The Journey To the Printing Press
By Dan Vanderkam

  "Now raise your lance, and hit the bullseye," the instructor commanded. Being a knight's
apprentice was hard work, but this was the first time Ralph was actually allowed to use a weapon
while on a horse. In a manor in England, their was little else to do that was exciting.
"Make sure the lance is steady. Won't do any good if it's wobbling around!"
Whack!
The lance hit the target about two feet from the bullseye. Well, maybe he would improve in
time. After all, being a knight took years. He would have plenty of time to practice. The only
problem was that his master was not extremely patient.
"You call that a hit!? The goal is to hit the enemy, not give him a nice little gust of wind! Try again, but aim this time!"
Ralph circled around the training grounds, and plucked his lance out of the target. He
circled back, and tried again.
Whack!
This time it was only about a foot from the center. At least now, the enemy wouldn't fall
from his horse laughing. A two foot miss was something to laugh at. A one foot miss wasn't
horrible.
"Hey! Maybe he'll get a little stronger gust of wind. One more time and you're done!"
Ralph took his lance, and charged once again. He had a feeling this time that he would do
great.
Whack!
Well, maybe not. The lance hit about a foot and a half from the center--worse than last
time. Maybe he wasn't going to be the most accurate knight in the land after all...
"What's wrong with you? You're supposed to improve! Maybe we should quit for the
day."

*    *    *

The rest of the day was devoted to working in the stables. It was one of his least favorite
jobs, but it wasn't really his choice whether or not to do it. He had a hunch that this was his
instructor's way of telling him to work harder.
During the first few minutes of work, he usually admired how much breeding work had
gone into making those horses. Not just any horse could carry a knight complete with armor and
weapons. Why, if it wasn't for these horses, he'd be a mere serf!

Fairly soon after he began though, the awe began to wear off. Then, he began to realize
how poorly he must have done to deserve this kind of work. The path to becoming a knight was a
hard one, but it was well worth it.
The horses neighed as he walked into one of the stalls to replace the hay. Apparently he
was becoming a familiar sight around here. He liked horses, but he certainly didn't like the stables.
It was hard work to move and replace all the hay.
After about an hour, he heard some voices coming towards the stable. He decided to hide
behind the hay and listen.
"Well, have you heard the news?" one of the men asked. From the voice, Ralph could tell
that it was George, one of the serfs.
George was a fairly normal person. He never complained about his work, though it always
seemed that there was something strange about him, as if he was too good to be a serf. But what
did he know? He had chosen to be a serf when he was about Ralph's age.
"What news? Nothing interesting ever happens on the manor, and if it does, I'm usually
about the last one to hear about it." This wasn't someone he recognized. He decided to listen on.
"Do you remember those traders that just left a few days ago? Well, they told me that a man
by the name of Gutenberg has made something that can print hundreds of copies of a book in only
a few days!"
"Now this was incredible!" Ralph thought. "A scribe might take months or years to make a
copy of a book like the bible. Making hundreds in a day was unbelievable. It must have been some
story that one of those traders made up to liven the long journeys between manors."
"That's impossible. Nothing can write that fast. And a name like 'Gutenberg'?! That has to
be made up. It's impossible. I don't believe it."
"Think what you like, but I'm gonna tell everyone I can. If this is true, do you know what
it'll mean? A bible in every house! Books for cheap! Why, this has got to be the greatest thing
since knights drove back the barbarians!"
What was George thinking? 'The greatest thing since knights drove back barbarians'? How
dare he put a mere story above a glorious knight!?
"It's true that that would be great, but it's not true. Nobody could ever write that fast. Even
if they got a whole bunch of them. Anyway, believe what you like, but don't be too surprised
when you're the laughing stock of the manor. Now stop blaspheming, and let me take this horse
out to pasture!"
The serf proceeded over to the stable, and dragged the horse out of the stables. The other
serf quickly followed him. Apparently he was just spreading his lie throughout the entire manor.
That other serf was right--he certainly would be the manor's laughing stock!

