Marc Kronzburg pushed the overlapping canvas flaps out of the way as he made his way into the Thuringen Gardens outside patio. Or formerly outside patio. The original patio had been outside. Now, a massive roof was supported by four thick stone walls that contained six oversized coal-fired fireplaces, which allowed it to be used during the harshest of winters. None of this had done anything to change the original name.
Spotting Irv Sonderman at his usual table near the outside bar, Marc made his way over to his quarry. "Happy Holidays, Irv! Got a minute?"
The manager of Thuringen Gardens gestured to a chair and continuing to deal with the lunch paperwork, replied, "Sure thing, Marc. "Edith! Would ya get Marc here a beer? Thanks."
Irv Sonderman had been a long haul truck driver before the Ring of Fire. Then, during the celebrations that initiated Thuringen Gardens, he found himself in the right place at the right time with a pocket full of cash and a tractor full of beer. Of the eleven founders, only Willie Ray Hudson, Irv, and a couple of others still were involved in the business.
Turning back to Marc as he set down his pencil, Irv crossed his forearms on the table, "So, what's the word, Marc? We gonna be able to do business or what?"
"Of course, we'll be doing business, Irv! I told you that." Marc beamed, "The Voice of America would be proud to have Live from the Thuringen Gardens on our air following The Ole Timey Radio Hour. It's just technicalities have to be worked out."
"Like money," Irv commented flatly. "I told you, Marc. You ain't getting into my till."
"But you've got to see our point, Irv. So far, our deal with the Pentecostals is close to doubling our revenue from that hour from the overage alone. I've already raised the rate on the spots that run during the show and I've still got a waiting list."
Marc held up his hands and shrugged his shoulders. "When I talked it over with Mr. Grover, he agreed. We only gave them that small of a percentage deal because they were a religious organization. We can't offer the same deal to you. If you want on, we need to make sure we get a comparable deal factoring in the commercial benefits to the Gardens."
Irv scowled and took another sip of his beer. "I don't see how it's worth it to the Gardens. We're already the biggest bar in town. Everyone already comes here. I just don't need the show all that much."
"True, but Tip has also been asking about the time and with the big hall he's built so close to the Deborah trolley stop, he's been pulling in more and more customers from Saalfeld and the workers from the river industrial park."
"Bah! Tip's is a Swedish hang out. They might as well paint the place yellow." A waitress came over and handed Irv a ticket. Irv stood up, craned his neck to look at the patron who was asking for the tab, and scribbled his okay on the paper.
This gave Mark the opportunity to change the subject. "Maybe not, Irv. Listen, why don't we deal with this after New Year's? Maybe we can work something out then.
"By the way . . ." Marc reached into his bag and pulled out the book he had borrowed from Irv last summer. "Here's that baseball book you loaned me. Great stuff.
"You were right, Irv. The statistics in baseball are unlike anything I've seen before. I did see one statistic you had circled that confused me a little though. Why did you circle the 226 sacrifice hits record?
"Oh, you mean the Yankee team record." Irv beamed. "That's the sole remaining record from a player that my granddad loved. Wally Pipp. He was traded from the Yankees to the Cincinnati Reds late in his career. He had been a great hitter, led the American League twice in home runs and was one of the original members of the Yankees infamous Murderers Row with 996 runs batted in for his career."
"Granddad got a shot in the Cincinnati organization as a first baseman while Pipp was there. He always said that Wally Pipp was a great guy, helped him to learn more about being a first baseman than anyone Granddad ever played with. Too bad about his timing though." Irv's face showed momentary distraction. Then he glared right at Marc.
"I get it. Wally Pipp, the most consistent Yankee infielder during the previous nine seasons was pulled from the starting lineup for a young guy that Pipp had scouted out of Columbia. That was Lou Gehrig, and Wally never got back into the starting rotation again.
"What you're telling me is we can always be replaced." Irv leaned back in his chair and thought a moment. "Okay. What if we guarantee to match your revenue from the church show plus five percent?"
Marc smiled as he exhaled. That approach had been tricky, but getting to know Irv so well, he had figured that Irv would see the point himself. "I'm sure we can talk Mr. Grover into something like that. We are talking about the base amount plus estimated expenses for the remote broadcasts up front, aren't we?"
* * *
When the service ended, Constanzia picked up her overcoat and muff and shuffled down the side aisle to the exit. She couldn't help noticing how much different this church was from the elaborate gothic churches she had attended in Augsburg. Its construction was sturdy, straightforward and simple; exposed beams supporting the roof above, half timbered, plastered exterior walls, and plain glass windows about every six feet along the sidewalls. She noted the progress being made on the installation of balconies along both sides of the sanctuary with staircases connecting them to the entrance area referred to as a narthex. Behind the altar and choir loft, she knew that Reverend Chalker had an office and a small apartment.
Constanzia preferred to attend the early service here. The church had grown so much this year that it provided three morning services and two afternoon services each Sunday. Since this was the Catholic and up-timers' Christmas service, they were all packed in. Even with having to slip through the crowd, though, she could make the second Lutheran service and not upset her uncle and her elder half-brother, Johann Martin Sulzer, who always kept their eyes on her religious education.
With the news this week that her father would be visiting for business reasons during the upcoming Protestant Christmas season, she didn't want any premature word about her personal life in Grantville. She could break that news herself, if it needed to be revealed.
