Grantville Gazette 36 gg-36

by Paula Goodlett

  "If you don't force the pace and hurt yourself again, maybe six or seven weeks."

  Juan winced. "Another six or seven weeks?"

  "Maybe eight," Sebastian said.

  Mid-May 1635

  Annamarie Sullivan leaned on the starboard gunwale of the De Fortuijree and stared at the city in the distance. She'd always wanted to visit Cadiz, and there the city was, just across the bay from where their ship was anchored.

  "Is that where we're going?" Jacob asked, tugging on her jacket and pointing across the ship.

  Annamarie turned her back on Cadiz and looked across the ship toward Puerto Real. "Yes, that's Puerto Real. The de Aguilera's live somewhere past the city."

  Jacob kicked out at one of the strategically placed sand-filled fire-buckets on the deck. "Dad said we were going to be traveling through pirate-infested waters."

  "Dad was right. The English Channel is pirate infested.

  "But we didn't even see another ship."

  She reached out and laid a hand on his shoulder. "Poor thing, nothing exciting ever happens to you, does it?"

  Jacob shook off the hand, and glared at her. She grinned at his offended look and offered him the crook of her arm. "Come on. It looks like your father might have all our stuff on the lighter."

  "Are you going to use the ladder again, Mom?" The hint of a grin started to displace the scowl on Jacob's face.

  Annamarie looked across the deck to the other passengers preparing to disembark using a bosun's chair. "They do look ready to be outraged again, don't they?"

  Jacob produced a full-blown smile as he nodded.

  "Well then, who are we to disappoint them? I'll follow you and your father down the ladder, just like I did when we stopped over at Amsterdam."

  ****

  Alfonso, the de Aguilera major-domo, stood on the dock watching people disembark from the De Fortuijree, a Dutch armed-merchant of eighty lasts. He was looking for the Americans Alfredo de Aguilera had recruited. He almost missed the female, until he saw her ignore the bosun's chair and climb down the ladder to the lighter below. She looked Spanish, which was why he hadn't thought her to be one of the Americans. However, no Spanish lady would ever climb down a ladder, especially not with sailors waiting below.

  Once he'd identified the woman, the rest of the Sullivan family were easy to find. The husband was darker-skinned than his wife, suggesting a life spent working in the sun. Alfonso shuddered at so little care taken of one's complexion. Why, people might mistake him for a peasant. He lowered his telescope and snapped his fingers hopefully.

  When nothing happened he looked over his shoulder, and released a sigh. The quality of help was deplorable. "Get up, you lazy clots. The up-timers will soon be here."

  Alfonso knew his people, so he didn't rely on just words to get the two peasants moving. He managed to give each of them a solid kick in the rump before they could avoid him. "Hurry up; I want the horses here before they reach the dock." While Sancho and Pedro hurried off Alfonso prepared to greet his employer's newest employees.

  "Allow me," he said as he offered the senora a helping hand off the lighter. A surprisingly strong hand gripped his hand and the woman jumped onto the dock.

  "Thank you," Annamarie said. "I'm Doctor Sullivan. You wouldn't happen to be here to meet us, would you?"

  "Your husband is also Doctor Sullivan?" Alfonso asked, hoping that maybe the up-timers allowed the wives of doctors to use the honorific.

  "No, just me."

  Alfonso hoped he was able to conceal his horror. A female doctor? How was this blasphemy possible? More importantly, how would the local Franciscan order, which was waiting hopefully for someone to teach them the up-time medicine, going to cope with being instructed by a female?

  ****

  While Jacob got to know the spirited pony he was allocated, John and Annamarie examined the two horses provided for them. One was a stallion, the other a mare. "I think you should take the stallion," John suggested.

  "You thinking about your hip?"

  It was nearly seventeen years since he'd been invalided out of the US Army after breaking his hip in a parachuting accident, He'd mostly recovered, but . . . "Nah. It's doing the thinking for me. The mare looks nice and quiet."

