by Eric Flint
"McNulty. I'm Jenny. Jenny Geddes."
"I'm going to open the door. Jenny, please step forward and I'll close it behind you."
"Aye."
Still in darkness, he opened the door and allowed the person to walk in. "Step in and stop."
The dim light that came in from the alley gave him a silhouette, nothing more, but he thought she fit the description.
She whispered, "Are you Otto? You sound German."
"I'm Otto," he said and closed the door. "Wait and I'll uncover a candle."
He looked at her when he uncovered the candle. Her face was plain, he decided. Worn, tired. She had a large frame for a Scot, tall, sturdy. Her nose had been broken once or twice. She was dirty from her ordeal and her clothing was soiled and dank. When she smiled back at him, he could see that she was missing teeth. He had lost a few teeth over the years himself, so who was he to judge?
"I'm a bit of boggin, I am." She looked away. "Thank ye. I'm no' used to charity, an I don't know if I kin repay ye the kindness." She straightened, as if realizing what she said, and looked him in the face. "I'm no' a girl who would be repaying ye wit, well, ye knows." She looked down at her body and smoothed her dirty dress. "I don't do that, nere will. Ye ken that?"
"I understand, Jenny. I don't expect anything in return, at least not now. And when I do, it will not be that sort of thing. Do you want something to drink or eat?"
"Aye. Both please."
Otto handed her a mug of beer, turned and began to prepare her food. "What do you know of the Committees, Jenny?"
"No' a lot. Ye just do braw for people. Guilds nae like ye. Ye have something to with the strange people from Germany. S'posed to be from the future. That's all."
"The Americans."
"Aye, thems the ones." She paused and looked up at him. "What de ye hear 'bout me bairns? Are they safe? Do ye know? I ha' been worried to death. I dunno what I'd do if something happened—"
"They are safe with some people who are with the Committee. The soldiers came to your home looking for you, and the girls hid. We found them later in the afternoon when they went to the Dunnes. They are safe."
He watched as she bowed her head, and prayed a quiet thanks. She looked up at him. "The Dunnes be good people. When can I see them?"
"We need to get you safe first. Do you have any idea why they are trying to hurt you?"
"No. I have been thinking on that all night; I cannae come up with an answer. I don't know what I have done. Ye think they have me mixed with another Jenny of some sort?"
"We don't know. But we are trying to find out. We think the order may have come from London. The timing is right. You were wise to run away when you did. Damn that King Charles."
"I not like words like that if it's not in the kirk." She grinned mischievously. "But I did run, didn't I?" She smiled again. Otto liked the way her face lit up when it smiled, even with the missing teeth.
"Your food is ready. It's not warm, I don't want to risk a cooking fire and draw attention to us. This room has no windows, and we fixed it so there is no danger of someone seeing the light from the candle."
"I see." She bowed her head and offered a short prayer over the food, and then she wolfed the small meal down.
"We don't understand what is happening, Jenny. But something tells me that you're part of it. Or will be in the future. We'll have to find out which part you play. Or will play. You can stay upstairs here, and out of sight till tomorrow. Then we will move you to a safe house, and possibly out of the city in a few days when things settle down a little."
"And me bairns?"
"After we move you, we will get you together with your children."
She nodded and smiled. As he watched, he saw the energy drain out of her. The tension of not knowing about her children must have been a huge strain. And now that she knows they are safe, she probably wants to sleep. He picked up the candle.
"Take this, Jenny. There's a loft above this room; the ladder is over there. There is some clean bedding; we will get you some clean clothes tomorrow. And don't worry, I will be down here all night."
He watched her slowly climb the ladder to the loft. When the candle went out, he sat back down in his chair and listened for the rats to return outside.
* * *
"What do you mean, they failed to capture her?" John Lauder was not a happy man, and his high-pitched voice squeaked higher than usual. He coughed to bring it under control. "I wanted her head, dammit."
Lieutenant William Hignall shifted his weight from foot to foot. He was clearly uncomfortable. Lauder liked him to be uncomfortable. "Sir, the troop and I did exactly as ye requested. We thought we had her trapped in the churchyard during the market, but she escaped down a passageway we couldn't follow."
"Is she still in the city?"
"We don't know for sure." Lauder shot his best glare at the man, and watched him with satisfaction as he carefully considered the rest of his answer. "But . . . we believe she is. Her children have also disappeared. She is hiding somewhere—"
"You have a keen grasp of the obvious for one in your position, Lieutenant," snapped Lauder.
Hignall inhaled, exhaled, and tried to relax. "Sir, she is probably in one of the tenements somewhere in town. She has no family to speak of, although she is well thought of with the lower class of people in the city. She sits at church as a placeholder on the Sabbath for some of the more devout families. I am certain we will find her."
Lauder stood up. "That is what I am paying you and your men for, Lieutenant. To find her. If she is hiding, then let it be known that there is a reward." He crossed his arms and looked coldy at the Lieutenant. "This reward is an investment for me, Hignall. A substantial investment, in my future. Go now and do your duty as I have requested. In the kings name, of course."
