The Grantville Gazette - Vol. 10 Part 14

"As you wish, esteemed Fraulein," Carl answered with a bow of his head. He played a few opening bars and then began to sing her request, a romantic song about his search for the love of his life and how she'd fulfilled him.

Dolf couldn't help but notice that while the coins weren't plentiful, this song brought in more than the progressive songs. After four more melodies, while Carl retuned, he mentioned that Gertrude Fischel not only sold laundry hardware but also MaidenFresh blue bleaching powder which made linens whiter than lying out all day in the sun.

When the set was complete, another small jug of fresh cider was sitting next to Dolf as he munched on his roasted onion.

"No charge." Georg had winked to Dolf when he handed him the onions.

"How did you know I had MaidenFresh bleaching powder?" Gertrude asked later, glowering with her hands on her hips. "I sold out all that I had brought today while you were still playing."

Carl swallowed his bite of onion and took another swig of cider. "There's no MaidenFresh laundry in town and you have Laughing Laundress goods. Pretty obvious connection to me. If you didn't have it, you should. Besides, I recognized the barrel."

She eyed him with suspicion, her dark blond eyebrows lowered. "You're not quite as stupid as you sometimes seem." She changed the subject. "I admit your song is very romantic but who's theFreiin ?"

"All traveling singers, fiddlers too, are issued aFreiin , whether n.o.ble or not, to serve as an inspiration. A muse, you might say. Besides, it comes in handy if he's invited to play for n.o.bility."

"I never heard the song before today," Dolf grouched, almost disapproving.

Carl burst out with a laugh and shook the boy's shoulder with one hand. "It's a song my parents knew before I was born. Surprisingly enough, it's lasted for a good many years. I even heard an English version of it in Grantville."

Adam Oehlschlegel walked over. "Herr Johantgens, my wife Maria was in the market a short while ago and heard you suggesting that your audience purchase certain goods. She also saw what happened at those stalls even before your break." He paused a moment. "Could I prevail upon you to mention my shop? Maria says that we will have a shirt ready for you tomorrow if you mention us in each of your, sets."

Dolf saw Carl consider the offer, then shake his head. "Much as I would like to, it would be unfair for me to take a shirt for what will only be two or three more sets today. But I'll mention your shop anyway."

The older man laughed and gripped Carl's hand with both of his, shaking it up and down. When it came away, Dolf saw a gleam of silver in Carl's palm.

No, this gra.s.shopper wouldn't be wondering where his next meal would be coming from during the winter.

Dolf figured that by early afternoon Carl had received goods or money from half of the market vendors he mentioned. He described Herr Oehlschlegel's tailor shop in glowing terms in each of his sets. After Gertrude had sent word that she'd restocked, he resumed mentioning her bleaching powder.

"Is she your girlfriend already?" Dolf teased Carl. "I mean, she hasn't sent any money over or volunteered to wash your clothes."

Carl grinned. "Nope. But I have my reasons which have nothing to do with her."

Dolf was mystified.

"Isn't it time you went home and did some ch.o.r.es?"

"No. Uh, Papa told me last night that they would be harvesting next week and that I could stay with you as long as I wasn't in your way. By the way, uh, when will you be coming back to Aschersleben?"

"Not for a long time. I've got a number of places to visit and once the fall rains start, I want to be inThuringia . I know quite a few people there."

"Is that where yourFreiin is?"

Carl burst out with a laugh. "Not exactly. She lives inSaxony . AfterHalle , I'm going toLeipzig and I'll visit her."

Jan Wagner walked up to them. "Herr Johantgens, Carl. My niece Gertrude tells me that you're responsible for her selling out her bleaching powder twice today. I thank you."

Carl grinned and showed an uplifted palm. "I can only make suggestions. I can't make anyone buy."

"Tell me, is there anything you've noticed here that is different from other towns?"

Carl twisted his mouth and then sighed. "Your watchmen seem to be more . . . vigorous about getting funds from people marketing goods than any other town I've seen. Personally, I think it's bad policy. But that's just my opinion."

