December, 1633
Grantville
Casimir looked around his very own room in a boardinghouse in Grantville. Bed, table, a couple chairs, all well-made. He stepped out into the hallway, locking the door after him. Down the hall was a bathroom with running water and a flush toilet. Casimir checked his appearance in the finest mirror he had seen. He was on the short side, even for a down-timer. His hair was light brown, almost blond. So was his beard, which made it practically invisible. That was why he kept it trimmed in the Van Dyke fashion. Casimir habitually wore a serious expression, which he thought appropriate for his job.
He went downstairs, passing by the dining room where he had eaten most of his meals so far. He thought he would have enough left from his monthly stipend to eat at one of the restaurants in Grantville once in a while. But for now, he would be frugal. For someone who had run out of money for the University of Wittenberg just a few years ago, this job was an excellent opportunity.
The Duke of Saxe-Altenburg already had staff in Grantville, of course. Indeed, he and his family had spent time here themselves. But even the duke's coffers had limits. While Saxe-Altenburg needed an additional person with financial experience in Grantville, the duchy couldn't quite afford it. So, Casimir's supervisor at the bank, Georg Rudolph von Hessler, was providing a third of his stipend. And he expected a third of his time—which was only fair.
Casimir looked forward to learning about up-time banking and the stock exchange. But first, he was going back to school: English, Civics, and a library training course.
****
By mid-afternoon, he had been placed in an intermediate English as a Second Language class. He looked around the room at his classmates. They were from all across Europe. An Italian—Casimir had heard only the first name Giovanni. A monk of some sort. As a good Lutheran, Casimir had little experience with monks, but the man seemed to fit his mental image of one, spare and ascetic. A Hamburger, a Luebecker, a Swabian. A boisterous Palatiner. There were only a few women. One was a tall, blonde young woman who spoke with a Platt, or maybe a Dutch, accent. Another was shorter, also blonde, and had an accent Casimir vaguely associated with places further east. Polish, perhaps? Her face was one of the few in the room which didn't betray either excitement or wariness or both. Casimir noted it only because it suggested strong self-control for someone who appeared so young.
An even larger number of students had been sent to other classrooms, most of them to a beginning English class. Casimir was just as happy that included a man named Sprunck, who had instantly rubbed him the wrong way. A handful had been taken to an advanced English as a Second Language class, including an Englishman who stuck out because he was as tall as the up-timers.
Then the teacher began passing out books, and Casimir turned his attention to the language he thought he'd learned from the English and Scottish soldiers who passed through the Saxonies.
****
Casimir quickly fell into a routine of banking during the day and attending classes in the late afternoon and evening. He noticed patterns among his classmates. Some had come to Grantville to stay. That was easy to figure out, because they told everyone. They also asked a lot of questions in Civics class. Casimir placed himself in another category, those who had come to Grantville to work. Hans and Lorenz, for example, were both factors. Naturally Hans was the Luebecker, and Lorenz was the Hamburger. Both were primarily concerned with shipping goods—raw materials into Grantville and finished products out to other places.
Casimir went to the library when he could, because there were things he wanted to find out. Or things that the Duke of Saxe-Altenburg or Georg Rudolph von Hessler wanted to know. The third category of students was those who were in the library almost all the time, half-obscured behind tall piles of books, reading or taking notes in pencil. This included the two women Casimir had noticed, Giovanni, the Swabian, the Palatiner, Sprunck, and the monk. He wondered about them.
In the meantime, he had homework to do. Much of the English class was boring—spelling, vocabulary, and grammar. But Casimir still had to do the work, so today he headed to the cafeteria. These exercises were done in pen and ink, and that was not allowed in the library. Besides, with the near-continuous cooking and baking in the kitchen, the cafeteria was pleasantly warm.
Casimir spotted a familiar face at a corner table. It was the tall Englishman, who had a small book open in one hand and a paper and quill pen on the table in front of him. "I see we had the same idea," he said.
His fellow student looked up quickly. "So we did. Please join me. You are Casimir Wesner, a banker, are you not?" He said most of that in English.
"Ja." Casimir was taken aback, but quickly counterattacked. In German. "Either you have need of a banker, or you are not just another factor."
The man gave a quick laugh. "I am English, come here to Grantville to see what can be learned that might be useful to us."
"That is forthright. But from what I have heard, King Charles would not approve."
"I will ask you to keep it to yourself."
Casimir nodded slowly. "You do not really care if your presence is known. But you test me."
He nodded. "I am Mathew Woodruff—young and unknown here as well as in England. If I find something useful enough, King Charles might even be pleased with me. And, yes, I have found out that you are a banker but still an honest man."
Casimir was taken aback a second time. "What makes you say that?"
The Englishman leaned forward. "I have watched you in the library. You study the others. You avoid those with no morals. You help those who appear to have good intentions."
"I suppose that is accurate," Casimir allowed. He thought a moment. "What are you asking me to do?"
"To share information. There is so much here that I cannot master it all. Perhaps you will see something that helps me. Perhaps I will see something that helps you. Perhaps we can agree on others who might join us."
Casimir nodded slowly and pulled out the chair opposite Woodruff. "Who else have you been watching?"
"Everyone." Woodruff smiled.
Casimir sat down and consciously stopped himself from looking around the cafeteria to see if anyone was watching or listening. "Who are you considering approaching?" he asked quietly.
"Who would you approach?" Woodruff countered, just as softly.
Casimir rolled his eyes. "What about the Italian? Giovanni."
"He is a possibility."
"That monk. What is his name? V—something."
"Václav. From Bohemia."
Casimir racked his brain. "What about the Dutch girl?"
Woodruff grimaced. "We . . . ah, do not get along, as the up-timers say."
Casimir grinned. "That, ah, very lively discussion about predestination the two of you had after class last week?"
Woodruff looked away. "Yes. I am Calvinist. She is Arminian."
"I am Lutheran. The two of you are just different kinds of Reformed, as far as I can tell."
"What?!" Woodruff sputtered.
Casimir drove over him. "What about the other woman?"
"The Bohemian?"
"Yes. I know little about her."
"Me, either. But I think the monk knows her—or knows something about her. He does not seem to like her, at any rate."
Casimir nodded. "Any others? Sprunck?"
"Now you are testing me," Woodruff stated. "Sprunck is one of those with no morals and will be in trouble with Grantville's authorities soon enough."
"You are right." Casimir drew a breath. "How do you want to approach them?"
"Let us begin with the monk." Woodruff raised the paperback in his left hand. "Until then, we have work to do."
"What is that?" Casimir asked.
"A book for the advanced English class." Woodruff's tone was rueful. "I speak, read, and write English. This . . . is different. It is a fantasy, by an up-time Englishman. A Catholic, no less."
Casimir read the title. "The Two Towers?"
"The second of three books. The first one almost put me to sleep describing the lives of a race of little people. But then it became interesting."
"Interesting enough to take notes," Casimir observed.
