Sitting in one corner of his carriage, Gustav Druer pondered on his options. It was clear to him now that he had been manipulated by the wily prelate, but the question was, who was getting the best of the deal? For his part, the wine merchant was getting a valuable loan from the Bundnis Bank with which he could finance a virtual monopoly of the Brno Diocese wine business, a contract he was confident would generate a profit of 20 - 30,000 guilders that year alone. What Monsignor Schrattenbach was getting (for Druer knew at which door the power in the Palace waited), was less certain. All he had agreed to was the moving of some bones from St. Thomas' church up the hill to St. Peter and St. Paul's; hardly a dramatic event.
But, he mused, if it was something that the Vicar General wanted, then there had to be more to it than that. In his own religious observances, Herr Gustav Druer was a formalist; he went to church regularly and met all the formal requirements without giving any consideration at all to the spiritual meaning of what he was doing. Sunday services were a social occasion where he met his more valued customers and where his wife could display her best clothes. Like his carriage, Druer considered his attendance at church an business necessity. It was not surprising, therefore, that he was totally unaware of the recent surge in the popularity of Saint Hugh, or the fanaticism the English saint was creating in his community.
Descending from his carriage, still in thought, he encountered the monk Mendel just leaving the cellars.
"Good morning Brother Gregory," he saluted the monk, "did you wish to see me? Good news, I hope."
"Ahh, no, not yet," Mendel told him, "I have just been visiting Herr Teplicka, your vintner."
"But my wine, how goes your researches? Abbot Napp spoke very highly of your scientific talents, I hope you are making progress?"
"Some," Brother Gregory admitted, "we have isolated the cause of the souring. It appears that your wine is infected with a rod-like organism that Brother Joseph is sure is a new type called a bacterius, these rods are taking sugar from the grapes ..."
"Yes, yes," interjected the wine merchant, get these scientists talking about their trade and they never stop, "but my wine, will you be able to prevent the souring and finish the fermentation before the evening of Holy Saturday?"
"We are working on it," said Mendel patiently, "there are still some problems to solve, not least of which is how to kill the rods that are doing the souring."
"Is this going to be difficult?"
Mendel looked at the wine merchant for a moment. He saw a tall, austere man above middle age, conservatively dressed in a fashionable frock coat and high collar. An expensive tall hat rested easily on bushy dark hair that framed a long but curiously weak face. From the jaw bone that was too irregular to the eyes which had a soft, brown mellowness, no element in Gustav Druer's face could be said to dominate any other part. At that instant, however, the thin mouth was working itself intensely, as it often did in moments of crisis.
"That is why I came to see Herr Teplicka," Mendel replied, "I remember from our first visit how helpful he had been on matters of wine fermentation, so I came to seek his advice."
"Yes, yes, Hola Teplicka is one of the best. I only hire people of quality to work for me," Druer told him, puffing his chest out another few centimeters. "Was he able to be of assistance?"
"I think so," Brother Gregory said thoughtfully, he had not yet had time to digest Teplicka's list of possibilities, but at least one suggestion seemed better than the rest. "I understand that you failed to place burning sulfur sticks in the wine barrels before you added the grape must. That could be an important clue."
Gustav Druer bristled at the implied criticism, "It was not necessary, a complete waste of time and money. The devil's sulfur is just an old superstition - the wine business is full of such nonsense."
"I'm not so sure," Mendel said, "It is common practice, and it seems to work. Anyway, I have some tests to do, and I think I will add sulfur to the list of agents to examine for rod-killing potential."
"You must do what you think best," huffed Druer, "but Hola Teplicka is incorrect if he implied that the House of Druer takes any short cuts in the fermenting of its wines. We only use the finest ingredients and use the highest standards in our practice."
"I'm sure you do," Brother Gregory agreed, not at all convinced after his long and revealing talk with the master vintner. "But, if it can save us any time in the solution to your problems ..."
"Yes, yes, yes indeed," said Druer loftily, trying to give the impression that he was far above such petty details. "Please except my sincere thanks for all your efforts, and if there is anything else I can do to help you come quickly to an answer, please let me know."
"Be assured we will," Mendel said, with a slight nod of his head. "But if you will excuse me, I must get back to the monastery. So close to Laetare Sunday, the Prior is going to let us listen to his choir this evening, and tomorrow after mass he ..."
"Indeed, indeed, most interesting, now, if you will excuse me," Herr Druer bowed to his guest, lifted his hat and hurried inside. Once that monk got talking there was no stopping him.
Mendel was left with his thoughts about sulfur, bacteria and how to kill them. He was also left with a long walk back to Old Brno.