It was clear to all that Carl Emmanuel Waldschmidt was an engineer with a passion for machines, any machines. His eyes had positively lit up as he described the parts of the loom, how 'open sheds' and 'closed sheds' were produced and when he tried to explain the Hahlo, Liebreich and Hanson patent reversing motion his voice almost broke with excitement.

Levers, wing-nuts, spiral springs and special screws held for him the same fascination that double-hybrid peas held for Mendel, and he could recognize the same, almost mystical way in which he stroked the flat bed of the loom and twitched the Jacquard shedding mechanism.

"Engineers are more artists than scientists," he said, almost as an apology as he finally led them away from the weaving area of the mill and towards the dye-works. It was here that the real work of the visit had to begin.

In contrast to the vast volume of noise associated with the weaving looms, the dyeing area was as quiet as a church. Housed in a completely separate building, this part of the manufactory was much older than the rest and had clearly been sited to be as close as possible to the river. Large quantities of water were needed for the washing and dyeing of cloth, and that could only be conveniently obtained close to the river bank.

Once again Waldschmidt tried to give the monks a basic lesson in the art and science of dyeing cloth, but this time Brother Matthew deflected him by asking questions.

"This may seem a strange question, but what exactly are 'dyes'," he asked.

"Almost anything that will stick to fibers or cloth so as to impart color," Waldschmidt said. "All the dyes used here are of vegetable origin, which presents many problems of their own. Indigo, for example has to be made using a long, long fermentation process which creates a colorless, soluble product which only takes up its color when soaked into the cloth and then oxidized in air.

"It is one of the great ironies of dyeing that many of these so called 'natural' dyes don't stick to cloth or textiles at all. To get the color into the fabric, the cloth has to be first treated with all kinds of other substances including aluminum, iron, or even tin. This is called mordanting.

"In theory, wool or cotton fabrics can be dyed at almost any stage in their manufacture, from the raw fiber right up to the finished dress or coat, but Grunewald has concentrated in the making of fully dyed cloths, which he then sells to the dressmakers, tailors or the government".

They were now inside the main part of the dye-works which was dominated by large metal and ceramic vats containing cloth at various stages of processing. Women pushed wheeled carts between the vats loaded with wet material, and the men filled and emptied the vats using a combination of hoses and pipes.

"Are you trying to make alizarin here?" Klacel asked, wrinkling his nose at the range of odors now assaulting it, and trying to keep his garments out of dripping vats and messy pipes and tables. It was a losing battle, and he would return to the monastery in a coat of many colors.

Waldschmidt became guarded. "Well, yes, we are experimenting with some of the first stages in the process". Then he reluctantly took his group to the back of the main dye-works where it was clear that a lot of new construction had just taken place. Raw wood was piled by the walls, and much of it had been joined together to form a strong scaffolding that was currently holding a giant copper kettle, a series of coiled tubes, and a array of glass jars and metal tanks holding a variety of liquids.

A bootlegger from the southern United States would have recognized the apparatus at once, but only Klacel had any idea what is would be used for. "You are making your own Brandy!" he almost shouted.

"Not exactly," grinned the engineer, "but it works on the same principle - this is a fractional distillation devise that Herr Doktor Hoffman invented to separate the components in coal tar. Look!". He pointed to where two men were adding fuel to the fire under the copper kettle.

As they watched the kettle began to bubble and rock in its supports, and a strong, crude smell began to seep out of the sweated joints holding the "spout" of the kettle to the first of the copper coils.

"All Herr Perkins attempts to make artificial dyes start with coal tar," Waldschmidt went on. He believes that in the coal tar are vast mixtures of compounds made mostly of the substance carbon. I don't pretend to understand what he said in many of our discussions, but these carbon ... er ..."

"Atoms," Brother Joseph told him. "Herr Doktor Dalton called them atoms".

"Yes, of course, the carbon atoms are all linked together in particular ways, or so Herr Doktor Perkin believes, and that these carbon atoms are also linked to another kind of atom which I think is called ... er ... hydrogen".