"I'll talk it over with Heinrich Grueber. He's the head of the watchmen." A quick wave and Jan was gone.

Dolf just had to say something. "Carl? Herr Grueber is . . . dishonest. I mean, he doesn't send all the money they collect over to Herr Wagner." He dropped his head as if ashamed. "I, uh, overheard them once. I didn't mean to."

Carl gave Dolf's shoulders a rough paternal rub. "I figured that out when Herr Wagner hadn't seen my lucky SaxonGroschen . But I like having you confirm it to me." He didn't speak for a moment. "It's good to have people like you who can report things that are important to the right people."

Carl looked around and squatted to look straight into Dolf's eyes. He almost whispered, "Don't tell anybody but I gave that watchman an ordinary SaxonGroschen I happened to have in my pouch. I just wanted to see if it would be sent on to Herr Wagner."

Realization burst into Dolf's eyes. "Are you Spartacus?"

Carl put his finger to his lips. "Oh, no. But he told me to come here to see if your report was correct.

Other people had complained but your letter was the first to indicate some money wasn't going where it should. What Jan and the rest of the organization do with what they receive is still impressive."

"Do you work for the Magdeburg Committee?"

Carl gave a shake of his head. "Not exactly. I happened to be inMagdeburg and Spartacus is a friend of mine. So when I said I was headed south toHalle , he asked if I'd make a detour."

"Is that how you, no, well, what do you do?"

"I play my fiddle to make money. As you've figured out, I have connections and sometimes I do things for them."

"When I grow up, could I become a member?"

"Sure. By the time you're my age, the CoCs will be very different. They'll transform into political parties, still pushing for the same social reforms and improvements but in political a.s.semblies such as the city council,Landestags and even a national a.s.sembly."

"But I'll be a farmer! I'll be in a farming village."

"Nothing says a farmer can't be a politician. In fact, my, well . . . never mind. Down inFranconia , right now, farmers are some of those pushing hardest for change. Aschersleben might be officially in theMagdeburg bishopric but that'll never last, not under the Swedes and the new Confederated Princ.i.p.alities."

Dolf flew down the road home that evening br.i.m.m.i.n.g with excitement. First, just the idea that Spartacus . . . Spartacus . . . had read something written by him, thrilled him more than anything he could imagine.

Second, Spartacus had sent Carl, a grown man, to Aschersleben, just to find out if what he said was true. Spartacus was so great that he didn't dismiss what a ten year-old boy wrote to him!

Mama noticed something had definitely changed but didn't say anything, just continued to prepare the evening meal. Papa walked into the house and washed his face and hands before sitting at the table.

Katya sat quietly in her chair.

Papa rarely talked after giving grace until he'd finished his bowl of soup. Today, though, after having a few spoonfuls, he turned his head and looked at Dolf. "So what's the news in the city?"

Dolf was already bouncing in his seat. "I, I wrote a letter to Spartacus. He's a man who works with Gretchen Richter. For the CoCs. About Heinrich at the Golden Lion. I read a brochure he wrote.

Spartacus, not Heinrich. I saw how Heinrich split out and kept some of the money that he collected for the Committee. So he sent Carl to find out. Carl works with the Magdeburg Committee but he's, you know, different from them. Carl says I can become a member. Says that it was good that I wrote to Spartacus about what I saw. But he's leaving tomorrow."

Papa watched Dolf talk, nodding regularly but looking serious until his son stopped. He nodded twice more. "Good. That's good, son. I think we ought to leave early tomorrow to get a good stall to sell our produce. That way we can sell it and listen to Carl." Papa paused. "Perhaps he'll even mention our goods."

Dolf couldn't help himself. He laughed so hard he fell off his chair. Everyone else was so laughing loudly that he got on his chair again and this time deliberately repeated the fall. Which made everyone laugh again. Then Katya fell off her chair and everyone laughed. Mama and Papa let them fall off their chairs one more time before they said it was time for bed.

