"Of course I know how to do my job. Nobody in Andalusia has delivered more babies than me."
"Well, that only leaves part of the placenta not being delivered as an explanation for the bleeding." Annamarie was hopeful that her judicious lying would reduce Maria's belligerence.
"Nothing I did would get the body to push out the last piece of placenta." Maria folded her arms and glared. "And now I suppose you're going to tell me that you could have removed the last piece of placenta and saved Magdalida?"
Rather than just answer, Annamarie dug into her medical bag and bought out a curette. "I'd use one of these to scrape the remaining bits off the uterus."
Maria took the ten-inch-long nickel-plated-steel screwdriver-like implement with a half-inch wide open-loop head and turned it over and over in her hands. "This," she demanded, holding it up, "was all I would have needed to save Magdalida's life?"
Annamarie winced at the flash of obvious pain passing across Maria's face. "If you'll let me, I can teach you when and how to use it."
Maria handed the curette back. "What's it going to cost me?"
Annamarie studied Maria's expression. She still appeared belligerent, but there was a hint of a desire for knowledge. It was clear she expected there to be some price to pay, and there was no way Maria was going to believe Annamarie just wanted to spread knowledge. Her hand in the medical bag fell upon some of the Sanitation Commission pamphlets she always carried, and she pulled them out. "How well can you read?" Annamarie asked.
"Well enough," Maria said, as she tried to read the papers in Annamarie's hand.
"Then I want you to read these, and then talk to me about them. I need to train some assistants, and I'd welcome your assistance in designing a training program."
Annamarie watched Maria take the pamphlets and slowly, using a finger to track the words and her lips moving as she read the first page of 20 Useful Things to do with Carbolic Soap. That was a good sign. She'd been afraid that the Spanish of the mainly noble visitors to Grantville might be different to the everyday Spanish of the ordinary people.
****
In theory, Manuel Gomez was supposed to be instructing Jacob Sullivan on the local flora and fauna, but Manuel had been distracted by a particularly pretty piece of the local fauna by the name of Ines, and Jacob had been able to escape while Manuel devoted his attention to the young senorita. That meant he was at a loose end. He could always head for home, but Mom or Dad would just find some chore for him to do. So, he decided to explore the land around the hacienda on his own.
He was among olive trees, not too far from the main house, when he stumbled across something he hadn't expected to see in Spain. What the heck? It was a real up-time Barbie. Not one of the new wood, porcelain, or cellulose plastic copies. The hair was the clue. It had nylon hair, whereas the copies tended to used real human hair. What it was doing just lying around? Jacob didn't know, but it was something to relieve the boredom until Manuel came to find him.
A quick search of his pockets yielded a pocket knife-which might be useful-a large handkerchief, and the string he'd been looking for. However, rather than suspend the doll from a tree limb as a target, as he'd originally planed, he decided to try something else. Using the handkerchief and some of the string, in a few minutes he had a four point parachute attached to the doll.
Jacob moved from under the trees as he folded the parachute. With clear sky around him, he threw the doll into the air. On the way down, the parachute deployed, and the Barbie floated down to the ground. Jacob hurried over to the doll and folded the parachute for another flight.
A dozen flights later Jacob was starting to get bored with the game. He folded the parachute for one last flight and threw it into the air.
"What are you doing to Ana?" a young voice demanded.
Jacob barely had time to turn before he was attacked by a little terror. He managed to grab the young girl's hands and clamp them to her body, then held her securely while they both watched Ana slowly drift to the ground.
"What is that on Ana?" the girl asked.
Jacob looked down at the no longer struggling girl. "A parachute."
"Can I try it?"
"Only if there's no hitting."
The long considering look she sent his way told Jacob it was a struggle of one desire over the other, but eventually she nodded. "No hitting."
Jacob gratefully released his hold on the girl and together they walked over to where the doll had landed. He folded the parachute and demonstrated to the girl how to hold the doll and throw it.