As her cousin Catharina tried to explain to her, the Pentecostals were basically like Lutherans. They believe that people became true Christians by faith—then it got interesting. Unlike most Christians of the era, they were not cessionists. They believe that miracles, healings, and prophecy still happened just like in the Book of Acts. In particular, they thought that after a person became a true Christian, the Holy Spirit would come on them and they would speak with other tongues just like the apostles. Reverend Chalker was even more flexible. He believed that if someone kept coming to the church, the Lord was speaking to him or her, which was good enough because that conversation may take some time.
While there were frequent outbursts of speaking in tongues during the services, for reasons of his own, Fischer kept his dramatic and highly emotional exhibitions limited to his evening services. From what Constanzia understood, those had become filled with an amazing emotional power. There had even been cases of apparent healings. Reverend Fischer just seemed to dominate whatever stage he was on. With that rugged complexion and short-cut, thick, black hair that draped over his forehead, he just looked the part of a leader.
When asked about Fischer's different way of handling services, Reverend Chalker reasoned, "No reason scaring off the little babies in the faith by showing them the adults only version."
During the service, Fischer had introduced the new elders to the congregation. Now, as Constanzia had finally reached the narthex, she approached the reception line of the new elders and their wives. First, there was Georg Heinrich Vitzthum von Eichstedt. Herr Vitzthum von Eichstedt was a widower who lived in Rudolstadt. He actually traveled to Grantville every weekend to attend the services ever since Enrico Abona, the director of Kelly Construction, first invited him. Hermann Neuhoff and his wife Catherine were so busy in a conversation, she moved past them to Johann Friedrich and his wife, Maria. Johann tended to the foot care outreach program ever since he joined the church family.
Finally, was Enrico Abona himself and his wife, Leanna Villarreal. She had joined the church by what Brother Chalker called "the old fashioned way." She married into it. Next to them was Balthazar Schenk, one of the count's minor officials at Schwarzburg castle, who was going out with one of Leanna's friends. Constanzia couldn't remember the girl's name, but Schenk's father had worked for von Eichstedt's father.
As Constanzia finished exchanging pleasantries with Leanna, she felt a tap on her shoulder. Turning, she was surprised to see Hans and Maria Kurger. It had also been announced at the service that Hans had heard the call to the ministry and was to become the newest Pentecostal minister, beginning studies this week.
Maria, who was tightly gripping her husband's arm, smiled as she greeted Constanzia. "Fraulein Garb, I'm so glad to see you coming back to our services. If you're not careful, Hans and I will have you teaching Sunday School classes before you know it!"
Constanzia laughed. "As long as it doesn't involve teaching Latin, it might be appealing to me. These up-timers just don't have a good, basic, classical education at all."
Along with most down-timers, Constanzia was amazed that with all the advanced knowledge they brought back with them from the future, knowledge of the classical fundamentals was not common among up-timers. Hans and Maria smiled and nodded their emphatic agreement.
Maria continued, "Constanzia, did you hear that Ingrid Nemeth's son Terrell has been detailed by the army into something called 'T&T Training'? Ingrid's not sure what that is, but she's asking us to pray for a quick end to this war so whatever it is, Terrell won't be in jeopardy doing it.
"Now, may we invite you to have lunch with us?"
Snow flew into the old smokehouse as he entered. Colonel David Leslie stomped the slush off his boots, leaned his SRG rifle against the wall, and closed the door behind him. He pulled his cape off, shook it and hung on the peg beside the doorway, then lit the candle stub he had left on the table this morning. He fiddled with his new iron campstove until a somewhat out of place, cheery flame took hold of the kindling.
Flopping down on his cot, Leslie pulled off his boots, examining them for daily wear and tear. "Ah, there you go, my laddy! I knew that you'd finally opened up that wee little hole. It's to the cobbler you'll be going in the morning."
At least the horses were well fed, better than any winter since he joined his uncle, Lieutenant General Alexander Leslie, on this continental adventure back in 1630. Well, not his uncle precisely. More like his father's bastard cousin who had done the family proud. The feeding certainly boded well for this season's foals. With so many mares bearing this season, his cavalry should have no problem with adequate mounts if the war continued another five years, another small miracle thanks to the Americans and their gadgetry.
Thinking about the American up-timers and all the stories they told still gave Leslie headaches. His other destiny would have been to command all Scottish forces to historic victories, only to go to defeat at the hands of an English Puritan. Then, to be knighted by the restored monarchy and be given lands and pensions, taking honor to his grave. Well for sure, with what he'd learned now of future cavalry tactics, no New Model Army of Englishmen would see the day they would crush his forces, by God.
Leslie's professional Holy Trinity these days was Stuart, Forrest, and Sheridan. Aye, those were cavalrymen's cavalrymen! First with the most, indeed! From what he had been able to gather from all those fine books, only Wilson in his massed cavalry raid through Alabama had led a mounted force as well trained as the one he was readying for the spring campaign. So many good Scottish names in that horrid blue and grey war of those up-timers.
But Leslie was engaged in his own horrid war, this one with more divisions making less sense. When he first enlisted, it all seemed so clear. Protect the Reformation against the Papist. Then he found that his men's pay was coin from the purse of Cardinal Richelieu. Now, he commanded units combining Catholic and Protestant soldiers. Nothing made sense.
Uncle Alexander had told him, "Nephew, we cannot bother ourselves with what might have happened or could have happened. We can only be true to our duty as we see it on this day.
"It's fidelity we pledged to Gustavus Adolphus and as long as he continues to show himself a leader worth following, it's fidelity we'll be giving. If he believes in these Americans, we will continue to call them allies ourselves."
