Grantville Gazette.Volume 22 Read online

  "I know, dear. I quite agree. We can't have the servants bringing sick children into the house. That's why I sent the doctor around to see him."

  H.A. could have grown a tail and horns without startling his wife any more than he did with his calm agreement that was not an agreement at all. "You sent the doctor?! You knew about this?"

  Briefly H.A. was worried about his own head rolling. Then he remembered that this was the 1600s, that the money was his, and that she really didn't have much of anywhere else to go if she wanted to continue living in the manner to which she was accustomed. "I've known for months that Maire was unhappy with the care Alois was getting."

  "Maire?" While Catharina was satisfied with the care her children were receiving, she had to admit the children were clean, happy and well behaved, she had never gotten completely over not being allowed to hire her first choice. "Her child is supposed to be dead!" The implication was they had been lied to and that she should be dismissed.

  "Alois is the grandson of the merchant Henrich. He hired Maire to care for the child and then he brought her here. When she took this job he made arrangements with his usual inn to look after the boy for him. That is where Maire goes when she has time off. As I said, I've known for some time that she was unhappy with how the boy was being looked after."

  "I don't think I like our nanny being distracted with other children," Catharina said.

  H.A.'s voice took on a firmer resonance. "I don't think I would want my children being raised by someone who could turn her back and let a child she once cared for die just because it was no longer convenient. If she cares for the last lot, then she will care for the next. I like knowing she cares."

  "Well, she can't keep it here!"

  "Why not? Now, I quite agree that we can't be having the help bring sick children to work, but this is the only home Maire has, so she sure couldn't leave the child with its grandmother, now could she? So I sent a doctor. That last girl you hired, Anna, can look after the boy and still get her work done. She's been unhappy and pining away over not having a child to care for since you hired her. That's the job she thought she was getting after all, wasn't it! Well, now she can quit sneaking upstairs to peek at our kids."

  "And just how do you know all of this?" Catharina was suddenly very suspicious. Her husband seemed to know a lot more than he should about the nanny and one of the maids.

  H.A. had enough sense not to chuckle. "I talk to Fred."

  "Fred? Fredrick? You talk to your valet?"

  "Yes, I talk to my valet. He is a very interesting character. He has a bottomless supply of dirty jokes. He's been through some rather incredible circumstances, and he keeps me posted on what is going on in the kitchen, in the stables and in the garrets."

  Catharina was mollified on one point but still wound up on the other. "And you think it will be all right to just let the staff raise this merchant's bastard-" She made a correct assumption on the child's linage. "-grandson."

  "I don't see why not. We've got way more staff than we need to get the work done. If the child is to hand, then Maire will know he's well and she can quit worrying about him so she will have one less distraction, and she can pay more attention to what she is supposed to be doing. Look, we've got a live-in Irish sitter. Think of Alois as a live-in playmate."

  H.A. got that look on his face; the one Catharina was learning to associate with things her husband seemed unable or unwilling to explain, the look he sometimes described as a shit-eating grin. "No. I don't see any reason we can't keep an in-house playmate. But, I will definitely draw the line at keeping bunnies."

  Northwest Passage, Part One

  Herbert and William Sakalaucks

  Part I

  November 1633

  A bright sun and a cool breeze made Copenhagen the best place in the world as far as Sergeant Karl Andersen was concerned. He strolled with the three members of his city watch patrol through the open air market. They paused occasionally to gossip with the shopkeepers. Karl anticipated stopping for a large stein of beer with his men when their shift ended in an hour. The day had been relatively peaceful, with only the one pickpocket breaking the calm. The thief had literally fallen into their arms. He ran into them as he rounded a corner to escape from his victim. His years on the city watch and the army had taught Karl to enjoy days like today, since they usually meant the other shoe would drop soon.

  He was jolted out of his daydream of beer by an unusual noise. A faint commotion could be heard from ahead of them. "Come on, men," he said and headed toward the noise.

