by Eric Flint
He looked up to the gray heavens. "God, I'm not much of one for prayer, but if it is possible, charge my brother's sins to my account and receive him unto Yourself."
Benedikt knelt and placed a hand on the grave. "Sleep well, Ebert."
He rose and dusted himself off, then clutched his coat closed against the March chill and began walking north.
Letters From France
by Kerryn Offord
Jena , Winter 1631-32
Henri Beaubriand-Lévesque watched the strange vehicle drive past. It was one of the up-timer horseless carriages everyone called an "APC." It was simply enormous, and noisy. Henri concentrated on absorbing all the details of the machine so he could draw it later.
The vehicle had all but disappeared from view when he felt a small hand tugging vigorously on his hand. "Papa! Papa! Come, you must look at this."
Henri let himself be dragged along by his excited daughter. "What's so important, Jacquette?"
"There on the wall, the poster."
There was a poster fixed on a display board on the grocery shop's wall. He let Jacquette's hand go and approached it. It advertised seminars on "the Philosophy of the Essence of Lightning" that claimed to demonstrate and explain the up-timer's science of electricity. A person couldn't be in Jena for long without hearing about the people from the future and their advanced understanding of the sciences. Henri's curiosity was excited. Just what was this "Wondrous Lightning Generator"? And what was an "Amazing Lightning Crystal"? He reached out to guide his daughter. "Come, Jacquette, let's see if we can secure places at one of these seminars."
They entered the shop and approached the shopkeeper. "Mein Herr, I noticed the poster outside advertising seminars on the up-timer electricity. How does one find this Dr. Gribbleflotz?"
The shopkeeper reached for a folded pamphlet and passed it over to Henri. "This will tell you everything you need to know, sir."
"Thank you." Henri started to read the pamphlet.
"Papa, come, over here."
Jacquette was gesturing for him to come to a pile of packages. "What is it now, Jacquette?"
Jacquette held one of the packages up so her father could read the label.
"Gribbleflotz Sal Aer Fixus?" Henri held the package up and asked the shopkeeper, "Is this the same Gribbleflotz?"
"Yes, sir. His cooking powders are becoming very popular. Pfannnenschmidt's bakery, just on the corner, offers a selection of delightful cakes and biscuits made with them. You should try the cakes." The shopkeeper kissed his fingertips. "Delicious."
"Thank you, sir. Maybe I will." Henri folded the pamphlet and placed it in his pouch before taking Jacquette's hand and leaving the store.
Once outside, Jacquette tried to lead her father toward the bakery. "Papa, can we go to the bakery now?"
Henri looked down at his daughter. She had her "butter wouldn't melt in her mouth" look. It reminded him so much of his wife he knelt down and hugged her. "Of course, and we might even sample some of this new cake."
A few days later, after the seminar
Henri placed an arm around his wife. "That was very brave of you to volunteer to let Dr Gribbleflotz charge you up with his Wondrous Lightning Generator, Sarah."
Sarah Beaubriand-Lévesque smiled and leaned into his chest. "I didn't feel brave when Dr Gribbleflotz asked if I would stand on the platform."
"But you did it. What was it like having the electricity pass through you?"
Sarah passed a hand through her still messy hair. "I didn't feel a thing, but didn't I look a fright with all my hair sticking out like that?'
Henri shook his head. "You could never look a fright, love. Isn't that right, Jacquette?"
"You looked funny, Mommy."
"Thank you very much, young lady." Sarah sniffed in mock offense.
Jacquette giggled. "But you did look funny, Mommy. Can we have more cake?"
"Of course, we can. Henri, I've been thinking, there could be a good business opportunity introducing the cooking powders back home."
"Sarah, I'm a wool merchant. Why would I want to make cooking powders?"
Sarah smiled and batted her eyelashes at him. "Because I asked you to?"
Henri tried to frown. "That's not fair, Sarah. You know there is nothing I won't do for you." Sighing heavily, Henri gave Dr. Gribbleflotz' laboratory a final look. "I guess it won't hurt to ask what price Dr. Gribbleflotz puts on his formulas."