*    *    *

The serf, George, continued to tell other people about the incredible invention for the rest
of the day. Though relatively few believed him, some did. Finally, he made his way to the lord of the manor.
People rarely came to the Lord of the manor, and when they did, it was always important.
Though he was very short, and was extremely heavy, many people were frightened by him.
Perhaps it was simply because he had the power to do just about anything with them.
"Great Lord, have you heard the news?" George inquired.
"I have heard that you've been spreading lies around my manor while you should be
working, buy I don't know the news," the lord of the manor responded.
"Well, I've heard that a man by the name of Gutenberg--"
"Gutenberg ?! You expect me to believe in that obviously made up name!? You might as
well have called him Hickus Bickus for all its worth!"
"Anyhow, he made something that can churn out hundreds of copies of books in only a
few days!
"Now you might think, 'Why is he telling me this?' Well, my friends and I would like to
go and see this great invention. We number about five, and could be accompanied by a knight on
our journey to Italy. All I need is your approval."
"You're merely a serf, George! Why, if you went that far, how do I know that you'll ever
return? The risk is too great, especially if a knight accompanies you. Do you know what would
happen to my reputation if I were to lose five serfs and a knight to another manor. Nobody would
ever come here. My name would be dishonored!"
"Very well, my lord."
George sulked back to the fields of the manor. He couldn't let something like this ruin his
plans! This invention could be so important to everyone, that he would have to go see it. Not
everybody would be able to say that they had seen hundreds of books typed in a day!
Now that he looked back, George remembered that the traders who had told him of this had
also shown him a copy of a book. They had claimed that this machine had made it. It certainly
hadn't looked like a human had written it. All the letters were too perfect. This machine certainly
wasn't anything less than spectacular!

*    *    *

"Ralph, you must begin to improve your aim before we can continue! You haven't gotten
closer than ten inches in two weeks of practice!"
It was true. Ralph knew that what George said was a complete lie. But what if it was true?
It had been distracting him ever since he had heard it. Somehow, he had a hunch that this was
something more than a story made by bored traders. Rumor had it that George was going to escape
from the manor, and travel to Italy to see what he had been talking about for what seemed like
ages.
"Will you listen to me!?" the instructor demanded. Ralph immediately snapped to attention.
"Certainly sir!"
"Now when you charge up to the target, steady your lance. I can't stress that enough! If your lance isn't steady when you hit, you won't be accurate, and you won't hit as hard!"
Ralph circled around towards the target, and charged.
Even before he was anywhere near the target, he knew that his lance was wobbling
violently. Out of frustration, he flung the lance at the target.
The lance flew to far to the right, and flew just inches away from his instructor.
"ARE YOU INSANE?!" the instructor yelled in rage. "You could have killed me! Get off
that horse, and get out of here! For good!"
Though he wanted to say something in his own defense, Ralph realized that such a remark
would only make things worse.
"When I say get out, I mean NOW!"
Ralph mumbled a feeble 'yes sir,' dismounted, and went back home.

*    *    *

Soon after, word got around of what had happened in the training grounds. It seemed that
the only people not scared of him were fools like George. Then again, most people might think that
he was as stupid as George now. Then again, the stupidity of George's idea was the only thing
that could compare to the stupidity of what Ralph had done. Perhaps they did belong in the same
group after all.
That evening, Ralph found George sitting under a small tree, writing something on a piece
of paper. He walked up to him, and sat down.
"I didn't know you could write," said Ralph, who, like most people of his time, couldn't
read or write.
"I learned it a while back from another serf," George replied without looking up from his
paper.
"I seem to be in the same situation you are. Everyone on the manor thinks that I'm a fool."
"Yes, I heard about what you did. That certainly was foolish. Now that we're both
outcasts, perhaps you're the only one I can trust."
"Perhaps."
"I am planning a way to leave the manor, and go to Italy. However, I do need protection.
Our dear lord won't give me a knight, so you're the next best thing available."
"I probably won't help you much. After all, I'm so pathetic, I can't even hit within a foot
of a bullseye."
"You wouldn't just be for protection. You would be a companion, for I certainly wouldn't
want to make such a long journey alone. You would also be able to steal a horse, and food with
more ease than me."
Ralph thought about this offer. This would probably be one of the most important
decisions of his life.
If he stayed, he wouldn't have much to do. In most likelihood, he would be forced to be a
serf, and toil in the fields all day. He just wasn't this type of person. He would regret staying at the manor for the rest of his life. He would grow old and die, without doing anything significant.
If he went, he would have the dishonor of stealing a horse and food, and would be looked
down upon in this manor for years. But if he was hundreds of miles away, what difference would
it make. He would be doing something different. He would be able to see all types of manors on
the way, and meet hundreds of people. And, there always was a chance that the traders story was
true...
After considering the factors for a few minutes, George realized that there only was one
choice. He would go on the journey with George.
"Very well, I will accompany you," Ralph said, as if what he had just promised to do
wasn't anything out of the ordinary.
"I'm glad that you have agreed. We will plan for another week, and embark the following
day. Now here's how we shall carry out this insane idea..."

