Table of Contents
The Story So Far… by Walt Boyes
Best of 2016 Award by Walt Boyes
The Marshal Comes To Suhl by Mike Watson
Even Monsters Die by Eric S. Brown and A.G. Carpenter
A Little Help From His Friends by Nick Lorance
The Monster Under the Bed by Tim Roesch
NESS: Krystalnacht on the Schwarza Express by Bjorn Hasseler
Letters From Gronow, Episode 1 by David Carrico
About the Faces on the Cutting Room Floor Number Eight: Authenticity, Site Surveys, and Blind Serendipity by Charles E. Gannon
Hungary and Transylvania, Part 4: High Politics of Hungary at the Ring of Fire by Gábor Szántai
Notes From the Buffer Zone: Escapist Fiction by Kristine Kathryn Rusch
This Issue’s Cover – 70 by Garrette W. Vance
Grantville Gazette, Volume 70
Editor-in-Chief ~ Walt Boyes
Managing Editor ~ Bjorn Hasseler
Grantville Gazette, Volume 70
This is a work of fiction. All the characters and events portrayed in this magazine are fictional, and any resemblance to real people or incidents is purely coincidental.
Copyright © 2017 by Grantville Gazette
A 1632, Inc. Publication
Grantville Gazette
P. O. Box 7488
Moore, OK 73153-1488
Grantville Gazette, Volume 70, 1 March 2017
Table of Contents:
Read Me First:
The Story So Far …by Walt Boyes
Best of 2016 Award by Walt Boyes
Fiction:
The Marshal Comes to Suhl by Mike Watson
Even Monsters Die by Eric S. Brown and A. G. Carpenter
A Little Help From His Friends by Nick Lorance
The Monster Under the Bed by Tim Roesch
NESS: Krystallnacht on the Schwarza Express by Bjorn Hasseler
Continuing Serials:
Letters From Gronow, Episode 1 by David Carrico
Nonfiction:
About the Faces on the Cutting Room Floor, Number Eight: Authenticity, Site Surveys, and Blind Serendipity by Charles E. Gannon
Hungary and Transylvania, Part 4: High Politics of Hungary by Gábor Szántai
Columns:
Notes from The Buffer Zone: Escapist Fiction by Kristine Kathryn Rusch
This Issue's Cover—70 by Garrett W. Vance
The Story So Far… by Walt Boyes
Our story continues in Grantville Gazette 70. In 1631, or 2000, the town of Grantville and a ring around it were transported to an alternate universe and plunked down in the middle of Thuringia in Germany, during the height of the Thirty Years' War. Figuring out where and when they were, the inhabitants of Grantville needed to preserve themselves from what was the bloodiest war to date in human history. To do that, they geared down and reached out, taking in the immigrants that were coming to them displaced by the war and making them Americans.
As war-torn Germany sometimes resembles the Wild West, the State of Thuringia-Franconia set up a Marshals Service, based on what was remembered of the U.S. Marshals Service back in the Original Time Line. Mike Watson gives us "The Marshal Comes to Suhl."
Eric S. Brown and Anna G. Carpenter give us another chapter of the Monster Society, "Even Monsters Die," which brings the LARPers down to earth and back to reality.
In "A Little Help from His Friends," Nick Lorance provides another look at Sergeant Richard Hartmann—Sergeant Whatsisname. With his wife and newborn child dead in childbed, Hartmann takes refuge in soldiering and finds he has to fight off all the predatory females who want to displace Marta in his memory and his bed.
Tim Roesch gives us an only partly hysterical look at schizophrenia in "The Monster Under the Bed."
Bjorn Hasseler graces us this issue with another NESS (Neustatter's European Security Service) story, this time on a train. The story is "Kristallnacht on the Schwarza Express."
David Carrico gives us the beginning of a new serial, "Letters from Gronow, Episode 1."
Gábor Szántai finishes his series on Hungary and Transylvania with a look at key players in those areas.
