Grantville Gazette 36 gg-36

by Paula Goodlett

  "One is left to assume he won?" John said.

  "He killed one and incapacitated the other two. And all he had was the shaft of a halberd. His Excellency rewarded him for his fighting prowess and granted him his freedom. You will find that the quarterstaff is a respected weapon in His Excellency's domain."

  "After Peeke won one against three in a fight to the death, I'm not surprised," John said.

  June 1635

  Dona Juana de Silva paced back and forth in the sitting room where Don Antonio was trying to do his accounts. "They were supposed to reconcile Juan to marriage, and what have they done?" She paused to dare her husband to comment.

  Antonio paused with his pen held above the paper. "I understand the up-timers are doing their best."

  "Well, their best isn't good enough. Anna Maria has warned me that others are interested in Catalina."

  Antonio calmly entered some figures and blotted the ink. "Well, of course there are others interested in the girl. She's a Mendoza, after all. However, surely being a close confidant of His Excellency would make Juan a much more attractive prospect?"

  Juana planted her hands on her hips and glared at the insensitive clod she was married to. She knew Catalina was a Mendoza. That was why getting her for Juan would be such an accomplishment. "His relationship with His Excellency is only relevant if he is interested in remarrying. But what is happening? He is back playing with his flying machines, and not thinking about more important things."

  Meanwhile . . .

  Annamarie had been holding a regular clinic session in the village, but the last patient had come and gone, and it was now time to head home for the siesta. Her nose twitched at the mixed smells of wood-smoke and cooking food, and her stomach rumbled its discontent while she waited for Jacob to bring around the horses.

  The villagers were stopping what they were doing and looking into the sky, so Annamarie stepped out from her shaded corner and looked up to see what had caught their attention. It was the Pepino. The small airship, or blimp, as Jacob insisted on calling it, was slowly approaching the village and would soon fly over it. While she stared at it, Annamarie realized that something didn't look right. Surely the nose shouldn't be flat like that? She burrowed in her satchel for a small pair of binoculars and quickly focused them onto airship.

  "What's wrong with the Pepino?"

  Annamarie lowered the binoculars to see Jacob had joined her with the horses and pack animal. "What makes you think anything is wrong?"

  "The nose is the wrong shape. It should be rounded."

  Which could only mean one thing. "I think they are losing gas."

  "Is it going to crash?"

  Annamarie smiled. Boys, always looking for the worst to happen. "No, they should be able to land fairly easily. Look, they're getting ready to drop the handling lines."

  "That means they're going to land." Jacob nodded knowledgably. "Can we stay and watch?"

  "From a safe distance." Annamarie held out the binoculars.

  Jacob grabbed them and ran off, leaving Annamarie to deal with the horses. She tied them up near the water trough and slowly followed. She could see the preparations for landing. The handling lines were dangling. Men were grabbing them, and taking control of the airship. Then the wind caught it.

  The airship was shunted along, toward the village, dragging men behind. Then the gondola hit a house. The solid adobe structure ripped apart the lightly-built gondola. Annamarie could see fluid falling from the airship. She started running. "Jacob, stay right where you are!"

  For the first time in recent memory, Jacob did as he was told. Annamarie reached him just as a fire engulfed the airship.

  "But hydrogen shouldn't burn like that," Jacob said.

  "The impact must have ruptured the fuel tank," she said, looking at the burning gas bag. "Gold beater's skin shouldn't burn like that."

  "It's not gold beater's skin, Mom. Manuel says the original gas bag was, but they tore it badly putting the Pepino into its hangar one time, and it would have been too expensive to repair it, so they made the replacement out of cotton painted with a mixture of gelatine and latex."

  "Latex? Where are they getting latex?" Annamarie asked.

  There was a sigh, a real "how can you not know" sigh, from Jacob. "Don Antonio's duke's daughter is married to the Duke of Braganza."

