WeTried Translations

Translator/Editor: Ceaseless

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◈ The Medieval Heretic King is Too Good at Developing ◈

Chapter 58: Sternberg's Holy Soap (2)

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The next day.

Dong, dong, dong...

The deep bells of the belfry, announcing Sunday morning, rang across Prague.

On an ordinary day, the citizens would have lingered in bed, but Prague had been bustling since dawn. People hurriedly dressed and poured into the streets.

Their footsteps all led to one place.

Týn Church, towering over Old Town Square.

Murmurs filled the air.

The church was already packed so tightly that there was barely room to stand.

Masses in the past had been endlessly dull.

A priest would mutter incomprehensible Latin from the distant altar, while the congregation could only stand there blankly, fighting back yawns or dozing off.

Things were different now. Bohemia's religious reform had completely changed the nature of worship.

Each congregant held a thick book in their hands.

An affordable Czech Bible printed by the Royal Printing House.

They were plain bundles of paper, with neither leather bindings nor gold decoration, yet people held them close to their chests as though they were treasures.

"Quiet, everyone! Mass is beginning!"

A priest stepped up to the altar.

Instead of ceremonial robes embroidered with glittering gold thread, the Hussite priest wore simple black clerical robes that symbolized poverty.

He was Jan Rokycana, the spiritual pillar of Bohemia's Hussites and leader of the Utraquists.

Rokycana stood at the pulpit and opened his Bible.

"Brothers and sisters, today we shall read together the word the Lord has given us."

The language that flowed from his lips was not Latin.

It was Czech, the familiar, plain mother tongue spoken in Prague's markets, taverns, and family dining rooms.

"Matthew, chapter ten, verse eight."

Following Rokycana's lead, thousands of congregants opened their Bibles at once.

Those who could read recited the passage aloud, while those who could not listened and joined in.

"Heal the sick, raise the dead, cleanse the lepers, and cast out demons. Freely you have received, freely give... This is the word of the Lord."

"Thanks be to God."

Thousands of voices blended together and rang through the church.

As the Mass drew to a close, after the Gospel reading, Rokycana fell silent for a moment.

In his hand was a note delivered from Prague Castle. It was the King's personal letter, sent under the guise of special sermon instructions.

He looked down from the pulpit at the congregation.

"Brothers and sisters."

Rokycana's solemn voice echoed through the church. The noise died down, and every gaze turned toward the pulpit.

"Today, I wish to speak to you about how purity of the body is connected to the salvation of the soul."

After a brief pause, Rokycana abruptly posed a question.

"Have any of you heard of the soap guaranteed by the King?"

Murmurs rose among the congregation. Those who had received free soap at the market yesterday spoke up.

"Ah, the one that smells like apples?"

"We have some at home too!"

Rokycana nodded and opened a box placed beneath the pulpit.

He took out an ivory-colored bar of soap and raised it high, as though lifting the Host.

"That is correct. I speak of this white soap distributed at the market yesterday. Many of you may think it is simply something to wash your body with."

Strength entered Rokycana's voice.

"But this is an object specially consecrated by the Church, filled with God's grace."

The congregation's eyes widened.

It was not ordinary soap, but a blessed holy object?

"We live in an age of pestilence. Outside, the demon called the Black Death, the unseen shadow of death, is waiting for us. What does that demon ride upon? Foul odors!"

Rokycana's eyes burned.

As one of the greatest intellectuals of his age, he believed in the miasma theory of bad air.

"Filth is sin! The stench rising from an unwashed body is like an invitation for demons. Fragrance, on the other hand, is God's blessing. The Bible tells us that the Garden of Eden was always filled with sweet scents."

The congregation was drawn into Rokycana's sermon.

The words of the Hussite leader carried an authority no one could resist.

"This soap bestowed by the royal household carries a powerful fragrance that drives away demons, along with a blessing. Use it, and the demon of pestilence will not dare invade your body."

The congregation stirred.

The soap fragments they had received for free yesterday and tossed into a corner now began to feel like holy relics.

"So listen! This is not a recommendation. It is a sacred duty, necessary to preserve the body and cleanse the soul."

Rokycana pressed on and began giving specific instructions.

"First! Wash your hands every day. When you return home after working outside, before you sit at the table and pick up bread, and after you finish your meal. Throughout the day, you must wash your hands with soap and cover your body in its fragrance. You must wash away the evil clinging to your fingertips."

The congregation nodded and listened intently.

"Second! Before husband and wife share sacred love, you must cleanse your bodies with soap. Love shared with a dirty body is nothing but carnal desire, but love shared with bodies purified by fragrance will resemble the joy of Heaven."

Several married couples blushed and looked at one another.

"And third! This is the most important."

Rokycana looked around at the women in the church with a grave expression.

"Before giving birth, both the midwife and the mother must wash their entire bodies with soap and cleanse their hands. A newborn life is fragile and easily becomes a target for demons. But if the mother's and the midwife's hands are wrapped in the fragrance of soap, the child to be born will safely see the light of this world within the Lord's grace!"

Exclamations burst out from every corner.

At the time, the death rate among mothers and newborns from puerperal fever was horrifyingly high.

To medieval people, who had regarded it as the work of demons, the concrete solution of soap offered by a respected priest was no different from the Gospel itself.

Then someone in the crowd shouted.

"Father Rokycana! I did not receive any royal soap! Does that mean the demons will take me?"

"I did not get any either! I'll buy it if I must, so please tell us where it is sold!"

Cries from people seized by anxiety rained down.

Fear and the yearning for salvation filled the church.

Rokycana calmed the congregation with a deliberately gentle smile.

"Do not worry. The Lord's grace does not dwell only within a particular object. It does not matter if it is not soap guaranteed by the King."