Kristine Katherine Rusch talks about "Escapist Fiction" in her Notes from the Buffer Zone column, and Chuck Gannon concludes his outtakes from "Papal Stakes: Faces from the Cutting Room Floor." We have had a unique look at what it takes to edit a novel—what stays in and what goes out.
Finally, we are announcing a "Best of 2016" award. Check it out, and nominate and vote.
Best of 2016 Award by Walt Boyes
We have had some wonderful stories over the past 10+ years. So, we have decided to give an award for the best 1632 Universe fiction published in the Grantville Gazette in 2016. If this goes well, we'll do it again for 2017.
Here's how we'll do it. You read the stories (fiction only, please, for the award) and nominate the ones you think are especially award-worthy. You can nominate by posting to the Grantville Gazette Facebook page or by writing a comment after reading the story, or by emailing your nominations to Bjorn Hasseler at [email protected] or to Walt Boyes at [email protected].
Nominations are open from now until April 1st, 2017. After that, we'll collate the nominations and publish them on the Gazette Facebook page. We'll point you to a Survey Monkey ballot for the final vote.
We are looking forward to seeing what you think are the best stories we published in 2016.
****
The Marshal Comes To Suhl by Mike Watson
Early April, 1634
Suhl
Dusk came early that evening with a light, intermittent rain. Four, in the shadows, watched the old man walking down the alley. He used a cane and wore a wide-brimmed hat and a long coat of some heavy cloth that shed the rain like feathers off a waterfowl. He was softly singing to himself.
Compared to the watchers, he was richly dressed and easy prey for those in need. A short run, a shove, some blows, sift his pockets, and take his purse and that coat. A knife would be the finish. They were four to his one. It would be easy.
The old man stopped and appeared to listen. Had they given themselves away? He left the alley and stepped towards the entrance of a shop—a well-lit shop.
He was getting away! Run! Catch him!
****
The old man thought he heard someone behind him. His leg ached with every step. His destination, a cabinet shop, was just a few yards away, across the cobblestoned street and two doorways down, when he heard a splash. Someone had stepped into a puddle. He turned to look back behind him, back down the alley where he had walked a few moments before.
Four men were running towards him not more than fifteen yards away. Two of the men had knives in their hands; the others had bludgeons or some sort of metal-shod truncheon. Their intent was obvious. He completed the turn, dropping the cane and sweeping back the oilskin coat that uncovered the up-time pistol that had been holstered at his waist.
As the coat flipped away from his belt, he drew the pistol. When the sights leveled on the nearest attacker, he fired. The sound was loud and distinctly different from the boom of a down-time weapon. It echoed, the sound reflecting off the nearby buildings. He shifted his aim slightly and fired again …and again …and again.
The last attacker staggered, tripped, and fell only a few feet away. His knife skittered across the cobblestones as he slid to a stop at Archie Mitchell's feet. Archie remained in a slightly crouched stance, pistol sights sweeping from side to side searching for any further threats. There were none. He heard nothing other than the ringing in his ears from the reports of the pistol.
Archie stepped forward, ready for any movement, and checked t
he bodies. Young men, he thought, out for an evening's fun, mayhem and profit. Or …mercenaries, perhaps? They were not as young as he thought at first glance. They were well-muscled and well-fed. No, they were not ordinary cutpurses. He kicked the knives and bludgeons away from the bodies in case one was shamming.
He scanned the surrounding buildings. Some were dark, abandoned, not uncommon in this part of Suhl. No faces peered from windows; no lights appeared in darkened rooms, no sound of someone running to investigate the shots in the night. Curious. And where is the watch?
Archie looked at the bodies. They had sought a victim and had found something else. He replaced the half-empty magazine in his pistol with a fresh one and holstered the pistol. Next, he stooped to pick up his cane, the scattered fired brass, and then, grunting softly, he straightened and placed the spent brass in a pocket. With cane in hand, he continued towards his destination where Heinrich Buch was waiting. Someone there could fetch the watch. As he walked, he resumed singing softly, "St. James Infirmary," alert for others who might wish to interrupt his walk. He did not notice that his leg no longer ached.
