Grantville Gazette VI Read online

  He didn't expect too much trouble. They were well within the USE, and the chances of encountering enemy raiders were slim. It was somewhat more likely they might come across bandits, but Corporal Linn was confident they had enough firepower to deal with robbers. Each of them carried a Struve-Reardon flintlock rifle and a flintlock pistol sidearm, per regulations. In addition to his general-issue weapons, Sergeant McDougal carried a .22 semiautomatic rifle, his own personal firearm.

  "I know a .22 doesn't have a lot of stopping power, but I've been using it for a few years now. Since before the Ring of Fire," the young sergeant had explained. The three of them had been cleaning their weapons one night.

  "Why prefer it to the flintlock if it's not as powerful?" Dietrich wanted to know.

  "Part of it is rate of fire. This can put a lot of lead in the air in hurry if I need it to. But it's mostly because I can't shoot nearly as well with the flintlock."

  "Why not?" asked the Swedish girl, Svetlana. Dietrich looked at her. He found her to be very pretty—she reminded him a little of his mother in looks. But she'd shown not the least bit of interest in him.

  Sergeant McDougal grinned ruefully. "The SRG is a great gun, but my problem is the priming pan. It flashes right at the edge of my field of vision and causes me to jerk the gun the instant before it fires. Half the time I'm lucky if I can hit the broad side of a barn."

  Dietrich nodded. Despite the fact that McDougal outranked him, the Marine corporal had at first looked down on someone who served in a noncombat role—a REMF, as his up-time Marine comrades put it. But during this trip he'd come to respect Sergeant McDougal. He had good instincts, as proved by the fact he used his up-time rifle. Dietrich knew that Sergeant McDougal's problems with the flintlock rifle wouldn't have been a consideration if he were in a line, firing in volley. But if the three of them got into a firefight with bandits, accuracy would count for far more.

  The three of them passed some more time in conversation. Every attempt Dietrich made to get Private Anderovna interested in him was politely rebuffed. He decided to cut his losses and go to bed. Maybe next time, if she had more to drink, he'd have better luck.

  * * *

  Svetlana stayed in the common room with Jabe after Corporal Linn went to bed. She was used to her sergeant's reticence, but he'd been even quieter than usual lately. His explanation to Corporal Linn regarding his rifle was the most he'd said in days. She'd gotten to know Jabe well enough over the past couple of months to know something was bothering him.

  "You've been quiet the whole trip so far," she said.

  Jabe smiled a somewhat strained smile. "I just haven't had much worth saying."

  "Something's wrong. I'm happy to listen."

  Jabe sighed. He signaled to a serving woman for a tankard of beer; Sveta declined his offer to buy her one.

  "What makes you think something's wrong?"

  Sveta just looked at him, saying nothing. Jabe muttered something she didn't quite catch, involving the letter "x" and a longer word—"chromo" something.

  "It's just that Prudentia and I had a big fight before we left Grantville. She didn't want me coming to Luebeck. It seems like we've been fighting a lot lately."

  Svetlana tried her hardest to be properly sympathetic. She was sorry Jabe was in distress, but it did not sadden her in the least to hear that he and Prudentia were having problems. It made her hopeful, and she tried her absolute hardest not to let that hope show.

  Anders Jensen had not been a terrible father, but the fact was he had not legitimized her. Nor would he, which is why Svetlana had adopted her Russian-style patronymic, "Anderovna," as her surname, dropping her mother's family name. She was Anders's daughter, whether or not he chose to officially acknowledge her. There would be no dowry for her unless she earned it herself. Almost everywhere this would have severely limited her marriage prospects. Her father expected to be consulted if she decided to marry, of course, but probably wouldn't care enough to make any objections to almost any prospective husband she might find.

  In Grantville, though, her marriage prospects would not necessarily be limited by her bastardy or lack of a dowry. People there were judged on their merits. Gretchen Richter was a camp follower, and she married a respectable up-timer. Not only did Gretchen not have a dowry, she also had a lot of dependents. And Sveta knew Gretchen was not the only woman of her station to make such a match, just the most famous. It went both ways; after all, hadn't her hero, Julie Sims, been allowed marry a man who was—like Sveta—illegitimate? Granted, Alex Mackay was well-regarded by no less a figure than Gustavus Adolphus, but he was a soldier and Julie was the daughter of a respected town professional. And yet no one had raised any objections to the match.

  Svetlana was beginning to feel, more and more strongly, that the young man sitting in front of the fire with her would make an excellent husband. Prudentia Gentileschi was, in her opinion, stuck-up and spoiled. What did an artist's daughter have in common with Jabe, anyway? Svetlana knew that she was far more suitable a wife for Jabe McDougal than Prudentia Gentileschi.

  Luebeck, Late winter, 1634

  For Jabe, getting smuggled into Luebeck was an anticlimax. The siege was tight enough—movement into and out of the city was very restricted by the League of Ostend—but there were more than a few cracks to slip through. The mysterious (to the Danes at least) destruction of a half-dozen ships in the Truve River estuary had made them nervous and forced them to loosen their grip on the port at least somewhat—loosened enough so that it was possible to smuggle small amounts of supplies into the city.

