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Jenny and the King's Men

Written by Mark H. Huston

And thus a mighty deed was done by Jenny's valiant hand,
Black Prelacy and Popery she drove from Scottish land;
King Charles he was a shuffling knave, priest Laud a meddling fool,
But Jenny was a woman wise, who beat them with a stool!

The column of soldiers advanced down High Street from Edinburgh castle. They parted the market-day crowd like a trout swimming upstream. Young boys ran up and down the column of soldiers, reveling in the novelty of having a troop of King Charles' men marching through their market.

Ahead of the boys flew the rumors. By the time the squad of soldiers and their officer reached the corner of St. Giles Street and High Street, where the greengrocers and fishmongers were selling their wares in the shadow of St. Giles Cathedral, the rumors had raced ahead of them like wildfire.

Jenny Geddes, the greengrocer in the second stand from the end, had one eye on the soldiers and the other on the vegetables in her cart. When there was a distraction in the street, someone, usually one of the street urchins, would dart up and try to run off with a carrot or two. Not today. She had been doing this for over twenty years, taking the stand over from her father when he died. And if her two daughters were lucky, maybe one of them could do the same.

The officer bellowed out his halt order, and the soldiers stopped in front of the cathedral.

Jenny took a moment and sucked on her pipe, put her hand on her hip and glared at the soldiers. Ever since Charles, she thought, that dirty papist-leaning king with a Catholic wife, arrested a whole lot of young lords over talk of a rebellion, things have been unsettled.

But there was nothing that required this sort of armed display down the middle of High Street. She shook her head at the nonsense, and went back to keeping one eye on her stand and one eye on the troops in the street. Besides, that mess was over weeks ago; they were past this sort of thing. Bad for business, it is.

The troops stopped at the other end of the square, and she could hear the murmur of the crowd around them. She grabbed her little three-legged stool and stood on it to get a better view, still keeping one eye on the cart. She thought she heard her name and raised her hand to shield her eyes from the glare of the sun. She shifted her pipe to the other side of her mouth. It fit well on both sides, as she had teeth missing on the right and left. She squinted against the sunlight with her not-so-perfect thirty-five-year-old eyes, and listened again.

"They be a looking fer Jenny?" someone said. "Jenny Geddes?"

"What on earth has she done?" said another.

An old man spit on the ground. "These are t'king's men. Why would they be looking fer Jenny Geddes? That makes not a wit o' sense."

Heads and eyes began to swivel toward Jenny. She stepped off the stool as inconspicuously as possible, and knocked the fire out of her pipe on the heel of her shoe. The pipe went into her pocket. She could see the soldiers advancing through the crowd to her left and to her right. They were surrounding her.

She had a decision to make. Stay or flee. In all of her years in Edinburgh, she had never seen anyone who was arrested in this manner live to tell the tale. She thought of her daughters, her small plots of land outside the city gates, and made her decision. It was a simple and practical decision. There would be certain torture or death in the hands of the king's men. She had done nothing wrong—at least nothing wrong enough to send more than the sheriff after her. Whatever the reason that they were coming for her—guilty, innocent, mistaken identity—it was a sure thing that no good would come of it.

Flee.

She'd had a talent for evading pursuit since she was a girl. The twists and turns and dead ends of the medieval streets of Edinburgh were a playground to her as a child. She knew she could evade them, but then what?

Jenny scooped up the few coins she had made this morning, moved back from the oncoming soldiers, and headed for the church courtyard directly behind her. There was a small passage that led to Candlemaker's way, and then to Cowpath Street. She took Cowpath Street into town every morning at dawn. It was one of the few streets on the south side of the town that had its own gate, one of only a handful into the walled city. She'd make for that gate.

Troops were hollering for her to stop, and she sprinted to a narrow opening in the corner of the courtyard. She wasn't quite as skinny as she had been as a girl, but she still fit. Her tattered clothing caught on the bricks, but she kept moving.

The opening became a long passageway between two buildings, with just enough room to slip sideways between them. The bright sunlight abruptly changed to shadow as she shuffled sideways into the musty passageway. It smelled of urine. She tried not to think about what was happening to her shoes.

She glanced behind her and could see the soldiers gathering at the opening. She kept shuffling as fast as she could.

"Where does this come out?" growled the officer. "You four stay here, you two follow her in the passage, the rest of you come with me."