Dolf rushed about his morning routine, remembering not to let out Carl's horse. By the time he returned home, Mama, Papa and Katya had already harvested two large baskets of vegetables to take to the market.

It was fortunate that they got there early because it seemed like every village for miles around sent at least two or three farmers to sell their goods. Dolf smiled, thinking about how very soon Heinrich was going to hate giving up so much money. Spartacus was going to take care of that.

There had already been a lot of buying by the time Carl came into the market. As usual before going to Georg's stall, he talked to several vendors, including Dolf's parents. "h.e.l.lo, Daniel, Anna." He stopped, then grinned at Katya. "How's Katya today?" Embarra.s.sed and hiding a smile, Katya ducked behind her mother.

Carl squatted and looked at the stacks of carrots, onions, cabbage and celery on display. "They look good. I don't think you're going to have to take any home today. Not with as many people as are here."

"Sat.u.r.days are always good," Papa said with a trace of a smile. "n.o.body will be selling tomorrow so people have to buy for today and tomorrow. You should know that."

Carl grinned. "I do but after three days here, I almost forgot the difference." He rose. "Time to move on."

By the time Carl arrived at Georg's stall, Gertrude was talking with Dolf. "I was telling Dolf I made arrangements with Elina that if I get low on bleaching powder, she'll go get more so I won't be embarra.s.sed at having none when customers arrive."

Carl looked at her, a teasing smile on his lips and his eyes wide in innocence. "Dolf, do you think I should mention her powder? After all, as you mentioned yesterday, she hasn't even offered to wash my clothes."

Dolf knew he was only teasing but Gertrude's fair face flamed. "Do whatever you want!" She stalked away.

"Should I tell her you were only teasing?"

Carl chuckled and gave a brisk shake of his head. "She knows. She just didn't have a response ready.

Or didn't want to make any concessions." He opened his fiddle case and drew out his instrument.

"People can be funny that way. Especially women. You'll learn all about that someday." He looked as if he was going to comment further but stopped.

As he tuned his fiddle people began to gather, requesting favorite songs. "Backe, backe Kuchen?" he asked, looking down at Dolf. "Who wanted that song?"

"Hanna Weber, the baker who makes the rolls for Georg's onions."

A quick opening back and forth of the bow on the strings opened the set. "Good morning, everyone. So nice to see people in a good mood today. Georg in the stall next to me will be selling onions roasted with herbs in a little while. They'll be in freshly baked rolls for a delightful snack. Speaking of bakers, Hanna Weber, down the street from here made the rolls. She not only bakes delicious rolls but also other breads and mouth-watering pastries. Speaking of baking and for the children, here's a song you know. I want all of you to join in." He drew his bow across the strings again. "Backe, backe Kuchen, der Backer hat gerufen . . ."

After singing the song through, Carl began to play around the melody line before coming back to the original line and singing it again with the children. "Now here's another song both children and adults can sing.Du bist mein Sonnenschein, mein einzig Sonnenschein . . ."

Dolf laughed, seeing the initial confusion on some adults who thought they should know the words. The younger set just picked up the happy words as they went. By the time Carl began the chorus a second time, they were singing it as if their parents had sung them the tune as a lullaby.

Carl played several more tunes, ending with a quick jig. "If you're looking for vegetables for today or tomorrow's meals, I looked over the selection Daniel Bauers and Anna Klein set out. I don't think you'll find better in the market today. I'm going to take a break right now to retune but don't go far. I'll be playing again in a few minutes."

Dolf noticed that before the last two tunes, Carl had managed to mention Herr Oehlslegel and Gertrude Fischel's businesses. "Why did you mention her again after she got so angry with you?"

Carl c.o.c.ked his head and gave a slight smile. "I told you I had my reasons. I happen to have met the people who make all the products she sells. That she's selling them and is a member of the local Committee is no coincidence. It's that way in all the towns. So I encourage their sales."

"Oh." Dolf had never considered that the two activities went so well together. He thought for a moment.

