Ring of fire II (assiti shards)

by Eric Flint

  "I had a feeling this might happen. I had the jury polled yesterday, and they were split down the middle. I'm getting too old for this, and I want to propose the following solution. Mr. Bradshaw, if you would please?"

  In his quiet, Cheshire-accented voice, John Bradshaw offered a plea bargain: Corporal Linn would plead guilty to a Class A misdemeanor assault charge and be given a suspended sentence. In exchange, he would be put under bastardy bond; he would acknowledge Sherry's baby, assuming it was born alive; and he would continue to support the child financially until it turned eighteen. Finally, Corporal Linn would not be disciplined by the military for this incident.

  "If you agree to this," Riddle said, "you will be held strictly to it. If you try to evade your obligations, young man, your sentence will be reinstated and you will serve every single day of it, I promise you."

  Johann Selfisch conferred with his client. "We accept this offer, Your Honor."

  "Is this acceptable to you, Ms. Murray?"

  "I can't go through this again, Your Honor." Sherry said.

  "Are you sure you want to give up so easily, Sherry?" Artemisia asked. "It doesn't seem like enough for what happened."

  "It's more than I would get if another jury let him off the hook. I agree to this, Your Honor."

  Sherry spent the next few days with her family. Artemisia understood; she had family things she needed to take care of as well. She had to speak to her daughter's fiance about his future employment.

  "Gia, I have a proposal for you. It may, I think, offer you a job you will find rewarding."

  "Sure. What is it?"

  "Lieutenant von Kessel spoke very highly of your skills in working with people and said that you have excellent manners. You always treat others with respect, even when they don't deserve it. He also told me that you are utterly reliable. He was quite sorry, in fact, that you did not plan to reenlist."

  Jabe just flushed and stammered. Artemisia smiled and continued: "I have seen for myself that you are good at coordinating things. Prudentia and I will need someone reliable to represent our interests, meet with patrons and see that work is delivered and paid for. This is something family does, and you are now family. It would afford you the opportunity to meet important people and see a little of the world."

  For just a brief moment Jabe looked trapped, but then he nodded. "I can do that. I think I'd like that. I haven't been anywhere much except Grantville and Magdeburg, except for a trip up to Luebeck a few months ago."

  "It is settled then."

  "Yeah, except…"

  "Yes?"

  "I'll need some help. And I just had a good idea."

  ***

  A part of Sherry didn't want to pick up the things she'd left at Artemisia's home. She hoped they would stay friends, but she expected now that the trial was over, just about everybody would forget her. She was surprised when she found not only Artemisia, but also her two daughters and Jabe McDougal waiting for her. She noticed the ring on Prudentia's finger.

  "Congratulations," she said to the young woman. Atemisia's daughter glowed with happiness.

  "You know you and the child are always welcome wherever I am," Artemesia said. "But I wish to offer you a job."

  "What can I do for you? I can't even draw stick figures."

  "I need… what is the term?… a personal assistant." Artemisia looked to Jabe and he nodded. "Someone I can trust. My soon-to-be son-in-law suggested you, and I can think of no one better. It won't pay well at first, but I think I can provide a living for you if you are willing to learn some needed skills. Please say yes."

  Sherry found she couldn't say yes. She was too choked up. She could only nod.

  "Good," said Artemisia, beaming with delight. "Your first job will be to help me plan a wedding."

  The Chase

  Iver P. Cooper

  Grantville High School

  July 1633

  "Are you ready to play?" Gabrielle Ugolini asked, tennis racket in hand.

  "Hang on a sec, my hands are cracking. Let me get some lotion." Heather Mason reached into her school daypack. One of the geeks at school had nicknamed it the "magic bag of holding" because there was enough stuff in it to fill a pocket universe. Her hand emerged, triumphantly, with a plastic bottle. The up-time lotion was long gone, but it had been carefully filled with Doctor Gribbleflotz's "Celestial Dew of Mount Sapo." She squeezed out a bit of "dew," and rubbed her hands together.

  "Okay," she yelled across the net, "What's the holdup? Serve!"

