by Eric Flint
Magda put her black bag filled with papers down in a wooden chair at the table and sat down. It was only a few moments before an even younger woman in an apron and a yellow cotton dress made her way to the threesome. Magda ordered a tea and a piece of cake.
When the tea arrived, Magda raised it in a toast. “To the new doctors!”
Frieda looked from Magda to Henry. “Henry, please come over tonight for a celebration with a few folks.”
Henry stared into his mug of tea for a minute, searching for some way to gracefully beg off. Henry had never been invited to her home, and he did enjoy her company. He could think of no reason to refuse her invitation. “Ja. I would like that.”
He stayed for a few more minutes, long enough to be sure of Frieda’s address.
Bottle of Riesling in hand, Henry found himself in front of Frieda’s rooms shortly after dusk a few hours later. He knocked tentatively on the dark wooden door.
While Henry stood in the faint light from the street, he wondered if this was a bad idea. He and François went to social events together where François would shine. Henry never thought of himself as a glittering conversationalist and he was always afraid of giving the two of them away to prying eyes and wagging tongues.
Of course, François was gone…
In what seemed to be only a minute, Frieda was standing in the open door, pulling Henry in to the warm room.
No one else was there other than Frieda and Magda. “Am I early? Did I get the time wrong?”
The two women exchanged a smile. Frieda put her hand on his arm. “No, no. We are all here. Come; let’s open the lovely wine you brought. Is that my favorite Riesling?” The shorter blond woman swept the wine away into the kitchen where she pried off the cork and poured the clear liquid into three glasses.
She shared them out to Magda and Henry, who had moved to a table draped with a paisley cloth. They pulled out chairs and began to sit down when Frieda stood still and looked appraising lay at Henry.
“Henry, do you trust me?”
Magda swirled the light wine around in her glass as she exchanged a meaningful look with Frieda.
“What is the matter, Frieda? Have we not shared these last few years together in medical school? And why only us here? Did the others cancel?”
Frieda smiled and took a step towards the taller auburn-haired woman. “My question to you is can I trust you with my life and freedom?”
“Are you in trouble? Do you need help?” Henry’s pulse quickened.
“No, but I could be if I trust the wrong person.”
Henry glanced around the small but comfortable apartment. “Of course you can trust me but what…”
Frieda took that moment to place a distinctly non-sisterly kiss on Magda. Henry watched in silence.
The two women pulled apart slightly and looked at Henry.
“So?” Frieda grinned at him. “Did I guess wrongly?”
“What do you mean?”
“Are you shocked or scandalized? Have I trusted wrongly?”
“No, of course not.”
“I have been watching you since we met, Henry, and I figured you would understand. Magda is my very special friend. I wanted you to know her and know you are not alone.”
Henry’s thoughts flashed back to his François for a moment and the tears seeped out. He still missed François so much! He welcomed Frieda’s admission but he very much wished François was with him.
The two women exchanged looks and each reached out to lay a caring hand on Henry’s shoulders.
Frieda’s otherwise jovial features took on a worried look. “We did not mean to alarm or cause you pain. I just wanted to encourage you the way I’ve been encouraged by some of the up-timers and their writing.”
He wiped at his eyes with one blue cotton sleeve. “What do you mean? Encouraged? Who could you possibly tell without fear?”
“Let us sit down, share this good wine and talk.” Magda settled herself at the table. Frieda and Henry followed her lead.
“What do you mean about encouragement?” Henry asked as Frieda uncovered some hard cheese and bread on the table. “I will not share your secret. Your secret is mine, as you have deduced, but our loves are forbidden and illegal. How could you be so rash as to talk to others about it?” He looked around nervously as if expecting church or civil representatives to slide out from under a chair or crash through a window.
“According to some of the up-timers, in the future people like us will not be hunted and despised.” Magda took a sip of her wine.
“I overheard one of the up-timer women in the cafe talking about her relative who was like us. The up-timer seemed to genuinely miss her cousin, I think it was, and her cousin’s partner she called him. She and her friend did not seem to be in a hurry so I struck up a conversation with them and worked my way back to the subject. According to the up-timer woman, in her time, most people did not seem to care too much if one was like us. She has problems understanding why it is a problem for people of our time. She even said that she expects things to change, just like the up-timers have affected other issues in our world.”
“I pray you and she are correct.” Henry dearly wished that François could hear all this. “Here’s a toast to good friends, love, and the up-timers!” He lifted his glass and met the glasses of the two women. “Prosit!”
They talked through the Riesling and into a red wine from Burgundy. They talked about the up-timers, their new ideas and what they brought with them to medicine and engineering and other facets of life. They promised to write, often. Afterwards, Henry headed home with the new ideas and hopes for the future seeding his mind with ideas.
That night, Henry cried himself to sleep, again. He was glad for Frieda and Magda but François was still dead.
A few days later, Henry moved to Grantville to start his internship, as was the custom. He had practiced as a doctor’s assistant in Jena but now he would be able to practice on his own. He could not wait to see this epitome of new thought and the best medicine. Now he could truly begin his war against Death!