She glanced back again, and saw two men begin to squeeze into the passage. She knew her pursuers would have to work their way back through the dense market-day crowd still clustered in the church courtyard. They would then have to backtrack up the hill to another street that cut through, and then race back. By then, she should be long gone.

"If I wasn't so afraid, this would almost be funny," she muttered when she popped out of the passageway a moment later. Her pair of pursuers had gotten stuck.

"Cowpath Road is where I need t'be," she thought. "If I can get there, I'll go home and get the bairns, and then I'll. . . ." The thought trailed off as she continued to walk quickly through the maze of the city. Then what? She had no savings, no money, and no immediate family. Since her husband had died five years ago, she had been just holding on. There was some help from the church, but charity always irritated her. "One thing at a time, Jenny me girl, one thing at a time."

The terrain turned dramatically downhill as she continued to slip between buildings, and she knew she was close to the road. Just a few more yards and she would be in view of the gate. She slowed to a walk and caught her breath. Soldiers were nowhere in sight, far behind and limited to the streets.

"Attract no attention to yerself, lass" she thought, "just walk around this corner and be calm. Say g'day just like always."

She peered out from around the corner, looking straight at Cowgate. She took a moment and looked carefully. Everything seemed normal. She waited, and watched. She was about to step around the corner when a young woman carrying a basket approached the gate to leave the city. As the girl reached the open gate, soldiers appeared from outside the gate. With their swords drawn.

"Well, now. That's a bit odd." Jenny kept watching. The soldiers questioned the girl, inspecting her basket carefully. They then started leering, and grabbed at her. She complained and pulled away. McNulty, the regular gatekeeper and toll collector, stepped in and spoke to the men. McNulty was over fifty years old, and in no shape to take on two soldiers. But his commanding demeanor, roughly honed by three decades at Cowgate, convinced the men to let the girl through the gate without further molestation. He continued to talk to them after she had gone on her way. He then began to talk very animatedly to the men, who responded in kind. The argument continued. McNulty was one of the few honest gatekeepers in the city, and he had known Jenny all of her life. He was the gatekeeper when her father had his stand.

Jenny leaned back against the wall, out of sight of the gate and tried to think. Were they searching for her at the gate? She had to find out before she tried to go through. She frantically tried to think of a way to find out what was going on; how could she get home without being discovered?

"Dear Lord Jesus, please give me a way t'git home wi' me bairns," she whispered softly with her hands folded. "Take me if ye needs, but leave them be, please." She would need to act quickly; the other soldiers would be coming soon.

She heard footsteps approach from the direction of the gate. She eased further away from the street and pressed against the building. She watched McNulty pass on his way up the street. He was muttering to himself, still upset from his encounter with the soldiers.

Jenny took a sharp breath as he walked past her, and made another quick decision. "Oy. McNulty. It's me, Jenny Geddes. What be happening? Are they looking for me?"

McNulty stopped suddenly, and did not respond. He casually eased toward the corner where Jenny was hiding, and leaned his back to the wall facing the street. He did not look at her. He looked up and down the street, and then spoke quietly over his shoulder. "Jenny Geddes, wa' in Gods name did ye do, lass? They got the king's men out after ye. I ain't seen the likes of this fer many a year." He paused and pulled his cap down lower on his face. "Aye, they be looking fer ye. They got orders to kill ye. W'a di' ye do, lass?"

"Nothing. I swear it on my mother's grave, McNulty. Ye knows me, knows I go t'kirk always. I don't cheat folks. I am a god-fearing woman and I have a business. I didn't do nothing." She paused to think. "I don't like the papists, ye know that. But who does?"

"Then why are they looking fer ye, lass?"

Finally the frustration welled up in her, as the adrenaline melted away. She began to cry. "I swear that I hae done nothing! I just want to get back to me bairns and hug 'em and make sure they are well." She sniffed, and regained control. No time to cry. "I hae got to get home, McNulty. Wa' cannae do?"

"They will be a waiting fer ye at home, Jenny. You got to hide. All the gates be manned like this one, with English soldiers. You got to hide."

"But me bairns . . ." The tears welled up again.

"Have you heard of the 'Committees of Correspondence'?"

"Aye." She sniffed. "The ones with the speeches and the place on Little’s Close" She sniffed again.

