Veronica nodded.
"They made me so mad," Helena said. "It's not as if we were doing anything except laughing. Which I get little enough of. Self-righteous old . . . biddies."
Wackernagel shrugged. "You heard what they said."
"They can't do anything to me. Not really." Helena leaned her elbows on the counter. "It's not as if I had a fiancé who could break our betrothal in outrage. Or anything close to a fiancé. So, I suppose, it all depends on whether or not you want to risk it."
Wackernagel picked up his hat. "I'll plan on seeing you the next time I come through, then."
Grantville
"I don't know when he'll be back, Clara," Wes said. "Someone else brought the bag in from Fulda this week. The guy said that the people in Fulda, Utt and the others, have been picking up some information about Gruyard and what happened to the abbot. Schweinsberg, that is. I wouldn't trust the new man, Hoheneck, farther than I could shake a stick at him, as Granny used to say.
"Meier zum Schwan in Frankfurt picked up some information. Sent it to the Hanauer rabbi, who diverted Wackernagel off to make a direct trip to Magdeburg with stuff for Francisco Nasi."
"Well, good riddance." She paused. "Wesley?"
"Ummn."
"Now that you have been assigned to this 'uniform matrimonial legislation' project for the SoTF and maybe the whole USE? What is the law on this man? What does it say? All three of the towns are in the SoTF now, but when he married, they were in three different countries. All in the Holy Roman Empire, but three different jurisdictions. Bindersleben, then, was under Erfurt, but over Erfurt, that part, was the archbishop of Mainz. Steinau belonged to the counts of Hanau. Vacha to the abbey of Fulda. Who is . . . responsible?"
Wes sighed. "Clara, honey, have you seen any of those little statues around Grantville. The ones with the three monkeys. One with his hands over his ears, one with his hands over his eyes, one with his hands over his mouth?"
"Yes. Someone, I can't remember who right now, has one on his desk."
"There's a lot to be said for that motto."
"What motto?"
"The monkey statue motto. 'Hear no evil, see no evil, speak no evil.' "
"I sort of hope you didn't arrive by way of Badenburg," Wes said.
Wackernagel gave him one of those smiles. "By way of Jena, this time. I rode the railway from Halle. It was . . . interesting. I had heard of the surveying being done up north of Fulda, of course, through southern Hesse-Kassel. But until I experienced it for myself . . . I suppose it's something I will have to factor into my future plans."
"All right, then. My wife is a woman with strong opinions, you understand."
"I agree entirely."
"You know what they are, too." Having disposed of family obligations, Wes got back to government business. "Now, I have something that has to get to Derek Utt as fast as you can move it. The boy's taking every drop of advantage he can squeeze from the lemon during this interregnum over there, without a civilian administrator to ride herd on him. Since I left and before Mel Springer can get there to take over. He took it hard when Hoheneck let us know what had happened to Schweinsberg. Real hard."
Wackernagel took the packet.
Wes reached into his shirt pocket. "Take this to him, too. It's a letter from Mary Kat."
Wackernagel raised his eyebrows.
"His wife." Wes grinned. "They were married last February and haven't seen each other since the honeymoon. Which lasted three days. Remind him from me that if he doesn't take his long-overdue leave and come home for Christmas, he's going to have a really pissed lady lawyer on his tail."
Badenburg, November 1634
"Ah," Wackernagel said. "The fair Helena, whose face launched a thousand ships."
"This face," Helena said, "has never seen a boat bigger than a barge on the Ilm."
"Must you disillusion me? Such a skewering of my best efforts is positively discouraging."
She leaned forward, her elbows resting on the counter. She knew she shouldn't be doing this. Not for her sake, but for his. She had no doubt that Aunt Clara sincerely meant every threat she made.
On the other hand—he was by far the most entertaining man she had ever met. She was old enough to know what she was doing.
"If not a thousand ships," Wackernagel said, "then a hundred small barges, at the very least." He kissed her fingertips.
She giggled. And told herself that she could manage Aunt Clara. If it came to that.
December 1634
Etienne Baril, the Huguenot lawyer who worked for Andrea Hill in Fulda, still regarded Wes Jenkins as his real pipeline into the SoTF and, therefore, the USE governmental structure. The next time Wackernagel came through, he gave him a letter when the courier dropped in to ask how Liesel was doing.