He rode the train from Jena to Grantville, luxuriating in the speed and comfort of the newly built transportation. It was now springtime so he watched the fresh countryside glide by. How unlike his first trip into Jena by cart! How exciting! He only wished he had someone to share it with. Once again, François rose to mind. Could Magda and Frieda be right? Could the up-timers actually change ideas and even laws so he too could love?
That was too much to hope for. He just hoped Frieda and Magda would not be stupid and let the wrong person know their secret. It could cost them both more than their careers; it could cost their lives. He shivered at the thought of how others like them had died.
No, Henry would concentrate on his first quest—stealing some of Death’s quarry from the bony one. His life was dedicated to healing. He pushed thoughts of the up-timers from his mind and watched the train pull into his destination, Grantville.
Grantville, Early Spring 1636
Henry got settled in a small set of rooms near the hospital in Grantville, which overlooked the street and a few stores. These rooms were slightly smaller than the ones he had in Jena but with only one flight of stairs to climb. Those in Jena had been on the third floor. Henry felt absolutely rich since he was getting paid a decent salary as an intern, even though things in Grantville were ridiculously expensive. But there was an inexpensive café called Cora’s in the street below where he could eat and watch the throngs of people from all over the world flow by. Jena had been big but Grantville was much more interesting. In such a short time, it had become the intellectual capital of Europe.
Henry would sit by the window and watch as the wide array of people of all ages and types moved past. It was his favorite entertainment after hours of making rounds with the Grantville doctors or visiting patients in their homes. He would order a bowl of the café’s delectable soup and wash it down with some juice or ale and watch people. The café smelled of soup and c
offee and spices.
Grantville offered a smorgasbord of people to watch. Up-timers and down-timers in up-timer-inspired clothing drifted by in the new denim material. The new entrepreneurs and captains of industry strode past on their way to building their fortunes. But Henry’s favorites were the people with their pets, usually dogs because they could be walked on leashes without fear of harm. Henry loved to watch the dogs and their humans. He loved dogs but his time in medical school had made it hard to have a pet. Before then, he and François had moved so often having a dog would have been difficult.
Grantville, Fall 1636
One evening in the late fall when evenings were turning cold, Henry was sitting in his favorite seat by the window when he noticed a small, furry creature huddled outside the door. It had no leash and seemed to be alone. It was a dog, but one that was so dirty and matted it could have been a castoff fur blanket waiting to get swept away by the street cleaners.
He watched the dog through the window. No one came to collect the poor soul and few paid it much attention beyond avoiding it. Henry’s heart hurt for the poor thing that would from time to time look up and around as if looking for someone. Then it would lay its head back on the cold street as if giving up the search.
Henry could not stand to watch without doing something.
“Cora, do you know who that dog belongs to?” Henry pointed to the heap of fur on the sidewalk in front of the window.
“Nope. Never seen it before,” Cora said. “You taking it home?”
Henry nodded, and paid his bill. He grabbed a leftover piece of bread from his plate and went outside to where the dog lay. He held the bread out to the dog as he spoke quietly. “Come here, little one, I won’t hurt you. Here’s some bread. I have more at home.”
At first, the small ragamuffin only looked at the bread as if it was another empty promise in a life already filled with too many. But before long the smell of the bread enticed the dog to Henry, who petted him as the dog wolfed it down. “Would you like to come home with me, little one? I’m alone too. We could keep each other company. I’ve been told I do not snore too badly so I shan’t keep you awake at night.” Henry laughed at his joke but realized the idea was already warming him against the chilly air.
Henry gathered the small canine bundle in his arms. “Our first job after more food and water will be a bath, I think. You are a smelly mess, you are! And what is your name? You do not look like you will be very big so you do not need a huge name but you must have one with dignity. I must think on this very important matter. Names should not be given lightly. Maybe after a night of food and rest your name will be more apparent.” Henry realized that he was babbling, but he didn’t care. He’d had no one to talk to in so long.
When Henry took the dog, young but a bit beyond puppyhood, home and bathed him he discovered the dog was off white with soft hair that when brushed made the ten-pound or so dog look twice as big. His big dark eyes were matched with a wet, pink nose.
“What a serious face you have, my young prince. That is your name, is it not, Prince? Surely you have the look and breeding of a prince so Prince it will be.”
Henry smiled and felt better than he had in a while. He had not realized how much he missed having someone to care for. Prince was not another human but Henry saw plenty of those as a doctor.
No, Prince was exactly what he needed to fill his heart and home.
Henry had to leave Prince at home when he went to the hospital but Prince went everywhere with Henry otherwise, including to visit patients in their homes. Prince was so well behaved he actually became part of the therapy for some patients, especially children and the aged. Prince would stand next to the patient, waiting to be noticed. Some would stroke his fine coat and others would ask if he could sit in their laps where they could cuddle him. Prince seemed to take it all in as his job and due, sitting quietly sporting a bright blue or purple satin collar.
Henry still thought about François from time to time but now there was less pain and more good memories. Prince was helping Henry heal just like he helped Henry’s patients.
