Tuesday, November 14, 1634

"Kat, remember that the Bibelgesellschaft meeting after school needs to end on time," Georg Meisner reminded his sister after they got off the bus at Calvert High. It was mostly students who called Calvert Calvert. Most people called it Grantville High, as it was the only high school in Germany.

"That wasn't entirely my fault," Katharina protested. She shivered as a particularly strong gust of wind hit.

Georg grinned. "Not entirely, no. But I'm sure it was amusing to confound the rest of the Bible society with Joe Jenkins' distinction between determinism and predestination."

Katharina grinned in return. "Very, as a matter of fact. But I'll try to stay on topic today."

As they funneled toward the front doors of the school, the student ahead of them slapped one of the pillars holding up the weather awning. Georg smacked the pillar as he passed by. Katharina heard the impact as the student behind them hit it, too. Those were the pillars Hans Richter had taken out with a school bus during the Croat Raid. Once they had been replaced, a tradition had developed that any passing student should hit them. Pacifists, including Anabaptists like Georg and Katharina, were generally held to be exempt. But Georg had been hitting the pillar for a while now.

"Mother would have a fit," she pointed out.

"Don't tell her."

"I don't plan to."

"Just remember that I've got forensics training at the police station instead of keeping an eye on the clock for you. If you miss the late bus, it'll be a long walk home. And it's going to be a cold night."

Katharina figured that if the Bible society meeting really did run over again, Dr. Green would almost certainly give everyone a ride home. But Georg had a point—they really ought to end on time, if for no other reason than that Dr Green didn't get enough time with his family as it was. Driving everyone home would just cut into it further.

"It's already a cold day. Should I also not tell Mother exactly what you'll be doing at the police station?" she asked.

"Fingerprints."

"Oh, good. She likes that better than blood spatter. Even though you did use blood spatter to show that nobody really died in that alley in Erfurt last summer."

Georg shrugged. "I have to learn everything if I'm going to be of any use to the police. They can't afford to hire a specialist in every area. That means blood spatter, fingerprints, chemical analysis, and even ballistics."

"She's definitely not going to want you firing a gun."

"I'm not entirely comfortable with it myself."

****

Katharina had made sure to schedule gym for last period again this year. Going back to class after being run ragged in the middle of the day held absolutely no appeal. Plus last-period gym meant last-period science lab or study hall on the non-gym days—which was clearly the most useful time slot for a study hall. Finally, as her brother had pointed out, it was getting cold. Last-period gym meant a couple more minutes of hot shower before catching the bus home. There was hot water at home, of course, but in the Anabaptist settlement up in the hills it was limited in both temperature and quantity.

"Kat, you're going to be late," Marta Engelsberg called from the locker room.

"I'll be there," Katharina shouted back from the shower.

"She's just trying to avoid sitting in the middle of the Kat Meisner Admiration Society," Alicia Rice stated.

"I heard that!"

"The what?" Marta asked.

"Come on, Marta, don't tell me you haven't noticed that Horst Felke and Johannes Musaeus both have a crush on Kat. Your brother, too, but he's a lot more couth about it."

"Alicia!"

"Well, it's true. Do you really think it's an accident that they get there first but never seem to find seats until you walk in? Then they just happen to land on either side of you?"

Katharina sniffed as she dressed. "Horst is Catholic. Johannes is Lutheran."

"Jeans?" Alicia asked.

Katharina had donned jeans instead of her usual skirt. She looked up from fastening dark cuffs over the sleeves of her blouse. "As Georg was reminding me this morning, it's going to be a cold ride home."

Alicia smirked. "If you're cold, you could try sitting closer to one of them."

Katharina glared at her. "It'll be a really cold day before that happens."

Alicia laughed. "Kat, the expression is 'it'll be a cold day in hell.'"

"Yes, well, um . . ." Kat left off and concentrated on rolling her hair into a bun.

"Oh, I'm sorry, Kat. You really don't like it, do you?" Alicia sighed. "Pants, cuffs, hair bun, and those glasses—if you're going for the new-time librarian look, you're got it down. But Kat, it's not going to work. Just as soon as you start talking about manuscripts and variants, well, your fellow nerds will get all excited. C'mon, we'll sit next to you."