Woodruff looked down at the paper in front of him and seemed to be considering what he had written there. At length he looked up. "These are items of interest to me. Like this one, the signal fires." He related how Gondor had requested help.
Casimir recognized that Woodruff was handing him a first piece of information. "That is potentially useful," he agreed. "Danke."
****
On the following evening, Casimir and Mathew approached Václav after their library research class.
The monk's eyes darted around as the last few other students left the classroom. "You want to work together?"
"Not all the time," Mathew explained. "I am looking for information useful to England." He nudged Casimir.
"I am looking for investment opportunities that could help the Saxonies," Casimir offered.
"If I hear of such an opportunity, I will tell Casimir," Mathew stated.
Václav looked from one to the other. "Very well. I seek any up-time information about my order, the Premonstratensians. Sometimes we are called Norbertines or White Canons."
It occurred to Casimir that Václav was not so much keeping his voice down as that he was simply used to speaking quietly, perhaps even infrequently. He studied Václav's white habit. "I was wondering about that. I thought monks wore brown."
"Some do. My order wears white. But we are friars, not monks."
Casimir shrugged. He was certain that Catholics had bigger problems than fine distinctions between monks and friars and what color their robes were.
"Also, I seek information on how the up-timers made beer. And I have some to sell."
Woodruff grinned. "And I like to drink it on occasion."
****
The three of them pulled Giovanni aside after the following evening's English class. He appeared bemused by their proposal.
"Why should I help you?" he asked.
"We will help you, too."
"Suppose I want something first?"
"Can you find all the technology or make use of all the investment opportunities or buy all of the goods?" Casimir asked. "Do what you need to do. Pass along what is left."
"I prefer to work alone. Excuse me." Giovanni hurried off down the hall toward the State Library.
"We may find something that helps you," Mathew called after him.
"I doubt it." Giovanni's words were muffled as he hadn't bothered to turn around.
Mathew shook his head. Václav shrugged. Casimir wondered what they'd done wrong.
****
It was not until the following week that Casimir saw an opportunity to speak with the Dutch girl when their library class was let out a few minutes early.
Mathew grabbed his arm. "Wait. Look who she is talking to," he quietly pointed out.
"The other woman," Casimir agreed.
"She is Bohemian," Václav said in his hushed voice. "I suspect she is Hussite."
"What is that?" Mathew asked.
Václav appeared genuinely shocked. "Followers of Jan Hus, who in turn followed the Englishman Wycliffe. Do you not know this?"
"No."
"Then working together is already helping us," Casimir pointed out.
"And the women are leaving."
"Follow them."
The two women proceeded down the hall to the cafeteria, where they got in line. The cafeteria served dinner. Some students ate before evening classes, others afterwards.
"Now what do we do?" Václav asked.
"We eat," Casimir answered. "We will sit at the next table and talk loudly enough for them to hear us."
A few minutes later, Casimir was eyeing his meal very dubiously. Traditional German food was just fine with him. But the up-timers had a dizzying variety of foods, just counting those they could still make. He poked at the meat pastry experimentally, sighed, and took a bite. It was spicy. He immediately gulped his small beer. Once recovered, he opened the conversation.
"So, Václav, you know about these men Hus and Wycliffe."
"Yes. They were heretics, many years ago."
"And here we sit—Catholic, Calvinist, and Lutheran." Casimir saw that one of the women was listening. "I will show you any information I find about beer, anyway."
"And I will tell you about investment opportunities," Václav returned.
"I, too," Mathew declared. "And if either of you find anything we could use in England?"
"We will certainly tell you," Casimir stated. Both of the ladies were paying attention now. "Meine Damen, you, too, are researchers. Is there any information we could pass along to you?"
"It depends on the price." The Bohemian hadn't quite snapped at him.
Casimir studied the two women. The Dutch woman was tall and blonde, with a button nose and lively eyes. The Bohemian was also blonde. She was of average height and only seemed short next to her classmate. She had an aquiline nose and sharper features in general. Casimir considered both of them attractive, and then set that thought aside.
"No price," Mathew was saying. "No one of us will find everything we want by ourselves."
The two women exchanged glances, giving Casimir a good idea what they had been talking to each other about.
"I am Casimir Wesner. I seek investments and business opportunities for the Saxonies." Casimir looked at Mathew.
"I am Mathew Woodruff, sent here to find out what might be useful to England."
The friar picked up his cue. "Brother Václav of the Premonstratensian Order. I have been assigned here to seek information about brewing and beer."
The shorter woman smiled. "We know who you are. But we do appreciate knowing what you are looking for." She hesitated, then said, "I am Eva Želivský, from Bohemia."
"And what information are you looking for?" Casimir asked.
"Engines."
"Engines?" Woodruff repeated.
Casimir noticed that Václav gave her a very hard look. She returned it in full. He definitely wanted to find out why. But first . . .
"And you?" he asked the Dutch woman.
"Josyntjie Boekhorst, from the United Provinces. I am interested in water. Pumps, dikes, engineering." She grinned mischievously. "And a Remonstrant."
"So I hear." Casimir kept his tone as neutral as he could. "As I told Mathew here, I am Lutheran. As far as I am concerned, both of you are Reformed."
Josyntjie's head snapped back. "It is a shame that we do not have an opposite for you. I might have expected the Catholic and the Lutheran to oppose each other, but apparently Václav has picked Eva as his foil."
"Oh, very good," Casimir told her. "Provoke conflict among us. But five have a better chance of finding something than two or three."
"Will you tell the next researcher that six have a better chance than five?" she asked.
"And who will the next one be?" Eva chimed in. "Giovanni or Sprunck?"
"Very good," Casimir noted with approval. "But Mathew here vetoed Sprunck, and Giovanni appears to have turned us down."
Josyntjie studied Mathew for a moment. "There may be hope for you yet, even if you are a Counter-Remonstrant."
Woodruff spread his hands. "Please. I am an English Puritan. We are trying to avoid your Dutch disputes."
Josyntjie smiled. "Perhaps if you can truly ignore them, we may occasionally direct one another to useful information. If Václav will consent to the same arrangement with Eva."
Casimir nodded. That is one dispute pushed to the side. The other . . . It must be brought out into the open. He addressed Václav and Eva. "I perceive tension between you."
"Ja." Eva bit off the syllable. "I am of the Unitas Fratrum. He is Catholic."
"She is a Hussite," Václav spat out.
Casimir realized that he had to get each of them to focus their anger on someone besides each other. And as Josyntjie had pointed out, he didn't have a foil. I must jump in the middle. "I do not understand why you carry a grudge against her," he told Václav. "We Lutherans demanded much greater reforms than the Hussites did." He turned to Eva. "And your people's grudge is as much against the Holy Roman Empire as against the Catholic Church, is it not? And the Unitas Fratrum is allied with Wallenstein now."
"That is true," Eva acknowledged.
"Ja," Václav agreed.