*    *    *

The plan was really quite ingenious. Ralph would be in the stables from a few minutes
before sunset until it was dark. Then, he would take the horses out for a ride. He would guide
them over to the tree at which he and George had talked the previous week.
Meanwhile, George would be wrapping up his days work as a serf. He would wait until
everyone had left the granary to put his harvest in. This would seem natural, since he was an
outcast. He would then take food out from the granary, and walk over to the tree, where he would
meet Ralph.
They would load the horses with the food, and a few items they wanted to keep. They
would gallop off to the next manor while the sun was down. The nearest manor was about 20
miles away, so it would take most of the night.
There, they would pose as bards, and sing some songs that they had made up in the past
week. They would receive food, and would continue on to the next manor. They would do this all
the way to Italy, and Gutenberg's invention.

*    *    *

At last, the day had come! They had made a few changes to the plan, and would soon be
heading out. Both Ralph and George waited impatiently for the night, but tried to avoid each other.
They didn't want to make people suspicious, although they had, in most likelihood, done so
anyway.
George went about his normal duties for the fall. He harvested the plants, and separated the
food from the plant. The serfs would do relatively little during the winter. It would be far too cold
for anything to grow in the frozen soil. During the fall, there was always a hectic rush to harvest all
the food as quickly as possible.
Six winters ago, Snow had fallen extremely early, and most of the crops had been lost as a result. The manor had barely survived that year, and everything was rationed until spring, when
food could be grown again. If anything, that winter had taught them to always harvest the crops as
quickly as they could.
George tried to concentrate entirely on the work, but he failed miserably. He had been
waiting for years for something like this to come up.
George wasn't, and never had been like any of the other serfs. He could read and write,
which was quite impressive. He also knew how to speak Italian, which he knew would be
invaluable in Italy. He had learned more than anyone else on this manor as a child.
Unlike the people here, who had been raised on the manor, he had been born in a village. It
was located in Germany, which was quite a distance from the manor. He had left as soon as he
could, because he had heard that there was incredible opportunity in England on the manors. He
didn't realize how wrong he was until it was too late. He had been on the manor for ten years, and
hadn't ever gotten an opportunity to leave--until now.

Meanwhile, Ralph was completely bored. Now that he was no longer an apprentice, and
wasn't a serf, he had absolutely nothing to do. He did work in the stables, but that only lasted for
an hour. There wouldn't be anything for him to do until nightfall.
Ralph decided to walk around outside the manor for a while. He rarely left the manor, and
that was only during the night. From the outside, the manor seemed rather silly. A large place in
the middle of nowhere. Yet it was something that many people had never been outside of.
When he was an apprentice, Ralph had tried to think and act like a knight. He had never
really considered the things that he was told about. As time went on, he was more and more certain
that he had made the correct decision about fleeing the manor.

*    *    *

After what had seemed like a decade to each of them, the stars began to shine.

As was planned, George waited until the other serfs had left to enter the granary. He took
all the food that he could put in his bags, and went out to the gate. So far, everything was working
perfectly.
At the gate, he received strange, but not suspicious looks. After all, what this man did
should be strange--he was considered stupid and crazy.
He proceeded to the tree that he was to wait at, and sat down. His job had been completed
flawlessly, but he worried about Ralph.

While George was worrying, Ralph's mind was set on one thought: getting horses.
It would not be easy. Walking away with one horse would have been easy, but two would
be much harder. You could go on a ride with one horse, but not with two. It was clear that he
needed to make a plan. On occasion, people would take two horses--one to ride on, and the other to carry any
other things the person might want. With an good excuse, Ralph might be able to get away with
this.
Ralph took a bag that was in the stable, and stuffed it with fresh hay. He strapped it on to
one horse, and and adjusted it to make it appear as if it were very heavy. After creating the desired
effect, Ralph saddled up another horse, hopped on, and let both loose. Now, all he needed was an
excuse.
After thinking of a story, Ralph guided the horses to the gate, and trotted towards it.
As was to be expected, the guard wanted explanation.
"Stop!" the guard yelled at Ralph. "Why are you exiting the manor with two horses?"
"I'm going out to the forest to sulk and be miserable for a few days. The other horse has
food," Ralph replied without looking the least bit worried.
"Very well," the guard replied, "proceed."
Though he was surprised that it had been so easy, Ralph was surprised that the guard had
believed his story so easily. Then again, it was believable. Ralph didn't have anything to do, and
he had a right to sulk and be miserable.
Ralph turn the horses towards the tree, and trotted out to meet George.