Aye, and marvelous allies they had proved to be. People more loyal because Americans had shown ways of sharing the burden more fairly, of increasing the crop yields, and reducing the size of the army, while increasing it's firepower and maneuverability.
It was like that new song his men now sang. On this Christmas night, he would indeed sleep in heavenly peace.
* * *
"So, Constanzia, I understand you're seeing a radio star."
Constanzia could feel the blood rushing to her cheeks in embarrassment at her father's words. "What? Who told you that? Martin!"
Marco Garb's face broke out in a big grin as he observed his daughter's reaction. So, it was true what his stepson had been writing to him about Constanzia.
Constanzia's half-brother, Johann Martin Luther Sulzer, was fifteen years her senior and thought of himself more as an extra father than a brother. When Grantville first appeared in the world, Marco had dispatched Martin there to become his eyes in this new place. However, it was soon apparent that Martin didn't have the guile to successfully obtain the information that Marco needed. Thus he asked his youngest daughter to visit her Aunt Potentiana in Badenburg, which was close to where the Ring of Fire had appeared, and see what she could do.
Her brother had managed to get both her and her cousin Catharina jobs teaching at the high school. From there, she had done very well indeed. From the high school student partners of the Barbie Consortium to the young owners of the Other People's Money mutual fund who had recently graduated, Constanzia had smoothly used her position teaching Italian at the high school to get to know every one of the young lions of Grantville's financial community.
"No, Papa. I have not been seeing Reverend Fischer, no matter what my nosy older brother thinks. Catharina and I have attended services at his church occasionally." Constanzia thought to herself that twice a week could truthfully be described as occasionally. "But we've never been alone together a single time. Besides, what if I were? I'm over twenty-one!"
"Now, now, Tesorina, you should know by now that I trust in your judgment. Would I have asked you to come here on my behalf if I did not?" From her reaction, Marco was now certain that there was more to how his "Little Treasure" felt about this radio preacher than just spiritual.
Whether Marco had trust or not in his daughter was not the important issue. Once his stepbrother Emanuel Sulzer and his wife's sister, whose house they were guests in on this Christmas evening, found out about little Constanzia's deviation from the Lutheran faith, it would be him, not Constanzia, who would catch hell.
When he met Potentiana's sister Constanzia Turettini, she had been a recently widowed mother of six. Her first husband, Heinrich Sulzer, had died in a horse accident. Marco had fallen in love at first sight. He even converted to the Lutheran faith in order to make her his own. Another year had brought them Jean Achille Garb, their first child together. But the next birth a year later of his beloved daughter came at the price of the life of his love. He had named the baby after her departed mother.
After some years of mourning, Marco had decided to revert to his Calvinist faith, although he had kept his vow to raise all his children and stepchildren as his wife had wished. It was good that Emanuel lived so far away. A firmer believer in the tenets of the Lutheran faith could not be found than Emanuel, who saw no good from any non-follower of Lutheranism in any way.
"Now, enough of our play. Tell me what you've learned of the investments I asked you to look into for me."
For the next hour, Constanzia gave her father a detailed run down on the young people running the investment opportunities Marco was studying. Finally, after reviewing his notes, Marco mused, "The board meeting is tomorrow. It's good to have alternatives to the capitalization call for a second steel plant location that Frederic Swisher is going to present to us."
Since the Ring of Fire, Constanzia's father had become a major player amongst the investment community of her hometown, Augsburg. He had guessed early that betting the new technology these Americans had brought would survive, no matter what happened to the Americans themselves. The investors who followed his lead had been richly rewarded, to the point that they had been able to get Marco a seat on the Board of Directors of USE Steel to watch over their interests.
It had been an amazing rise for Marco Garb, born Marco de' Gilbelli, an immigrant boy. He left his hometown of Turin with his parents for Geneva. They hoped they could practice their Calvinist beliefs there. As the Holy Roman Empire exerted its power in oppressing Protestants of all faiths, Marco moved on to the Imperial City and ancient Roman outpost of Augsburg. A city proud of its historic tolerance of different faiths. He had even adopted his cousins' Germanized version of their family name in order to fit in better with the local business people. After all, his third cousin Johann Baptist Garb was still the Swedish Resident, or as the Americans called it, "consul" in Augsburg at that time. It was Cousin Johann Baptist who took it upon himself to introduce Marco to all the important financial leaders of the Imperial City.
"Now, about this young minister of yours, I must come with you sometime and meet this man."
John Grover found himself whistling as he rode his horse away from the station that evening.
Pesky little song, I just can't get it out of my head, he thought. But, I always did like "Will the Circle Be Unbroken?"
That had been last Saturday night's featured song on the Ole Timey Radio Hour. If the mail received so far this week were any barometer, it would be as big of a hit as the first show's "Silent Night." Fischer and his bunch were really tuned into the market. Since they went on the air, mail to the station had more than doubled and that didn't count the mail directly to the show itself. Requests for more broadsides on how to build better crystal sets, requests for parts, requests for more commodity prices on the morning farm reports, it just went on and on. In fact, there didn't seem to be a category of station programming that didn't have more feedback and suggestions for improvement.
He turned a corner. All this time on the air and we've only had one broadcast tube burn out.Way below Gayle's initial estimate but really close to what Art Berry had predicted if we would follow his advice about how to operate them, which we did. All in all, things are good. If that isn't enough to have me whistling a happy tune, there are the rest of the projects that GE is working on.