"What is your stance toward Wallenstein, Václav?" Casimir pressed.
"He is a usurper," Václav ground out. "But he is allied to the United States of Europe, and my instructions are to support the United States of Europe."
"Mine were, too," Mathew Woodruff offered. "That is, to support the Confederated Principalities of Europe. And I have received no instructions to the contrary."
"And mine," Eva Želivský stated.
Josyntjie Boekhorst nodded. "Mine as well."
Casimir smiled. "As the only, ah, citizen of the United States of Europe here, I thank you all. Since we are all on the same side, shall we pass along the information that each of us seeks?"
****
A few days later, the five of them met again in the cafeteria after class.
"Some items have disappeared from the classroom," Josyntjie told them in a low voice. "A stapler and a calculator among them. Our teacher believes a student took them."
Václav frowned. "She has said nothing about it."
"Eva and I heard her talking to another teacher."
"Why steal?" Mathew asked. "The calculator cannot be copied. The stapler, perhaps. Still . . ."
"Just to have one?" Casimir suggested. "Perhaps to send home as proof?"
"Who do you think it was?" Mathew asked.
They brainstormed for a few minutes.
"It could be—" Casimir suddenly broke off as he caught sight of other students from their class approaching a nearby table.
"It sounds like a fascinating story." Josyntjie had seen them, too, and gestured toward Mathew Woodruff's copy of The Two Towers on the table in front of him. "But why this book? They have many others."
"The teacher thought it would be 'fun,' " Mathew answered. "I do not know why. But the up-timers also believe this book. Oh, not the tale itself. They know better than we that it is just a story. But they believe this is how they ought to act."
Václav nodded in agreement. "Have you all heard what Prime Minister Stearns said when all the townspeople gathered here at the high school a few days after the Ring of Fire?"
"Yes," Mathew answered.
As the conversation veered off into politics, Casimir reached for his pen and inkwell. He wrote "The Lord of the Rings contains up-time ideals." Then he remembered what Woodruff had shared with him when they had first talked and added "Signal fires."
The next morning, Casimir sent an expensive telegram to his employer.
****
January, 1634
Grantville
"The up-timers have some strange notions about Christmas," Josyntjie Boekhorst said at their first gathering in the cafeteria after classes resumed in January.
"They certainly do," Mathew Woodruff agreed.
"Are you two agreeing again?" Eva made it sound like an innocent question.
"Certainly not." Woodruff adopted a virtuous tone in reply.
"Good," Casimir Wesner stated. "We cannot have that. The five of us represent different governments and religions."
"Separate lords spiritual and temporal," Václav agreed. "Except that Frau Želivský and I do have the same lord temporal."
"What does that make us?" Josyntjie wondered aloud.
"Researchers," Václav stated. "Researchers whose interests sometimes intersect."
"Spies." Woodruff stated it bluntly. "For some reason the up-timers do not mind, but we are spies nonetheless."
"I write down exactly what I want to look up. So do the rest of you," Eva reminded them. "If the New United States—the State of Thuringia, rather—wants to know what we are doing, they can read the list. If we are spies, we are very poor ones."
"Explorers, perhaps," Josyntjie offered. "Explorers of the up-time."
"I have heard of something called a detective," Casimir told them. "The up-timers must like them because they have both books and movies about them."
"Is that an honorable occupation?" Eva asked.
"I am unsure. Perhaps we should watch a movie."
Casimir found a copy of the Grantville Times and turned to the television schedule. After the researchers went their separate ways, he stopped at the television studio before leaving the high school.
"No, none of these are about detectives," he was told. "But we also show movies here at the high school, and there is a request list." She pulled out a binder and flipped handwritten pages. "There are a couple requests here for a detective movie called The Big Sleep. If you want to add a request, that would make three. It could be enough to get it played sometime in the next couple months."
"It is more likely to be shown if there are more requests?" Casimir asked.
"Of course."
Over the next couple days, The Big Sleep received five more requests.
****
A Friday night in January, 1634
Calvert High School
At Mathew's suggestion, they arrived separately for the movie and did not all sit together.
"After all, we may be detectives," he pointed out. "So, we ought to follow the practices we looked up in the library."
Casimir found an empty seat. A few minutes later, two men sat down to his left.
"Guten Abend," he said.
"Guten Abend," the man next to him returned. His speech and dress made him a down-timer, but he offered to shake hands. Clearly, he has been in Grantville long enough to be comfortable, Casimir realized.
"Evenin'," the other man offered. It was equally obvious that he was an up-timer. He did not, however, offer to shake hands, which Casimir found odd. He addressed the man next to Casimir. "You're going to like this one, Neustatter. The screenwriter was Leigh Brackett, the same woman who wrote Rio Bravo, El Dorado, and Rio Lobo. She was called the Queen of Space Opera before she started writing scripts. A lot of people don't know this, but she did the first draft of The Empire Strikes Back, too."
"This sounds promising."
"All the same, I'm surprised The Big Sleep got enough votes to be shown this month. I was starting to think I was going to have to suggest it to the dinner-and-a-movie group."
That intrigued Casimir. "Excuse me, did you also request this movie?"
"Sure did," the up-timer stated. "You requested it, too?"
Casimir sensed he was being reevaluated. "Yes. I was told it is a detective movie. I wish to learn about detectives."
The up-timer laughed. "Well, you're in luck then. You're sittin' next to one."
The down-timer introduced himself. "Edgar Neustatter. My men and I retired from the wars. Now we are security consultants."
Casimir understood. Former mercenaries.
The up-timer laughed again. " 'Security consultant' just means that Neustatter's figured out how to be a cowboy and a detective at the same time."
"A 'cowboy'?" Casimir ventured.
"One genre at a time, okay?"
The movie began, and Casimir watched it intently. By the time the movie was over, he was a little shaken. He'd lost track of at least two double-crosses, and those were just the ones he knew he didn't understand.
"So that is a detective," he ventured.
"That is one style of detective," Neustatter said. "The up-time movies are full of action. Sometimes a detective's work is long hours of asking questions and standing around that all comes to nothing."
"Hm."
"Dank, Eric," Neustatter continued. "I do enjoy Leigh Brackett's work. I saw some things I will adopt and others that I will avoid."
"Yeah, well, do yourself a favor and never take a divorce case."
Neustatter handed Casimir his card. "If you should ever need a security consultant . . . My men and I do a lot of guard duty and escorting shipments. We do take detective cases, but as Eric says, no divorces. And if what you want is written information, you are better off hiring a library researcher."
"I am a library researcher," Casimir managed.
"Then you should give me your card."
"I, ah, do not have cards yet."
"Have some made up," Neustatter told him. "Many people need library researchers. I even hire one from time to time. I will look for you next time I need one, Herr . . ."
"Casimir Wesner. Danke."
****
The five researchers met up in the cafeteria as prearranged. All of them seemed a bit shaken.
"I am not sure I want to be a detective," Eva stated.