Friedrich Achen watched silently from the shadows. Frustrated, he stepped back further into the darkness and slipped quietly away.
****
Early March, 1634
Grantville
Judge Riddle sat behind his office desk. Harley Thomas, Dieter Issler, and Max Huffman were present, seated in well-padded side chairs. Archie Mitchell, however, was late.
Harley, Max, and Archie had been discharged from the Army just three hours previously. An hour before, with their families watching, Judge Riddle had sworn Max, Harley and Archie in as new SoTF marshals and Dieter as a SoTF deputy marshal.
The day was bright with a light southern breeze that brought a warming hint of spring. The warmth was a welcome break to the cold of winter and had melted the season's last snow. Vina Thomas and Greta Issler had decided to hold the ceremony on the Thomases' front lawn followed by a small reception. They prepared a selection of light pastries accompanied by a punch made from apple cider and ice cream. Frank Jackson had provided some unknown punch ingredient of approximately 100 proof. The new officers had been sworn in using the Issler family Bible, an enormous book that appeared to be old enough to have been printed by Gutenberg.
The marshals and deputy were now in Judge Riddle's office. Everyone was present except Archie Mitchell. Judge Riddle was about to ask Harley if he knew where Archie was when he heard footsteps in the hallway---footsteps that included the tinkle of jingle-bob spurs. The door opened and Archie Mitchell stepped into the office.
"Good God Almighty!" the judge exclaimed. "What the hell is that?"
Archie walked into the room and said, "Sorry I'm late." He wore Tony Lama boots with spurs, dark brown canvas pants, and a white shirt with an accompanying black string tie. Over the shirt was a five-button leather vest; on his head was a light gray Stetson hat. Around his waist was a wide leather belt and holster on the right containing a Colt single-action .45 caliber revolver and a second pistol, in a cross-draw configuration, on his left-front side. The pistol belt contained a number of large, fat cartridges in leather loops. He carried an oilskin coat called a duster over one arm. The other hand held a cane.
Judge Riddle glanced at Max and Harley. Max's face was turning red and his shoulders were shaking. Harley was not as constrained and was openly laughing—loudly.
Archie stepped up to the desk. "Since you've made me a marshal, I thought I'd wear my marshal's uniform."
Max spoke up, "That's Archie's SASS costume. He was a member of the Single Action Shooting Society up-time. They dressed up like that."
Riddle looked at Archie, his face turning red in anger. "Be very glad I'm not in court. If I were, you'd be looking at five days for contempt." He was not sure if he was being mocked or not. He needed this character, so he decided to overlook this affront to his dignity.
Archie's look of surprise and hurt finally convinced Judge Riddle that Archie's intent was innocent. Well, maybe not innocent, but at least not contemptible.
"Sit down, Archie, and don't try my patience."
Archie sat.
After a moment to collect his thoughts, Judge Riddle said, "I have your badges here. I asked Morris Roth to design and make them. My initial thought was to make them from some silver dollars I had collected, but Morris convinced me that would only attract thieves. Morris got together with Ollie Reardon and made these. Ollie had some stainless steel and brass stock left over from some job. Morris designed these badges. I had in mind something like the Texas Ranger badge, a five-pointed star inside a circle. Morris had other ideas. He likes six-pointed stars." He gave a slight grin.
"Dieter, come here," said the judge. "This is your badge. As a deputy, your badge is entirely stainless steel. Morris stamped your name, today's date, and the serial number on the back. Your badge is number four." Dieter stepped up, and Judge Riddle pinned the badge on Dieter's shirt.
