Things were going too smoothly. War was on the horizon with King Ine of Mercia, but victory was a foregone conclusion. That may be hubris on my part, but the disparity in weapons left no doubt about the outcome.
People were pouring into the empty lands in Kent, Sussex, and Wessex. Our oil production in the Spanish Marches was exceeding our needs. While our people continued to explore for new seeps and possible wells, there was no urgency in developing the finds.
The port at Anglet was growing as traders came from the Mediterranean Sea to see what was available. It would have been natural to use oil as a trade item, but I decided it best to keep its production a secret for now. There were a lot of transshipments from Saltash and Tintagel of items produced there.
The Italian and Turkish traders were smart enough to learn the source of these wonderful items and soon showed up in Saltash, hoping for better prices. Mirrors were in great demand. No one had ever seen any with clarity like ours.
What they didn't know was our pricing was exchanged by spark gap radio, so we knew what the going rate was everywhere.
We even had caravans carrying radio equipment to Rome and Constantinople. The intention was to set up stations outside the cities in secluded areas. The antenna would have to be disguised. If a tall enough tree was nearby, the antenna wire could be run up.
My people were working diligently on the first short-wave radio communication out of the Keep at Poldhu. I chose this spot for its historical value. I was the only one that got it. It wasn't a big deal, so I didn't explain it to anyone, including Eleanor.
Using an electrical generator rated at 25kW and a curtain aerial array, they worked at 80 meters or 3.75 MHz. They successfully had voice communications with London. The equipment was included in the caravans headed to Rome and Constantinople. In case these didn't work, spark gap radios were included. I knew we could transmit voice over six thousand miles with ionospheric reflection.
If we could get a handle on vacuum tubes, we could go worldwide someday.
If we were successful with our short-wave radio at a distance, we could gain a real-time estimate of Roman politics. The market information would be invaluable. Needless to say, short-wave radio was a close-held secret.
I would love to institute phonographs, symphonic orchestras, and AM radio. But there just weren't enough hours in the day. I dictated a few books on the subjects and made them public to see what would happen.
Most of the instruments used in an orchestra weren't even invented yet.
One afternoon, while I was working through my eternal pile of paperwork, Tom Smith came barging into my office.
"Come with me. I have something for you to see."
You think I would have been reluctant to leave the paperwork. Instead, I was out of there like a shot. Thad, who had been taking dictation as I gave directions on actions to be taken, and the two guards who always accompanied me had to run to catch up with Tom and me.
"Why are we running like this?"
"I don't know you are the one that started this. I only wanted to show you the latest attempt at a farm tractor."
"Oh, I guess I had to get away from the office. It seems like all I do anymore is read reports."
"Aye, I had that problem."
"Had?"
"Several people read my business reports before they reach my desk if they can handle the issue they do. If they can't, they list what needs to be authorized, and I review those reports."
I wanted to scream.
In the Army, that is what my staff officers were for. Things were about to change! I wondered how I had allowed myself to become bogged down like that.
At Toms's prototype shop, there was a monster puffing steam. A huge steam-powered tractor. The rear drive wheels were at least six feet in diameter. The metal wheels had treads at an angle to give traction on the muddiest field. I bet someone would get one buried in the mud sooner rather than later.
We climbed aboard using a ladder at the back of the engineer's station. We took off on a wild ride at five miles per hour. With every kid in the neighborhood, and their dogs were chasing us.
My poor guards had caught up with me just as the tractor rolled away. They tried to keep up but were soon huffing and puffing, falling behind again. They were good guys, and I did not laugh at them. But it was funny.
We reached an empty field and stopped. There was a gang plow arrangement waiting. It was attached to the back of the tractor by waiting workers.
Our operator started us up once more. He was pulling levers like crazy. It looked overly complicated, but what did I know? He seemed to enjoy using the whistle a bit much. But then, with all the kids running about, maybe it was for the best.
The plow dug in, and you could feel some strain on the tractor, but not much. It plowed a swath ten feet wide the length of the field. We plowed ten acres in under an hour.
This would change the face of farming.
I asked Tom if the average farmer could afford one.
"They are so expensive the best way is to create a company that owns the tractor and plows the fields with a charge per acre."
"I bet you have already formed the company."
"You bet, want in? I will sell you twenty percent of the shares. It will help to have your name on the Board of Directors."
"How much do I get paid for being on the board."
