Grantville Gazette, Volume 40 (6 page)

She walked down the steps and walked through the tailor shop, headed for the outside door. But with her hand on the door lever, she stopped and turned toward the shop's journeyman tailor—

—who held a pair of scissors in his hand, but he was looking at Tilda's face, not the cloth on the table.

"Pray for your future, Caspar," Tilda said. "Your life is about to change. Mine, too."

Caspar nodded, then asked, "What will happen to the Higgins?"

"Ah, that is the question, isn't it? The Köthen Tailor Guild would love to pass on the sewing machine to some deserving master tailor. Such as you, perhaps. Or my next husband." Tilda frowned at that.

Tilda sighed and continued, "Unless Wilhelm has hidden a bag of gold upstairs, the Abrabanels will probably get the sewing machine. The Köthen Tailor Guild didn't sign that contract, Wilhelm did, but the contract has outlived him."

With those words, Tilda walked out of the tailor shop.

She returned a half-hour later. She told Caspar, "You and I will meet with the full guild at seven this evening. Why don't you take the rest of the day off? But for your own good, stay sober."

Hall of the Köthen Tailor Guild

That evening

Master Villwock looked around the room. "So it is agreed, Master Wieland will give the eulogy? . . . Moving along, to mourn the passing of Master Bruckner, his shop will be closed for one week. Journeyman Fürnberg, step forward."

Caspar stepped forward. To Tilda, the young man looked as excited as if lightning had struck him.

Master Villwock continued, "You have one week to create or to complete a masterwork—"

Caspar gasped. "But that's not nearly—"

"Master Bruckner's shop has three apprentices, does it not?" At Caspar's nervous nod, Master Villwock continued, "We are aware that one week is not much time, so you may command the services of the three apprentices."

"Thank you," Caspar said.

Master Villwock held up his hand in a don't thank me yet gesture. "Part of your test is how well you direct these boys. Understood?"

Caspar gulped; commanding apprentice Josef would be a challenge. Then Caspar asked, "When will you come to judge my masterwork?"

"Your masterwork will be judged at sundown, a week from today. The judges will be Master Cranach and Master Zimmermann, because they do not know you well. Displease either of them, and you will not be elevated to master."

"I'm surprised that you won't be judging my masterwork, Master Villwock."

"That is because if either Master Cranach or Master Zimmermann blackballs you, then I will elevate my own journeyman to master, he will take over Master Bruckner's shop, and you will be under his direction. But if I do elevate Steinacher, I will have no man say that I favored him and cheated you."

"I will make the most of my week, then," Caspar said.

"I am sure that you will," Master Villwock replied.

Master Villwock shifted his gaze to Tilda. "Master Bruckner's death presents a new problem for this guild. He has died in debt, has he not, because he bought the sewing machine?"

"A problem my Sophia is spared," said onlooker Master Becker, "because I refuse to buy one of those unholy contraptions."

Tilda gave him a haughty stare. "Fifteen years from now, you will be shivering outside City Hall, begging for bread crusts. Poor Sophia will shiver and beg right next to you."

"That's a fine tongue you have, future wife," onlooker Master Pfeiffer said. "Maybe I won't marry you after all."

Master Tailor Matthias Pfeiffer was a widower, so theoretically he was a suitable match for Tilda. On the other hand, he reeked awfully.

Now the smelly man added, "Or perhaps I won't give you a dowry, beyond paying off Wilhelm's sewing machine."

"Oh, am I marrying you, Matthias?" Tilda said. "This is news to me."

"Well, figure it. What are your choices? Me, or whatever young master takes over Wilhelm's shop. Simon Steinacher is a stripling whom you barely know. Caspar Fürnberg is in the prime of life, and him you know too well—there would be scandal if you married him. So, it's obvious: I'm the best choice."

Tilda glanced over at the young men just mentioned. Journeyman Steinacher was blushing, and Caspar looked amused.

Tilda looked again at Matthias Pfeiffer. "I have a fourth choice. Both my sister Louisa and I married master tailors from out of town, which is how I came here to Köthen. Somewhere out there is a tailor who lacks a wife and a sewing machine."

"I have no plans to marry you," said onlooker Master Griebel. "My Susanna might object." The crowd laughed at this. Griebel continued, "But I'd be willing to buy the sewing machine from you."

"For how much?" Tilda asked.