"I am quite sure I do not," Václav declared.
"Not all detectives are the same." Casimir held out the business card he'd been given. "I met one. He guards things, but I do not think he would mind being like the detective in the movie. We, however, can be different."
"Different lords spiritual and temporal and different detectives?" Václav asked.
"We could call ourselves researchers spiritual and temporal," Josyntjie suggested. "We have our own goals. Why should we not have our own methods?"
****
Early February, 1634
Casimir surreptitiously capped his inkwell and eased his textbook and papers into his pack. As soon as the bell rang to end English class, he was out of his seat and moving toward the classroom door.
Josyntjie was on her feet and moving just as quickly. She'd simply abandoned her class materials—Eva would gather them up. Mathew was close behind her. Václav would be retrieving his books.
Casimir wove through the evening students, passed through the front doors of the high school, and strode downhill toward Route 250 and the tram stop like he had somewhere to be.
"No awareness," Mathew muttered. Casimir wasn't even looking around, so he saw no reason not to catch up to Josyntjie.
Casimir certainly had the timing down. He was almost to the tram stop when Mathew saw the tram approaching.
"Come on!" Josyntjie urged. She and Mathew ran to the stop and just made it onto the tram via the back door. "Do you think he saw us?" she asked.
"No," Mathew answered. "He should have, though."
Casimir stayed on the tram longer than they expected. When he did disembark at a stop, he hurried off and turned down a side street. Mathew and Josyntjie followed him through a residential neighborhood to a large two-story house with a significant addition. There was a sign out front. What did that say?
"Mathew!" Josyntjie gasped.
Suddenly a man on the sidewalk was coming right toward them as Casimir hurried inside.
Mathew automatically drew himself up. But as he gauged the man—about his own height (tall for a down-timer), wide shoulders, long coat, gunbelt, and a style of hat he'd seen a couple up-timers wear—he decided to be polite.
At ten paces away, the man asked, "Why are the two of you following my client?"
"Uh . . . uh . . ." Mathew couldn't think of anything to say.
"Why do you think we are following him?" Josyntjie asked.
" 'Cause you kept the same distance behind him all the way down the street. Not a whole lot of situational awareness, though." He pointed behind them.
Mathew might have fallen into the same carelessness he'd accused Wesner of, but no way was he going to fall for that. "You look," he muttered to Josyntjie.
She did. "There is another man behind us, dressed just like him, coming this way."
"So why are you following Herr Riedel?"
"Who?" Mathew blurted out.
"Oh, so you know his name isn't Riedel . . ."
Mathew realized he'd just been outsmarted. "What do you want with him?" he countered.
"When he comes back outside, he can share as much or as little of his business with you as he pleases."
Mathew tried again. "And who are you?"
"Edgar Neustatter. I run Neustatter's European Security Services."
Mathew fidgeted until Casimir exited the house.
****
"Mathew! Frau Boekhorst!" Casimir exclaimed. "What are you doing here?"
"Following you," Neustatter stated.
"Why?" Casimir asked.
"You have been leaving school quickly every evening, and you are obviously up to something."
Casimir glanced around. He was silent for a few moments while he decided how much to say. "You know I was sent to Grantville by Saxe-Altenburg," he began, "to look for banking and investment opportunities. But the bank can pay only part of my salary. My supervisor pays the rest. He asked me to arrange lodging for an army officer and his wife."
"Saxon?"
"USE Army."
"Could we not have helped you with this?" Mathew asked.
Casimir's gesture encompassed the three of them. "Do you know where to seek safe and reputable lodgings for adel?"
Both Woodruff and Boekhorst shook their heads no, more than a bit grudgingly.
"My thoughts were the Higgins Hotel or somewhere in Castle Hills," Wesner continued, "but Neustatter pointed out that lodging within Grantville itself is more convenient and safer because they will not have to cross open country every day."
"If safety is a concern, they ought to have bodyguards," Neustatter stated. "However, . . . May I discuss the details?"
"Yes, of course."
Neustatter studied Woodruff and Boekhorst for several seconds. "Very well," the security consultant said. "If my men and I guarded an army officer, people would wonder why. It would attract more attention to him. I assume a USE officer can handle himself?"
"Ja," Casimir answered.
"Then you and Mathew ought to be enough. Perhaps Frau Boekhorst can accompany his wife."
"We are not bodyguards," Mathew stated. "Or detectives."
Neustatter shrugged. "As I told Herr Wesner, I have a contract that will take both my teams out of town that week."
"Danke. Is there anything else I should do?"
Neustatter started to shake his head, but then grinned. "Ja. Take them to the movies."
****
Casimir knew the others were upset with him, but he couldn't do anything about it until their class finished its research in the library. Eva and Josyntjie tried to slip out immediately after class.
"You are angry with me. I can feel it," Casimir stated. "Will you join me in the cafeteria?"
Eva gave him a dark look, but Josyntjie agreed. "Okay."
Casimir turned. "And you, Mathew? Václav?"
Mathew nodded grudgingly. Václav's face held little expression at all.
Once they were all seated and eating, Casimir said, "My employer asked me to find lodgings for an army officer and his new wife who will be visiting Grantville. I did not know an appropriate lodging for adel, so I hired the former mercenary Neustatter."
"We could have found that information," Mathew told him.
"Ja. But this gave me an opportunity to form an opinion of Neustatter's work. And I did have questions about safety. Could you have answered those?"
The other four exchanged glances. "No," Václav eventually admitted.
Casimir took what he hoped was an unobtrusive breath. "Neustatter did tell me that he and his men would be out of town when they come to Grantville, and that even if he were not, having him guard an army officer would attract too much attention. He felt that I should ask you to help."
"See, you should have come to us in the first place," Mathew told him.
Casimir sighed to himself. "Do any of us know whether someone needs bodyguards? Or where adel ought to stay? However, Neustatter did say I ought to ask you, Mathew and Václav, to accompany the officer, and you frauin to accompany his wife."
"Whatever title she has, I am not sure she would want someone like me to accompany her," Eva stated.
Casimir shrugged. "All I can do is ask. Now that I know what to ask for, I do ask for your help."
Josyntjie nodded first.
Casimir exhaled in relief.
****
Wednesday, March 1, 1634
Grantville
Casimir had spent the day at the train station. Not at Schwarza Junction, but at the smaller Grantville station where a local carried passengers from the main hub into Grantville itself. He spent most of the day sitting on a bench, reading for the classes he was missing, and looking up every time a train arrived. He was beginning to wonder if this army officer was actually going to show up. If not, surely either he or Casimir's employer would have sent a message?
Casimir heard another local and glanced at the station clock. 4:19 PM. The train coasted to a stop in a squeal of brakes. Casimir noted the engine number. It wasn't another local; it was the same local again. Passengers began disembarking, and he caught sight of a gray uniform. He hurried out the station door. The USE soldier was helping a woman down from the train. She was young, no older than the high school students. She wore a white dress and a matching cloak.
