Eric Flint - Grantville Gazette.Volume XVI

"Oh! Clever woman! I bet that those swine never thought of you beyond their dinners and the bed! Stupid of them." Wilf bowed to Marta. "Gallant woman. Your trust in us is well founded." He looked around the room. "Rob," he commanded quietly, "take the shotgun and guard position."

Rob nearly tipped his stool over in his haste to comply. He thought he knew what was coming. Reichard grinned, arose, and handed over the shotgun.

"You worry about the door, we'll worry about keeping out of you line of fire," Reichard said, a wide grin on his face.

Rob in the chair, keeping the shotgun pointed at the door. The first time he'd gone horse-trading with Wilf and the others he'd considered a barred door and shutters sufficient safety precautions. Now he found comfort in Wilf's paranoia as expressed by the shotgun and the unobstructed line of fire. The shutters could be pried open from the outside but it would take time, make noise, and neither window was big enough for a man to slip through. As well, Reichard had driven nails through the shutters and it would take a sledgehammer or ax to open them. The chair he sat in was carefully placed. Should someone break down the door the intruder would find the shotgun on his unprotected side. Also, a gun stuck through either of the windows would be hard put to line up on the chair.

The table sat in front of the door, just close enough that a group of men trying to force their way through the door would be stopped by it. On one side the door's swing would be stopped by a large trunk, on the other side sat the shotgun and guard. Up in Poland the previous year there had been a band of men who had decided to relieve the horse traders of their gold. Five of the thieves died before getting off a single shot and the sixth managed only to put his shot into the thatching. There had been no further trouble with thieves on that trip.

"Shall I?" Reichard's voice rumbled as he stood beside the bed.

"Aye, pull it out and while you're at it get rid of those bloody blankets," Wilf directed. "Might as well chuck the mattress out, too. I'm not so fond of lice any more. Especially not lice who've been dining on Schor and his band."

Reichard grabbed the bed frame and pulled it away from the walls. He reached down and produced a leather satchel of the kind the Thurn and Taxis post riders used. It landed on the table with a solid thunk. Reichard turned back to the bed, and gathered the blankets and straw stuffed mattress into one large bundle. He carefully stepped around the table and waited while Wilf snuffed the candles and opened the door. A quick step outside, a heave and the filthy mess disappeared into the night. Another step, back this time, and Reichard was inside and the door closed. The bar dropped into place.

Wilf lit the candles, then grinned and drew the satchel toward him. "Mayhap now we'll see what Schor was up to." Papers spilled out, several letters and two large vellum rolls when he upended the satchel. There was a single clink announcing the presence of a large silver coin. Wilf held the coin up and showed it around. It was only half a coin with a jagged edge. Wilf set it aside and started scanning the letters.

"Reichard, as you've finished with the bed take over guard again. Most of these are in French." Wilf indicated the letters on the table. "Here, Rob, you read French. See what you make of this."

The exchange was quickly made and Rob sat again at the table. After squinting at the first letter in the candlelight he grabbed up his pack and unzipped a side pocket. The small battery-powered lamp lit up the interior of the house remarkably. Behind him he heard Marta gasp but his attention was on the letter. What he read made him reach for the rolls. "Maps, that's what this is about. Maps of the roads around here and on up toward Magdeburg" Rob unrolled one vellum and held it open. Wilf and Dieter crowded around.

"Maps with notes on roads, road conditions, fords, and military patrols." Wilf 's voice was tight.

"Here and here, notes about the villages-supplies of food, livestock numbers, details about the town militias, how many guns, how much gunpowder and shot… Just what a raiding party needs to move quickly." Dieter's face was grim. "Or is it to be more than a raiding party?"

Rob scanned two more of the letters. "I can't tell. Some kind of raiding party. That's my guess from the information asked for-the letters don't say. Nor do they give a time. From what you've said the fact that they are in French doesn't tell us anything, either."

"No," Wilf replied. "Schor read French but none of the others did so it could just be his way of keeping them ignorant. He wasn't the most trusting soul." Pausing, Wilf looked around the room. "I think that this package belongs on Major Stieff's desk as soon as possible. Moonrise should be late tonight but the road is clear. We'll leave before it's up. Two hours, men. Rest and eat."

"My son and I will go with you." Marta's voice was firm, her chin was up and from the look on her face she was expecting to fight for her decision.

Reichard chuckled. "The lass has more spine than her father. Certainly you can come along. I'll don't think any of us want to leave you to be 'sacrificed' again."

"Aye, Reichard," Wilf declared flatly. He looked at her for a moment and then nodded. "Right. By rights Schor and his band's horses are yours. They aren't much but selling them and their tack in Grantville will give you some money. There are several places you can stay-safe places." He stared into the candle flames for a moment and continued. "Reichard and I will ride with you. Dieter and Rob, you two will take the satchel along to Major Stieff as quickly as you safely can."

"You will not need to wait on us. I can ride as well as any man." The voice was proud but wavered a little at the end. Marta stood and began rummaging through a pile of clothing on a bench. She pulled out a man's shirt and a pair of long trousers that were obviously much too large.

"Frau Altboters, I have no doubt about that. The fact is that Dieter and Rob are light riders and have the two fastest horses amongst us. They will make the trip quicker and I confess that I'm getting too old for the kind of breakneck riding those two delight in. We four will follow at a slower pace. Rob, I'd like to keep your sleeping bag with me-for the boy and his mother." A smile played across Wilf's face as he looked down at the sleeping child.

"Sure, Wilf. There's an extra pair of jeans in my pack that should fit you, Frau Altboters, and some socks. My extra boots are probably too big…" Rob grabbed his pack and dug out the promised items. His mind was busily planning how to make the fastest time back to Grantville. A stray thought bubbled up and he glanced at Wilf. What was the man up to? Wilf was usually the one who set a fast pace. He glanced at Reichard and when their eyes met Reichard winked slowly and tilted his head toward Wilf. Wilf was speaking softly to Marta Altboters while helping her find a warm cloak.

"Well," muttered Rob under his breath, "this should be interesting. The man who is impervious to women's charms…"

"Looks to have found a winter rose," Reichard whispered softly.

Major Stieff settled back in his chair. The wondrous warmth of central heating rapidly thawed his frigid feet and hands. The mug of coffee and three of Frau O'Reilly's oatmeal cookies served to warm his insides as well. One of the other men seated in the room coughed and that brought Stieff back to the reason he'd ridden out to the Clark house.

"Don Francisco has your maps and letters. He's set his people puzzling over them. So far the conclusions are that your bandits might have been working for Turenne. Given the number of factions interested in military information in that area the number possible 'paymasters' is quite large. Still, I was asked to pass on thanks to you. First for removing Schor and his friends, second for recognizing that he must have had a compelling reason to stay in the Oberschwartzwald area, and third for bringing the maps and letters back so promptly." Stieff sipped his coffee and nibbled on a cookie, enjoying the moment.