"Go there. Ask for the German. His name is Otto. He will be able to help ye. I will send word through him aboot the bairns. Go and stay outta sight. If they catch you, they will kill you. That much I do know from these lads at me gate. Ye may want to hide until it's dark; there will be just a sliver of moon tonight. I will find out about the bairns." He glanced toward the gate. "Get away from here. The bloody English lads at the gate are starting to notice me here. So git."

"There will be more soldiers coming soon. They will be looking fer me."

"Lord, girl. What could they want with you? Now git on w'ye, before they get suspicious."

"God bless ye, McNulty."

"Git, woman!"

****

Otto Artmann sat in the back room of the tiny CoC building in near perfect darkness and listened. He could hear the rats moving in the dark alley behind. Most of Edinburgh had gone home for the night. Soldiers had stopped patrolling the streets looking for Jenny.

Carefully, so as not to make any noise, he shifted positions in his chair. He had been sitting for two hours, waiting, and his leg was falling asleep. He had caught a bad pike wound in his calf while fighting in the Germanies four years ago. After his capture by the Americans, he was released into a new world. A world he was determined to make better. He had spent a lot of his life making the world worse. He pushed the old thoughts out of his head, and focused on listening again. He was rewarded with a new sound. Silence. The rats had stopped moving in the alley. Silently, as he rose from the chair, he slid his dagger out of the sheath in his boot, and moved to the back door. It was so quiet that he could hear someone breathing and the movement of fabric from behind the door.

"Otto? Are ye there? Otto?" The voice was low, quiet, tense.

He paused before answering. "Aye. Who is this? Who sent you?"

"McNulty. I'm Jenny. Jenny Geddes."

"I'm going to open the door. Jenny, please step forward and I'll close it behind you."

"Aye."

Still in darkness, he opened the door and allowed the person to walk in. "Step in and stop."

The dim light that came in from the alley gave him a silhouette, nothing more, but he thought she fit the description.

She whispered, "Are you Otto? You sound German."

"I'm Otto," he said and closed the door. "Wait and I'll uncover a candle."

He looked at her when he uncovered the candle. Her face was plain, he decided. Worn, tired. She had a large frame for a Scot, tall, sturdy. Her nose had been broken once or twice. She was dirty from her ordeal and her clothing was soiled and dank. When she smiled back at him, he could see that she was missing teeth. He had lost a few teeth over the years himself, so who was he to judge?

"I'm a bit of boggin, I am." She looked away. "Thank ye. I'm no' used to charity, an I don't know if I kin repay ye the kindness." She straightened, as if realizing what she said, and looked him in the face. "I'm no' a girl who would be repaying ye wit, well, ye knows." She looked down at her body and smoothed her dirty dress. "I don't do that, nere will. Ye ken that?"

"I understand, Jenny. I don't expect anything in return, at least not now. And when I do, it will not be that sort of thing. Do you want something to drink or eat?"

"Aye. Both please."

Otto handed her a mug of beer, turned and began to prepare her food. "What do you know of the Committees, Jenny?"

"No' a lot. Ye just do braw for people. Guilds nae like ye. Ye have something to with the strange people from Germany. S'posed to be from the future. That's all."

"The Americans."

"Aye, thems the ones." She paused and looked up at him. "What de ye hear 'bout me bairns? Are they safe? Do ye know? I ha' been worried to death. I dunno what I'd do if something happened—"

"They are safe with some people who are with the Committee. The soldiers came to your home looking for you, and the girls hid. We found them later in the afternoon when they went to the Dunnes. They are safe."

He watched as she bowed her head, and prayed a quiet thanks. She looked up at him. "The Dunnes be good people. When can I see them?"

"We need to get you safe first. Do you have any idea why they are trying to hurt you?"

"No. I have been thinking on that all night; I cannae come up with an answer. I don't know what I have done. Ye think they have me mixed with another Jenny of some sort?"

"We don't know. But we are trying to find out. We think the order may have come from London. The timing is right. You were wise to run away when you did. Damn that King Charles."

"I not like words like that if it's not in the kirk." She grinned mischievously. "But I did run, didn't I?" She smiled again. Otto liked the way her face lit up when it smiled, even with the missing teeth.

"Your food is ready. It's not warm, I don't want to risk a cooking fire and draw attention to us. This room has no windows, and we fixed it so there is no danger of someone seeing the light from the candle."

"I see." She bowed her head and offered a short prayer over the food, and then she wolfed the small meal down.