  The Barbie Consortium had staged yet another takeover. This time, it wasn't financial. There were three tennis courts at the high school, and they were playing on all of them. Hayley Fortney and Susan Logsden were playing singles on one, Judy Wendell and Vicky Emerson on the second. There was a doubles game on the final court, Heather and Gabrielle on one side, Millicent Anne Barnes and Kelsey Mason on the other. Kelsey wasn't actually a member of the Barbie Consortium, but she was Heather's older sister, and a good athlete.

  ***

  The main road was on an embankment, looking down at the tennis courts. William Cavendish, the third earl of Devonshire, stood there, watching the game. He was on his "grand tour" of Europe, a rite of passage for young British noblemen. He had traveled through France and Italy and across the Alps with his governor, Thomas Hobbes. On this fine summer morning, he was just three months shy of sixteen years of age.

  "Geoffrey, what game are they playing?" Geoffrey Watson was one of the three lesser servants he had brought with him to Grantville.

  "I couldn't say, sir."

  "They're hitting the ball about with rackets. And there's a net to separate them. It's almost tennis. But there are no walls. It can't be tennis without playing shots off the walls and rooftops. And those balls-look how bouncy they are!"

  "Fifteen-love!" shouted one of the girls.

  William snapped his fingers. "This is some kind of tennis. No way the same crazy scoring system would appear, by chance, in an unrelated game."

  William had been left to his own devices because he had interrupted Hobbes one time too many as the tutor tore through the Grantville Public Library. The last straw had been when William had brought Hobbes a comic book, saying, "Mister Hobbes, look at this, it has your name on it." Hobbes had taken a quick look at The Complete Calvin and Hobbes and then suggested that William go find the local gymnasium and converse with other gentlemen his age. With Geoffrey to watch over him, of course.

  "Don't look now, but cute stranger at four o'clock," said Heather.

  Gabrielle looked, of course, although she tried to turn her head as little as possible. "Since when are you interested in boys?"

  Heather didn't deign to answer. "You think he's some kind of nobleman?"

  "Duh? Dressed like that, he has to be. Guy next to him is obviously a servant."

  "Perhaps he's a prince?"

  "I hope not. Can't do much of a curtsey in tennis whites."

  "He only has one servant. Maybe he's just a duke."

  "With blond curls like those, even a mere earl would be acceptable."

  "So, do we talk to him?"

  Heather sighed. "No, he'd probably think we were forward."

  "You could pretend to sprain your ankle."

  "Real smart. Then I'd have to limp along the rest of the day, or he'd know I faked it. And why."

  Millicent, waiting on the other side of the net, was dancing around, impatient. "Have you gotten tired of tennis?"

  "Give us five minutes," Gabrielle shouted back. She turned back to Heather. "I suppose 'Hey! Don't I know you from somewhere?' would sound kinda lame."

  "Ver-ree lame."

  "Hey, I have the solution." Gabrielle turned and shouted, "John!" Gabrielle's brother John and Heather's older brother Derrick were nearby, playing one-on-one.

  Heather was appalled. "But I don't want anyone to know."

  "Everything's under control, Heather." Gabrielle raised her voice. "John, you moron, get your ass over here."
/>   "Gabe, you made me miss the shot!"

  "Big deal." She glared at him, arms akimbo.

  "I'm coming. Jeesh." John walked over, while Derrick stayed behind, practicing layups.

  "What's the problem, Gabe? Need a tennis lesson?"

  "Stop dribbling the basketball with your head; it's affecting your brain. I need you to introduce yourself to that young man over there." She jerked her head, ever so slightly, in William's direction.

  "Where is there?"

  "I am not going to point, you idiot, I am trying to be subtle. S-U-uh-B-T-L-E. The one with the fancy doublet and the feathered cap. With the servant in black, behind him. Ask him if he is interested in sports, where he's from, how long he'll be in town, that kind of thing. Can you handle it?"

  "Hey, you aren't interested in this guy, are you?"

  "No, no, this is a public service announcement. Heather's making eyes at him. Or thinking about it."

  "Heather?"

  "Not a word to anyone about it, or I'll squash you like a bug."