A couple of days later, outside Dr. Gribbleflotz' laboratory
"Well, that was an expensive meeting. I don't think it was fair of Phillip to leave the bargaining in the hands of his housekeeper."
Sarah made a sound remarkably similar to a snort.
"Well, it wasn't fair. You'd have struck a much better deal if you'd been bargaining with Phillip."
Sarah laughed. "Maybe Ursula and I should have left the two of you to bargain between yourselves, Henri. You certainly became friends very quickly."
"Ah, but that was a meeting of minds. Phillip enjoyed showing me his electricity experiments. He's even promised to help get me a lightning generator of my own so I can hold similar seminars back home." Henri sighed. "I'm sorry that we'll have to spend over a week in Grantville. I hope you'll find something to do while I study the methods at Phillip's Spirits of Hartshorn facility."
"Hopefully they'll have some good shops and maybe something for the children to do. But we head for home immediately afterwards, you hear me, Henri?"
"Of course, dear. The sooner we get home the sooner I can start producing Phillip's cooking powders, and the little blue pills."
Sarah raised her eyebrows. "And, of course, you can try your hand at making lightning crystals."
Henri flushed a little. "Yes, dear. And I can try my hand at making lightning crystals."
Grantville library, a fortnight later
Henri pushed his chair away from the table and stood up to stretch. It was time to finish for the day. He flexed his tired hands and looked down at the meager progress he'd made in copying the article on rubber from the encyclopedia. Sighing heavily, he started to collect his writing instruments and his notes and returned the volume to its place on the shelf. Rubbing his tight neck muscles, he made his way out of the library, waving to the library assistants as he passed them.
It was bitterly cold and there was snow on the footpath. Henri wrapped his coat tighter and, being careful where he put his feet, he made his way to the small hotel where his family was staying. At the rate he was copying articles they'd be in Grantville for at least another week. He shuddered, not from the cold, although freezing droplets had found their way down the back of his neck. No. He shuddered at just how much money Sarah could manage to spend during another week in Grantville. Not that he begrudged Sarah all of her purchases, not when he was wearing the results of one of her early forays. A pair of walking boots, with rubber soles. Custom made by Calagna and Bauer of Grantville, and using salvaged car tire rubber for the soles. Sarah had made friends with a number of the locals and been invited into their houses. There were lots of things she had decided she just had to have in the house back in France. Although what she needed with a sewing machine, Henri had no idea. Her maid Marie did all of the household sewing.
Henri finally stumbled into the family's suite. Sarah rushed into his arms and kissed him. That raised his suspicions immediately. She hadn't welcomed him home like this since they left Jena. Gently he pushed her away so he could look around the room. He was pretty sure he knew why Sarah was suddenly so affectionate, and then he saw it. The children had new toys. Pierre a set of blocks, and Jacquette . . . she had a couple of dolls. Henri swallowed. He had a horrible feeling about those dolls. "Sarah, are those dolls Jacquette is playing with 'Barbies'?"
Sarah bowed her head. "Yes."
Henri threw his wife a suspicious look. He knew she knew he had a soft spot for the way she looked at him through her eyelashes. "And Pierre? What did you buy him?"
"Just some building blocks."
<
br /> Henri glared. He'd just seen the plastic bucket the building bricks had come in. Those were up-time plastic building blocks. Between those and the Barbie dolls, Sarah must have spent a small fortune. Not that he begrudged the children having toys, but did she have to spend that much on them? "Sarah, I'm not made of money. What with buying those licenses from Phillip, and the cost of our stay in Grantville, we could find ourselves short of funds before I finish collecting the information I want from the library."
Sarah looked up, and smiled. It was an impossibly smug smile.
He'd seen that smile before. It usually meant she was extremely proud of herself for some reason. "What have you done now, Sarah?"
"I bought some books, Henri, from a most charming American woman." Sarah giggled. "She asked if I was English."
