"Buying… ashes?" Stevron asked, looking confused. He was a former farmhand who had found himself out of work and down on his luck, doing odd jobs around Winter Town to make enough coin to survive. He and other men like him would be quite useful for what I had in mind.
"Yes, Stevron," I replied. "I want you to go around Winter Town and offer to take fireplace ashes from the households there. If they bring it to you, pay them two pennies per bucket. If they require you to gather it, then you don't pay them anything."
"No, I understood that, milady, but… why?"
"Because I have a use for it," I replied. "And more work for you and your fellows, if you're interested."
"Aye, I could always use the coin," he replied. "But what do you need it for?"
"Making soap," I told him, a mild smile on my face.
I had considered using tallow as the lipid for my soaps, but a brief discussion with a couple of the butchers in Winter Town quickly told me that it wasn't a viable prospect. Tallow was mostly monopolized by candle makers and other industries, and just wasn't available in large quantities. Castille soaps used olive oil, but olives are grown in Dorne, and importing the oil from the other side of Westeros would be too expensive.
That's when I remembered linseed oil, or flaxseed oil. Flax was grown in large quantities in the Riverlands, mostly to fuel their cottage linen industry. But the flax seeds were gathered and pressed to produce linseed oil, which was used as a stain and sealant for wood. Rickard the merchant had a small stock of it (a small barrel about the size of a pony keg) on hand, which I'd purchased outright.
'It'll be enough to create a few small batches of soap,' I thought. 'Enough to at least figure out the correct quantities, at any rate. Perhaps I can write to Catelyn's father? The offer to purchase linseed oil and maybe even some excess flax fiber might be well received…'
I set the thought of trade deals aside and focused instead on soapmaking. Figuring this out shouldn't be too difficult…
"Ow ow ow ow!" I moaned as I soaked my red, mildly blistered hands in cool water.
"Are you alright milady?" Stevron asked, looking concerned.
"It hurts," I hissed through clenched teeth.
"Should I… should I go get the Maester?"
"Yes, please!"
"You'll be fine in time, Lady Catelyn," Luwin reprovingly told me. "Though perhaps you should let others test this soap of yours first, hmm?
"Yes, Maester," I grudgingly replied, feeling like a scolded child.
"Now, what went wrong?" He asked.
"I was trying to make soap," I told him. "I… think I used a bit too much lye, though…"
"Well, perhaps if you had a learned scholar around to ask, perhaps this wouldn't have happened?" He pointedly chided me.
"You… know how to make soap?" I asked.
"I have never made it myself, but it was part of the subjects I studied at the Citadel," he replied with a mild smile.
"Then perhaps you can help me?" I asked.
"Very well. Show me what you were doing."
As it turned out, I was, indeed, using too much lye. I was also not letting the mixture rest (or saponify) long enough. With Maester Luwin's help, we developed two general varieties of soap; harsh soap and mild soap.
The harsh soap was made with a hot process and set rather quickly, with little excess lipids. It wasn't the most pleasant feeling on the skin, but was excellent for cleaning. It would also, I suspected, keep a doctor's hands free of bacteria if he or she washed well with hot water. Plus, it could be ground into flakes that were useful for more general cleaning purposes. It was possible to add some essential oils to give this variety a nice scent, but too much left behind a mild residue.
The mild variety of soap used slightly more oil, was very gentle on the skin (though it should be kept out of the eyes), and reacted well to added essential oils. It worked best with a cold process, but had to sit for at least a week before it was ready to be used. I had plans in the works for a line of pleasant hand soaps that I could sell alongside my skin cream, though I'd have to expand my essential oil production to make that viable in any quantity.
"Well?" I asked the Maester. He had just finished rinsing his hands under clean, cold water and was carefully inspecting them, rubbing his fingertips together to test the skin there.
"Hmm… good quality, I'd say, though the harsh soap isn't… pleasant," he mused. "The soft soaps are much more pleasant, and smell a lot better as well."
"That's to be expected," I agreed. "Most importantly, it will keep the hands clean, which is quite important."
"What makes you say that, my lady?"
"It's obvious, isn't it?" I asked.
From Catelyn's memories, the prevailing theory behind illness was a mix between theories on the humors and miasma theory. Of them, miasma theory was more solidly based in reality, though it wasn't the bad scents that caused illness, but the bacteria and rot that produced those scents. But, best not to introduce germ theory unless and until I could make a working microscope.
"If miasma causes illness, then washing away terrible scents should prevent them."
"A wise theory," Luwin nodded, smiling at me like a teacher would towards a prized student.
"Plus, I imagine washing wounds could help prevent corruption," I added, using the local term for infection and gangrene. "And the washing of hands could help prevent the spread of corruption to others."
"Oh?"
"Yes. After all, a festering wound smells quite bad, doesn't it?" I asked with an innocent expression.
"Yes… yes, I suppose it does…" he mused, looking away in thought.
Dearest Father,
I am pleased to hear that the designs for my reapers and seed drills have been so well received in the Riverlands. I dearly hope that they help make your lands more bountiful than they already are. You didn't mention them in your last letter, but have you made the carding machines, spinning machines, and the looms with the flying shuttles? I had hoped to hear how well they worked with flax fiber; I have been considering importing flax to the North and producing linen in addition to wool cloth.
On that note, I am sending this letter with Winterfell's steward, Clay Snow. I hope to negotiate the purchase of regular quantities of linseed oil and flax fiber. Given that the fields and farms of the Riverlands produce these in large quantities, and given the focus on food production here in the North, I felt it best to purchase these goods from you, father. I hope to have these goods transported to Maidenpool, from which they can be transported by sea to White Harbor, and from there to Winterfell.
In exchange for these goods, I have authorized Steward Snow to either purchase these goods at reasonable prices, or to offer equal goods from the North in exchange, or some combination of the two. To facilitate this barter, I send you a gift of many of the goods Winterfell now produces; yarn, wool cloth, felt, iron ingots, and of course my skin cream and soaps.
Business aside, I was quite disappointed neither you, Edmure, nor Uncle Brynden could attend last year's Harvest Feast. I would like to invite you again this year, though if your health or duties prevent your visit, I will be neither offended nor angry. I have been told that a number of eligible noble ladies will be in attendance this year; Edmure may finally meet a lass he finds acceptable, and stronger ties between the North and the Riverlands will bind our two lands even tighter together.
I have been quite busy as of late; with the extra coin my ventures are bringing in, I have been able to fund new ideas to improve trade and commerce in the North. Managing this in addition to raising Robb and attending to my duties with Ned has been wearing, but rewarding. Ned is very happy with me as a wife, and I expect we will soon try for another child. I, too, am quite pleased with Ned as a husband; he had been quite indulgent with me and my ideas, and has reaped the rewards of his forbearance.
I hope to see you, Edmure, and Uncle Brynden at the Harvest Feast, and I hope that you and Steward Snow can reach a satisfactory agreement.
With all my love,
Catelyn Stark.