by Eric Flint
Grantville Gazette. Volume XX
( Ring of Fire )
Eric Flint
Eric Flint
Grantville Gazette. Volume XX
By Hook or By Crook
Victoria L'Ecuyer
Hamburg, January 1633
Someone grabbed Annabet Nutsch and covered her eyes. "Guess who!"
Annabet stiffened. She recognized the voice and jabbed her elbow into her brother's ribs. "Grow up, Johann." She wrestled free and shook her finger at the tall, gangly young man with light brown shaggy hair. "You should be in Jena doing your journeyman's work." She tucked her blonde hair back under the cap he knocked askew.
"And you should be a housewife with a child on leading strings." He grinned at her, green eyes filled with mischief. "Look at this and tell me what you think."
Annabet shoved her baby brother out of the way. "I'm working."
"Just take a look!".
Annabet snorted. "Fine. A quick look, then you have to leave. My mistress is not an understanding woman." She dumped an armload of clothes in a wash tub and shoved them in the soapy water. "Rinse the linens, Wilhelmina, while I deal with my brother," she told the young maid who was helping her. Annabet took Johann's arm and towed him to a corner where they could talk unheard. "What is it?"
"American lace." Johann grinned.
Annabet looked at the long, narrow band of lace. It was made of very fine yarn that was twisted and tangled in a regular fashion. It should have looked ugly, but it didn't. "This is nothing I have seen before." She stretched it flat to better see the stitches.
"It's from the future. I learned how to make this from an American woman in Grantville," Johann said. "She had this lace everywhere! It was on her tables and chairs and on the bottom of her curtains." He reached in and pulled out a ball of string and a fist full of hooks. They were all a different size and none bigger than a thin tree branch. "I whittled these for you. They are called crochet hooks." He reached into his bag again and pulled out a handful of papers with sketches and strange lettering. "Here are instructions. I cannot read the English, but I can tell what each step means. The lady I bought these from could barely speak German, let alone write it. I will need your help translating this."
"Johann, you know I don't read English!"
"But you do know what women call things." Johann grinned. "The lady taught me how to crochet. If I do what each picture shows, you can tell me how to write instructions." He sent her a pleading look when she remained silent. He rifled through his sketches and found one with a simple lace edging on the collar. "Look. She said you can make a collar like this in three days. Lace edging for sleeves would take maybe a day. Two, if you're slow. A collar as wide as your hand is long would take a week. Three at the very most. I can engrave the pictures easily. Now that I have a press, I can set the instructions and print the patterns myself."
Annabet scowled. She had heard her father carrying on about her brother's new press and his Committee and their dreams for revolution. She agreed with her father's skepticism. It sounded too good to be true. But this… She took the paper with the design. Johann was a good artist and his sketch was clear. The collar was simple, almost plain, but it was still lace. Annabet was torn. The American lace sounded like a get rich quick scheme, but this was lace. The wealthy matron who employed her as a maid of all work only had it on her very best clothes. "I will look at this. Tonight." Annabet stuffed the paper and all the rest back in his bag. "Don't assume I will fall in with your plans. Now go before Frau Koch sees you.".
Johann hesitated, possibly to argue and wheedle her into loafing, but Annabet knew she was pushing her good luck by letting him stay as long as she had. She shoved him out the door.
***
Annabet met her brother when he came home from the tavern that afternoon. She watched in satisfaction as their mother grabbed his ear and twisted it.
"Ow!" He fell to his knees when the pressure increased. "I'm sorry. Whatever it was I did, I'm sorry!"
"Not as sorry as you will be when Papa gets home," Annabet told him. "Frau Koch isn't going to renew my contract when it expires. And it expires real soon! She said it was because I had suspicious young men visiting me. When I told her you were my brother she didn't care. I shouldn't have been wasting my time and her money talking to you." Her fists curled. She wanted to twist his ear, too. And pinch and slap and kick and pummel him black and blue. She took a deep breath instead.
She needed the coin. She had spent all of her money on supplies to make things for her dower chest. As long as it was taking Gottfried to save up his mercenary's pay, she was certain that it would be her money that would allow them to get married. When he managed to return. His occasional notes with vague promises had stopped coming. She was worried he was spending all he had earned. "I keep hearing how your Committee of Correspondence encourages women to be as free as men. Not that I believed it.
"Unfortunately for me, it looks like I will be finding out sooner instead of later. I am your first committee member here in Hamburg whether I like it or not. You will print lace patterns before you print anything else. I will sell them for you and you will pay me the same as you would any other shop help."
***
That night, Annabet frowned as she watched her brother crochet. He was clumsy and slow. She doubted his claim of a lace collar in three days. Annabet turned to the pictures that gave instruction and scowled at them.
Sighing at herself as much as at him, she began to follow the pictures in the instructions, squinting, muttering to herself as she went. Johann offered advice and additional coaching, hindering as much as helping. After some time, a few shushings, and a kick to Johann's shin, Annabet mastered the basic stitches. Before too much longer, she was making a row of loops and picots on top of a simple filet crochet band that looked like a long, thin ladder.