"Alicia, you and Nona are in the Bibelgesellschaft too," Katharina reminded her. Then she realized that Nona hadn't said anything at all. That wasn't like her.

"We're wannabe missionaries," Alicia pointed out. "It's a completely different subset from you manuscript geeks."

"Ri-i-ght."

****

The girls arrived in the Greek classroom to find the guys already in mid-discussion.

"So even you Catholics don't object to translating Luke 2:14 'Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace to men of good will' and you don't object to it referring to the elect? Even though Erasmus advocated the freedom of the will?" Markus Fratscher asked. The Flacian Lutheran's tone conveyed careful inquiry, not criticism.

"Yes, the reading eudokias 'of good will' is better supported," Horst Felke responded. "Manuscripts Aleph, A, B, D, W. . . . So it's the Alexandrian and Western text types against the Byzantine."

"Well, that's not quite the whole story, is it?" Joseph Engelsberg looked up from his Greek New Testament. "The nominative eudokia, Wohlgefallen, 'peace, good will to men', is supported by the Byzantine texts and manuscripts F and G from the Western, and the Caesarean—if you believe that's a separate text type."

"So you're going with Luther's reading even though you're an Anabaptist?"

"Cheap shot, Horst. I'm not picking a text type because of my theology. As Brother Green keeps saying, no doctrine rests solely on a variant reading."

"Maybe not. But you have to admit that the oldest and best manuscripts . . ."

Katharina slid into an empty chair. Nona and Alicia took the seats on either side of her. All heads turned toward them.

"Peace on earth?" Katharina inquired sweetly.

"Yeah. We're all agreed on that part," Joseph confirmed. "We're just working on the good will."

Katharina stifled a smile. Joseph had a dry sense of humor, but you had to be paying attention.

Dr. Green spoke up for the first time. "Would you all take a couple minutes to pray and then we'll get started?"

A couple minutes later, Green looked up and announced, "We've received another letter from Patrick Young." He opened a folder and removed a letter with official-looking seals on it. "It's in Latin, of course." He passed it to Father Athanasius Kircher.

Kircher began reading, translating into Amideutsch as he went.

To the several members of the Bibelgesellschaft,

I beg leave to inform you that upon the order of His Majesty Charles, by the Grace of God, King of England, France, Ireland, King of Scots, Defender of the Faith, etc., one William Laud has been attainted for treason. His goods and properties have been seized and escheated to the crown.

Accordingly, I have examined the library lately belonging to the traitor Laud and have discovered a manuscript of the Holy Scriptures. It contains the Acts of the Apostles in a diglot, with the Latin upon the left-hand side and the Greek upon the right. It is in the uncial style, with each line containing but one to three words. It has come to his Majesty's attention that the manuscript was becoming identified with the traitor. Therefore, it is henceforth to be known as Codex Carolianus. It is requested that this designation be entered upon your catalog of the manuscripts of the Holy Scriptures.

I am your humble servant,

Patrick Young

Royal Librarian

Al Green surveyed the room with a grin as everyone burst out talking at once. Several rifled through reprinted Nestle-Aland Greek New Testaments, seeking the list of manuscripts in appendix I. Katharina didn't. She reached for one of their few copies of The Text of the New Testament by Metzger, one of the editors of the Nestle-Aland. She disagreed with almost all of Metzger's conclusions but his descriptions included the manuscript names and not just their Gregory numbers.

"That dolt Charles wants to rename this codex after himself?"

"It'll be a cold day in . . ."

"Ahem!" Dr. Green interrupted.

"E!" Katharina exclaimed. "Codex Laudianus is manuscript E!"

"Is that Gregory number 07 or 08?"

Horst located it in the Greek New Testament's appendix. "08. It's Acts 1:1 through 26:28. Sixth century. In the up-time it ended up in the Bodleian Library."

Father Athanasius Kircher spoke up. "England is doing well for itself. Alexandrinus, Bezae, and now Laudianus or Carolianus. At least there's no British Museum to get its hands on Sinaiticus yet."

"We ought to keep it that way," Horst muttered.

"What's notable about E?" Johannes Musaeus asked.

"It's the oldest manuscript with Acts 8:37 in it," Katharina answered after another quick look at Metzger's book.

