But working for Brandenburg would take him off his beloved Imperial Road. If necessary, maybe things could be managed, but he would rather not.

Or maybe he could hire on with a freight line. The official postal system carried letters, sometimes whole sealed bags full of letters, but it didn't carry packages. If he located a long-haul line that carried from Frankfurt to Erfurt, he would move back and forth along the road more slowly, but at least he would move.

What would customers pay for the transport of light packages? Light enough that a man on horseback could carry several? Packages that did not really need a wagon and team, but were too bulky for a mail bag? Urgent packages?

Martin laughed, imagining a woodcut that depicted him on a horse with ten or a dozen lightweight packages tied to his back and his saddle, sticking out in all different directions. One hanging from his ear, perhaps. For a lot of horses, that would take some getting used to. A man would need the right kind of horse, steady and reliable.

What kind of customer would want a small or light package, too big for the mail bags but not heavy or bulky enough to require a freight wagon, taken somewhere fast? Who would want it enough to pay a tenth or twelfth of the cost of running the route and still leave the rider a decent profit?

Maybe there wouldn't be a new post office monopoly. The king of Sweden might not object to establishing one, but the Grantvillers were very enthusiastic about what they called "free enterprise."

Something to think about. Some way to keep riding the Imperial Road.

End of the Road?

Gelnhausen, August 1633 Simon zur Sichel came into Gelnhausen from a resupply stop in Frankfurt as he made his rounds. He found that Zivka and Riffa were gone and n.o.body in the community knew where.

When, they could guess, Zorline Neumark told him.

She and Meier zum Schwan were going back to Frankfurt. That was the general gossip. Meier had a business to run and there did not seem to be any sign that the feud in the Kronberg family would abate any time soon.

Samuel Wohl and Hindle Kalman had sent their daughter Jachant to cousins in Worms. The parents ofFeyel's fiance had made that a condition of continuing the betrothal.

When he found out that a teamster had emptied the cottage under the sign of the sickle out neatly and driven away with the goods, Simon started to feel much better.

No one in the community knew who the teamster had been.

He asked at the post office. "Veit Huss," the postmaster said. "He drives from Fulda to Frankfurt. He was on his way to Fulda when he drove out that day."

Simon zur Sichel decided to head for Fulda. If Zivka had gone there, she would have had a good reason.

"If you are going," the Hanauer rabbi said, "may I accompany you? I would like to observe the changes that the up-timers have made in Fulda for myself."

Barracktown bei Fulda, September 1633 The Barracktown Council agreed to accept Simon zur Sichel as one of the approved resident sutlers. He requested permission to throw out the front of the cottage by about ten feet to make the front room into a "general store." After some discussion of the concept, the council, chaired by Dagmar, agreed to the proposition.

Menahem ben Elnathan and Simon zur Sichel discussed the heavy responsibilities of matrimony with David Kronberg, who said that he would be quite ecstatic to a.s.sume them, thank you. At least, he qualified, if they involved Riffa zur Sichel.

Then he asked Simon what name he intended to carry now that his family was no longer living in the sickle cottage in Gelnhausen. This proved to be such a successful distraction that it spared him from further embarra.s.sment for all the rest of the evening.

Zivka did the same for Riffa, who indicated a high degree of reciprocal enthusiasm.

David said that he did not think that his parents would agree. The rabbi said that if they were patient, he would see to it, so they all relaxed.

Martin Wackernagel and the rabbi continued their discussion of stencils and duplicating machines. Both of them talked to Sergeant Hartke and his wife Dagmar about pamphlets. Dagmar recalled the Menig-Bodamer connection. Wackernagel recalled the Bodamer-Schlitz-Mangold chuckling convention.

Gertrud Hartke and Jeffie Garand recalled the odd-looking contraption that was on the stand at Menig's paper mill the evening they had walked up to check if Emrich and Liesel were okay. They hadn't thought about the room being full of stacks of paper at the time, Jeffie admitted, since a person really expected to see stacks of paper in a paper mill. Then someone remembered seeing Mangold at Menig's.

Jeffie said that he thought he had better tell Derek-Major Utt, that was.

Major Utt got them an appointment with the NUS administrator, Wesley Jenkins. Not "one of these days," but first thing on his calendar the very next morning, even though the whole day was scheduled fora big celebration of the up-timers' first down-time "airplane."

Fulda, September 1633 The NUS authorities arrested a lot of people, of course. First Jodocus Menig, who identified Karl von Schlitz as the person who paid for the import of the duplicating machine and stencils. They could not arrest him, of course, or his sons, since Schlitz, although in the CPE, was not in the NUS.