"I guess it's, well, like being a Christian and doing good works. If you're doing one, you should be doing the other."

Carl sighed. "Now you're going theological on me. Next thing I know, you'll be headed off to theUniversityofLeipzig like Maria Prost's son did."

The idea was so completely absurd to Dolf that he laughed. Carl joined in but it wasn't his usual warm chuckle. Had he really meant it?

The morning pa.s.sed and they ate a meal, this time supplied by one of the nearby taverns in return for a mention. They had just finished another set when Dolf saw three men ride in from the north. Riders dressed like ordinary workmen, but why would they be riding horses? The leader of the three men had a broken nose and pale blue eyes that pierced, even from a distance.

Carl caught the direction Dolf was looking and made a grim frown. "Dolf, in my town we used to make jokes such as, 'You know you're going to have a bad day when the sun rises in the west.'"

Dolf wrinkled his brow. "But it rises in the east. Everybody knows that."

"Uh huh. And if it rises in the west?"

Dolf giggled. "You're really going to have a bad day."

"Right. Here's another. You know you're going to have a bad day when Gunther Schlosser comes to visit."

"Was that him? What's funny about that?"

"Not a thing. If you're the person he came to see." Carl gave a heavy sigh. "Gunther happens to be Spartacus' head of security. Like Heinrich's supposed to be. Only Gunther hates to leaveMagdeburg and when he does it's because he's going to do something. 'Direct action' is what the CoCs call it. You really, really don't want to be the object of his attentions."

Carl played several tunes and bantered with his audience while Dolf pondered why Guenther would have come to this city. Surely he wasn't going to do anything that bad to Heinrich. What could have been important enough to bring him here?

Dolf emptied Carl's hat for the final time and was surprised when Carl handed him back several pfennigs. "Today's been good." He packed up his fiddle and handed it to Dolf. "You carry it. I'm going over to the Golden Lion to pick up my bag, my walking stick and the money Heinrich's supposed to pay me for the two nights I've played. Sometimes a tavern owner tries to avoid payment, figuring I won't take the time or money to sue him in court. He's right on that but wrong that I won't do anything."

"You mean you'll fight him?"

Carl gave a twisted smile and shook his head. "You must have me confused with someone adventurous.

I try to avoid trouble. It's safer. I just get the head of the town's CoC security or its chairman or someone else to return with me. But just in case Heinrich decides to get nasty, if I say the word 'scoot,' I mean for you to get out of there, right away. Which is also why I gave you my fiddle. To keep you and it safe.

Understand?"

Dolf's heart was thumping wildly as Carl picked up his bag and absurdly straight walking stick from a hidden corner in the storage room. "Two down, one to go." Carl smiled but with a trace of unease.

"Just how stupid do you think I am, Carl?" Heinrich snarled a few moments later. He was standing before them in the main aisle with the front door behind them. Dolf heard the bar to the entrance door go down shortly before two CoC watchmen moved to flank Carl's movements. "Think I don't know who you are? You're one of Spartacus' college friends, all sweetness and talk. You think you can just move on after you've stabbed me in the back. Oh, and if you think he's going to come here in response to your letter two days ago . . ." Heinrich wore a nasty smile as he held up the neatly folded paper addressed to Joachim Thierbach.

Carl slipped his bag to the floor and kicked it under a table. Looking directly at Heinrich and gripping his walking stick firmly, he said, "Scoot."

It took a moment for Dolf to realize who he was talking to. In a flash he was at the door and threw off the bar before either of the watchmen could stop him. He ran straight into the street, narrowly missing a cart and heard the bar slam down on the other side of the Golden Lion's door.

Dolf stopped for a moment then ran to the market. His parents were talking to a vendor at a different stall. "Papa! Heinrich and two watchmen have Carl trapped inside the Golden Lion!"

Papa turned to the next stall. "Where's your uncle, Gertrude?"

"He should be in his print shop but it's late right now and besides, I think he's talking with those men who rode in."