Grantville Gazette-Volume XIV

by Eric Flint

  She looked over to where Walt and Crystal were dancing under a tulip tree, laughing and enjoying the start of their new life together. Things were still cool between her and her son but a thaw was happening. Pam smiled, turning back to the bats as she sipped a glass of sweet white wine. She found it amusing that the much-maligned little beasties had played such a positive role in this wedding, helping reunite a family. "God's creatures," indeed.

  A voice interrupted her reverie. It was Mary Ellen Jones, the wife of the Methodist pastor and a pastor herself. She was currently manning the pulpit while her husband Simon was down in Italy.

  "Pam? Hi, do you remember me?" The woman approached her politely.

  "Sure, hi, Mary Ellen. How are you?"

  "Oh, I'm fine! Congratulations, I'm so happy your son has found such a nice girl." They looked over to where Crystal was now dipping Walt in an increasingly erratic dance that was beginning to show some unsubtle sexual overtones.

  Pam laughed aloud as she saw Mary Ellen's face pale ever so slightly. "I am, too. She's a firecracker all right, I'm proud of them both."

  "Indeed! Well, anyway, I have something I've been meaning to ask you . . ."

  Pam kept her smile firmly in place; it was well known that she had allowed her Methodist affiliation to lapse and had not been seen in the church in a good many years, but Mary Ellen was most likely here to make a last grab for her soul before she sank into agnosticism permanently or, worse yet, became a Baptist. Pam braced herself for the invite to Methodist Lady's Tea.

  "Sure, shoot!" Pam answered a bit playfully. She was in as high a mood as she'd been in years.

  "Great! Well, I've been talking to Reverend Green and he says that the Baptist Church had the same problem as we do . . ." A subtle influence was intoned on the competition. Pam felt her very good mood go flapping away into the gathering gloom. Mary Ellen continued on; "Well, he said you were a real cracker jack on the subject and would know just what to do. It seems we now have bats in our belfry . . ."

  * * *

  A Matter of Unehrlichkeit

  Written by Kim Mackey

  The breeze along the Rhine was beginning to freshen again when Philipp Hainhofer glanced once more towards the gates of Cologne. Where are you Georg? It's been over an hour!

  His youngest daughter, Sophie, noticed his look. "He's probably in a beer tavern somewhere with Magnus," Sophie said, nodding her blonde head towards the walls of Cologne. "You really should have sent me with him, Father."

  "Too bad you didn't mention that at the time, Sophie," Augusta, his next eldest daughter, said. "Advice comes too late when a thing is done."

  Sophie's blue eyes narrowed. "Is that a challenge, my dear sister?" Sophie thought for a moment. "Good advice never comes too late."

  Philipp Hainhofer sighed. As a way to get his sons and daughters to read and learn other languages, he had often practiced what he called "the proverb game" with them. His eldest daughters, Barbara and Judith, had enjoyed it so much that he had continued the game with his younger children as well. But with them, especially with Sophie and Augusta, it had turned more into a competitive struggle than a learning game. Sophie had the better memory, but Augusta had inherited both her mother's (god rest her soul) ability to get by with little sleep and her father's knack for languages. While Sophie could often respond in Latin, English or French, Augusta could often reply in Spanish, Dutch, Italian and Hebrew as well.

  "Now daughters, please . . ."

  Augusta smiled sweetly. "This won't take long, Papa, I promise." She looked at Sophie. "Non dare consigli a chi non li chiede. Would you like a translation, dear?"

  Sophie shook her head. "Italian, of course."

  Augusta nodded. "You've been studying. Good."

  Sophie glared. "I'm not a complete ignoramus. Nor are you . . ."

  A powerful gust of wind came from the north and all three of the Hainhofers grabbed their hats or caps to keep them from blowing away. Sophie's eyes widened and her hand flew to her mouth to stifle a scream as the crane transporting the last, large crate from their ship swayed dangerously.

  All three watched anxiously. Please, thought Philipp, not the writing desk too! The first crate, which contained the small curiosity cabinet for Rentmeister Cronenburg, had crashed hard on the dock and Philipp knew that he would have to have repairs done to it before delivery. But the writing desk for Hardenrat would be much harder to repair if it broke, given its unique construction.

  For several seconds the Hardenrat desk continued to sway in its net, and then the stevedores got it under control.

  "That was fortunate," Augusta said. "And look, here comes Georg. That is the fastest I've seen him move in years." Like Augusta, Georg Hainhofer had inherited Philipp's tendency towards plumpness.

  A trickle of apprehension ran down Philipp's spine. Why was Georg running?

  Georg Hainhofer stopped in front of his father, gasping for breath.

  "What's wrong, Georg?" Philipp asked. "Where is Magnus?"

  Georg shook his head. "I . . . couldn't . . . find . . . him." He took a deep breath. "So I went to the city council house. He's been arrested! At the request of his own father!"

  * * *

  The next morning it took almost an hour for Philipp and Augusta Hainhofer to walk from the Inn of the Golden Grape in the parish of Saint Kunibert to the intersection of Schildergasse and High Street. To Augusta, Cologne seemed much like Augsburg except for the black slate roofs and more level streets. Like Augsburg, artisans and shoppers filled the streets and women washed clothes near bridges across the streams. But unlike Augsburg, the Catholic cathedral and churches dominated the skylines.

