Grantville Gazette 43 Read online

  "Yes! I am Harmannus de Kloet of South Gelderland, and this is my wife, Lijss. This oaf is Piet, my younger brother." He motioned toward the watchman who stood nearby, wearing an embarrassed expression. "These are our family and friends, who traveled with us to find a better life in the Far East. We were bound for the Dutch colony at Ambon, in the Molucca Isles, when our ship was badly damaged in a storm last year. We were able to land here, but few repairs could be done. The sailors decided to continue on despite the danger, but we stayed; a pleasant enough place, and preferable to being lost at sea."

  Pam nodded, she had guessed correctly. It's strange though, according to the history books, there were no permanent Dutch settlements on Mauritius until decades later. In the old time-line there would have been no French pirates, and their little colony should have survived. Pam pushed the thought aside. The flutter of butterfly wings could unravel the destinies of kings and commoners. She focused on the business at hand.

  "I think you made a wise choice, Harmannus. Please, allow me to properly introduce myself." Pam stood up a little straighter, throwing her shoulders back. She had learned that it was usually best to let the men of this century know that you were a female somebody as soon, and as clearly as possible.

  "I am Pam Miller. Captain Pam Miller, leader of Princess Kristina Wasa's Royal Swedish Science and Colonization Expedition. I was kidnapped by some French pirates still at large, and escaped, but they are still chasing me!"

  The couple blinked at her. She realized she had spoken a bit too rapidly, and they probably hadn't understood much of what she had said. She suddenly felt dizzy. Pam urgently wanted to say more, to warn them of the immediate danger, but the pounding in the back of her head grew too loud. She stumbled forward, losing her voice and her balance. Harmannus and Lijss were able to catch her, guiding her to a nearby log.

  "Look, Harmannus, she is injured! Here on her head!" Lijss sat down beside Pam, and gently pulled her close, cradling her so she wouldn't fall. Lijss spoke a command in her native tongue. A middle-aged woman hurried over, bringing Pam a skin of cool, water-thinned wine. Pam drank greedily, trying to wash away the blackness threatening to envelop her. She gratefully leaned against the kindly older woman, calming down as the pounding receded, and her vision began to clear.

  She thought her injury had healed somewhat, but if she kept pushing herself to her physical limits she might make it worse. She had to end this chase, and she had to do it today. She thanked Lijss, then stood up carefully as the Dutch watched with concerned eyes. Pam smiled at them, but her thoughts were grim. I've now put these people in danger. There are only two pirates left, but they're still very dangerous. We'll have to beat them with cleverness, not brute strength. She began to walk around the camp, studying it for any advantage.

  The central gathering place was a clearing with logs arranged as seats around a fire-pit. The surrounding forest was fairly open, the underbrush not providing much cover. Primitive shelters had been constructed, and a brush fence contained the small herd of cows and sheep. Chickens cackled in a cage of woven reeds. They were on high ground, a good thirty feet above the river, a narrow trail led down through the trees to its banks. There was no doubt her pursuers would notice it, muddy footprints spanned its length. Pam sighed. The camp was indefensible. She turned to Harmannus and Lijss.

  "I am being chased by two very dangerous French brigands! They were following me down the river, and could arrive here at any time. I can't run any more, I need to stay and fight. You and your people should leave now, quickly, and go hide further off in the woods while I distract them! They will hurt anyone if it pleases them, you must avoid them at all cost! Do you understand me?"

  The couple nodded solemnly. Harmannus said "We knew our enemies might return, and have made some small preparations." He barked orders at the people gathered around. The youngest and oldest women, led by Lijss, gathered the children, and hustled them off into the woods in remarkably short order. The old men and the middle-aged women stayed, determined looks on their faces. Piet passed out pitchforks and shovels to serve as weapons. Harmannus smiled at them, visibly proud.

  "We are not cowards. We will stand with you. These murderers owe us a debt of blood. We have lost sons and husbands, and will fight to the death if need be."

