Grantville Gazette, Volume X

by Eric Flint

  Carl looked around and squatted to look straight into Dolf's eyes. He almost whispered, "Don't tell anybody but I gave that watchman an ordinary Saxon Groschen I happened to have in my pouch. I just wanted to see if it would be sent on to Herr Wagner."

  Realization burst into Dolf's eyes. "Are you Spartacus?"

  Carl put his finger to his lips. "Oh, no. But he told me to come here to see if your report was correct. Other people had complained but your letter was the first to indicate some money wasn't going where it should. What Jan and the rest of the organization do with what they receive is still impressive."

  "Do you work for the Magdeburg Committee?"

  Carl gave a shake of his head. "Not exactly. I happened to be in Magdeburg and Spartacus is a friend of mine. So when I said I was headed south to Halle, he asked if I'd make a detour."

  "Is that how you, no, well, what do you do?"

  "I play my fiddle to make money. As you've figured out, I have connections and sometimes I do things for them."

  "When I grow up, could I become a member?"

  "Sure. By the time you're my age, the CoCs will be very different. They'll transform into political parties, still pushing for the same social reforms and improvements but in political assemblies such as the city council, Landestags and even a national assembly."

  "But I'll be a farmer! I'll be in a farming village."

  "Nothing says a farmer can't be a politician. In fact, my, well . . . never mind. Down in Franconia, right now, farmers are some of those pushing hardest for change. Aschersleben might be officially in the Magdeburg bishopric but that'll never last, not under the Swedes and the new Confederated Principalities."

  * * *

  Dolf flew down the road home that evening brimming with excitement. First, just the idea that Spartacus . . . Spartacus . . . had read something written by him, thrilled him more than anything he could imagine.

  Second, Spartacus had sent Carl, a grown man, to Aschersleben, just to find out if what he said was true. Spartacus was so great that he didn't dismiss what a ten year-old boy wrote to him!

  Mama noticed something had definitely changed but didn't say anything, just continued to prepare the evening meal. Papa walked into the house and washed his face and hands before sitting at the table. Katya sat quietly in her chair.

  Papa rarely talked after giving grace until he'd finished his bowl of soup. Today, though, after having a few spoonfuls, he turned his head and looked at Dolf. "So what's the news in the city?"

  Dolf was already bouncing in his seat. "I, I wrote a letter to Spartacus. He's a man who works with Gretchen Richter. For the CoCs. About Heinrich at the Golden Lion. I read a brochure he wrote. Spartacus, not Heinrich. I saw how Heinrich split out and kept some of the money that he collected for the Committee. So he sent Carl to find out. Carl works with the Magdeburg Committee but he's, you know, different from them. Carl says I can become a member. Says that it was good that I wrote to Spartacus about what I saw. But he's leaving tomorrow."

  Papa watched Dolf talk, nodding regularly but looking serious until his son stopped. He nodded twice more. "Good. That's good, son. I think we ought to leave early tomorrow to get a good stall to sell our produce. That way we can sell it and listen to Carl." Papa paused. "Perhaps he'll even mention our goods."

  Dolf couldn't help himself. He laughed so hard he fell off his chair. Everyone else was so laughing loudly that he got on his chair again and this time deliberately repeated the fall. Which made everyone laugh again. Then Katya fell off her chair and everyone laughed. Mama and Papa let them fall off their chairs one more time before they said it was time for bed.

  * * *

  Dolf rushed about his morning routine, remembering not to let out Carl's horse. By the time he returned home, Mama, Papa and Katya had already harvested two large baskets of vegetables to take to the market.

  It was fortunate that they got there early because it seemed like every village for miles around sent at least two or three farmers to sell their goods. Dolf smiled, thinking about how very soon Heinrich was going to hate giving up so much money. Spartacus was going to take care of that.

  There had already been a lot of buying by the time Carl came into the market. As usual before going to Georg's stall, he talked to several vendors, including Dolf's parents. "Hello, Daniel, Anna." He stopped, then grinned at Katya. "How's Katya today?" Embarrassed and hiding a smile, Katya ducked behind her mother.

  Carl squatted and looked at the stacks of carrots, onions, cabbage and celery on display. "They look good. I don't think you're going to have to take any home today. Not with as many people as are here."

  "Saturdays are always good," Papa said with a trace of a smile. "Nobody will be selling tomorrow so people have to buy for today and tomorrow. You should know that."

  Carl grinned. "I do but after three days here, I almost forgot the difference." He rose. "Time to move on."

  By the time Carl arrived at Georg's stall, Gertrude was talking with Dolf. "I was telling Dolf I made arrangements with Elina that if I get low on bleaching powder, she'll go get more so I won't be embarrassed at having none when customers arrive."

  Carl looked at her, a teasing smile on his lips and his eyes wide in innocence. "Dolf, do you think I should mention her powder? After all, as you mentioned yesterday, she hasn't even offered to wash my clothes."

  Dolf knew he was only teasing but Gertrude's fair face flamed. "Do whatever you want!" She stalked away.

  "Should I tell her you were only teasing?"