"Yes, that is right," Mendel said, fascinated not by Waldschmidt's crude chemistry but by the bubbling and fuming coming from the kettle. By now there was a kind of steam coming from a joint high up in the scaffold and a technician was hurriedly turning on a valve which allowed cooling water to flow around the first of the copper coils.

"Together," Waldschmidt went on, "the carbon and hydrogen atoms produce a wide variety of different kinds of substances, some useful others not so useful. What you are watching is the first step in separating out all these wonderful chemical materials. Once we have separated out the ones we need, they become intermediates in the next stage, which is the manufacture of the dye".

"It is starting to get very hot in here," Klacel complained, mopping his brow, "what sort of temperatures are you using?"

"Hummm, let me think". Waldschmidt walked over to one of the senior technicians who was watching the boiling process very carefully. After consulting with him for several minutes, the engineer returned to his group and had the answers.

"We use three different temperature ranges," he explained, "what you seen now is the light oil distillation. At the current temperature in the kettle, which is about 150^oC, what we call the 'light oil' is boiling off the coal tar as a gas. Up there," he pointed to the coils now covered in cooling water, "the light oil is converted back into a liquid and drains into that vat".

Everyone could now see an oily, clear liquid beginning to drip, drip, drip from the end of the first copper coil into a glass flask about the size of a small barrel. As they watched the drip became a steadier stream, but in the flask it seemed to swirl and mix together in a rainbow of reflected colors as the fire under the kettle sent orange light through it's different densities.

"After we have collected all the light oil, we increase the temperature to about 200^oC and the middle oils begin to boil, turn into a gas and then rise through the coils. Cold water causes them to recondense into a liquid once more, and we collect them in separate flasks".

"And what temperatures do you use for the heavy oils?" Brother Matthew could not help asking before Waldschmidt's lecture continued. He was starting to get a bit irritated at the way the Prussian engineer was explaining these basic processes.

"Any temperature above 230^o will bring off the heavy oils," Waldschmidt said, not in the least discomforted by Klacel's question. "But at temperatures above 270^o this is where we get anthracene oil - which is what we want at the moment. All these other oils are good starting points for more distillations and other separations, but Herr Doktor Perkin found that the substance 'Anthracene' was what he wanted to start making alizarin".

"And how do you get that?" Brother Joseph asked quickly, not waiting for Brother Matthew to speak.

"As far as I know, anthracene is separated from the anthracene oil by crystallization. The crude crystals are then dissolved in the solvent naphtha, distilled at very high temperatures and then recrystallized again in a much more pure form".

"This, anthracene, is where the process of making alizarin begins?" Mendel asked.

"Yes," Waldschmidt confirmed, "our dyers have had some success at following Herr Doktor Perkin's formulae and we can get the crude anthracene all the way to a product we are now calling 'Madder Red' as it behaves very similar to the dye from the madder plant used in ancient times. But we cannot get beyond that point. The Madder Red dye will hardly dissolve in water at all. If we boil it, a little more will go into solution, but not enough to even begin dyeing cloth".

"Have you any of this Madder Red for us to look at?" Mendel wanted to know.

"Of course, we have quite a supply and can give you all you need. Where would you like to begin your chemical investigations?" Waldschmidt was clearly very anxious that Brother Gregory and his friends start at once, but the monks had other ideas.

"It is getting late," Brother Matthew said, pointing at the windows high up in the walls of the dye-works where the light was already beginning to fade, "don't you have a dinner appointment?"

"Indeed we do," Waldschmidt confirmed, checking his watch.

"Since this, chemistry, is not a subject with which I am very familiar," Mendel said slowly, "I'd like to have a day or two in which to think about the problem and also consult one or two members of the Natural History Society. I also need to collect some books and possibly some equipment, so I think we would be ready to start in a few days".

Waldschmidt was clearly not too happy at this suggestion, but he could hardly argue, so the party left the dye-works and walked back to the main mill buildings in the gathering gloom.

"I will call for the carriage to take Brother Matthew and Brother Joseph back to the monastery," Waldschmidt said, summoning the groom and telling him to get the horses harnessed. "We will go back to the Manager's office and wait until all the workers have left for the evening, then Herr Lichtermann will take us to his house for dinner in his own coach".

