Grantville Gazette.Volume 22 Page 4

  "You would have her leave her home?"

  "This is not her home. Her man died in that corner…" The innkeeper pointed with his chin at a spot in the front room. "… over there. We buried him in the churchyard. It is damned good the Irish are all Catholics. The priest was not about to let any but Catholics be buried there."

  "Irish, you say?" Henrich's mind began to turn over, counting the cost, assigning probabilities and weighing the long- and short-term benefits against the liabilities. "What of her children?"

  "None. She gave birth in that same corner and buried her man and babe on the same day. I need her gone. She hasn't enough language to wait tables, the regulars are fighting over who gets her, and the other girls are deathly jealous. Here, she's poison. You need a nurse, I need her gone. Take her."

  "She will agree?"

  The innkeeper snorted. What an odd question, he thought. Who did the merchant think he was dealing with? He had no intention of giving the girl a choice. "Oh, yes. She will be quite agreeable."

  ***

  Once again Maire was off to where she knew not. That was the story of her life since leaving Dromiskin in County Louth with Tadhg. It was all a grand adventure until Tadhg didn't come back from his last battle. Maire found him on the field with his face blown away. She lost his child when it came too early into the world. Ruairi looked after her in her bereavement, but he failed to come back to camp before everyone fled when a battle became a rout. If he lived, he never did find her.

  Alexander was next on hand to see to her needs but he caught the wound fever and wasted away. She stayed with him when he could not keep up and the rest of the band moved on. She was delivered of his child the day before he died. Father and son were laid to rest together in the church yard.

  Now a traveling merchant had taken her on. Oddly, he saw to it that she slept alone, except for the babe. The merchant fed her often and well, much better than he needed to just to keep her in milk. He was buying meat daily and watching to see that she ate everything on her plate… almost as if he wanted to fatten her up. He also insisted that she learn English and a start on being able to read.

  "Come, lass, walk with me," Henrich said the first day on the road.

  "What did you say?" Maire asked.

  Henrich smiled. "The language was English. You need to learn it. I said come walk with me."

  "Why do I need to learn English? We are going southeast. England is west of here." After the band left Alexander and Maire, he decided to make for home so he could at least be buried in Eire. They got as far as Nijmegen in the Netherlands. There weren't enough Englishmen in County Louth to call the language at all common. She had heard it a few times in the inn as a child and young girl, but no more than that.

  "We are going to Augsburg. When we arrive, there may be a good job for you there. If there is, you will need to speak English."

  "They speak English in Augsburg?"

  "No." Henrich laughed. "In Augsburg, they speak mostly German, and a miserable strain of German at that. But there is a man there who speaks English and his wife is due any day now. They will want a nurse. If we are lucky, that will be you. It will help if you speak English."

  Maire asked no more questions. It did not matter. She was eating well and sleeping warm and dry, and she had a child to care for and love. What else could one ask for in this life?

  One night at an inn there was a west-bound merchant with news.

  "Henrich, I see you're importing Irish. You're too late. Dietrich passed me several days ago with two in tow."

  "Damn!" Henrich said.

  "Caspar," a voice called out, "you're peddling old news. Dietrich's Irish were turned down. Dietrich abandoned them at the first inn he came to when he left Augsburg. They were still there when I came through."

  Caspar, annoyed at being upstaged, looked across the room. "You're Nicolas, aren't you? How is the dispatch business going?"

  "I'm making a living."

  "Join us for a beer," Caspar said. "My friend here is buying."

  "Don't mind if I do."

  "Do you have any idea why Dietrich's Irish were turned down?" Henrich asked.

  "Yes, the tale was all over Augsburg. The American insisted that his wife could only hire an Irish nanny with red hair, but when he saw the two Dietrich brought to town he said to Dietrich, 'they look like they were rode hard and put away wet. What are they, camp followers?' Well, the way Dietrich tells it he was pissed at the man's snotty attitude. He claims he said, 'What did you expect, a virgin wet nurse?' Then he claims he walked out. The other version says the American told him to leave and to take his bedraggled guttersnipes with him."