  Carl chuckled and gave a brisk shake of his head. "She knows. She just didn't have a response ready. Or didn't want to make any concessions." He opened his fiddle case and drew out his instrument. "People can be funny that way. Especially women. You'll learn all about that someday." He looked as if he was going to comment further but stopped.

  As he tuned his fiddle people began to gather, requesting favorite songs. "Backe, backe Kuchen?" he asked, looking down at Dolf. "Who wanted that song?"

  "Hanna Weber, the baker who makes the rolls for Georg's onions."

  A quick opening back and forth of the bow on the strings opened the set. "Good morning, everyone. So nice to see people in a good mood today. Georg in the stall next to me will be selling onions roasted with herbs in a little while. They'll be in freshly baked rolls for a delightful snack. Speaking of bakers, Hanna Weber, down the street from here made the rolls. She not only bakes delicious rolls but also other breads and mouth-watering pastries. Speaking of baking and for the children, here's a song you know. I want all of you to join in." He drew his bow across the strings again. "Backe, backe Kuchen, der Bäcker hat gerufen . . ."

  After singing the song through, Carl began to play around the melody line before coming back to the original line and singing it again with the children. "Now here's another song both children and adults can sing. Du bist mein Sonnenschein, mein einzig Sonnenschein . . ."

  Dolf laughed, seeing the initial confusion on some adults who thought they should know the words. The younger set just picked up the happy words as they went. By the time Carl began the chorus a second time, they were singing it as if their parents had sung them the tune as a lullaby.

  Carl played several more tunes, ending with a quick jig. "If you're looking for vegetables for today or tomorrow's meals, I looked over the selection Daniel Bauers and Anna Klein set out. I don't think you'll find better in the market today. I'm going to take a break right now to retune but don't go far. I'll be playing again in a few minutes."

  Dolf noticed that before the last two tunes, Carl had managed to mention Herr Oehlslegel and Gertrude Fischel's businesses. "Why did you mention her again after she got so angry with you?"

  Carl cocked his head and gave a slight smile. "I told you I had my reasons. I happen to have met the people who make all the products she sells. That she's selling them and is a member of the local Committee is no coincidence. It's that way in all the towns. So I encourage their sales."

  "Oh.
" Dolf had never considered that the two activities went so well together. He thought for a moment. "I guess it's, well, like being a Christian and doing good works. If you're doing one, you should be doing the other."

  Carl sighed. "Now you're going theological on me. Next thing I know, you'll be headed off to the University of Leipzig like Maria Prost's son did."

  The idea was so completely absurd to Dolf that he laughed. Carl joined in but it wasn't his usual warm chuckle. Had he really meant it?

  The morning passed and they ate a meal, this time supplied by one of the nearby taverns in return for a mention. They had just finished another set when Dolf saw three men ride in from the north. Riders dressed like ordinary workmen, but why would they be riding horses? The leader of the three men had a broken nose and pale blue eyes that pierced, even from a distance.

  Carl caught the direction Dolf was looking and made a grim frown. "Dolf, in my town we used to make jokes such as, 'You know you're going to have a bad day when the sun rises in the west.'"

  Dolf wrinkled his brow. "But it rises in the east. Everybody knows that."

  "Uh huh. And if it rises in the west?"

  Dolf giggled. "You're really going to have a bad day."

  "Right. Here's another. You know you're going to have a bad day when Gunther Schlosser comes to visit."

  "Was that him? What's funny about that?"

  "Not a thing. If you're the person he came to see." Carl gave a heavy sigh. "Gunther happens to be Spartacus' head of security. Like Heinrich's supposed to be. Only Gunther hates to leave Magdeburg and when he does it's because he's going to do something. 'Direct action' is what the CoCs call it. You really, really don't want to be the object of his attentions."

  Carl played several tunes and bantered with his audience while Dolf pondered why Guenther would have come to this city. Surely he wasn't going to do anything that bad to Heinrich. What could have been important enough to bring him here?

  Dolf emptied Carl's hat for the final time and was surprised when Carl handed him back several pfennigs. "Today's been good." He packed up his fiddle and handed it to Dolf. "You carry it. I'm going over to the Golden Lion to pick up my bag, my walking stick and the money Heinrich's supposed to pay me for the two nights I've played. Sometimes a tavern owner tries to avoid payment, figuring I won't take the time or money to sue him in court. He's right on that but wrong that I won't do anything."

  "You mean you'll fight him?"

  Carl gave a twisted smile and shook his head. "You must have me confused with someone adventurous. I try to avoid trouble. It's safer. I just get the head of the town's CoC security or its chairman or someone else to return with me. But just in case Heinrich decides to get nasty, if I say the word 'scoot,' I mean for you to get out of there, right away. Which is also why I gave you my fiddle. To keep you and it safe. Understand?"

  Dolf's heart was thumping wildly as Carl picked up his bag and absurdly straight walking stick from a hidden corner in the storage room. "Two down, one to go." Carl smiled but with a trace of unease.

