Joseph commandeered them to carry out goods suitable for mountain travel. Bearskin coats. Beaver gloves. Backpacks. Alpenstocks.

"What's that for?" William asked. "If it is a walking stick, why is it so long?" The alpenstock was a thick ash staff, perhaps eight feet long, ringed with iron at both ends. It also bore a metal point.

"It is essential in theAlps , young man. It is the only thing that can save you from a dragon."

"A dragon?"

"Indeed. If you shoot a dragon, you will merely annoy it and it will devour you. If you run, the result will be much the same. You must wait bravely until it opens its mouth, and then thrust the alpenstock between its jaws, jamming them open. The dragon will then starve to death." Joseph waited, deadpan, for William's reaction.

"Are dragons common in the mountains? I mean, if they are, wouldn't you need to carry more than one alpenstock?"

"Don't worry. They're rare, so one's enough."

It was then that I returned, as yet ignorant of Joseph's little joke. But I was quite conscious of the ominous pile of gear. "I hope we are going to keep the climbing to a minimum."

"No climbing, sir," Joseph said. "But we also want to keep the slipping to a minimum, so we need these crampoons." He held out devices which looked vaguely like horseshoes, but matched the size and shape of human feet. They were studded with nails, and each was equipped with a leather strap.

"You fasten them under your feet, like so"-he demonstrated-"and now you can walk on ice, if need be."

William tried them on. "Ouch, the bars dig into my feet."

"They take getting used to."

I intervened. "Let's stow them in the saddlebags until we really need them."

We managed to get off to a mid-morning start. We had eight mules, five for our party to ride, and three to carry supplies. Two of these would ultimately be given to Joseph, so he could take back the loaned mountaineering gear after we crossed the Timmelsjoch.

The path, at first, was fairly easy, as we walked along a mountain stream, the Veltina. After perhaps a dozen miles, Joseph motioned us up the left side of the river valley. It was steep and rocky, and the mules became a little balky.

Then we heard a shriek. We Englishmen halted abruptly, and reached for our weapons. "G.o.d's blood, what was that?" I cried.

Joseph had continued up the slope, unperturbed. "The marmot, the mountain squirrel. That was its alarm whistle."

"Can you eat them?" asked Samuel.

Joseph nodded. "They are best caught in April or May, when they have just come out of their winter sleep and are still befuddled." He smacked his lips. "Bop 'em on the head, and then it's dinner time."

The trail now swished back and forth as it climbed further into the mountains. Now and then, we found ourselves in light fog and had to slow down even more.

It was after one such patch that we had our first clear indication of how high we were. No trees.

"Where are the trees?" William asked.

"From here on up there are no trees, until we are over the pa.s.s and descend into theTyrol ," said Joseph.

He pointed to the relatively flat section ahead, limestone carpeted with white wild flowers, theedelweiss .

"These are theAlps ."

"I thought theAlps were the mountain peaks."

"No, no. They're the high pastures. Although the shepherds don't usually come this way."

I thought that strange. "If the shepherds don't use this path, who does?"

"Folks who like to move goods from one country to another with a minimum of fuss."

Smugglers, in other words. "How much further up do we have to go to reach the pa.s.s?" I asked.

Joseph leaned on his alpenstock. "Let me think. Oh, we are perhaps three-quarters of the way to the top."

Samuel whistled. "And I thought the Kinder Scout back home was high."

"What's the Kinder Scout?" asked Joseph.

"The highest point in the Peak District, back in Derbyshire. But it's just a hillock compared to theseAlps .".

Before we left this resting place, William collected some of the edelweiss, to be dried and pressed, and pasted into his journal as souvenirs. They didn't grow in the lowland.

We trudged on, weaving higher and deeper into the mountain range. A golden eagle soared overhead.

At last the trail opened up a bit, and leveled out somewhat. Ahead of us was a valley of sorts. Not a river valley, merely a saddle point between two great peaks. Patches of snow lay helter-skelter on either side of the trail ahead.

"We are at the top of the pa.s.s," said Joseph. "There is the Jochkopfl, behind us, on the right, and there the Wurmkogl, ahead on the left." Their tops were lost in the clouds.

We set up camp under an overhang. Snow started to fall, and we all crowded closer to the fire.