  Pam feared for the lives of these castaway farmers just as she had for her own colonists. They were no warriors, just normal people in terrible circumstances, fighting for their lives. Just like me. But if it wasn't for me, they wouldn't be faced with this. Pam Miller, Bringer of Doom. She didn't have time for self-loathing just now, she could do that later, if there was a later. Her hand moved to the hilt of the large knife at her side. Grasping it, she felt a swell of wrath. I am Captain Pam Miller. I am not a victim. I have led people into battle before, and will do it again today! She cast her eyes around the camp again for any final advantage. That was when she noticed the fishing net drying on a branch, and remembered the trapping techniques Gerbald had taught her. "Capture your prey in a snare, then kill it with swift mercy from a position of safety," he had told her. Pam smiled.

  "Harmannus! Help me with this net! Have someone watch the river." Harmannus was the leader of his little tribe, but there was a steel in Pam's voice that must have rung true in his ears, as he didn't question her commands. He translated Pam's orders, and helped her organize the net and its ropes. When he gave her a questioning look, Pam told him her plan.

  "We are going to make a trap for those beasts! We might not have much time, but we have to try, it's the only advantage I can think of."

  Despite their rush, the process felt agonizingly slow. Harmannus had to translate her every order, and their understanding of each other's dialects was less than perfect. Even so, they were determined, and as was always the case when faced with a language barrier, a healthy dose of mime and hand gestures helped greatly.

  There was only one net, and luckily it was large and in good repair. Pam decided to place it across the narrow trail, counting on them to approach from the river. To ensure this, she intended to provide some incentive. They threw ropes over sturdy tree branches, and spread the net, carefully hiding it under mud and dead leaves. The Dutch divided into four teams hidden in the brush on either side, ready to pull the net up. Once ensnared, they would haul their catch a short distance off the ground, where they would swing helplessly. Pam made sure Harmannus understood her instructions.

  "Good luck, Pam!" he told her, grasping her hand.

  "You, too Harmannus. If it goes wrong, think of your people first. Run!"

  Harmannus chuckled. "It's plain you are no stranger to battle, but you underestimate us! We farmers are tough, and have faced many dangers." He let her hand loose, then gave her a gentle, fatherly push. Pam flashed him a confident smile, and hurried down the trail. She soon found the woman they had sent to stand watch, who wasn't very well hidden at all, and sent her back to Harmannus.

  Taking a deep breath, Pam stepped out of the shade onto the sandy beach. The river was wide here, and fairly shallow, an easy enough wade. The far bank had lost its hedge of thorns, open meadows spread beyond. Pam smelled salt in the air, the sea was close. There was no one in sight, but she had a feeling they would have company soon.

  There were reeds here, and it occurred to her that this would be a good place to leave a clue for Gerbald, something she hadn't thought of in all her rush. She took several of the tallest reeds growing near the path, and twisted them into a loose braid. Most people would never notice, even standing next to it, but to Gerbald it would be a neon sign even from the far shore, another of his traditional hunter's signals. If their attempt to capture the brigands went awry, help might still come. Satisfied with her work, Pam sat down on the sand in plain sight, the late afternoon sun feeling good on her tanned skin. Nothing to do but wait. She thought of her and Dore's harlot dance, so long ago it seemed now, and laughed. If a ruse worked once, might as well use it again. She hoped the pirates of the Indian Ocean weren't keep
ing track. It was time to play the bait again.

  An hour passed by. She hoped her Dutch allies would stay in position, even the most determined people could grow tired of a dull wait. Pam doodled in the sand with a twig, always keeping one eye out for visitors. She drew a big, puffy heart enclosing her initials, PGM. Feeling a bit silly, and a bit sad, she added a plus sign, and a large letter T.

  "Just in case we don't meet again, here's a message for you, Torbjörn. I wish there had been more time." Pam looked away from her creation, forcing a wave of regret back. No time for that now. We need Pam the killer, not the lover. Something moved across the river. Pam watched from the corner of her eye. Two unpleasantly familiar forms marched relentlessly along the shore. She pretended not to notice them. Here we go! She drooped her head and swayed a little, doing her best to look as if she had succumbed to exhaustion and her injuries.

