Grantville Gazette, Volume XII Page 12

  "I've put together a farewell party with all types of meat, soup, and bread for us."

  Justus took off his broad-brimmed hat and waved it with a flourish. "No, no, dear lady Flo. Business attends. I must ride on ahead, for there are other contracts to arrange. I leave you in the capable hands of my brothers. They won't let you down, for they know what will happen if they do. Farewell!" And he galloped away.

  While watching Justus disappear, Flo had a brainstorm. She asked Flotsam and Jetsam, "Do either of you speak English?"

  Flotsam looked at Jetsam, and Jetsam looked at Flotsam. After a minute of mute consultation, Flotsam shook his head.

  "Nee."

  "But you do understand English?"

  After another consultation, they both slowly nodded, as if any suggestion of speed would cause a head to roll off.

  "Ja."

  Johan entered the conversation. "Konnen Sie deutsch?"

  "Nee."

  It soon came down to the fact that the only language between the two Dutch brothers was Dutch, whereas they appeared to understand most other languages—to some extent. Flo turned to J.D. "I've lost my appetite."

  J.D. patted her on the shoulder. "Remember, Rubens likes plump women. You don't want to be losing any weight."

  She punched him on the arm and marched into the house.

  * * *

  The following morning saw intense activity while everyone helped load the wagon—except Flotsam and Jetsam. They stood by and sadly watched the load increase and increase and increase. Food, clothing, blankets, dry wood, coal, coffee, soap, books, yarn, knitting needles, and sundry items were piled high into the wagon.

  Each of Flo's three daughters managed to speak to Flo alone.

  Kerry gave Flo a small package wrapped in brown paper. "You'll bless me for this."

  Turning the parcel this way and that, Flo asked, "What is it?"

  "A clean queen-sized sheet. You'll want to strip any bed in any inn and put this on. You won't believe the fleas."

  Flo laughed. "I'm sure it won't be necessary."

  Kerry asked, "Mom, are you going to pose in the nude?"

  "What ever gave you that idea?"

  "If you did, what would I tell my children? What would happen if they saw their grandmother naked?"

  Flo had to bite her tongue not to say that the children would hardly be scarred for life if that happened. Instead, she said, "I'm sure you can find something better to worry about. It's not going to happen."

  Later, Missy trapped Flo in the kitchen and handed her a box. "Ma, here's something you'll really need."

  The box was about the same size as the parcel. "Let me guess. It's a sheet."

  Missy was surprised. "Did you pack any? Even if you did, I'm sure you could use an extra."

  In the bedroom, Amy cornered and stared intently at Flo. "Mom, you're not going to pose naked, are you?"

  Overall, Flo was starting to get a bit insulted by that question. She freely admitted that she wasn't as thin as Anne Jefferson, but it wasn't like she was fat. And she certainly wasn't old. She laughed uneasily. "Good heavens, no, Amy. What ever gave you that idea?"

  "It's what the whole town is talking about. Everywhere you go, people are saying that Rubens wants you naked." Amy gave her mother a heavy package in a small backpack. "You'll need this. It's a revolver and a handful of bullets."

  "Are you telling me to shoot Rubens?"

  "Don't be silly, Mom. It's for the road. You don't know who'll you meet. And if you want to protect your virtue when you're being painted, that's okay too."

  Outside, J.D. was also receiving gifts from the men around the farm. His sons-in-law gave him a second shotgun in addition to J.D.'s own, muskets, and a variety of knives. Johan gave J.D. something particularly valuable: a large plastic tarp.

  "Do you think we're going to have picnics?" J.D. asked.

  "No. You will be in an open wagon and want some protection for when it rains."

  "But the tarp's red," J.D. complained.

  "So?"

  "Do you have anything in green?"

  Johan laughed and slapped J.D. on the back. "You need a vacation."

  Meanwhile, both men and women found time to talk to Flotsam and Jetsam. Each person promised that should anything untoward happen to either Flo or J.D., the Dutch brothers would lose their hands, fingernails, private parts, eyes, or whatever piece of anatomy the speaker preferred. Tone and body language supplemented the brothers' limited German and English. With each additional speaker, the two brothers looked sadder, more forlorn, and more crumpled.

