Grantville Gazette, Volume 40 (5 page)

The boy pressed his lips against Rice's ear and said, "Please . . . Herr Rice. Be quiet, and trust me. You saved my life. Let me save yours.
Ja?
"

Rice nodded.

Oswin raised his head toward the canopy and said, "
Heil Hitler!
"

The bolt action on a Mauser K98 locked in place. "
Wer da? Nennen Sie Ihren Namen!
"

Rice could understand little of their conversation. His head was stuffy and light, words blurred into words, and they spoke at such a pace that even if he wanted to, there was no way he could keep up. The German soldiers above the foxhole asked a couple questions; that much, Rice could infer by tone and inflection, and Oswin answered with his name, rank and unit. The Germans asked another question and Oswin replied, "
Nein! Nein!
" An order was barked, and the boy replied, "
Jawoll, Herr Hauptmann!
" And that was all.

Oswin returned the knife to his boot then grabbed the heirloom and pulled it from his neck, letting the chain snap and fall away. He placed it in Rice's hand and whispered, "I want you to have this, John. I have no family anymore, and I never will again. I have sworn to defend
mien Fuhrer
. When he dies, I die. You take it and give it to your Ella Lou when you get back home. Share it with
your
family.
Ja?
"

Rice tried to refuse, but before he could open his mouth, the boy was gone.

"Wait," Rice said, rubbing the place on the heirloom where the bullet had cut out the words. "What—what does it say?"

But no answer came. Only the sound of artillery, gunfire, and desperate, dying men filled his troubled mind throughout that long, dangerous night.

October, 1635, Darmstadt

"A few hours later," Ella Lou said as they neared Darmstadt, "some GI's found him, all cuddled up in that thin blanket, half buried, half dead. They rushed him back to Höfen just in time. Another hour and he would have died. They tried taking the heirloom from him, he claims, but he wouldn't let it go. He clutched it so tight, his fingers bled." She laughed. "That sounds like your father . . . a dog with a bone."

They sat in the wagon while Clyde's business partner, Rolf, drove. There was concern about their safety as they made their way across the USE. With the announcement that Clyde had put in the newspaper and his description of the artifact therein, what thief wouldn't want to get his hands on a trinket from the past, or rather, the future, especially one of pure silver? Rolf had brought his two sons along to ride horses in support, and Clyde had gotten out his father's old .45 and 10-Gauge just in case. Clyde had also commissioned the USE for assistance, perhaps a gun or two as well to tag along, but with the recent events surrounding Henry Dreeson and the Huguenots, they politely declined. The government's time, resources, and attention were elsewhere these days. There was no official support from Piazza's office on this one.

"Did Dad ever try to find the boy," Clyde asked, "you know, after the war?"

Ella Lou nodded. "He thought about it a lot. The boy had told him that he would die if Hitler died, but you know how boys can talk, especially under brainwashing. He didn't believe that bull for a second. Yeah, he wanted to find him, and even once looked into travel to Germany, but life kept getting in the way. You kids starting coming and then we moved to Grantville shortly after you were born. Time slipped by."

"Why did we move to Grantville?" Clyde asked, gathering up his pistol and the small wooden box that contained the heirloom. They were approaching the entrance to the city. "I mean, we had no family there at the time."

"Well, after work dried up in Harrisburg, your father got this wild hair to move to West Virginia. That boy, Davis, the one he saw being ripped apart by German artillery, would go on and on about how wonderful it was, how beautiful and majestic. He was from Grantville, and so when the chance came, we moved. One of those altruistic gestures you talk about."

Clyde got up and moved to peek out the front of the wagon. Ella Lou did the same, holding onto her son's arm. Before them, Darmstadt lay. It was a beautiful place, she had to admit, similar to Frankfurt am Main, but even more pleasant in her eyes. Her heart leapt into her throat. She felt a little dizzy, her stomach queasy at the thought that soon, she would be facing people she did not know, people that did not know her. And how would they greet her? Would they be kind and gentle? Would they open their arms and accept this lady from the future? Would anyone come at all? Were they as upset at the arrival of these Americans, these West Virginians, as she was in coming through the Ring of Fire?

There was ample evidence that with the formation of the USE, the lives of Germans within its borders had improved; or, at least, stabilized a great deal. But would that last? Human nature being what it was, Ella Lou did not think so. And how would they take a story about their lovely city being ravaged by RAF bombers, even if it hadn't happened yet, and even if it never happened. Ella Lou had not finished high school, but she was smart enough to understand the concept of an alternate timeline. Just because such terrible things had happened in her time, in her world, did not mean that it would happen here. The Ring of Fire
had
changed everything. Everything, of course, but human nature. And would the kind citizens of Darmstadt greet her as a positive sign of things to come, or a reminder that in all things, life is chaotic and uncertain?

"Are you ready, Mother?"

Ella Lou breathed deeply and shook her head.

