For Louis De Geer, the spring of 1633 was a boom time for his armament business. Everyone seemed to be buying. The French, the Danes, the States General, even the English. The Spanish too had approached him, but he had never knowingly armed an enemy of The United Provinces, unlike Elias Trip. It was the English purchases that surprised De Geer the most. Rumors in the winter of 1632 had indicated that Philip Burlamachi was close to bankruptcy and that there had been a serious disagreement between Burlamachi and his brother-in-law and major creditor, Philip Calandrini. Then, as if by magic, Burlamachi seemed to be as wealthy as Midas. Longstanding debts going back as far as a decade had been paid off and Burlamachi was purchasing war material and recruiting mercenaries. A lot of mercenaries.
The question was, where was the money coming from?
There was only one reasonable answer.
France.
The question then became, what did Richelieu get out of it? What did the English have that Richelieu would want? And who would know the answer?
There was one major source of information that De Geer could count on. Jean Hoeufft. Through his brother, Mathieu Hoeufft, Jean Hoeufft was one of two agents that Richelieu used to obtain credit and purchase war material in Amsterdam. Earlier in the 1630's Jean Hoeufft had been the conduit for French money sent to Gustavus Adolphus through De Geer. If anyone would know what Richelieu had received for pouring silver into the hands of Charles I, it would be Hoeufft. De Geer sent for Jan de Vries. "I want you to go to Paris. Talk to Jean Hoeufft and see if you can discover what the French got for the money they're pouring down the English rat hole."
De Vries nodded. "By land or by sea?"
De Geer smiled. "By sea. It will be quicker."
Five weeks later De Geer received three separate dispatches from Jan de Vries over the space of a week. Clearly, De Vries wanted to make sure the message got through. Each had been encoded using the cipher system given them by Colette, and each had the same message once decoded.
NORTH AMERICA.
Oh ho, thought De Geer when he read the message. Lord Baltimore is going to be unpleasantly surprised, if he doesn't already know.
De Geer shook his head. No, if Cecil Calvert knew then the news would have leaked by now. So both the English and the French were keeping this a secret. Which, given the nature of the royal courts in both countries, astonished him. In fact, it made De Geer uneasy. If they could keep something this momentous secret, what else might be going on?
But the most immediate concern was what to do about the Dragon and the expedition to Maryland.
De Geer smiled. The French and Dutch were allies, were they not? It should be a simple matter to negotiate for the land grants needed to mine the chromite in the Baltimore area. Perhaps Colette and Josh could leave early for their trip to Paris.
Then De Geer remembered who they would be staying with. Richelieu's niece, the marquise de Combalet. Perfect!
But they would need legal advice. He sent for Dirck Graswinckel.
Graswinckel was enthusiastic. He had enjoyed his stay in Paris with Hugo Grotius and had numerous contacts there.
"You will be arriving early, so I will arrange some funds with a bill of exchange sent to Jean Hoeufft. Be careful. We don't want the French to know we are looking for chromite. Just ask for a general mining concession in the area. Better yet, ask for several mining concessions and let them negotiate you down to the ones we want. Explain everything to Josh and Colette. If they impress the marquise de Combalet it would ease the way for a meeting with Richelieu if that is needed."
After Graswinckel left De Geer sat back in his chair. Every business instinct he had told him there was something deeper going on. But what?
The first ten days of their stay in Paris were a whirlwind of activity for Colette and Joshua Modi. They arrived at the Petit Luxembourg on a sunny afternoon. The ride through Paris had been disconcerting for Josh, with constant deja vu flashes as he caught glimpses of street patterns or buildings.
The marquise de Combalet waited for them in the foyer of the Petit Luxembourg having been warned of their arrival by the courier they had sent ahead on reaching the gates of Paris. She wore an elegant green dress and had a string of pearls around her neck although she wore very little make-up. She had black hair and black eyebrows and a small receding chin. She was not very pretty, but to Josh she seemed to exude a presence of serenity and confidence.
She knows who she is, thought Josh, and she's happy with herself.
To her right were two old women, one dressed in serviceable brown and white clothing and the other in black. Both women had canes and were watching him and Colette with intelligent intensity. They were so much alike that they looked like bookends.