Five minutes later, Magister Kircher curtailed the discussion of the significance of that. He had spent the time reading the discussion of Codex Laudianus in Metzger's book. "Between this manuscript having been in Laud's possession and having Latin and Greek on opposite pages in such short lines, identification is almost certain. However, as scholars we ought to confirm it. We should send Master Young a list of distinctive readings."

"Absolutely," Dr Green agreed. "Second-year Greek class, you can assume upcoming homework will be to choose a series of verses whose readings when taken together will be unique to Laudianus."

Horst glanced over at Katharina. "Let's see who can demonstrate positive identification with the fewest verses," he suggested.

"You're on," Musaeus agreed, also with a glance in Katharina's direction. "Uh, Dr Green, I assume you'll want those of us not in second-year Greek to do the same."

Green nodded. It probably made it easier to keep a straight face, Katharina thought sourly. She did not want to get involved in a competition—especially since it was the guys' way of flirting. Then she remembered something her brother had said.

"Georg was telling me about how fingerprints were used in the up-time. Police officers did the same sort of things we're going to do. They didn't follow every line to make an identification—they looked for memorable features. If enough of these points of comparison matched, they could say that the fingerprint came from a certain person. Six or seven was considered a probable match, but they really wanted ten or more. Just to be sure."

"A good comparison," Kircher acknowledged. "These seals show that at a minimum Charles's advisors, if not necessarily the king himself, approved this letter. They may have even told Master Young what to write or what not to write." He held up a hand as speculation began. "My point is merely that lawyers were involved. So it would be a good thing to have more points of comparison than strictly necessary."

"In that case," Horst said, "let's modify the challenge. Positive identification with the fewest possible points but with enough additional points to convince even a lawyer."

"Perhaps a whole second set of proof texts," Johannes agreed.

Katharina carefully avoided making eye contact with anyone at all.

"Are you in, Kat?" Horst asked.

She desperately tried to change the subject. "I was just thinking. This gives us A and E 08. We know where Aleph, B, and D are. We should make sure they're being protected."

Johannes went back to appendix I. "Aleph should be at St. Catherine's monastery. We need to meet with the Orthodox priest at the Russian embassy and see if he can contact his fellow Orthodox. B is in the Vatican. . . ."

"I've been assured it is safe," Kircher said. He sounded quite certain.

"D?"

"Cambridge," Joseph said.

"What about C?" Marta asked. "We skipped it."

"Ephraem Rescriptus," Kat supplied as she looked it up in Metzger. "It's a palimpsest. The biblical text was erased, and the pages were reused for sermons of Ephraem the Syrian. It's in . . . Paris."

"How did that happen?"

She read on. "I don't believe this. It was part of Marie di Medici's dowry when she became queen of France."

"So Richelieu has it," Johannes muttered in obvious disgust.

"Yes, he does," Katharina said slowly. "But does he know it? And should we tell him?"

"What do you mean?"

"The men who studied it—the ones who are listed here are Tischendorf and later. I can't tell if anyone knows it's a palimpsest yet."

"Why include it in a dowry if it's not a Bible?"

Kat remembered to check the clock. It was time to wrap things up.

"I don't know."

Dr. Green had followed her glance. "Well, that will make a good project. Everyone see if you can find out if anyone besides us knows that C is actually a biblical manuscript. But—don't let anyone know that we know. Also, be prepared to discuss whether or not we should tell Richelieu and why."

Just then the door burst open and a student who attended St. Mary's rushed in. "Father! There's been an excommunication!"

Earlier that afternoon

Edgar Neustatter leaned against the wall as Astrid Schaubin gave him her weekly report. Things were going well for Neustatter's European Security Services.

"So," he summarized, "we've got enough cash right now to hire two more men but not enough cash flow to guarantee them payroll, ammo, and feed for the extra horses?"

"That's correct," Astrid told him.

Neustatter shrugged. "Then we'll wait. We haven't had the third team all that long anyway. Everyone will be just as happy if I don't have to switch the teams around again already." He pushed away from the wall. "I signed us up for the evening business class at the high school so we'd learn how the up-timers thought and to make contacts. But it's actually pretty useful in its own right."

"Last night was a very important lesson about property taxes," Astrid noted.

"You asked around?"