"We don't understand what is happening, Jenny. But something tells me that you're part of it. Or will be in the future. We'll have to find out which part you play. Or will play. You can stay upstairs here, and out of sight till tomorrow. Then we will move you to a safe house, and possibly out of the city in a few days when things settle down a little."

"And me bairns?"

"After we move you, we will get you together with your children."

She nodded and smiled. As he watched, he saw the energy drain out of her. The tension of not knowing about her children must have been a huge strain. And now that she knows they are safe, she probably wants to sleep. He picked up the candle.

"Take this, Jenny. There's a loft above this room; the ladder is over there. There is some clean bedding; we will get you some clean clothes tomorrow. And don't worry, I will be down here all night."

He watched her slowly climb the ladder to the loft. When the candle went out, he sat back down in his chair and listened for the rats to return outside.

****

"What do you mean, they failed to capture her?" John Lauder was not a happy man, and his high-pitched voice squeaked higher than usual. He coughed to bring it under control. "I wanted her head, dammit."

Lieutenant William Hignall shifted his weight from foot to foot. He was clearly uncomfortable. Lauder liked him to be uncomfortable. "Sir, the troop and I did exactly as ye requested. We thought we had her trapped in the churchyard during the market, but she escaped down a passageway we couldn't follow."

"Is she still in the city?"

"We don't know for sure." Lauder shot his best glare at the man, and watched him with satisfaction as he carefully considered the rest of his answer. "But . . . we believe she is. Her children have also disappeared. She is hiding somewhere—"

"You have a keen grasp of the obvious for one in your position, Lieutenant," snapped Lauder.

Hignall inhaled, exhaled, and tried to relax. "Sir, she is probably in one of the tenements somewhere in town. She has no family to speak of, although she is well thought of with the lower class of people in the city. She sits at church as a placeholder on the Sabbath for some of the more devout families. I am certain we will find her."

Lauder stood up. "That is what I am paying you and your men for, Lieutenant. To find her. If she is hiding, then let it be known that there is a reward." He crossed his arms and looked coldy at the Lieutenant. “This reward is an investment for me, Hignall. A substantial investment, in my future. Go now and do your duty as I have requested. In the kings name, of course.”

Lauder watched as the Lieutenant retreated through the door of his study. He smiled. John Lauder knew something that not many men could say. He knew the future. He repeated it to himself. The phrase seemed so unnatural.

He knew what had happened to him in that other future, and he was going to improve it. In his old future, he had achieved one of the goals of his life. Peerage. Nobility.

He was a merchant. Wildly successful, and rich. Richer than most of the so-called nobility. He huffed at the irony. He was a commoner, who could buy and sell many of them.

In that other future, he achieved only the lowest ranks of nobility. He smiled coldly as he looked at the papers in front of him. The conclusion to be drawn from them was obvious, even if it was not written as such. During the war with Scotland, which now might not be fought, he had supported King Charles. That much was clear. He was rewarded with lands taken from those who opposed the king. Which increased his vast fortune even further. He was given the opportunity to buy a baronetcy, the lowest of the ranks of the noble class.

This time, it would be far more than a baronet of Nova Scotia. Far more. Lord Lauder had a very nice ring to it, he decided. And taking the head of Jenny Geddes was one step along that road.

The king would be pleased.

He rubbed his hands together, placed them on his skinny hips, and called to his servants for lunch.

****

Jenny was not a happy person, nor was her seven-year-old daughter who stood in front of her. The girl, Dolina, was on the verge of tears, and was holding her butt where it had just been swatted.

"I told ye you couldn't go outside. It's not safe for us here. I been worried sick about ye. Where ye been, girl? Tell me now."

Dolina's lip quivered. "Just playing, Mum."

"And where is your sis, Elspeth? She's supposed t'be watching ye."

"Elspeth's playing too, Mum."

"Where is she, then?"

"In the alley, Mum. Couple houses over."

"Sit down there, and stay. Do you understand me, lassie? So help me, I'll tan your hide if ye do this again."

"Yes, Mum." The lower lip continued to quiver.

Jenny went to the front door, and opened it a crack. Otto had been explicit in his instructions. Do not go outside, not for anything. Stay away from the windows. She had fallen asleep for just a moment and Elspeth, who was ten and should have known better, slipped away. Jenny was going to tan her hide when she got her back. She peered out the slightly open door, and looked up and down the street. There was nobody in sight. The street was a small one, no more than a dead-end alleyway, with three-story town houses on either side of the narrow way. The homes were run down and gritty looking, and the street was filthy with garbage, both human and otherwise. The strong odor of it struck her nose. She crept out and quietly closed the door behind her.