While Henry was still in Grantville a round of the flu hit and he found himself working even longer hours to keep up. Instead of only caring for his own patients Henry was called upon to take the patient load of at least one other intern who had fallen ill.
Henry usually spent a great deal of time in the less expensive parts of Grantville. As an intern he was given the poorer or less affluent patients. He was fine with all the patients, seeing each healing as a victory in his personal struggle with that old enemy, Death.
But when the doctor, a down-timer named Rathkin, who was overseeing Henry’s internship, became ill, Henry inherited his patients as well. Among these were some in the emerging middle class, such as traders bringing all manner of items into and out of Grantville.
Henry took Prince with him to visit these new patients. Most were suffering with a strain of the flu. According to the up-timers, influenza should have been fairly easy to treat but the strain that was hitting Grantville this time was not so benign. Henry spent much of his time explaining how to keep a sufferer hydrated, warm, and well-fed, and dealing with cranky and out of sorts patients on their way back to health. This would be the perfect time to bring his sweet canine assistant.
The visits went as planned until Henry got to the last house of the day. It was a large home in the area favored by Grantville’s merchants and traders. Henry presented himself at the ornate carved door and was promptly admitted by a distinguished, fifty-something butler who could have taught lessons on the craft. “Signor Cantalupo is in his rooms. Please come with me, Herr Doktor.”
Without waiting for Henry’s reply the butler turned on his heels and proceeded up a large winding stairway. As he followed the butler, Henry noticed numerous apparently expensive paintings hung over the stairs and all along the otherwise richly appointed walls.
The butler stopped at a door on the second floor, waiting for Henry to catch up. Prince seemed to know they were close to a patient because he started moving around in his perch in Henry’s backpack. Prince rode there so Henry could keep his arms free when traveling around the city.
Henry followed the butler into a bedroom as finely decorated as the parts of the home he had already seen. Rich red bedding filled out a huge four-poster bed. In the bed was one of the most enchanting men he had ever seen. François had been a blond and gorgeous but this man was night to his day. He had long lustrous raven black hair spilling across his olive skin. When he opened his eyes, Henry almost had to take a step back from what the haunting gray revealed.
Henry had not had this kind of reaction to anyone since François. He knew he could not, would not let the patient know. He would be tightly controlled. To do otherwise could be dangerous.
Henry took a moment, pretending to look in his medicine case, then approached the patient’s bed. “Good greetings, sir. I am here because your doctor is sick. Nothing dangerous but I am his intern and will be seeing you for the time. I hope you will not mind.”
The man smiled up at him. “Of course I do not mind, but I hope Doktor Rathkin will be well soon. He is a good man. What is your name?” He spoke with a touch of an Italian accent.
The smile was blinding. Henry had to compose himself once again. “Thank you for bearing with me. I am Doktor Cooper, Henry Cooper.”
“As you probably know, I am Antonio Cantalupo. I welcome you and hope you can help me with this illness. I really must make a trip to Venice soon to pick up a shipment. How soon can I travel?”
“Herr Cantalupo, we cannot rush your healing too quickly. The influenza cannot be hurried. Many people start to feel better and overdo activities, and then they relapse, and sometimes die.”
“May I ask for as quickly as possible? Winter will soon be on us and then I will not be able to move goods for some months. Sooner is better.”
“I will do what I can and the rest will be up to your body to reach health quickly.�
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Prince decided it was time for him to be introduced because he started to move around more in the backpack, even giving a short, discreet bark or two.
“Your backpack seems to have developed a mind of its own, Doktor Cooper.” Cantalupo laughed, followed by a rough cough.
“Careful now, Herr Cantalupo. You will cough soon enough but sit back and rest. I’ll introduce you to my assistant.” With that, he pulled the backpack off and laid it on the bed, letting Prince nose his way out.
The butler, who was still standing near the bed, moved towards Prince as if to take him away. Before he could, Cantalupo waved him away. Prince walked across the red velvet to the patient’s open arms. Cantalupo stroked the soft off-white coat on Prince’s back and Prince gently licked his face.
“What a dignified, lovely dog! What is his name? Adler, you can leave us now.” The butler gave a stiff bow, left the room and closed the door behind him.
“He is Prince.”
“He definitely behaves like a Prince. Where did you get him? I would love one just like him.”
“First we treat you, then we may chat.” Henry was determined to maintain his calm, no matter how handsome the patient. He listened to Cantalupo’s heart, took his temperature and quickly ascertained that in fact he had a case of the flu. Cantalupo was fairly young and healthy.
“Have you had the influenza before?”
“In Italy, two years ago. It was terrible. I recovered but was coughing for a month.”
“You will survive this one, too, if you take care of yourself.”
The whole time Henry worked, the patient had petted Prince, cradling him like a baby.
“Now Doktor Cooper. Tell me about Prince here.”
This was Henry’s last patient for the day so he let himself relax a little. “I found him on the street in front of Cora’s. He had no home. I had no one at home so we fit each other well.” Why did he tell this patient so much?