  Annamarie wasn't really paying attention to Jacob. She was looking at the airship. Cotton was among the most flammable of fabrics, and of course, they probably doped the fabric to waterproof it-with collodion, also known as nitrocellulose, or guncotton. She caught part of what Jacob was saying, and repeated the last name. "Braganza?"

  "Yes. The duke of Braganza, the premier duke of Portugal. Apparently the duke of Medina Sidonia and the duke of Braganza have an agreement to import rubber from the Amazon into Cadiz."

  Annamarie had barely been listening. She was watching the fire, and hoping that making explanations was keeping Jacob's attention away from the fire. Hopefully the adobe construction of the house would protect it, but she could see two of the crew struggling to free their colleague from under the burning gas bag. She didn't want Jacob exposed to the grisly sights she expected, so she turned him to face her. "Jacob, I need you to ride home as fast as you can to get your father. Tell him what we've seen. Tell him we need the burns kit."

  She led Jacob to the horses and threw him up into the saddle. Then she grabbed the medical bags from the pack animal and hurried over to help.

  ****

  She was holding a cup of hydration fluid for the most badly burnt of the Pepino's crew when she heard the drone in the sky. She looked up to see the second airship. This one was much bigger than the Pepino, and it seemed to be heading around the village. A moment's thought and Annamarie realized it was circling so it could approach the village heading into the wind.

  She wasn't the only person watching as the Richard Peeke came to a halt above a field outside the village. Then a heavy rope unrolled from the gondola.

  The tail of the rope had barely hit the ground before the first man swung out and slid down the rope.

  Annamarie winced when the first man down failed to get clear in time. There was a pileup as the three men following him landed in quick succession. It appeared that no real damage had been done when the four men spread out and grabbed lighter landing lines and seemed to be tying down the airship. Then a familiar shape exited the airship.

  What the hell is that crazy fool doing? Swear to God, I'm gonna kill him later. With his hip, John should know better than to fast-rope, let alone do it with a pack on his back.

  "We were lucky they had the Richard Peeke nearly ready for a flight when Jacob arrived," John said when he ran over to her. "What's the situation?"

  "What's the situation? Is that all you can say? What about explaining that damn fool stunt you just pulled?" Annamarie screamed.

  "You asked for the burns pack."

  "But why did you have to bring it down? Aren't there any suitable dumb young men willing to slide down a rope with a pack on their back?"

  "Sure, but . . ."

  "So why didn't you let one of them carry the pack?"

  "Because the Richard Peeke doesn't have enough lift to carry an extra man, and the ground crew needed to secure the landing lines as quickly as possible."

  That all sounded too sensible, and carefully thought out. Annamarie looked her husband in the eyes. Yes, he looked guilty. Her mother's instincts started screaming at her. Surely he hadn't . . . "Where's Jacob?" Annamarie asked, very, very slowly.

  John pointed toward the front of the gondola. "He's still aboard."

  She scanned the airship until she made out Jacob. She desperately wanted to climb that rope and reassure herself that her son was safe. "Why did you have to bring him back?"

  "I couldn't make him miss maybe his only chance to fly in an airship, could I? Besides, someone needs to bring your horses back," John said.

  Her husband was on thin ice. As far as she was conce
rned, there was no reason for Jacob to ever travel in something as dangerous as an airship. However, it was a done deal, and there wasn't anything she could do about it now, not when there were patients to deal with. "We'll talk about this later. Meanwhile, I have one dead crew member and the two other crew members have second-degree burns. They also have third-degree burns on their hands and where their clothes burnt. And six of the villagers suffered minor burns fighting the fire."

  John indicated the two surviving crewmen, currently bundled up in blankets. "Is it safe to move them?"

  "Yes, but it'll be rough getting them up to the gondola."

  "Nah, take on some ballast, vent some gas, and they can bring her right down to the ground. It's one reason I suggested they should use the Richard Peeke."

  "And getting a ride on an airship had nothing to do with it. Yeah, right. Leave me the burns kit and I'll start running fluids while you get the airship down to loading height."