* * *
". . .Then Chief Dan Frost pulled out his guns and shot the evil horsemen as they galloped down the street toward him. All the townspeople, maybe some of your parents even, were up on the rooftops shooting at them until they were either dead or decided to give up.
"Then they all hopped into their trucks and sped down to the school house to help out Jeff, Julie and Dr. Nichols and the others who had been holding off the other band of Croats all by themselves. And that's how Grantville fought off the Great Croat Raid."
"So children, remember that in a democracy, everyone has to respect each others rights and stand up to defend them together. Now let us pray . . ."
In the barracks of the Yellow Regiment, one of the troopers threw a boot at the wall. "Again he did it, Swen! You and I both were there at that damned schoolhouse and this Fischer didn't even mention the part we or Captain Gars played."
"You're too sensitive, Henrik. It is just a story told to children. He doesn't mean anything by it."
"But, he's never given any credit to the part we're playing in fighting this war on any of his shows. No credit at all. I think we should say something to Lieutenant Ivarsson."
Der Kronz was very pleased with himself and the results of this little trip to Jena. Add up all the new six-month ad buys and this was by far his best visit to this town yet. With the increased listenership, no one had even blinked at the latest rate increase. Sticking the folder containing this particular ad contract into his very thickly filled satchel was especially satisfying.
"So, Mordechai, what is it with the 'Marc'? Isn't the name your mother gave you good enough for you now?"
Marc grimaced. Cousins! Who could live with them? "I told you, Isaac. It's a perfectly normal and modern name for Jews in the twentieth century." Marc responded, "A very good name for dealing with all the up-timers around these days, and the Germans too for that matter."
"Leave your cousin alone, Isaac! If Mordechai wants to be called Mordy or Mortimer or Marc or whatever else, it's his business as long as he's still looking for a good Jewish girl to settle down with and have kids." Marc had hoped to avoid that particular topic this trip, so to his way of thinking Rachael's defense was a double-edged sword.
Marc was about to reply, when the door bell jingled as several burly, heavily dressed men walked in with grim expressions on their faces.
"Good morning, gentlemen," Isaac said. "How may I help you?"
"You can give us back our father's money that you stole for one thing, Jew." The man in the middle with the long blond beard snapped. "Franz Holstein. You and your dirty Jew usury ruined him."
Isaac should have known that Franz Holstein would cause him trouble. Nothing but hate in his eyes every time he came into Isaac's door with his payment. Even when though Isaac regularly forgave him for being a few days late, never once did a thank you come out of his lips. But Isaac had been startled at the news of Holstein's suicide on Christmas night, the Lutheran Christmas just past.
Isaac replied cautiously, "I heard about your father. I'm very sorry, but I assure you his unfortunate death had nothing to do with the loan. I offered to forgive him the last quarters interest and put him on a new payment . . ."
"Shut up, you Goddamned lying Jew." The man on the left slammed the palm of his hand down on the counter top. "Martin Luther was right! He called it. All of you are just poisoned, envenomed worms who should be expelled for all time. Well, this is the day, thief! We're here to take back all the money you stole from good Christians, just as Luther instructed."
All three men whipped out their down-time, single shot pistols and aimed them at Isaac and Marc.
Isaac raised his hands above his head as he slowly backed away from the counter. The pistols these men were brandishing were only accurate at a very close range. His chances were better further away.
"Gentlemen, please! Calm down! There's no need to do anything rash," Isaac began, using his gentlest tone, "Very well. You shall have your father's money. There is no need for bloodshed. Rachael, go to the back and bring out all the money we received from Mr. Holstein. Bring the accounting book as well, so these gentlemen can see for themselves it's all there."
Rachael, hands still raised, started backing toward the door to the back room.
The blond, bearded brother barked, "Stop, you Jew whore! My brother told you. All your money! Franz, go with the bitch. Make sure they have nothing left."
The third brother, evidently the youngest, tried to vault over the counter. His right boot landed awkwardly on the side of a stool behind the counter, tipping it over and losing his balance.
His pistol discharged. The loud sound rumbled through the small office as its shot burrowed it's way into a ceiling joist, startling the other brothers who responded by jerking the triggers of their pistols.
At the sound of the first shot, Marc raised his satchel to protect himself as Rachael screamed and dived for the open doorway behind her. While Franz struggled to regain his feet, the other brothers were at a loss as to what they should do next. Isaac heard one of the bullets buzz past his right ear, and quickly reached for the small of his back where he carried his modern Walther PPK/S pistol.
"Freeze, Holsteins!" Isaac he flipped off the safety and, using the two handed grip he had been taught, pointed the weapon at the nearest, now frozen, brother.
The front door crashed open, ringing its bell madly. "Committee of Correspondence! Lower your weapons and surrender!"
* * *
"Is everyone okay, Marc?" John Grover was still stunned at the close call that his sales manager had just relayed.
Marc nodded. He'd just arrived back in Grantville, following the aborted robbery attempt. Naturally, he'd first hurried to the station to turn in his contracts before retreating to his home for a very long and very hot bath to relax his tense muscles.
When he walked into the station, Maria Kurger and Fischer were finishing up double-checking the week's mail receipts with Helga Armbruster and John Grover. He collapsed in the nearest chair and blurted out the entire story.
"My God!" Fischer called out, "They quoted Martin Luther? Marc, I'm so sorry. So many things that man did that were so good, then just three years before his death a hateful publication like that."