  John helped Annamarie up onto the nearly sixteen-hand stallion before mounting the smaller mare. He was adjusting his stirrup leathers when there was a clatter of hooves and squeals from Jacob's pony. He looked across to see the animal rearing. A glance at the ironmongery in the pony's mouth suggested the source of the problem. Obviously Jacob had forgotten that he wasn't on his old pony, using his normal mouthpiece, and he'd done something to upset the animal. Then Annamarie's stallion decided anything the pony could do, he could do better. Annamarie was caught with her feet out of her stirrups-probably because they had been too long and she was shortening them. But she had her legs clamped tightly around the animal's chest and a hand gripping the saddle just under the pommel, while she used her free hand to bring the animal under control. The whole family had just about been born in the saddle, so he had absolute confidence in both Jacob's and Annamarie's ability to control their mounts, but he didn't want his mount joining in on the fun.

  "I hope you aren't planning on joining in," he said to the mare's head.

  The mare's ears twitched at his voice and she turned her head as if to glare at him. He could swear she was expressing disgust at the very idea. When Jacob and Annamarie had their mounts back on the ground and under control, he shortened his reins and gripped a little tighter with his calves. That didn't excite the mare to move, so he told her to move out. That didn't excite any action either, and John was thinking he might have to actually kick her to get her moving when the others started to move. John's mare decided she wanted to stick with her herd and followed them. John shrugged philosophically. Maybe the mare was going to be a bit too gentle a ride.

  Outside the city, he edged up alongside Alfonso to find out more about the clinic they were supposed to be running.

  "There might be problems with the Franciscans," Alfonso said.

  "Why?" John asked. They'd been assured back in Grantville that there would be no problem with the Franciscans. In fact, they'd been told by Alfredo de Aguilera that the Franciscans were very open to new knowledge.

  "I don't know how they'll take being taught the new medicine by a female."

  John smiled. So that was the problem. "Don't worry. I'll be in charge of training, while Annamarie deals with treating patients."

  "But your good wife said that you weren't a doctor," Alfonso said, obviously confused.

  "I'm not, but I spent nearly twelve years as an Army Special Forces Medic. I've got a lot of experience training people."

  "Why are they building a cathedral in the middle of nowhere?" Annamarie interrupted, pointing to a large structure in the distance.

  "That is not a cathedral, Dr. Sullivan," Alfonso said. "That is His Excellency's new airship hangar."

  "Airship hangar?" John stood in his stirrups to get a marginally better view. In the distance, he could see an enormous structure surrounded by scaffolding. In his travels, he'd seen the airship hangars at Moffett Field and the Zeppelin hangar in Rio de Janeiro, and, well, this one looked like it was going to be that kind of big. He settled back in his saddle and turned to Alfonso. "Someone's making an airship that big?" he asked, gesturing at the structure under construction.

  "His Excellency, Don Juan Manuel Perez de Guzman y Silva, believes that airships could provide a means of moving the treasures of the new world home to Spain without risk of piracy."

  "Hence the size." John nodded. If one stopped to think about it, that was reasonable. Certainly, there was no way any normal pirate could intercept an airship. "We were told that Don Juan de Aguilera was injured when his airship crashed into trees." He pointed toward the hangar. "Does that mean we're close to our destination?"

  "Just over the next hill, Senor Sullivan."

  ****

  Joh
n knew enough to take "over the next hill" with a large pinch of salt, so he wasn't surprised that it was another twenty minutes before they topped a hill overlooking the sprawling white-washed walls and terracotta roof complex that was the de Aguilera hacienda.

  They were led through an olive grove to the stables, where they dismounted. Then, while their mounts were led away, they and their baggage followed Alfonso to their temporary quarters.

  "If you would like to tidy up, I will inform Dona Juana that you have arrived." He paused to look pointedly at their clothes. "She will wish to see you immediately.

  John waited until Alfonso had left before turning to his family. "I guess that means we better wash up and put on our Sunday best before we're called in to meet our boss."

  "Do I have to?" Jacob asked.

  "Yes, you do," Annamarie said. "Find where the servants have put your good clothes and then wash and change."