  Her enemies noticed her soon enough. They crouched behind a shrub, gesturing furtively as they conferred. One loaded a blunderbuss, but the other, whom she recognized as the leader, stopped him from firing. He wanted to take her alive. Grinning smugly, they began to wade across the river. They went slowly, trying to draw close without being noticed. Pam stayed slumped over, watching them from behind the locks of unruly hair falling from her forehead. She stifled a wicked smile. To her amazement, she was more excited than afraid. It was time to lead the sharks into her net. Pam waited until they were about halfway across before looking up.

  "Oh, no! Not you! Villains!" she cried out in prissy, pathetic tones "Alas, whatever shall I do? Help, help! All is lost!" Her pursuers flashed nasty smiles at her, and began to wade faster. The subjects are moving quickly and over-confidently, excellent. She pretended to have trouble standing up, which made them laugh aloud cruelly.

  "Oh, no, the ruffians draw closer! I must flee!" Her corny Perils of Pauline routine was working perfectly.

  They were almost to the beach, so she stepped up her speed, making a beeline for the narrow path. They ran full tilt at her now, but Pam was swifter, leaving them well behind, but within sight.

  "Surely they will undo my bodice and have their way, oh the shame!" She continued this monologue all the way up the trail, the plaintive tone of her voice adding fuel to her pursuer's desire to capture her. She looked back long enough to show them a terrified face, all the better to distract them with. Once she had passed over the net, she pretended to stumble, feigning an injury. Limping, she turned back again, watching carefully as her prey neared the net. Almost there, almost . . . THERE!

  "FISH!" Pam shouted. The word happened to be the same in German, Dutch and English, a most fitting choice for the signal. To Pam's delight, the net rose into the air under the surprised thugs, making them stumble and fall. The net continued to rise, constricting around them as it took their weight, then lifting the struggling pair completely off the ground, to a height of about four feet.

  "Good!" she called out to her allies. "Tie them off, Harmannus!" Pam rose up straight and proud, placed her hands on her hips, and let out a long, loud laugh. At last, the tables were turned, her former captors captured.

  "How do ya like them apples, Francis?" she sneered at the helplessly wriggling pair. "I keep telling you, don't fuck with Captain Pam!" She laughed again, making sure they saw how much she was enjoying their predicament. They growled menacingly as they struggled to break free, but were held fast in her web. Pam exalted, not sure if it was her head injury or the thrill of victory that made her feel a bit dizzy, probably both. She was joined by Harmannus, who was breathing a bit hard, but sharing her triumphant grin. The rest of their band gathered nearby, aiming their pitchforks and shovels menacingly toward the trapped men.

  "We did it!" Pam said, turning to Harmannus. "You all did a great job!"

  "Thank you, Pam! We greatly admire your cleverness, and have seen you are very brave."

  "Aww, shucks, 'tweren't nuthin'." she slipped into her childhood West Virginia drawl, blushed, and switched back to German, "I'm just glad everyone's safe. These bastards would have made some real trouble if we hadn't caught them like a couple of mackerel."

  "Should we kill them or keep them alive?" Harmannus asked her in a coolly pragmatic tone.

  "Well, I'd like to cut them up for bait and use them to catch something we can actually eat, but I guess we should wait until my people arrive. Meanwhile, we'll just let them hang out to dry." Her ear caught one of the women letting out a gasp.

  Pam turned quickly to see that the lead brigand had managed to squirm his way around enough to get his hands on his companion's loaded blunderbuss, and was now raising it toward them, intending to fire through the net. Pam pushed Harmannus aside, and leaped toward their would-be murderer. Her trophy knife found its way into her hand, and she raised it, feeling its deadly weight add some quantum of speed to her momentum. Her eyes locked with the man who had caused her so much pain, invisible lightning bolts of hatred arcing between them. He lifted his weapon toward her with a low, murderous, growl as his finger tightened on the trigger. Pam shrieked a primitive war cry as she thrust the knife into his right eye, all the way to the hilt. Blood spurted, spraying them both with brilliant scarlet. His finger went limp, and the muzzle slumped toward the ground. Pam kept her gaze locked on her enemy's remaining eye as he died, making sure the last thing he saw was her blood-spattered, grinning face.