  "Sounds like a fight!" The most junior member, Jens, nearly squeaked in his excitement. Everything recently had been blissfully quiet and Jens was anxious for action. Muffled cries sounded, coming from the section of the city where the recent influx of refugees had congregated. Trouble had been brewing there for some time.

  "Seems like our afternoon's peace is over, boys. Check your gear; it sounds like the refugees have started to riot. Third time this month. They're getting hungry and the council does nothing, as usual." Karl glanced back to check his men. Gunnar and Jakob were ready, but Jens' scabbard threatened to trip him again. "I thought I told you to get a new strap for that scabbard! Serves you right if it trips you and you get stuck."

  The sounds of a major riot were now plainly audible. "Jens, be prepared to go for help if I tell you." Karl didn't need a green recruit in a riot. He'd be just as likely to stick one of the patrol with his sword as a rioter. "Now, draw swords and cudgels and follow me. Wait for my signal before you do anything drastic!"

  They charged around the corner, boot nails sparking on the cobblestones, only to halt, startled. Men, women, and children were laughing, cheering and dancing in the street. A number of people waved copies of a broadside. Extra copies were posted on the wall of the nearby church.

  Karl grabbed a youngster who had a broadside in his hand. "What's going on here? We thought there was a riot!"

  The boy grinned and held up the sheet. "Says here the king is giving free land to all able-bodied men; forty acres to each man, and twenty more if he's married. Now we won't have to beg the city council for a meal." He twisted free and raced off into the mob.

  Karl shook his head in amazement. "Put 'em away, boys. It looks like we aren't needed here now. I just wonder what will happen when these fools wake up and find out this was a lie."

  The watchmen sheathed their swords and cudgels and headed for the local tavern. The run had worked up a powerful thirst and their watch was just about over. Karl picked up a broadside that someone had dropped and jammed it in his tunic.

  ***

  The door slammed shut and nearly shook the painting off the wall. The logs in the fireplace settled, giving off a shower of sparks. Sir Thomas stalked into the room, looking like he was ready to spit nails. "What the hell were you thinking, Reuben? We agreed to post broadsides announcing the new company, not tell all of Copenhagen that we're giving away free land." He paused to catch his breath, and then turned to the other of the pair. "Or was this your idea, Saul?"

  The Abrabanel brothers started to laugh.

  This only set Sir Thomas off again. "Your uncles may have put up the majority of the funds for the expedition to Hudson's Bay, but my friends and I have our fortunes tied up in it, too!" Normally a very mild-mannered English diplomat, Sir Thomas Roe appeared ready to strangle the younger men.

  Saul attempted to calm Sir Thomas down. "Yes, Reuben was the one who had the broadsides printed and distributed. According to the discussions you and Captain Foxe had with us, recruiting colonists is the biggest task facing us if the expedition is going to sail on time." He poured a glass of wine, handed it to Sir Thomas and then continued. "We've already had fifteen families stop by the office to sign up. Another week and we should have all the soldiers, fishermen, and farmers we need. Then all we'll need are the miners and craftsmen you said you would locate."

  Sir Thomas stared at the glass and then downed it in one long swallow. "Just how do you
plan to pay for their passage? You're giving away thousands of acres."

  Reuben said, "Remember, the king said he wants the refugees and all the riffraff cleared out? He agreed that the crown would pay for every refugee family and prisoner we sent. We've made sure that everyone we've signed up is a refugee. I've also made arrangements with the city jailer to have all prisoners with craft or military experience turned over to us. We may not have to cover any passage expenses ourselves. The king will cover it all!

  "Besides, what are a few thousand acres, compared to the millions that the Company will still own."

  His calm manner stopped Sir Thomas as he was working up to another outburst. Slowly, the impact of what the brothers had done dawned on him. "Well, I'll be damned. You boys actually put one over on Christian when you wrote up that charter. And you're right, only settlers will make our lands valuable. It looks like I'll have to get busy and get the miners and craftsmen moved here. Captain Foxe will need to get the ships ready to sail sooner than I thought. I'll notify him that he needs to proceed with his part of the enterprise as soon as possible."