"Hmphf." She finished her lace cuff and put it next to the hem of her sleeve. "It's like knitting, but not." Annabet started a second cuff. Now that she knew what she was doing, it went much faster. She could do a collar in three days, even if her brother couldn't. "Johann, you may not be an idiot after all."
He grinned. "Then you can help me write the instructions for the patterns? And make lots of lace to display? "
"Yes." She scowled. "But if my eyes cross because of it, I will beat you. You may be bigger, but I'm still older."
Johann laughed. "By the time I finish setting up my printing press, I will have two things to print! A broadsheet for the Committees and a lace pattern for women." He rolled up his project and went to his sister. "I'll be rich!"
Annabet frowned. "If you don't get a broken head first. Those who are in charge will not like this. The people who owe favors to them will like it even less. You know that the city leaders aren't at all sure about those crazy Americans. Plus, you've never run a printing press before!"
He waved her concerns aside and got paper from his pack. "Describe the first picture. How many chain stitches did it take to go around your arm?"
***
A week later, Annabet walked into her brother's shop on the outskirts of Hamburg. The bell over the door, missing its clapper, tonked when the door hit it. Johann yelped, brandishing a tool. She frowned at him before she set her basket down and straightened her lace collar. She removed her shawl, now trimmed with lace, and tucked it into the basket. "Why are you so jumpy? Who has been here?"
"Annabet. What are you doing here?"
She noticed his evasion, but let it slide in favor or more important things. "You need to have your landlord fix the bell and that broken window. This shop may be cheap because it's on the edge of town, but that's no rea
son for it to be shabby and in bad repair." Annabet looked around, spotted what she was looking for and crossed to the shelves. "I'm getting more patterns. All the women I know want one of each, even though they complain mightily about how hard it is to read them. I ran out." She reached in her pocket and pulled out a small purse. "Here's the money left over after I ordered more hooks. The patterns sell better if I have them.
"And do something about the printing. The ink is too blotchy; the lines are too close together." She squinted at the example in her hand. "Make the spaces between the words wider, too." She went back to the stacks of paper.
A bit desperate, Johann took the money and her elbow. "I'll bring some home tonight." He started to drag her to the door.
Annabet shook him off. "What did you do? These pages are all tumbled." She pulled more off the shelf. "These are crumpled." She slapped his hand when he grabbed her. "Johann, what happened? Who's been here?"
"Nothing." Johann couldn't meet her eyes. "It was an accident," he lied.
She put her fists on her hips and glared at him. "What kind of accident?"
"I stumbled and hit the shelf. It fell." He met her eyes, finally. "Go home, Annabet. I'll bring the patterns tonight."
She recognized that look. "You are lying." Annabet narrowed her eyes. "Did someone from the city council come here?"
Johann grabbed sheaves of patterns and put them in her basket. "If you want the patterns now, you'll have to sort them yourself." He shoved a second stack in her basket then grabbed her arm in a fierce grip and dragged her to the door. "Go. Home. Annabet."
***
The next morning, Annabet answered the door to her parents' house and found her best friend, Bertha, hand in hand with Karl, Bertha's fiance. "You're back! This is wonderful! Where's Gottfried? You went to war together. Did you get separated?" She went to hug him, then stopped. His face was solemn and Bertha was teary-eyed. "What's wrong?"
"May we come in?" Karl asked.
Annabet lost her smile. She stepped back and held the door open.
She showed them to chairs. Karl dragged his hat off his head, crumpling it in his big fists. He looked at Bertha in desperation, but she was crying.
Annabet hid her fists in the folds of her skirt and took a deep breath. "Gottfried's dead." She said it for him.
Karl nodded. Bertha dried her face and got up to put her arms around Annabet.
Annabet just stood there staring through the wall. "I had hoped he was whoring and too embarrassed to tell me he spent all his pay." She heard Karl clear his throat and focused on him.
"Gottfried was killed at…" He stopped when Annabet shook her head.
"It doesn't matter," she said. "He's dead. What good is he to me now?" Annabet was aware of Bertha and Karl communicating with grimaces and head jerks, but ignored them.
Karl eventually left. Bertha stayed long enough for Annabet's mother to return from the market. After a whispered conversation, Bertha left as well. Annabet let her mother guide her to a chair, but ignored her fussing in favor of staring out the window.
Annabet shrugged off her mother's urging to lie down. She did move, though, to a corner, where she stared at a half-finished cuff made of lace shells instead. It hurt to see what she couldn't have.
***
Johann clattered in that evening and crouched at her feet. He frowned at her expression. "Why the face? I brought you more patterns. One of them is new."
She started keening.
"Annabet?"
She curled into a ball. "Go away."
He swore. "Why are you crying? Did someone hurt you?" When she didn't answer, he shook her. "Who?"
"Gottfried." She blew her nose.
"Gottfried Groenenbach?"
Annabet stared at him, confused. "No, not the mayor's enforcer." She scrubbed her face. "My betrothed, Gottfried Mueller. He's dead. Now I'll never get married!"
"Dead? How?"