Casimir approached. "Guten Tag. I am Casimir Wesner. I work for Georg Rudolph von Hessler."
The man visibly relaxed. Only then did Casimir realize that he had been reaching for his pistol.
"I am Hans Friedrich von Hessler," he said. "My wife, Christina von Burkersroda. So, my brother Georg sent you?"
"I had no idea you were his brother," Casimir confessed.
"Ja, there is a reason for that," von Hessler muttered. "But who are you, Casimir Wesner?"
"I work for the bank in Altenburg. Your brother sent me to Grantville last November. I have arranged for you to stay at an inn. And for people to accompany each of you."
"What sort of people?" von Hessler asked.
"Researchers," Casimir answered.
"And what is a researcher?" Frau von Burkersroda asked.
"People like me, who look up information in the library."
"Nerds," von Hessler supplied. He smiled. "Ja, I have been to Grantville before."
"Wunderbar," Casimir muttered.
"But only briefly, when I could get part of a day away from Camp Saale. Christina and I would like you to show us the town. But first, I must send a telegram."
At the telegraph office, von Hessler thought for a few minutes and then wrote out a telegram. He had to ask Casimir to help him with the form a couple times.
BEGIN: GVL TO NMBG ST
TO: OBERST VON HESSLER
ADDR: BALGSTADT
FROM: SOLDAT 26
DATE: 1 MAR 1634
MESSAGE: VERY PLEASED WITH YOUR ASSISTANCE LAST FALL STOP WELCOME FUTURE TRAINING EXERCISE
END
"You did not see this," von Hessler told Casimir.
Casimir nodded. "I did not see it, and I do not understand it."
****
Friday, March 3, 1634
After a day and a half of exploring Grantville, the von Hesslers wanted to see the high school. The ladies hurried up the hill toward the front door. Casimir was grateful that Frau von Burkersroda didn't seem to mind that her companions were Dutch and Bohemian commoners. And Frau Boekhorst and Frau Želivský seemed to like the younger woman.
But Major von Hessler took his time in the parking lot.
"The Croats were here, and the Captain-General attacked up-slope?" he asked.
"I am told that is what happened," Casimir answered. "All of us are recent arrivals, last autumn. But I am sure we can find teachers who fought in the battle."
Von Hessler's eyes widened. "Teachers?"
"Let us find Herr Thomas. His classroom is upstairs."
****
Herr Thomas nudged a couple desks back into a straight line, loosened his tie, and pulled open the bottom drawer of his desk. He strapped on the gunbelt, collected his briefcase, and realized people were watching him.
"Guten Tag."
"Herr Thomas," Casimir began, "this is Major Hans Friedrich von Hessler. Herr Major, Herr Dwight Thomas, one of the social studies teachers."
They shook hands.
"He has questions about the battle."
Herr Thomas nodded. He took his coat off and rolled the left sleeve of his dress shirt. "That's where I got hit. We were at the top of the stairs. Ed got hit right after I did."
" 'Ed'?" von Hessler asked.
"Short for Edward. Piazza. The President."
"Show me where, bitte."
"Sure, why not? We have to go down those stairs anyway." Herr Thomas led the way to the stairs. "We'd made a barricade of file cabinets—those metal boxes in the classrooms. Right here. The Croats made it about halfway up. Kinda lost track of what happened after I got hit. But I know Bradley Laforrest took my pistol, and somebody took Ed's. Oliver—Edgerton, that is—was blazing away the whole time."
Casimir had heard about the Croat attack, of course—everyone who took classes at Calvert High heard about it sooner or later. And he'd been impressed. But watching Major von Hessler, he realized that the USE Army officer was more than just impressed.
"Were any of you soldiers?" von Hessler asked.
"Ed was, thirty years ago. And Oliver's been a Civil War reenactor as long as I can remember."
"The 1860s," von Hessler said.
"You know about it?"
"Herr Frederick Miller has attached himself to my regiment. He and my major domo get along. I learn American history whether I want to or not."
Dwight Thomas laughed. "I see you do know the man. Mr. Miller was my high school history teacher. Say, I have to run, but if you're interested in World War II, there's a movie in the auditorium tonight—The Battle of the Bulge."
"Danke."
"Good to meet you."
Casimir rolled his eyes. The movies again. Then again, Neustatter had recommended it.
They found the ladies discussing how each of their home regions had to have a teacher from the Grantville program. Them and a hundred other places, Casimir thought. And then he had to struggle to keep from laughing when von Hessler said, "Ja, mein Schatz." Yes, Dear.
"And water purification," Frau Boekhorst added as they made their way to the auditorium.
Casimir noted that Major von Hessler and Frau von Burkersroda were holding hands. Apparently, that part of up-time movie-watching transcended cultures, too. That was before the movie proved fascinating, disturbing, and really, really long.
Afterwards, von Hessler just sat there, stunned, as the closing music died away. "We cannot let this happen," he finally said. "What did they let themselves become?"
After a couple minutes, he stated, "Christina, you are right. We need a teacher. A Latin school, in Saxony west of the Saale. Wesner, can you find us a teacher?"
"I can try."
"Then find out if this man Hessler was—will be—related to us," Hans Friedrich directed.
"That . . . could be difficult. Not everyone is in the up-time encyclopedias."
"I will speak with Pastor Schieferdecker," Christina declared. "And the pastor in Kleinjena—Laurentius. They must teach against the Nazis, too."
"And books," Hans Friedrich added. "Books about World War II. They will need to be translated into German. Not Latin. I want everyone to be able to read them. I will write to Hans Heinrich and explain why this is all necessary."
"Ja, Euer Hochwohlgeboren."
"Excuse me," Frau Želivský spoke up. "It sounds as though you are going to order your people to think for themselves."
Hans Friedrich and Christina exchanged glances.
"Well, yes," he admitted ruefully.
****
Tuesday, March 9, 1634
The five researchers gathered in the high school cafeteria. They'd missed some classes while showing von Hessler and von Burkersroda around Grantville. The two of them had left for Magdeburg yesterday.
"Time to get back to work," Václav declared.
"Yes," Mathew Woodruff agreed. "Accompanying an officer was a strange experience. Providentially, I have found a more traditional job."
Casimir raised an eyebrow. That was what—Woodruff's third job so far?
"Indeed," Josyntjie declared. "I felt like a lady-in-waiting."
Eva seemed oblivious to the conversation.
"Frau Želivský?" Casimir asked.
She started. "What?"
"What were you thinking about?"
"The movie," Eva answered. "I would like a tank."
The other four researchers just stared at her. Casimir saw that Mathew and Josyntjie looked as confused as he felt—but Václav looked terrified.
"Why?" Josyntjie managed.
"My grandfather's grandmother's grandfather's father was a Zeilmeister in the Hussite Wars." Seeing their confusion, she elaborated, "A line master who commanded fifty to a hundred wagons. Hussites used to fight from vozová hradba, war wagons. Chain them together to make a tabor, a fort, on the battlefield. Some of them even had cannons."