  Early the next morning, Flotsam and Jetsam hitched the horses to the wagon and tied the saddle horses to the rear.

  By nine o'clock, J.D. had a pleased look on his face. He had arranged all their belongings in the wagon. "I guess that's about it. We're ready to go, and I've used up every square inch of space. How's that for packing?"

  Flo put her hands on her hips. "What about Brillo?"

  J.D.'s face sunk almost as low as that of the Dutch brothers. "You get the ram. I'll begin rearranging."

  Chuckling all the way to Brillo's pen, Flo never noticed the enormous grin on Johan's face as he followed her.

  "Brillo's gone!" Flo gasped.

  "Relax, Flo," Johan said. "I put him with the ewes for the night. I thought that might make him more manageable."

  "Good idea."

  The two of them found Brillo peacefully dozing among the ewes.

  Johan laughed. "He's in heaven."

  They pushed and prodded the sleepy ram all the way to the cart, in which J.D. had cleared a space for him.

  "It's not much room," J.D. admitted, "but there's bound to be more space as time goes by."

  Brillo blinked peacefully until J.D. and Johan swung him aboard. Then the ram was wide awake. His first baa was somewhat weak, but each succeeding baa gained in strength and terror.

  Everyone pretended to ignore the cries while Flo and J.D. were kissed and hugged. She and J.D. got into the back with Brillo, and Flo stood up and gave her farewell speech.

  "We'll go, we'll see, and we'll return."

  Everyone applauded, Flotsam shook the reins and clucked at the horses, and the wagon rolled away to various cheers and ever-louder baas.

  Flo closed her eyes. "However long this trip takes, it is going to be longer than I had imagined."

  That was at the end of August.

  * * *

  Three weeks, four sweaters, five caps, and seven scarves later, they were still in Germany. Flo had calluses on her knitting fingers, J.D. was working on a beer belly, and Flotsam and Jetsam were more ragged than ever.

  J.D. lifted a stein of beer. "It won't be long now."

  Flo was working on another sweater for J.D. "You mean when we reach the border?"

  "No, dear. When they serve dinner." He burped again.

  They were sitting by a table in a small inn a few miles west of Osnabrück. It wasn't the most desirable inn, but the weather was stormy, and neither of them looked forward to another day of being stuck between inns and sleeping in the open at night while it was raining.

  A fat man wearing torn clothes staggered over to them. He had a large knife stuck in his belt, a patch over an eye, greasy hair, and various scars. He was the innkeeper, and Flo didn't trust him.

  A young woman followed the innkeeper. She was somewhat better dressed and was carrying a large tray with bowls.

  The innkeeper spoke and understood English in terms of single words. "Dinner."

  Flo groaned. "Stew?" She thought of chunks of indigestible meat sunk at the bottom of a bowl that had a scum of fat floating on the top.

  The innkeeper smiled a terrible smile, exposing black teeth. "Mutton."

  She gave a little shriek and thought: Brillo! Jumping up, Flo ran outside the inn and into its stable on the side. There she saw one of the van Liede brothers leaning against a stall. He had a musket lying across his thighs and was staring blankly in the distance. Next to him, Brillo
was peacefully chewing his cud. A strange warmth descended over her, she was incredibly thankful, and she wanted to hug the two of them. Then she felt guilty that she didn't know whether it was Flotsam or Jetsam guarding her ram. The two might have been identical twins.

  "Hello," she said somewhat shyly.

  "Goedenavond."

  "Excuse me, but are you Flotsam or Jetsam?"

  "Jetsam."

  The indignity of calling these two men after the debris of the ocean occurred to her, and Flo tried to apologize.

  The corners of his mouth turned upward. It might have been a smile. " Nee, nee. Het Geeft niet." Then he thought about it some more. "Good name."

  "Would you like to learn to speak English? It would help to pass the time on the road."

  Jetsam nodded.

  Where do I begin, she wondered. Flo pointed to her nose. "Nose." Jetsam repeated after her. After Flo ran through her face, she started on her body and worked down to her thighs.

  Jetsam put his hand on her thigh and smiled in earnest. "Thigh!"

  Flo recognized the look of the predatory male and hastily stood up. "I think we've had enough English for one night."