  "How many parishes are there again father? Twenty?"

  "Nineteen. But Cologne is also a destination for pilgrims. There are over three hundred religious institutions if you count all of the convents, stifts, hospitals, cloisters and abbeys in addition to the typical parish churches."

  "But no Lutheran?"

  Hainhofer grimaced. "No. Or at least, none that are publicly acknowledged. There are 'secret' congregations of Lutherans and Calvinists in Cave Lane, however. But that will probably change now that Cologne has negotiated an agreement with Gustav Adolph and his allies. According to Hardenrat, the next election in June should see the Pragmatists take control of the city council." Philipp stopped and pointed across the street. "Here we are. Noah's Ark."

  Augusta's eyes widened. The store known as Noah's Ark took up two entire floors of the building on the southeast corner of Schildergasse and High.

  "It's huge!"

  Her father laughed. "Indeed. Herr Fetzer started it originally as a supply house for apothecaries and physicians, but branched out early in the century to indulge his own interest in curiosities. He was able to take advantage of Cologne's location and trade connections to provide items for all the naturalists and curiosity seekers in Germany, including my own cabinets. I've purchased many an extravagance from him."

  As they entered the shop Augusta shook her head in amazement. She had been involved with her father's affairs for almost five years, including assisting him with the Kunstschrank that had been presented to Gustavus Adolphus in Magdeburg in December 1632. Gustavus Adolphus had been delighted to receive the curiosity cabinet and had given her father a substantial bonus. But never had she seen such a wide variety of strange and unusual artifacts as she saw in Noah's Ark. The lower shelves in the shop were filled with shells, porcelain, and aromatic woods. Overhead dried and stuffed fish and mammals hung from the rafters while birds of every color and description lined the top shelf.

  "This is truly splendid, Father!"

  Philipp smiled. "It's as nothing compared to the Kunstskammer in Munich. Perhaps someday I can show it to you. It is truly a magnificent chamber of arts." He frowned. "If Maximilian of Bavaria can ever be convinced to deal with me again. He's not feeling particularly friendly towards those who seek the favor of Gustavus Adolphus."

  Augusta pointed to a shelf off t
o her left. "And what is that? And why does it seem familiar?"

  Philipp chuckled as he and Augusta approached the object. The stuffed animal seemed wildly improbable. There were seven cat-like heads on long scaled necks connected to a scaled body with large claws underneath. "A hydra. You've probably seen one in the broadsheet I have of Durer's 'Whore of Babylon.'"

  "Philipp! Is that really you? Have you come to drop off a copy of the Hainhofer Report in person? I always look forward to your insights into European politics." A older, white-haired man with sharp blue eyes and a large smile approached them from the darker recesses of the shop.

  Philipp clasped the man's arm. "Unfortunately not, Paul. We are just stopping over in Cologne to deliver some cabinets and desks on our way to Essen. I've been offered a position with Louis de Geer. This is my daughter, Augusta."

  Paul smiled as Augusta curtsied. "A pleasure to meet you, Augusta."

  "And for me as well, Herr Fetzer. Your shop is wonderful."

  Paul beamed. "It is, isn't it? So is this just a social visit then? Or have you brought me some more of those interesting artifacts you sent me from Grantville?"

  Philipp shook his head and then peered into the face of Paul Fetzer intently. "We were also delivering my son, Georg, to serve his time as a journeyman clockmaker with Magnus, now that Magnus has had his own masterpiece approved, according to his letters. The question is, Paul, why have you had your son arrested?"

  Paul scowled and then motioned them to follow him into the back of the shop. They passed several young men and Paul stopped to motion one towards the front of the store. "Take care of the shop, Caspar, while I talk with Herr Hainhofer and his daughter. Don't disturb me unless it is an emergency."

  At the back of the shop, Paul motioned them into a small office, and then toward several chairs placed across from a small desk. He sighed as the Hainhofers seated themselves.

  "I'm sorry you had to come now, Philipp. But Magnus has gone insane. My wife and I had no choice but to put him in prison. He absolutely refused to change his mind." He scowled again. "And the girl was no better."

  "What are you talking about, Paul?" Philipp asked.

  "You know that while journeymen are prohibited from marriage, masters are required to marry?"

  Philipp nodded.

  "Well Magnus's inspection master, Johann Felwinger, has several eligible daughters and Johann and I had arranged to have Magnus marry his eldest daughter, Elisabeth. It wasn't a perfect match, but Johann has no sons and wanted to provide for his daughter while at the same time easing Magnus's entry into the business side of Cologne clockmaking. Johann's health hasn't been good, so this would ease several concerns and provide Magnus with a ready clientele."

  "He decided to marry someone else, didn't he?" Augusta interrupted.

  "Exactly," Herr Fetzer said. "But that wasn't the worst of it. It was who he decided to marry that has caused all the trouble."

  "Who?" Philipp asked.

