Then the singer came on with a verse in German. Oddly accented German, but definitely German. Cunz Kastenmayer, one of the numerous sons of Pastor Ludwig Kastenmayer, who had been recruited to serve as Dreeson's translator on the tour because of his linguistic talents, asked, "When was this sung, and where?"
The other half of the audience was a professional courier. "Where's this 'Rennsteig,' " Wackernagel asked.
"Right here in Thuringia," Cunz answered. "Or, rather, it runs down the ridges of the Thüringerwald and generally marks the border between Thuringia and Franconia. It goes right through Suhl, almost. It's been there as long as anyone can remember, back into the media aeva between classical times and the modern. A messenger route, about a hundred of your up-time miles long, Mayor Dreeson."
"Nowhere near as long as the Imperial Road, the Reichsstrasse," Wackernagel remarked with satisfaction.
"Needs a lot of repairs, too. The encylopedia says that in the other history, it was Duke Ernst—Wettin's brother, the one who's regent in the Upper Palatinate now—who fixed it up, a few years from now in their future, as a fast way to move German troops into Austria in case of attacks by the Turks."
"Is it as old as the Reichsstrasse?" Wackernagel asked with some interest.
Cunz shook his head. "I don't know."
"Did either of you ever hear of Al Smith?" Dreeson asked.
Neither one had.
"Ran for President against Hoover in 1928. On the Democratic ticket. They called him the 'happy warrior.' Way back. Well, not as far back as Wordsworth. If you look in that book over there, Cunz, next to the bay window, you'll find the Collected Works of William Wordsworth. My grandfather died when I was just five years old, but he left that book to me in his will. The poem's in there, if you want to read it.
"Then later, in my day, that's what they called Hubert Humphrey, too. I listened to his speech on the radio—the one at the Democratic national convention in 1948. I was about fifteen, I guess. Old enough to pay attention. 'To those who say that this civil rights program is an infringement on states' rights, I say this, that the time has arrived in America for the Democratic Party to get out of the shadows of states' rights and walk forthrightly into the bright sunshine of human rights.'
"Hell, even Reagan used it. 'So, let us go forth with good cheer and stout hearts—happy warriors out to seize back a country and a world to freedom.' No point in tossing out a good slogan just because you didn't agree with the guy who said it. What else are we trying to do—the Fourth of July Party, I mean?"
Dreeson started the record playing again.
"I think we need a theme song for this tour we're taking over to Fulda and Frankfurt. Happy Wanderer should do it. It's close enough to 'happy warrior.' Even if it is about the wrong road."
Neither of them was in a position to argue. Not even when Mayor Dreeson decided that, in the absence of a sound system, the two of them would have the privilege of singing it at every single stop. Once Cunz had remodeled the German words a bit, to turn it into a political theme song.
"At least," Cunz said, "you can carry a tune. And I play the lute, which is a lot better than playing the bagpipes, for example, if he expects me to be singing, too."
October 1634
Wackernagel breathed a sigh of relief when the motorcade left Vacha, escorted by a portion of the soldiers from the Fulda Barracks Regiment. Utt's arrival had certainly been timely. In the short period Mayor Dreeson was at Rufina's house, it hadn't dawned on him that those fascinated kids belonged to his friend Wackernagel. Whereas the insistence of the military commander on increased security had moved the mayor to a different location without raising Rufina's suspicions. Which would certainly have risen up if her husband had suggested that they shouldn't provide hospitality for such an honored guest.
Scot free.
Except.
"You do realize," Cunz Kastenmayer said, "that you're damned lucky they chose me to be the interpreter on this trip. Not my brother the junior minister. Not my brother the bureaucrat who has sworn an oath to uphold the laws. Just a law student."
Wackernagel started to answer when the bushes at the edge of the road parted and a girl jumped in front of the lead car.
Which wasn't that dangerous. Because of the condition of the road between Vacha and Fulda, along with having to accommodate the mounted escort, the ATVs weren't moving over five miles per hour.
A couple of the soldiers rode ahead.
The girl waved both hands in the air to show she was unarmed.
Wackernagel jumped out and yelled, "Liesel, what are you doing?"
"Running away," Liesel Bodamer answered cheerfully. "I hate my guardians. They're mean and make me learn to embroider. Papa might not have been much of a father in a lot of ways, but at least he didn't keep me inside the house all the time. So I'm going to Fulda. Mrs. Hill didn't want them to send me to my mother's relatives in Schlitz, to start with. So I'm going to her and I thought I'd hitch a ride."