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CHAPTER 18

A Trial In The Court Of Mainz
November 6, 1455

      AS THEY sat in the courtroom, Peter's heart ached for the old man beside him. Johann Gutenberg's gray head was bowed hopelessly on his chest, and he hardly seemed to listen to the talk around him.

      Peter, on the other hand, was tense and over-alert. He stared around the chill courtroom. Why did it have to be so dark in here? Glancing up at the small, high-set windows he wondered how they could let in so much of the icy November air, and still admit so little light!

      He and Gutenberg were seated on a long, low bench that ran across the exact center of the room. Witnesses for the case were ranged along the length of the bench. Directly in front of them, and facing them, were the three raised chairs that were reserved for the judges.

      Johann Fust, bundled in a fur-lined cloak, had placed himself slightly to one side. No bench for him! He had already sent a servant back to his house to fetch him a chair.

      Behind Peter, at the back of the room, the spectators huddled, whispering and stamping their feet to keep warm. In spite of wearing their heaviest cloaks and hats, most of them were chilled to the bone after walking here through the heavy snowfall outside.

      Only the lawyers looked brisk and warm — perhaps because they were pacing about the room, waving their arms and arguing with each other.

      Finally, Nicolas, the town clerk came strutting in. At the front of the room, he struck a pose and bawled, "Everybody rise!"

      A side door opened and three judges entered. Peter looked at them eagerly, trying to decide whether they would be sympathetic or hostile. But he could guess nothing from their solemn faces. He saw only that they were all elderly men, dressed in dark, rich robes.

      They crossed the room with great dignity, and took their chairs. They were well aware of the importance of the occasion. The eldest, who was seated in the central chair, nodded first to Nicolas and then to the lawyers. "Let us begin," he said.

      Each of the lawyers spoke briefly, and then Johann Fust got up and faced the judges. "Gentlemen," he said, "In the spring of 1450, Johann Gutenberg borrowed from me the sum of 800 guilders, which he agreed to repay with five percent interest, at the end of two years. As collateral for the loan, he offered his printing equipment, metal type, printed papers, and so forth — that is to say, if he did not pay me at the agreed time, I would receive that property instead of my money. Here is the mortgage. It was signed by Johann Gutenberg and by me, and correctly witnessed by my head clerk, Conrad Henkis."

      Fust got up and handed the papers to the eldest judge, who examined it closely.

      Then the judge looked up and asked, "Mr. Gutenberg, do you deny what Mr. Fust has said, or dispute the truth of this document?"

      Gutenberg shook his head indifferently, and the judge passed the papers to the two men next to him. Each of them read everything carefully before returning the mortgage to Johann Fust.

      Watching all this, Peter's heart sank. It was true, then, Fust owned everything. What hope could there be of saving the printing shop now?

      The banker put his papers away and took out a second sheaf of documents. He stood up again.

      "To proceed: when the two years had passed, Johann Gutenberg did not repay the money he owed me. Although he had rebuilt his printing press, bought metal to make his type, and hired several assistants, he had done almost no actual printing — and he had spent the small payments he received for what little printing he did complete. He was destitute again." Saying this, Fust gave a little snort and threw Gutenberg a look of complete scorn.

      Gutenberg never glanced up.

      "I should probably have foreclosed the debt then and there," Fust continued. "But I have a tender heart, so I took pity on my debtor . . ."

      From the back of the room, somebody snickered and Fust whirled about. "Who calls that an untruth," he snapped. But the faces of the spectators showed nothing, and nobody answered him.

      After glaring at the crowd for a moment, Fust turned back to the judges and went on in an injured tone, "As I said, I did take pity on him. First I gave him almost a full year of grace. Then — because I foolishly thought that this printing invention of his might be worth something — I actually advanced him a second 800 guilders (a very handsome sum, you'll agree!). In exchange for this money, he was to create for me a hundred or more copies of a fine printed Bible, complete in every way, and equal in quality to the finest manuscript Bible that money could buy!"

      He waved the papers in the air for everyone to see. "Here is the agreement! The terms are perfectly clear. The Bibles were to be delivered in January of this year: ten months ago! Mr. Gutenberg agreed to this willingly — and the signature was witnessed by his own employee, a young man called Peter Schoeffer, who is here today in this courtroom!"