"Your ancestor made APCs?" Woodruff demanded.
"He commanded a line of them. I do not know if he built them himself."
The other four researchers all stared at Eva again. "That is so . . . cool, as the up-timers say," Casimir finally managed.
Eva looked off into the distance. "Last summer, when Wallenstein threw the Austrians out, there were Jews from Grantville who brought a katyusha. And then later one of the up-time APCs arrived. We have freedom of religion and war wagons again."
Mathew Woodruff looked from Frau Želivský to Frau Boekhorst. "And do you want a tank, too?"
"Ja, but the other kind." She smiled at his confused expression. "A tank of water. One can purify it to drink, boil it to steam, make it work for you. We Dutch have worked with and against the water for years. But the up-time science . . . there are more things we can do with it now."
A few days later, Frau Želivský told the others she had found a job.
****
Friday, March 17, 1634
Brother Václav wished there were a Premonstratensian abbey in Grantville. The Order of Canons Regular of Prémontré worked in parishes. Today it had been their turn to conduct the service at St. Mary's. And they were allowed to follow their own rite.
But the Premonstratensians were contemplative, and Grantville was so . . . loud. Václav was doing necessary work. He was just used to life being a little more sedate. That was probably why he liked his fellow researchers. The four of them were quiet and studious, much like canons regular—although Václav took care not to point that out to his Protestant colleagues.
"Brother Václav?" Father Athanasius Kircher's voice cut into his introspection.
"Father?"
"Brother Václav, I have been meaning to ask you something. Four different parishioners—or was it five?—have breathlessly reported to me that they saw you with an army officer and were quite afraid you were about to become a military chaplain." Father Kircher's tone make it clear he didn't think so—which simply meant he had a different reason for asking. He was, after all, Athanasius Kircher.
"No, Father. My order has assigned me to Grantville both to assist you and to assist the order's beer-making efforts."
"You are, in effect, the Premonstratensians' economic liaison," Kircher summarized.
"I had not thought of it quite like that. But yes. Were the order to assign me to a chaplaincy, it would most likely be with King Albrecht's forces."
"But it is more likely you will continue to produce beer."
"I am continuing Brother Ondřej's research," Václav clarified. "And what the up-timers call 'marketing.' "
"So, you do not work with spirits and other liquids?" Father Kircher sounded disappointed. "I have need of someone who understands pipes and pumps."
"I am sorry, Father, but I do not." Then Václav thought of his agreement with his classmates. "But I know who does."
"Please, send him to me."
"She is a Dutch Arminian."
Athanasius Kircher didn't even blink. "Then send her to me, bitte."
****
Friday, April 21, 1634
Casimir Wesner was trying to concentrate on his newspaper. Something had happened in Saxony west of the Saale, but this article wasn't much help. A battle along the Unstrut River two days ago—and it wasn't clear who'd won. Casimir shook his head. How could the newspaper not know that?
The others' conversation distracted him.
"Clean water I understand," Frau Boekhorst was saying, "and I understand several kinds of pumps. But these tiny little gates using absolutely pure water? It is amazing! And it carries information!"
"Fresh water." It sounded as though Woodruff wasn't following her, either, and had seized on the one item that interested him. "Do you know how to purify water for a town?"
Frau Boekhorst shook her head, as if to clear it. "How big is the town?"
"Let us say several hundred persons."
"Multiple wells," she told him. "Well-spaced. Test the water regularly. Latrines need to be dug somewhere where they won't run into the aquifer. I am positive there is a cheat sheet on this already."
"Excuse me? Herr Wesner?"
Now what? He looked to see a telegram boy at his elbow.
"Ja, Ich bin Wesner." It wasn't really the best way to say it in German, but by now Casimir knew that the Amideutsch phrasing came from a dramatic statement by an up-time president.
"Bitte hier unterschreiben."
Casimir signed there, opened the telegram, and read it. Then he read it again.
He broke into the conversation about water. "Are any of you looking for paid research work?"
"Why?" Brother Václav asked.
"Because my employer's family is investing, and I have a list of questions to answer. With a promise of more to come." Casimir put a list on the table and stood up. "Here is what they need so far."
"Where are you going?" Woodruff asked.
"To hire Neustatter to find out about someone."
****
Ditmar Schaub sat in one of the chairs arrayed in a semi-circle around the Franklin stove in the office of Neustatter's European Security Services and looked at Casimir Wesner in bemusement.
"You want us to do a background check on a village farmer and his wife?"
"Ja."
"Why? Everyone in a village already knows each other. Probably still have grudges left over from childhood antics."
"They have already convinced the gemeinde to grow up-time crops. The background check is for the adel who are investing in the project."
"Surely the lehen holder can give the adel a character reference."
"They want a character reference from Grantville," Casimir told him.
"Okay. What are their names?"
"Heinrich Kraft and Helene Olbrichtin. They claim to have trained under a master gardener."
"That should be easy enough to verify," Ditmar told him.
After Casimir left, Ditmar looked over to where his cousin Astrid Schäubin sat behind the desk.
"You heard?" At her nod, he asked, "Who are the master gardeners?"
"I will find out."
****
Monday, April 24, 1634
By Monday, the telegram company was no longer delivering each message to Casimir. He simply stopped by once a day to collect as many telegrams as had accumulated. He congratulated himself on hiring his classmates for much of the research. Over the weekend, the many questions (and answers) about companies, partnerships, and stocks had resolved into a single proposal: the von Hessler family was leading an effort to buy the lehen of the villages of Kleinjena and Rossbach. They did not have enough money, so were organizing a corporation and offering stock. Casimir was directed to see what it would take to get the corporation listed on the Grantville Stock Exchange. That he could do.
Casimir understood the stock market fairly well; he'd been following the Duke of Saxe-Altenburg's investments even before being sent to Grantville. Since arriving, he had bought and sold stock for Saxe-Altenburg. That was straightforward by now, but valuing a stock for an initial public offering turned out to be significantly more complicated. If he had all the details correct—telegrams made it hard to tell for sure, but a courier would deliver formal documents soon—several families of the neideradel had pooled their readily-available funds and could afford about two-thirds of the lehen. The other third would be sold on the exchange. The villagers would keep their share of the crop (or its sale price), seed would be set aside for the following year, and the rent due to the lehen holder would be paid to the corporation, which would distribute it to the shareholders. A certain amount of profit would be set aside against bad years, and the rest divided between shareholders and villagers, with the villagers having the right to buy stock themselves. That much looked solid to Casimir.
The side business of selling food at train stations seemed like wishful thinking to Casimir, but the expenses were low, and each step of an expansion plan was controlled by whether the previous step was profitable. He didn't think they'd make much money, but they weren't going to lose any, either. Another provision allowed for other side businesses along similar lines. What made him nervous was that those businesses didn't have to be food-based. Plus, there seemed to be an assumption of no taxes of goods sold at the first location. But the second and subsequent locations specifically factored in taxes. Was it a curious oversight? Oh! No, it wasn't. A tax-free zone? Casimir scribbled down a couple questions for his next telegram.