  Paul grimaced in distaste. "Barbara Leichnam, the skinner's daughter. As you can imagine, the clockmaker's guild is in an uproar and are threatening to expel Magnus from the guild. They have petitioned the city council to block the marriage. Johann is scandalized and on the warpath and as for his daughter . . . well . . . she never wants to see or be near Magnus again. My own business was beginning to suffer, so Maria and I thought it best to have Magnus put in prison for disregarding the wishes of his parents. He is still underage at twenty-four."

  Augusta nodded. The skinner trade was among the most dishonorable in Germany, even worse than executioners. No father in an honorable trade would want to see his son or daughter married into a family of skinners. No wonder Herr Fetzer was upset.

  "How long has he been in prison?" Augusta asked.

  "Three weeks. He's a stubborn boy. He refuses to reconsider. So tomorrow we try a different tactic. After considerable discussion with the Leichnams, it was decided to imprison the girl instead." Subconsciously Paul wiped his hands on his shirt. Clearly he was uncomfortable even talking with members of a trade like the skinners.

  "Will that work?" Augusta asked.

  Paul shrugged. "Who knows? Right now both are refusing to listen to reason, despite all the threats and cajoling that has been done. Insania filia amoris."

  * * *

  "Love is blind," Philipp muttered as they walked back towards the Inn of the Golden Grape.

  Augusta smiled. "Azah camabet ahava," she said in Hebrew.

  Philipp shook his head. "Hopefully not. If love is as strong as death in this case, Georg will have to find another master to work for. And Magnus, despite his talent, will never work for the clockmaker's guild in Cologne, or any other city in southern Germany. The journeymen's associations will see to that."

  "Then we'll just have to talk him out of it," Augusta said.

  * * *

  Peter von Hardenrat walked around his new writing desk again. Perfect. It was perfect for an Amtmeister of the Eisenmarket Gaffel, the political guild dominated by the iron merchants. Made of ebony, dark leather and cast iron, the desk stretched most of the width of his office. It had taken two days for Philipp Hainhofer and the two cabinet makers he had brought with him from Augsburg to put it together. But now . . .

  "So where are the artifacts from Grantville you mentioned? You can be so mysterious, Philipp!"

  Philipp smiled at the cabinet maker next to him, Ulrich Baumgartner. "Show him, Ulrich." With a flourish Ulrich reached under the desk on the left side and manipulated a lever. Several wooden doors on the drawers at the front of the desk clicked open. Philipp motioned for Hardenrat to inspect them. The first drawer contained a clear rectangular container with five coins.

  "Is this the plastic we heard so much about?"

  Philipp nodded. "The coins are part of what is called a 'proof set.' These are the first five state quarters minted in the uptime year of 1999, roughly a year before the Ring of Fire. It's difficult to believe, but these were minted in the millions. The detail is really quite exquisite. And to see that more clearly . . ." Hainhofer reached into the second drawer, narrower than the first, "A viewing device with lenses."

  Von Hardenrat took the red and black cylinder and then rotated the black portion. Two lenses labeled "5" and "10" rotated into view. Peter took the coins and lenses to the window for better viewing.

  "My God, you are right, the detail really is amazing! Have you looked at this horse on the Delaware quarter?"

  Philipp laughed. "A number of times. But what really convinced me to purchase this for your desk, despite the cost, was the motto on the Georgia coin. Very appropriate for a political leader in Germany right now, don't you think?"

  Peter peered more closely at the Georgia coin. "Wisdom, Justice, Moderation." He smiled. "Quite appropriate."

  For the next hour Ulrich and Philipp demonstrated the intricacies of Hardenrat's new writing desk. When they began to leave, Peter drew Philipp back into his office. Philipp motioned for Ulrich to continue and then shut the office door.

  "Yes, Peter?"

  "I have some news about the Magnus Fetzer problem," Peter said. "The city council will allow the marriage to go forward, assuming the parents give their permission. But if the marriage does go forward, then they will also support the clockmaker's guild threat to expel him." Peter shook his head in exasperation. "No honorable guild will employ him here in Cologne. So if he decides to stay, he will have to work as a day laborer."

  Philipp sighed. Then what would his son do? He supposed he could send Georg back to Augsburg. But Georg and Magnus had been friends for years and had worked well together.

  Peter held up his hand. "There is another possibility, however, if Magnus would be willing to relocate."

  Philipp cocked his head. "Relocate?"

  Peter nodded. "Have you heard of Jost Buergi?"

  "Of course. But isn't he dead?"

  Peter laughed. "Not yet, although he must be close to or over eighty years old. Apparently he was returning
to Cassel from Vienna in late 1631, intending to live out the rest of his days close to home and kin. And guess where he happened to stop over for a visit on the way."

  "Grantville?"

  "Exactly. He helped restore the clock on the middle school to working order. That job and all the new knowledge he discovered there seemed to invigorate him. He and an up-timer named Phil Reardon are helping set up the Essen Instrument Company for Louis de Geer."

  Jost Buergi was as famous as Tycho Brahe and Johannes Kepler. All three had been invited to Vienna by Emperor Rudolf II. Because of Jost's mechanical ingenuity and mathematical abilities, the Landgrave of Hesse-Kassel had even declared him to be "a second Archimedes."