The Ram Rebellion(100)

"The whole army's stretched tight as a drum, Pat," he said, by way of an explanation-excuse.





"Sure, I know. Just like I know that it probably looked like a smart idea, back up there in Grantville, to shuffle him off to Suhl. But I can tell you it was one terrible idea. There's enough trouble here as it is, without us stirring up more of it. And why the hell do we need a `military liaison' in the first place? The whole damn Swedish garrison isn't more than maybe forty men."





Anse didn't bother answering the question, since it was obviously rhetorical. The answer was the same, anyway: Somebody in headquarters thought it would be a bright idea to get rid of Horton by saddling Suhl with him.





"What about that `trouble'?" he asked, instead. "We told you what we saw on the way here. Are you seeing any of that here?"





"Anse, I've lived here now for over a year, and I've made a lot of friends among the local gunmakers. Masters and their journeymen, both. As you can see, I dress and live just like my neighbors, but no one is talking to me about politics. There's less than a dozen of us uptimers here, and none of us know what's going on. We know there's a lot of bad feeling about Gustavus Adolphus giving Franconia to Grantville to govern, but it doesn't seem directed at us, so much. Not personally, I mean. It's just that I doubt you could find three people anywhere in the area who'd give you two cents for Gustavus Adolphus and his Swedes."





He sipped from his beer. "The truth is that there's really nobody in charge this close to Franconia, beyond the limits of the major towns. We're now officially the top honchos, sure—but we don't have anybody south of the Thuringenwald except a handful of people scattered in the big towns and a `military force' that's just barely this side of a joke. The Swedes have small garrisons here and there, but since everybody hates them, nobody ever turns to them for help. I doubt they'd be any help, anyway. Truth us, I don't have a much higher opinion of the mercenaries working for Gustavus Adolphus here than the locals do."





He dipped into his beer again, this time for a full swallow. "All that adds up to Franconia and the mountains of the Thuringenwald outside of the walled cities and fortified villages becoming a magnet for every gang of robbers and thieves around—of which they're are plenty, after fifteen years of this madhouse war. The difference between `army deserter' and `bandit' is the difference between Monday and Tuesday. And on Wednesday, often enough—maybe Thursday—you'll find them reenrolled in somebody's army. Here, it's likely to be the Swedish army, which makes everybody trust them even less."





"Have you talked to the CoC leaders?"





Pat issued a sarcastic snort. "Leaders? Anse, get real. The Committees of Correspondence here in Suhl—everywhere in Franconia, so far as I can tell—don't amount to more than handful of kids. The CoCs are not popular even here in Suhl, the way they are further north in Thuringia. Not anywhere in Franconia, so far as I know."





He paused to take a bite of his stew, and washed it down with some more beer. Then, continued:





"The attitude of people here toward the CoCs is pretty much the same as their attitude toward us. Uptimers, I mean. They don't have anything against us personally—not yet, anyway—but since we're associated with the Swedes they figure we can't be worth much, either. They certainly don't trust us, as a group, with the exception of some individuals here and there. Some of the villages in the Thuringenwald, too, like the one you ran across. They've had longstanding ties with Thuringia, many of them. But those people don't carry much weight in Suhl or any of the other major towns, once you get over the mountains."





Anse nodded. "Gotcha. Now, on another subject, I need to talk to you about something other than those guns going south. How many rifles, smooth bores and pistols do you have on hand right now?"





Pat looked thoughtful for a moment. "Finished . . . maybe ten pistols, ten to twelve rifles and at least thirty smooth bores. Wait a couple of days and we can add a dozen more pistols, four rifles, and maybe ten more smooth bores. Rifling takes time, but we can make three pistols for every rifle. Most of our guns are shipped as soon as we finish them. Ruben might have another dozen pistols, and ten to fifteen rifles in his shop. I know he's sold out of smooth bores. He was by last night wanting more."





"Ruben?" Anse asked.





"Ruben Blumroder. He's one of the major gunmakers here—owns some of the stock in our company, too, plus being involved in the same trade in Schleusingen. That's about ten or twelve miles farther down the road. Maybe in some other towns, too. He has a lot of connections all through this region. He's friendly and has been a big help to us. In fact, without him I don't think Joe and I could have got our factory started as fast as we did. The man knows everyone in town, and was able to recommend some good gunsmiths looking for work. He speaks something like eight languages, including English. But why are you asking about what guns I have on hand?"