After the initial introductions, the marquise, who insisted they simply call her Lady Marie, turned to the two old women. "Colette, I believe you know Marie de Gournay?" She motioned to the woman in black.
Colette smiled and moved to hug the older woman. "I am so happy to meet you at last, Marie! But you weren't supposed to tell on me!"
Marie de Gournay laughed. "I was too proud of you, my dear. And I couldn't stand the men at the salon going on and on how Crucibellus was obviously a man and how no woman could possibly write in such a concise and intelligent manner. Ha! Weren't they surprised!"
Marie turned to the woman next to her. "This is my friend, Louise Bourgeois. She insisted on meeting you and Josh. She was the royal midwife for many years and teaches at the school for midwives at the Hotel Dieu across from Notre Dame Cathedral."
Louise smiled. She too seemed to exude the same serenity and confidence exhibited by Lady Marie. "I hope you can tell me something about the medical practices in Grantville. We have heard many rumors here in Paris but very few facts."
Colette shrugged. "I do not know much, but my husband was born in what we call the 'up-time universe' where Grantville came from. He may be able to help you."
Inside Josh cringed. Oh boy, he thought, I wish I had paid more attention in biology now. "I don't know if I can be of much help, Madame Bourgeois, but I will do what I can. My major at Ohio State University was business history."
Marie de Gournay suddenly poked him with her cane. "And how has this husband of yours been treating you? With the respect due your intelligence and education, I hope!"
Colette laughed. "Oh, yes. He has been an excellent husband!" She patted him on the arm affectionately. "But he does spend too much time with his business."
The two old women scowled at him.
Great, Josh thought, now they look like two little pit bulls.
"Life is too short, young man!" said Louise Bourgeois. "Your wife is more important than any business!"
Next to him Colette grinned.
"And who is this young lady?" the marquise asked, indicating Regina.
"This is my kammerjungfer, Regina Kniphoff," Colette said. "The nearest translation in French would be that of a young lady-in-waiting. She is also my business assistant."
The marquise smiled as Regina curtsied.
"I am very pleased to make your acquaintance, Lady Marie," Regina said.
"Since I knew you would have a young girl with you, Colette, I asked Louise if she would be willing to have one of her granddaughters act as a guide and companion for Regina. Catherine?" A young girl Regina's age came shyly forward. "Regina? This is Catherine Luynes. Catherine, Regina Kniphoff, Colette's… kammerjungfer?" She looked at Colette, who nodded.
The two girls moved off to the side and began chatting with each other.
"I knew you would be tired from your trip," the marquise said, "so I scheduled no lectures until the day after tomorrow. But I must tell you that many people are very jealous of me." She motioned to a corridor and they all began walking down the hallway.
"Why is that?" Colette asked.
"We have had very few people from Grantville come to Paris. Oh, there was the diplomatic delegation recently, but they spent very little time here and did not participate in any salon meetings. All of Paris was rather disappointed."
"Really? Why?" Josh asked.
"The salons of Paris are where many women learn about new events in science, art, literature and mathematics Josh," said the marquise. "Grantville has been on everyone's lips for months but most of what we hear is outlandish rumor." She smiled. "I am afraid you will be as much in demand as Colette for giving lectures. I hope you don't mind."
Time to be diplomatic, thought Josh. "I would be delighted to assist you in any way I can, Lady Marie."
This time when the marquise smiled it was as brilliant as the sun. "I hoped you would say that!" She chuckled. "The marquise de Rambouillet will simply die of envy!"
"Marquise de Rambouillet?" Colette asked.
Lady Marie seemed to wave her hand in dismissal. "The marquise de Rambouillet began the tradition of the salons of Paris in the early 1600's. Hers is still the most famous. She tends to focus more on art and literature, while I try to attract those of science and mathematics." She laughed. "But she will try to steal you away soon enough." She stopped in front of a doorway. "This will be your room. The windows look out towards the garden."
The room was huge, with a large bed, fireplace, and elegant furniture stylishly placed. A connecting door led into a smaller room that would be Regina's.
Colette smiled. "This is lovely, Lady Marie. We will be quite happy here."