Annabet twisted her handkerchief. "How do soldiers usually die? In a battle. Somewhere." She ignored the tears rolling down her face. "Almost six months gone."
"Why so long to get the news?"
"Gottfried could barely read and didn't see the point in writing. He only did it because I made him." Annabet started sobbing again. "Karl didn't know how to put the news in a letter to Bertha, so he waited until he came back."
Johann put his arms around Annabet. He rested his forehead on her hair. "Is Bertha the one who used to pinch my cheeks?"
Annabet nodded and bawled. "She said she wanted a child just like you. I don't know why."
After a while, she pulled back and wiped her face with the sodden cloth. Johan dug out his handkerchief, and the light fell across his face.
Annabet grabbed his chin. "Why do you have a black eye?"
"I ran into someone," he said. "It doesn't matter. What did Mama and Papa say about the news?"
***
A few days later, the door to Johann's shop was locked.
"Are you certain he's here?" Bertha asked. She kept one eye on the half-shuttered windows in the nearby shops, and wrinkled her nose at a pile of garbage scenting the air with more than a hint of rot.
"Yes," Annabet replied. "He spends all of his time here or at the tavern talking about the Committees of Correspondence." She pounded on the door. "Johann! Open up!"
"I don't think he's here," Bertha said. "I don't think we should be here, either. This isn't a very good part of town."
Annabet huffed and knocked on the door again. "Johann!"
The door jerked open and stopped partway. Johann blocked the opening. "What?"
Annabet pushed on the door. "What were you doing?"
Johann pushed back. "Working," he said. "Go away."
Annabet pushed harder. "Open the door."
Johann glared. "No."
Her eyes narrowed. When Johann didn't back down, Annabet demanded, "What is wrong with you?"
"Nothing." He shoved his jaw out in the stubborn expression that Annabet recognized all too well.
"We'll see about that." Annabet threw her weight on the door. "Bertha, don't just stand there! Help me."
Bertha added her weight. Johann held them off for a moment but ended up slipping back a step or two.
Johann gave up. "Stop."
Annabet squinted with suspicion, but stopped. Johann shoved something aside and opened the door.
Annabet stepped over the threshold, then stopped. Bertha followed, trying to peer around her. The shop was covered with spilled ink and scattered papers.
Annabet picked up a ruined pattern. "What happened?"
Johann kicked at a pile of ink-splattered paper. "A group of men from the city council." He shrugged and surveyed his shop. "They ruined all my paper and spilled the ink then left me with a warning."
"Be glad they didn't do more," Bertha said. "They normally break heads."
Annabet paused her prodding of the nearest mess and looked up at him. "What kind of warning?"
"Get out of the Committee or suffer the consequences."
Annabet snorted and started to pick up papers. "What did you expect?"
"Not this. I expected other journeymen and apprentices to join me." He sighed. "I hoped they would help me spread democracy."
Annabet clucked. "Always the dreamer."
Johann kept silent and continued cleaning. The women followed suit, at least until it came time to mop up the ink.
"Do you have enough money to buy more supplies?" Annabet asked.
His gaze slid away then he forced it back. "No," Johann said. "That is what part of the mess is from. I fought to save what I had."
Bertha sniffed. "He's ruined."
Annabet sent her an angry look. "That's very helpful of you." She considered the blotches on the floor. "Tomorrow. Tomorrow, I will think more clearly. Today, we will clean this up."
Johann crossed his arms, trying to look as forbidding as their father. "No. You will stay out of this!"
Annabet just looked at him. "You ar
e not Papa to order me around. You are not my betrothed, either. You are just my baby brother, and you need help." A tear slid out of the corner of her eye. "I need something to work toward, something to hope for." She took a deep breath. "Please?"
Johann swore. "Fine." He uncrossed his arms and went back to work.
Bertha just patted him on the shoulder as she went to look for a mop. "You're a good boy. Stupid, but good."
***
Annabet met Johann when he came home the next night. He had no more bruises, but he did have a fresh scowl. He slammed the door behind him.
"What's wrong, now?" she asked.
He kicked a chair. "No one will give me paper or ink on credit. I have nothing to print on."
"You will." Annabet took the heavy purse she'd been carrying all day out of her apron pocket. "I want to go into business with you. I want to be a full partner and not just your clerk."
"What do you mean?"
"I sold all the linens from my dowry chest," she said. "One of the cooks where Bertha works is fumbled-fingered when it comes to fancy work. But she's thrifty and has plenty of coin instead. She's also in love, and her sweetheart just made master. He's ready to marry, and her dower chest was half empty. I emptied mine and filled hers for a good price. That, added to the money I earned working for Frau Koch. .." She grinned while he gawped. "I will buy the paper and ink and give you half for your Committees of Correspondence. You will use the rest to print patterns for me."
Johann stared at her. "Why?"
Annabet's mouth pinched. "I grieve less for Gottfried than I do for the house we would have had and the children. All the men my age are either betrothed or married. I don't want to wait for a young one to earn enough to take a wife. That leaves widowers with children." She shrugged. "It's not my first choice, but I'm tired of being considered a child when I'm not.