  The next day Henrich resolved to instruct Maire in behaving like a shy maiden, something she never had been. Shy, that is. After all, every girl was a maiden once upon a time. He began by instructing Maire on her back-story. "Your father was a returned mercenary. You were raised on a small farm."

  Maire snorted and let off with a string of obscenities. "That is a load of crap. My mother had no idea who my father was. I was raised in the barnyard of an inn with the chickens and the pigs. A boy I knew wanted to follow the wild geese and asked me to go with him, or most likely I'd be there still." By wild geese she meant the many Irish bands who found themselves in the Catholic armies of Europe. The boy was a lad from the same barnyard, not much older than she. He was a gentle lover and a sweet lad As he was reaching a man's height there was no place for him in the staff.

  "Lass, that time was free. The next time I hear you using language like that, I will slap you."

  Maire paled but said not a word.

  "Bite your lip and look down."

  Her face stormed red in the way only a redhead can.

  "No!" Henrich almost barked. "When you blush or go pale or get angry-especially if you get angry-bite your lip and look down. If you look up, you are ready to fight. Fight with me, girl, and you will lose. The only question is how badly you will hurt when we are done. But that is not the point. A sweet, young, blushing maid will not make eye contact; she will avoid confrontation. I can land you a good job as a sweet, young widow. They will have no use for a loud, harsh wench out of some inn's barnyard with shit between her toes. They will not want a whore raising their child."

  Maire blinked and thought about what he said. When the blink was over, her eyes were on her feet and she was pulling her lower lip into her teeth.

  "Good. Very good. I almost believe it myself. And another thing, this boy was your husband. He was the only man you ever knew carnally. I doubt you have ever been married, but from now on you refer to any man you laid with as 'my husband.' He was a poor boy from another farm in the village and the two of you got married and ran away to the continent to win a fortune and return home to lease a farm and raise a family. Do you understand? No! Don't look up. Just nod your agreement while counting your toes."

  At the next inn there was a troupe of wandering entertainers who had exhausted their welcome and were moving on. Since they were traveling in the same direction, Henrich arranged for someone to instruct Maire in singing as they walked. It turned out the lass had a good ear, as well as a clear, sweet voice, and clever hands.

  The instructor convinced Henrich that she had promise as a lute player and just by chance the company had an extra lute they were willing to part with. "An innkeeper had it. Someone died or left it or couldn't pay? Who knows? He couldn't or wouldn't pay us but he offered me the lute instead. The strings were dead but I've restrung it." Thomas, the group's leader, did not mention the shape the wood was in. A little oil and a lot of rubbing made it look good. It would take a professional to know it had suffered from neglect. It had also been left with the strings taut so the neck was warped. Thomas strung it over the backside. After a month of careful adjustment the instrument was playable, at least enough to be passed off on some rank amateur. "I don't need two and I'm tired of carrying the thing around."

  When they parted company, Maire had the basics for the lute
down. Her teacher's parting words were, "Don't worry about speed. That will come with practice. Work on your chord changes and your rhythm. Play a little everyday you have a warm place, and remember to let the instrument warm and cool slowly."

  Henrich saw to it she played every night, after dinner. He even taught her a few songs he remembered from his visit to the theater in the Higgins' Hotel in Grantville.

  One night, after he had spent over an hour helping her get the tune and the words to an English song just right, Maire finally asked, "Why are you doing this?"

  Henrich smiled. In a voice full of piety he answered, "It is an act of Christian charity, my child."

  Marie looked down and counted her toes. She couldn't bite her lip because she was too busy gritting her teeth.

  Henrich laughed. "Very good, Maire. If I didn't know better I would indeed believe it.

