1634: The Ram Rebellion

by Eric Flint

  “Don’t know.” Birdie shook his head. “If people have lived inside the Ring of Fire for three months they just have to register, then they can vote. Sundremda ain’t inside the Ring of Fire, though.”

  It was a Saturday afternoon and they were gathered in Ernst’s new house. This house was similar to his previous home but still different. This house didn’t have indoor plumbing but it was designed to accommodate it. Before the indoor plumbing could be added, Ernst would need to install a septic tank and leach field.

  The delay of the installation was partly a matter of expense and partly a matter of timing. Ernst wanted to put the leach field under the garden plot. He was waiting till spring when the ground thawed. The plumbing still needed to be installed before planting, but he needed to see if they had enough money to install it. This left the house with a bathroom but no bath tub or toilet. At the moment, there was just a covered hole in the floor that had a buried clay pipe leading outside. Birdie and Ernst had also worked out how electricity would be added when it became available.

  All this gave the house an odd, half finished look. That half finished look was common to the new buildings in Sundremda.

  “I have been following the election discussions. This is an important right. To vote is also a responsibility of proper citizens. We should vote,” Greta insisted pedantically. Greta could do pedantic better than just about anyone Birdie knew.

  Birdie looked at Greta for a moment. He knew that the outcome of this election was pretty much a forgone conclusion. On the other hand, Greta was right. Voting was even more important now than it had been up-time.

  “Yes. Yes, it is, but I don’t know how we’d go about it.” Birdie had sort of fallen into the role of village leader. Partly it was because he was an up-timer and partly because he owned his own land even if he rented land in the village.

  “Well, don’t you think we ought to find out?” Mary Lee asked, utterly unimpressed by Birdie’s new found status.

  “We have discussed this in the village. We all agreed that we wish to be citizens of the New United States. We approve of the Bill of Rights,” Greta concluded with certainty.

  * * *

  Liz Carstairs looked at the petition with a sort of bemused incomprehension. The first line read, “A petition to be annexed by Marion County, New United States". The document went on to give the reasoning behind the request. Sundremda wasn’t an independent town but rather a village that was part of a county that no longer existed. Since the death of count Gleichen, who died without heirs, his county had ceased to exist. Legal authority over the territory had gone back to Ferdinand II, the Holy Roman Emperor. Actual ownership of the land was, in this case, a function of legal authority over it. If Ferdinand II continued as the government then he owned the land. If he didn’t then who ever was the government owned the land. In effect the village of Sundremda was public land with a permanent Lehen on it.

  Ferdinand II’s claim was impractical since Ferdinand II didn’t actually control this part of the Germanies. Accepting the emperor’s authority wouldn’t really be in the best interests of the New US, either. For the emperor to own land butting up against the Ring of Fire was a bad idea. The document also pointed out that six of the signers were already citizens of Marion County. Even though the signers didn’t actually live in Sundremda, they were still legal renters since they were members of Birdie’s family.

  The document also pointed out that Marion County was the closest county to Sundremda. It gave assurance that the people of Sundremda would abide by the laws of Marion county and the New US. Then, the document went on to provide the dimensions of the territory and even included a map. Finally it was signed by every person living in the village of Sundremda, not just all the adult males or even just all the adults. Apparently every person in the village signed the petition, including one three year old, who signed with a hand print. The signers gave their name, age, and gender. The signers included, of course, Birdie and Mary Newhouse, their two sons and two daughters-in-law. Apparently, the Newhouse babies hadn’t signed on the dotted line.

  This petition was going to have to go to Mike. While attitudes toward the Holy Roman Empire were not favorable inside the Ring of Fire, the fact remained that Grantville wasn’t actually at war with the Empire, officially. True, Grantville had protected a town from Tilly’s mercenaries. Grantville had also protected another town from mercenaries who no longer worked for anyone but themselves. Grantville had cooperated with troops employed by the king of Sweden in doing that protecting, but there wasn’t a state of war between the still forming New United States and the Holy Roman Empire.