Several up-timers had mistaken Sarah for an Englishwoman because of the fluency of her English. They'd had to explain she was from Jersey, one of the English islands not far off the coast of France, and that she grew up speaking both French and English. "And?"
Sarah led Henri into their room. Lined up against a wall were a couple of boxes and two piles of books. Henri's jaw dropped. Even from the door, he was pretty sure what those books were and stepped over to them. "A set of the Encyclopedia Britannica?" He picked one of them up and looked at it. "The fifteenth edition? Just like the one at the library. How did you manage this?"
"Jacquette made a new friend. Roseanne Warren is a girl her own age, with a younger sister and a brother Pierre's age. Their mother invited us around so the children could play together. Of course I made your apologies, telling her that you were busy in the library making notes from the encyclopedia. She asked if you'd be interested in buying a set of your own." Sarah sighed. "It's very sad, Henri. her husband was left 'up-time,' leaving the family near destitute."
Henri placed the book back on the pile and turned to hold his wife. She was from a seafaring family and knew only too well how the loss of a father could leave a family destitute. "How much did you spend?"
"Twenty thousand dollars."
Henri barely managed not to roar. "Twenty thousand dollars! That's too much."
"That's what Tammy said, but she needed ten thousand just to stop the bank selling her house. So she threw in a couple of boxes of her husband's books and her children added some toys for Jacquette and Pierre." She looked imploringly up at Henri. "Say you're not angry, Henri. Please."
Henri sighed. His wife knew him too well. She knew there was little he wouldn't do for her. He pulled out a handkerchief and blotted her tear-filled eyes. "I'm not angry, Sarah. You've done me proud. With my own copy of the encyclopedia, we can think of heading home. It's a pity it's not an eleventh edition, but I understand there are only two copies of that in the city."
"When Tammy and I were having tea at Cora's I overheard that Schmuker and Schwentzel were selling subscriptions for a new encyclopedia they were planning to publish using a mixture of up-time and local knowledge."
Cora's was a coffee shop where rumors and gossip flourished. It had been a discussion at Cora's that had first sent him to the library in search of information. The topic of Dr. Gribbleflotz and his ten dollar aspirin had come up. The general consensus was that he was taking the people of Grantville for a ride, as aspirin was surely very easy to make. All you had to do was find the recipe in one of the library books. With thoughts of the small fortune he had paid Phillip for those licenses, he'd been very happy to discover there was a lot of difference between what the various books said and the detailed instructions Phillip had sold him. The books had very general terms. Phillip's instructions explained how to manufacture the various products in economic quantities. "Then, if you haven't already purchased a subscription we must do so immediately."
Sarah smiled. "They'll still be there tomorrow."
Henri thought he could drown in Sarah's eyes. Yes, she was right. Tomorrow would be soon enough. Right now, making sure the door was shut was more important.
Fall 1633, Granville , France
Henri finished reading the latest section the printers Schmuker and Schwentzel had sent of their new encyclopedia. He could only marvel. Within another couple of years, he would have his very own set of the most comprehensive encyclopedia ever printed. He settled back in his chair and looked out the window. As far as the eye could see there were green fields dotted with sheep. He let his eyes move closer to home, to rest on a young ram grazing in the next field. He'd been surprised that Madame Richards had been willing to sell a male merino lamb so early in her breeding program. Well, maybe not a purebred merino ram. Madame Richards had been emphatic that although the mother was an up-time merino, she couldn't be sure of the sire. This would be the ram's first full breeding season. Henri had high hopes that the ram would improve the quality of the wool his flock produced.
"Henri! Henri, have I got a cargo for you, my boy."
The booming voice jerked Henri's attention away from the young ram. He turned to see Sarah and her Uncle George standing in the doorway. Henri scrambled to his feet and rushed to greet him. "George, you rogue! How have you been? Sarah was just saying that we haven't seen you since before Phillippe was born."
"I've been busy, Henri. So many ships at sea, so little time. Anyway, I've persuaded my crew that you'll give us a good price for part of the latest cargo we've managed to score. Jean, bring it in.