In January 1543, in a spasm of emotion, Martin Luther had written his pamphlet, "On the Jews and Their Lies," a virulent and impassioned denunciation of Jews that spewed forth Luther's premise that Jews couldn't be counted on to ever convert to Christianity. It charged that all their belongings had been stolen from Christian families by the use of lies and usurious lending practices prohibited to good Christians. His proposed solution included that their synagogues and schools be set on fire, prayer books destroyed, rabbis forbidden to preach, homes razed, and property and money confiscated. Luther argued that Jews should be shown no mercy or kindness, have no legal protection, and should all be drafted to forced labor or expelled for all time. Four centuries later, the Nazis used quotations from this pamphlet to justify the Final Solution.
The prevailing view among historians after World War II was that Luther's expressions of anti-Jewish sentiment had been a persistent influence in the centuries since the Reformation. A minority, before Grantville had arrived in this time to find out the truth, believed that Luther's anti-Jewish writings were largely ignored after the sixteenth century, before being rediscovered by anti-Semites in the twentieth. They argued that even the banishments of Jews in some German states were no more common than similar banishments of Christian denominations during the Post Reformation period. The Ring of Fire had proved that minority right. Unfortunately for Marc and his family, not right enough.
Fischer went over and placed his hand on Marc's shoulder. "My friend, my elder brother in the faith of the One God, I promise you I shall do something about this. You have my word."
Marc just nodded and opened his satchel, preparing to turn his paperwork over to Helga. Looking closely at it for the first time since the incident, he tensed noticeably. There, just under the flap, was a small round hole. As he pulled out the folders within, a small round piece of lead fell out and rolled across the floor.
* * *
"What a wonderful performance Sister Jennifer gave tonight, my friends! And now, it's just about time for us to leave you again until next week. But my heart is heavy with a message that I need to share with you." Fischer paused while he decided which was the best inflection to use in delivering the message he had worked out in his head the previous afternoon.
"Friends, if there is one thing that we've all learned from Grantville, it's that it's the little things that make a difference in our lives. It's the little things, like adding legumes to the crop rotation. It's the little things, like using standard-sized pallets to more quickly ship goods to market. It's the little things!
"Little things like the printed thoughts and the works of great men yet unborn that have been brought back to us from that other future. If you're looking for the blessings of God, it's the little things!"
Now Fischer moved closer to the mike as he delivered the money line, "Yes, and God says, it's the little things that make the difference in our lives as well. The little things, like loving your neighbors and honoring God instead of worrying how you think others honor Him. Don't you know that Jesus taught us God is faithful in all things, even in the little things?
"Once He makes a covenant, He lives by it for eternity. What's more, he expects us to live by every little covenant we make as well."
By now, Fischer clearly understood the influence he was having on the unseen radio listener out there. He could almost see each listener nodding their head, understanding and following along with the pacing and the logic that Fischer was employing.
"But sometimes, even the greatest men made little mistakes. I want to talk about a little mistake that a great man made that we now understand thanks to our friends from the future.
"I've consulted with pastors and elders of every major branch of the Protestant faith who have come back to our time through the Ring of Fire on this. I have consulted with the up-time Lutherans such as Herr Lambert, who is known to you at the Leahy Medical Center, and Herr Koch, who is known to you from the mine. They all tell me that in the future all the Lutherans, from the Lutheran churches of Bavaria and Austria, to the Missouri Synod and Evangelical Lutheran Church in America have issued statements repudiating this one mistake of Reverend Luther, while continuing to honor the caring and positive statements and actions toward Jews that had been taken by Luther throughout his long life up till then.
"My friends, this week I remind you of your duty to follow Martin Luther's lead throughout most of his life towards our elder brothers in the faith of the One God and to respect them as fellow citizens of our new nation."
As Fischer's "elder brothers" remarks finally came to their logical, yet emotionally powerful, end the night's closing song welled up in the background.
"Don't worry, mein Liebling. I'll stay safe." Hans Kurger kissed his wife Maria and hugged her tightly before swinging his duffle bag over his shoulder and stepping up to board the passenger train to Magdeburg. The Grantville Terminal was bustling with people. He turned to give a final goodbye to all the friends who had gathered to give him a send off to the war. "Praise God that He's given me such good friends as you. May He keep us all safe until we see one another again!"
"Amen, Brother!" "Halleluiah!" "God bless you too, Hans!" A chorus of responses responded to Hans' blessing. Maria fought to hold back her tears. Pete Enriquez stood behind Maria and placed his hands gently on her shoulders while Susannah Becker held her hand. Behind them, the crowd from the church and other friends of the Kurgers stood trying to show confident smiles, but feeling the anguish of knowing that a loved one was going to war and might not come back.
Hans had explained to Reverends Chalker and Fischer why he had decided to join the army for this year's campaign. After Chalker had proclaimed Hans fit to take his vows to the ministry, Chalker had asked him what mission did he feel called to perform. "Brothers, God has given me so much since Maria and I came to Grantville. But Magdeburg is still our hometown and with Maria safe here with all of you, I feel that I am being called to help defend it once again.
"Besides," he continued, "It is time that I got on with spreading the Word with my deeds as well. After this war is finally over, having served as a chaplain, I'll be in a much better position to bring new souls to Christ." He grinned. "Which we cannot doubt that even some members of the Committees of Correspondence need."