Jenny knew that Otto would be back soon, and she wanted to get Elspeth back into the safe house before he returned. Otto had gone to the market to buy something so she could prepare the evening meal. She glanced up and down the deserted street again. Nobody seemed to be out, so she headed down the street toward the end. From there she could see a small gangway between two houses and could hear children's voices from behind the house. She walked quickly and quietly down the alleyway, and stopped before she rounded the corner behind the dwelling. The area was a typical hodge-podge of crumbling and propped-up buildings. Behind two of the buildings, there was a junk-strewn open area. Something was probably there years ago, but she guessed that it had burned down.

She listened at the end of the alleyway, until she could hear Elspeth's voice. She glanced behind her once again, and seeing nobody, she peered around the corner. She could see the girls playing on a trash pile, using sticks for dolls and burned wood for their doll cribs. There were three girls, along with Elspeth, all of then between ten and twelve years old, she figured. She could see no one else in the alley. She stepped out and called quietly to her daughter.

"Elspeth. Elspeth. Oy, girl. Come here."

Elspeth looked up and saw her mother. Jenny could see the emotions flowing across her face. She could tell that the first thought was momentary confusion. The second was the realization of where she was, third the realization that she was in trouble, and the fourth thought, Jenny saw, was her daughter looking for her little sister, who was nowhere in sight. Elspeth turned and looked at her mother with panic in her eyes. Jenny stepped further around the corner and waved to the girl to come to her.

She saw Elspeth glance at her new friends, then back at her mother. Elspeth said goodbye and hustled toward her. As she ran up, she began with the excuses. "Mum, I am sorry, I lost track of Dolina. She can't have gone far, Mum. She was right here a second ago, and when you was sleeping, I thought that it would be all right to go out and play. I heard the girls outside and—"

All of this came out in a rush of apology, fear, anxiety, and the terrible understanding that she had made a big mistake. She braced for a slap. Instead, Jenny shushed her. "It's all right, Elspeth. Be quiet. Now."

Jenny looked around the back alley to see if there was anyone there except for the other children. She saw nobody else. She sighed with relief. She knelt in front of her older daughter, and looked at her face. It was flushed with embarrassment. She whispered to her. "Lassie, did ye tell anyone your name?"

Elspeth looked at her mother with fear. "Umm. Sort of. I told them I was Elspeth, and that I usually live outside the walls, and that we were staying down the street. I didn't see the harm in it, Mum, they are just kids like me." As the girl finished the sentence, her eyes went beyond her mother and focused on someone else. Her eyes then flicked back to her mother, and she swallowed. Jenny tensed at her daughter's reaction. Someone was coming up behind her. She quickly stood up, turned around, and pushed her daughter behind her, facing whoever was coming down the alleyway.

They were two large men, who were dressed as if they were stonemasons, dirty and dusty from a day at work. She tried to control her fear, but her face must have given her away. She watched as they became suspicious, reacting to her fear. The two men looked at each other, and then turned back to her. The older one spoke.

"Who might you be?"

"We are just a visiting, down the street a bit." Jenny smiled at them, hoping to charm the burly stonemasons.

The younger man called to the other girls in the alleyway. "Alice, Mary. Get ye home, and be quick about it. Now!" The girls ran off, looking back at Elspeth as they went by. One of them waved. The younger man took a half-hearted and somewhat playful kick at the last one, and landed it on her rump. Jenny and Elspeth both smiled at him, and he smiled back. The younger one took a step forward, as if to introduce himself. The older man held him back.

"Just a moment, Andrew. I asked this lady a question, and she hasn't answered me yet."

Andrew looked confused, and turned to the older man. "Da, she is just a new lass from down the street. We're not the papist inquisition, fer heaven's sake." He turned to Jenny and smiled. "My name is Andrew, and this is me da, Bill. We live up there on the third floor, and my sister's kids and my daughter live below. Nice to meet you."

Jenny was still holding Elspeth behind her. She smiled and curtsied. "'Tis nice to meet you, Andrew. You too, Bill." She grabbed Elspeth's hand. "I am afraid it's time for us to be heading back home—"

"Not so fast. What did ye say your name was?"