  ****

  Dona Juana dusted her hands nervously over her gown. It was of the latest fashion, being black, but not an ordinary black. It was a true black. The fine silk overdress was dyed with the wondrous dyes being made in Grantville. Who would have thought that Alfredo, usually so feckless Alfredo, would think of sending back dyes from Grantville?

  She heard footsteps in the hall and hurried over to the settee she'd had placed so the light from the window was behind her, and fell onto the seats she'd had placed for the up-timers on who so much depended. She wanted to be able to see their every expression clearly during the interview.

  Juana noticed the female first. Senora Sullivan was-or at least she looked-Spanish. She was wearing a tailored white blouse with beautiful embroidery, and a full length skirt in a black at least as good as her own dress. The males were dressed in black trousers and white shirts. She studied the boy, and silently complimented the woman on her ability to turn her son out looking so clean and tidy. Juana knew how hard that could be. "I wish to talk to your parents now. Follow Alfonso. He will take you to the kitchen, where, no doubt, the cook will have something for you to eat," she told Jacob.

  The bright smile that elicited from Jacob told Juana that up-timer children were not that much different. Certainly, at his age, her sons had always been concerned with their stomachs.

  "Doctor Sullivan," Dona Juana de Silva addressed John. "My eldest son . . ."

  "I'm sorry, Dona Juana , but you are mistaken," John hastily interrupted. "I'm a nurse, my wife here-Annamarie-is the doctor."

  Juana turned her eyes onto the Senora Sullivan. "You are truly a doctor?"

  "I'm one of the new Doctors of Osteopathy, Dona Juana. I was a nurse up-time, and I trained as a doctor at Grantville and Jena after the Ring of Fire."

  Juana smiled. It couldn't be better. A male doctor wouldn't understand her problem. "That is close enough," Juana said. "My eldest son . . ."

  "I understand he was involved in a serious accident," Annamarie interrupted.

  Juana waved her hand in dismissal. "A few broken bones and some bruising. Nothing of consequence. No, Juan's accident isn't what I wish to talk to you about."

  "Broken bones and bruising can have long term consequences," John said, massaging his hip.

  Dona Juana glared John into silence. "Juan has had the attentions of the best of medicants. Certainly we have paid enough to restore four chapels for his care. No, this is much more important. My Juan is a widower. A widower with young children, and he refuses to think of remarrying."

  "How long has he been a widower?" Annamarie asked.

  Juana smiled. Yes, the woman understood the problem. A quick glance took in the confusion on the face of the doctor's husband. Clearly, as a mere male, he had no idea. "Over three years. His Magdalida died giving little Eduardo life." She patted her suddenly teary eyes with a scrap of heavily embroidered linen. "The poor boy and his older sister need the influence of a mother, but Juan refuses to even think of remarrying." She blew her nose into the handkerchief. "Magdalida died in his arms, you see. She bled to death. There was nothing either the midwife or doctor could do.

  "Since Magdalida's death, my son has refused to consider marrying and putting another woman at risk of dying like that again." Juana stared at Annamarie. "I want you to persuade him that your modern medicine will prevent it happening again, and it is safe for him to remarry."

  ****

  John stamped around the room in frustration. "How the heck do we reassure a guy that a woman won't die in childbirth? And what happens if we can't convince him it's safe to remarry?"

  "Stop fretting, John." Annamarie laid a hand on his shoulder. "What're the most likely reasons for fatal postpartum hemorrhaging?"

  "The doctor fouled up, or failure to pass all of the placenta."

  Annamarie nodded. "And given that the birth was supervised by an experienced midwife, I'd discount physician induced trauma being the problem. Which leaves us with . . ."

  "Part of the placenta being left behind," John finished the sentence.

  "Very good, John, and do we know how to deal with that?"

  John nodded. "Sure, a D amp;C. But how do we convince a down-timer that curettage to remove the bit left behind would have saved his wife?"

  "We don't," Annamarie said. "There is no way a hidalgo is going to listen to an unsolicited explanation of how we could have saved his wife's life."

  "So what are you suggesting we do?"