Lady Marie smiled back. "Dinner will be at eight. My cook is Lorenzo Stornato from Florence and I asked him to prepare something special tonight. I think he is planning either goose or swan. I invited a few guests, so Marie and Louise will be there, and Vincent de Paul. Until then."
She swept out of the room, closing the doors behind her.
Colette flopped on the bed. "Paris!"
Josh laughed and flopped beside her. "I think this is going to be fun. I hope Dirck and Jan can take care of the Maryland business on their own. I'd hate to have to spoil all this by having to get involved in negotiating a business deal."
Then it hit him. Vincent de Paul. Saint Vincent de Paul? "Oh my God."
Despite Josh's apprehension at meeting a real saint (Josh had to keep reminding himself that Vincent de Paul had not been canonized yet), the dinner was quite enjoyable. Colette and Josh found Vincent de Paul's stories about his time as a slave after being captured by Turkish pirates in 1605 particularly fascinating.
"So you and your master both escaped?" Colette asked.
Vincent de Paul nodded. "Only after I converted him to Catholicism. He was a simple but good man."
It was at that moment that an unexpected guest walked into the room. The marquise hurried over and kissed the man on the cheek. "Theo, I thought you said you couldn't come!"
The man's voice rumbled deep in his chest. "I finished this week's issue of the Gazette early just so I could meet your new guests."
The marquise brought the man over and Colette and Josh stood to introduce themselves. As the man came closer Josh tried not to stare. Now if that isn't the perfect description of butt-ugly, he thought, I don't know what is.
The man approaching them on the arm of the marquise was not just ugly. He was enormously ugly. He had huge, misshapen hands. His nose was short and squashed and his sunken eyes and narrow mouth made his face into that of a monster. His thin hair revealed and accentuated the ugliness of the face rather than softening it.
But then you looked into the eyes and you forgot the face, for the eyes burned with curiosity and intelligence. Like lasers, thought Josh, they burn right through you. Laser eyes.
"Colette, Josh, this is my good friend Theophraste Renaudot. Theo, Colette and Josh Modi, from Grantville."
Renaudot shook their hands gently. "A pleasure to finally meet people from the mythical town of Grantville. You must tell me all about it."
Renaudot seated himself next to Josh and Colette. "Will you be with us long?"
Josh smiled. "The marquise has us booked for at least two weeks of lectures. We had planned to come in August but things went very well with our business and we were able to come to Paris earlier than we expected. We hope to be able to stay a month."
"Excellent," Renaudot said. "May I interview you for my newspaper? I am the publisher of the weekly Gazette du France. The latest issue is at the printers, but I am already looking for stories for next week's issue and it would be a pleasure to interview you and your wife." Renaudot looked over at Colette and smiled. "It would be especially delightful to interview Crucibellus. Was Joe Buckley's story true? Your pen name came to you in a dream?"
Colette blushed. "Yes. I had asked Mr. Buckley not to publish that part of the story, but he did anyway."
"And you felt you were touched by God, did you not?" Renaudot's voice was soft and low.
Colette nodded.
"And He has touched you before, hasn't He?" Renaudot asked.
Everyone around the table was silent, listening.
Colette nodded again, jerkily, and a single tear began to drip very slowly down her cheek. Renaudot reached across and gently wiped the tear away.
"I only ask, Colette, because I too have felt the hand of God on my soul, and He changed my life as much as I believe He changed yours. Perhaps someday you can tell me your story." Renaudot grinned, breaking the spell of the moment. "Not for publication of course. I am not Joe Buckley."
The conversation continued for another hour before the marquise laughed and said it was time to let her guests rest.
"What happened to Theo?" Colette asked as the marquise escorted them to their room.
"You mean why did he say he had been touched by God?"
Colette nodded.
"You noticed that Theo is not the handsomest of men?"