  "Very well, lass, I will tell you why. It might make things go better if you know. There is a man in Augsburg, an American from Grantville. I'm sure you've heard of those. He is doing quite well. He is the merchant's agent in Augsburg for a great many concerns. The business that passes through his hands is worth several fortunes. I want a slice of that trade. If the man owes me a favor then I will turn a profit on it. You are that favor. For some reason, he has told his wife she may only hire a redheaded Irish lass as a nursemaid for his child. There isn't one to be had in all of Augsburg. I know at least three men who are racing to Ireland and back or scouring the army camps for such a lass. By chance, I stumbled over you. If they will take you on as part of the household, then every time I come to Augsburg, your uncle Henrich will look in on you to see how you are doing and he will leave you some small trifle he has found on his journeys that he thinks you will like.

  "Of course, while I am about it I will brush past this rich American commercial agent and ask in passing if there is any freight he needs hauled or something he needs fetched. And perhaps they will let you keep…" Henrich looked to the toddler on Maire's hip. ".. . him below the stairs. If not then perhaps I can find someone near by to raise him where you can keep an eye on him. I would like it if I knew that someone who loved the boy was watching out for him. If not, then I need to find something else to do with my grandson. Is that enough reason for you?"

  Maire counted her toes and nodded.

  "Look at me, Maire." He waited for eye contact. "Is that enough of a reason?" he demanded.

  Her hard, cold eyes said not a word. Her mouth said only, "Yes."

  "Then you will do it?"

  "Yes."

  "Good."

  By and by she found herself in the city of Augsburg, freshly bathed, in new and modest apparel, on her way with Henrich to a meeting with H. A. Burston and his wife Catharina.

  ***

  "Horatio Alger Burston," Catharina said, "I don't know why you are wasting your time. This Henrich hasn't had time to go to Ireland and back. So this girl will have been through the wars like the last two you turned down. I do wish you would be sensible and just let me hire a local girl."

  H.A. knew his young wife was annoyed with him when she addressed him by his full name. It was by way of being formal. He thought he had her, mostly, trained to his more comfortable, informal, West Virginian ways. "Catharina, Henrich is a man of business, in a small way, with a good reputation. It would be unthinkable to not even look at what he has to offer. Yes, the last two prospects were not what we wanted, but in time, if we are patient, what we want will walk through the door."

  "Horatio Alger Burston, you are a most infuriating man. When it comes to business you have all the common sense in the world. Why can't you apply those same principles to a simple family matter?

  "What you want does not exist. Any wet nurse, will have a sad tale of misery and woe or she would not be hiring herself out while she is still in milk."

  "Perhaps you are right, my dear," H.A. admitted. "Perhaps what I want is just a fantasy." He knew his dreams of how a rich man should live were, after all, a product of the twentieth-century entertainment media. The best cooks were French chefs, so he insisted they hire a Frenchman to cook for them. A rich man got into his car and said, "Home, James," in that upper class almost-British accent, so he wanted an English coachman named James. In the movies, the servants who knew how to have fun were Irish. It was okay to have straitlaced, stern German chambermaids keeping things clean, but his children should have fun growing up. He was rich. He should be able to have what he wanted. What he wanted was an Irish lass to raise his children.

  "Horatio Alger, face reality. There is no perhaps about it. You are not being fair with me in this matter. At best, a wet nurse is a tragic woman who recently lost her child or she wouldn't be in milk. She probably just lost her husband as well, or she wouldn't need to be self-supporting. And that is if she ever had a husband. The truth is, most likely, her tale will be a sordid one. Or if she has been a wet nurse for a long time, and she is looking for a job, then you can be sure she has no personality or no skills. If she had either she would have been kept on in the household after the child was weaned and she would no longer be a wet nurse."

  "You're probably right. It is just that… well… oh, never mind." H.A. sighed. "You are completely right about one thing though. Henrich said Maire recently buried her husband and her child."

  ***

  Catharina didn't let her smile show. Horatio was on the verge of giving in. She was sure, when the coming interview was over, he would give up and let her hire whomever she wanted. There was no possible way any woman could look good after she got through questioning her. What she said next was carefully calculated to make her seem reasonable, to disarm her spouse and set him up for the next round, which she was now-finally-sure she would win. "Well, Tio Al, let's give this one a fair chance, shall we? After all, maybe she will be what you want." She knew using the shortened form of his first and second names would please him and make him feel like he was gaining ground in their clash of wills over cultural matters.