Her first attempt wasn't very good. The girl dared him to say anything while she ran over and recovered the doll, then, to Jacob's surprise, she folded the parachute properly without asking for assistance. Her next throw wasn't much better than the first. The doll wasn't getting enough height for the parachute to deploy before it hit the ground. Her lips quivered a bit, and Jacob had the distinct impression that she was on the edge of bursting into tears-something he didn't want to have to deal with. He shoved his hands in his pockets, and discovered a possible solution. He pulled out the spare handkerchief his mother always insisted he carry and gestured to the girl to bring over the doll. "If we use this as a sling, then we should be able to send Ana much higher."
Jacob whipped his arm around, releasing one end of the handkerchief-sling at about the right time, to send Ana skyward. He allowed himself a smile of satisfaction as she soared into the air, until the parachute opened, stopping her assent, and then she floated to the ground.
The girl pounced on the doll, and after refolding the parachute removed her hair scarf to use as a sling. She sent Jacob a smug look before using both arms to swing the sling. The launch was successful, and the doll floated gently to the ground. The girl giggled and ran for her doll to try again. She got more than enough height, but her direction was bad. The doll floated into the branches of a tree.
Jacob didn't need her to turn and look hopefully at him to know what he had to do. He approached the tree and looked for handholds to climb it, but there was noting within reach. He took a few steps back and ran at the tree in an attempt to jump up to the first branch, but he couldn't quite reach.
"Allow me to be of assistance."
Jacob swung around. It was Don Antonio, his parent's patron.
"Grandpapa," the girl squealed before launching herself at the old man. "Ana's stuck in the tree," she said, tugging at his hand and pointing up into the tree.
"I can see that, and this young man needs a helping hand so he can rescue the intrepid aviatrix. Come on, boy; use my hands as a step up."
Jacob did as he was told, and was soon up on the limb and edging his way toward the parachute. With a little judicious shaking of branches, he was able to shake the parachute free and it floated to the ground. Then he looked down.
"If you hang from the limb, I should be able to lower you to the ground," Don Antonio said.
Jacob wasn't sure he should be this up-close and personal with his parent's boss, but he had offered, and it did look a long way down. He backed down until he was hanging, and two strong hands lifted him under the ribs. "Thank you, Don Antonio," Jacob said when he was safely on the ground.
Antonio waved Jacob's thanks away. "No, I should thank you for entertaining Isabel. Now, what is this thing attached to Ana?"
"It's a parachute. He made it," she said pointing at Jacob.
"He is Jacob Sullivan," Antonio said.
"One of the up-timers?" Isabel asked.
Antonio nodded. Then he turned to Jacob and rested a hand on Isabel's shoulder. "And this, as I'm sure you must have guessed, is my granddaughter, Isabel. Now, young lady, what have you done with your maid?"
Jacob had an idea where the maid might be, but he wasn't looking to get anybody into trouble, so he kept quiet. Isabel seemed similarly inclined. She looked around as if she was shocked her maid wasn't within view.
Antonio then turned his attention to Jacob. "Shouldn't you be with your tutor?"
/> "Yes, Don Antonio, but he got distracted by a boring piece of fauna, and I just wandered off." He saw a familiar face just entering the olive grove. "There's Manuel now." He hurried over to the approaching tutor. "I said I wandered off while you were distracted by some fauna," he whispered.
"Thanks," Manuel muttered before he approached Don Antonio. "I hope the boy hasn't been bothering you, Don Antonio. I came across Ines looking for Isabel while I was looking for Jacob, and we decided to look for our charges together."
"Jacob has been entertaining Isabel, and I'd like to talk to him. Why don't you and Ines take Isabel home?"
With only a little protest from Isabel, who was permitted to keep Ana and her parachute, the three of them set off for home. They were barely out of earshot when Don Antonio turned to Jacob. "A boring piece of fauna? How old did you say you were?"
"Twelve."
"Twelve? Maybe that explains it. Now, back to more important things. You made Ana's parachute out of a simple piece of linen?"
"A handkerchief," Jacob said, pulling out the spare he'd used to launch Ana. "And some string."