"Yes," Josh said, "But his eyes…"
"Women are not attracted to men's eyes, Josh, especially at first. And Theo's father was a handsome man. So Theo always felt alone and ostracized, especially as a young boy. It was when he was ten that he came across an old man lying in the street, clutching a loaf of bread. People began to gather around the old man, screaming and beating him, accusing him of theft. Theo could see that that the old man was starving, that he had stolen the bread to survive, not to sell. But the crowd had no empathy. No mercy. For one brief second God connected their souls. He showed Theo what he must do if he was to relieve the suffering of the poor." The marquise smiled sadly. "From that day forward, Theo dedicated his life to helping the poor. Both my uncle and Father Joseph support him in this endeavor, as do I. In addition to publishing the Gazette du France, he is the commissioner-general to the poor. He is trying to organize an information center where the poor can find out about jobs. He is also attempting to recruit doctors to provide free clinics for those who are sick."
The marquise smiled at them. "He is a very good man. And he loves to hear about new and interesting things. He seems to absorb new information like a sponge, nothing is forgotten. If you could talk to him in the next few days, I would be very appreciative."
"We will, Lady Marie. I promise," Colette said.
The marquise left and they entered their room and prepared for bed.
"They are not what I expected," Josh said, cuddling with Colette in the bed.
"What do you mean?"
Josh nuzzled her neck. "I don't know, I thought the niece of Richelieu would be more, more…"
"Evil? Machiavellian?"
Josh nodded.
"People are complex creatures, Josh. Everyone has good and bad qualities. From what Marie de Gournay has written me, Lady Marie has many more good than bad qualities. I like her."
"So do I. Since we are her guests, let's try to be as diplomatic as we can in the weeks ahead."
They fell asleep in each other's arms.
A week after their arrival they were able to watch the latest play by Pierre Corneille, La Veuve. When Colette expressed her enthusiasm for the play, the marquise encouraged them to use her box at the Hotel de Bourgogne where Corneille's tragedy, Clitandre, was still playing.
"I've already seen it twice, but it is excellent. It closes in three days, however, so you should plan on seeing it soon. Perhaps the evening after tomorrow? I have finally scheduled a night off for you." She chuckled. "You have been wonderful guests, hardly any complaints at all."
"It has been great, Lady Marie," Josh said, "no complaints here. Except for breakfast, of course."
Josh and Colette had been trying for days to convince Stornato to experiment with waffles but without success.
Lady Marie laughed. "I am sure Stornato will succumb eventually."
Their presence, of course, was discovered by others shortly after their arrival.
"So, Cazet," Cardinal Richelieu said, "the Modis have arrived early?"
Cazet de Vautorte, one of his most trusted intendants along with Etienne Servien, nodded. "Yes. They arrived with Dirck Graswinckel, who is an agent for Louis De Geer. Graswinckel is staying at other lodging, however, with a second agent of De Geer's, Jan de Vries, an ex-artillery officer in the Dutch Army. Your niece has the Modis fully occupied. It is what Graswinckel and De Vries are doing that is disturbing and which prompted me to report."
"And that is?" Richelieu stroked the cat in his lap. It purred and rolled over on its back. He smiled and began rubbing its belly gently.
"Apparently," Cazet said, "they wish to negotiate for mining contracts in North America. In Maryland."
For a second Richelieu stopped rubbing the cat's belly. It batted at his fingers and he resumed his stroking. "So, apparently Louis De Geer has discovered part of our plans. Do we know how?"
Cazet shook his head. "Not positively, but I suspect Jean Houefft revealed something. He and De Geer have extensive business dealings since we often purchase war material in Amsterdam. And De Geer has agents or connections all over Europe. It is difficult to hide anything involving armaments or troops from him."
"True," Richelieu said.
"Do you want me to take care of them?"
Richelieu waved his hand. "We were bound to be discovered, Cazet. At this late date I hardly think it matters. And I certainly don't want De Geer's focus to shift to other issues in the weeks ahead. So it would be best, I think, if negotiations were delayed, don't you?"
Cazet smiled. "As Your Eminence wishes."
It was upon their return from watching Clitandre at the Hotel Bourgogne that Josh and Colette found a depressed Dirck Graswinckel waiting for them.
Dirck waited until the doors had shut on their room before venting his frustration over the negotiations. "Which aren't even really negotiations," Dirck complained. "Jean Hoeufft is being singularly uncooperative. No minister will talk to us. Those who do talk to us tell us to go to some office where another minister is busy or has already left. Noblemen that I knew when I was here with Hugo Grotius simply shrug and say they can do nothing without permission from Richelieu."