"I think it's some of that 'rubber' you told me about. It's squishy. You are still interested in rubber, aren't you, Henri? You haven't suddenly discovered there was something new you wanted to investigate?" George actually looked worried at the thought.
Henri shook his head. "No, I'm still interested. Are you sure it's rubber?
"I came across a Portuguese ship." George had done well in the family business. Piracy, or as Sarah preferred to call it, privateering. "According to the logbook, its last stop was in Belem, at the mouth of the Amazon. Didn't you say that there are rubber trees there? And the manifest lists the stuff as caoutchouc. That's just another name for rubber you said."
"Let's have a look at it then."
George moved himself and Sarah out of the way as a stocky seaman walked in with a canvas wrapped bundle in his arms. It appeared to be heavy.
Henri knew better than to expect Jean to leave; he was probably the crew's representative. So Henri ignored him and unwrapped the bundle to reveal a large block of, well, rubber. He gave the amber colored block a brief examination. It certainly looked like what he expected raw rubber to look. He poked at it. It felt sort of spongy. Convinced that the block was in fact rubber, he turned to George. "What's your price?"
"I have two dozen of those blocks. Since you're family, I am willing to sell the lot of them to you at the totally reasonable price of two hundred forty livres."
Two hundred forty livres was probably an order of magnitude more than the crew had expected to get for the strange cargo. "Ten livres each! It certainly didn't cost you that much."
George shrugged. "How do you put value on a man's life, Henri? We deserve some reward for the risks we take." He turned to Jean. "Right, tell the men to start unloading the rubber. Henri is good for the money."
Jean smirked and left. Henri wasn't surprised by the smirk. He'd more or less just bought the rubber without trying to bargain the price down. But then, this was the first shipment of rubber Henri had heard of, and he could afford it. His bleached woolens were doing very well, and his soda factory was almost a license to mint money. The glassmakers were beating down his door to get his pure soda ash. Then there were the other products. The cooking powders hadn't sold as well as he'd hoped. That was why he'd switched to making soda ash in the first place. However, the demand was slowly increasing, and the aspirin had always sold well.
"Well then, George, if we've finished with business I'm sure Jacquette, Pierre and Phillippe will be happy to see you."
Winter, 1633-34
Henri smeared the soft rubber solution over the sheet of cloth, then picked i
t up by the top corners and placed it in the special chamber he'd built. He closed the chamber and checked that the fire was going and the steam was flowing into the chamber.
While the sheet of material impregnated with rubber vulcanized, Henri wandered over to his latest line of research. Back in Jena, Phillip had shown him up-timer books where balloons were used to contain gases. Henri thought he might have managed to make such a balloon. He had discovered the method after sticking a finger into rubber reconstituted by using turpentine and ether as solvents. It had formed a thin layer. Henri had tried to be patient about letting it coagulate, but in the end he had torn the thin rubber balloon when he took it off.
Rather than use his hand, the next time he used a piece of iron bar. By repeatedly dipping it into the mixture he'd achieved a coating of rubber that was strong enough to roll off the iron bar after it coagulated. That hadn't vulcanized very well. In his next attempt he left the balloon on the bar while he vulcanized it. That balloon had lasted long enough to be used in the exploding balloon experiment. Now he was trying to determine how much sulfur and other additives had to be used to make a good balloon.
Henri touched a finger to the latest balloon. It was ready to be vulcanized. Just a light dusting with powdered talc, and then it would be ready to put into the vulcanizing chamber. The iron bar really wasn't the best thing to use. It had just been the first thing to hand that he could use instead of his finger. He really should find time to talk to the local glass maker about making a glass form, something that would start the balloon in a spherical shape. Keeping it hollow would let him fill it with hot steam to speed the vulcanizing process. If that worked, he could think about making a bigger balloon. Maybe even something that could lift a man.
* * *
Henri had just removed his latest balloon from the vulcanization chamber when he heard familiar heavy footsteps. Sarah's uncle George had been a regular visitor lately. The man was fascinated by the balloons Henri was making. "Come on in, George."