Griebel replied, "It's used now, and some of its gear teeth are worn. Taking all that into account, I'll pay . . ."

Tilda heard his price, then answered, "Oh, I get it. You just made another joke." Some in the crowd laughed again—Master Griebel wasn't among them.

Tilda looked at all the masters and journeymen who were present. "But what if I sell off the sewing machine for a joke amount, as Master Griebel suggests? Then I have neither enough money to pay off the remaining loan, nor the sewing machine that the loan was for. So what do I tell the Abrabanel Bank?"

"What do you tell them?" Griebel repeated. "You tell those baby-eaters to write off your loan, if they want to stay healthy and rich."

"If Jews are so bad," Tilda said sweetly, "then why did the Prince of Germany marry one?—"

"Because he's an up-timer, and up-timers are crazy," Griebel murmured.

Tilda said, "In any case, Wilhelm made a promise to pay, and I will keep his promise. Else Wilhelm will look down from heaven and be disappointed in me."

Tilda looked around the room again. "None of you masters buys cloth from only one seller, or even three sellers. You seek out as many sellers as you can find, then you make the best deal. I see three potential husbands in this room, but I will ask my sister to help me find more. She lives in Grantville now, and up-timers know almost everything."

****

Once Caspar escorted Tilda back home, Tilda asked Caspar to escort her to the telegraph office. Tilda wanted to send a telegram to Louisa without delay.

During the walk, Caspar asked, "So your sister in Grantville, what's she like?"

"Well, Louisa is a very different person than when I saw her last, which was the day after her wedding. Being a tailor's wife is very different than being a tailor's daughter. Then the war came to her town, and she became in one day a widow and a war refugee."

"That's rough," Caspar said.

"Eventually Louisa wound up in the Grantville Refugee Center. Less than a year after that, she married again, to a man she met there. He was a blacksmith, and is now a machinist."

"She didn't marry a tailor?" Caspar asked.

Tilda shrugged. "She met only one refugee master tailor, who didn't suit her."

"I suppose all the up-time tailors were married," Caspar said.

"Grantville doesn't have any up-time tailors. I don't understand this, but Louisa swears it's true."

"So what's a 'machinist'?" Caspar asked.

"Louisa has tried to explain it, but I don't understand what she writes. Best I can figure out, a machinist is what a blacksmith turns into after nearly four hundred years."

They heard the telegraph station before they saw it, the
usch-usch-usch
of a little windmill atop the building that somehow made the telegraph and the electric lights work. Tilda felt a girlish excitement: Soon she would see actual electric light bulbs in action, and she would discover for herself whether their light never flickered.

A half-hour later, Caspar was escorting Tilda home. The telegram had cost money that Tilda couldn't spare, but this telegram had to be sent—

LOUISA GUNDLACH VERH. TÖPFFER

211 OAK STREET, GRANTVILLE, SOTF

WILLI IS DEAD.

WE OWE MUCH MONEY FOR HIGGINS.

GUILD EXPECTS I MARRY TAILOR IN KÖTHEN.

I WANT OTHER CANDIDATES.

PLEASE USE GRANTVILLE MAGIC, FIND WIDOWER TAILORS.

Bruckner Tailor Shop, Köthen

Tuesday, May 6, 1636

Tilda received a reply telegram from Louisa the next morning. She was surprised to get a reply from her sister so soon. Tilda was knocked flat when she read Louisa's reply—

DO NOT MARRY YET, COME LIVE WITH US.

HERR MILLER (LANDLORD) AND CHRISTIAN SAY OKAY.

SEWING MACHINE NEEDED HERE.

YOU REGRET FOR LIFE IF YOU SAY NO.

Tilda was distracted during Willi's funeral, thinking about Louisa's telegram and how to answer it.

The biggest sticking point for Tilda was something that Louisa had written in a letter in 1634—

I don't know if I'll ever return to Eisleben, but if I do, I won't see it the same. Every day in Grantville, I question some idea that I'd always been sure of. Grantville does that to you, without trying to.

Tilda wasn't sure she wanted to get her head changed.

But by late afternoon, Tilda again was visiting the telegraph office. Her telegram to Louisa began with one American word—

YES.

—the rest of the telegram spelled out details.

Bruckner Tailor Shop, Köthen

Wednesday, May 7, 1636

"Don't worry, Frau Gundlachin," the blacksmith told her, "your sewing machine will be taken apart with great care."