"Have you tried getting an audience with Richelieu?" Josh asked.
Dirck nodded. "Of course, but it is impossible to cut through all the layers. I did get to speak to one of his intendants, a Cazet Vautorte, but he told me that Richelieu was ill and could not be disturbed. Whether that was true or not, I don't know, but it seems we are being thwarted at every turn. Do you think perhaps…"
"What, Dirck?" said Colette.
"Perhaps you could speak to the marquise? Appeal to her? Get her to arrange a meeting with Richelieu? She is his favorite niece."
Colette shook her head. "I think that would be inappropriate, Dirck. We were invited to give lectures, not to negotiate business deals."
Dirck sighed. "I know that, Colette. But we may be here for months at this rate."
"He has a point, Colette," argued Josh, "The sooner we get the chromite, the sooner we can get some chemically resistant steel. Remember what I told you Greg Ferrara said. Without some kind of stainless steel no sulfa drugs for infections, no DDT, no chloramphenicol to cure diseases like typhoid and typhus. Or at least not enough to do most of Europe any good."
"We must not presume on our friendship with the marquise, Josh," replied Colette. "Perhaps if things have not changed in two weeks, then we can discuss it again." She turned to Dirck and smiled. "I'm sorry, Dirck. But you'll just have to keep trying on your own for now."
Dirck sighed and shrugged. "All right, but don't be surprised to see me back here in two weeks begging you to reconsider."
There the matter would have rested but for the sneaky curiosity of two little mice who went by the names of Regina and Catherine.
In the ten days since her arrival, Regina and Catherine had become the best of friends. They had explored every room, hallway, and closet of the Petit Luxembourg. They had eavesdropped on dozens of adult conversations, giggling behind their hands as they did so. Catherine's grandmother took them on tours of Paris by carriage and Regina saw the sights that Josh had told her so much about: The Louvre, Notre Dame, and the Palais Royale. She was disappointed there was no Eiffel Tower, however.
The night that Josh and Colette went off to see Clitandre she had invited Catherine to her room for a slumber party. "The bed is big enough for both of us," Regina told her friend. "And your granmama is staying the night at the Petit Luxembourg as well."
When they had heard the adults returning they scampered under the covers just before Colette peeked her head in the room to check on them. Giggling quietly, they snuck up to the partly open door and listened as Dirck Graswinckel complained about the negotiations.
"Who is that?" whispered Catherine. "He's handsome."
Regina snickered behind her hand. "Dirck Graswinckel. He works for Colette's uncle."
When Catherine heard the part of the conversation about stainless steel and drugs she turned to Regina, her eyes wide. "Can they really do that?" she whispered. Like her mother and grandmother before her she was interested in being a midwife.
"What?" Regina said.
"Stop infections and cure diseases with chloro whatsits."
Regina giggled again. "Chloramphenicol. Yes, the Americans are wonderful chemists."
The two girls tiptoed back into bed when Dirck Graswinckel left. Regina was soon asleep but Catherine lay awake, thinking about infections and disease.
As wonderful as her grandmother was, she could not cure many infections. Oh, there were poultices and different medicinal plants that seemed to help, but often they did nothing. And as for typhus.. . Catherine shuddered. Her grandmother had told her stories of what plague and typhus epidemics could be like. With sudden resolve, she got out of bed quietly so she would not wake Regina. She moved silently down the hallways of the Petit Luxembourg on her bare feet to her grandmother's room.
Louise Bourgeois was a light sleeper and smiled when her granddaughter slid into bed beside her. "What is it little one, a bad dream?"
Catherine snuggled up to her grandmother. She always enjoyed sleeping with her. It felt so warm and safe. Catherine told her grandmother about the conversation she had overheard.
Louise Bourgeois frowned. "Eavesdropping is a sin, young lady. Shame on you."
Catherine lowered her head to her grandmother's shoulder. "I am sorry granmama. Forgive me?"
Louise sighed. "Yes, my dear, I forgive you. But do not forget to confess your sin in church. Now sleep."
