The Ram Rebellion(102)

He shook his head. "But, that is for later. For now, in terms of your immediate business, I will be glad to give you a discount. You are, after all, one of Patrick's partners—and I hold stock in the company myself. I'll have Horst prepare all of my modern guns for shipping. We'll talk about price and discounts when I know what we have."





"Herr Blumroder," Anse responded, "I have a team and a wagon at the factory. We can pick up the weapons and save you any shipping costs."





"Ja, even better." Ruben turned and called to his clerk. "Horst, wieviele moderne Waffen haben wir im Geschäft?"





Horst's immediately started making a count of the modern flintlocks. After a short time, he handed a list to Blumroder.





"It seems we have twenty-one rifles and twelve pistols on hand. Will that be enough for your needs? I will personally add a powder flask and bullet pouch for each weapon to the order at no charge."





Anse did his own calculations. "With the ten rifles and thirty smoothbore Pat has at the factory, that makes sixty-one long guns and twenty-two pistols. Yes, Herr Blumroder, that will make a proper wagon load. Gold on delivery, when I leave Suhl. Will that be acceptable?"





"Ach, pay the money to Patrick," Blumroder said, waving his hand. "I trust him to give me my share. It is not safe to walk around with that much money."





January 21, 1633




When Anse walked into the factory office two days later, early in the morning, Jochen Rau was waiting for him, along with another man.





"Herr Hatfield, I would like to introduce Jorg Hennel, one of the members of CoC here in Suhl. Herr Hennel, this is Warrant Officer Anse Hatfield of the N.U.S. Army."





Anse studied the man with Rau. He was a bit younger than Rau, in his early twenties at a guess, and a bit shorter. But, all in all, the two looked enough alike to be cousins. Given odds, Anse would have bet that a couple of years earlier Jorg had been in the same business as Rau. He had that look about him.





Anse stuck out his hand. "I am pleased to meet you, Herr Hennel," he said in German.





Hennel replied in English, after shaking the hand. "Ich bin—I am—Jorg. You are Anse." His smile was a brash sort of thing, the kind of smile a young man puts on when he's trying to probe an older one. "Jochen was trying to impress me with how important you are."





Anse smiled back. "I'm not much given to formalities, myself. I assume you have some of the information I asked Jochen to find out."





"Yes. He asked for my help in finding who is selling weapons to those Bavarian and Austrian pigs. But perhaps you do not need my help."





Anse frowned. "Why do you say that? We still don't know who's shipping guns or how much they're shipping."





Hennel shook his head. "You just visited—just yesterday again—the man who is the worst offender."





"Blumroder? Ruben Blumroder? He's shipping guns to unfriendly princes?"





"You didn't know?"





Anse shook his head. "No. Are you sure?"





Rau interjected. "Not only his own guns, either, Anse. It seems that Blumroder is something in the way of a general factor for all the gunmakers in Suhl. He puts together gun shipments from many shops and every two weeks he sends out a pack train loaded with guns to Nürnberg. But only part of the pack train arrives there."





"The rest is split off," said young Hennel. "At Schleusingen, we think. What is your American expression?—'peeled away,' I think—before it gets there. That part goes south to Bavaria, we think, probably Munich. From there . . ."





He shrugged. "The Bavarians and Austrians are close. `Thick as thieves,' I think you say."





"You've seen this?"





For the first time, Jorg Hennel didn't look brash. Indeed, he seemed a bit embarrassed. "Well . . . no. We know it's true, but we are not woodsmen. Certainly not Jaeger—and Blumroder always has some Jaeger to guard his pack trains. If we tried to follow, they would surely spot us."





And might very well shoot you, Anse thought to himself.





The Jaeger were nobody to fool with. They were seventeenth-century Germany's equivalent to forest rangers, game wardens, and professional hunters, essentially. The best-positioned worked on a salaried basis for a national authority. Well, for a principality, at least. For a duke or count. Younger men, or those less well-connected, worked on what amounted to a contract basis for local employers until someone retired or was injured or died and a cousin or brother-in-law put in a good word so he could get a permanent slot when it opened. There were Jaeger family trees almost as complex as noble dynasties, and stretching over as many local borders and political boundaries as those of specialty guilds such as the glassmakers.