That stopped him cold. This was all new to this day and age, and he hadn't planned on paying me anything. He thought he could get my name for free. If it was anyone but Tom, I might have let them use it gratis. As Tom has frequently told me, "That is what friends are for."
It was fun to watch the emotions on his face. I felt so sorry for him that I paid for the beer later.
While we were having our beer in our regular spot, Tom brought up an idea about the radio that had been suggested to him by one of his technicians.
The radio on my train had been upgraded to voice. The problem remained the same. You needed a large, in this case, a long and wide antenna array to increase the distance you could communicate.
Using sponsons from car to car we could carry a long antenna until we reached a curve to sharp for the antenna length. Unfortunately, there were multiple cases of these curves as we moved through Cornwall and parts of Wessex.
The technician suggested the antenna be segmented so it could be unfolded both sideways for width and lengthwise. It would take a small steam engine to raise the heavy antenna, but that would be no problem.
The train would have to be stopped for this to work, but it would give worldwide, at least our settled world, communication.
A small model had been made, and Tom wanted me to stop by tomorrow to see how it would work. I agreed.
We also agreed that we had been in enough trouble with our wives recently about staying out too late, drinking too much beer, and calling it a night. Some things will never change.
In the morning, Tom's place was my first stop of the day. I was looking forward to seeing the solution. It was good that a possible solution was in the works. It was more than good that a locally educated technician came up with a twentieth-century solution.
This would validate our educational program and show I didn't have to be the font of all wisdom. If I died tomorrow, things could still move on. Not that I wanted to die. I had children for the first time in my two lives and was enjoying them to no end.
The model was elegant. If it worked like this at full scale, the problem was solved.
"So the only hold-up will be heating the water in the boiler of the engine that will hoist this."
The technician, Andrew Owen-nap, replied, "We have that in hand. There is a small boiler in the kitchen cars to keep that water hot. We can pipe it so preheated water can be injected into the hoisting engine's boiler. That cuts the time to raise the antenna to ten to fifteen minutes."
"Wonderful!"
"Since the hoist engine isn’t mounted on the roof but low on the observation platform at the rear of the car, we can fire up the hoist engine boiler and start feeding in the hot water before the train comes to a stop. From the time the decision is made to stop the train to being able to transmit will be less than half an hour."
He then proceeded to demonstrate the model in action. It worked perfectly and smoothly. I asked him about the total weight and how it would affect the car or the train as a whole.
"We took that into account. It is well within the ranges of the car support and the engine pulling power."
I looked sternly at Andrew and told him, "On your knees, Andrew Owen-nap."
With a fearful look in his eyes, he obeyed me. Tom was about to step in, but I waved him off. Picking up the longest screwdriver on the workbench, I tapped the quaking technician on each shoulder.
"Arise, Sir Andrew Owen-nap. You have been Knighted for coming up with a solution to this vexing problem."
The young man stood up with the widest and silliest grin I have ever seen.
Tom said, "Well, that tears it. This young man and my oldest daughter have been mooning over each other for months, but I told her he is below her class. Her mother and she both wanted this match. You have taken my only objection away."
He turned to Andrew. "Go tell her what has transpired."
To me, "Thank you, James. I approve of Andrew, but the social gap was too wide."
"He earned it with his thought and work, I know the social gap is wide but in my time we didn't have that gap. In theory, if I'm to be honest. If the couple were never in the same social status, there was a small chance of them having a meaningful meeting."
A sudden scream of joy told us how the news went over.
I turned to Thad and told him, "We can return to the Keep now. Our work here is done."
Oh, how I wish someone could appreciate the context behind some of the phrases I used.
Returning home, I updated Eleanor on my morning. She smiled as I told her about Knighting Andrew Owen-nap.
"Tom's wife and I have been wondering how we could bring him around. He has been stubborn as a mule about it. Knighting the young man not only solves that problem, it also helps break down those social barriers you are always complaining about. If an orphan can become educated, have a good job, and gain a Knighthood, there are no limits on what a person can achieve in Cornwall."
I hadn't put that together yet, and it made a good day better.
Cathy, who was eating her breakfast, quietly spoke up. "See, Daddy, if there are no limits, I can become a Princess."
I said, "Yes, dear, I guess you can."
All while thinking, there is no way I'm going to conquer nations to make your childhood fantasy come true.
Eleanor gave me an enigmatic grin.