  If the New US approved this petition, a state of war with the Holy Roman Empire would exist. Annexing another country’s territory is pretty much universally a casus belli, even when the folks who actually live there ask to be annexed.

  On the other hand, there might be two or three mental defectives who actually thought Grantville wouldn’t be at war with the HRE before long, but not more than that. Besides, Grantville had already offered to admit several cities to the New US. As soon as one of those cities accepted admission, it would mean the effective annexation of that city.

  * * *

  As it turned out the people of Sundremda didn’t get to vote in that first election. President Stearns had tabled the matter till after the first elections, and then had presented the petition to Congress. Congress had accepted the petition and several others like it. This set at least one precedent of acquisition of territory by the New US. So, the people of Sundremda would be able to vote in the next election.

  * * *

  Egidius “Eddie” Junker shook his head, but only after he left his father’s office. Eddie liked the up-timers. It was a point of considerable tension between him and his father. They didn’t talk about it much. Neither one wanted a breach in their relationship.

  “Michel, please have Shadow saddled. Father wants me to visit Sundremda again.”

  Eddie had picked up the up-time habit of being polite to servants, but not where his father could hear. Eddie was a charming young man, and an excellent rider. He had been a student at Jena when the Ring of Fire happened. He had first encountered Grantville on one of his monthly trips home. The battle of Jena had strengthened his admiration for the up-timers. Eddie was rather less concerned over his ancestry than his father. Nor did he see any reason to be constantly checking on Herr Newhouse.

  The ride to Sundremda was pleasant and easy, even if the road from Badenburg wasn’t improved all the way. Eddie had known the villagers of Sundremda all his life. He remembered well what the village had looked like before the raid and after. This new village looked like it was going to be a much more prosperous place, when it was finished. The villagers seemed to be leaving quite a bit unfinished till they had everything ready. They had carted, or rather “trucked,” a lot of stone from the gap to the village and had a mason finishing stone for floors and the bottom half of walls. Most of the houses had places where the stone floors weren’t installed yet. The snows had slowed the work, mostly limiting it to what could be done from inside.

  Herr Newhouse was friendly enough, considering the circumstances. “How’s school?”

  “Confusing, Herr Newhouse. Everyone is trying to figure out what the Ring of Fire means. Especially in the college of theology, but all of us do the same, really. Every time I go back I get questioned on everything. My father wishes to know what this petition for annexation is about.”

  “You can tell your . . .” Herr Newhouse visibly caught himself. “Never mind, boy, it’s not your fault. The petition is just what it sounds like. The village wants to be part of the New US. We didn’t ask your father about it because we know he’s opposed to Badenburg joining the New US. Besides, he doesn’t live here. We didn’t ask Ferdy Hapsburg to sign either.”

  Ferdy Hapsburg? Ferdinand II, the Holy Roman Emperor? Sometimes up-timers made Eddie nervous. He changed the subject. “How are things here?”

 
“We’re doing all right. Got most of the stone up from the slot and the mason is cutting and finishing it. Everything is a bit crowded this winter but we’ll have plenty of stone for our needs come spring. I understand the kids at the high school have some sort of concrete project going so it looks like there will be mortar too. Talked to Mrs. O’Keefe and she figures she can fit us in once the ground thaws. So we should be putting in a bunch of septic systems come spring.”

  They discussed the village for some time. Eddie then went home to report to his father and escaped back to Jena as soon as he could.

  * * *

  Spring planting was a little different. Birdie had never really gotten to know Tom Stone. He hadn’t really wanted to get to know him. There was a very basic difference between them: Birdie was a solid upstanding hillbilly and Stoner was a hippie freak. Now, Birdie was consulting with Tom Stone on the planting of a new crop.

  “This is not a crop I’d ever have dreamed I’d be planting,” Birdie remarked. “Never in a million years.”