  "What about Kelsey? Or Derrick?"

  "Definitely not Derrick."

  Derrick had belatedly followed John. "What don't you want to tell me?"

  The jig was up. "Keep your eyes where they are, but Heather's interested in that guy, the nobleman up on the road."

  Derrick strained his peripheral vision. "Heather, you don't know anything about him. And you know what most of the down-timers think about girls."

  "When I want you to protect me, I'll let you know. In the meantime, stay out of my life."

  "But-"

  "But would you like me to tell everyone about the swimming hole incident?"

  Derrick blushed a deep red. "John, I'll wait for you at the basket." And off he ran.

  "I hope you haven't done permanent damage to his psyche," John said. "Unless it will throw off his shooting."

  "Well, what about the down-timer? We don't have all day."

  "Get back to the game. I'll watch you play for a few minutes, then check him out. Is that S-U-B-T-L-E enough for you?"

  Kelsey and Millicent were sitting on their side of the court, gabbing.

  "What are you waiting for?" yelled Gabrielle. "Let's play!"

  Heather tried two serves, both of which went into the net. It wasn't easy to keep her eyes on the ball and on the mysterious stranger at the same time.

  After a few centuries had passed, John strolled over to William.

  "New to Grantville?" They spoke for several minutes.

  Heather was getting impatient. She waved Gabrielle over for further consultation. "I told him to introduce himself, not recite the Gettysburg Address."

  "Just keep your mind on the game, okay? We're putting on a show for him, y'know."

  At long last, John returned. "He's British, name's William Cavendish, he's the earl of Devonshire." Heather and Gabrielle laughed. "Have you girls gone nuts? What's so funny about Devonshire?" They laughed again.

  "Anyway, he's done the grand tour through France and Italy and now he and his tutor are in beautiful downtown Grantville."

  "Tell him that if he hasn't tired of Italian food, he can join us at the pizza parlor for lunch."

  ***

  Hobbes had given Geoffrey clear instructions. "Remember, you are supposed to keep Lord Devonshire out of trouble. No buying of supposedly ancient artifacts. No attempted descents into volcanoes. And most importantly, no playing chess with courtesans." All references to William's past escapades.

  Well, there were no ancient artifacts here, just futuristic ones. There were no volcanoes, just chimneys here and there. And, while these ladies certainly were showing a lot of leg, Geoffrey was quite sure they weren't courtesans.

  In fact, Geoffrey was pretty sure they were upper class. Whoever heard of servants wearing spotless white outfits, outdoors?

  So there was no reason for intervention on Geoffrey's part, none at all.

  Anyway, Geoffrey was enjoying the view.

  Grantville Public Library

  July 1633

  "Excuse me, but the guard tells me that your name is Thomas Hobbes. Is that right?"

  Hobbes frowned at the woman who had just accosted him. "Yes, I am. Mister Thomas Hobbes, a bachelor of Oxford University, and tutor to the third earl of Devonshire."

  "Well, that's great. I read your book."

  "My book? You mean my translation of Thucydides? I hadn't expected that anyone in Grantville would have heard of it."

  "Thucydides?"

  "Yes, Thucydides' History of the Peloponnesian War."

  "No, no. Leviathan."

  "Leviathan?"

  "Oh, yes, I had to read it in school." She put her hand to her mouth. "I forgot. You might not have written it yet."

  It had not even occurred to Hobbes that his name would be remembered, and his writings read, four centuries in the future.

  "Is Leviathan about my contributions to geometry? Did I publish my method of squaring the circle? Am I a famous mathematician of your past?"

  "Um, Leviathan is about politics. The 'Leviathan' is the government and, uh, that's all I remember."

  That was even more of a surprise. Since he had not written anything about political philosophy yet.

  "Is there anywhere I can find a copy of this Leviathan?" Hobbes was a firm believer in predestination, but this was getting ridiculous.

  "We have a copy here, and there should be stuff about you in the encyclopedias."

  "About me?"

  "Just don't weird out when you read the date you died. The Ring of Fire changed history. And even little changes, like who was where on a particular day, can add up to become big ones. Anyway, gotta run."

