Excerpt from The Brotherhood of Book Hunters by Raphael Jerusalmy, plus links to reviews, author biography & more

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Fust signaled to his employees to resume work and invited his eminent visitor into his office. Schoeffer and François followed, taking care to close the door behind them. Fust told Chartier that he had rented all the vacant premises on Rue Saint-Jacques. Several German printers were ready to join him, apart from his former associate Gutenberg, who persisted in his refusal to open a branch in Paris because of an old quarrel. The poor man was in debt up to his neck. He was living on a meager income allocated by the Archbishop of Nassau even though he too could have benefited from the generous patronage of Louis XI or Charles of Orléans, who were much shrewder when it came to letters than the curates of the Palatinate clergy.

Uninterested in Fust's report, François let his gaze wander over the rows of books lining the walls. In a dark corner, the flickering light of a candle made the surface of an emblazoned binding gleam. The coat of arms, struck in fine gold, was easily recognizable. It was one of the most famous in Christendom: the coat of arms of the Medicis of Florence. Curiously, these resplendent arms were deprived of their motto. In its place, the escutcheon was interspersed with motifs in matt gold that had nothing Italian or heraldic about them. François looked closely at the sinuous border, thinking suddenly he could make out Semitic characters. Hebrew and Arab themes were often used to give a biblical or Eastern connotation to the holy books. Scenes from the life of Christ were strewn with Judaic letters, as were portraits of Satan. But here, the mixture of marks of nobility and Jewish figures seemed to bear witness to an unusual union, a kind of pact. The two symbols, the Italian and the Jewish, intertwined to form a single symbol.

Noticing François' surprise, Pierre Schoeffer got abruptly to his feet, came over to him, and stood there with his back turned for a moment, doing something. When he sat down again, the book had disappeared, hidden among the others. The volumes that had been lying about everywhere were now lined up in serried ranks. The little candle had been extinguished.

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The bishop was growing impatient. A mere manufacturing process could not be enough. The crown expected much more of Fust than merely to run a printing works. He had not been chosen for his skill at handling pots of ink but because, unlike his colleagues, he had first refusal on banned texts that might give Paris a head start over the other capitals. It was with the quality of the books published here on Rue Saint-Jacques that Louis XI intended to ensure the influence of France. Patronage of the arts was the surest sign of a monarch's prosperity, as well as the manifest expression of his power. That at least was what Chartier gave them to understand, taking care not to reveal the true purpose of this whole undertaking. He had not even said a word of it to François, who was surprised by this sudden infatuation of the king for the things of the mind.

The monarch's true motives were much more down to earth. It was a simple matter of finance. At this time, everything coming from Byzantium, Alexandria or the Levant had to pass through the valley of the Rhone. The Pope having sovereignty over Avignon and the Comtat, the papal legate reaped huge profits from imposing rights of passage and taxes on foodstuffs, which went to fill the coffers of Rome rather than those of Louis XI. The king wanted to force the Vatican to cede this source of revenue to him. It so happened that the works published by Fust greatly antagonized Rome, undermining the Church's hegemony over men's souls. The young monarch's plan was simple. After letting Fust flood the market with texts that corrupted believers, Louis XI would set himself up as defender of the faith and undertake to avert the danger. But, in order to stem this deadly tide of publications, it was essential that he gain control of Provence. Such blackmail could only work if the Holy See felt genuinely threatened by works of undeniable significance capable of shaking the foundations of the dogma. And it was up to Fust to supply the necessary ammunition. But all he had done so far was extol the virtues of his machines. No more than that.

Excerpted from The Brotherhood of Book Hunters by Raphael Jerusalmy. Copyright © 2014 by Raphael Jeruslamy. Excerpted by permission of Europa Editions. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.