  Going back inside the dark inn, she sat down by her table. "J.D., you won't believe what happened. J.D.?" As soon as her eyes acclimated to the numerous people milling around, she saw that the serving girl was sitting on J.D.'s lap. His right hand held a tankard and his left hand was inside her blouse.

  Looking at her with bleary eyes, J.D. burped. "Strong ale."

  Flo said pointedly, "I don't know about the ale, but maybe you should take it easy on the milk."

  The girl removed J.D.'s hand, curtsied, and, laughing, left the table. J.D. said, "I think she'd like to come to Amsterdam with us."

  "Really?" Her voice dripped sarcasm.

  What began as a nod ended in a plummet, and J.D.'s head rested on the table. Flo finished her cold meal in silence.

  * * *

  Three days later, in the bedroom at another nameless inn on the nameless road, J.D. complained, "I don't know why you aren't talking to me. It happens. I was drunk. I thought she was you."

  Flo stripped the bed and put one of the travel sheets over it. "She was taller than me, had blond hair, a squint in one eye, and warts. So how in all hell did she look like me?"

  J.D. began undressing. "She had your boobs."

  After putting a top sheet over the spread one, Flo critically inspected the blankets for lice and fleas. "Maybe you shouldn't have mentioned her boobs. Maybe I was ready to forget."

  "Honestly, Flo. You've a great body. I can see why Rubens would want to paint you naked. I mean, you'd be the naked one. Rubens would have his clothes on. Well, he better have his clothes on."

  Flo warmed to him. "You think so?"

  Nodding vigorously, J.D. got under the covers. "Let me show you."

  She got into bed next to him. "I don't know, J.D. You're the only man who's ever seen me naked—if you don't count doctors. I don't know if I could do it even if I wanted to do it. What's that hand doing? Hmm." And the time for conversation rapidly slipped away.

  * * *

  By the end of September they had almost reached the border between the Netherlands and Germany. The problem involved a fork in the road and one of those rare occasions when there was no other traffic. J.D. and Jetsam had taken the saddle horses to explore the forks, as well as to buy some bread and other provisions. Flotsam was snoring in the wagon, and Flo was sitting on the driver's seat and stitching a ram needlepoint. She had drawn the design at home, and this was the first opportunity she had to finish it. Brillo was tethered nearby to a tree and was nibbling in the high meadow.

  Half-dozing in the sunlight, Flo became aware of the large wagon drawn by a team of four horses when it drew near. She immediately recognized it as an up-time conveyance not only by the driver having a seat in the front but also by the "We Love Feet" logo and the "Eisenhauer Shoe Company" lettering on the side.

  Flo waved to the driver. "Hello!"

  The driver reined his horses to a stop. "Gutten Tag." He took in her appearance and wagon. "You are an American."

  "Yes, and are you ever a sight for sore eyes."

  "Do your eyes hurt?"

  "No." Flo reminded herself to avoid being literal with down-timers. "I meant that I didn't know that Eisenhauer had expanded this far so soon."

  "Ja, Herr Eisenhauer's shoes are very popular. We will be branching into the Netherlands next year. Why wear wood clogs when you can have leather boots at the same price?" He jumped off his wagon. "I'm Siegbert Zuckertort, but everyone calls me Ziggy."

  She got down and offered her hand. "I'm Flo Richards, and I wouldn't mind another pair of shoes."

  They shook hands.

  "I'm sorry, but I've delivered all the shoes. You see, I'm taking hides back for more shoes." He smiled. "We don't want any wasted trips, and Herr Eisenhauer insists on a full load in both directions. But I have a catalog. Perhaps you would like to order something?"

  "Another time maybe. When I'm back in Grantville."

  "Flo Richards, Flo Richards," he murmured. "Yes, I know you. You're the one with Brillo the Ram. You're famous. He's famous! I have seen the video Bad, Bad Brillo."

  "Really? How did you like his performance?"

  "Brillo is one hundred percent ram. So what are you doing here? Where are you going? And who is looking after Brillo while you are away?"

  "We're going to Amsterdam, and Brillo is right over here . . ." Turning, she pointed to where she had Brillo tethered.

  He wasn't there.

  Looking in the distance, Flo saw three men leading Brillo away. "My God! They're stealing Brillo!"

