Eric Flint: Grantville Gazette.Volume 22

When she finished the song H.A. said to Henrich, "She is exactly what we are looking for. We'll take her."

Catharina's mouth fell open and was as quickly closed. She was not given the chance to ask the new nursemaid a single question. What could her husband be thinking? She sighed the most exasperated sigh imaginable and said under her breath, " Americans! Who can understand them?" Still it was clear her husband was in a good mood. If she was going to get anything out of this other than the embarrassment of not getting to hire who she wanted, now was the time to get it. "Tio Al, we could use some new clothes for our baby daughter. And with the diapers to be washed the laundress will need some help. I was wondering if we might buy a sewing machine and hire a girl to help out for a bit."

"I don't see why not." H.A. replied.

Catharina smiled. It wasn't the job the girl was expecting but at least she wouldn't have to turn her away after letting her think she would have a place in the household. Horatio was a generous man when he wasn't being stubborn.

On November second, All Soul's Day, H.A. arrived home, as usual, about five minutes before noon for lunch, which would be on the table, piping hot, promptly at twelve o'clock. Catharina was sitting at the dining table, waiting for him. Her air of intense concentration clearly told H.A. that there was something on her mind and that this was not going to be an ordinary lunch.

"What's the matter?" H.A. asked.

"A doctor called this morning and just left. It seems one of the help brought a sick child into the house." Her tone made it clear. Heads would be rolling just as soon as she found out who did it, who knew about it and didn't say anything or who didn't know about it but should have. To H. A. it was obvious that if his wife had her way, all of the resident staff, and maybe the entire staff, would most likely find themselves in need of new jobs. Considering the history of plagues and epidemics and the high mortality rate of young children, her wrath was fueled as much or more by fear than anger. But, still, H.A. was glad he had made it plain that while she could hire mostly as she pleased, he would be reviewing the circumstances and making the final decision before anyone was dismissed from service. Catharina was a loving mother and a thoughtful, compassionate wife. Unfortunately, those traits did not seem to apply when she was dealing with servants.

"I know, dear. I quite agree. We can't have the servants bringing sick children into the house. That's why I sent the doctor around to see him."

H.A. could have grown a tail and horns without startling his wife any more than he did with his calm agreement that was not an agreement at all. "You sent the doctor?! You knew about this?"

Briefly H.A. was worried about his own head rolling. Then he remembered that this was the 1600s, that the money was his, and that she really didn't have much of anywhere else to go if she wanted to continue living in the manner to which she was accustomed. "I've known for months that Maire was unhappy with the care Alois was getting."

"Maire?" While Catharina was satisfied with the care her children were receiving, she had to admit the children were clean, happy and well behaved, she had never gotten completely over not being allowed to hire her first choice. "Her child is supposed to be dead!" The implication was they had been lied to and that she should be dismissed.

"Alois is the grandson of the merchant Henrich. He hired Maire to care for the child and then he brought her here. When she took this job he made arrangements with his usual inn to look after the boy for him. That is where Maire goes when she has time off. As I said, I've known for some time that she was unhappy with how the boy was being looked after."

"I don't think I like our nanny being distracted with other children," Catharina said.

H.A.'s voice took on a firmer resonance. "I don't think I would want my children being raised by someone who could turn her back and let a child she once cared for die just because it was no longer convenient. If she cares for the last lot, then she will care for the next. I like knowing she cares."

"Well, she can't keep it here!"

"Why not? Now, I quite agree that we can't be having the help bring sick children to work, but this is the only home Maire has, so she sure couldn't leave the child with its grandmother, now could she? So I sent a doctor. That last girl you hired, Anna, can look after the boy and still get her work done. She's been unhappy and pining away over not having a child to care for since you hired her. That's the job she thought she was getting after all, wasn't it! Well, now she can quit sneaking upstairs to peek at our kids."

"And just how do you know all of this?" Catharina was suddenly very suspicious. Her husband seemed to know a lot more than he should about the nanny and one of the maids.

H.A. had enough sense not to chuckle. "I talk to Fred."

"Fred? Fredrick? You talk to your valet?"

"Yes, I talk to my valet. He is a very interesting character. He has a bottomless supply of dirty jokes. He's been through some rather incredible circumstances, and he keeps me posted on what is going on in the kitchen, in the stables and in the garrets."

Catharina was mollified on one point but still wound up on the other. "And you think it will be all right to just let the staff raise this merchant's bastard-" She made a correct assumption on the child's linage. "-grandson."

"I don't see why not. We've got way more staff than we need to get the work done. If the child is to hand, then Maire will know he's well and she can quit worrying about him so she will have one less distraction, and she can pay more attention to what she is supposed to be doing. Look, we've got a live-in Irish sitter. Think of Alois as a live-in playmate."

H.A. got that look on his face; the one Catharina was learning to associate with things her husband seemed unable or unwilling to explain, the look he sometimes described as a shit-eating grin. "No. I don't see any reason we can't keep an in-house playmate. But, I will definitely draw the line at keeping bunnies."

Part I

November 1633

A bright sun and a cool breeze made Copenhagen the best place in the world as far as Sergeant Karl Andersen was concerned. He strolled with the three members of his city watch patrol through the open air market. They paused occasionally to gossip with the shopkeepers. Karl anticipated stopping for a large stein of beer with his men when their shift ended in an hour. The day had been relatively peaceful, with only the one pickpocket breaking the calm. The thief had literally fallen into their arms. He ran into them as he rounded a corner to escape from his victim. His years on the city watch and the army had taught Karl to enjoy days like today, since they usually meant the other shoe would drop soon.

He was jolted out of his daydream of beer by an unusual noise. A faint commotion could be heard from ahead of them. "Come on, men," he said and headed toward the noise.

"Sounds like a fight!" The most junior member, Jens, nearly squeaked in his excitement. Everything recently had been blissfully quiet and Jens was anxious for action. Muffled cries sounded, coming from the section of the city where the recent influx of refugees had congregated. Trouble had been brewing there for some time.

"Seems like our afternoon's peace is over, boys. Check your gear; it sounds like the refugees have started to riot. Third time this month. They're getting hungry and the council does nothing, as usual." Karl glanced back to check his men. Gunnar and Jakob were ready, but Jens' scabbard threatened to trip him again. "I thought I told you to get a new strap for that scabbard! Serves you right if it trips you and you get stuck."