Lauder watched as the Lieutenant retreated through the door of his study. He smiled. John Lauder knew something that not many men could say. He knew the future. He repeated it to himself. The phrase seemed so unnatural.
He knew what had happened to him in that other future, and he was going to improve it. In his old future, he had achieved one of the goals of his life. Peerage. Nobility.
He was a merchant. Wildly successful, and rich. Richer than most of the so-called nobility. He huffed at the irony. He was a commoner, who could buy and sell many of them.
In that other future, he achieved only the lowest ranks of nobility. He smiled coldly as he looked at the papers in front of him. The conclusion to be drawn from them was obvious, even if it was not written as such. During the war with Scotland, which now might not be fought, he had supported King Charles. That much was clear. He was rewarded with lands taken from those who opposed the king. Which increased his vast fortune even further. He was given the opportunity to buy a baronetcy, the lowest of the ranks of the noble class.
This time, it would be far more than a baronet of Nova Scotia. Far more. Lord Lauder had a very nice ring to it, he decided. And taking the head of Jenny Geddes was one step along that road.
The king would be pleased.
He rubbed his hands together, placed them on his skinny hips, and called to his servants for lunch.
* * *
Jenny was not a happy person, nor was her seven-year-old daughter who stood in front of her. The girl, Dolina, was on the verge of tears, and was holding her butt where it had just been swatted.
"I told ye you couldn't go outside. It's not safe for us here. I been worried sick about ye. Where ye been, girl? Tell me now."
Dolina's lip quivered. "Just playing, Mum."
"And where is your sis, Elspeth? She's supposed t'be watching ye."
"Elspeth's playing too, Mum."
"Where is she, then?"
"In the alley, Mum. Couple houses over."
"Sit down there, and stay. Do you understand me, lassie? So help me, I'll tan your hide if ye do this again."
"Yes, Mum." The lower lip continued to quiver.
Jenny went to the f
ront door, and opened it a crack. Otto had been explicit in his instructions. Do not go outside, not for anything. Stay away from the windows. She had fallen asleep for just a moment and Elspeth, who was ten and should have known better, slipped away. Jenny was going to tan her hide when she got her back. She peered out the slightly open door, and looked up and down the street. There was nobody in sight. The street was a small one, no more than a dead-end alleyway, with three-story town houses on either side of the narrow way. The homes were run down and gritty looking, and the street was filthy with garbage, both human and otherwise. The strong odor of it struck her nose. She crept out and quietly closed the door behind her.
Jenny knew that Otto would be back soon, and she wanted to get Elspeth back into the safe house before he returned. Otto had gone to the market to buy something so she could prepare the evening meal. She glanced up and down the deserted street again. Nobody seemed to be out, so she headed down the street toward the end. From there she could see a small gangway between two houses and could hear children's voices from behind the house. She walked quickly and quietly down the alleyway, and stopped before she rounded the corner behind the dwelling. The area was a typical hodge-podge of crumbling and propped-up buildings. Behind two of the buildings, there was a junk-strewn open area. Something was probably there years ago, but she guessed that it had burned down.
She listened at the end of the alleyway, until she could hear Elspeth's voice. She glanced behind her once again, and seeing nobody, she peered around the corner. She could see the girls playing on a trash pile, using sticks for dolls and burned wood for their doll cribs. There were three girls, along with Elspeth, all of then between ten and twelve years old, she figured. She could see no one else in the alley. She stepped out and called quietly to her daughter.
"Elspeth. Elspeth. Oy, girl. Come here."
Elspeth looked up and saw her mother. Jenny could see the emotions flowing across her face. She could tell that the first thought was momentary confusion. The second was the realization of where she was, third the realization that she was in trouble, and the fourth thought, Jenny saw, was her daughter looking for her little sister, who was nowhere in sight. Elspeth turned and looked at her mother with panic in her eyes. Jenny stepped further around the corner and waved to the girl to come to her.
She saw Elspeth glance at her new friends, then back at her mother. Elspeth said goodbye and hustled toward her. As she ran up, she began with the excuses. "Mum, I am sorry, I lost track of Dolina. She can't have gone far, Mum. She was right here a second ago, and when you was sleeping, I thought that it would be all right to go out and play. I heard the girls outside and—"
All of this came out in a rush of apology, fear, anxiety, and the terrible understanding that she had made a big mistake. She braced for a slap. Instead, Jenny shushed her. "It's all right, Elspeth. Be quiet. Now."
Jenny looked around the back alley to see if there was anyone there except for the other children. She saw nobody else. She sighed with relief. She knelt in front of her older daughter, and looked at her face. It was flushed with embarrassment. She whispered to her. "Lassie, did ye tell anyone your name?"