"Max, Harley, and you, Archie, stand up," he said again. "The marshal's badge, like Dieter's, is made of stainless steel. The difference is that the points are brass-plated leaving the center as polished stainless steel. You are all equals as Marshals so we decided to assign the serial numbers in alphabetical order. Max, you have serial number one. Archie, you're number two, and Harley is number three. Wear them in good health."
He pinned the badges to the three new marshals and motioned them to sit down. "After much discussion with the other judges, Mike and Rebecca, Ed, and Frank, we decided to initially assign each of you marshals to some specific tasks as we build the larger service. Max, Doc Nichols doesn't want you to do much fieldwork for awhile. Since you were a first sergeant in the US Army, we believe you would be ideal as the executive officer of the Marshal's service. Harley, we thought the best area for you would be the marshal in charge of training since you did most of the tactical training for the old Marion County Sheriff …among other duties yet to be assigned. You'll be in the field, too. Since you hurt your knee again you're on leave until Doc Adams clears you for full duty."
Judge Riddle paused for a moment, looking at Archie and shaking his head slightly. "Archie, we had thought that you would be the best for the marshal in charge of field operations. I'm having some second thoughts after seeing you in that outfit, but the decision has been made. Don't disappoint me."
"Uhhh, yes …I mean no, Judge, I won't." Perhaps, Archie thought, dressing up wasn't such a good idea.
"By the way, how's the leg?"
"Well, for the most part, it's healed. Doc Nichols is being cautious, I think, but he said it will get better if I continue with the PT." Archie had been wounded in the leg the previous spring, and the wound had gotten infected, laying him up for months. The infection had caused some permanent muscle damage to his thigh and hip, hence the cane. He no longer needed it but he had become attached to the cane. It was made of hickory with molded alloy ball on one end and a steel cap on the other. It could be handy at times, he had decided—a knobknocker his grandfather would have called it.
Nodding to Archie, Riddle agreed, "That's what Doc Nichols told me; you've been released for duty."
Judge Riddle continued, "Max, for the time being, I want you to set up an office down the hall. The first task is to build a table of organization and equipment. All of us will be involved in that. One of the first tasks will be recruitment."
Turning to Harley and Archie, he said, "Harley …don't go hurting that knee again! I know he deserved it but next time, get someone else to kick the SOB in the ass."
Judge Riddle paused and looked at Dieter. "You are the only deputy marshal available, at the moment, to take cases. Fortunately for us, everything's quiet at the moment."
Riddle looked at the quartet again before he continued. "Archie, I would like you and Dieter to go to Suhl and find a suitable place for a court. Suhl has been a thorn in our sides since last year so we think one of the first courts should be there—establishing a
presence of law and order so to speak."
"The district court system is still being designed, how many courts, how many judges, their area of responsibility, all that. The current plan is each court will have a presiding judge who's in charge and two or three associate judges to help and take cases. You'll need to keep that in mind when you look for a courthouse. We're planning to place a troop of Mounted Constabulary there as well but that's not your concern once they're in place. They'll use the old Swedish garrison barracks. It's been turned over to us. Check it out when you get there, hire some people to clean it up and make any needed repairs. See if there is a site nearby for the court."
"How many constables will be in the troop?"
"Here is a copy of the proposed table of organization. It's still subject to change. Officially, it will be the 1st Mounted Constabulary Troop when it's all said and done."
Archie read the document. A captain, a sergeant, and ten constables, plus a saddler, farrier, blacksmith, medic, radio operator, and file clerk.
"Some of the headquarters folks, like the blacksmith, farrier, and saddler may be local people hired to fill just those functions," Riddle continued. "I would like you to spend some time with my son, Martin. He will go over everything in detail to answer any questions you may have. Do you think you could leave Monday for Suhl? That will give you nearly a week to get ready for the trip. We'll hire a bailiff to take over the admin for the court in May."
"Yes, Sir," Archie replied. "Monday will be fine. Dieter?"
"That is fine with me, too."
"Well, that's it, everyone. Any questions? If not, then the meeting's over."
Grantville Gazette, Volume 70 Page 1