  ***

  Captain Luke Foxe reread the note from Sir Thomas. He chuckled when he read the part about Reuben's ploy to recruit colonists. In the flickering lamp light, his features still showed a hint of the experiences from his last discovery voyage to Hudson's Bay and the recent voyage to Greenland. The privations he suffered as he waited for the audience with King Charles that never came, and the poor food the Spaniards had for their sailors on the voyage to Greenland, had aged him. The last month, though, had done wonders for his health. The small inn, where he was currently lodged, had some of the best food he'd eaten since he first went to sea. His stomach no longer bothered him. The only problem was that his trousers were starting to get a little snug. A month back at sea and that problem should take care of itself.

  "Svend, I want you to prepare the letter to Sir Thomas that we discussed earlier, on the four captains I met with today. They are all interested in signing on for the expedition and their ships meet our needs. I'll meet at his convenience tomorrow to go over the details."

  "I'll get to it immediately, Captain." At fifteen years of age, Svend had all the eagerness of youth for a great adventure. Ever since Captain Foxe had first sought lodging at his mother's inn, Svend had been like a young puppy trying to please its master. Luke had finally surrendered to the inevitable. As his share of the work to prepare the expedition to Hudson's Bay increased, Luke hired Svend as a messenger. Surprisingly, Svend had turned out to be well-educated, with a clear hand for writing. He now served as Luke's temporary clerk.

  "As soon as you have a clear copy ready, I'll sign it and you can take it to Sir Thomas' house. Wait for his answer, if he's there. I'll ask Mette to keep a meal warm for you."

  ***

  With the signed letter in a leather pouch, Svend set off for Sir Thomas' house. Supper tonight was to be chicken with dumplings. Svend could almost taste his mother's cooking as he raced out the door and rounded the corner. With his mind on dumplings, he barreled right into one of the four watchmen heading toward the inn. Svend knocked the young man over in a tangle of limbs and scabbard.

  The older watchman, who was evidently the leader, grabbed Svend by his collar and lifted him clear. He roared at the man on the ground, "I told you Jens, get that strap fixed. If this had been a real brawl, you'd be dead." Then he asked Svend, "And where are you off to in such a hurry, lad? Or are you running from someone?" He set Svend down but still held onto his collar.

  Svend opened the flap of his pouch to show the letter. "I'm carrying a letter for Captain Foxe to Sir Thomas Roe. I apologize for my inattentiveness, Sergeant."

  Karl grinned. "You're from the inn, aren't you? I thought you looked familiar. Be on your way, but watch where you're going!" He let go of the collar, then gave Svend a smack on the backside that propelled him off. "Let's get that beer before anything else interrupts us."

  ***

  As befitted the status of the ambassador from the English court to Denmark, Sir Thomas' house was in the Hovermarken neighborhood and was solidly built of gray, faced stone. Before he climbed the steps to the door, Svend paused to straighten his tunic and run his fingers through his hair. The Captain would really dress me down if I showed up looking like a street urchin, he thought as he reached for the bell pull. This was the first time he'd been to Sir Thomas' house since the ambassador's family and staff had joined him here in Denmark. The door opened and Svend was surprised to be greeted by a petite, dark-haired young lady.

  "May I help you?"

  Tongue-tied, Svend stammered, "I have a letter for Sir Thomas from Captain Foxe."

  She opened the door wide and invited him in. "My uncle is in the study. Please have a seat and I'll get him."

  As she walked down the hall, Svend noticed that the dress she was wearing was a patched hand-me-down.

  A few minutes later, Sir Thomas appeared. "Agnes said you've a message from Captain Foxe?"

  "Yes, sir." After he handed over the letter, Svend continued, "Captain Foxe asked me to wait for your answer, if it was convenient."