****

It turned out to be a pleasant experience, all things considered. The Landgrave, George II, a seemingly bright young man in his early thirties, presented himself with much fanfare and celebrity, accompanied by his wife Sophia Eleonore of Saxony. They were also accompanied by their small children and various council members and important personages as could be imagined attending such an event. Though Ella Lou could not fully understand the speech that George II gave to introduce and welcome her and Clyde to Darmstadt, Rolf translated for them. The Landgrave spoke eloquently about his appreciation for the USE and the Americans, and how they had helped stabilize the political situation. He also wished for continued prosperity between himself and the USE. He also took this opportunity to take a not so subtle jab at Hesse-Kassel. Apparently, no love was lost between these two states over some dispute with an inheritance line pertaining to Hesse-Marburg. Ella Lou shook her head. This was the kind of thing she wanted to avoid, and what Clyde, with all his savvy and intelligence, could not understand. All he saw were dollar signs; the bigger the event, the greater the circus, the better the profits and exposure. All she wanted to do was to honor the memory of the boy who had saved her husband's life and be done with it. Now, local politics had been attached to her gesture. And what would become of that in the days and months to follow?

Then she got up to speak to a handsome round of applause from those who chose to attend. The
Schlossplatz
was quite crowded, despite the cool day, and the hastily constructed podium in its center gave her weak eyes a good view of the crowd. The heirloom itself had been hung from a nail on the front of the podium, and all those who wished could come up and look at it as she spoke.

From a speech that Clyde and Rolf had prepared for her, she told them the story of her husband and how he had met Oswin Bauer, a distant son of Darmstadt, near the small town of Höfen. She told them about how this young boy, though misguided in his politics, had put aside his ideology and had given John his family's heirloom to hold and cherish and to share with
his
family. She told them too of their experiences during the Ring of Fire and how John had finally passed away, and how he had always wanted to give the heirloom back to the boy, but time and distance had kept them from meeting again. But now that the opportunity was afforded her, she, Ella Lou Rice, would give it back to the town that had given the world a boy, a man, who would one day meet her John Thomas and help him return home safely, and to one day, give her the best years of her life.

She told them all this and more, and when she was done, she thanked them by bowing low and blowing them a kiss. They treated her fondness in kind, applauding and cheering as she was escorted away from the podium by her son.

"You did good, Mama," Clyde said, helping her into a jacket. "Dad would have been proud."

She rubbed her cold arms. "I hope so. I did the best I could."

He kissed her forehead. "You were wonderful, just wonderful. Now, let's go find something to eat and—"

"Frau Rice?"

The voice was so small that Ella Lou hardly heard it over the bustle of people. The voice spoke again and she turned to see a thin girl standing there in a simple white and brown frock, holding the hand of a young boy, no older than nine or ten perhaps, his head a shock of curly brown hair.

"Yes?" Ella Lou said, looking to Rolf for help in translation.

The girl smiled, curtsied, and said, "Frau Rice, my name is Nina Weiss." She held up a piece of paper. "I read your announcement in the newspaper. The description of the medallion was so vivid, so specific, that I had to come and see."

"See what?" Clyde asked.

The girl motioned to the boy. "This is Stefan, my son. I named him after his father who died in Wallenstein's army near Dessau. Before he left, though, he gave me a promise. Go ahead, Stefan, show the lady."

Stefan nodded and opened his shirt. He reached in and pulled out a perfectly round medallion, hanging from a piece of rope and shining in the bright sun.

Ella Lou fell to her knees and took the medallion in her shaking hand. "Clyde," she said, with quivering lip. "Go get the other one, please."

Clyde returned with the other and handed it to her. He knelt down beside her and they looked at the medallions side by side. Ella Lou's hands shook as she ran her fingers over the old, worn etching of the one John had given her, but it was clear that the lines matched the one in her other hand. Mary the Blessed Virgin, holding her son Jesus, looking into the sky at a bright, glowing cross.
This is it
, she thought, her eyes filling with tears.
This is the one
. But was it truly? What was on the other side? What did it say? She was afraid to turn them over, for if the words, the phrase, that the bullet had rubbed out was not on the other one, then it would be another disappointment, another failure. She closed her eyes and prayed.

She flipped them over.

"Stefan had etched a promise on the back of it," Nina Weiss said. "I told my son that if those same words were on your medallion, it would mean that his father had kept that promise, at least in some small way. Is that promise on your medallion, Frau Rice?"

Ella Lou opened her eyes. At the bottom of the heirloom, where the bullet had struck, the word
Ich
lay. On the other one, in the same place, was the full promise.

Ella Lou held it up to her son. "What does it say, Clyde?"

"
Ich werde zurückkehren
," he said. "I will return."

Ella Lou could not contain her tears anymore. She let them flow, and as she placed both medallions around little Stefan's neck, she smiled through those tears, took the boy in her arms, and hugged him tightly. "Yes," she said, "it does. Your father has kept his promise, Stefan. He has come home . . . and so have I."

****

A Bolt of the Blue

Written by Thomas Richardson

Bedroom of master tailor Wilhelm Bruckner

Köthen, capital of Anhalt-Köthen, Brandenburg

Monday, May 5, 1636

Her husband's grip on Tilda's hand was as weak as a baby's.

"Tilda," Willi said, even as he grimaced in pain, "
Ich . . . liebe . . .
"

Willi never finished the sentence.

For over a minute, neither husband nor wife moved. Willi remained still because that was now his nature; Tilda Gundlachin remained still because she was thinking hard.

Tilda pulled her hand free of Willi's, kissed him on the lips, and murmured, "I love you, too. Already I miss you." She wiped the tears off her face, then she set her steps for the stairs.