"This morning I called a few other businesses that belong to the Chamber of Commerce. Everyone agrees that property taxes will go up, most likely by the maximum allowed by the county government."

"And our landlord will raise our rent by that amount and a little bit more."

It was Astrid's turn to shrug. "What do you expect? That's just good business."

"We need to find some more assignments to pay her, then. Ditmar's team should be back from Schleusingen in a day or two. Escorting shipments of guns to the Thuringian backbone and the Elbetal is steady income, but now that the Ram Rebellion is over, that's going to be just one team from now on. Let's start at Cora's for information and then stop by the stock exchange."

Astrid put on her coat and then her gun belt.

****

It was a cold enough day that there were fewer people than usual in the streets. On the other hand, Cora's Courthouse Café was more crowded than usual. Neustatter and Astrid found seats at the counter.

Marlo broke off a conversation with the patrons at one of the tables to take their order.

"Coffee, black."

Astrid didn't know how Neustatter could drink that stuff. She ordered beef broth. When the waitress returned with their order, Neustatter asked, "What's new, Marlo?"

"Well, Hans Dietrich Mueller says the pastor of that storefront church is back in town. The Lutheran one that's here but ain't s'posed to be. Leastwise that's what Frau Piscatore, Pastor Kastenmayer's wife, says. You go there, too, don't you?"

Astrid had to struggle to keep from looking at Marlo. Instead she watched Neustatter.

"Yes, we do," Neustatter said calmly. "I hadn't heard Pastor Holz was back. We should stop by later and pay our respects." But Astrid saw that the look in his eyes was his professional business expression.

After Marlo moved on to another table, Astrid quickly asked, "What is it, Neustatter?"

"I saw Hans Dietrich Mueller yesterday. He and Wilhelm Trauber delivered the kegs of small beer and picked up the empties."

Astrid nodded. Much of the new construction in West Virginia County had city water, but many of the down-timers (and not a few up-timers) preferred small beer. With the ban on daytime traffic downtown, there wasn't a practical way to take beer home in quantity. A few enterprising souls had noted the existence of paper routes and garbage routes and set up a beer route. Grantville proper got deliveries early in the morning. The development where Neustatter's men lived was on the Monday afternoon route.

"Maybe Pastor Holz just got in last night," Astrid suggested.

"Maybe." But Astrid could tell Neustatter didn't believe it for a minute.

They found no leads on new security assignments at Cora's. The exchange was little better, but the stock market was having a good day.

"The Street says it's a post-war boom," Neustatter told Astrid. "The Ostend War, the Ram Rebellion, and the Dutch War are all over. I don't know how they distinguish that from the fact that times have been good ever since we've come to Grantville. Probably since Grantville showed up."

Astrid frowned. "The only thing I notice is that the Dutch guilder has gone up."

"That makes it easier for the Dutch to buy goods here," Neustatter said. "If they come here to buy, they'll come with their own security. But if they're ordering from a factor here and additional shipments are being sent, that could work out for us. If I understand correctly, it should help tourism from the Low Countries, too."

"But tourists bring their own security," Astrid pointed out.

"Yes, they do," Neustatter agreed. He shrugged. "I'm glad everyone here is having a good day, but there's no reason for us to stick around. "

"You want to go to the church."

"Yes."

****

As they approached the church, Neustatter spoke softly. "Two men, outside the door."

"Neustatter, those look like sentries."

"Ja. If Pastor Holz needs sentries . . ."

"Why didn't he call us?" Astrid finished. "That's Martin Rausch."

"And the other one is one of Schlinck's men." Neustatter sounded disgusted, and for good reason.

"Seven contractors in town and Pastor Holz called Schlinck?" Astrid asked.

"Well, they're cheap. And if all you need is people shoved out of your way, they're effective."

"They're also responsible for half the incidents of 'liberated' items that led to all the government paperwork security contractors have to file," Astrid reminded him. Quite unnecessarily, she was sure.

Neustatter raised a hand in greeting as they drew near.

"Martin. Are things well at the machine shop?"

Rausch didn't answer. Neustatter ignored the rudeness and turned to the mercenary.

"I don't believe we've met. I'm Neustatter."

"I know."

"Please tell Captain Schlinck I said hello."

"Wait here." The sentry went inside.