Rokycana spread his arms and declared in a compassionate voice.

"If you have soap at home that you have already been using, or if you obtain other soap from the market, bring it to the church. The Church will bestow a blessing upon that soap as well!"

"Ooh...!"

"Any soap will have the same effect if you use it with a pure heart. What matters is the act of washing itself, not the tool!"

If he had declared that only royal soap worked, it would have been reduced to nothing more than a market seller's pitch.

Yet his promise to bless every kind of soap only made royal soap seem more trustworthy.

"Mass is over. Congregants, go in peace."

With Rokycana's closing declaration, the congregation made the sign of the cross together.

"Amen."

On an ordinary Sunday, people would have gathered in small groups to chat or headed home at a leisurely pace.

It was customary to ask after neighbors they had not seen in a while, buy bread from a stall at the corner of the square, and enjoy a quiet Sunday.

But today's amen was not a peaceful farewell.

It was closer to the starting signal for racehorses.

As though a dam had burst, thousands of people flooded out of the church at once.

"Move! I'm getting out first!"

"Do not push! Someone will get trampled to death!"

They had only one destination.

The corner of Old Town Square where the soap seller had brought a cart yesterday.

* * *

At the same time.

Jan, a worker for the Soap Guild, stood beside his cart and let out one heavy sigh after another.

"Whew... I hope we sell some today."

Ivory-colored soap was stacked neatly on the cart. Yet passersby only sniffed at it and showed no sign of opening their purses.

'Perhaps giving it away for free yesterday was less effective than I thought?'

Just then.

From the entrance to the alley where Týn Church stood, Jan spotted a cloud of dust approaching the square.

"W-What is that? Did the Hussite radicals rise up again?"

Jan panicked and hid behind the cart.

But what emerged through the dust cloud was not an armed mob.

It was Prague citizens clutching silver coins, their eyes bloodshot.

"There he is!"

"The soap seller!"

Hundreds of people rushed at Jan like an angry wave.

"Give us soap! Give us royal soap!"

"Here's money! I'll give you ten groschen, so give me ten bars!"

"Move! Will you take responsibility if my child catches the Black Death?!"

People shoved one another and howled as they thrust silver coins in Jan's face.

Jan felt his mind go blank.

"Aah! W-Wait! Do not push!"

Good sales were one thing, but at this rate he would be trampled to death before he could sell a single bar.

He leaped onto the cart and shouted.

"Everyone, calm down! If you do not keep order, I will not sell any soap! How can you treat an item bearing His Majesty's honor like animals?"

At the mention of the King, people flinched and stepped back.

Jan seized the chance and quickly cried out.

"Supplies are limited, and many brothers and sisters want soap. Therefore!"

He held up one finger.

"One per person! Only one bar each! Hoarding is forbidden!"

Instant protests erupted from the crowd.

"That is absurd! There are five people in my family!"

"Why won't you sell it when we have the money?!"

Complaints poured out from every direction, but Jan did not even blink. Instead, he shouted louder.

"It is His Majesty's will! Do you not see that this is the King's mercy, so that more of his people may receive grace equally? Monopoly is a sin, for it steals away another's salvation!"

At Jan's rebuke, the complaints quickly died down.

Who would dare argue when it was the King's will?

"Form a line! Have your money ready! I will not sell soap to anyone who cuts in line!"

Clink, clink, clink...

The sound of silver coins falling into the container continued without pause.

The mountain of soap piled on the cart vanished as quickly as melting snow.

Jan handed out soap and accepted money without a moment's rest, unable to hide his smile.

Yesterday, people would only take it if it was free. Today, it had become such a precious item that there was not enough of it to sell.

* * *

The next destination for those who had acquired soap was the public bathhouses, Lázně, scattered across Prague.

"Let's go to the bathhouse!"

"We need to wash quickly, before demons cling to us!"

Usually, Prague's public bathhouses were almost deserted.

At most, they were visited from time to time by idle men looking for prostitutes or wealthy merchants preparing for a special occasion.

Today, though, every bathhouse in Prague was enjoying an unprecedented boom.

"Hey, hey! Do not push! The changing room is full!"

"Please, just let me in! I brought soap!"

The changing rooms were already so crowded with people undressing, dressing, and waiting their turn that there was barely room to stand.

"Well, if it isn't Jakub?"

"Ha ha, Lukáš, you came too. I thought you only washed once a year at Easter."

The two neighbors who happened to meet at the bathhouse each held a white piece of soap, as though they had arranged it beforehand.

"You're trying it too? That... royal soap."

"I was just about to lather it up. I have to see whether what the priest said is true."

Lukáš climbed into a wooden tub filled with hot water.

When he wet the soap and rubbed it, white foam immediately rose like a billowing cloud.

"Oh! It really smells like apples!"

"Is this God's blessing? I feel as though my head is clearing just from the scent!"

As though bewitched, people began washing their bodies with soap.

Old grime rolled off like noodles, leaving behind clean skin and fragrance.

The bathhouse maids suffered the most.

"Water! Bring more hot water!"

"We are out of firewood! Hurry and bring more!"

Their faces were covered in soot as they constantly drew water from the well and stuffed firewood into the furnace.

One maid grumbled as they carried a bucket of hot water.

"Oh, my back. Why are there so many people today?"

"How should I know? Everyone is making a fuss because some soap supposedly drives away the plague!"

Then the scent of soap suds washed from the customers brushed past the complaining maid's nose.

"But... it really does smell nice. It makes me want to buy one too."

That day, something truly miraculous happened in Prague.

From pedestrians in the streets, children running through alleyways, and even porters returning home after exhausting labor, the fresh, sweet scent of apples bloomed from people's skin.

Footnotes:

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