  One of the maids showed Henrich and Maire into the room H. A. called the front parlor. He started to rise to greet his guests but Catharina's hand on his arm kept him in his seat. She had, after all, her own firm ideas on what was and wasn't proper, and she also was working on training her new spouse.

  Catharina watched H.A. smile when he saw the lute Maire was carrying. She took one glance at her husband's face and sharpened her questions to be sure the girl came off looking badly lest Horatio should decide to let her hire this one.

  The girl was young. She was clean and appeared demure or even shy. Her long, dark red hair framed a pretty face. Indeed, if Catharina did not already have someone picked out and waiting she might have wanted this girl as part of the household.

  ***

  Horatio addressed the prospective employee and her escort. "Please be seated."

  Catharina squeezed his arm. H.A. knew her thoughts on how the help should be treated. He did not agree. Besides, if the lass played the lute she probably needed to be seated to do so. H.A. nodded at the instrument. "Are you any good with that thing?"

  Maire looked down and bit her lip to smother a chuckle. She unwrapped the lute, risking the rapid change of temperature just this one time. She quickly tuned the stings and began to sing a slow song in her native Irish tongue in a soft, sweet voice. It was nice but H.A. steeled himself for the employment interview which would follow. Maire started a second song in charmingly accented English without a pause, "Dough is for the rising bread, ray is for the rising sun. Me is a name for my rising self-"

  The words and the tune were almost, but not quite, familiar. It nagged H.A., while at the same time it set him at ease. At last he made the connection. The song was almost like one of the signature tunes from the Maria von Trump… or von Trap… well, von something, anyway… story, the one where the failed nun was sent to raise a family of children and ended up marrying the father. H.A. made up his mind with a smile.

  When she finished the song H.A. said to Henrich, "S
he is exactly what we are looking for. We'll take her."

  ***

  Catharina's mouth fell open and was as quickly closed. She was not given the chance to ask the new nursemaid a single question. What could her husband be thinking? She sighed the most exasperated sigh imaginable and said under her breath, " Americans! Who can understand them?" Still it was clear her husband was in a good mood. If she was going to get anything out of this other than the embarrassment of not getting to hire who she wanted, now was the time to get it. "Tio Al, we could use some new clothes for our baby daughter. And with the diapers to be washed the laundress will need some help. I was wondering if we might buy a sewing machine and hire a girl to help out for a bit."

  "I don't see why not." H.A. replied.

  Catharina smiled. It wasn't the job the girl was expecting but at least she wouldn't have to turn her away after letting her think she would have a place in the household. Horatio was a generous man when he wasn't being stubborn.

  ***

  On November second, All Soul's Day, H.A. arrived home, as usual, about five minutes before noon for lunch, which would be on the table, piping hot, promptly at twelve o'clock. Catharina was sitting at the dining table, waiting for him. Her air of intense concentration clearly told H.A. that there was something on her mind and that this was not going to be an ordinary lunch.

  "What's the matter?" H.A. asked.

  "A doctor called this morning and just left. It seems one of the help brought a sick child into the house." Her tone made it clear. Heads would be rolling just as soon as she found out who did it, who knew about it and didn't say anything or who didn't know about it but should have. To H. A. it was obvious that if his wife had her way, all of the resident staff, and maybe the entire staff, would most likely find themselves in need of new jobs. Considering the history of plagues and epidemics and the high mortality rate of young children, her wrath was fueled as much or more by fear than anger. But, still, H.A. was glad he had made it plain that while she could hire mostly as she pleased, he would be reviewing the circumstances and making the final decision before anyone was dismissed from service. Catharina was a loving mother and a thoughtful, compassionate wife. Unfortunately, those traits did not seem to apply when she was dealing with servants.