Grantville Gazette-Volume XIII

  "Yossie!" Yitzach called, as Yossie ran back toward his friends.

  "I expected you on Tuesday, what took you so long?"

  "It's partly my fault," Yitzach said. "I wanted to visit Kissingen."

  "We were worried. There are rumors of an army coming."

  "I know," Yitzach said. "Herr Gutkind of Hildburghausen told us of force coming south in the Ilm valley. Do you think Grantville can stand against a tercio?"

  "The Americans seem confident." Yossie turned to walk beside the wagon. "To be sure they will win they want everyone to learn to shoot a gun. We do some shooting practice at the mine every day."

  "So now you are becoming a soldier?" Moische arched his eyebrows.

  Yossie laughed. "Hardly. Most of our practice shooting is with toy guns, they call them bee-bee guns, and they shoot a ball the size of a grain of wheat. Tell me about your trip!"

  "Taking glassware from Grantville was a wonderful idea," Yitzach said. "But wait until my wife can hear as well. Right now, I'd better round up our cattle."

  "Only four?" Yossie asked as Yitzach rode away.

  "We sold the others to Herr Mobley," Moische said. "Now that there are only two cows, Yitzach can be a lazy herdsman. Climb up, the wagon is light."

  "I see four animals."

  "The calves will follow their mothers," Moische said. "We had three more cows with calves, but we lost a calf on the road." He paused. "Reb Yitz is right, though. I want my wife to hear our tales. Tell me about Grantville."

  "I am working at the mine, apprenticed to a Saxon smith."

  "Apprenticed?" Moische said. "Since when is a Jew an apprentice, and to a Saxon, no less? And aren't you a little old for an apprenticeship?"

  "He doesn't know I'm a Jew, and I don't think the miner's guild cares."

  "The miners guild? Since when have guilds permitted Jews?"

  "The UMWA is a very strange guild, but yes, I am a member now."

  For the next few minutes, Yossie talked about his work at the mine smithy. After they had turned off the main road onto Deborah, Moische changed the subject.

  "Reb Guildsman Yosef," he said, only half mockingly, "please tell me how my wife is doing."

  "She is well," Yossie said. "Frau Adducci is working hard to teach the women English, and she seems eager to learn German."

  "How is Herr Adducci?"

  Yossie frowned. It had been obvious that Randolph Adducci and his wife were not in full agreement about taking in a refugee group. She seemed convinced that she was doing God's will, and that the three empty bedrooms that her children had once occupied were there for the needs of the homeless. Her husband, on the other hand, had acted quite unhappy about the strangers who had moved into his house.

  "Randolph Adducci is still cross much of the time," Yossie said. "but things are better. I think he was unhappy before the Ring of Fire. He is old, and it seems that he is ill. He complains that his feet hurt."

  "He is sick?" Moische asked.

  "It was only when we started eating with the Adduccis that we found out. Frau Adducci can eat anything, but Herr Adducci must avoid all honey and sweet fruits, and he must have a set amount of bread or flour in every meal."

  "You are eating with the Adduccis?"

  "Yes. Frau Adducci liked the smell of Chava's cooking, and so they began to work together in the big kitchen. Chava is happy not to be confined to the small kitchen that the Adduccis call the bar."

  "But how does she manage to keep things kosher?"

  "She's very strict about kashrus, so she boiled all of the Adducci cooking pots and silverware, and she only uses your crockery at the table. Chava says that Frau Adducci keeps a very clean kitchen. She doesn't know that we keep kosher. I think she sees the care Chava takes as just a foreign kind of cleanliness. To her, it is just one more strange difference between the American world and our world.

  "I think it was eating together that helped Herr Adducci. I don't think he'll ever learn German, but he gave me this lunch pail."

  "What is it?" Moische asked.

  "It is for carrying my noon meal to the mine. Herr Adducci was a miner back when the mine here in Deborah was still open."

  When they reached the Adducci house, they had time for only the briefest of greetings. Their first priority was to take the horses and cattle to pasture. They'd gotten permission to use a fenced field above the upper village for their goats before they moved to Deborah. The sloping field had once been an open mine pit, or so they'd been told, but nothing visible to Yossie and his friends hinted at that history.

  Moische's wife Frumah was outside looking over the wagon when they got back from the pasture. "What are the barrels?" she asked.

  "Wine from Kissingen," Moische said, pointing to one barrel, "and grain," he added, pointing to the others. "We came east with a full load, but we sold the rest in town, along with three cows and two calves."

  "You went all the way to Kissingen?" Frumah asked. "Was that prudent?"

  "We thought so at the time," Moische said. "On the way home, we thought we might have made a mistake. The rumors of war seem to be chasing us. Where are the others?"

  "In the kitchen. Shabbos is coming and you men had best get ready."

  "And what of Rav Yakov?"

  "He is teaching at the Grantville cheder, what they call the elementary school. He teaches German to some of the Americans. He is only supposed to work there for two hours after the noon meal every day, but they have a library. He should be here soon." Frumah paused. "Enough talk. You men put things away and get ready."

