The Holy Soap of Sternberg
I followed Josef into the workshop, moving to his office, which was the only quiet space available. On the table lay fresh samples of soap, just stamped out from the production line.
I picked up an ivory-colored apple soap. It was firm, with a smooth surface, and a subtle scent of apple tickled my nose. It was a masterpiece of craftsmanship, the kind that would draw gasps of admiration from any noblewoman.
“What is the production cost?”
“As you commanded, Your Highness, we have kept it strictly to a minimum.” Josef opened his ledger. “The fat was scraped up for a pittance from the slaughterhouse scraps, and the salt is being recovered entirely from wastewater and reused. The only expenses are labor, a bit of firewood, and the apple peels discarded by the farms.”
He shook his head in disbelief. “This is alchemy, Your Highness. You are creating something from almost nothing. To think that even selling it for one groschen would still turn a profit…”
“Good. Excellent.” I set the soap back on the table with a satisfied smile. “We will soon have distinguished guests in Prague—merchants from Venice. They will swarm here like hyenas once they catch the scent of my steel and cannons. But I intend to show them this fragrant lump instead of my artillery.”
Venice. The greedy traders of the Adriatic. They monopolized Mediterranean trade, sucking up the wealth of Europe, and were notorious for making massive margins on luxury goods like spices, silk, and glassware.
Janos, who had been listening nearby, tilted his head and asked, “Your Highness, do you intend to sell this soap to the Venetian merchants? It is certainly a fine product, but I doubt it has enough value to make them lose their appetite for cannons.”
“You’re right. This is, after all, for the common folk. A mere one-groschen item won’t satisfy the standards of those high-nosed traders.”
Weapons are good, and soap is good, but what Venetian merchants truly crave isn’t just quality. It’s exclusivity—the things that others cannot possess.
“Josef, start up another production line.”
“Pardon?”
“But the goods we make this time will not be for the commoners. We are going to make a luxury item exclusively for the nobility.”
At the word ‘luxury,’ Josef’s eyes lit up. He was, after all, a craftsman who used to make such things.
“Do not spare the materials. Refine the soap base three, four times. Knead it until the particles are as fine as flour. Add plenty of the finest Bohemian honey, and for the fragrance, don’t use apple peels—use the real thing.” I counted off on my fingers. “Rose oil, lavender, musk. Pour in the most expensive and fragrant things you can find. As for the packaging, don’t use crude wooden boxes; wrap them in silk and gold leaf, and stamp the Bohemian royal lion crest on the surface. The moment they see it, it must exude an air of authority that no commoner would dare touch.”
Josef swallowed hard. “If we make it like that… the cost will rise significantly.”
“It doesn’t matter. The base is dirt cheap anyway. Adding a bit more for fragrance won’t even be noticeable.” I leaned back into my chair and asked, “How much is Castile soap selling for in the market right now?”
“Approximately… one Venetian ducat. And even then, it is so rare that it is hard to find even if you have the money.”
The Venetian ducat. The reserve currency of medieval Europe, minted from 3.5 grams of 99% pure gold. In the 21st century, it held the status of the dollar.
“One ducat… at the current exchange rate, that’s twenty Prague groschen. Yet the nobles buy it, thinking it’s the best because there is no alternative.” I tapped the table. “We will sell ours for half that price.”
“H-half price? You mean half a gold coin?”
“Yes. Exactly ten groschen.”
Josef’s pupils wavered. Ten groschen. It was a sum that a skilled stonemason would have to save for ten days without spending a single penny, a fortune that could buy two plump sheep. But to the nobles, who already perceived ‘high-end soap’ as a twenty-groschen item, ten groschen would feel like an incredible, bargain-bin discount.
“The quality is superior to Castile, and the price is half. It even bears the royal seal of guarantee. Do you think the Venetian merchants will be able to resist drooling over this?”
“C-certainly. Even I would find it impossible not to buy it.” Josef nodded, though his expression remained clouded with worry. “However, Your Highness… there is one thing that concerns me.”
“Speak.”
“The Venetian merchants are devout Catholics. And currently, Bohemia is… forgive me, but we have been branded as heretics by the Papacy.” Josef carefully watched my reaction. “Even if the product is good, would they buy a heretic’s soap to sell across Europe? They could easily get caught up in an Inquisition…”
I burst into a laugh. Josef’s concern was valid—had the opponent been anyone other than Venetian merchants.