  "That makes you Number Ten." she told him as his last breath spewed out with a wet rattle. Pam tried to pull the knife back out, but it was stuck, its tip lodged in the back of the skull. She left it there for the time being, and turned back to the gathered Dutch. They were all staring at her with mouths agape, faces pale. They were afraid of her, and she found that she really didn't mind. She carefully untangled the blunderbuss from the net, and placed its muzzle in the face of her last kidnapper, which was pressed uncomfortably against the net.

  "You wanna be Eleven?" she asked him. He may not have understood her words, but he certainly got the meaning.

  "No! No, no, no!" he pleaded, then his eyes rolled back in his head, and he fainted. Pam smiled.

  She walked over to Harmannus and gave him the blunderbuss, which he grasped with a slight tremble in his hands.

  "Shoot him if he tries to escape. I need to go wash up. Do you have anything to eat? I'm starved."

  Harmannus smiled at her with cautious admiration. "Anything you want, my friend, anything you want!"

  Pam clapped him companionably on the shoulder, then ambled back down to the river. She waded in to its deepest part, then sat down on the smooth-pebbled bottom, letting the familiar slow current wash away the blood and sweat of her triumph. She had survived, she had adapted, and she had, once again, evolved into something more powerful than she had ever been before.

  Chapter Sixty-two: Happy Campers

  Pam sat comfortably on a wide log beside the blazing campfire, gorging herself on bread, cheese and salted meat. It might not be the best bread and salted meat she had ever had, but it tasted like heaven. As for the cheese, it might indeed be the best ever; creamy, a touch of salt, a dash of herbs, and just enough sharpness to keep her mouth watering. She wanted to go over and hug those funny-looking black-and-white cows, and thank them personally for such a lovely meal.

  Lijss sat down beside her, and they shared another skin of wine, this time not thinned with water, a reward for the courageous. Harmannus hovered nearby, eager to learn more about their illustrious guest, but polite enough to let her finish eating first.

  Once she was done they began a question and answer session in earnest, with the Dutch gathered eagerly around to hear. Pam now trusted these people completely, and told them she was from Grantville.

  The Dutch villagers excitedly whispered " Grantville!" to each other. Apparently the little town from the future was gaining fame everywhere. More slowly this time, Pam explained who she was and why she was here. She noticed that Harmannus and Piet both looked a little embarrassed, while Lijss favored them with a menacing scowl. Curi
ous, Pam pressed Harmannus on the issue.

  "Well, when you came to us we had never seen an up-timer before. We were sure you weren't a Swedish colonist . . . " Harmannus trailed off, and Pam suspected there was something else he didn't want to say.

  "Who did you think I was then?" She prodded him for an answer.

  Harmannus looked uncomfortable, seeming to search for the right words. "Well, we, because of your peculiar, yet obviously fine clothes, thought you might perhaps be an entertainer . . . "

  "An entertainer? What kind of entertainer?"

  Harmannus and Piet were both turning a fine, fire engine red.

  "Well, on a ship, there's usually only one person who can afford to have an entertainer, especially a female entertainer, so we thought you must be the captain's . . . "

  "The captain's what?" Pam raised her eyebrows at the man in dawning horror.

  "Um, we thought you must be the captain's woman."

  "He means to say 'whore,' " Lijss stated bluntly, then looked embarrassed herself.

  "It was your clothes!" Harmannus tried to explain. " You look like those China girls they bring to work in Amsterdam's brothels," he blurted out, then realized he had made things go from bad to worse for himself. Before he could say anything else, Lijss leaped up at astonishing speed to cuff his ear, making him yelp.

  "And what would you know about Chinese whores in Amsterdam?" Lijss asked her husband, still using the German dialect, possibly for Pam's benefit, possibly so those nearby couldn't catch her meaning.

  "Nothing my dear! They are famous, that's all! We heard about them in the taverns." Another cuff came, harder than the last.

  "The taverns! So, that is how you and your worthless brother spent your time on those business errands, whoring and drinking!" Harmannus frowned miserably, looking to the sky for heavenly intervention.