Ring of Fire III (39 page)

“Ah. My felicitations to both you and to Herr von Gericke,” Katerina said.

She paused, and then she said in a rush, “This is the first time I have been invited to a ‘movie’ and I don’t really know what they are.”

“It is an up-time thing. They had the ability to record things like plays so we can watch them long after the performance was done with. They call these recordings movies, and what we will see tonight is a movie that is from what they call ‘musical theater.’ It is much like a masque. This one is called
Guys and Dolls
.”

Katerina said, “They are starting to go in, now. Thank you for your help, Madame von Gericke.”

“Not at all.”

* * *

“Oh, Friedrich, it was wonderful!” Katerina said, “I could not believe that the people in the ‘movie’ weren’t alive right there in the theater with us all!”

“Um...hmmm.”

“The story appeared to be about a group of men who were interested in a gambling game, and one man, Nathan Detroit, trying to avoid marrying his mistress.”

“Um...hmmm.”

“There were some excellent songs, too. There was one that was sung by a men’s chorus and one of the main actors called ‘Sit Down You’re Rocking the Boat.’ It was very good. It had a refrain that stuck in my head.”

“Um?”

“It went, ‘and the devil will drag you under by the sharp lapels on your checkered coat...sit down you’re rocking the boat.”

“Ah?”

“But a very interesting part was the Save-a-Soul mission. It seems that there was an army dedicated to saving souls.”

“Eh?” Friedrich Wahlberg looked up from his textbook. “An army for salvation? That is an interesting idea. We have plenty of armies. We have the Protestant armies, the Swedish armies, the French army and the Imperial armies. But even though they say they are fighting in the name of religion, they don’t seem to care about the souls of the people they kill and maim.” Wahlberg shook his head. “It is too bad we don’t have an Army of Salvation.”

“Maybe we shall.”

“What?”

“I have been looking for something to do here in Magdeburg. You are so busy with your engineering, and we have no family here.”

“Hmmm. You know, we are having a real problem with the workers on the wall and drunkenness. It would be good if there was some way we could stop them from getting drunk and not being fit to work the next day. Do you think your Salvation Army might be able to do something about that?”

Katerina thought.

The next morning she went to get an appointment to see the abbess of Quedlinburg. To her surprise, after a wait of perhaps an hour, she was ushered into a sitting room, where the abbess awaited.

Getting straight to the point, Katerina told the abbess what her husband had suggested, and said she wanted to make it come true.

“I want to start an Army of Salvation. My army would not carry weapons. We would be like the mission in
Guys and Dolls
, have you seen it?” she said.

“Yes, I have,” the abbess replied. “An interesting story, was it not?”

“Yes, especially the mission. I looked up the Save-a-Soul Mission in the up-timers’ books, and found out that it was actually called the Salvation Army. I want to have a Salvation Army, a
Heilsarmee
, here in Magdeburg.”

The abbess gestured for Katerina to go on.

“Particularly we would work with the workmen who are building our new city. My husband tells me they have terrible problems with drunkenness and absenteeism. We have to help these poor men!”

“I like it,” the abbess said, after some thought. “We must see how this can be done.”

* * *

“Did you know, Frau Schuesslerin, that there is a long tradition in Magdeburg of street singing?” Friedrich Spee said. “The university students sang for Christian charity on street corners.”

“I had no idea,” Katerina said. “I am not from here originally. I followed my husband who works for Herr von Gericke on the construction.”

“Yes,” the Jesuit said. “In fact, it is said that even Dr. Luther sang on the street with his fellow students. But why have you come to me?”

“I wish to start an army,” Katerina said. Spee’s eyes widened and his eyebrows rose. “But my army will not have arms. It will be a Salvation Army.”

“Ah, like the up-timers, I see,” Spee said.

“Not exactly. That is why I have come to see you.”

“Ah...?”

“We have Catholic armies and Protestant armies. What I want is an army for everyone. So I have come to you. You are close to the cardinal, and you are also a musician and hymn composer of some note. I want to have Catholics
and
Lutherans in my army.” Katerina folded her arms and waited.

Spee smiled. “What would you have me do?”

