The King of Farmers (2)
The courtyard of the Prague Royal Palace was a chaotic, bustling mess, packed so tightly that not even a needle could have found a gap. A massive transport convoy, having crossed the rugged Alpine passes and traversed the deep forests of Bohemia, had arrived.
Dozens of wagons, flying the golden lion flags that symbolized Venice, were lined up tail-to-tail, completely filling the palace grounds.
"Good heavens..."
Janos clicked his tongue as he stared at the endless procession of wagons.
"Ten, twenty, thirty... there’s no end to them. My Lord, what on earth did you buy so much of? Venetian glassware? Silk from the East? Surely you didn't go and loot the Sultan's treasury, did you?"
I crossed my arms and chuckled.
"If you're curious, why don't you open one and see for yourself?"
"Are you sure? Well then, I shall have the honor of being the first to witness it."
Janos, excited, ran toward the nearest wagon. The cargo bed was covered with a thick, oil-treated tarp to keep out the rain.
"Now, treasures brought by raiding the Bohemian treasury, reveal yourselves...!"
Flap-!
As the tarp was pulled back, the contents of the wagon were revealed under the sunlight. At that moment, Janos froze in his tracks.
What was piled inside the wagon was not glittering gold coins, smooth silk, or transparent glass cups. There was nothing but ugly, root vegetables caked in dirt and dull, burlap sacks piled up like a mountain.
"What... is this?"
"Can't you see? It's turnips."
I picked up a dirt-covered turnip and gave it a light shake.
"And those sacks contain clover seeds."
"Tu-turnips? And clover?"
Janos, looking as if he couldn't believe his eyes, hurriedly untied one of the burlap sacks. Inside were nothing but dark, unremarkable little seeds.
"...My Lord, did you perhaps mistake these for wheat or oats? It seems those Venetian merchants have swindled you. We must send the cavalry at once to catch those con artists—"
"I bought exactly what I intended to."
"Pardon?"
Janos opened his mouth, looking utterly bewildered.
"Turnips? You spent money on those tasteless roots that only pigs eat? And clover? That’s just a weed that grows everywhere on the roadside! You brought all this way from distant Venice just for these?"
Janos's reaction was perfectly normal. By the common sense of the 15th century, turnips were famine food eaten only in times of great hardship, and clover was nothing more than a weed that ruined fields.
Yet, I had bought enough of them to fill every single farm in Bohemia, and then some. Naturally, it had cost a massive amount of capital. Even if they were cheap seeds that others wouldn't take for free, the sheer scale of this purchase was different. In Janos's eyes, it must have looked like a madman throwing money into the dirt.
But to me, it was different. These clunky lumps in my hand were the very protagonists of the agricultural revolution that would one day make England the world's greatest power.
I rubbed the dirt off the turnip with my thumb and asked.
"Janos. What do you think is the foundation of a nation?"
"Pardon? Why this sudden philosophy lecture..."
"Just answer me."
"Well... isn't it a powerful army or a full treasury? Or perhaps the steel and gunpowder you are so fond of, my Lord."
I shook my head firmly.
"Wrong."
"Then what is it?"
"The answer is agriculture."
Nong-ja-cheon-ha-ji-dae-bon (Agriculture is the great foundation of the world).
I stared out at the fields of Bohemia stretching endlessly beyond the palace walls.
"Even an army needs a full stomach to wield a sword, and a merchant needs food to conduct business. We cannot live forever by relying on imports from Poland. Ninety percent of Bohemia's population are farmers. If they are poor, the nation is poor. Only when their granaries are full can taxes be collected and commerce flourish."
A nation is ultimately built by people. And what builds those people is bread. If you feed them well, the population grows, and if the population grows, national power increases. This was an immutable truth that transcended nations and eras.
But Janos was still scratching his head, clearly not understanding.
"It is true that the people must eat well to live well... but what does that have to do with this pig feed and weeds? Does planting these make wheat grow faster?"
"Of course. Not just faster—it allows us to extract crops from the land to its absolute limit."
I tossed the turnip I was holding back into the wagon.
"Janos. Do you know how the farmers of Bohemia—no, the farmers of all Europe—farm currently?"
"That would be the three-field system, wouldn't it? Dividing the field into three, planting wheat in one, barley in another, and leaving the last one fallow."
"Correct. But why do we waste the land by letting it rest?"
Janos answered as if I were asking something obvious.
"Because the land needs to rest just like a person. If you keep planting, the soil's strength drains away, and you only get shriveled husks."
"Exactly. Because the land's strength is sapped, we force it to rest. In other words, we are throwing away one-third of our entire national territory every year as wasteland that produces nothing."
I reached deep into the burlap sack and grabbed a handful of clover seeds. The small, black grains flowed through my fingers like sand.
"But you see, this clover has a very special talent."
"A special talent? A mere weed?"
"Yes. It doesn't suck the strength out of the land; rather, it breathes the energy of the heavens into the soil."
The action of root-nodule bacteria fixing nitrogen from the air to restore soil fertility. Explaining this complex chemical mechanism to a 15th-century person was not easy. So, I borrowed the somewhat plausible expression of "energy of the heavens."
