Страница 61 из 135
Over the next few weeks, the crowds packed into the refugee centers would start thi
The rest? The ones to whom Gretchen would not give the nod?
They expected to be executed, of course. Their actual fate was far more bizarre-and, truth be told, much more unsettling.
None of those men had ever seen a photograph before. Seeing one-seeing their own faces on it-was bad enough. The writing on the posters was worse. Many of those men could read. Most of them, actually, since Gretchen had a low opinion of officers. The ones who couldn't got a translation from their literate fellows.
The posters were identical, except for the photograph and the name.
wanted-dead
this man is declared outlaw
if he is found anywhere in american territory
after july 5, 1631
kill him
no questions will be asked
Heinrich acted as interpreter.
"You've got two days," he growled. "Better move fast. You're on foot with nothing but the clothes on your backs."
The former commander of the tercio cleared his throat. "This is unclear," he whined. "Just how far does this-this 'American territory' extend?"
Heinrich turned to Mike for the answer. Mike said nothing. He just gave the commanding officer a stare.
A few months later, the officer found himself another employer. The Tsar. Russia, he thought, would be far enough.
Chapter 29
It may or may not have been July Fourth, depending on whom you asked. The division ran essentially along religious lines, but not entirely. The modern Gregorian calendar had been decreed by a papal bull in 1582, and was immediately adopted by Spain, Portugal, France and Italy. Within two years, most of the Catholic states of the Holy Roman Empire had followed suit, along with those portions of the Low Countries still under Spanish control. The Swiss started the process in 1583, but stalled immediately-the new calendar would not be accepted in the entire country until 1812. And the Hungarians took it for their own in 1587.
Then… Nothing, for a century. The Protestant and Orthodox nations dug in their heels and stayed with the Julian calendar.
So, what day was it? Well, according to the Scots cavalrymen and the Protestants from Badenburg who had come for the celebration, it most certainly was not the Fourth of July. Preposterous! It was No matter. Grantville was an American town, and the Americans said it was the Fourth of July. And besides Everybody loves a parade!
As official parades go, it was utterly disorganized. Henry Dreeson had tried desperately to bring rhyme and reason to the marching order, but the mayor had been overwhelmed by events and enthusiasm. Events, in that everyone was too preoccupied with integrating the former Catholic prisoners into their new world. Enthusiasm, in that the high-school students had their own opinion on the proper order of things. Especially Julie Sims, who led the rebellion with verve and йlan.
The town's mayor was one man, in his sixties. He lost.
Cheerleaders first.
When they heard the news, the Scotsmen were delighted. They were less delighted-downright disgruntled-when they discovered their own assigned place in the parade.
Tha' far back? We'll nae see nothin' o' those high-steppin' knees! Ridic'lous!
So, the first little fray in the marching order began. Calvinists all, the Scots cavalrymen knew that man was born in sin and they were bound and determined to prove it. A full third of them had left their place in the parade before it even started. The parade route being jammed full of people, the Scots rebels cheerfully trotted their mounts down the side streets and alleys until they found the proper vantage points from which to observe the parade. And why not? It wasn't as if their horses needed the exercise.
Despite his own avid desire to admire Julie's knees, Mackay tried to stop them. But Le
"Be a' ease, laddie," he said serenely. "Parades are a silly business anyway, an' t'Americans di
Flushing, Mackay rescued his ice-cream cone in the only ma
"Marvelous stuff," he mumbled. "How do they-mumble-it?"
Le
Le
Armored perso
Le
Ice cream, yes. Willie Ray had shown him the large stock of flavorings still available in the markets. And we can tap the maple trees for sugar. The refined sugar's almost gone.
So was the grain, and the vegetables, and the meat, and the eggs. Even with rigorous rationing, the food stocked in the town's supermarkets had not lasted more than two months, just as their owners and managers had predicted. The small number of American farms which had come through the Ring of Fire could not possibly make up the difference. That had been true even before Grantville's population doubled, after the battle.
Le
That much Le
But why call it the Battle o' the Crapper? He understood the reference, but not the reasoning. They were a quirky folk, the Americans. Le
He didn't understand the logic, quite. The edges of it, perhaps, and the grim humor which lurked somewhere inside. But not the heart of the thing. It was too contradictory, too American. Only a nation of commoners, he decided, each of whom thought like a nobleman, could find logic there. An ice-cream nation, confident that the grain and meat would be found.