  Ziggy reached into his wagon. "You're lucky that they haven't killed you." He pulled out a heavy cudgel and charged the thieves. Flo took her wagon at a leap and began looking in all the green backpacks for the one that had the revolver. Finding the gun, she jumped down and started running. She prayed the gun was loaded.

  One of the thieves threw a rock at Ziggy. He missed, and then he was on them and hit the first bandit on the neck. The bandit crumpled, but the other two used their clubs and soon had Ziggy on the ground.

  By that time, Flo was close enough. Standing in her stocking feet, at only around five foot one, she wasn't particularly tall even by seventeenth-century standards. Flo was also a tad on the plump side and not accustomed to running. For this occasion, however, she had no trouble screaming curses while racing at full speed. It was enough to make the two bandits hesitate. When she began firing the revolver in the air, they decided that they had had enough for one day and ran away. The third managed to get up and didn't do too bad a job in keeping up with his fellow thieves.

  Panting, Flo helped Ziggy to his feet. "Are you okay?"

  He was bleeding from a head wound and seemed a little woozy. "I have had better days."

  Facing Brillo, Flo asked, "What's the idea, you big goof? You baa your head off day in and day out, but when three strangers sneak over, untie you, and lead you away, and you don't make a peep. What do you have to say for yourself?"

  "Baa!"

  Flo laughed. "I think he's gotten over his trauma of being ramnapped. I'm not sure about myself though. I could use a cup of coffee. Would you like to join me?"

  "Ah, coffee! But of course!"

  Half leading and half dragging Brillo, Flo walked alongside of Ziggy back to their wagons.

  "You saved Brillo."

  Ziggy laughed. "You saved Brillo. I performed a delaying tactic." He shook his head. "I have had enough of soldiering and prefer a quiet life. Deliver shoes and buy hides. That's a good life. I have already earned enough for a roomy cottage outside Bamberg. It has been two months since I have been home, and I look forward to seeing my wife and children." He sighed. "I miss them."

  By the wagon, Ziggy nodded toward Flotsam. "I wonder how he managed to sleep through it all."

  Flo sniffed. Flotsam's state of unconsciousness was due to schnaps. "
Yes, he's a great bodyguard." She bound Ziggy's wound.

  "Thank you, Flo. You are kind."

  "That's nothing. Let's see if this sweater fits you. That's the least I can do for a friend of Brillo."

  When J.D. returned later that afternoon, looking rather beat, he scowled at the picnic that Flo had set up for Flotsam and Ziggy. "I wish I could spend all my time eating and chatting."

  Flo laughed. "Stop grouching. If you brought back any cheese or fresh bread, I'll let you enjoy the last of our coffee supply."

  * * *

  On a bright day in early October, Flotsam reined the wagon over to the side of the road. Approaching them was a sea of wool, a flock of sheep led by a young blonde girl of about twelve. She smiled and waved her shepherd's crook, in thanks to the travelers standing aside.

  Flo waved back to the girl. To J.D.: "Look how those ewes follow her. We should be so lucky back home."

  J.D. nodded toward Brillo. "He's beginning to become restless."

  Tied to the wagon, Brillo was pulling and straining at his tether.

  "Relax, J.D. Brillo can't get away. I know how to tie a good knot."

  "Was it a slipknot by any chance?"

  Breaking free, Brillo charged into the middle of the sheep. Following him were Flo, J.D., and Jetsam. Flotsam was analyzing the situation throughout somewhat bloodshot eyes.

  From the rear of the flock, a middle-aged farmer joined the pursuit. He seemed very upset and was talking nonstop.

  While Flo and J.D. held Brillo, who was baaing for all he was worth, Jetsam explained in broken English and gesture that the farmer was taking his ewes to a different pasture. He was also a bit that the spring lambs would look like Brillo.

  "Brillo didn't do anything!" Flo declared. She kept a tight grip around Brillo's neck.

  J.D. had a less ambitious hold around Brillo's middle. "Not yet."

  The farmer did a Moses act, parting the ewes and giving Brillo plenty of clearance. However, one particularly cute ewe was more than ready to respond to Brillo's advances. The ewe began running around them and avoiding the farmer's best attempts to have her move with the other sheep.

  While the ewe ran her circles, Brillo dragged Flo and J.D. after him.