  ****

  Juan de Aguilera stood clear as the first casualty was carried aboard on the "rescue stretcher" that had been made to the up-timers' specifications soon after they discovered that there was plywood being produced for the duke's proposed rigid airship. It had slots for hand-holds cut into the wood, which made it a lot easier to move than the hurdle he'd been carried on when he broke his leg.

  The woman, the doctor, passed an inverted bottle in a wicker basket connected by a string of something to the patient to her husband before returning for the next patient. Juan looked over John's shoulder, but he couldn't identify the man through the bandages that covered his face. He shuddered at the realization that the man was likely to be horribly scarred for life.

  "Hold this," John said, passing Juan the wicker basket.

  He was able to see that it was a tube that connected the bottle to the patient's forearm. "What is it?"

  "It's an intravenous drip. We have to keep the patient's volume up; otherwise he'll go into shock." John got to his feet and held out a hand for the bottle.

  Juan watched John tie it to a part of the gondola frame. That was barely done before the doctor returned with the next patient. While the up-timers dealt with him, the rest of the crew loaded the blanket wrapped body of the third crewman. He stared blankly at the wrapped figure, wondering which of the Pepino's crew it might be.

  "Right. Don Juan, we're ready to go."

  Juan throttled up the engines and waved to the ground team to let go the lines. The Richard Peeke started to drift, and then the thrust of the engines took control. Juan waved goodbye to the crew members who'd been left behind because they'd had to vent gas to get down to the ground, and set course for the clinic.

  Two weeks later

  Juan removed the special sterile coverings he'd been required to wear while visiting Fernando Lopez de Perez in a state of awe. Fernando and his colleague were recovering, and neither had scarring of the face. Sure, both of them had raw-looking faces that were leaking fluid, but the doctor had assured Juan that this was normal. She had even assured him that they should have full use of their hands.

  "The Americans are amazing," Juan said to himself as he dropped the coverings onto the floor.

  "Pick those up and put them in the basket where they are supposed to go."

  Juan wasn't used to being spoken to in that tone. Actually, he wasn't used to being ordered around, period. However, the person giving orders was the midwife who'd attended Magdalida, and right now she appeared to be armed. He quickly picked up the coveralls and shoved them into the laundry basket she was gesturing toward. "What is that?" he asked, gesturing to her weapon.

  The midwife went teary-eyed and drew the weapon against her chest. "This is a gift from God. It is a curette."

  "And what is a curette?"

  Her eyes shifted away from him.

  "What is a curette, and why do you consider it a gift from God?" he demanded.

  Maria backed away from Juan. "It is the tool I needed to save Magdalida."

  The words hit Juan like a hammer blow. He reached out and grabbed Maria by the shoulders. "What do you mean, it is the tool you needed to save Magdalida?"

  Maria tried to look away from Juan, but he was having none of that. He shook her. "What did you mean?"

  "The doctor has taught me an up-time technique that could have stopped the bleeding."

  Juan thrust Maria away. "You lie. Nothing could have saved Magdalida. Dr. Howard said so himself."

  The midwife ran her hands over her shoulders where Juan had gripped them. "It's the truth. Magdalida died because I couldn't get her to deliver all of the afterbirth. Dr. Howard is Padua trained. He wouldn't have been aware of the new up-time medical knowledge. The up-time technique uses special tools to deliver the remaining afterbirth." She reached out a hand and rested it gently on Juan's shoulder. "I've just used the technique in a case similar to Magdalida's, and it stopped the bleeding."

  Juan swallowed bile and stared at Maria. She had no reason to lie. A simple procedure-and surely it had to be simple if the up-timers could teach it to Maria-could have saved his wife. He could feel tears starting to run down his face.

  A comforting arm went around his shoulders and directed his head into Maria's ample bosom, and he cried the tears that hadn't come three years ago.

  ****

  Juana looked up when her eldest son entered the room. "Juan, you've met Anna Maria, haven't you?"