  People could also be smuggled. Jabe, Svetlana and Corporal Linn were conducted into Luebeck one dark, cloudy night and shown to quarters in the city. Sergeant Elizabeth Buchholtz, of the Thuringian Rifles, took charge of Sveta. The two women had met when Sveta had tried to get into the sniper company. Jabe and the German Marine were quartered with a friendly merchant family eager for news and gossip from outside Luebeck. Jabe, though tired, was willing enough to oblige as a way of thanking his hosts for the food and hot bath they provided.

  Jabe had a hard time getting to sleep that night. The last few days he'd found himself confiding in Svetlana more and more, especially when it came to the problems he'd been having with Prudentia. Jabe had always been someone who preferred a handful of close friends to a large circle of acquaintances, but most of his high school friends were scattering, drawn into the military or the world of possibilities offered for up-timers in the rest of the USE. He considered Kurt a good friend as well as a CO, and Sveta had been especially friendly and interested in his problems.

  There was a part of Jabe—a small part—that wondered if Svetlana Anderovna weren't more "right" for him than Prudentia Gentileschi. There were times when he wondered what he and Prudentia were doing together.

  Whenever his thoughts began traveling down this path, Jabe began to wonder what his life would be like if Prudentia weren't in it. Invariably, he felt a tightness in his chest and a sharp pain began somewhere near his feet and corkscrewed up through him. On paper the son of a coal miner and the daughter of an important painter had no business being together. On paper, Jabe thought he and Svetlana made far more sense.

  But Svetlana didn't make him feel that he could do anything he put his mind to. Jabe thought of a recent selection for the "Dinner and a Movie" club: As Good As It Gets. Prudentia made Jabe want to be a better person; he didn't have that feeling about Svetlana, or any other woman for that matter. Still, it was good to have someone he could exchange confidences with, and he felt he needed a woman's perspective on things. As he finally drifted off to sleep, Jabe tried to ignore the nagging feeling that he shouldn't be confiding these sorts of things to another woman.

  * * *

  One of the emperor's junior adjutants came to get Jabe the next morning. The weedy young Swedish lieutenant struck Jabe as very high-strung. Maybe he was one of those people who needed tension to keep him together. As the two made their way toward Gustavus' hea
dquarters, Jabe laid out his plans for his brief stay in Luebeck. He started to speak in German, but the young officer said he wanted to practice his English, so they used that language instead.

  "I'm not worried about working around His Majesty's schedule, sir," Jabe told the adjutant. "I'm happy to take as much time as he can give me. And I'm also hoping to speak with some of the grunts and get their view of things."

  "Grunts?"

  "Sorry, sir. That's a slang term from up-time. It means the ordinary soldiers, the privates and low-ranking noncoms."

  "Grunts." The Swede repeated the word as if tasting it. He smiled. "I rather like it. It has a sort of rough charm. How good is your German, Sergeant McDougal? His Majesty's English has improved a great deal in the last year or so, but it is far from his best language."

  "I think my German's pretty decent, sir. I hope so anyway. Private Anderovna is a native Swedish speaker, so she can help me over the rough spots, if that's okay."

  "I'm sure it will be."

  They spent the rest of the journey through town going over protocol. Gustavus was far less touchy about such things than most monarchs, but there were still proprieties to be observed. Jabe didn't think he'd have any problems; his big fear was that he'd be so nervous in the emperor's presence that he'd be paralyzed.

  * * *

  Svetlana watched Jabe work. There wasn't much for her to do at the moment. Most of those present could communicate in German if not English, so aside from the occasional rough patch, Sveta wasn't needed as a translator.

  The first task had been to find a well-lit room in which to tape His Majesty. Jabe explained that, while his camera had a built-in lamp, it would drain the battery relatively quickly. Once the battery was drained, the camera would not function without another source of power. Therefore, it was best to find a natural light source so that the quality of the picture would be as good as possible.

  Svetlana was amazed that Jabe, normally so quiet, could be so assertive. Once a suitable room had been found, he sat the emperor down and began setting up his camera. Gustavus rehearsed his planned speech a couple of times, and then Jabe clipped a small device—a microphone—onto the royal personage. He connected the other end to his camera.

  "I am told you have an excellent speaking voice, Your Majesty," Jabe said to Gustavus. "With this device, the microphone, you won't need to speak so loudly. In fact, if you speak too loudly, you may accidentally damage the equipment."

  Gustavus understood, and they were ready to tape. The Emperor of the United States of Europe may not have grown up with television, but his magnetic personality and larger-than-life presence made him a natural in front of a camera. Svetlana had always been proud of her king, but for the first time in her life she understood why so many were willing to follow Gustav II Adolph Vasa even to their deaths.

  When the emperor concluded his remarks, about a half-hour later, Jabe smiled.

  "Nailed it on the first take, Your Majesty."

  Gustavus' pale blue eyes twinkled. "That means, I trust, that I did well, Sergeant?"

  Answering that question led to an explanation of what "take" meant, which in turn led to a brief explanation of the editing process. "Most people get nervous on camera, Your Majesty. They just seize up or make a lot of mistakes. You were very relaxed and natural. It's always possible to do things over and get them right, but for something like this I think it's best if you can get it right the first time. Which you did, Your Majesty."