* * *

“Georg, you cannot keep coming to the hiring hall later and later,” Doorn said, as they were sitting on the lip of a ruined stairway eating their lunch. “Sooner or later, they will tell you to stop coming.”

“I’m not sleeping well, Pieter,” Georg said, rubbing his palms over his temples.

“And you are drinking a lot,
ja?
”

“Not any more than always.”

“You need to stop.”

Georg looked at Doorn.

“What do you mean, I have to stop? You have been known to get drunk, too!”

“Not anymore.”

“What?”

“I have put myself into God’s hands, and I have stopped drinking.”

“Come to think of it,” Georg said, “We haven’t been to a tavern together in quite some time. What do you mean, you have put yourself into God’s hands?”

Doorn looked directly at Georg.

“I have found some help, and I am living one day at a time,” he said quietly.

“What help?”

“I have been going to a meeting in the basement of St. James,’ ” Doorn said.

Georg looked at him and sneered. “How can going to a meeting in a church make you stop drinking?”

“I have had to look at my life and see that it wasn’t working,” Doorn said.

“And you do this at a meeting?”

“No, I do it in my life. I am doing it now. But I learn how at the meeting.”

“So some priest preaches at you until you stop drinking, eh? I thought you Hollanders were all Calvinists anyway. I’ve never had a priest tell me anything that made me better. All they do is tell me how I am going to go to Hell.”

“The priest isn’t even there most of the time. There are a group of us.”

“Well, I don’t understand how this would make you quit drinking,” Georg said.

“I could explain it to you, Georg, but I won’t. When you are ready, let me know and I will bring you to a meeting. You will understand better there.”

Doorn levered himself upright. He stretched his shoulder muscles.

“Time to go back to working,” he said as he walked off.

Georg stood staring at Doorn’s back.

* * *

Georg turned. He was back in the house in Magdeburg. The woman was keening, holding her blood-spurting wrist. But strangely, the little girl was standing, staring at him, holding her body together with one hand. He was holding the bloody hanger. The little girl said, “Why?” and blood came out of her mouth in a gush. “Why?” Her eyes stayed on Georg’s as her body fell away in two pieces.

As always, Georg woke shaking. His eyes were wide open and gradually, he became aware of his real surroundings.

He went to work that morning as if nothing had happened. He was shaky, though, and his friend Doorn noticed quickly.

“Georg, are you all right?” Doorn said.

“
Ja,
of course... No, I...am not all right.”

“Can I be of help?”

“I...I would like to hear more about this meeting you were talking about.”

“Of course. There is likely to be one tonight. We use a program that the up-timers knew about. It is called ‘twelve steps.’ ”

“What are the steps?” Georg asked.

“In the first step,” Doorn said, “we admit that we are powerless over alcohol.”

“Well, that’s certainly true enough,” Georg said.

“There are eleven more steps,” Doorn said, “that lead us to recovery and the ability to live a good and sober life.”

* * *

There were chairs in a circle. The meeting had started already when Doorn and Georg came in. After a few people stood up and spoke, it was obvious how to participate. After one of the speakers paused and sat down, there were some people who were looking at Georg expectantly. He stood up.

“My name is Georg Schuler. And I am a drunk.”

* * *

“Schuler, come in, come in!” Friedrich Wahlberg said, rising from behind his desk and coming around with his hand extended. “Thanks for coming in!”

“What can I do for you, Herr Wahlberg?” Georg was concerned and a little nervous.

“You’ve been doing well, now, for a couple of months, Schuler,” Wahlberg said. “And we need steady workers. I’m going to put you on permanently, if you wish.”

“No more day labor?” Georg said.

“No more day labor.”

“When do I start?” Georg said.

The word got around quickly on the jobsite. Georg kept getting congratulations on his good fortune all day long. At quitting time, his workmates suggested that he come to the
Bierstube
with them to celebrate his new status.

“Georg! It is time to go, my friend,” Pieter Doorn said, coming up to the group.

“I’m sorry, fellows,” Georg said, “I have a meeting to go to.”