Captain Wiegand felt considerable relief that the miscreant had not been someone from Fulda. That lasted until Emrich Menig said that, by the way, they had just been getting ready to run off another set of stencils. He and Liesel Bodamer had made them, he reported proudly. They had followed the instructions in the manual and been entirely successful. These stencils had been brought to them by Lorenz Mangold.

Wiegand's apprehension lasted until someone read the ma.n.u.script, which proved to contain not anti-Semitic tracts but rather some of the worst heroic poetry ever written. Andrea Hill made some rather biting comments on the probable impact of "duplicating machines" on vanity publishing in the seventeenth century.

Wiegand's relief lasted until a search of Mangold's house, authorized before anybody got around to reading the ma.n.u.script found at Menig's, turned up several crates of pamphlets that were virulently anti-Semitic. And some more which advocated the resumption of witchcraft trials. Plus quite a few which were just weird. Nothing indecent, though. Mangold appeared to be downright prudish.

To the great disappointment of almost everybody else, Wes Jenkins refused to authorize the use of torture, even under these circ.u.mstances. Even though they pointed out that it was perfectly legal under theConst.i.tutio Criminalis Carolina , which remained the law of the CPE because n.o.body had ever gotten around to repealing it. Wes said it wasn't legal under American law and that was that. And, moreover, it wasn't a capital offense anyway, as far as he knew, just to own the things.

All of which was terribly unsatisfactory.

Magdeburg, September 1633 "It's because we were thinking presses," Mike Stearns said. "Thinking inside the box. That's why we haven't been able to identify the b.a.s.t.a.r.ds who are producing this filth. Even the Committees of Correspondence were thinking presses. Small presses; those are what they are distributing to their local organizations. That is what the Venice Committee of Correspondence is going to get. Improved small presses, but still presses using movable type. Because for copiers, we were thinking high-tech. We knew that the down-timers did have presses and that they did not have copiers."

He slapped his hand on the table, turning to Don Francisco Nasi. "How many of these duplicating machines are there now, Francisco? Inside the USE, spewing out this poison. Is there any way to make an estimate?"

Francisco Nasi shook his head. "I have people trying to find out how many Vignelli has shipped from Bozen. Some of the pamphlets are printed on presses, of course. We may still be able to trace those. b.u.t.the duplicating machines are so simple that there is no way Vignelli can possibly maintain a monopoly on them. Any decent craftsman who sees one can copy it. Successfully, I must add."

"So these things, these libels, whether they are specifically anti-Semitic or not, will just continue to proliferate. Anywhere, essentially undetectable. Unless we open every large envelope in the postal system-which, I emphasize, we most certainly will not do-the stencils will travel for no more than the normalporto , anywhere east of a line running from Sweden's Baltic provinces to Hungary."

This time, Don Francisco nodded. "They do not even need to send the stencils. That is clear from the statements made by the young boy and girl in the Fulda case. They only need to send one copy of a pamphlet, or a ma.n.u.script. Anyone who has a duplicating machine can prepare a stencil. Some will be better than others, but then some printing presses turn out much better quality copy than others. It depends on the skill of the operator, the quality of the paper, the quality of the ink. For longer books, I expect, printing will continue to be the preferred method."

"Yeah, that was true up-time, too."

"So unless you wish to duplicate thePorte , examining everyone's mail for possibly dissenting literature . .

Mike shook his head. "No. No, of course not. We are not going to stop the mail and inspect every item.

That would be against every principle of intellectual freedom, freedom of the press, that we are trying to introduce. It's just so . . ."

"Loathsome," Don Francisco suggested.

"'Loathsome' is a very inadequate word."

Hanau, November 1633 "It's a personal thank-you letter," Martin Wackernagel said. "From Prime Minister Stearns."

Menahem ben Elnathan took it. "I am honored."

"And one from Don Francisco Nasi."

"Perhaps I should be apprehensive."

"From all that I hear, they are sincerely grateful for your contributions. Not to a solution of the problem of these scurrilous pamphlets, since perhaps there is none, but for a.s.sisting in defining it."

"No one among us did anything remarkable," the rabbi said. "But, then, most large events are the result of many small ones coming together."

"Exactly what do you intend to do to solve David and Riffa's problems? Perhaps I shouldn't ask, but I'm curious."

"It is well under way. There was no prospect that Abelin Kronberg and Bessle Zons would consent toyoung David's new job and proposed marriage. They have too much pride invested in preventing him from joining the post office and in arranging the Wohl marriage. I suggested that they should release their parental rights in regard to this son who has caused them so much trouble and heartache, so that he may be adopted as heir by his uncle Meier and Zorline Neumark. Once that is completed, then the new parents can-and will-consent to the marriage. I have correspondence for you to carry to Frankfurt today. If all goes well, you should be able to bring me the completed legal papers on your return trip."