  "We're just going to have to demonstrate how all-powerful modern medicine is."

  John snorted. He knew Annamarie believed in the all-powerful nature of modern medicine about as much as he did-which wasn't much at all.

  "More realistically," Annamarie said, "you're just going to have to do such a good job teaching whoever the Franciscans send for training that people start talking about how good the new medicine is."

  "And what will you be doing?" John asked.

  "I'll concentrate on the midwives. If nothing else, the knowledge ought to stop another woman bleeding to death in childbirth."

  A week later

  Don Juan sat upon his quietest mare on a hill above the scene of his accident and looked down upon the duke of Medina Sidonia's airfield. The Richard Peeke-the duke's new semi-rigid airship-was being guided out of its hangar on the rail system he had pioneered with the Pepino. Once the airship was clear of the hangar, it was released to fly under its own power.

  The Richard Peeke was more than three times the size of the Pepino and had something like ten times the power in its two up-time engines. Under the control of its pilot, no doubt that ham-fisted fool, Don Fernando Lopez de Perez, the Richard Peeke took to the air and gracefully flew over Puerto Real before returning to the waiting mass of men in the middle of the airfield.

  "Don Fernando has developed into a fine pilot," Alfonso observed.

  "He could hardly have developed into a worse one," Juan snapped.

  They stared at the airship in silence until it was moved back into its hangar. Then Juan sent Alfonso a wry smile. "I've been left behind. They don't need me any longer, and there is no longer a place for me in His Grace's plans." He stuck his clenched fist against his thigh in frustration. "I spent more than the estate could really afford developing the Pepino, and now I have nothing to show for it."

  "You still have the Pepino."

  Juan snorted. "His Grace's agent has thanked me for letting them have the Pepino as a training vehicle. You think I can now ask for it back?"

  Alfonso winced and shook his head.

  "That's what I thought." Juan kneed his mare into motion and pulled her head around toward home. He nearly cantered home, but the pain in his body quickly had him slowing down to a gentle trot. That was the ultimate humiliation. Not only was he reduced to riding a mare, he couldn't even travel above a trot. He wondered if the American doctor had anything to reduce the pain.

  ****

  "I can't see any problems," Annamarie reassured the young woman she'd been called in to examine. She sent what she hoped was a reassuring smile toward the mid
wife who'd insisted on being present.

  "I told you so," the middle-aged midwife said.

  "Yes, Maria," the patient said. "But the Senora is a doctor, an up-time doctor, and it is good to hear what she has to say."

  Maria glared at Annamarie and stormed out.

  "I'm sorry about Maria. She takes my husband insisting on you examining me personally," Ursula Lorenzo said.

  "She probably thinks you no longer have confidence in her abilities. I'll talk to her, and see if I can get her to understand that I'm not trying to take over your care."

  "Thank you," Ursula said.

  ****

  The huffy midwife, obviously building up a head of steam, intercepted Annamarie on the front steps as she left the house. "You aren't wanted here. I can look after Senora Lorenzo myself."

  "Senora, I'm here to help you, not take over your patient," Annamarie said.

  "You already have the senor insisting that the up-time doctor examine his wife. How is that supposed to help me?"

  "He's just a husband thinking a university degree is worth more than experience," Annamarie said. "In a straightforward case like Senora Lorenzo's, I'm not needed. However, if something goes wrong, such as in a case like that of Senora Amellera, I have knowledge that could help."

  Maria snorted. "Not even that puffed up Englishman with his medical degree from Padua could save Senora Amellera. What makes you, a graduate of the jumped-up University of Jena, think you could have done better?"

  "Was part of the placenta missing?"

  The midwife made a sign to ward off the devil. "How did you know that?"

  Annamarie pulled the cross she wore on a chain around her neck out from under her blouse and showed it to Maria to reassure her that she wasn't an agent of the devil. "It's a process of elimination. According to her mother-in-law, Senora Amellera died of blood loss after giving birth. Either the problem was part of the placenta not being delivered, or you don't know how to do your job. And nothing I've seen or heard suggests you don't know how to do your job."