“Hmm, well, you did agree that it was only fair to meet her before making any decisions.”
“Yes, I so agreed. I am not sure why we had to meet out here.”
“I think she wanted to show you something.”
They stood on a hill near the southwest rim of the Ring Wall. When Grantville was deposited into seventeenth-century Thuringia, it was in such a way that, in general, the Grantville terrain was lower than the surrounding Thuringian land. Nowhere was the transition more dramatic than here in the southwest, where the Ring separated the power plant from the castle of Schwarzburg.
“Well, I can’t complain about the view.” Where the Ring Wall was intact, it was perfectly smooth, and shone like a mirror in the morning sunlight. Some of the rock had been destabilized by the change, and had fallen onto the American side. The Schwarza river dropped sharply, perhaps ten or fifteen feet, forming the Schwarza waterfall. It was a triangular curtain of water, higher on river left than river right. It then descended, in a series of smaller drops and rapids, over the bed newly formed by the fallen rock, to the Grantville valley floor. The path was not a straight one. First, it paralleled the Ring Wall, then it curved away. Ultimately, the water entered the Spring Branch, a tributary of Buffalo Creek.
“So, when will I meet this Maria?”
“Here she comes now.” Lowe pointed upriver, at a lone figure in a bright red kayak at the top of the falls. As David gaped, the kayaker pencilled over. David ran to a better vantage point, expecting to see an overturned kayak, and perhaps a lifeless body spinning in the foam.
Maria was already past the hydraulic at the foot of the falls, and gave them a quick salute with her paddle as she rested in an eddy. She then paddled on. They watched as she “boof-stroked” over a second, smaller waterfall.
“So, I hope you are up to a bit of a hike, now. We have to go down to the valley floor so you can properly question this, uh, delicate flower of Dutch society.”
Maria’s Mission
September 1633 to Early 1634
Grantville, September 1633
“You’ve heard the news, Mevrouw Vorst?” A red-faced David de Vries brandished a folded copy of the Grantville Times as if it were a club.
Maria Vorst turned to face him. “Who hasn’t, Captain? Is it really as bad as the papers say?”
“Probably worse. Over sixty warships destroyed by French and English treachery.” To a Dutch captain, especially one with the fighting reputation of David Pieterszoon de Vries, this was the worst possible news. He had friends aboard that fleet, friends now dead or fled to parts unknown. The Republic had needed him, and he hadn’t been there.
Belatedly, he added, “Haarlem has fallen to a coup de main. And the Voice of America just announced that the northern provinces are said to be in revolt against the prince of Orange.”
“What about Leiden?” That was Maria’s home town.
“Not yet under siege, so far as the Americans know, but it’s only a matter of time. It’s bracketed by Spanish forces at Haarlem to the north and Den Haag to the south.”
“My brother . . . and his wife . . .” Maria’s voice quavered.
“There was no massacre in Haarlem, or Rotterdam, at least. And Leiden is hardly likely to offer resistance. So there is no reason for the Spanish army to adopt . . . stern measures.”
“And the prince, he will want to protect the university, surely.”
“Probably. Although if your family was prudent, they probably fled to the countryside. They certainly had enough warning.”
“I hope for the best.” Maria paused. “And your wife?”
“She is in Hoorn. The Spanish will probably check to make sure that no warships are hiding in its harbor. Otherwise, I don’t think it will be directly affected by the fighting. The Spanish will land more troops at Egmont, and move them south to complete the investment of Amsterdam. Once the siege line is drawn close to Amsterdam, Hoorn will be militarily irrelevant.”
“That sounds promising . . . as much as anything can be promising in these evil times.”
“But, Mevrouw Vorst, you realize that this means that we can’t go to Suriname after all.”
“Why not?”
“It is my duty to fight the invaders. My ship, the Walvis, is in Hamburg, and it is well armed; it was outfitted as a privateer. I can attack the Spanish supply ships; perhaps send small boats into Amsterdam.”
“That is courageous of you.”
David bowed.
“But Captain, is that really the best you can do against the Spanish?”
David bristled. “Surely you don’t expect me to attack the Spanish fleet singlehandedly.”