Antonio accepted the string and handkerchief. "And how do you turn this into a parachute?"
"You take four pieces of string of equal length, and tie one to each corner. Then, you attach the other ends to a weight." He saw Don Antonio start tying strings to corners, and hunted around for a suitable weight. He couldn't find anything, so, when Don Antonio was ready to attach a weight, he handed over his pocket knife.
Antonio hefted the knife and looked at Jacob. "Isn't this a bit valuable to risk?"
Jacob shook his head. "There's not much chance it'll break, and the weight will mean you can get some real height."
Antonio tied the makeshift parachute to the pocket knife. "Now what do I do?"
"You fold the parachute like this, and hold it against the weight," Jacob demonstrated before handing it back to Antonio. "Then you throw it into the air."
Antonio threw the pocket knife and parachute into the air, and smiled as the chute opened and the knife drifted down to the ground. He picked it up, and while he refolded the parachute he turned to Jacob. "If you made one big enough, could it support a man?"
Jacob nodded. "You should talk to Dad. He used to jump out of airplanes using a parachute when he was in the US Army."
"It seems I should indeed talk to your father. Where will I find him?"
"At the clinic," Jacob said.
"That's close enough to walk. Lead the way."
****
John Sullivan saw them coming-his son and their patron. "Oh, God, what's your son gone and done now?"
"My son?" Annamarie Rivera-Sullivan said, edging John aside so she could see out the window. "Since when has he been only my son?"
"Since he attracted the attention of Don Antonio."
Sebastian Ferrer, one of the Franciscan lay brothers they were training at the clinic, joined the Sullivan's looking out the window. "Don Antonio is not angry. If he was angry, he would be leading the boy along by the ear."
"I wonder how Don Antonio met my son?"
"So now that he's not in any trouble, he's your son again."
John grinned at his wife. "Well, of course he is. My son would never get into trouble, whereas your son . . ." He knew who he was dealing with, so he had no trouble avoiding the expected retaliatory kick.
"Mom, Dad, Don Antonio says he can get me in to see the duke's airship," Jacob called as he charged into the clinic.
Annamarie caught her son and hugged him. "That's very good of Don Antonio. I hope you haven't been bothering him."
"Your son hasn't been bothering me. In fact, we've been having a most interesting discussion. Senor Sullivan, Jacob tells me you know something of parachuting?"
John felt a twinge in his hip just thinking about parachuting. The look in Annamarie's eyes told him she too remembered the incident that got him medically discharged and the long years of rehabilitation that followed. "I used to be parachute qualified."
"So Jacob said. Would it be possible to parachute from an airship?"
"Sure. You can jump from anything high enough. Back up-time, some silly daredevils were jumping off high cliffs, bridges and buildings."
"Could you teach people to parachute?" Antonio asked.
"No way!" Annamarie insisted, "You promised!"
John laid a comforting hand on his wife's shoulder. "What Annamarie means is I can't really afford to risk parachuting again. I was very badly injured in my last jump. Very badly. If you want to learn parachuting, your best bet is the new jump school Tracy Kubiak's started up in Magdeburg."
"If we could make parachutes, I'm sure you could teach some people to use them without putting yourself at risk. Jacob made a simple parachute." Don Antonio held up the handkerchief parachute he and Jacob had been playing with. "It doesn't look too difficult."
John tried to ignore the flaming daggers from his wife's eyes. "That's just a toy."
"Of course it is," Antonio agreed. "Jacob has already indicated that there should be a hole in the middle to let air through, to stop the parachute swinging. But surely, with a few modifications, it can be scaled up?"
Don Antonio has a one track mind that puts Annamarie to shame. John tried to deflect him, before Annamarie's daggers became too real. "It'd be a lot easier to work with Tracy Kubiak. She used to be a rigger, and she's already making her own parachutes, as well as teaching parachuting."
"That will take time. I was hoping for something a little more timely," Antonio said.
