During the next few weeks life at the monastery and in Brno settled down into a tense and uneasy truce. In the higher realms of authority Heinrich Darmstaedter set his spies and informers to locate and observe the movements of his Hussite enemies, with modest success. The pivnice in which Katerina Novotna was hidden was under constant surveillance, but suddenly the visits made by Brother Matthew ceased, and Darmstaedter could not be sure if this was just a precaution on the part of the monk or something more serious.

So he waited patiently for Klacel to make a second, serious mistake and continued polishing his dossiers and his case against the trouble maker.

Brother Timothy continued his election campaign among his fellow monks, and found himself at the Bishop's Palace on more than one occasion, reporting his progress and collecting more advice.

"You once said that there were only four motives that drive people to vote and decides whom, or what, they select," he said to Monsignor Josef Schrattenbach one cold day towards the end of January as the first of the monastery votes was drawing nearer. "If remember correctly they were, fear, greed, hatred and inertia. We talked about the first two, and I've been trying to apply these principles, but what have you got to say about the use of hatred and inertia?"

His mentor looked at him carefully. "Yes, I keep hearing about your success with fear and greed. It looks as if Sembera and Anselm Rambousek will not be serious competitors for the office after all. That was well done. Keep applying those tools to your cause and you will not fail. However, you may find it interesting, and useful, to add 'hatred' and 'inertia' to your campaign strategy".

"Hatred I can understand. If Brother Matthew were to try and get elected Abbot, only his closest friends, Mendel and Lindenthal, would vote for him. Everyone else dislikes him enough that even if he was the finest candidate around, he would never get their votes. As far as I know only Klacel really hates me, even Mendel appears neutral and would probably vote for me if he considered me a serious candidate. So, how can I use 'hatred' as a force in this election?"

"You have already mentioned one way that this tool could be used. It is very effective. Next time one of your voters mentions that he might vote for, say, Brother Anselm, just nod your head wisely and say something like, 'Ah yes, a good man. I hear that Brother Matthew is strongly in favor of having Brother Anselm as our next Abbot. You seem to agree with him'. You would be surprised at how quickly they change their minds when they think that they are on the same side as someone they hate!"

Both men laughed at the thought, then Brother Timothy continued. "But, what about the use of 'inertia', it seems such a negative force, how could it possibly be used to win an election?"

"Ah!" replied Monsignor Schrattenbach with some enthusiasm, "inertia will probably be the most powerful force in your election. Remember, you are working with a group of very liberal monks who have a lot at stake in this election. The one thing they want above everything else is that nothing in their lives should change - nothing!

"The death of Abbot Napp is a tragedy, yes? but more than that. It means change! Change in the way things are done, change in the way decisions are made, change in the way their duties are assigned, change in the comfortable ruts in which their daily lives have fallen. Most older men fear this kind of change more than anything else! They fear that it will expose their weaknesses, they fear that it will uncover all the little ways they have devised to protect their failings and preserve their foibles. Above all they fear that a new face in the Abbot's chair will see through their insecurities and mock their dependence on routine instead of intelligence and thought. The fear this most of all".

"Yes," Brother Timothy said, "I can see that. I am told that Brother Gregory depends on gimmicks in his teaching and has been instructing his classes using the same routines for years. He would really hate a new Abbot telling him he had to teach a different way, or use a different syllabus or re-think his approach to his physics classes. He would do almost anything to avoid changing his comfortable teaching habits. But how can this help me?"

"Simple, use inertia, and promise them that there will be no change in their lives if you become Abbot. Tell Mendel that you admire the old-fashioned way he teaches his classes, use words like 'his personal contact with his students', and the way he 'identifies with student problems', and he will be putty in your hands. No one likes the idea of changing the way they teach.

"It is 'inertia' that is motivating them. They do not want any change. In fact, if you could convince them that you are Napp's heir, and will do all you can to honor his legacy, this will be the most powerful motivator of all!"

But how?

That would have to wait until after the first vote.

Back in the monastery basement, smells from the chemistry laboratory bubbled and drifted through the corridors and became trapped against the firmly closed winter windows, causing some of the monks to gasp and grumble. But not loudly. Grete Dabrowska was proving to be a very popular addition to their lives. Many of them not having been fed this well since they left home.

In the formal library Brother Matthew was moping among his rich collection of valuable books, but in the kitchen the three 'chemists' were about to try a very old experiment.

"One of our problems," Grete told the two monks, "is the way colors change in different environments. This new dye alizarin appears to change color depending on how it is treated, and that is going to make it difficult to find exactly the right conditions. But here, let me show you what I mean".

She walked to the stove and picked up a pan of boiling water. This she carried to the table and poured it into a bowl of blue cabbage leaves, one of the few vegetables still reasonably fresh in Brother Victor's stores. With a wooden spoon she stirred the mixture and the three of them watched as the formerly clear liquid started to turn blue.

"Some sort of coloring matter is being extracted from the leaves," she said, "and it is soluble in the hot water". She stirred for a few more minutes, then carefully poured off most of the liquid into a jar, separating it from the remaining, limp, leaves. Some of this blue liquid was then put in a wine glass and held up to the light.

"A stable vegetable color has been extracted from the leaves," she said, looking round the kitchen. "It will stay like this until it goes moldy, but if we change it's environment, well, watch". Holding the glass of blue water in one hand, Grete added a single drop of common vinegar from a cruet on the shelf. Immediately the liquid in the glass turned a bright red, and even Brother Joseph gasped.

"An old party trick I used to do at my husband's dinners," Grete said with a laugh. "I would take a glass of the blue liquid, cover it with a gauze cloth, wave my hand over it (while letting a drop of oil of vitriol fall into the liquid), and then after chanting certain incantations, whip away the gauze and show the guests how I'd turned the blue liquid into red wine! They were most impressed".

"Any acid substance will do this trick. The vegetable color will turn red. But that is not the end of the story". In a second glass, Grete poured yet more of the original blue liquid, but this time she added a drop of pearlash water, and once again the liquid changed color, this time to a dark, glowing green.

"A green color is produced by any alkaline material, such as potash or even hartshorn. So this vegetable substance can be red, blue or green depending on the conditions. I suspect that alizarin will present the same range of colors and options when we get it into solution".

Both the monks were impressed and depressed by this demonstration, which Grete repeated a couple of days later when Carl Emmanuel Waldschmidt came by for a visit and an inspection of their progress. The German engineer had taken to doing this every few days, despite constant assurances that he would be the first to be told if any progress was being made.

Obviously he was under considerable pressure from Otto Grunewald, who was in turn under considerable pressure from the Countess, who wanted to see her red dresses as soon as possible. No one in their right mind promised the Countess something, and then failed to deliver. Grunewald had spent some uncomfortable moments recently when talking to the representatives of that august lady.

He was anxious for progress, but the atoms of carbon were not giving up their secrets easily.