The Second Interview
Suhl, June 6, 1636
After dinner at the Boar’s Head Inn, the Mitchells agreed to another interview. “Come for dinner with us tomorrow,” Marjorie asked the brother and sister. “You can meet the rest of our little family.”
“Danke, Frau Mitchell,” Bloem said. “We’ll be there. We plan to interview other up-timer residents while we’re here.”
“Good luck with that,” Archie said. “Most of them are busier than we are.”
Harley Thomas, Karl Mohn, and the two constabulary troopers left early the following morning, but not before Karl got an address for Maria D’Angelo. He asked permission from her and her brother if he’d be allowed to write to Maria. Maria gave him permission. She didn’t grant her brother the option of saying no. For Archie and Dieter, the day would be a court day, and both would be busy.
Maria D’Angelo and Thomas Bloem met Archie and Dieter at the courthouse the following evening and walked home with them. Suhl was not flat, like some parts of Thuringia. The route to the Mitchell-Issler home was uphill most of the way. Bloem and Maria D’Angelo were puffing when they arrived at Greta’s bakery.
Greta opened the door for them as they approached and waved them inside. “I heard you on the porch. I can always tell when Archie gets home. Clump…clump…clump,” she said, laughing.
Three customers remained in the bakery. Greta had a successful sales policy. Day-old bread was half-price. She limited the sale of the older bread to those greater in need. She knew who could afford full price and who could not.
Greta made her last sale. “How can you do that?” Maria D’Angelo asked as the last customer left the bakery. “Discount your day-old bread? Your cost isn’t less. You lose money.”
“It’s no secret,” Greta replied. “It’s what Marjorie calls customer service. What we do brings more walk-in customers. Most of our sales are to inns and larger residences in Suhl, regular customers who buy on a fixed schedule and amount. The continuing orders include pastries and other special items that are more profitable. Then there’s market day. I never come home with anything on market day.”
Marjorie appeared from the rear of the bakery. “Welcome! Archie, lock the door and we’ll all go back to the dining room.” She turned aside to ask Maria D’Angelo, “Do you like Italian food? I’ve made lasagna with garlic bread for dinner.”
The down-time woman looked confused. “Ah, I’ve never been to Italy, but it sounds delicious. Garlic on bread?” she asked, following Marjorie down the hall.
“I’ll check on Marta,” Dieter said, and followed the women.
“After you,” Archie said to Thomas Bloem. “Everyone will be here shortly.”
* * *
Archie, Dieter, Maria D’Angelo, and Thomas Bloem sat around the large dining table while Greta took little Marta, who had nodded off at the table in the middle of dinner, upstairs to bed. Marjorie, in the meantime, cleared the table. The diners finished the lasagna and the garlic bread.
Marjorie gave Maria her recipe. “It’s wonderful! I would have never thought to add garlic to toasted, buttered bread.”
Dieter came up from their cooler in the cellar, bringing a small keg of ale. “I’ve a friend, an innkeeper, brews the best ale in Suhl. I buy a half-barrel from him every month,” Dieter said.
“And the innkeeper advertises his brew as Dieter’s Favorite, a new brand,” Archie added.
Thomas Bloem looked surprised. “Do you all have that much influence here? I’d think up-timers would have less the farther they are from Grantville.”
Greta and Marjorie returned to the table and sat. With everyone seated, Thomas Bloem asked his first question. “If I’ve calculated correctly, an entire year passed from the fight with the outlaws near Rudolstadt, until the creation of the marshals service.”
Archie scratched his chin, taking his time forming a response. “Yes, that’s about right.”
“Why so long?”
“That fight had a bigger physical impact on us—Max, Harley, and myself—than we’d thought. We all spent at least a month under Doc Nichols’ care; when he was available. Max has arrhythmia, irregular heart rhythm. It had been under control with medication. He’d had surgery for it several years ago, before the Ring of Fire, but he still needed medication occasionally. He’d had an episode during the gunfight, but Doc Nichols got it running again as it should. Harley messed up his knee and spent a couple of months under PT—”
“PT?” Maria asked.
“Physical therapy. Special exercises to strengthen the muscles around his knee. Up-time, he’d have had surgery, but not here.”
“And you?” she asked.
“Almost died,” Marjorie answered. “The wound in his leg got infected from the water in the well that he used to clean the wound after the shootout.”
“I don’t remember everything Doc Nichols did on me for the first month,” Archie said.
“He was feverish and delirious,” Marjorie continued, “and had several surgeries to drain the infection. Doctor Nichols even used some of the reserved antibiotics to kill the infection.”
“I didn’t know that!” Archie said.
“The Powers that Be approved it.”
“Huh. I remember him debriding the wound, removing scar tissue.”
“That was later, Archie, but he couldn’t get it all.”
“And,” Archie said, turning back to Bloem, “that’s why I have a big knot in my leg from the bullet. Smarts at times.”
Maria and Thomas sat quietly, taking notes while Archie and Marjorie talked. When the couple took a breath, Thomas asked, “Is that why you use a walking stick?”
“Yes, when I first came to Suhl with Dieter. Not so much now, but it came in handy after arrival.”
“Really handy,” Dieter said, speaking for the first time. “When we came here to Suhl, just Archie and me, we weren’t exactly welcomed.”
“No one knew why, nor for what reason, we were there. We weren’t all that sure ourselves,” Archie said. “It started with the badges…”