Neustatter and Astrid looked at each other. "Schlinck's inside."

The sentry was back in a couple minutes. "Tell him yourself," he said.

Neustatter opened the door for Astrid. She stepped inside. The door opened right into the back of the nave; the storefront church wasn't very big. A semi-circle of five men were waiting for them.

"Pastor Holz. Welcome back." Neustatter began greeting them. "Captain Schlinck. Herr Krause. Herr Bruenner. Herr Ziegler."

"How did you find out we were here, Neustatter?" Bruenner asked.

"I didn't know you were here. We heard Pastor Holz had returned and came to pay our respects. Clearly we're interrupting something, so we'll see you all at the service on Sunday." Neustatter turned to go.

Astrid was pretty sure he had no intention of actually leaving. She noticed Holz and Schlinck exchanging glances. The mercenary nodded slightly.

"Just a minute, Neustatter," Holz said. "This concerns you." He held out a rolled parchment and slit the seal. Unrolling it, he began reading through a proclamation in Latin. Astrid had no idea what he was saying.

Holz finished reading and looked at Neustatter triumphantly.

"Well now, Pastor, you said this concerns me but I reckon I don't know anyone who would want to write me in Latin," Neustatter said in distinctly twangy Amideutsch.

"What it says, Neustatter, is that true Lutherans are not allowed to do business with heretics. In particular, you are forbidden from accepting contracts from heretics who want to change the Holy Scriptures."

"On whose orders?"

"Tilesius."

"Why?"

"Because they're heretics, Neustatter. They are trying to change the Holy Scriptures."

"So are you and Tilesius trying to forbid all Lutherans from signing contracts with any and all heretics or are y'all just trying to disrupt NESS's contract with the Bibelgesellschaft?" Neustatter asked sharply.

"Any Lutheran is forbidden from signing any contract with any heretic," Holz replied. He sounded quite pleased with that prospect. "It will be official as soon as it is posted on the church door."

"Have you really thought this through?" Neustatter asked.

"We have, Neustatter, and there will be no exceptions. So you will not be working for this so-called Bibelgesellschaft," Holz stated.

"Miss Schaubin?" Neustatter asked. "Last time we guarded the Bibelgesellschaft, who hired us?"

"Markus Fratscher did all the talking," Astrid answered. She had a pretty good idea where Neustatter was going with this.

"Ah, young Master Fratscher. A fine young Flacian scholar who'd really like to enroll in university in Wittenberg," Neustatter recalled. "Of course he's not old enough to sign a binding contract."

"Dr. Gerhard signed the paperwork," Astrid supplied.

"I'm confused, Pastor Holz," Neustatter drawled. "Are you sure Tilesius means to tell Dean Gerhard that he's not allowed to hire us?"

Holz's face turned an alarming shade of red. Ziegler sputtered and coughed.

"That's enough, Neustatter. These are binding orders."

"And if I refuse?" Neustatter's question came out in an Austrian-accented drawl.

Astrid cringed. She knew what it meant when her boss sounded like Arnold Schwarzenegger playing John Wayne. But Pastor Holz wouldn't be familiar with up-time culture. . . . Too late!

"Then I will put you under discipline," Holz stated flatly. Alas, he had missed the signs.

"So that's how it's going to be?" Neustatter asked.

"That is how it is," Holz answered.

"Are you trying to force me to drop the Bibelgesellschaft contract or all contracts with non-Lutherans?" Neustatter asked again.

"All contracts with non-Flacian Lutherans."

"Pastor, I cannot possibly stay in business if I limit my client base to no more than every sixth or seventh—or tenth—person in Grantville. Captain Schlinck will have the same problem." Neustatter turned toward the mercenary. "Guarding the misdemeanor prisoners on the road crews and at the tannery is still one of your big contracts, isn't it?"

"It is, and it's a contract you won't get anytime soon," Schlinck replied.

"Of course not," Neustatter agreed. "I don't have enough men to bid on that contract. But what I'm wondering is whether you realize that the partners who own that tannery are all Philippists. Or you, Herr Krause. Your employer is Catholic and employs everyone from Calvinists to Anabaptists. Or you, Herr Bruenner. Stockyard Number Three is a joint venture with Jews, and you keep the whole operation kosher because it's less of a hassle that way. If anybody's got a problem with it, you just tell them to buy meat tagged from Stockyard Number One or Number Two. What are y'all going to do with this order from Tilesius?"