He climbed the remaining steps to the main aisle and found a window seat about midway down the old converted school bus. The seat was next to a patch in the body. From the shape of it, it had probably been put there to repair damage caused by the Croat raiders as they tried to get past the bus barricade to the high school almost two years ago. While the tires of so many of those school buses ruined, several had been enlisted to furnish passenger service for the newly completed rail line to Magdeburg. In case the bus was needed for off-rail transport along the line, several stops had a set of jacks on the siding track and a set of tires so the rail wheels could be swapped out if necessary.
With his final passenger now on board, the driver pulled the lever closing the door, started his engine, and slowly pulled away from the new downtown Grantville station. Behind, he towed three down-time built cargo trail cars and a flatbed, which carried some sort of vehicle that was covered with a green tarp. A heavily bundled, uniformed guard rode on top of each rail car, cradling their SRG rifles in their arms and a shotgun strapped across their backs to protect the train along the journey to the temporary end of the rail at Eisleben.
As the train disappeared around the bend, Fischer turned to Chalker, who was seated in his wheelchair being hovered over by Georg Fleitner. "Well, Brother Chalker, our first missionary has been dispatched."
Chalker nodded, rubbing his swollen legs. Still solemnly looking down the now empty tracks, he observed, "Praise the Lord, Brother Fischer. The Holy Ghost has chosen well."
"Amen to that, brothers!" Pete chimed in. "You did give him the other copy for Terrell. Didn't you, Fischer?"
Fischer nodded. The copy Pete referred to was the book the church had just published, "A Pentecostal Commentary and Concordance" by Reverend John Chalker as translated to German by Reverend Dieter Fischer. Of the initial press run of one thousand, Chalker had reserved the first thirteen copies for himself and what he liked to call his new apostles. These would be the first twelve ministers to spread the Pentecostal Word to the ends of this new world. Fischer had insisted that Hans, as the newest ordained minister in the faith, should receive the first copy to take with him. The other copy Hans was taking with him was destined for Terrell Nemeth, who had also accepted the call to take up the ministry.
This was the book that Chalker and Fischer had worked on so long and hard since Fischer's arrival in Grantville. With Chalker continuing to conduct his Bible studies as his strength would allow, Fischer scribbled down his notes. Then, he carefully translated them into the common dialect that he and Chalker had selected to best reflect the common Germans to whom they were reaching out.
Meanwhile, a committee of down-timer members had tackled the job of translating the concordance from the up-time Bible that Chalker had brought through the Ring of Fire with him. Since Chalker also added personal notes and struck passages that didn't reflect his beliefs, this was also finely tuned to his faith.
The finished book was filled with the loving humor and keen insight into the human condition Chalker had developed in his years as a country preacher back up-time and now here in the seventeenth century. Wonderful stories, all tied to specific verses of the Bible, all designed to guide the reader into letting go and allowing the Holy Ghost in their own heart to take control of their life.
Nothing quite like this book had existed in this world. Unknown to the Pentecostal ministers, of the remainder that had been put on sale; a Jesuit priest in town had purchased the next dozen and shipped eleven back to Rome. Others were already finding their way to various Imperial cities, electorates, and principalities throughout the Germanies, Paris, Vienna, Denmark, and even Madrid. All in all, the book was about to be read by all the finest people. None of whom were likely candidates for conversion.
Pete walked away accompanying Susannah back to her home. Georg started pushing Chalker's wheelchair back to the church. Fischer followed behind thinking of the dangers that Hans was about to face. Almost unobserved, Constanzia fell in beside him and slipped her hand into his.
* * *
Fischer woke with a start. He felt as if he had been dropped on the bed from some height and his forehead was throbbing. Throwing off the covers, he swung his feet to the floor and felt moisture dripping down from his scalp line. He wiped his brow then brought his hand down so he could look at it.
Thank God, it isn't blood.
Fischer hadn't had such a vivid dream in some time now. It was something about a rape amid an ocean of blood and violet flames. His heart throbbed just thinking about it. It's probably just the result of Hans going off to war.
He tried to remember the details of the dream, but they had mostly escaped his memory. One detail did come to mind. It was the figure raping the girl. He was a large, heavyset man wearing robes, with a mustache and a spindly blond goatee. And he was wearing glasses. How odd.
* * *
"Reverend! Reverend Fischer!"
Fischer looked up from his morning paper to see who was calling for him. He enjoyed this little habit of having a quiet breakfast at the Higgins Hotel Restaurant each Tuesday morning after the Bible study the previous night. Georg Heinrich Vitzthum von Eichstedt, one of the Grantville Pentecostal Church's newest elders walked toward him. Fischer set aside his paper, smiled, and stood up to welcome the elder and invited him to share breakfast.
Eichstedt arranged his napkin on his lap and got right to business. "A wonderful meeting of the Elders last night, Reverend."
"Thank you, Herr von Eichstedt."
"Please," Eichstedt interrupted with a smile. "I will call you Dieter, and you must not feel obligated to use my formal name. I shall be Georg Heinrich. The American way!"
"By all means, the American way. What an amazing culture they must have had up-time. This city was just a back hills afterthought in their world and look at what it's doing to change our entire world in the here and now."
Eichstedt nodded as the waiter came to take his order. "Yes, the meeting last night. I was going over the budget for using the funds from the radio show. It seems to me that we have a dilemma. We can only expand the church so much and you are already conducting all the Sunday services we can expect of you. Even with the new salaries for the cast and crew of the show, our charities contribution is going to have a difficult time spending the surplus in such a way as to not attract more members."