Louise stroked Catherine's head and thought about what she had said. So Grantville could cure diseases with chemicals, but they needed material from some mine that the French owned. She would have to talk to the marquise.
The next evening Josh and Colette dined at the Petit Luxembourg with the marquise, Louise Bourgeois, Marie de Gournay and Theo Renaudot. The after-dinner conversation quickly turned to the morning conference at Renaudot's mansion in which the main subject for discussion had been the admission of women into universities.
"I must admit," Theo said, "that I took a great deal of pleasure in your response to the Comte de Avignon."
Colette laughed. "He just made me so angry! 'Women are too delicate.' 'Women are not the intellectual equals of men.' Ha!"
Josh smiled. "It was Marie I was worried about. I thought for sure she was going to march over and start beating him with her cane."
"That man has been an insufferable bigot for a decade," sniffed Marie. "I just pity his poor wife."
The marquise laughed. "I wish I could have been there. But I did have an interesting conversation with Louise this afternoon." She turned to Josh. "So tell me, what is chromite?"
Oh, oh, thought Josh. Now how did she find out about that?
"Who told you?" Colette asked. She seemed embarrassed.
"Let us just say that the walls have mice," the marquise said, smiling. "Little girl mice with big ears."
Josh explained what chromite was and its importance for making stainless steel and the importance of stainless steel for manufacturing large quantities of drugs and other chemicals.
"Would your government allow you to sell such drugs to France?" Theo asked.
"If we could produce the drugs I've mentioned in large quantities, I'd bet Mike Stearns would be willing to give them away at cost," Josh said. "The only way to prevent epidemics is to vaccinate if you can, and control the disease at the source if you can't. If Paris had the plague or typhus, it would be in our own interest to send the drugs to combat them if we could. You can't put up a steel wall against disease, it just won't work."
The marquise looked thoughtful, then smiled. "So tell me, how does Louis De Geer feel about women as business associates?"
"Uncle, it is so good to see you again!"
The marquise de Combalet approached Richelieu and gave him a quick peck on the cheek. Behind her Cazet de Vautorte seemed to shrug helplessly. Obviously he had been as surprised as Richelieu to see that she had brought additional guests for her visit.
"You know Theo, of course, and Marie de Gournay and Louise Bourgeois, but may I introduce Colette and Josh Modi? They have been the talk of Paris all week. Josh and Colette, this is my uncle, Cardinal Richelieu."
Colette curtsied deeply and Josh bowed. "Your Eminence, it is a pleasure to meet you," they both said.
Inside Richelieu sighed. This would be an interesting meeting. "Cazet, would you have Desbournais bring some extra chairs for our guests?"
Richelieu's fingers were steepled as he pondered what he had heard. There were many advantages here for France. And in the end, what did it matter who helped to develop North America so long as control was maintained by France?
"So you, my niece, will assume the same palatine rights for Maryland as Lord Baltimore had? And you agree to finance its colonization?"
The marquise nodded. "In addition, I will contact Lord Baltimore. Why waste the ships which were being prepared if we don't have to? According to what we were told by Dirck Graswinckel, Lord Baltimore was prepared to spend almost five hundred thousand livres in support of the colony. So long as the colonists are willing to swear allegiance to France, why not make use of them? Any replacements we need can come from France. We should have time to make the arrangements; the expedition was not supposed to sail until November, anyway."
"And you will grant Louis De Geer the mining concessions he wants?"
The marquise smiled. "Yes."
"Think of how this can be used in the Gazette, Your Eminence," Theo said. "Through the benevolence of Cardinal Richelieu, the people of Europe will be saved from disease."
Richelieu smiled. Theophraste Renaudot had always been good at finding ways to praise his patron. "Do you wish a title to go with this, Marie? Perhaps the Duchess of Maryland?"
The marquise gave him a brilliant smile. "If you can convince the king, I would not reject it."
Two weeks later Josh and Colette Modi said their goodbyes and left for Essen.
As they rode through the streets Josh could see that Colette was in a pensive mood. "Guilder for your thoughts."
Colette laughed. "I thought it was supposed to be only a penny."