****
Tuesday, April 25, 1634
By the next afternoon, Ditmar had an appointment with a Staci Ann Beckworth.
"Heinz and Helene?" she asked. "Sweet kids and good gardeners. Heinz worked at the Freedom Arches during the winter."
"They are of good moral character?" Ditmar knew that was important to a village gemeinde, and he figured it would matter to adel, too.
Staci Ann laughed. "They're just what you'd expect in down-time German farmers. Serious, hard-working. I think the most exciting thing they ever did was sneak off to the swimming hole together—after they got married. What's this all about, anyway?"
"They are apparently involved in a new venture to grow up-time plants, and the adel want to know if they can trust them before they invest."
"Absolutely. Those adel can write to Arnold. He's head of the Grantville Grange, you know."
****
Friday, April 28, 1634
"Thank you! Thank you!" Casimir was overwhelmed by the information his classmates provided.
Josyntjie Boekhorst had written up everything she'd learned about clean drinking water and irrigation practices. Eva Želivský added the very practical suggestion that if the new village-corporation wanted to increase agricultural production, it needed a tractor—specifically one of the new steam tractors from Magdeburg. Václav had some definite ideas about beer production, and he'd ordered samples of the local beer and hops, with the possibility of a larger order to follow. Mathew Woodruff had asked about farming practices, but upon hearing there were likely to be political changes, too, he'd contributed everything he'd found in Grantville so far. In short, the researchers spiritual and temporal were on a mission. Casimir didn't even try to fit it all into a telegram. He filled most of a mail pouch for the next train to Naumburg Station.
****
Thursday, May 4, 1634
The five of them met up in the high school cafeteria.
"The IPO will be in a couple weeks," Casimir began. "You'll all have the opportunity to buy additional shares." He opened a folder and passed out a stack of certificates and letters of credit.
"What is this?" Václav asked.
"Letters of credit at the usual researcher rates," Casimir answered. "And a bonus in stock because all of you made suggestions that have been adopted."
Josyntjie frowned and thumbed through her stack. "Stock?"
"You now each own a few shares in Heinz Kraft and Gemeinde, a joint stock corporation holding the lehen of the villages Kleinjena and Rossbach."
"A joint stock corporation?" Woodruff asked. "Like the Virginia Company and the Massachusetts Bay Company?"
"Similar but with two key differences. HKG will trade on the Grantville Stock Exchange, so some of the owners will change over time. The villagers themselves will own some of the stock—and the gemeiden will determine what crops they plant."
"They will grow food," Woodruff predicted. "They will avoid the mistakes of the North American colonies."
Casimir cocked his head. "I had not thought about it that way, but yes, I think they will. I had not realized you knew so much about the North American colonies."
Woodruff just smiled.
****
Monday, May 15, 1634
Casimir Wesner and his classmates waited for the Grantville Stock Exchange to open. Established stocks were listed on the chalk boards, along with yesterday's closing prices.
"Today we have an initial public offering for Heinz Kraft and Gemeinde," the chairman of the exchange announced. He went on to give details of the company.
Casimir observed carefully. He saw some interest in the crowd. He had recommended that they low-ball the purchase price so that it would rise the first day.
The first few transactions were at the asking price, but then it began to creep up a little. By the close, HKG was up fifty cents a share.
"Sehr gut," Casimir pronounced.
****
Tuesday, May 16, 1634
HKG picked up another quarter a share right at opening on Tuesday. Then it stalled. No one was buying. The first sell order came in twenty minutes before the end of the session, and the stock tumbled seventy-five cents in the closing minutes.
"Something is wrong." Casimir stated the obvious. "I am closely associated with the stock. But would the rest of you ask questions?"
His classmates dispersed.
****
Wednesday, May 17, 1634
The researchers assembled in the high school cafeteria in time for breakfast.
Brother Václav spoke first. "I heard from two people that HKG was overvalued, that the village is unlikely to be able to grow up-time plants."
"The village grew them last year," Mathew pointed out between bites of sausage. "Surely they can grow them again this year."
"But I heard the same thing," Josyntjie reported. "Plus, someone else heard that the village does not have enough seed."
"And I heard that the people in charge are not as good farmers as they think they are," Eva added.
"Danke," Casimir told them. He tried to tamp down the rising anger he felt. "That is a lot of rumors. And they are all false. I happen to know the village just received additional seed."
"It is too many rumors," Václav stated. "Certainly, a rumor can spread. But all of these in such short order?"
"What are you saying?"
"Rumors do not spread themselves. They had help."
"The man I spoke with heard it from an Italian," Josyntjie said.
"So did one of the men I talked to," Václav added. "From the description, I think I know the man."
"You mean Giovanni." Casimir spoke quietly. "Why would he do this?"
****
Casimir stood near the door and watched in frustration as HKG lost a dollar and a quarter per share during Wednesday's trading session. He could do nothing—except pass descriptions to his classmates outside.
"A tall down-timer, a man of means, blue cloak."
"I will speak with him," Václav stated.
"A short, heavy-set man, also a down-timer, dressed in brown."
"Eva and I will take him," Josyntjie said.
"And an up-timer, blond, work shirt and jeans."
"He's mine." Mathew Woodruff strode off after the man.
Casimir went back inside and located Martin Hahn, a broker he respected.
"Martin, what is wrong with my stock?" he asked.
"Nothing I can point to," Martin told him. "Just . . . a lack of confidence."
"But why?"
Martin slowly gathered his papers together. "Sometimes there is no reason. Other times . . ."
"I have heard someone is talking down the stock."
"It is possible. It may be nothing."
"It does not feel like nothing. HKG could lose a lot of money," Casimir pointed out.
"You are right. It feels wrong. But, Casimir—if something is wrong, you must have proof."
"I understand."
Casimir made his way toward Calvert High School, feeling very frustrated. He did not want to telegraph the nobles who were investing in HKG and tell them that the IPO was failing.
Frau Želivský and Frau Boekhorst returned first.
"Herr Toper was offered shares of HKG outside of the Exchange." Josyntjie's voice was grim. "Any amount he wanted."
"I think it is one of the initial partners who bought in before the IPO," Eva said.
Casimir thought that over. "No one has bought enough to offer an unlimited amount. Even the nobles in Saxon County do not own enough to make that offer—" Casimir broke off. "Someone is shorting the stock!"
Then he slowly smiled. "And it means the person will have to buy the shares that he has already sold. Danke. I think we can beat this man at his own game."
Mathew returned. "I am sorry. I found nothing and wasted my time helping one of the buyers look for a missing fountain pen."
"Oh, you found something," Eva told him. "A missing fountain pen?"
"I did not find the pen."