The morning after Tilda telegrammed that she would move to Grantville, she hired a master blacksmith to dismantle the sewing machine, and hired a master carpenter to crate it up. Because she was the widow of another master artisan, they promised her prompt service, as professional courtesy.

The work was indeed done that same day. But this didn't mean that the masters themselves did the work.

A journeyman blacksmith did the actual dismantling, because this was only journeyman-level work. Likewise, a journeyman carpenter built the crate around the dismantled sewing machine. In each case, the master had to come "inspect" the journeyman's work, and this drove the price up.

When Louisa had written from Grantville that up-timers "hated" guilds, Tilda had thought it strange—like hating safflowers, or beer steins. But now, paying out money that she couldn't afford, to get expertise that wasn't used, Tilda understood the up-timers' dislike.

Bruckner Tailor Shop, Köthen

Early Thursday morning, May 8, 1636

Tilda had been forced to rent a wagon and horse, in order to haul her goods to Halle; the Köthen Tailor Guild would not pay for that. But the guild did hire a wagon driver. Shortly after sunrise, that hired man pounded on her door.

"Are you Frau Bruckner? I'm Bradthuhn. We need to go now."

Bradthuhn, Caspar, and all three apprentices loaded Tilda's Higgins and her other worldly possessions into the wagon. Tilda noticed that already in the wagon, folded and piled in a corner, were several blankets. She was puzzled who had put the blankets there, and what they were there for.

"Goodbye, Caspar. Good luck with your masterwork," Tilda said, through tear-filled eyes. "I'm sure you'll make a great master tailor."

Tilda looked at fourteen-year-old Josef. "Josef, the tailor guild expects, and I expect, for you to help Caspar with his masterwork. If he fails the test because of you, you will not enjoy your life afterward. Right, Caspar?"

Caspar's reply was to growl like a troll at wide-eyed Josef.

Tilda hugged Caspar goodbye (which undoubtedly scandalized the neighbors), then curtsied to the apprentices (even as the boys bowed to her). Tilda climbed into the wagon, then she and Bradthuhn departed for Halle.

She twisted around in the wagon seat, watching as Caspar, the apprentices, and the Bruckner Tailor Shop shrank in the distance. Bradthuhn turned a corner, and Tilda lost sight of that part of her life.

Tilda turned around to face forward then; she sighed. Bradthuhn glanced at her, but said nothing.

After a minute of silence between them, Tilda asked, "Why is it you here, Herr Bradthuhn? Why did the tailor guild hire you?"

"Because I'm an ex-mercenary," he said, then said nothing more.

After ten more minutes together, Tilda had learned only one thing more about Herr Bradthuhn: that he spent words like they were gold.

South of Köthen

Thursday, May 8, 1636, mid-morning

The wagon was moving through the countryside now, passing between farms. Tilda and Bradthuhn hadn't talked much.

Tilda recalled another trip to the countryside, long ago. She and Willi hadn't used a horse; they'd walked away from the tailor shop. She and Willi had been married a year then, and in that year she'd developed true affection for her arranged-marriage husband.

Sometime during their trip to the countryside, Tilda and Willi had wandered over to a haystack—in particular, to the side of the haystack that the farmhouse couldn't see.

Sometime after that, Tilda had screamed—loudly enough to upset the birds nearby. Both Tilda and Willi had smiled for the rest of the day—Willi's smile had been smug.

Now in the wagon with Bradthuhn, Tilda started laughing at the memory of squawking birds—but then she started to sniffle.

Oh, I miss Willi so much!

Just as he had done early that morning, Bradthuhn looked at Tilda but said nothing.

Teacher's Lounge, Grantville High School

First Lunch, Thursday, May 8, 1636

Up-timer art teacher Stephanie Turski was listening as Dwight Thomas told an interesting story—

". . . Had this great idea: We take up a collection, buy the
Mayflower
, tow it to Lübeck, and make a floating museum out of it. But it turns out, I'm thirteen years too late."

"Why? What happened?" Stephanie asked. "Somebody sank it? Lost in a storm?"

Dwight looked around at his listeners. "You all ready for this? In 1622 the
Mayflower
's captain died, and in 1623, they tore the ship apart for scrap lumber. Somewhere in England right now, there's a barn that used to be the
Mayflower
."