      The eldest judge turned toward Peter. "Are you Peter Schoeffer?"

      By now, Peter was so tense that he had begun to feel a little sick. Nevertheless, he stood up and said politely, "Yes, sir."

      Nodding to the clerk, the judge said, "Nicolas, take the papers over there so he can see them. Now look at the document, Schoeffer. Do you recognize the signature?"

      "Yes, sir. That's my writing."

      "And did you see Johann Gutenberg sign this agreement?"

      Peter didn't want to answer. It wasn't fair, he thought. He wanted to help Gutenberg succeed — not to harm him! Remembering what Ulrich Zell had said, he wondered whether he really should lie and try to discredit the banker. After all, maybe Zell was right; wasn't the Great Bible more important than one little untruth?

      Johann Fust leaned forward. His head was turned slightly to one side, and he was frowning. Gutenberg looked up at Peter, and for the first time, something like hope showed in his face.

      Still Peter hesitated. At the side of the room, John Mentelin was leaning against the wall, biting his lip. Beside Mentelin stood Zell, glaring at him.

      All this time, the judge had been waiting, watching him, and now he said, almost kindly, "Yes, it's right to think before you speak, young man. But answer now, and remember that truth is our only weapon against injustice — and God, Himself, is the final judge of this trial."

      As Peter met the judge's eyes, he made his decision. Taking a deep breath, he said, "Yes sir. He signed it."

      The old man beside him gave a great sigh, and Peter felt a stab of guilt. He knew he had done what was right . . . but at that moment, he felt absolutely terrible about it!

      Yet perhaps there was still time to mend things! He took a step forward, saying eagerly, "But consider, Sirs — Judges — if we could have only a little more time! We are so close to finishing the Great Bible that in only a few more months and we would surely be able to . . ."

      "That's enough, young man," the judge said firmly. "Be seated!"

      So Peter sat down again, and the trial went on.

      Johann Fust testified how the debt had come due, that the Bible had not been delivered, and that he had paid still more bills during the past year. "But now I will not — cannot! — pour any more guilders into this hopeless experiment," he concluded grimly.

      "If Johann Gutenberg can't deliver those books, he should pay back the money I've given him to produce them. If he cannot do either of those things, then he must leave the printing shop . . . which now belongs to me!" Saying those words, Fust sat down again, looking even more dour and angry than usual.

      After that, three other bankers testified that before Gutenberg had begun his dealings with Fust, he had borrowed various sums of money from them and never repaid them.

      Then several citizens of Mainz got up and spoke for Gutenberg. They assured the judges that the old printer did not spend money on fine dinners or rich clothes. Instead, he was a man of great dedication, whose only interest was in his work. Doctor Homery made a long, impassioned speech, praising his friend and saying that he believed Gutenberg would certainly be able to deliver the Bibles within a few months. Martin Mair, the Archbishop's chancellor, testified that Gutenberg was a good man and a good son of the church.

      The judges listened carefully to everything that was said, sometimes stopping one of the witnesses to ask a thoughtful question. Then, when the last witness had finished speaking, they began to whisper together.

      Everyone waited in tense silence.

      At last, the eldest judge came to his feet and faced the courtroom. "This is our decision: Each of these papers presented by Mr. Johann Fust is a correct legal document, and each attests to a valid debt."

      A sigh moved through the crowded room.

      "Mr. Johann Gutenberg, please stand up." The old man rose and faced the judge, who continued, "Sir, I congratulate you on the loyalty of your friends. They have convinced us that you sincerely intended to complete the work you had agreed to do, and you did not try to cheat Mr. Fust. However, that does not change the fact that you have taken his money, and although the agreed-on time has long passed, you have never delivered the books he ordered. He has the legal right to payment. The total of the sums advanced, including interest, amounts to 2,026 guilders. Can you pay this debt?"

      Gutenberg hardly glanced up. Wordlessly, he shook his head.

      "Then here is our judgment: I declare that all the contents of your printing shop — presses, metal type, printed and unprinted papers, and everything else under that roof — are the legal property of Mr. Johann Fust. You may return today and take away your personal possessions, such as your clothes, your bedding, and so forth. Then you must depart from the shop and leave everything else behind you."

      The second judge rose to his feet. "And so say I also."

      The third judge nodded. "And I, too. The court is dismissed."

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