"Why?"
"The introduction says that he's from Tipperary." Simrock disappeared out the door.
"He's lucky that Brahe put him in the Fulda Barracks Regiment," Hartke commented. "In any other unit, he'd have been flogged to death by now. But he's really sort of useful, in his own way. Not as a soldier, exactly, but in his own way."
Utt smiled his agreement. Not that the Fulda Barracks Regiment had ever been, precisely, famous for its strict attention to military protocol. He was pretty sure that not even the most wildly radical CoC regiment could be worse at that.
"There's something I did notice," Hartke said. "Gruyard wasn't with the bunch we routed. That means he has to be with the batch that made it into Schorndorf."
"Both of them are dead," Theo said. "Papa and Friedrich. During the night."
"It wasn't unexpected." Eberhard stared at his boots. "Did he forgive them?"
"No," Theo said. "But he will."
Tata raised her eyebrows. "How can a dead man forgive?"
" 'Like a fluttering sparrow or a darting swallow an undeserved curse does not come to rest.' That is part of the wisdom of Solomon. I am not going to leave Margarethe to live under an undeserved curse." Theo straightened his shoulders. "She's going to get a letter from me, saying that they died in the same hospital tent, on neighboring cots. Which is perfectly true. The letter will also say that I exercised my persuasive powers to the utmost to bring Papa to a change of heart. That is also true. If she concludes that I succeeded . . . I'm not going to feel the slightest obligation to correct her assumption and I certainly hope . . ." He looked directly at Simrock, "that no one else ever will, either."
"Stuttgart," Eberhard said. "It isn't far from here to Stuttgart. Friedrich can be buried with our parents."
Tata put her head on his shoulder.
"I don't have the money to send Papa's body back to Hesse," Theo said. "He'll have to be buried here, like the other casualties, in unconsecrated ground."
Eberhard made a negative gesture. "Send him to Stuttgart with Friedrich. Bury him with our family. It's a Lutheran church and he's a Calvinist minister, but we own the crypt and for all practical purposes, we appoint the pastor. Pistor may turn over and over in the grave I give him, but it will probably make Margarethe feel better, so I decree that it will happen. Occasionally, there are advantages to simply being the boss."
"Eberhard," Tata said.
"What?"
"They shouldn't radio this to Mainz. They shouldn't radio this or put in a newspaper. Margarethe shouldn't find out that way. At the very least, they should let Theo send her a letter first."
He sighed. "It doesn't work that way. Whoever gets the news first will plaster it all over."
"Up-time," Joel said, "the army notified the next of kin. I've seen pictures, from the second world war. Two soldiers, walking up to a house, to tell the wife or mother."
"That was then. Now . . ." Eberhard looked out at the camp. "For half our men, probably, we don't even know who they really are, or where they come from."
"We know for Friedrich," Tata said stubbornly. "We know for Chaplain Pistor. Make them let me use the radio. I'll send a message to Papa. Someone in the CoC can tell her—not just some headline or broadcast. I'll make sure to say that Theo is alive and will be writing to her right away."
Section Five: See, I have given you this land.
Schorndorf, Württemberg, May 1635
"That was an outright catastrophe," Butler proclaimed. "We've lost nearly half the effectives we had when we left Euskirchen, two colonels, and a half-dozen other officers, before we have even reached Bavaria. Duke Maximilian is not going to be a happy man."
"And when Maximilian is unhappy, everybody is unhappy." Deveroux looked up. "Where did that phrase come from? It's been making the rounds for months."
"I greatly fear," Anna Marie von Dohna said, "that it originates from a comedy routine that is performed on the Voice of America."
Deveroux subsided.
"Where did you hear the Voice of America, O charming spouse of mine?"
"Dislav told me."
"At least we made it into Schorndorf."
"Barely."
"Once more," Brandt said. "The tuna tin is very weak, but I want to try just once more."
"Where am I going to throw the antenna, here inside a town?" Heisel asked.
"We are in the garrets, on the top floor of the castle. If you can lean out the window, after dark, and swing the wire with the rock on the end out a little and then up, over the roof tiles . . ."