Bruenner and Krause glanced at each other uneasily.

"This doesn't apply to situations like those," Holz stated.

"Why not?" Neustatter asked. "They're all heretics."

"It doesn't apply," Holz repeated stubbornly.

"Then it doesn't apply to NESS and me, either," Neustatter stated.

"Since you refuse to comply, Neustatter, I hereby. . . ."

Neustatter cut him off. "I excommunicate you, Pankratz Holz."

"You can't do that!" the pastor blurted.

"I just did. And Schlinck . . . eh, there's really no point in excommunicating you, is there? Meine Herren." Neustatter touched his hat. "Miss Schaubin, you'll be going now."

Astrid shook her head to clear it, then realized Neustatter wanted her back at the doors so she could cover him. Holz and Schlinck were both shouting. Their words didn't register; she was still thinking through the ramifications of her boss excommunicating the pastor—starting with whether that was even allowed. But she pushed the door open—the one on the left, blocking Schlinck's man. Then she stepped right, bumping into Martin Rausch.

Neustatter backed out the door a couple seconds later. He swept the door shut with his left foot and braced his boot against it. Simultaneously he leveled the .45 in his right hand at the mercenary while drawing the mercenary's own pistol with his left. He passed it over his shoulder to Astrid.

"Miss Schaubin, meine Herren, please stay clear of the door," Neustatter directed. "I had to excommunicate Holz. Schlinck didn't take it well. He is armed and may do something rash." His words were punctuated by a thud. Neustatter removed his boot from the door and jumped clear. With a second thud, the doors burst open, and Schlinck sprawled onto the ground. Neustatter quickly relieved him of his pistol.

Another man cautiously stuck his head outside.

"Ah, Herr Ziegler," Neustatter said. "Miss Schaubin and I are leaving now. We're going to set these two pistols down . . . say at that pine tree just past the bend in the road. Would you be so kind at to retrieve them for Captain Schlinck and his man? Good day. Miss Schaubin, if you'd watch for cars, I'll watch our backs."

Astrid and Neustatter quickly crossed the street and headed back toward NESS. Neustatter kept an eye on the men at the church, but they showed no inclination to follow. When they reached the pine, Neustatter removed the caps from Schlinck's pistol and laid it at the base of the tree. He set the caps on top of it. Astrid did the same with the other mercenary's pistol. It gave her something to concentrate on.

"Neustatter," she managed, "I think we're in a lot of trouble."

"Possibly."

"I'm pretty sure you're not supposed to excommunicate pastors."

"Well, I already did. But I agree we need to find out all the implications. We will go back to headquarters and tell the men what happened. Then I want you and Hjalmar to go talk to Pastor Kastenmayer, Herr Gary Lambert, and someone in the Bibelgesellschaft. Fratscher, if you can find him. Or Dr. Gerhard or Musaeus if either of them are in town for today's meeting."

"I understand."

"Now, what do you think of what I just did?"

"I'm not sure yet," Astrid told him. "I'm Lutheran, Neustatter, but what Pastor Holz just tried to do is unfair."

****

"I thought this sort of nonsense was over," Hjalmar muttered.

"My parents named me for Melanchthon," Phillip pointed out. "I don't really care what a Flacian pastor has to say. Meaning no offense to the rest of you."

Karl Recker was more reserved. "The eight of us who fought together in the war are all Flacian. We just want a quiet church with a pastor who tries to help us. We can adapt. But Wolfram and Stefan have families. Their wives are Flacians, too, and they haven't had to deal with priests and pastors and chaplains all telling them what to do."

Neustatter nodded. "I don't want to make trouble for the families. Hjalmar and Astrid are going to go find out more information for us."

****

A brief visit to St. Martin's in the Fields established that any Lutheran on bad terms with Pankratz Holz was welcome in Pastor Kastenmayer's congregation. Kastenmayer suggested that Holz may have said a good bit more than Tilesius had written. Someone needed to get hold of the exact wording.

"Let's skip Herr Lambert for now," Astrid suggested. "We'll need to hire a Latin ...