"Well, I don't want you to think I don't value your thoughts you know. Anything you want to talk about?"
They were approaching the final gate leading out of Paris and Colette motioned around her. "I think I've fallen in love."
"With Paris?"
Colette nodded.
"Well," Josh said, "we could always move to Essen. That would put us much closer. Besides, then we would be close to Amsterdam as well, and I loved that city up-time. Something about the canals…"
Colette's eyes sparkled. "You would do that? For me?"
Josh smiled. "For us, darling. Always for us."
Side by side, they rode out of Paris towards their future.
At the Cliff's Edge by Iver P. Cooper
Friedrich Adelsohn, Captain of the Third Company of the Mounted Constabulary of the State of Thuringia-Franconia, stared at the ox. The ox stared right back. After a moment, it lowered its gaze, and resumed its attempts to convert the roadside into a nicely trimmed lawn. Friedrich wished that, like Siegfried in the Volsunga Saga, he had tasted Fafnir's blood, and could understand the speech of animals. Could the ox tell him what had brought it to this deserted spot, miles from the town? And why it, and its fellow beast of burden, had been abandoned?
The ox stolidly ignored his musings. Clearly, it was what the American movies called, "the strong, silent type." So it was up to Friedrich to figure matters out for himself.
The two oxen had been unyoked and left to graze. The wagon itself was in excellent condition, although empty. If bandits had slain the teamsters, why hadn't they slaughtered the oxen for food? If the wagoneers had fallen sick, where were their bodies? If they were hale and hearty, why had they not simply ridden the wagon into nearby Wurzburg?
The wagon was abandoned on the flank of a great sawtooth-shaped hill, with a cliff brooding over the road. Friedrich remembered, suddenly, that there was an ancient watchtower, half in ruins, near the cliff's edge. Could bandits have taken it over? Was the wagon ferrying supplies to them?
Friedrich pointed at the forested slope beyond the wagon. "Herman, Wolfgang, scout that area. See if there's a trail that looks like it might go up the hill. And if there are signs of recent use."
They didn't have to search for very long. While there were no footprints-if any had been left, they were obliterated by a rain shower earlier that day-there were plenty of broken branches to indicate that men had passed that way.
"All right, looks like we may be near a bandit lair. Bring the horses into cover, and tie them down. Jakob, and Gerhard, stay on guard here. The rest of you, we're going to have a climb. If there are bandits at the top, it will probably be fighting at close quarters, so have your swords and pistols at the ready. But Hans, you're our best marksman, you hold your rifle, in case we need distance fire. Ready? Let's go. And don't make noise."
They started hiking. As they snaked up, they caught occasional glimpses of the crest.
"Captain, there's something smoking up there!" whispered Herman. Clearly, there were people above them. It reinforced Fredrich's suspicions.
As they neared the top, Friedrich signaled a short halt. He wanted his men rested before they clambered up, and exposed themselves. Finally, he judged them ready for action.
"All right, let's be about it. Hans, hold back and give covering fire if we need it. The rest of you, come along!"
What they discovered was not what they expected. There was a group of herdsmen and farmers at the foot of the old watchtower. Some were gathering wood, while others were looking intently upward. Friedrich naturally looked up, too.
A wooden boom extended from a machiolation of the tower, and a cable hung down. It ended with a hook, and a man dressed in black was suspended from it, facing downward. The fire, which was more smoking than flaming, was built beneath him, and he was flailing about and yelling at the others.
"What in God's name is going on here?" Friedrich yelled.
One of the shepherds turned. "We caught a witch, and we're burning him."
"Oh? By what authority? Has he been tried by an ecclesiastical court? Are you bishops in disguise, perhaps?"
"You can see for yourself that he's a witch! He's dressed like a bat, which is a creature of the devil, and he's clearly trying to fly to a witch's sabbath."
"So you didn't hang him up there yourself?"
"No, that's how we found him."
"And that's how you're going to leave him. Damp out that fire!"
The locals muttered angrily.
"Your last chance. Do as I say or we'll cut you down where you stand." Friedrich's men raised their swords.
The would-be witch hunters were armed only with knives and cudgels. Sullenly, they complied.