John swallowed. Annamarie's heels were digging into his toes, and he knew she was sending him a warning. If he wasn't careful, he could find himself medically unfit to teach anybody anything. "Is this just a matter of getting people out of an airship quickly, or is there some special purpose?"
"It's just a thought." Antonio sighed. "My son was involved in His Excellency's airship project before his accident. However, since his accident he has fallen out of favor. I thought a demonstration of parachuting from the Richard Peeke might be sufficiently impressive to bring my son to His Excellency's notice again."
"Ah, impressive." John nodded. "I can maybe give you impressive, without involving parachutes. We used to call it fast-roping. You get a thick rope and grab it, and slide down it from somewhere high. You can get a platoon on the ground pretty quickly that way, and you don't get blown every which-way on the way down like you would with parachutes."
"And you did this from airplanes?" Antonio asked.
"Heck, no, none of us were that crazy. We did it from helicopters. They're a flying machine that can hover in place, rather like an airship; only they're a lot smaller."
"Would you be able to teach this technique?" Antonio asked, casting a questioning eye in the direction of Annamarie.
"Just as long as he keeps both feet planted firmly on the ground. It'd put too much stress on his hip."
"I won't," John promised. "You'll need some suitable rope, but more importantly, if you want something impressive, we'll need a good vertical drop."
"We have plenty of rope, and there is the Richard Peeke's hangar. That is eighty feet high. Will that be sufficient?" Don Antonio asked.
"Eighty feet will be perfect," John said.
"You bet it'll be perfect. I can't see John getting eighty feet in the air without the help of an elevator," Annamarie said.
A few days later
The hangar was a barn on steroids. It looked to be about two hundred feet long, with a central span that looked nearly as wide as it was high. John Sullivan looked up to the apex of the roof, where a platform had been suspended alongside a length of five-inch rope that reached to the ground. It'd been a long time since he'd last done a rope climb. He just hoped he hadn't forgotten how to do it.
Eventually, he arrived at the top, where he was quickly joined by five scaffold workers who'd volunteered, for a small consideration, to participate in the demonstration. From nearly eighty feet up he looked down, to see
and wave at the reason why he had made the climb. Jacob waved back. Annamarie would surely understand that a man couldn't ignore his son's expectations.
He pulled on a pair of the heavy leather gloves he'd insisted each man would need. "Right. Remember what we practiced. Grab the rope. Get a firm grip. Then swing free and let the rope slide through your gloves. Remember to tighten your grip to slow down before you hit the ground, and get clear as soon as you can, because the next guy down is right above you." He waited a moment, hoping that everyone understood. "First man, go!"
The first man went down fast. To be followed by the next person, and the next, until John was the last man. He grabbed the rope, and pushed off from the platform. It'd been a long time since he'd done this, and he relished the thrill of the rapid decent. With his feet free of the rope, he was easily able to land mainly on his good leg and walk away, although his landing was a little heavier than he would have liked.
On the ground, the six of them bowed politely toward the duke and his hangers-on. The scaffolders then hurried over to their friends while John joined his son, who was beaming with hero-worship, beside the de Aguilera's major-domo. He planted a hand gently on Jacob's shoulder. "Remember, what do we tell your mother?"
"That half a dozen scaffold workers did the demonstration and that it was real exciting seeing them sliding down the rope."
They shared a mutual smile. Father and son had grown closer since arriving in Spain. A lot of it had to do with the mutual agreement that what Annamarie didn't ask, she didn't have to be told.
"Can I see the Richard Peeke now?" Jacob asked.
Alfonso smiled. "Of course, follow me."
Jacob trotted alongside Alfonso. "How come it's called the Richard Peeke?"
"Richard Peeke was-actually, probably still is-a very courageous and gallant fighter," Alfonso said as they walked. "He was captured by His Excellency after the English attack on Cadiz a dozen years ago. The man made the reckless claim that, armed with just a quarterstaff, he could defeat any number of Spanish sword and buckler men fewer than six. His Excellency gave Senor Peeke the opportunity to prove his claim against three volunteers."
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