Elspeth looked at her mother with fear. "Umm. Sort of. I told them I was Elspeth, and that I usually live outside the walls, and that we were staying down the street. I didn't see the harm in it, Mum, they are just kids like me." As the girl finished the sentence, her eyes went beyond her mother and focused on someone else. Her eyes then flicked back to her mother, and she swallowed. Jenny tensed at her daughter's reaction. Someone was coming up behind her. She quickly stood up, turned around, and pushed her daughter behind her, facing whoever was coming down the alleyway.
They were two large men, who were dressed as if they were bricklayers, dirty and dusty from a day at work. She tried to control her fear, but her face must have given her away. She watched as they became suspicious, reacting to her fear. The two men looked at each other, and then turned back to her. The older one spoke.
"Who might you be?"
"We are just a visiting, down the street a bit." Jenny smiled at them, hoping to charm the burly bricklayers.
The younger man called to the other girls in the alleyway. "Alice, Mary. Get ye home, and be quick about it. Now!" The girls ran off, looking back at Elspeth as they went by. One of them waved. The younger man took a half-hearted and somewhat playful kick at the last one, and landed it on her rump. Jenny and Elspeth both smiled at him, and he smiled back. The younger one took a step forward, as if to introduce himself. The older man held him back.
"Just a moment, Andrew. I asked this lady a question, and she hasn't answered me yet."
Andrew looked confused, and turned to the older man. "Da, she is just a new lass from down the street. We're not the papist inquisition, fer heaven's sake." He turned to Jenny and smiled. "My name is Andrew, and this is me da, Bill. We live up there on the third floor, and my sister's kids and my daughter live below. Nice to meet you."
Jenny was still holding Elspeth behind her. She smiled and curtsied. "'Tis nice to meet you, Andrew. You too, Bill." She grabbed Elspeth's hand. "I am afraid it's time for us to be heading back home—"
"Not so fast. What did ye say your name was?"
Andrew once again looked at his father in surprise. "Da—"
"Quiet, boy. I am asking a question. Now what did ye say your name was, lass?"
"I don't believe that I have said it, kind sir. Now if you will excuse me, we need to be getting home . . ." Jenny grabbed her daughter by the hand and tried to work her way past the men in the narrow passage. The older man put his arm out against the wall and blocked her way.
"Da—"
"Quiet, boy!" he bellowed. Andrew backed away, and Jenny flinched at the power in his voice. "Your sister said there was two girls playing out here with the kiddies. And now here is the mum. Think, boy. What was every one talking about at the brickyard today?"
Andrew looked perplexed. "I dunno, Da. What was it?"
"If I said, 'reward money,' would that ring a bell?"
"Oy. D'ye think this is her?" Andrew asked.
Jenny couldn't help the stammer. She was never very good at lying. "Oh, I'm not that woman, the one they are after. Oh, no. That be someone else. My name is Mary. Yes. Mary, that's it. Mary Dunne. So we will be getting along now, kind sirs . . ."
Bill looked at Elspeth. He took a small step and loomed over her. "What be your name, now, lassie?" Jenny felt her daughter's hand tighten in hers.
"I . . . It is . . . Els- I mean, Mary. It be Mary, too, sir." Jenny squeezed her hand back.
Bill unexpectedly reached out with his calloused hand and clamped onto Jenny's wrist. She winced in pain. Andrew stepped back again, away from his father. "Da, do you think this is her?"
Bill looked at his son, and then back at Jenny. He held her arm up. "She not be crying out now, is she, boy? I would think if she wanted to be rescued, she would cry out now, don't ye?"
Andrew smiled. "Where are we supposed to take her for the reward? Lord, Da. The reward. We'll be rich!"
"Aye, boy." Bill turned around and started. Otto Artman was calmly standing in the narrow alleyway, arms folded, leaning against the wall.
Otto's voice was quiet and even, and with his German accent, it sounded all the more menacing. "This lady is under the protection of the Committee of Correspondence for Edinburgh. Nobody is going to turn anyone in for reward. Let her be." He smiled. "Please."
Jenny could see Bill and his son exchange a glance, measuring up the man in front of them. He was armed with a sword; they had no weapons. But together they were three times his size.
Bill smiled at Otto. "Four years of work is what it might take me, if I was lucky, to make that reward money. Neither you or your committee scare me." With no more than a flick of his wrist, he pushed Jenny aside and back down the alley. She heard Otto's blade come out of its scabbard.
She yelled. "No! Otto, don't hurt them." The two bricklayers stopped and glanced at her
in surprise. When they turned back to Otto, they were looking at his blade held level at their throats. He was faster than they ever thought possible. Jenny, too, blinked at the speed. She knew he was a soldier at one time, that was obvious, but she had no idea. . . .
Otto looked at them grimly. "It is not the policy of the Committee to cut men down like dogs in the street. Someday, maybe, but not now. Not today."
"Otto, they have children and live in this building," Jenny said.
Otto looked at her and smiled faintly. He stepped back very slightly and addressed the father and son. "If you were to collect any reward, you would not live to profit from it." He stepped forward, and pushed his blade closer to their necks, one at a time. "Do you understand what that means?"