"If you plant this grass in fallow fields, the land doesn't need to rest. No, it actually recovers its strength faster than if you just left it alone. In other words, it means there is no longer any need to leave the land idle."
The disappearance of fallow land. It was effectively the same as increasing the area of arable land by over 33% in one stroke. It was like gaining the effect of expanding the territory without actually conquering new land.
Janos's eyes widened.
"The land... doesn't need to rest? Do you mean we can farm every field every year?"
"Yes. This alone will cause production to skyrocket by over 30% instantly. But the real revolution happens when it is combined with these turnips."
I tapped the wagon filled with turnips.
"Janos, what is the first thing farmers do when winter comes?"
"They slaughter their livestock. Because all the grass dies in winter, there is no fodder to feed the cows or pigs. It's common sense to eat almost everything, leaving only a few for breeding."
"That is the problem. Because they slaughter all the livestock, there are not enough oxen to plow the fields in the spring, and above all..."
I smiled.
"There is a shortage of dung."
"...Pardon? Dung?"
"Manure. The core of farming is manure. But because they kill all the livestock in winter, the most important fertilizer production factory shuts down. However—"
I took a turnip from the wagon and tossed it to Janos. He caught it in mid-air.
"These turnips can be stored without rotting even in winter. They are full of moisture and nutrients, so cows and pigs go crazy for them. In other words, if you have these turnips, there is no need to kill your livestock in winter."
"Good heavens..."
Janos blankly took a bite of the turnip. Then he spat it out.
Wait, he actually ate it. Without even washing it.
"Ugh, it's certainly a taste only a pig would enjoy. I, for one, do not wish to eat this."
That’s a statement that would make Germans 500 years later have a seizure. I chuckled and continued.
"Anyway, what happens if you keep the livestock alive through the winter? They will eat the turnips and grow plump, and they will constantly be producing dung. Then, that massive amount of manure returns to the fields."
A rotation where the land is divided into four and crops are rotated on a yearly basis. In the first year, you plant wheat to get bread for people to eat. The following year, you plant turnips in that spot to secure fodder for livestock during the winter. In the third year, you plant barley or oats. These can be eaten by people or used as fodder. In the final fourth year, you plant clover to restore soil fertility. Especially if you let livestock graze on the land where clover has grown, the livestock eat the grass and defecate on the spot, making the land twice as fertile.
This was the core of the 'Norfolk Four-Course System,' which would eventually make 18th-century England the world's strongest agricultural nation. Historically, England succeeded in increasing its population from 5.5 million in 1750 to 16 million in just 100 years, all thanks to this single farming method. I intended to bring the catalyst for that massive population explosion to this medieval Bohemian land, 300 years ahead of time.
"How about it? Do you get the idea now? Why I spent gold coins like water to scrape together these ugly roots."
"Hmm..."
Janos let out a strange sound. It was a complex and subtle expression, a mix of doubt and admiration.
"Honestly, to my eyes, it still looks like expensive pig feed and roadside weeds... but since none of the crazy things you've done so far have failed, I suppose you have something up your sleeve this time as well."
He sighed and scratched the back of his head.
"But my Lord, just because the theory is perfect doesn't mean reality will follow. It won't be as easy as you say."
"Not easy? Why?"
"I believe in you. Old man Abraham will believe in you, too. Everyone in the palace will believe in you."
Janos's gaze sharpened.
"But will the farmers who plow the fields believe in you? That is the problem."
"Hmm..."
I swallowed a groan. In truth, I had been worrying about that very thing.
"To farmers, the farming methods passed down from their ancestors are not just a matter of custom. It is survival itself. Because their fathers, their grandfathers, and their great-grandfathers farmed that way and survived without starving to death."
Janos's voice carried a sense of gravity.
"And yet, you suddenly tell them to plant weeds they've never heard of? Even if it's a royal decree, it won't take root. They will pretend to plant them in front of you, but once the watchful eyes disappear, they will secretly throw the seeds away or boil and eat them. Because they will think it ruins the land."
Janos shook his head firmly.
"If you force them to plant it and a famine occurs, how will you bear the resentment? You've bought so much of it... it's a waste, but it might all just rot in the warehouse."
It was a very accurate point. To farmers, land is life. Forcing an unverified farming method on them was no different from holding a knife to their throats. Whipping or punishment would be of little use. The fear of immediate starvation would be far greater.
Then, should I create a model farm and persuade them by showing the results over several years? That would take too long. What good is holding a winning lottery ticket if the payout is 10 or 20 years away? It would be too late. For me, having made enemies of the Pope and the Emperor, every single day was precious.
"You're right. I cannot ignore the conservatism of the farmers. To them, change is the fear of starvation."
I smiled and curled the corners of my mouth.
"That is why I intend to use a different method."
"A different method?"
Janos asked back, looking puzzled.
"If you won't use the whip and you won't use persuasion... then how on earth do you intend to move those stubborn people? Are you perhaps going to sprinkle gold coins in the fields?"
"Gold coins? No. But I do intend to sprinkle bait."
"Bait?"
"Yes. Bait that is far more certain than gold coins, and bait that any farmer would risk their life to grab."
The blueprint was already drawn in my mind. A very meticulous design that would ensure not a single grain of this massive seed supply would be left unplanted in the soil of Bohemia.