Martin looked at the rabbi for a few minutes. Then, in the up-time manner, he saluted him.

Frankfurt am Main, November 1633 "Where did you get it?" Crispin asked suspiciously.

"The administrator in Fulda for the New United States said that he owed me a favor. So I said that he could do me one, since they had confiscated it as evidence. It's the duplicating machine that Menig had at his paper mill, producing those scandalous pamphlets. It's yours legally. I have receipts."

Crispin looked at it with distaste. "Do you have an exorcist to get the evil spirits out of it?"

"Not exactly. But you'll be paying for it for several years, so don't feel that you got something for nothing."

"How?"

"I brought Menig's son to apprentice with you. He's at my rooms. No fee."

"I thought he was the one who actually ran the machine."

"He is, but the up-timers think he is not old enough to be held, as the woman named Mrs. Hill put it, 'criminally responsible.' I offered you and Merga as an alternative, which Mr. Wesley Jenkins accepted.

He is, from what I have observed so far, an incredibly ingenious boy who will occupy a great deal of your time."

Merga looked at her husband.

"All right," he said. "We'll take it. Him. Both of them. The machine and the boy."

"What about the girl?" Merga asked. "Bodamer's daughter. Liesel. What have they done to her?"

"Gone to her mother's people, for the time being, at least. Bodamer is one of Schlitz's subjects and the Ritter 's lawyers a.s.serted jurisdiction on his behalf, even though he is under arrest himself. Mrs. Hill was very angry about it."

"Beyond that," Martin asked after a while, "How's business?"

"I'm developing a new line," Crispin said. "Merga's idea. We haven't heard from the merchant selling the duplicating machines, yet, but then he is certainly not in Frankfurt. These things take time. I am creating a new small newspaper to circulate locally and present advertis.e.m.e.nts for things that people want. Theremust be many people in Frankfurt who want some item, and other people who have it but no longer want it, but who do not know one another. With the duplicating machine, now, the cost of production for these 'want ads' will be reduced a lot . . ."

"Stop delaying, Martin," Merga said. "You have to go upstairs and say h.e.l.lo toMutti ."

When Wackernagel came back down the stairs, he moaned. "You've got to do something, Merga. You absolutely have to get her off this 'settle down and get married.' Find her an avocation. A 'hobby' as the up-timers say. Some other interest."

She looked up from the stand where she was watching Emrich Menig piece the duplicating machine together. "Getting you married and settled down more than an avocation. It is her vocation, her calling."

"Merga, you havegot to do something." Martin's desperation was clear from the tone of his voice. "I can't settle down. Not here, not anywhere."

"Why on earth not, Marty?"

"Because Iam married. In Erfurt. Well, in a village right outside the city. And in Vacha. And in Steinau.

With calling of the banns and everything. They were all such darling girls when I met them. I couldn't bear to disappoint them, so I told the local pastors that I was an orphan from Breslau. And if any one of them finds out . . . ever. Or the church! There are a lot of really good reasons that I love the Imperial Road."

"How many reasons?" Merga asked. She put as much "foreboding" into the tone of her voice as she could possibly squeeze through her vocal cords.

"Besides my girls? Eight, right now."

Merga gasped.

Her brother gave her the grin he had used-in his older sister's opinion, with an unreasonable degree of success-to get out from under impending disciplinary measures since he was three years old. "But Maria is expecting again."

Those Daring Young Men

by Rick Boatright The door into the building opened, spilling young men and sunlight into the s.p.a.ce.

"Rotgut, Henrich, all around. And the paint."

"We're out of the Grantville Rotgut. You'll have to make do with the Italian version."

"As long as it's corn liquor, and burns, it will do."

Heinrich scanned the faces, quickly a.s.sessing who was missing. "Johan?" He took the container of bright pink paint down from the shelf behind the bar and handed it across. Then he placed a tray of shot-gla.s.ses on the counter.

"Ja. The left aileron hinge tore loose from the wing root, but not cleanly. TheMarie was never built to attempt an immelman. The main wing spar cracked, and he came in hard." Georg's hand made a twisting swoop through the air, and fluttered to the bar top.

A sound of sc.r.a.ping came from the far wall as tables were moved. Eleven bright pink pairs of wings flew in perfect coordination in two rows along the top. Quickly, tables were piled and a young man stood and added another pair.

Meanwhile, the pink silk scarves they all wore were folded and placed under their epaulettes.

The tray made its way around the group. Each man took a gla.s.s, then twelve shot gla.s.ses were placed in a "missing man" formation with one out front.

Isaac looked around to see if everyone was ready. "To Johan! And to the SKY!"