*    *    *

After telling each other what had happened, they proceeded to gallop towards the place that
George had said that the nearest manor was at.
Though they knew little about other manors, they assumed that it would be like their own.
If two horrible bards walked in, they would be given food and a bed. This was all that they really
needed, so they felt fairly secure.
During the week, they had practiced their routines many times and had them down pact.
They all had one thing in common: they were horrible.
This was not a bad thing at all, however, because it meant that they would be kicked out the
next day. They wanted to spend as little time as possible at each manor, and this seemed like a
good strategy.

The two escapees galloped along through the grass and forest, and as the sun began to rise,
they glimpsed what they thought to be the next manor. Their beliefs were confirmed as they
galloped closer. Because they were so near, they slowed the horses down to a trot, which gave
them much needed rest. After several minutes, they began to distinguish what the manor's castle
looked like.
It was larger than their manor's, and had four tall towers extending from the corners. The
gate was covered with red and black--probably the lord's colors. The castle was made primarily of
stone and was surrounded by a large moat. A narrow wooden plank connected the two, but it
could be raised in times of war.

On the towers, there were several holes just large enough for someone to see through, and
to shoot an arrow through. Near the top of one tower, Ralph saw what looked like an arrow
pointing at them, but this was to be expected. The archer that was aiming at them just wanted to be
on the safe side, and be able to stop them at a moments notice.
All in all, this manor was much larger that George and Ralph's. Any barbarian would be
intimidated by the site of this manor!
Ralph and George approached the gate, and dismounted. The plank was currently up, and
twenty feet of water stood between them and the castle gates.
"Who goes there?" A voice from in the castle called out.
Ralph looked at George, and gestured for him to answer.
"We are two traveling bards," George responded calmly, "and we would like to perform
here tonight. All we ask in return is food and shelter."
"Very well," the gatekeeper replied, "please wait a minute while I lower the drawbridge."
George and Ralph both waited patiently. Everything was going perfectly!
"All right, proceed. I will take you directly to Lord Frederic, who rules this manor."
George and Ralph walked over the drawbridge. It was surprisingly strong for such a small
piece of wood.This would be neccesary for horses and knights to cross.
Now that the drawbridge was lowered, they had a chance to see the gate more clearly. It
was magnificent. It was about 15 feet high, and had a gold emblem on each door. This was
probably the manor's emblem.
The door opened slowly, and creaked loudly. This castle wasn't only magnificent, if was
old as well!
The gatekeeper gestured for them to come in, and they followed him. The inside of the
castle was covered with barred windows, and candles in particularly dark spots. It had long
winding hallways, and would be very easy to get lost in.
After what seemed like years, they reached a particularly large door with the same emblem
that they had seen before on it. This must be the lord's room.
The gatekeeper opened the door and spoke.
"Gentlemen, his excellency Lord Frederic the third," the gatekeeper said boldly. He then
left the room, and closed the doors. He was probably heading back to the gate.
"Well, why are you here, and what do you want?" Lord Frederic asked.
Apparently this person was very impatient, and would be a difficult person to please.
"We are traveling bards, and would like to perform tonight. All that we request is food and
shelter." George said eloquently.
"Bards, bards, bards. Well, I suppose you can perform. You aren't asking for any gold
coins like the last bards I saw did."
"Well, gold coins would be nice..." Ralph said. He immediately felt George elbow him.
Apparently George didn't approve of that question.
"Oh well, I'll give you a few coins if you're any good. But if you're horrible, I'll do to you
what I do to other bad bards."

"Whatever you say sir," George said so eloquently that Ralph wanted to kill him.
They walked out the door, and after a couple of minutes, managed to find the way to the
gate. The gatekeeper told them where they would stay, and gave them some food

*    *    *

That night, they performed for the manor. As was expected, they were horrible. They were
booed, and mocked. Apparently they were as bad as they thought they were!
After they had used up about half of their jokes and songs, Lord Frederic ordered them to
stop. The manor folk were pleased by this, and didn't mind seeing the act end. Everyone walked to
their homes laughing about how horrible the 'bards' were.
As for Ralph and George, they were somewhat embarrassed, but such had been expected.
They didn't get money, but this gave them an incentive to improve their act. That night, they
planned to work on it, as well as find where the next manor was.
After a short walk, Ralph and George reached their temporary place of residence, and after
chatting for a minute or two, began working. They discovered that there was a small manor several
miles south of this one, and that it would be a good place to stay. They laid out a course, and
quickly fell asleep.