  Stoner grinned. “Don’t feel lonesome, man. It’s the last thing I’d have dreamed of, too. Ten full acres of prime Columbian, and it’s planted right out in the open. Man, what a sight that’s going to be.”

  Stoner, in his laid back way, explained the details of planting to get the best, meaning the most powerful, product. His knowledge of agriculture in general and marijuana in particular was pretty impressive. Aside from breeding for the active ingredient, you also had to plant the marijuana farther apart to get a potent plant. So the number of plants per acre went down when you were planting for dope instead of hemp.

  “We’re going to need it,” Stoner explained. “It’s the best locally grown painkiller we have. I’d grow it all, myself, if I could. Just so I could donate it to the hospital.”

  “Man’s gotta make a living, Stoner. I’m growing it for the lowest price I can manage,” Birdie explained. “Best I can do.”

  * * *

  After much argument, the Sundremda Gemeinde had decided that most of this year’s crop would be beans and wheat. It would be down-time beans and wheat, at that. Birdie had wanted to plant sweet corn but there wasn’t enough seed to go around.

  The population of Grantville was getting up to around fifteen thousand and Badenburg had over seven thousand. The population was going up. Consequently Sundremda was switching from growing flax to producing food.

  Neither Birdie nor the other farmers in Sundremda were sure that this was the best plan. As the population increased, the need for both food and flax was going up. Flax might have brought in more profit.

  “Ernst, the real problem with growing flax is the spinning,” Birdie argued. “We can send wheat to Grantville, get it milled real quick, and then the flour can be made into bread when it’s needed. Flax will have to be spun into thread and no one has come up with a spinning machine yet. That’s the bottleneck.”

  The down-timers had spinning wheels, but even with spinning wheels turning flax into thread was a lot of work. Birdie wasn’t sure how long re-inventing a spinning machine was going to take, but from what the newspapers said, it wasn’t going to happen this year.

  “The price for flax in the field is going to go down, I think,” Birdie continued. “It will have to be shipped to towns and villages all over the place, spun into thread, and then the thread will have to be shipped somewhere else to be woven into cloth.”

  Spinning was the seventeenth century version of flipping burgers at McDonald’s, except it didn’t pay as well, was harder work, and had less opportunity for advancement.

  Grantville was the land of opportunity. The spinners would be looking for better ways to make a living and a lot of them would find those better ways. The way Birdie figured it the increase in demand for cloth was not going to be reflected in an increased price of flax until the spinning bottleneck was fixed.

  “Some one will build a spinning machine,” Ernst disagreed. “So many people who can build so many things, surely someone will figure out a way to get more flax spun.”

  “Yep, but it ain’t gonna happen soon. And until it does, all it means is more spinners. Spinners who are going to demand, and get, better pay. That’s going to mean less money per acre for the raw flax.”

  Ah, the simple farmer’s life. Birdie thought Predicting market trends a year in advance, and then hoping like hell the weather doesn’t screw you over.

  * * *

  “LaDonna, have you finished all those tax assessments?” Deborah Trout asked, as she breezed into the office. “We need to get the notices sent, even though I dread the reactions we’re going to get from the public.”

  “It’s not going to be pretty, that’s for sure,” LaDonna agreed. “Strange, isn’t it? All those years back up-time, and everyone complained about their taxes. Wait until everyone sees the new valuations. We’re going to be in hot water with everyone we know. They’re going to completely flip out.”

  “We did tell everyone,” Cary Marshall pointed out. “It’s been on television, and there have been articles in the newspapers.”

  “True, absolutely true,” Deborah agreed. “And you know as well as I do that the new rate is still going to come as a shock to half the town. People just don’t really pay attention until they get the bill. Anyway, we’ve got about a week of peace and quiet before the frenzy starts, so let’s get some work done while we can.”

  Deborah turned to head back to her own office, but stopped when Noelle Murphy cleared her throat. Noelle always made that sound when she had a question. It was usually a good question, but Deborah had begun to dread that sound. Noelle tended to complicate things unnecessarily, to Deborah’s way of thinking.