"Good thing we brought firewood with us," William said. "There is not a branch, or even a twig, up here."

The next morning, the valley floor was completely white. We put on our crampoons, and continued our journey. The snow sparkled in the sun and crunched under our feet as we walked.

As the oldest, I was the first to tire and I decided to ride my mule, not lead it. It was a mistake. Off to one side, a small slab of snow slid down with awhoomp . It came nowhere near us, but my misbegotten mule bolted. I held on for dear life, and my companions pursued us.

The mule halted abruptly at a small declivity; I sailed off the cursed beast and into the hollow.

The next thing I knew, I was staring up at William and Joseph. I hurt everywhere and I was lying on a bed of snow, quite bemused.

"What are you doing down here, William? For that matter, how did I get down here?"

"The mule threw you," he said. "Joseph slid down, and I followed. It was harder than I expected, but I made it to the bottom. Joseph said that he thought you were knocked silly for a moment, but there was deep-ish snow at the bottom and that cushioned you. I was so relieved when you finally stirred. How are you feeling?"

Samuel yelled "watch out below," and hurled down an alpenstock, the rope tied firmly to it. Joseph picked it up and brought it to me. I looked at it in puzzlement.You take a fall like that and see how quickly you come to your senses.

"All right, Mister Hobbes. Take hold of this staff with both hands. Your lordship, you put one arm under his and the other on your own alpenstock. Take it nice and slow." He looked up, and raised his voice.

"Start pulling now."

After some pushing and pulling, we made it out of the hole.

"I think I would like to call it a day," I said.

Joseph nodded. "Just a little further on is a good place for a camp." When we got there, Samuel stripped the packs off one of the extra mules and transferred them to my erstwhile mount. "I think you would do better with this one, Mister Hobbes. Less temperamental."

"Thank you, Samuel. Right now I would rather feed my last mule to a pack of wolves."

William was too keyed up to rest. He found a gentle slope, and practiced theglissade , which is what Joseph called the slide. William held his alpenstock by his side so that it trailed behind him. Then he bent his knees and pushed off. He slid rapidly down, moving the stick back and forth like a rudder, and was at the bottom within seconds.

"Yahoo!" He ran back to the top.

I was too tired to protest.

"He is a truebergler , a mountain man, in the making," Joseph said.

"It is here that I must leave you," said our guide. You follow this stream, it is called the Otztaler Ach, down to Solden, Langenfeld and Otz. Shortly after Otz, it joins theInn ."

"We don't want to go anywhere nearInnsbruck ," I said.

"No problem. You turn left, and go up theInn valley. Soon you come to the turn off for Imst. It is on your right. It is a market town, so you should have no trouble finding it."

My plan, as I told William, was to cross theFernPa.s.s , and descended to Lermoos and Reutte. From there we would follow the Lech downstream to the city ofAugsburg . We could rest there a few days and find out what the Swedish and Habsburg armies were up to, and how best to pa.s.s the lines. I a.s.sumed that we could just join a merchant caravan; trade continued even in time of war, at least when the armies weren't on the move.

William was still under the impression that we would remain on the great road toHamburg . It pa.s.sed north through Nurnberg in Franconia andErfurt in Saxony, and finally curved northwest to end on theNorth Sea coast. In fact, after we crossed the Thuringerwald north of Nurnberg, we would swing east to Grantville.

We said our goodbyes and Joseph, leading two mules, began his return journey. He left behind one alpenstock; William had insisted on buying it. "We might encounter dragons in theFernPa.s.s ," he said.

And that's when I learned of Joseph's little tall tale.

In Imst, we came to a roadblock. Obviously the authorities didn't want the plague carried fromInnsbruck to other parts of theTyrol . They were suspicious of us even though we came from the south; they thought we might have tried to circle around the town. That's when William's alpenstock and pressed edelweiss flowers came in handy, as they were proof that we had come across the Timmelsjoch, avoidingInnsbruck . TheBrenner Pa.s.s is too low to find edelweiss and not steep or snowy enough to need an alpenstock.

Nurnberg June, 1633 I watched William as he happily munched on hislebkuchen . He was lucky to find this spiced honey cake for sale, even though it was one of Nurnberg's famous specialties. While the honey was still readily available in the woods surrounding the city, the Thirty Years' War intermittently interrupted the flow of spices into the bakeries.