"Off with you, now." The herdsmen dispersed, with Friedrich's men keeping an eye on them.
"Thank you, Captain! I would bow, to honor your timely intervention, but it is a trifle difficult right now. Do be so kind as to lower me down, gently of course," said the hanging man.
"What, precisely, are you doing up there?"
"I am emulating Daedalus, he who flew on feathered wings from the Palace of Minos."
Friedrich didn't have much occasion to think about Greek myths. "Come again?"
"I am trying to learn how to fly, but I am not a witch. I am a natural philosopher."
"And why are your wings black, and like those of a bat?"
"Surely it is obvious." The German Daedalus spread his arms and legs. "Bats, like birds, fly, and we humans have more in common with bats than we do with birds. Bats have teeth and hair, just as we do. Birds don't. Ipso facto, we should imitate the bats, not the birds, if we wish to achieve dominion of the air. That is the fundamental error of my predecessors, they used feathers, not flying membranes. One was even so foolhardy as to use chicken feathers, can you believe it? Have you ever seen a chicken soar through the air? But look at me now!" He flapped his arms, and wobbled about.
Friedrich covered his mouth, smothering an impolite chuckle. "But you aren't exactly flying, right now."
"I am daring, not daft. The purpose of suspending myself in this fashion is so I can test the wings, know how the air moves over them, feel how best to spread and flap them. Without having to make an actual landing. When I am satisfied, I will use a longer cable, and hang over the edge of yon cliff. Finally, I will dispense with the safety line entirely, and fly off!"
"Like a rock," said Friedrich.
"Your skepticism is unjust, sir. And again, I ask, can you haul me down?"
"Just one more question, Herr Batman. How did you get up there?"
"The lads I hired, they carried up the wood and rope, and so forth, and constructed the support according to my instructions, then hauled me up. But when those country bumpkins came by and accused me of witchery, the wretches fled and left me to my fate."
I suppose they decided they could make better time to safety if they ran, than if they rode the wagon, Friedrich mused. Oxen are not noted for their speed.
In any event, Friedrich was satisfied that the man was neither a witch nor a threat. Except perhaps to himself.
"Very well, men, help our flying friend down." They complied. Herr Batman sighed with relief once he was standing on the ground, unhooked.
Friedrich was suddenly conscious of a faux pas. "Forgive me, what is your name?"
"I am Herr Doctor Johann Boehlen, formerly of the faculty of the University of Heidelberg." They bowed to each other.
"And what led you to adopt this particular site for your aeronautical exploit?"
"I liked the look of the watchtower, and the cliff. I didn't want to conduct my experiments in town, where everyone could see them, just in case they were unsuccessful."
"You are lucky that the rain shower made it difficult for the 'bumpkins' to get a proper fire going. Otherwise you would have been less a bat, and more a bird. A well-roasted one."
"I suppose. I will have to find a better place to conduct my experiments."
Friedrich sighed. "Tell me Doctor, have you heard of Grantville?"
"Of course. Who hasn't?"
"Well, in Grantville, they already have machines that fly. Perhaps you should learn how they work."
"I have actually seen one of those machines in the air. An inspiring sight! And indeed I intend to go to Grantville one day. But I will not be a mere supplicant. I will perfect my batsuit, and then I will go to the tallest building in Grantville, and jump. That will give them proof of my genius, and then the builders of the flying machine will treat me as a true colleague."
Friedrich bit his lip. He was quite sure that all that the doctor would prove was that what the Americans liked to call the Law of Gravity applied to everyone, including natural philosophers.
"Doctor, I believe that they already have found out how men can fly, it is just that the machines do it so much better. They don't have muscles which tire. Surely your genius is better spent building on what they already know rather than what they call, 'reinventing the wheel.'"
The doctor's expression was one of suspended judgment.
Friedrich pressed his case. "I am sure you will fit in well. Why, you have what they call a 'scientific mind.' You didn't just jump off the cliff, you built this test equipment. They like that sort of thing. I am sure that you will be an honored colleague."
Boehlen fingered his beard. "There is something in what you say."
"Grantville lies only about eighty miles to the northeast of here." Friedrich smiled. "As the bat flies."