He took another sip of his coffee before continuing. "Now with Hans newly ordained and sent off to war and Terrell making the commitment to becoming a minister of the faith giving us two chaplain missionaries . . . Well, it seems to me the time has arrived that we need to start physically spreading our flock outside the city limits of Grantville."
Fischer looked puzzled, but waited for the Elder to explain.
"You see, your radio devotionals and the Saturday night radio show are creating more and more interest in our practices. I'm constantly being asked about the church back home in Rudolstadt. There are a lot of rumors about our differences and unless we provide the answers, our adversaries will."
"But, until Reverend Chalker can resume his pulpit here, I can't start up any new churches." Fischer gestured with his cup. "You've already pointed out that Hans is off with the army and Terrell is just beginning his formal training. It takes time to find and train ministers for a new church. Even using the mission riders system of the early Methodist church, the Holy Spirit just hasn't provided us the people with the calling to support more churches right now."
"Ah yes! But a minister is not necessary for a church. In Matthew it says, 'Where two or three are gathered together in my name, there am I in the midst of them.' As it turns out, our church has brought back the most wonderful approach to spreading the Word. Two approaches actually."
Fischer looked puzzled, so Eichstedt continued. "First, the weeknight Bible studies. With the new commentary you and Reverend Chalker have provided us, we can set up Bible studies in any town where a member can attract a gathering. We wouldn't even have to be in conflict with the existing religion of that town. Nor do we need to ask for contributions, thanks to the radio show. No doubt, we'd get contributions, but like the devotional, we wouldn't have to emphasize that part.
"In fact, we can actually charge our new believers to get more active in their existing local churches! It's obvious from what I've learned since listening to the Holy Spirit inside me. Our mission is to bring all the Christian churches, whether Lutheran or Catholic, Anabaptist or Calvinist, back to the proper appreciation of the Holy Spirit in their worship. That was the way that the charismatic movement was initially spread back up-time. It will work just as well here."
Fischer was astonished at this new way of looking at growing the Pentecostal faith. But Georg Heinrich was correct, even in the book on Sister Aimee Semple McPherson, during the early days of her ministry she converted existing churches to the power of the Spirit more often than starting new churches of her own. After thinking it through for a moment, he asked, "But you said two?"
Smiling even wider, Geog Heinrich replied, "A traveling revival! Instead of holding our summer revival here in Grantville this year, we can spread it around and help bring new souls to those new Bible study groups forming all over the Germanies.
"As you know, my ancestral family lands are just outside the gates of Rudolstadt. By my father's time, our family fortunes had dwindled to just some rents from here and there and maybe a thousand guilders worth of land. But when the railroad came, the Lord presented me the opportunity to develop the land into a service yard for the further construction of the new lines north to Magdeburg and west to Erfurt. That, in turn, allowed me to persuade other landowners along the line of the value of the new railroad to them and how they might also profit from voluntarily dropping their rights to tolls. And that advice has paid off with a good deal of influence in towns and cities all up and down the rail line.
"In fact, during the last few weeks, I've been making inquiries of some of my friends for the use of their lands near the rail line for a few week nights. I'm confident that we can put on a revival tour unhampered by local authorities so long as we don't try to displace the local church."
Fischer's face lit up. "And thanks to the radio and the correspondence we've been receiving as a response to the talent contest and the other requests for songs and such, we'll even know where we have concentrations of listeners who would be willing to attend our first tour. This is a brilliant idea!"
"Exactly. All the elements are there. But most of all, the Holy Spirit has given us that rarest of gifts, a man with the power to persuade and the power to lead. You, Reverend Dieter Fischer."
"Well, long story short," Maria Kurger said to the preachers and elders, and a few good prospective elders when the time came, gathered in the offices of the Grantville Pentecostal Church, "here's the list of the towns from which people have sent either donations or correspondence in response to the radio show or the morning devotionals. I've ranked it by numbers of correspondents with the total contributions and total number of letters noted in separate columns." She handed out copies. Laying a map on the table in front of her, she continued, "I've also noted on the map in yellow the top twenty towns in terms of donations and in blue the top twenty towns in terms of pieces of correspondence. Green represents towns on both lists. The bolder printing of the town name indicates a larger population."
Fischer leaned over Reverend Chalker's shoulder to get a better view of the map. This was the first tangible evidence he'd seen of where his listeners were and it amazed him how widespread his audience was. They ranged from Bavaria to the south and Fulda to the west, to Saxony in the east and Hesse Kassel to the north.
"I discovered a real interesting thing while putting together this report," Maria said. "Starting in late January, we've been receiving a steadily increasing number of letters from people who have not been able to hear the show. They got their hands on a copy of one of the songs we've sent out and are writing us for more songs or information on the Bible lessons we offer on the other side of the broadsheet.
"These second generation requests seem to follow the initial letters by about three to five weeks. That means that we may have really not even begun to find our audience for the shows from January!"
Everyone was quiet for a moment, thinking of the ramifications of this new information.
"Keeping Elder von Eichstedt's suggestion in mind," Pete Enriquez commented, "We need to identify the towns that are on or near enough to the new rail lines with good enough roads so our vehicles can make the journey."
The other members of this year's revival planning committee nodded their heads at this suggestion.
Balthazar Schenk pointed to Meiningen. "It's a shame the rail hasn't been completed there yet. I've made a number of trips to Meiningen purchasing gun parts and have been asked about my new faith. I believe that town is ripe for a revival."