Thus it was that Brother's Matthew and Joseph boarded Otto Grunewald's carriage in the courtyard, and wondered at the presence of the extra soldiers guarding the gate as they approached the exit. A suspicious Korporal stopped the coach and poked his head into the interior, but only seeing two monks, allowed their journey to continue.

However, they did not get far. In the open space, just beyond the main mill gates, everyone in the coach heard a heavy thump, and the carriage suddenly rocked up and down violently as if a large weight had suddenly fallen off.

"Stop!" Brother Matthew shouted to the coachman, thinking a valuable part of Grunewald's vehicle had suddenly broken free. He did not want to return a damaged coach to someone like Otto Grunewald.

It was hard to see in the darkening evening, but lying between the carriage wheels there looked to be a bundle of old clothes, that groaned and moved as the two monks and a curious groom poked at it.

Using his foot, the groom turned over the body and a small, feminine face was illuminated in one of the carriage riding lights. "It's a woman," gasped Brother Joseph, "and look at her hands!"

Blood was flowing freely from the lacerations on the woman's hands.

"What is going on?" asked the coachman from his position high up on the driver's seat.

"Let's get her up and into the carriage," Brother Matthew suddenly insisted. He had seen a group of the soldiers standing by the mill gate suddenly start to take an interest in the strange behavior of the coach and its occupants. The last thing he wanted was to spend time with the military servants of his Imperial Majesty.

Somewhat reluctantly, for their recent discovery did not appear very clean, the groom helped Klacel pick up the groaning woman and get her into the carriage. She was recovering fast, and went up the last step almost on her own. Quickly the groom jumped up beside the whip-man and hissed for him to get the carriage underway at once.

Inside the now dangerously rocking coach the strange woman was awake and looking at her rescuers suspiciously. Her face, while conventionally pretty, was caked with dirt and held a furious expression that was more hatred than gratitude.

"Where are you taking me?" she almost yelled, "let me out at once!" She began to rise and move towards the door. Klacel leaned forward from his seat to prevent the woman from exiting the moving carriage and his face came into a beam of light. Suddenly the woman gasped, and sank back into her seat. One of her bleeding hands was pointing at Brother Matthew and the other was across her mouth in shock.

"Francis!" she gasped, "is that you?" Her voice was at the same time unbelieving and almost a sob. But it was not the voice but the name it had called out that affected Brother Matthew. He turned pale, gasped in a lungfull of air and stared at the woman with a new intensity. After examining her face for several seconds, he said another name.

"Katerina? Katerina, is that you?" he could not believe it either.

"Who is this?" Brother Joseph finally found his own voice, "and why is she calling you 'Francis'?.

With a big laugh Brother Matthew flung himself back in his seat and slapped his thighs. "Brother Joseph, let me introduce you to my very first and only girlfriend - this is Katerina Novotna. Katerina, this is my good friend and fellow monk, Brother Joseph Lindenthal. We were on our way home to the monastery. From the look of you," he pointed at her bleeding hands, "and the fact that you were clearly trying to escape from those soldiers back there, you must be up to your old tricks again, stirring up trouble and causing the Emperor all kinds of problems. What is it this time?".

As the coach rattled on it's way back to the monastery, and as Brother Joseph got over the first part of his shock at the discovery of Klacel's girlfriend, he began to learn a little more about his friend's checkered past. But deep in the darkness of the tenement buildings someone else was also learning something.

Carefully hidden, as was his professional duty, Alois Pech had watched the whole episode of the carriage, the woman and how the monks had picked her up and carried her off. Unlike Brother Joseph, he had known instantly the names and roles of all the players, and he was already rubbing his hands with glee. His run of hard times was almost over. Just wait until he could impart this latest discovery to his master in the Staat Polizei.

A much wanted leader of the Hussite rabble had just escaped from a trap and was now being hidden and given shelter by another Hussite trouble maker in St. Thomas monastery! It did not get much better than that! He was going to be rich again, and Klacel would be lucky if he did not end up being hung along side his girlfriend.

Pech hurried off into the darkness.