12 Journey Through the Middle Ages 012

The sugar extraction rate was only 2%, which meant that one ton of sugar beets yielded just 20 kilograms of sugar. At this time, one pound weighed about 350 grams, so 20 kilograms was roughly 57 pounds (where one pound originally represented a pound of silver, a unit of account throughout the Middle Ages, although no coin with a face value of one pound ever circulated. By the late Middle Ages, a pound no longer contained a full pound of silver because one pound equaled 240 pennies, but the silver content of a penny kept decreasing).

Even so, the venture was still very profitable. One pound of high-quality sugar sold for 2 sous per pound on the market (one sou equals 12 pennies), so 57 pounds fetched 1,368 pennies.

The purchase price for sugar beets was 10 pounds per penny—the beetroot was a moderately high-priced vegetable, after all, it provided the rare sweetness of the medieval era. However, vegetables, especially root vegetables, were generally considered lowly food, and their prices rarely rose very high unless under special circumstances.

It should be noted that the purchasing power of one penny was still quite considerable at this time. Although the finest pearls could cost 1,000 pennies each, and silk around a couple hundred pennies per yard, one should not think the penny was worthless. Those were luxury goods; for ordinary daily necessities, one penny went a long way.

For example, one penny could buy two chickens, or 24 eggs, or about ten pounds of wheat, or one pound of the cheapest dried fruits—usually locally produced raisins or dried figs.

Therefore, buying ten pounds of sugar beets for one penny was a fair price.

Calculating at ten pounds of beets per penny, one ton would cost about 286 pennies, barely a fraction of the sugar’s selling price. If the beets were homegrown, costs could be reduced even further. Aside from raw materials, labor and fuel costs were negligible in beet sugar production—skilled workers like carpenters earned less than three pennies per day on average!

Satisfied with these calculations, Louisa threw herself into her work with great enthusiasm. That winter, she managed to produce 850 pounds of sugar—a figure limited only by insufficient raw materials; otherwise, the output could have been even higher.

To produce that much sugar, the beets used could have been transported in a single modern 9.6-meter truckload, but at that time, the reserves of beet farmers in Troyes and its surrounding areas had already been exhausted. There were very few farmers specializing in vegetables; most grew only enough for their own families.

Sugar beets were just one of many vegetables, so even attempting to purchase large quantities was limited.

In fact, 850 pounds of sugar was not a vast amount. Louisa had it stored in wine barrels. Wine barrels came in various sizes; she used the smaller ones—each holding about thirty liters, which could be transported on mule or donkey backs. Smaller barrels were typically reserved for smuggling or especially precious wines.

These barrels held roughly 125 pounds of sugar each, and Louisa filled just under seven barrels. The barrels were placed inside wooden crates, with lime packed in the spaces between to absorb moisture and prevent the sugar from clumping. Though this added to transport costs, sugar was a valuable commodity worth the expense.

Moreover, Louisa suspected the count would not sell this sugar, so transportation costs might never come into play.

The count himself could easily consume 850 pounds of sugar—not all personally, of course, but between the court at Brudot and the rewards given to attendants, it was a manageable quantity. As Louisa had heard from a spice merchant in the market, the Crown Prince of Gotland once purchased 1,000 pounds at a time.

Furthermore, for secrecy reasons, it was necessary not to reveal that Brudot could produce sugar before large shipments were made... Whether this secrecy could be maintained long-term was a question for the future.

Still, secrecy did not mean producing blindly without any preparations or simply selling everything outright. At this time, commercial trade channels were very limited, and local protectionism was widespread; almost every market had its own owners. So even highly sought-after goods were difficult to sell immediately without confirmed orders—retail was another matter, but bulk wholesale worked this way.

At most, popular goods were easier to negotiate orders for.

Therefore, Louisa, as the future lady of Brudot, invited Mr. Filippo Pebati, a partner of the Pebati Company in Brudot.

By now, the concept of a “company” was already established, and the Pebati Company was considered a “super company.” Such super companies were a relatively new phenomenon, but had already wielded remarkable influence since their inception. They did not appear suddenly, however.

Long ago, local lords realized their markets were valuable assets, especially when sold as licenses to a select few merchants, which could yield greater profits. While open competition might benefit the general populace, it did not necessarily serve feudal lords best.

Granting privileges, even monopolies, to certain merchants in exchange for significant sums and loans was the lubricant and tonic essential to maintaining operations and status for war-torn and luxury-loving noble lords.

Which merchants had the capital to lend large sums to these war-mongering lords? Only those involved in “big business”—dominant players in textiles, grain, spices, gems, and alike, with vast capital and extensive trade networks.

While providing loans, they also acquired greater market control. As long as the loans were not unprofitable, that was sufficient.

Lords at the time were expert at defaulting; no matter how high the interest, a lord’s failure to repay meant effectively no return. Thus, the profits from these high-interest loans were often low or even negative.

Ultimately, lending large sums to unreliable lords was done to support other more profitable enterprises.

These merchants, united by kinship or region, raised capital and formed companies—these were the “super companies.”

The Pebati Company of Lorraine was one such super company of this era, and Filippo Pebati was a partner as well as head of its Brudot branch. He and other super company partners deeply rooted in Brudot were always esteemed guests at the Brudot court.

Louisa observed Filippo Pebati: a man with black hair, olive complexion, and bright, sharp eyes. Calling him old seemed inappropriate—Filippo was just past his prime, but did not appear aged.

Perhaps it was his upright bearing or his keen and capable demeanor that made him seem younger than he was.

He was the cousin of the contemporary head of the Pebati family, but with many relatives, cousin status was not remarkable. Without ability, he would not have become a partner or managed the important Brudot branch—Brudot’s office was vital due to the region’s dense and prosperous population and the bustling Brudot market.

As Louisa studied Filippo, he was likewise observing her—the future ruler of this wealthy land. It was their first meeting, but he admitted the young Lady Louisa left a deep impression at first glance.

She was a charming lady of noble yet fresh bearing. Filippo, with his experience and insight, judged that Prince Philip would be fortunate indeed to have such a stunning wife, especially combined with her dowry and the wealth of Brudot—a dream come true!

Yet what impressed him most was the contrast. He had known Louisa grew up in a convent and expected to converse with a somewhat rigid woman. But upon first meeting her, he immediately knew she was no ordinary lady.

Her demeanor toward him—a partner in a major company—was neither disdainful nor deferential, not even curious. It was the calm assurance of someone who had seen and tried much, not naïveté. Filippo had met more than a dozen noblewomen, including Louisa’s own sisters.

Most were ignorant of companies like Pebati, either despising them for greed that defied divine will or viewing them simply as wealthier merchants, oblivious to their profound influence on the land.

Occasionally, some high-status ladies aware of their power would react with envy or wariness.

But Louisa Barzach—traditionally called “Louisa of Brudot”—exuded an air of normalcy and ease. Fully understanding what “Pebati” meant, it seemed ordinary to her, woven into her everyday life. She knew exactly how to engage with it, without rejection or fear.

Not just in the convent, but few women in the secular world showed such qualities, especially at her young age.