  Hobbes sighed. If the library lady knew about him, it was certain that others did, too. Half the down-timers in the Grantville Public Library were probably there as spies for someone else. Hobbes realized that he had best find out what the books of the future had to say about him.

  As if he didn't already have enough to worry about. He had, as instructed, looked up various members of the Cavendish family. The entry for one of the William's uncles, the earl of Newcastle, mentioned that he had been a royalist commander during the English Civil War, and later a member of the privy council of Charles II.

  This led to the discovery that in the original time line, in 1649, King Charles' head was chopped off. Hobbes' friend, the king's physician, William Harvey, had visited Grantville in early 1632, and Hobbes suspected that this bit of history was what had prompted Harvey's hasty return to London.

  The encyclopedias also revealed that the Cavendishes were forced into exile during the era of parliamentary rule. So they, too, would want to know who became a roundhead, and who, a cavalier.

  Surprisingly, during the Restoration, the unwed William's yet-to-be-born son had become a leader of the opposition to the pro-Catholic policies of Charles II and James II. Indeed, a leader of the Glorious Revolution that unseated the last Stuart king. Leading naturally to the question, did King Charles know that, and would it create a political problem for the Cavendish family?

  All right, then, let's see what the Encyclopedia Britannica has to say about me.

  When he finished reading, he sighed. He was happy enough with the conclusion: "he has gradually been accorded recognition as one of the greatest English political thinkers." Hobbes was less happy to discover that, "unfortunately, Hobbes antagonized both parties in the current constitutional struggle."

  The Encyclopedia Americana wasn't any more comforting: "he was suspected of atheism, and his attack upon ecclesiastical authority enraged both Anglicans and French Catholics… As late as 1683 Hobbes' books were publicly burned at Oxford."

  Perhaps it was time to do some job hunting in Magdeburg?

  Marcantonio's Pizza Parlor, Grantville

  July 1633

  John made the introductions as they walked over to the pizza parlor. "Here in Grantville, we tend to go by first names. I hope you don't mind. William, meet Gabrielle, Heather, Mi
llicent, Vicky, Judy, and Heather's brother Derrick, and sister Kelsey. They're all nice, except for my sister Gabrielle of course." She stuck out her tongue at him.

  "This is Marcantonio's. I hope you like their pizza."

  William watched the cook slide a giant metal spatula into a brick oven, and pull out a large round bread, covered with melted cheese and vegetables. "Is that the pizza?"

  John Ugolini frowned. "Yeah. Didn't you say you were just in Italy? How come you don't know what pizza is?"

  Gabrielle came to William's rescue. "John, you moron, we're in the seventeenth century, remember? The Italians haven't invented pizza yet. I thought everybody knew that."

  They were seated at a large round table. Which meant that William could see all of them at one time. His rescuer, Gabrielle, had the classic Mediterranean look: brown eyes, olive skin, and coffee brown hair. Her tennis partner, Heather, had matching hair and eyes, but pale skin. Millicent, Kelsey and Vicky were blondes, and Judy was a redhead. Auburn, not coppery. Height-wise, Millicent was tiny, and Vicky taller than the two guys present, John and Derrick. Geoffrey had been offered a seat, but declined. But he was happily munching on a slice of pizza at a small table nearby.

  Gabrielle nudged Heather. Heather said nothing.

  "So, William, what did you think of our game of tennis?" asked Gabrielle.

  "It was interesting to see how it differed from real tennis."

  Vicky challenged this statement. "So what do we play, 'pretend' tennis?"

  Gabrielle wasn't amused. "Oh, give him a break, Vicky."

  William put his hand over his heart, turned to Vicky, and inclined his head. "Forgive my poor choice of words, mademoiselle." The girls tittered. "I suppose we can call it 'royal tennis.'

  "Imagine putting half a cloister inside a high-walled building. A cloister's a garden, surrounded on all four sides by a roofed gallery.

  "There is a cord strung between two poles, to separate the two teams. The players have rackets, with which they hit the ball, back and forth, across the line.

  "The players make the game less predictable by serving the ball so that it bounces at least once on the penthouse to their left-"