Eric Flint: Grantville Gazette.Volume XII

"Uhh, do you speak English?"

"Ja!"

"Good! What's your name?"

The fellow hesitated slightly, a worried look on his face. "Ja?" he replied hopefully.

This isn't working.

"Okay, thanks." Pam moved away from the young man trying not to see his disappointment. She felt sorry for everyone here; desperation was heavy in the air. I need someone with at least a little English; my German is just not good enough yet. Actually, I can hardly speak it at all. That's got to change.

A determined-looking red-cheeked woman trundled up to her. She appeared to be in her late fifties but was probably only around forty. The hardships of this century could age people so quickly. Her round face was stern but had an honest look to it.

"I can English," she announced in a low, confident tone.

Pam smiled meekly. "I'm sorry, but I need a man, a herr… someone strong."

"Strong man." The woman nodded at her. "I know." With a business-like bow the woman motioned for Pam to follow her. Pam did so, not really having a better plan. The woman led her over to a brick wall where a man was leaning. A wide-brimmed hat the color of dirty white socks that may have once had some kind of shape was pulled down over his eyes.

"Gerbald." She pointed at the man. 'Gerbald!" she announced loudly to get his attention.

The man slowly looked up, peering out from beneath the uneven felt brim, looking first at the German woman then at Pam. His eyes were a beautiful cobalt blue within a woven nest of deep wrinkles. He stood slowly up from the wall and gave a nod to the approaching women.

"Hello. I am Gerbald." The pitch of his voice had a pleasant depth, there was weariness there, but Pam heard confidence as well.

"Gerbald strong!" the woman proclaimed with a proud smile.

Gerbald chuckled. "My wife, Dore." He leaned his head toward the determined woman. "Dore is also strong." His eyes creased further with amusement, the remarkable blue shining out. Dore stood taller and moved proudly to his side.

I like them. Pam smiled back at the pair. "I'm Pam. It's good to meet you."

Gerbald was around five foot eight inches tall with wide shoulders and a solid-looking build. He wore a battered sage green long wool coat crossed by a wide brown leather belt, mustard breeches and knee high brown leather boots; an ensemble which made Pam think Robin Hood! What looked to be a saber hung at his side; there was little doubt that he had been a military man of some sort. Pam thought he might be around fifty-five but knew he was likely older. In any case, he seemed to be hale and in good health and the sort of man that other men don't trifle with lightly. Her smile broadened.

"Were you a soldier?"

"Yes, a long time. Not now. Good soldier, not bad man." He looked a bit worried that his former profession might not go over well with this female potential employer.

"Soldier my job before, but I am tired. I don't like fight anymore, too sad. Peace." He looked at Pam hoping she would understand him.

Pam's instincts seemed sure that he was sincere and very likely legitimate in his claims. There were a lot of men like this in these times, men who would have been farmers or carpenters if not swept up by the omnipresence of war. Gerbald cocked his head at her, one eyebrow lifting the brim of his monstrously ridiculous hat slightly upward.

"You… you need soldier?"

"Yes. Well, not exactly. I need a guard. Someone to go with me outside of Grantville, into the forests and fields. I am looking for. .. things, in the countryside. You would guard me. Stop bad men from hurting me."

Gerbald nodded. "Yes, guard. I can do."

"Great!" She looked at the couple and realized there were a lot more things to discuss-how much would she pay Gerbald? Where did the two of them live? I'll figure it out. I've done well today. Pam was exceptionally pleased at succeeding in her mission, she was sure she had done better than she could have hoped. "Well, Gerbald, Dore, let me buy you a beer and we'll talk some more about the job." And so they headed for the Thuringen Gardens, a trio of contentment.

Over several rounds of the Gardens' fine beer, Pam learned a little more about Gerbald and Dore. He, like so many men of the age and region, had been a soldier for hire, and Dore his camp follower mate. He had left his last employer because his captain had ordered him to do something that Gerbald did not want to do, something he wouldn't go into any detail about. The name Magdeburg came to mind, but Pam did not press the issue. She knew he was being purposefully vague regarding many details of his soldiering career; it was perhaps better she didn't know. Dore sat stone-faced and silent during this part of the conversation. She was plainly deeply devoted to the man. Pam didn't hold their secrets against them; how could someone like her really understand the horrors that these people had faced in this war-crazed world they were born to? Her gut told her she could trust them and so she would.

Pam had asked around at the Research Institute about the going rate for German laborers in Grantville. She had told her co-workers that she wanted some odd jobs done around her house and yard; she was still intent on keeping her birdwatching habit very quiet. Why do I do that? Just because Trent didn't get me doesn't mean they won't. She pushed the thought out of her head, there would be time to indulge in 'Pam analyzes Pam' later. Pam made a tidy wage in the current economy, her up-time lab work experience and scientific knowledge had significantly increased in value here under these extreme circumstances. She was useful and in high demand. Now that's a new concept.

She offered Gerbald a little more than the current going rate, much to Dore's obvious delight. She only needed him part time and wanted to keep him around-the hiring process was not a performance she wanted to repeat any time soon! The deal was made and settled with a handshake. It turned out that the pair had lodging in a group shelter not too far from her place, which would be convenient. This news came as a relief to Pam. Her house was so cramped even for one that she had not been asked to take in refugees the last winter and besides, she very much valued her privacy. Gerbald and Dore walked her home so they could see where she lived and Pam went to bed, excited about the next day's birdwatching.

Pam got to the institute early the next morning. She worked like a whirlwind. She felt infused with boundless energy; now she was going to be able to go out past the rim and be as sure as anyone could be of her safety. There was no doubt that Gerbald could handle anything short of an army of bandits. She didn't take a lunch break and left around one, claiming she needed to go supervise the workers at her place. The days were getting long now and they would have plenty of time to hike out to her intended region of exploration and back before dusk. Pam's house was on the outskirts of Grantville at the northwest edge of town. The new northwest, that is. She and Gerbald would walk some gravel back roads and paths that didn't see much traffic these days.

When she arrived home, flushed from excitement and the extra speed she had put into her gait, she found Gerbald and Dore standing at attention on the road beside her front yard's edge.

"Hello, come on, come in!' She bustled up the incline of the long walk to her front door with them in tow. She had a big yard and a small house, just the way she liked it. She had kept her smaller back garden a private paradise of flowers and shrubs for her birds while the spacious front yard was now filled with row after row of rapidly growing sunflowers (Her up-time landlord would hate that!) watched over by an empty aluminum laundry tree. Except for a few rows of useful vegetables it had all gone to sunflowers this year. Her former landlord had mercifully been left up-time in Fairmont-the place was going to really be hers now and she could do with it as she pleased. She wondered sometimes if the bossy old coot had ever tried to drive out to Grantville on a mission to crab at her about keeping the lawn mowed precisely to his picky specifications only to find a chunk of this time's Thuringia in place of his property-that would be a surprise! Now available in Marion County: Real German farm, quaint out buildings, wooded setting. Pam figured they would never know.