“You view the Venetians as too noble, Josef.”
“Pardon?”
“They worship profit more than faith. Did Venice stop trading with the Ottoman Empire just because they were infidels? No. Because spices meant money, they hid the cross behind their backs and shook hands. If there is money to be made, they would sell sulfur from the fires of Hell.”
To Venetian merchants, the Bible is a ledger, and their only god is gold. Heresy and excommunication are merely excuses to drive down the price.
However, I couldn’t completely ignore Josef’s concern. “Of course, we must be mindful of public perception. If rumors spread that they are using soap made by heretics, nobles who value their reputation might hesitate to buy it.”
Even setting aside the Venetian merchants, the end consumers—the European nobility—were people who, at the very least, had to pretend to be devout. If word got out that they were using soap made by heretics, they might avoid it regardless of the quality.
“That is why I intend to add one more layer of packaging to this product.”
“Packaging? What do you mean…”
I stood up and walked slowly to the window. The panorama of Prague came into view—the naked face of the Middle Ages, hidden beneath colorful roofs, filthy, stinking, and riddled with all manner of disease. I intended to exploit the fear deeply ingrained in the bones of the medieval people.
“Soap blessed by God’s grace.”
“Pardon?”
“Soap that wards off the Black Death.”
“……!!”
I turned my back and slowly curled the corners of my mouth upward. “What do you think? With packaging like this, I suspect every noble in Europe will be drooling to get their hands on it.”
Prague’s Old Town Square. The square was, as always, bursting with life. The sound of a butcher’s cleaver hitting meat, the shouting of a woman haggling with a chicken seller, and the screech of wagon wheels on cobblestones created a massive, discordant symphony of the city.
But more intense than the noise was the smell. The sharp, stinging ammonia from the leather tanneries, the fishy stench of the fishmongers… and the heavy, lingering odor of sour sweat and urine from unwashed bodies hung thick in the air.
Into this crucible of chaotic smells, a cart creaked its way in. Jan, a young worker from the Soap Guild, gripped the cart’s handle with a tense expression. The cart was covered, but the fragrant scent of fruit leaking through the gaps stood in strange contrast to the surrounding stench.
Jan took his place at a corner of the square, where foot traffic was heaviest. Then, he whipped the cover off.
Flap—
As the cover fell, the neatly stacked ivory-colored bricks glittered in the sunlight. Simultaneously, the trapped fragrance exploded outward. The freshness of a May orchard instantly captivated the noses of the Prague citizens, who had been exhausted by the smell of rotting fish and sweat.
“Huh? What is that smell?”
“Where is that fruit scent coming from?”
Passersby stopped one by one, sniffing the air to find the source. Jan didn’t miss the opportunity and shouted at the top of his lungs.
“Come! Look! Smell! The pride of Prague! The miracle of Bohemia! Apple soap has arrived!”
Women stopped in their tracks. Laborers carrying loads gathered around the cart out of curiosity. A middle-aged woman in an apron picked up a bar of soap and asked, “What is this? Cheese?”
“No, madam! This isn’t for eating; it’s for your skin. It’s soap! Soap!”
“Soap? This hard, white thing is soap?” The woman tapped the soap with her fingernail in disbelief. To her, soap wasn’t a smooth hexahedron, but a sticky, black lump like mucus.
“Bah, you’re lying. Even the soap the nobles use isn’t this white. Are you trying to scam us by hardening flour dough?”
Eyes of suspicion sprouted among the crowd. The overly perfect appearance had become a poison. That was when Jan pulled out his trump card.
Flap—
He proudly hung a piece of parchment on a stand next to the cart. In the center of the parchment, the Bohemian royal lion crest, stamped in red wax, was clearly visible.
“Are you suspicious? Look at this certificate!” Jan puffed out his chest and shouted. “This is a quality guarantee personally bestowed by His Majesty the King! This soap was manufactured under royal supervision, and this is proof that the King himself guarantees its quality!”
The crowd murmured.
“A royal crest?”
“It’s real! That’s the lion emblem.”
Most of them were illiterate, but everyone could recognize the shape of a lion standing on its hind legs. Once royal authority was involved, suspicion instantly turned into curiosity.
“If the King guaranteed it… it must be a really good product.”