  By sunset, the wagon had been unloaded and parked in the vacant half of the Adducci garage. Everyone had bathed and changed into their good clothes, and the men had convened for their prayers.

  Worship was difficult in the Adducci household. They didn't want the Adduccis to know that they were Jews, so they said their prayers in the bedroom that Moische and Frumah were using.

  The crucifixes in every room of the Adducci household posed a second problem. Plain Christian crosses were bad enough, but these had statues of the Christian God on them, and it was impossible to see them as anything less than a blatant violation of the commandment forbidding graven images. They covered the crucifixes when they could, but they were careful to leave them exposed whenever the Adduccis might see them.

  There were ten people around the dinner table that night, Paulette and Randolph Adducci, Rabbi Yakov, Yitzach Kissinger, his wife Chava and daughter Gitele, Moische Frankfurter and his wife Frumah, and Yossie and his sister Basiya.

  Eating with the Adduccis was awkward, and the fact that it was a Sabbath dinner made it doubly so. They couldn't chant Kiddush properly over the wine to start their Sabbath dinner. That would reveal who they were. At every meal, the Adduccis added to their discomfort by saying a prayer in the name of the the Christian God before they ate.

  Language at the table was another problem. When Randolph Adducci had difficulty understanding what they said, he would complain that he couldn't follow their jabber.

  "How was your trip?" Paulette asked.

  "Wir, we go," Yitzach started. "Montag, to Schleüsingen we go by Schwarza way. Zweitag to Meiningen."

  "Speak English," Randolph insisted.

  Paulette sighed. "Dear, if you would just try. Isaac said they went on the Schwarza road to Schleüsingen a week ago Monday, and then to Meiningen on Tuesday."

  "Where is this Slushing place?" Randolph asked.

  "Dear," Paulette said. "it is a town west of here. Am I right, Moses?"

  "Ya, und Meiningen is more west."

  It took several more rounds to learn that the travelers had reached Neustadt on Wednesday. On Thursday, Yitzach had taken the wagon onward to Kissingen. Meanwhile Moische stayed in Neustadt finding a good price for the glassware they'd brought from Grantville.

  "In Neustadt, I hear of Soldaten," Moische said. "So, wir, we go here on south way, Königshofen und Hildburghausen. In Hildburghausen, I hear Soldaten make one tercio. They comin
g south."

  "What's a terci?" Randolph asked.

  "A tercio. Three Tausend Soldaten," Yakov answered. "One Tausend with guns. Two Tausend with Speissen."

  "With what?" Paulette asked?

  "A Speisse. A Pfahl mit a spitze," Yakov answered, pantomiming a two handed thrust with a pike.

  "Spears," Randolph said. "They'd protect the muskets while they reload. Where is this tercio thing?"

  "In north, coming south," Moische answered. "Zwei Tage, a Woche."

  "Two days or a week!" Paulette said, looking worried. "Can Grantville handle that many?"

  "Probably," Randolph said. "Our guns are a damn sight better than anything these krauts have, and the emergency committee is on the ball."

  As the Adduccis began speaking to each other, their English was too fast for Yossie to follow.

  "People are going to get hurt," Paulette said. "You heard what happened to Dan Frost and Harry Lefferts."

  "Damn, I wish I could do something." Randolph said. "If my damned feet didn't hurt so."

  Paulette frowned. "Calm down, Randolph."

  "Calm down?" he said, turning red. "There's a God damned army coming this way!" He paused, frowning. "Paulette, you phone Tony and Bernadette after dinner, see what they know about this."

  Yitzach leaned toward Yossie. "What are they saying?" he asked, in a low tone.

  Yossie had no answer, and as the Adduccis' discussion continued, he understood less and less of what they said.

  After he'd eaten, Yossie and Moische went out to say the grace after meals under the porch light. Bentsching privately to himself drove questions of the approaching army from his mind, but it intensified another burden. Chanting the Birkas quietly after the noon meal at the mine had not bothered him, but the Sabbath Grace was different. From the opening words of Psalm 126 to the closing prayer for peace, Yossie ached to chant the long prayer with his companions around the table.

  "So," Moische said, after they had pocketed their bentschers. "We will soon see what these Americans can do. You seem less worried about our news than our hosts. Why?"

  "I told you about the shooting practice at the mine. I have seen the Americans shoot. Bang, bang, bang, with no pause to reload, and every shot hits the center of the target. That was with a gun that the Americans said was a toy. How did you lose a calf?"

  "We gave it to a refugee family."

  "You just gave it away?"

  "I was young, now I am old," Moische said, quoting part of the prayer they had just said.

  Nothing more needed to be said. Yossie knew the Hebrew by heart. ". . . and I have never looked on one who is just and forsaken and let his children go begging for bread."

  After a pause, Moische continued in a wry tone. "Besides, they might have robbed us if we hadn't given them the calf."

  "Moses!" Paulette called, from inside. "Telephone."