  Jabe was breaking down the tripod and stowing the little equipment he'd had to bring with him. Gustavus walked over and picked up the small camera, examining it closely. In the emperor's outsized hands, it almost fit in one palm.

  "It does not seem such a fearsome thing to me, Sergeant. Far less fearsome, in truth, than Axel Oxenstierna."

  Grantville, Late winter, 1634

  Prudentia sipped her coffee, looking around at the Sternbock Coffee House. There was all manner of graffiti on the whitewashed wall; the cafe's proprietor, a distant Nasi cousin named Theophilus Mendes, encouraged writing on his walls. Someone had told him about an eatery in the up-time city of Chicago that did the same thing, and Theophilus liked the idea. It had helped cement the Sternbock's reputation as the main artists' cafe in Grantville.

  With her sat a Bohemian named Karel Novotny and Tino Nobili's oldest son, Burton. Burton was there at Prudentia's request; she did not meet strange men alone, even in public.

  Novotny had braved muddy roads to make an exploratory trip to Grantville from Prague on behalf of Morris Roth. Prudentia knew of the Cavriani family, who were professional "middlemen." Novotny was cast from the same mold. He seemed friendly enough, but there was something about him that was slightly off-putting. She was glad Burton was there with her. Prudentia handed him the various sketches she'd made for the frontispieces.

  The Bohemian examined the sketches critically. "Excellent work, Signora Gentileschi—or is it Stiattesi?"

  Prudentia was a little surprised. Most people didn't know her father's family name unless she told them. Her estimation of Novotny's abilities went up for finding out that little detail, even as she felt a little uncomfortable.

  "My mother is officially the head of my household, Signor Novotny; so I go by Gentileschi. And thank you for your kind compliment. You may keep the sketches to take back to Don Morris; they're copies."

  The Bohemian handed Prudentia a draft for USE$3,000, half the agreed-upon price for the work. "Per your agreement with Don Morris. I will be returning this summer for the completed work, at which time you will receive the balance of the commission."

  "Very good," said Prudentia. She tucked the bank draft into the pocket of her dress. "Thank you, Signor Novotny."

  Novotny, however, wasn't finished. "Don Morris has spoken well of your work. Apparently, he commissioned you previously, before he moved to Prague?"

  "Well, it was a very small commission. I designed a logo for his personal seal."

  "Be that as it may, Don Morris instructed me to extend an offer to you."

  "I'd be happy to work for him again."

  "Not to work," said Novotny. "To come to Prague. He wants to you to be an artist in residence at the Women's College of his new university."

  * * *

  Even as she walked to the bank to deposit her draft, Prudentia had to keep replaying what Karel Novotny had just told her over and over in her head, just to make sure she hadn't imagined it. It was a tremendous opportunity. And yet . . .

  If this offer had come to her just a few weeks ago, before Jabe left for Luebeck, she would have turned it down flat—unless Jabe agreed to come to Prague with her after his military commitment was fulfilled. She couldn't imagine not having Jabe at her side, for this or anything else.

  Now, though, she was sure that Jabe wouldn't ask for her hand. Ever since his departure for Luebeck, Prudentia had become increasingly certain that Svetlana Anderovna would replace her in his affections. She didn't like to think about it; the last few weeks she'd thrown herself into her art as she never had before. At least when she was painting or sketching, her mind was occupied with other things, better things. Besides, on a blank canvas or sheet of paper, she could make the world into whatever she wanted.

  In her dark state of mind, Prudentia saw Morris Roth's offer not as a career opportunity but as a way out. If she were in Prague, Prudentia thought, she would not have to see Jabe and Svetlana together. She would have to get her mother's approval, but she didn't think Artemisia would object. It would take a little time for her to write to Rome and get word back, but Signor Novotny had told her she didn't need to decide until this summer, when he came back from Bohemia for the completed frontispieces. There was no reason, however, that she couldn't tell Jabe of her plans when he got back from Luebeck.

  On the Road, Late winter, 1634

  In spite of all the dangers, the trip to Luebeck had been exhilarating to Jabe. He truly felt that he had done something that would lift people's spirits. Not to menti
on the fact that he had gotten to meet, even talk with, the emperor himself!

  He was in Luebeck for a week all told, and Gustavus had invited him to dinner—something Jabe knew was a tremendous honor for someone of his rank. Gustavus, as he usually was about up-time technology, was curious about video. Jabe was happy enough to share what he knew, though he pointed out that he was hardly the most knowledgeable up-timer when it came to film and television.

  Jabe mentioned to the emperor in passing about his oral history. To his great surprise, on the morning of his departure from Luebeck, a young boy delivered a sheaf of papers to him. Written in German in a strong, sure hand were the reflections of Emperor Gustav II Adolph Vasa about the Ring of Fire; in his case, his thoughts when he first heard about Grantville's arrival and his memories of his first meeting with Rebecca Stearns, Ed Piazza and especially Julie Sims. This alone would make sure that Jabe's book, when it was finished, would move at least a few copies.