Why, Nurnberg itself had been threatened by Wallenstein's army the previous year, until Gustavus Adolphus won the battle of Alte Veste. With American aid.

This was not, of course, the first time William had heard about the Americans. But Nurnberg was a part of the new Confederated Princ.i.p.alities of Europe, ruled by Gustavus Adolphus and supported by Grantville. We were repeatedly reminded of the influence of the people from the future. For example, William had seen several strange gadgets in the shops, which, said the merchants, had come from Grantville. Others were local copies of "up-time" designs. William showed great interest in these devices.

One afternoon we decided to visit Nurnberg's tennis court. We were both avid fans. After a hard-fought set, we retired to the gallery. There, William confronted me, this time intellectually rather than physically.

"Mister Hobbes, I have been thinking. About this Grantville we keep hearing about. It's a city from the future!"

"That's what we've been told."

"It just suddenly occurred to me. That they must have history books. And we must be in them! Not you or me personally, of course, but our country. Think what we can learn from them."

I waited, without saying anything, but I was pleased by his insight.

"Mister Hobbes, I know you have your instructions from my lady mother, but this is our chance to steal a march on our rivals. As the earl ofDevonshire , I must insist we go to this Grantville. You can tell my mother that I forced you to go, that I said that I would go alone if I had to."

I couldn't help it, I started laughing. When I collected myself, I explained. "It does appear that you have forced my hand . . . to tell you that what you demand has been our goal, our secret goal, all along."

"What?"

"This whole trip, although you didn't know it, you have been on the road to Grantville."

None So Blind

By David Carrico

Magdeburg January, 1635 The slap knocked Willi sprawling, eyes watering with pain. He had to bite his lip hard to keep from crying out.

"Five nothings!" Willi felt Uncle's hand grab the back of his rags and haul him up. The hand shook him so hard he felt like a pea rattling in a cup. "You spend all day on the streets and all you bring me are three pins and two worthless quarteredHalle coins!"

Willi dropped to the floor again. His head was spinning, but his hand had fallen across his stick. He instinctively grasped it, then pulled it to his side. It took a moment to rise to all fours. As soon as his head settled some, he pulled himself up on the stick.

"I'm sorry, Uncle, but the place where I was, not many people put coins in my bowl." He hesitated.

"And . . . and I think someone took money from my bowl. It kind of sounded like it."

"What? Did you see who it was? Why didn't you stop . . ." Uncle's voice died away as he realized that no, Willi did not see who the culprit was and therefore could not stop him. "Hmm. Well . . . I guess that might not be your fault. But you'll have to do better in the future. Here." Something thumped into Willi's chest and dropped to the floor. "That's all you've earned today."

Willi knelt down again and felt around the dirty floor. Within a moment his fingers encountered what he expected to find-a dried hunk of bread. It was more than he had expected. When Uncle felt he had been cheated, those in his family were more apt to receive curses and blows than blessings and food.

Willi gathered the bread up. He would go hungry tonight, he knew, for it wasn't much more than a crust.

It took Willi a moment to peer around and figure out from the play of light and dark which way his corner was. It took some time to make his way there, stepping with care and feeling his way with his stick. At least none of the family was in a mood to push things or plant feet in his way in the hope he would trip tonight. In the last four years, he had provided that entertainment many times, often falling helplessly to the ground with cruel laughter ringing in his ears.

Willi's blanket was still where he had left it, wadded up behind an old trunk so that no one would notice it. Threadbare and full of holes though it was, he did feel warmer with it wrapped around his shoulders.

The winter was not even half over, and he felt like he hadn't been warm since forever.

The bread was eaten slowly, one small bite at a time; partly because it was so dry and hard that it took a lot of chewing to make it possible to swallow, and partly to make it last longer. It would at least give Willi the illusion of having enjoyed a full meal-a most uncommon experience in his short life.

The last bit was being swallowed as Willi heard someone coming toward him amidst the noise of the other children chattering and yelling. He c.o.c.ked his head to one side, then smiled as he recognized the step. "Erna," he said.

"How do you know that?" the girl demanded as she took his hand and with care set a small pottery cup in it. "How do you always know it's me?"

"You walk different." Willi sipped the water in the cup.