  Yossie followed his companion inside, curious. He'd seen a telephone used several times, but he'd never used one himself. Moische looked awkward as he took the strange instrument from Paulette, and for the next several minutes he listened and then spoke, telling again the stories he'd heard on the road.

  After he handed the telephone back to Paulette, he looked dazed. "That was odd."

  "Who did you talk to?" Frumah asked.

  "That woman Bernadette, Paulette's daughter. And someone else, an American. They wanted to hear what we had heard about the soldiers."

  "Did they tell you anything?"

  "Yes. They already know they will face a tercio. They think it will attack Badenburg soon. That is on the road from the Ilm valley to Grantville. She said that we should not worry. They have been expecting something like this to happen, and they have been preparing for it."

  7th of Tamuz, 5391 (July 7, 1631)

  Most of the week following the battle at Badenburg was uneventful. Yossie's work at the mine continued uninterrupted. Yitzach and Moische did set off on another mercantile trip west. After the success of their first trip, Moische had decided to send a letter to his cousin Shlomo in Frankfort, inviting him to join them.

  The news of the victory and of the huge number of prisoners was certainly interesting. Every evening, Yossie and Yakov shared what they had learned at the mine and at the elementary school, but the news had little direct effect on their lives.

  Monday, a week after the battle, Yossie got on the bus expecting things to continue as they had. Thomas was happy to see him and began talking about the celebration the town had after the battle.

  Thomas was still talking as they got off of the bus. "Michael Stearns, the President of the UMWA was in command at the battle of Badenburg, and he had the place of honor in the procession. What I do not understand is why the Jewess they call Becky was also there. The Americans cheered her as if she was as much of a hero as Herr Stearns."

  Yossie knew of Grantville's court Jews, members of the famous Abrabanel family. He'd heard Americans speaking of Rebecca Abrabanel, and he was curious to hear what Thomas might have to say about her.

  Several mine officials were waiting for them as the bus emptied, so Yossie had no chance to probe Thomas's feelings about Jews. Yossie had begun to recognize some of the officials. Quentin Underwood was there, along with Ken Hobbs, representing the Miner's Guild. Ron Koch's German was by far the best, so as usual, he was their spokesman.

  "Men," he said, as the empty bus pulled away. "You know we defeated an army a week ago, and we took hundreds of prisoners. We released most of them. I talked to some of them, to see if they could work at the mine. As soon as the bus gets back, we will welcome them.

  "You remember your first days here. Now, you are the ones with experience. To these new workers, you are going to be seen as Americans. Be warned, though. All of them were soldiers, and all of them suffered a terrible defeat a week ago. They are tough, but some of them are still stunned by what happened.

  "Many of our new workers are Catholics, and most of you are Protestants. We want you to remember one thing. Our law, our official policy and the rules of the United Mine Workers of America all agree. We do not draw lines between men based on the color of a man's skin, based on his religion, or based on the land of his origin. In our eyes, all men are equal, Catholics, Protestants or Jews. I want you to remember this."

  * * *

  Yossie's first job every morning was to fire up the forge. The coal they were burning was difficult to light, so Yossie began by lighting a wood fire on the hearth and then he gradually built it up with coal.

  Thomas had mixed feelings about the forge the Americans had built. He loved the electric blower that did away with the need for a bellows, but he disliked the coal fire and the sulfur smell it gave off. But even Thomas had to admit that once it was burning properly, the coal fire was good enough to use.

  Yossie had built a perfect pile of burning coal perched over the air jet from the blower when two strangers arrived at the forge.

  "Thomas Schmidt? Joseph Hanauer?" the older of the two asked, speaking with a backwoods Bavarian accent. "They said we was to work with you."

  "And you are?"

  "Karl, and this is Fritz."

  "Are you smiths?" Thomas asked.

  "Till a week ago, we were soldiers," Karl said. "I'd a pike, Fritz a musket."

  Thomas glared at them. "What help can you offer here?"

  "I was a farrier's apprentice before the army, I've shod plenty of horses since."

  "That's something," Thomas said, grudgingly. "And what about you?" he asked turning to the other man.

  "Fritz can fix anything," Karl said. "I seen him take apart a wheel lock pistol and put it right."

  "Can he speak for himself?"

  Fritz nodded. "I speak," he said, slowly and precisely. "And I can't fix everything. These Grantvillers have stuff I can't figure out."

  "What's wrong with him?" Thomas asked.

  "Bit his tongue in battle," Karl said, with a bit of a grin. "Day ago, 'twas big as a sausage."

  "Let's g
et to work," Thomas said. "Fritz, you tend the fire, try to keep a good mound of coal burning. Add new coal as soon as we take the work off the fire to start hammering, and keep the coal mounded over the air flow so that it is burning hot and clean by the time we finish hammering. Karl, can you follow hammer signals?"

  Karl looked baffled, so Thomas had to explain how he would use his small hammer to direct the forging, and then he and Yossie demonstrated. Thomas, as the master smith, held the piece they were forging on the anvil while Yossie swung the long-handled sledge hammer. Thomas used a small hammer to direct each blow of the sledge, tapping the work to show where and how to strike it.