  “Umm, Deborah, I don’t know where to send these notices,” Noelle began. “There’s no owner of record for these properties.”

  “What properties, Noelle?”

  “It’s that village, what’s its name, Sundremda, I think. The people don’t own the property, they just rent it. The guy who has the Lehen, well, near as I can tell, holding the Lehen isn’t the same as owning the property. And, I don’t really think that Ferdinand II is going to pay taxes on it, either, since we sort of took it away from him. So, who pays the property taxes on Sundremda?”

  Deborah worked through Noelle’s logic and sighed. “That’s all we need, another complication. I guess Marion County owns Sundremda now that we’ve annexed it. And the county doesn’t pay taxes to itself, does it? So, the county is responsible for yet another piece of property that doesn’t bring in any revenue. Crap!”

  * * *

  “Claus, what has happened?” Clara asked. “What is it?”

  Claus Junker sat in his home office, devastated. “Pomeroy is dead. The only one of these up-timers I could tolerate, and he is dead in an accident.”

  It looked to Clara like the news of Guffy Pomeroy’s death had hit Claus hard. Claus didn’t know that many up-timers, and mostly didn’t like the ones he did know. He’d been opposed to joining the New US and believed that his was the single voice of sanity on the council. Now, the one up-timer that he had liked and trusted was dead.

  “The microwave project, it is dead, also. The paper says that Pomeroy was a charlatan and there is no hope for a microwave projector, not for years!” Claus stormed. “And I used funds... funds from the town to finance this project, and it will not happen.”

  Clara felt her stomach clench with fear. “Town funds, Claus? How could you? You never should have trusted that man with so much. Can we pay it back? Before we are disgraced?”

  Claus rose from his desk in a rage. He stomped around the room, shouting and swearing. “No, Clara, no, we can’t pay it back! This Ring of Fire, it is the work of the devil! Act of God, people say, therefore the rents due me are void. Even the pastor, that Pastor Schultheiss, is preaching that this Ring of Fire was an act of God!” Claus shouted. “The only good thing that came out of the Ring of Fire was Pomeroy. And now, now, I am told that he was a thief, and he has ruined us! Ther
e is no hope, they claim, no possible way to create a microwave projector, not for years!”

  Claus was becoming incoherent. He continued to rant and shout, at times towering over Clara, at other times stamping around the room. He shouted that all around him people were getting rich from the up-timer’s knowledge, and getting above themselves. The riffraff were thrilled with the Ring of Fire, the up-timers, their inventions and their committees of correspondence. Even people that should know better were fawning on the up-timers.

  Then the real reason for his rage began to come out. Clara knew as well as Claus that Endres Ritter was just waiting for an excuse to go over the books and accuse Claus of theft. Before the Ring of Fire, a member of the council would have been protected from such an accusation. It wasn’t all that unusual, after all. Using city funds for personal advantage was standard practice. As long as the city got its money back it was no problem. Even when something went wrong, there was a slap on the wrist and a lot of looking the other way. Back then, the council wanted to avoid the scandal. But now there was the Ring of Fire and new rules.

  The Ritter and Junker families had been feuding so long that most people didn’t remember why. Ritter would raise the accusation no matter the scandal to the council. He would raise the up-time cry “freedom of information". Never mind the fact that the Ritter family had done the same thing a few years ago and made a small fortune at the city’s expense. That was then, this was now.

  Clara Junker was terrified. She left the office as soon as she could get away. Claus had been ready to actually hit her. She was sure of it. Claus had never threatened her with violence before. He was gruff and often sarcastic but not violent, not to those of his own class.

  Clara was less involved than she would have preferred in the financial decision making for the Junker family. Her upbringing had prepared her to be a good bit more involved in financial decisions. She knew that Claus had mostly done a good job. He’d been willing to listen if she was careful how she approached him, at least until the Ring of Fire.