“Besides, would His Majesty try to scam us?”
The middle-aged woman asked again, “So, how much is it?”
Jan confidently held up one finger. “A mere one groschen! Originally, you couldn’t buy this even for a gold coin, but by the King’s mercy, we offer it for just one groschen! For a single silver coin, you can take this miracle home!”
One groschen. The price of a few loaves of bread at the market or a bellyful of beer at the tavern. It was a groundbreaking price that even commoners could afford if they set their minds to it. And to top it off, it was guaranteed by the King? The support of the Prague citizens for the current King was absolute. The belief that something guaranteed by the King who defeated the Crusaders and solved the hunger crisis must be different began to take root.
“The scent is certainly good.”
“It’s like being in an orchard.”
People began to open their purses, one by one. They were mostly curious youths or women sick to death of their husbands’ sweat. “Give me one. I’ll try it out, even if I’m being fooled.”
“Give me one too. I’ll use it to wash my kid.”
Clink, clink—
The sound of silver coins falling into the bucket echoed. Jan sold the soap with excitement. But that was it. Once the initial interest passed, the sales speed slowed significantly. Most people still stood by with their arms crossed, just watching.
“It looks good, but… is it necessary?”
“For one groschen, I could have several beers…”
To medieval people, stench was as natural as the air. Since hygiene was a foreign concept, soap was just an unnecessary expense, no matter how cheap. To those who believed that splashing water on themselves once a week—no, once a month—was enough to live, soap was merely a luxury item they could live without.
Jan bit his lip anxiously. ‘What do I do? There’s still so much soap left in the cart…’ If he returned like this, he would surely face the wrath of Guild Master Josef. That was when the Guild Master’s final instruction flashed through Jan’s mind.
‘If the people won’t buy it… use the method the King taught us.’
Jan swallowed hard. He pulled a large kitchen knife from under the cart.
Shing—
The people flinched and stepped back at the sight of the blade flashing in the sunlight. “W-what? Why are you pulling out a knife?”
“Are you trying to force a sale?”
Instead of answering, Jan placed a bar of soap on a cutting board. Then, without hesitation, he drove the knife down.
Thwack! Thwack!
In an instant, the hard soap was sliced into small pieces like cubed cheese. While the people murmured in confusion, Jan grabbed a handful of the soap pieces.
“Everyone! Is the money a waste? Are you hesitant because you don’t know what soap is?” Jan held out the soap pieces toward the people gathered in the square. “Then I will give it to you for free!”
“……Huh?”
The people’s thoughts ground to a halt. What did he just say? He’s giving the soap away for free?
Jan shoved a piece of soap into the hand of a dazed porter. “It’s free! Take it and use it! Use it, and if it’s good, come back!”
The porter took the small, hard piece in a daze. The fragrant apple scent pierced his nose. ‘…This is free?’
Jan didn’t stop. He gave a piece of soap to a woman holding a child, to an old man who was watching, to a beggar who was drooling, and to a child. “Here, take it! It’s a gift from His Majesty! It’s free! I’m not taking money! Just take it!”
The destructive power of the word ‘free’ was truly immense. People who had been standing by with their arms crossed just moments ago instantly changed their expressions and rushed forward.
“Me! Give me one too!”
“It’s free? Really?”
“Hey! Give me one here too!”
The area around the cart instantly became a scene of chaos. Jan could barely keep his balance as people reached out and shoved each other to be the first to receive one. The reactions of the people who held solid soap for the first time in their lives were varied. One child tried to put it in his mouth because it smelled so good, only to get a smack on the back from his mother, while an old man rubbed it against his clothes and tucked it into his bosom as if he had obtained a jewel.
By the time the sun was setting, the soap that had filled the cart was hitting the bottom. It was a quantity of hundreds of bars, but less than a tenth had been sold for money. Financially, it was a massive loss. But Jan’s expression was not dark. Because this was something the King had permitted.
“Alright, that’s it for today! I’ll be back tomorrow!”
In the hands of the Prague citizens returning home, each held a piece of white soap. And the apple scent spreading from their hands was slowly, very slowly, pushing the air of Prague, which had been filled with the smell of sweat and urine, out of the way.
As Jan packed up the empty cart, he felt a premonition. That the people who had received the free soap today would return tomorrow, silver coins in hand.