  Juan approached to greet Anna Maria, and Juana saw his face clearly for the first time. "Is there something the matter?" Then she remembered he'd said he was going to visit the injured airmen at the clinic. "Has something happened to Don Fernando?"

  Juan shook his head. "No. He and the student he was training are doing well."

  She rose from her chair and reached up to touch the stains on her son's fashionable, wide, lace-edged collar. It was damp. There were smeared tear tracks running down his face-as if Juan had used his hands to wipe them away. Juana licked the end of her handkerchief and scrubbed at the tracks. "Then why have you been crying?"

  "I ran into Maria the midwife at the clinic. She said . . ." Juan hiccupped and gently pushed Juana away, "that the up-timers have taught her a technique that could have saved Magdalida." The tears started flowing and Juan rushed off.

  "Is everything all right?" Anna Maria asked after Juan left the room.

  Juana stared after Juan. "I think that maybe everything is finally all right. Juan didn't cry after Magdalida died. I think he might have finally started to let her go."

  Anna Maria perked up. "Do you think we should arrange for him to meet Catalina again?"

  "She is still interested?" Juana asked, a little surprised, given the way Juan had run away from their first attempt to introduce them.

  Anna Maria nodded. "Maybe next week . . ."

  "No." Juana shook her head. "That is much too soon. No, we need to give Juan time."

  "Catalina could lose interest if she has to wait too long."

  "Give me a month, with Catalina accompanying you on visits. If during her visits she was to make friends with Isabel and Eduardo, then they will talk about their new friend."

  "And then we arrange for Catalina to be at church when Juan takes the children, and they run to greet her after the service . . ."

  "That would be a little too obvious," Juana said. "We need to be a little more subtle. The children need to talk to Juan about their new friend."

  "And then we arrange for Catalina to be at church when Juan takes the children and they run to greet her after the service."

  Juana grinned at her friend. Once she had an idea in her head she hung onto it like a dog with a bone. "Something like that."

  ****

  As Ye Have Done It Unto One of the Least

  Written by David W. Dove

  Matthew 25:40 And the King shall answer and say unto them, Verily I say unto you, Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto me.

  Amideutsch Lunch Counter

/>   Grantville, Early December 1632

  Johannes Vorkeuffer squirmed uncomfortably from the examining gaze of Louis Garrison, the restaurant owner. Why did the Americans from the future have to be so big? A man that size should be a blacksmith or laborer, not a tavern keeper.

  "How old did you say you are?" the big man asked.

  "I am sixteen, Herr Garrison."

  The man frowned at him. "You should be in school then, not out trying to get a job. Do your parents know you're here?"

  Johannes felt the grief rush through him. "My parents are dead, Herr Garrison."

  The big man's expression instantly became compassionate. "I'm sorry. Do you have any family here?"

  "I have an older sister and a younger brother and sister."

  "Who takes care of you?" Garrison asked.

  "My sister, she works at the laundry; but it does not pay enough. So, I look for work so I can help."

  Johannes sat quietly; he could see the big man was considering him.

  Finally, Garrison smiled. "I'll tell you what, Johannes; I think I can find some work for you."

  Johannes felt both joy and relief. "Thank you, Herr Garrison; I will be a good worker; I promise."

  "Hear me out first. I can only give you a few hours a week and it will be simple work to start, mostly labor around the building. I can't afford to pay you a lot, but it's the same starting wage I give everyone. You will also stay in school; your work hours will only be scheduled after school. Plus, I want to speak with your sister. I won't be hiring you unless it's cleared with her first. Do you understand?"

  "Of course, Herr Garrison; I will tell her you want to speak with her."

  Garrison smiled at him. "Good. I also provide a meal every time you work." He stopped and looked Johannes over. "When was the last time you ate, Johannes?"

  "I had a small piece of bread this morning," he answered truthfully.

  Garrison's smile turned into a frown. "Tell you what; some of the sidewalks around the store still have snow on them. Why don't you take a shovel and clean them off? Then you can come back in and get that meal."