Several assumed, at first, that the women were present to incite the mob. Not for long, though. Rafael Abrabanel, who had married an up-timer, let out resounding shrieks of, "No, you idiots!" and redirected their attention.
They did not use guns. After all, the Grantville synagogue was right in the center of town. Defense by firearms, conducted in the public street, would be as likely to hit innocent bystanders or the children in Frau Dreeson's academy across the street. An individual like Buster might not concern himself over that, but a standing organized defense guard couldn't afford to ignore the possibility.
It didn't matter. Short of guns, the defense force was quite well armed with swords and clubs—and given the prior conduct of the rioters, they certainly didn't have to worry of being accused afterward of using excessive force. By the time they were done, only four of the rioters who'd been reckless enough to stay around to brawl with Buster were still alive. And two of them would not be, within minutes. Like Buster, they'd bleed to death in the street.
Denise was the first non-combatant on the scene, when it was all over. By then, her father was dead. There wasn't any doubt about that. There was blood everywhere. His wounds were pretty ghastly.
So, she knelt by his side, holding the hand that wasn't completely mangled. She said nothing; did not weep. It was not the girl's way. Just stared at the hills above the town, not really seeing them at all.
Mathurin Brillard walked casually up to the trolley stop by the Central Funeral Home.
He could still hear shooting from the direction of the hospital, so he crossed the street, where he could catch one of the cars heading west, toward the intersection of Route 250 and the Badenburg road.
He decided he would walk from there, rather than renting a horse at the livery stable. No need to bring his face to anyone's attention.
Chapter 48
Grantville
Under the influence of Mary Ward, the mother superior of the English Ladies or "Jesuitesses" whom she had met during her Bavarian adventures the summer before, Veronica had started attending mass regularly. She could walk downtown with Henry, see him into the Presbyterian church for the ten o'clock sermon, run a couple of errands, fulfill her duty, which she now felt vaguely obliged to fulfill, and then be back to walk home with him after he and Enoch Wiley finished their regular Sunday chat.
It worked. She worried about having him walk by himself any more. She had changed her schedule at the school this winter. She had hired an extra attendant so she could walk with him to City Hall in the morning and return home with him in the evening. If he fell, it could do a lot of damage. Dr. Nichols recommended that he start using a walker instead of the cane. Henry referred to that as 'the beginning of the end.' "
She wished that he would use the walker. If there had to be an end, she would rather have it not come for quite a while than have it come now. There was no reason to let him slip on a patch of black ice frozen on the sidewalk.
The walls at St. Mary's were so thick that they muffled all the noise. The parishioners spilled out into the middle of the after-attack activity down by the main bridge.
Henry? She started to run toward the Presbyterian church.
"Mrs. Dreeson?"
A man was waving at her, beckoning her to the front of the synagogue.
She knelt down by the two men who'd been shot.
She had seen death all too often before.
So had Annalise, who was suddenly standing behind her, Idelette Cavriani at her side.
Where had Annalise come from? They had left her at home, looking after the children. She went to early mass, came home and fixed breakfast, and was there when her grandmother and Henry started out. The cook and housekeeper had Sunday off. Martha would be out at St. Martin's in the Fields, still. Who was taking care of Gretchen's children?
"I checked," Annalise said. "As soon as someone phoned me. Thea and Nicol are at the house with Willi and Joey and the other children."
Veronica spared the couple the first kind thought she had given them since she had parted with them in Grafenwöhr the previous summer.
"Thea said that they'd been getting ready to have a romantic lunch to celebrate their first anniversary. Anniversary of what?"
Her grandmother was getting up off her knees, to get out of the way of the men who had come with a stretcher. "Ganz ehrlich," she said, looking at the two girls, "braucht ihr beide das gar nicht wissen."
Annalise wondered why on earth she didn't need to know that. Then she started counting backwards from the date of little Anna Elisabetha's birth and came up with a pretty good idea. Idelette, who had apparently been conducting the same exercise in mental mathematics, winked at her. They then turned their minds to the obligations of mourning.