  Reading the note, Sir Thomas started back down the hall. He motioned for Svend to follow. When they entered the study, Sir Thomas looked up. "Have a seat. I do have an answer and I won't be a moment composing it." He quickly penned a reply. "Take this back to the Captain. You may tell him that a meeting at ten o'clock tomorrow morning will be fine."

  Svend placed the note in the pouch and headed for the door. The young lady watched from a door at the end of the hall.

  ***

  "I must be getting old," Karl thought, trudging through the gathering dusk to his home. "Only two beers and Magda won't even be surprised. I've been home early every night the past two weeks." He sighed. "Just an old married man." He opened the door to the house he and his wife, Magda, shared with their son, Johann and his family.

  " Farmor!" He was instantly mobbed by his four oldest grandchildren. Magda looked up from her cooking. "Children, let your grandfather get in the door before you pester him. Dinner will be ready as soon as Johann finishes at the shop." She tasted the stew and then continued to stir the pot. The stew's aroma had Karl's mouth watering. She gave Karl the look every wife had when she knew something was up. "I hear there was some excitement this afternoon among the refugees. Anything important happen?"

  "No, just someone posted broadsides on free land. Can you imagine, the fools actually thought someone would give them free land?" He reached into his tunic and pulled out a rumpled paper. "Here's a copy. Some fools will believe anything."

  Magda read the broadside and frowned. "Too bad you're too old to start farming and the land is so far away. We could turn the house over to Johann." Karl looked at her like she had lost her mind, but Magda continued with a twinkle in her eye. "Then they would have enough room, especially since Bergitte just found out she's expecting again!"

  Karl asked, "Does Johann know yet?"

  "No. Bergitte plans to tell him when he got home tonight. And don't you dare let the cat out of the bag beforehand!"

  "This calls for a celebration. I'll get the akvavit from the cabinet."

  Karl headed to the storage room, and Magda turned to toss the broadside into the fire. She paused, folded the paper and tucked it into her apron, a thoughtful expression on her face.

  ***

  The next day dawned cold and cloudy with a hint of precipitation to come. Luke finished the last of his breakfast, then sighed, contented. "Mette McDermott, I can't remember when I've eaten so well!"

  "You must be getting old, Captain. You've already forgotten you said the same thing yesterday." Smiling, Mette picked up Luke's dishes and headed toward the kitchen.

  While the buxom, blonde widow retreat into the kitchen, Luke realized that he felt better than he had in years. Ever since his trip to Grantville, where he saw his "obituary" in the history books, his attitude on life had changed. Knowing when and how one was supposed t
o die tended to change one's focus. Now that he had cheated death, anything seemed possible, even starting a family. Now where did that idea come from?

  Muttering to himself about crazy old men who should know better, Luke looked up when Svend entered the room. "Are you ready? We have a busy day. We'll head to the ship and get my books and papers for the meeting. I want you and Mr. Barrow to go with me." Luke picked up his boat cape, but the image of Mette McDermott stayed with him.

  ***

  The familiar harbor smells set Luke to thinking about the planned voyage. He thought over what was involved with the planned expedition and what he had heard about the Roanoke, Jamestown, and Plymouth expeditions and came to some solid conclusions. Those expeditions had tried to get by on half measures and ended up on half rations. If investors could be convinced to actually start a colony on a firm footing, the long term payoff should justify the cost. Four or five seaworthy vessels of at least eighty tons each should meet the need. They would carry not only settlers, but adequate food supplies, tools and trade goods. His ship, the Kobenhavn, would serve as one of two ships to carry colonists. He wanted two ships to carry the soldiers, their equipment and enough food to last until a harvest could be brought in. The fifth ship would carry the livestock, grain and trade goods. They would need to be well armed, too. The Kobenhavn 's armament consisted of six cannon and the livestock ship could carry four more cannon. Those four would be unloaded for the defense of the colony. Along with forty arquebuses, powder, and shot, that should deter any but the most determined attackers. Trade goods to acquire the needed land from the natives should make for good relations with the new neighbors. They would also need at least one resupply of food with the second group of settlers, in case there were crop failures the first year.