At the meeting, the leader said, “Tonight we are going to look at steps two and three. ‘We have come to believe that a power greater than ourselves can restore us to sanity’ and ‘made a decision to turn our will and our lives over to the care of God, as we understand him.’ ”

Georg raised his hand. “What does that mean? Is this a church? Are we Catholic or Protestant?”

“Neither, Georg. We are not a church, either Catholic or Lutheran or Calvinist. We are open to all. That’s what it means to give ourselves over to the care of God as we understand him.”

“This is something that came from the up-timers?”

“Yes, but you do not see any up-timers here. Anyone can use these steps, anyone. We just call it the meeting. But up-time, they called this thing of ours Alcoholics Anonymous.”

One of the other attendees chimed in. “It’s like that new army that they are organizing. The Salvation Army.”

“The what?” Doorn said, eyebrows raised.

“That’s what they call it. It is an army aimed at doing good, while all the other armies are aimed at doing harm. It was started by a woman named Wahlberg. Both the Lutherans and the Catholics are in favor of it.”

“Both?” Georg said, unbelieving.

“Both. The Lutherans are supplying funds, and the Catholics are as well. The cardinal and Father Spee both have been seen singing with the Salvation Army on streetcorners.”

“Oh,” Georg said, “I think I have seen the Salvation Army. There were some people in uniforms playing music and singing ‘
Ein feste Burg
’ the other day on the corner across from the
Bierstube.
”

“
Ja!
That was them, or some of them anyway,” a middle-aged man, who looked like he’d been through a lot, said.

“So it doesn’t matter what faith we follow,” said the leader, “as long as we turn our lives over to the higher power.”

“Well, it is certainly true that I cannot control my drinking on my own,” Georg said.

* * *

Georg continued to attend meetings, stay sober and work through the steps. One day, Wahlberg called him in again.

“I wish to promote you to being a work-gang boss. You have shown that you are responsible and we have need of reliable supervisors. Do you accept?”

“Of course,” Georg said, “and thank you, Herr Wahlberg!”

Georg’s friends were waiting for him and they carried him, protesting, all the way to the ale house and pressed a jack of beer into his hands. Before he knew it, he’d downed the beer and was on his second and then his third. He’d fallen off the wagon, and by the time he stumbled out of the
Bierstube
and headed home, he’d fallen hard.

That night, the nightmare returned for the first time in several weeks.

In the morning, he went looking for Pieter Doorn, who was not only his friend, but had been serving as his sponsor in AA.

“I got drunk last night, Pieter,” Georg said. “I fell off the cart, hard.”

“That was last night,” Doorn said. “Today is a new day. We have to live our lives one day at a time. Sometimes it winds up being one minute at a time.”

“But I...”

“What?”

“I have done some horrible things. I do not think God wants me to give him my life.”

“I think,” said Doorn, “that God forgives us our sins. But, as the steps say, there are some things we must do, in order to make ourselves worthy of forgiveness.”

“What should I do?”

“What religion are you?”

“I was a Catholic, but now I don’t know. We did vicious things in the name of the Catholic Church.”

“You know what the next steps are?”

“Not really,” Georg said.

“Well, next, you have to make a searching and fearless moral inventory.”

“Oh, I know what I’ve done, and what a horrible mess I’ve made of my life.”

“Have you admitted to God, to yourself, and to somebody else, the exact nature of your wrongs?” Doorn said.

“I...no. I’ve never told anyone else what happened. God knows, of course, and I do.”

“What did you do?”

“It was during the sack. I was in Pappenheim’s troop, and we had a sector of the city to loot. I...I killed some people.”

“You were a soldier.”

“Not like that. I...” Georg stopped.

“What? You have to spit it out, Georg. Tell me.”

“I killed a woman and I killed a little girl. They haunt me and I have been drinking to forget what I did.” Georg sagged with relief that he had finally been able to tell someone what he’d done.

“I cannot judge you for what you did during the sack, Georg,” Doorn said. What you did is between you and the people you injured and God. Have you tried to make amends?”

“How? They’re both dead, and I don’t think I can even find the house again since the sack. I quit the army. I’ve been drunk most of the time since. Things are very different now. Nothing is the same, except for the Dom and St. James’ church, you know.”