The Ram Rebellion(167)
* * *
Soon many more lambs in the field could be seen
Brillo, 'tis Brillo, 'tis Brillo
Their coarse kinky wool had no fine silken sheen
Brillo, 'tis Brillo, 'tis Brillo
As they chased off a wolfling with kicks full of fire,
Their great bravery somewhat reduced my sad ire,
"Oh, tell me, brave lambkins, just who is your sire?"
"Brillo, 'tis Brillo, 'tis Brillo!"
At the bottom was an announcement that a German translation would be provided on the third page, along with the announcement of a contest to see who could produce the best German versification of the rhymes. From experience, Steve knew that within a month this new Brillo fable would have transmuted into half a dozen variations—all of which were aimed at the Franconian establishment.
"How in the hell did that stupid scruffy ram of Flo Richards' turn into an endless supply of gasoline poured on the flames?" Steve demanded. "Somebody please tell me."
Anita shrugged. "You might as well ask how in the hell a bunch of stupid tea leaves dumped into a harbor turned into something that's still talked about two hundred years later. Face it, Steve. This place needs a revolution—badly—and damn near anything could have served as the channel."
She headed toward the kitchen. "I still think it's cute. A lot cuter than tea leaves, that's for sure—and, for my money, it beats `one if by land, two if by sea' by a country mile."
"I'm a civil servant!" Steve protested.
"Yup. A veritable Chinese mandarin. In interesting times," came Anita's rejoinder from the kitchen.
Würzburg, early January, 1634
"Guess what, guys?" Saunders Wendell said, "we finally know who we are."
"What do you mean by that?" Scott Blackwell asked.
"They sent down someone to replace Meyfarth, and he brought along an official notice that the former New United States is no more. Bet Arnold Bellamy's happy to get rid of that NUS acronym! He was sure that everyone in Europe would start referring to us as `the nuts.'"
"Wonderful," Maydene Utt said. "What are we now?"
"Don't know. Steve's saving it for the meeting, when he introduces the guy."
"Who is he?"
"Don't know that, either. German. But he speaks English. A `must hire' from Axel Oxenstierna, I understand."
The door opened. Steve came in with a thin man who wore a mustache and a goatee. He had a twinkle in his eye. About fifty; older than the departed Meyfarth, at any rate. After the general exchange of "good mornings," Steve said: "I would like to introduce my new chief of staff to all of you. Ladies and gentlemen, Georg Rodolf Weckherlin, who is going to tell us who we are."
Weckherlin bowed with a flourish.
Scott Blackwell thought that the man would be happy on a stage, playing one of the Three Musketeers. When he opened his mouth, he sounded like he belonged in a Shakespeare play, too.
"Ah," Weckherlin said, "it was my privilege to be in Grantville delivering my letter of recommendation from the king's, ah, emperor's chancellor. Thus, I had a chance to observe this. First, there was a meeting of the cabinet, presided over by your President Mr. Piazza, to receive suggestions. Then there was a full session of the Congress.
"Someone suggested that it should be the Province of Thuringia. Mr. Arnold Bellamy raised most strenuous objections that he did not wish to be a citizen of PoT. An acronym which, by the way, the youngest son of your Mr. Thomas Stone was kind enough to enlighten me about just before he left for Italy."
Weckherlin grinned. Everyone else at the table broke into laughter.
"Ah, so therefore you are not a PoT. The cabinet did not even present the suggestion to the Congress.
"Then it was noted that Gustavus Adolphus himself had suggested `East Virginia.' This was not received with enthusiasm. An aspect of your prior history, I understand."
Nods all around the table.
"So, subject to a referendum at the next election, they have adopted the name . . ."
Weckherlin paused dramatically.
Twirled the ends of his moustaches.
"State of Thuringia."
"You know," Scott Blackwell commented, "I can't see that SoT is a big improvement on PoT."
"True, true." Weckherlin winked. "That is precisely what Mr. Bellamy said."
Laughter again.
Steve watched in admiration. In a few minutes, a man who came into the room as a complete stranger had managed to break the ice and make considerable strides toward being accepted as a member of the working group that it had taken him two years to develop.