*    *    *

Most of their stays at manors were similar to the one that has just been described, but with
one difference. After each performance, they made improvements to their jokes and songs, and by
the end of there journey, they were always applauded.
The closer that they got to Italy, the sparser the manors were. There began to be more and
more towns. Ralph had heard of these, and George had been born in one, but both were fascinated
by them. The thought of having occupations besides a serf or a knight was an interesting one, as
was not being ruled by one person.
The farther south they went, the more they heard about the 'printing press.' Apparently
George wasn't crazy after all! They learned how it worked, and were amazed by how simple it
was. This made them all the more interested in it. They agreed that as soon as they could, they
would become workers at Gutenberg's press.

*    *    *

One day, about 18 months into their journey, they found a town that was in Italy. They had
no trouble finding lodgings, as many people were eager to meet them. They chose to stay at the
house of a wise, retired merchant, who had been all over Europe and the Holy Lands in his
lifetime. They assumed that he had seen the printing press, and would be able to guide them to it.
They walked into the merchants spartan house, and were greeted immediately by the merchant and his wife. The merchant was fairly tall, and was obviously gaining quite a bit of
weight in his old age. He wore a dark black hat, which added quite a bit to his appearance.
After receiving a generous dinner, the merchant asked Ralph and George how they had
come to be in Italy. They told him about their journey, and the printing press. When they said that
they had come to Italy to find the printing press, much to their surprise, the merchant laughed.
"What do you find so funny?" Ralph asked.
"You two must be kidding. You came all the way from Britain to here to find the printing
press!?"
"Yes, and I don't see what's so funny about it," George answered.
"Well," the merchant began. "It wouldn't be funny if Gutenberg lived in Italy, but he
doesn't. He's a German. Everyone knows that."
"So you mean to say that we've come all the way to Italy, when we only needed to go to
Germany!?"
"Yes."
Ralph and George both hit themselves. They had gone hundreds of miles more than
neccesary!
After this little incident, there was relatively little discussion at the dinner table.
The next morning, Ralph and George packed up, and started heading north.

*    *    *

About six months after their unfortunate mishap, they found Gutenberg and his printing
press--in Germany. They were both accepted immediately for a job there, and Ralph, who could
now speak Italian, German and Spanish well, was impatient to begin work.
Gutenberg was a fairly normal looking person. Though Ralph and George had assumed
that he was tall and authoritative, they now realized that he was just a normal person.
"Right now, we are printing copies of the bible, one of our most profitable documents. It
was the first book we printed, and we have made thousands of copies!" Gutenberg exclaimed on a
tour of the press.
"How can it write so fast!?" Ralph inquired with a look of awe on his face.
"It doesn't write, my friend," Gutenberg answered with a look of pride on his face. "It
prints !"
"It just plops ink onto the paper in a pattern, Ralph" George said, in order to answer the
question Ralph was about to ask.
"It's just incredible." Ralph responded. He was still mesmerized by this machine. It was
bound to revolutionize the world!
George quickly explained Ralph's reaction. "You see sir, we have been traveling for two
years to try to find this incredible machine! It is quite fulfilling to finish such a lengthy journey."
"In know what you mean," Gutenberg replied. "Most people thought that I was crazy when
I made the printing press, but look at me now! I'm one of the most important people in Germany!"

"You two can start putting tiles into plates. There are individual tiles with letters on them,
and you need to put them onto the plates. They need to be arranged in words, sentences,
paragraphs, whatever the guide tells you to."
Ralph and George walked to where Gutenberg was pointing, and looked at the guide sheet.
On it were printed the first two pages of the bible--the story of creation.
Ralph and George both worked diligently, and realized that this was well worth the two
years that they had spent traveling.

Epilogue

At last! The two old men had finally reached their destination--an old manor in Britain.
The area around it had become a thriving town, but they found a historian who knew quite a bit
about the history of the manor.
"Do you know of any stories of a serf named George and and an apprentice named Ralph?"
One of the men asked.
"Hmm. I believe I do," the historian replied. "According to an old man that I met who had
lived on the manor, two people by that name ran away from the manor. They were scoffed at,
because they thought that the printing press existed.
"I guess the two people got the last laugh though. The printing press helped to lead to the
downfall of the manor, and the rise of the town!"
The two men looked at each other. They had been right!

The End