"I would not expect you to. Nobody ever found the missing items from the classroom, either."
"Oh!" Mathew understood. "We should . . ."
"We should talk in the classroom tonight about how HKG is in trouble and how we hope nobody panics and dumps their shares at a low price," Casimir told them. "Yes, I have a plan. Excuse me, bitte. I have some people to contact."
****
Thursday, May 18, 1634
Casimir watched HKG lose another dollar a share on Thursday.
"Can you not do anything about it?" Mathew asked. "Should we sell, too?"
"I need another day," Casimir told him. "Today's drop will work to our advantage."
All four of his classmates gave him dubious looks.
"The same amount of money will buy more stock tomorrow than it would have today," Casimir pointed out. "I know we each personally took a loss today, but I believe tomorrow will make up for it."
"If you're sure," Eva told him.
It was a measure of how much the researchers spiritual and temporal had come to trust each other. But this had better work, Casimir thought grimly.
****
Friday, May 19, 1634
When the bell opened the market on Friday, Casimir was already waving his hand. He snapped up a hundred shares of HKG at the same price it had closed at on Thursday. Another hundred was offered, and he pounced on that, too. But he regretfully shook his head when the third hundred was listed. Someone picked it up for fifty cents less. A fourth hundred shares appeared.
Someone thinks I tried to prop up the price and failed, Casimir thought.
Another stockbroker who handled Saxe-Altenburg accounts bought the shares.
A fifth batch. This is ridiculous. Eva was right. One of the nobles must be dumping shares to hurt the company.
Someone else got those.
When more shares appeared, the other Saxe-Altenburg broker offered an increase of twenty-five cents a share.
Then Arnold Pflaum walked in and asked for two hundred shares at a quarter over Thursday's close. That caused a stir, catching the attention of even those who normally dealt in the big stocks like the Higgins Sewing Machine Company or the Nail Works.
Andy Yost put in a request for a hundred shares, matching Pflaum's price. Nothing appeared for several minutes, so he offered a quarter more and got the shares.
The market sensed a trend. Martin Hahn vacuumed up a hundred shares. He went for the next hundred, too, but the seller asked for another fifty cents a share. An OPM broker struck first.
Another two hundred shares were offered. Casimir watched incredulously as a broker he'd never paid much attention to outbid OPM. And then the same broker who had sold shares on Wednesday outbid them both.
Interesting. Is this what I think it is? he asked himself. I have a thousand dollars left from von Hessler to find out. . . .
Casimir jumped at a fifty-share lot. Someone selling half his holdings to lock in some profits, he supposed. It cost him almost half the money he had left.
Another fifty shares came up. Casimir eyed Martin Hahn. Hahn was interested, but he wasn't one to get carried away. HKG was already two dollars over its opening.
But the broker who had sold on Wednesday didn't hesitate, and now HKG was back to its IPO price.
Just how much do you need? Casimir wondered. He unloaded a hundred of the shares he'd bought at the beginning of the session. He smiled at the price he got. The von Hesslers had scraped together enough money to back his hunch, and he was sure they'd appreciate the twenty percent return.
When the closing bell rang, HKG was up two dollars and seventy-five cents on the day.
Casimir rejoined his classmates.
"That was exciting," Josyntjie said. "But what just happened?"
Casimir signaled a waitress. "This may take a few minutes to explain, but I can afford to buy—coffee or hot chocolate, too, not just broth." After they had their drinks, he said, "Someone was shorting the stock. That means selling shares with the hope that they can buy those shares at a lower cost by the time they need to make delivery."
Brother Václav looked cross-eyed. "You can sell something you do not yet have?"
"No, not on the Grantville Exchange. It was done up-time, but Jack Whitney banned it here when he set up the stock exchange. From what you have all told me, I believe someone privately sold stock and then spread rumors to drive down the price. His plan was to buy the now less-expensive stock and deliver that to his buyers, hurting HKG while making a profit himself."
"But the stock went up a lot today," Eva pointed out.
"Some of that run was probably because he'd told his broker that he had to have the stock no matter what. So hopefully we made him pay more for it than he will receive from the short sales."
"He will, ah, hate your guts," Josyntjie predicted.
"Unless I miss my guess," Casimir said, "he already does."
"How did you convince the others to buy?" Mathew asked.
"Heinz Kraft telegraphed Arnold Pflaum and Andy Yost. All I did was tell Saxe-Altenburg's other broker that HKG was trading too low, and he might want to buy before it recovered. Martin Hahn is clever enough to take advantage of a trend, and OPM . . . I did not see that coming," Casimir confessed.
"I learned much today," Mathew told him. "Thank you."
Casimir looked at him curiously. "A few days ago, you mentioned the Virginia and Plymouth Companies. Are you planning on buying some stock yourself?"
Woodruff appeared to be considering his words carefully. "In the up-time, the North American colonies were about to grow by some thousands of Puritans. When the Puritans found out King Charles had sold the colonies in North America and betrayed the Dutch, they cast around for a man they could send to Grantville immediately. I am to look for alternate sites for a Puritan colony. Perhaps here, perhaps somewhere described in Grantville's books."
"You are to find a site and design the colony?" Wesner demanded. "That is why you came to Grantville?"
"It is," Mathew affirmed.
"Oh! That is why you change jobs so often. You learn the basics and move on."
Woodruff nodded.
"Water. Steam power and tractors. Financing. Beer." Brother Václav ticked off each item on his fingers.
"And up-time political ideas," Josyntjie added.
"But I have not found a location," Mathew told them.
"Where have you considered?" Casimir asked.
"New England, further inland in North America, South Africa, Australia, the Bahama Islands, and here in Thuringia." Mathew sighed. "Each has significant disadvantages. But I was missing one other factor, and you may have found it. These villagers determine the crops. That is, the people who actually know how to grow them."
"Ja."
"The adel and the other investors cannot order them to grow something else? Or to dig for gold?"
"Nein. They can try to persuade them, but if the gemeinde sticks to its guns—"
"The adel will use guns," Eva predicted.
"That is . . . unlikely," Casimir stated. "Since the Saale Levies hold the guns, and they are the villagers."
"Oh." Eva Želivský sat up very straight. "The workers have guns to the management's heads, too. I see how this could be useful."
"What are you thinking?" Josyntjie asked.
"After we watched that movie, I said I wanted a tank. Several companies are trying to build them. Some are already bankrupt, and more will probably fail. I got a job at one that may succeed. But if I may use your ideas, Herr Wesner . . . multiple companies, workers and management, could reach an agreement to each build the parts they are good at. Each could cause the others to fail, but would go bankrupt with them. But by combining our resources, we might actually succeed in building tanks, and the Hussites will have iron wagenburg this time."
"I sense another IPO coming," Casimir predicted.
"And when I find a place for the colony, yet another," Mathew stated.
****
Mathew Woodruff is an ancestor of the author. He was born in England but was living in Connecticut by the early 1640s up-time.