difficult to go to the more expensive greengrocer and even pick up some very weak beer. And he was off like a shot. It was for a moment a happy day.

-

But not for long. It became cloudy and he was stopped by the largest of several youngish thugs. Then he was hit in his stomach so he could not speak. Then all four of them closed around him and started moving in unison towards an open door. Johannes was a trifle bleary and could only follow into the large doorway with no protestation. They quickly moved him to the back of the apartment where there was only a small window and rather little illumination.

In front of him was the monk that he had seen earlier. Tossing his robes flat and running his hand through the bald pate on top of his head he touched his hands together as if to pray, and then started: “Johannes… it is Johannes is not? Tell me you know what you’re master is working on?”

Gathering his feet underneath him he tried to lie and say: “I don’t have any idea what he’s working on, no.” He tried to beam but only his mouth responded.

“I am not sure that’s entirely the whole true. Would you like to say that again in slightly different words?”

It was at this point that Johannes knew that the monk intuited that he was lying and was being nominally polite but asking for the truth.

He tried a somewhat more honest lie: “I can see is working on an invention, but I do not know what it is.”

The monk sat down leaned his left arm onto his thigh and then grabbed his meaty chin. He paused for only a moment and then asked: “ would it have anything to do with making it more difficult for monks to copy?”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“Is he making it possible to make indulgences by other means than by copying the written words?” The monk was at this point angry though his voice had not crept up in register or loudness.

At this point, Johannes tries a different tack. “I don’t know if he has any contact with either the Pope or any of the bishops.”

“That’s not what I asked for, I can see that you are loyal to your master. So, I will offer you a choice. Confess to me what I want, or I will have my young friends teach you a lesson about how high this building is.”

Johannes said nothing and he did not know if there was anything to be seen from his face.

The monk also said nothing and merely got up and waved his hand. It was at this point that Johannes was dragged up three stories and out to be high steepled roof through a small door. Johannes could see the ground of the square and the church steeple. It had started to toll two. The ruffians merely drag him to the bottom of the roof and prepare to start throwing him over.

But Johannes pulled away from the two goons and stepped onto the roof without a balustrade and hoped his leap would land him in the alleyway. He saw the alley straight below.

He thought he could make it.

He felt his leap started well, but a hand caught his shoe.

He could feel a snag.

He flew, in a wobbly sense.

He stretched.

He tried to grasp one but his finger caught the roof on the other side.

But he was falling and just barely saw the white and brown top fade. It was the dance of death he thought.

The young man was in a deep state of unconsciousness when a Constable found him. Checking the young man over the Constable heard a little life left and looked up to the roof and maybe thought he saw four ruffians. Making a quick decision, the Constable decided to save the young man.

-

“Why did you come back? You were lucky that the covering caught you and slowed your fall.”

Johanne looked around and found he was in his boss’ shop. He saw the concerned face of his boss with a tear in his right eye. Then and only then did Johannes look down at his legs, he noted that his right leg was twisted, and he could feel a burn running down it. “They gave me a choice of confession or pain.”

“So, you took pain?”

“No, I still have not found what I am looking for. They offered two ways of being a slave to the old way. I want to be part of greatness.”

“But you had …”

“To jump. You are risking bankruptcy. I am only risking punches and a possible fall.”