"Plenty of time for the Holy Spirit to lead us all over, Brother Schenk," Chalker replied. "This first tour needs to plant the seeds where we can get back easily to cultivate it. 'And some fell on stony ground, where it had not much earth; and immediately it sprang up, because it had no depth of earth: but when the sun was up, it was scorched; and because it had no root, it withered away.' Mark, Chapter Four, Verse Five.
"Yep, we need to place our seed so we can continue to water it and help it grow the roots it needs to survive. A regular 'Good News Crusade,' just like back home in West Virginia!" Chalker paused and ran his bony forefinger up the path of the rail line. Brightening, he added, "Well, I'll be! Looky here, Eisleben is marked."
Everyone present already knew the importance of Eisleben. It was the town where Martin Luther himself was born and died, a stronghold of the Lutheran faith ever since.
"Georg Heinrich, do you think we would be able to find a field to set up our tents there?"
Stroking his beard and frowning as he thought the question over, von Eichstedt answered, "I'm not sure, Reverend. I know several large landowners there well, but freedom of worship or not, we are very likely to get a strong reaction from the local authorities. Halle might be a safer choice. The improvements in their coal mining industry there have really opened them up to new ideas.
"Same with Aschersleben where the main rail line splits off to the west. That's becoming quite a boomtown as are Weissenfels and Kahla. Finding where the kaolinized feldspar sand deposits were located near Kahla has led to growth there on the order of Magdeburg."
Nodding, Chalker turned to Slater Dobbs. "Slater, how you coming on getting the vehicles together?"
"Real good, Preacher." Slater grinned. "Phyllis and my sister Doreen convinced Ogden that his fancy RV wasn't doing them any good just sitting under the shed behind their house. So, he agreed to sell it to us.
"Then I pointed out to a couple of old hunting buddies of mine that they couldn't drive to the WVU games any more, so they might as well rent theirs to us. So that's three over-thirty-foot-long RV's with full showers that should be able to sleep fifteen or so. We've also got access to another six fifth-wheel camper trailers. That should take care of the bulk of the choir and crew y'all are planning on taking. We can rig them to tow behind the RV's.
"Between the RV basements and the storage on top of all those units, we shouldn't need more than one or two cargo trailers, but I've found a couple that used to haul mulching that have high sideboards."
Pete interjected, "How hard will it be to switch out their road tires and rail wheels, Slater?"
"Not hard at all, boss. Me and my roadies should be able to switch all four wheels right there on the siding in less than twenty minutes per vehicle. The railroad built their town sidings with that in mind in the first place."
Fischer asked, "Any problems with getting scheduled on the rail, Slater?"
"No, sir. Brother Johann Gunter works over at the dispatcher's office. He said as long as we plan our trips outside the main cargo runs, he can get us clearance all the way up the line."
Chalker leaned back in his wheel chair and smiled. "Looks like everything is working out right smoothly. What we probably need to do is to go ahead and pick one town and test everything out for a three night run, then come back and plan the rest of the summer tour."
Looking around, he asked, "So, what town's going to be the Samaria for our Dieter's Philip and his first mission?"
* * *
"Dieter, I asked you to stay so we could discuss your future."
Even after three years with this old preacher, Fischer still felt uneasy when Chalker called him in for an unknown reason. Chalker slowly got out of his wheelchair, stretching his swollen legs a bit before sitting back down in his rocker, elevating his feet as the doctor fussed at him to do. Fischer sat straight and still, waiting to find Chalker's reason for the meeting.
"My son, this is going to be the first spring revival at a church of mine in over fifty years that I won't be up on the altar. Doc Nichols shows no sign of letting me get active again and I'm starting to feel my age." As Fischer tried to interrupt, Chalker waved him off, "No, no, I'm not saying I think the Lord is ready to take me yet. You can bet that I'll be around for a good while yet, but our plans and our prayers are about to be answered. With this revival tour and three young and healthy preachers, the Pentecostal faith is going to survive and flourish in this world.
"Dieter, you've read enough on the history of the movement to know that our faith tends to fracture pretty easily. Lots of different Pentecostal faiths back up-time, you know. Trust me, the same thing is going to happen here. When it does, and if I'm not around for you to come to, I want you to know that it's the working of the Holy Spirit and nothing against the leadership you're providing the movement."
Fischer had felt a little uncomfortable at the thought of his becoming the central figure in this denomination. He remembered the tendency that Chalker pointed out being mentioned in his reading on Pentecostalism, but having Chalker put it in such a personal way somehow made it seem more real.
"Dieter, keep your arms open to all during this revival. Invite the hurt up on the stage with you and show them God's love in front of the congregation. That will convey our message just as surely as anything else we could do. You've really mastered the art of moving a congregation during your Sunday afternoon services. With a revival, you'll have to step it up a notch to bring the first time attendees into the fold. Remember, every soul is there for a reason which most of them don't yet recognize.
"That's your job. Open them up to their feelings. Pull their emotions out and let them hear that voice. If you do that, the Holy Spirit will take the lead and you'll be fine.
"As the church grows, you'll be the person the new church leaders will look to, not me. Just like the newer Elders and a lot of our congregation members tend to look to you first. That's just the way it is." As the light from the setting sun slowly disappeared over the horizon, Chalker's lessons in church leadership concluded with a long prayer.
Fischer walked home a troubled man that evening. He was now on a course that only faith could guide him along and that remained a very scary proposition.