  "Just how stupid do you think I am, Carl?" Heinrich snarled a few moments later. He was standing before them in the main aisle with the front door behind them. Dolf heard the bar to the entrance door go down shortly before two CoC watchmen moved to flank Carl's movements. "Think I don't know who you are? You're one of Spartacus' college friends, all sweetness and talk. You think you can just move on after you've stabbed me in the back. Oh, and if you think he's going to come here in response to your letter two days ago . . ." Heinrich wore a nasty smile as he held up the neatly folded paper addressed to Joachim Thierbach.

  Carl slipped his bag to the floor and kicked it under a table. Looking directly at Heinrich and gripping his walking stick firmly, he said, "Scoot."

  It took a moment for Dolf to realize who he was talking to. In a flash he was at the door and threw off the bar before either of the watchmen could stop him. He ran straight into the street, narrowly missing a cart and heard the bar slam down on the other side of the Golden Lion's door.

  Dolf stopped for a moment then ran to the market. His parents were talking to a vendor at a different stall. "Papa! Heinrich and two watchmen have Carl trapped inside the Golden Lion!"

  Papa turned to the next stall. "Where's your uncle, Gertrude?"

  "He should be in his print shop but it's late right now and besides, I think he's talking with those men who rode in."

  "Gunther Schlosser?" Dolf asked.

  "Is that who that mean-looking man is?" She pursed her lips. "Yes, it would have to be. There they are!" She pointed at a group of several determined-looking men moving rapidly in their direction.

  Papa ran over to them. "Heinrich has Carl trapped at the Golden Lion."

  Gunther Schlosser narrowed his eyes. "If Carl doesn't come out of there in good health, your butcher's going to have to be careful about what meat he buys."

  Dolf shivered at his cold words.

  "We'll go in the back door," Jan Wagner announced.

  * * *

  The two watchmen were on the floor unconscious, blood streaming from their broken faces. Carl held his walking stick at the ready, on the other side of a table from Heinrich, watching the knives in his hands.

  "That stick's a lot sturdier than it looks." Heinrich moved to Carl's right towards the end of the table. "You're also a lot better with it than I ever would have imagined."

  "It's almost the symbol of authority for Jena Committee watchmen. I practice with them when I'm in town."

  "Yes, a University of Jena student. I don't know Latin so I couldn't tell exactly what you wrote. But I read my name and know who Joachim Thierbach is." Heinrich made a sudden move around the table and rushed at Carl.

  The younger man thrust his staff towards Heinrich and then rounded the far end of the table. "I thought you'd be smarter than this, Heinrich. Haven't you ever heard that pigs get fat and hogs get butchered? You weren't just dipping your bucket into the cash stream. You were diverting a good part of it. Did you think no one would notice?"

  "Oh, two people did get too nosy." Heinrich sneered. He grabbed the end of the table, shoving it against the wall. He rounded the table again, now on the same side as Carl. He feinted with his left hand and then lunged with his right. Before Carl brought down his stick on that side, Heinrich had withdrawn again.

  Carl took another step back.

  "They disappeared before they told anyone. Just like you will. I waited so your disappearance would be about the same time as you said you were going to leave. It won't be noticed." Heinrich feinted with his right this time. When Carl didn't react, he lunged again with his right. Carl brought down his stick too late to hurt Heinrich. He moved to his right and tripped over one of the fallen watchmen, losing his balance. He dropped to the floor, his stick falling away from him.

  The older man immediately charged and Carl dove under the table. He knocked over three chairs as he rolled quickly to his feet on the other side. A moment later he moved to a different table so as not to be trapped again. As Heinrich came between the tables, Carl shoved the one in front of him at Heinrich, slamming it into his hip. A moment later, Heinrich freed himself and limped forward.

  "Little more exercise than you're used to, isn't it, Heinie?" Carl taunted the older man. Both men had sweat running down their faces but Heinrich was also red-faced and puffing. "Don't forget, you're going to have to come up with an explanation of how the two guys on the floor over there got their faces ripped open.

  "One more thing. You should be crapping your pants right now. Gunther Schlosser rode into town today. Five will get you ten that the only reason he's not here right now is that he's questioning your other watchmen with Jan Wagner watching. You see, when Joachim didn't receive my letter, he probably sent Gunther to find out why. You really ought to riding out of town rather than chasing after me with knives."

  "A little too late for that now," a deeper voice came from the backroom side of the bar. Jan Wagner was there with Gunth
er, two watchmen looking a little worse for the wear and Daniel Bauers.

  * * *

  Dolf watched the excitement from a distance, but was close enough to understand Carl's humor. You were going to have a bad day when Gunther Schlosser came to see you. Herr Schlosser was . . . scary.

  While he watched the action with Gunther, Heinrich and Jan Wagner, he lost track of Carl and Papa. When he next noticed them, they were standing together talking. Carl was giving Papa a double-handed handshake like Herr Oehlschlegel had yesterday. Then both of them turned to look at him with grim smiles. Dolf knew it meant trouble for him. May as well get it over with.

  Head down, he trudged over to them. Heinrich had been taken away and men were checking out the tavern's cellar floor. Dolf lifted his head as a thought came to him. In all the excitement, Carl never received his fee for playing at the Golden Lion. He was about to mention it when Adam Oehlschlegel and his wife joined the small group.