Andrew once again looked at his father in surprise. "Da—"

"Quiet, boy. I am asking a question. Now what did ye say your name was, lass?"

"I don't believe that I have said it, kind sir. Now if you will excuse me, we need to be getting home . . ." Jenny grabbed her daughter by the hand and tried to work her way past the men in the narrow passage. The older man put his arm out against the wall and blocked her way.

"Da—"

"Quiet, boy!" he bellowed. Andrew backed away, and Jenny flinched at the power in his voice. "Your sister said there was two girls playing out here with the kiddies. And now here is the mum. Think, boy. What was every one talking about at work today?"

Andrew looked perplexed. "I dunno, Da. What was it?"

"If I said, 'reward money,' would that ring a bell?"

"Oy. D'ye think this is her?" Andrew asked.

Jenny couldn't help the stammer. She was never very good at lying. "Oh, I'm not that woman, the one they are after. Oh, no. That be someone else. My name is Mary. Yes. Mary, that's it. Mary Dunne. So we will be getting along now, kind sirs . . ."

Bill looked at Elspeth. He took a small step and loomed over her. "What be your name, now, lassie?" Jenny felt her daughter's hand tighten in hers.

"I . . . It is . . . Els- I mean, Mary. It be Mary, too, sir." Jenny squeezed her hand back.

Bill unexpectedly reached out with his calloused hand and clamped onto Jenny's wrist. She winced in pain. Andrew stepped back again, away from his father. "Da, do you think this is her?"

Bill looked at his son, and then back at Jenny. He held her arm up. "She not be crying out now, is she, boy? I would think if she wanted to be rescued, she would cry out now, don't ye?"

Andrew smiled. "Where are we supposed to take her for the reward? Lord, Da. The reward. We'll be rich!"

"Aye, boy." Bill turned around and started. Otto Artman was calmly standing in the narrow alleyway, arms folded, leaning against the wall.

Otto's voice was quiet and even, and with his German accent, it sounded all the more menacing. "This lady is under the protection of the Committee of Correspondence for Edinburgh. Nobody is going to turn anyone in for reward. Let her be." He smiled. "Please."

Jenny could see Bill and his son exchange a glance, measuring up the man in front of them. He was armed with a sword; they had no weapons. But together they were three times his size.

Bill smiled at Otto. "Four years of work is what it might take me, if I was lucky, to make that reward money. Neither you or your committee scare me." With no more than a flick of his wrist, he pushed Jenny aside and back down the alley. She heard Otto's blade come out of its scabbard.

She yelled. "No! Otto, don't hurt them." The two stonemasons stopped and glanced at her in surprise. When they turned back to Otto, they were looking at his blade held level at their throats. He was faster than they ever thought possible. Jenny, too, blinked at the speed. She knew he was a soldier at one time, that was obvious, but she had no idea. . . .

Otto looked at them grimly. "It is not the policy of the Committee to cut men down like dogs in the street. Someday, maybe, but not now. Not today."

"Otto, they have children and live in this building," Jenny said.

Otto looked at her and smiled faintly. He stepped back very slightly and addressed the father and son. "If you were to collect any reward, you would not live to profit from it." He stepped forward, and pushed his blade closer to their necks, one at a time. "Do you understand what that means?"

Andrew and Bill looked at each other. Andrew quickly shook his head at Bill, and Bill nodded back. They turned to Otto. "Aye, sir."

Otto took a step back. "The CoC takes care of their own, gentlemen. There are more besides me who would make sure there would be no profit in it."

Andrew and Bill nodded again. "Aye, sir."

Otto motioned Jenny to move behind him. He smiled broadly at the two stonemasons, stepped back again, and sheathed his blade. "I invite you to stop by the CoC building. We are just off the Mile, up from St. Giles High Kirk. We can always use help, especially when the help is the size of you two. There is much you could do." His smile went wider, and he bowed slightly.

As Jenny looked back over her shoulder, she saw the two men still standing in the alleyway. She waved at them, and after a moment's hesitation, they waved back. And smiled.

****

"Otto, ye haven't told me where we are goin?"

"We are almost there, Jenny."

"These new shoes hurt my feet. And I feel like some sort of a fancy bird in these clothes."

"Almost there."

"'Ave you ever tried walking in new shoes the first time? It's murder till they get broke in. There was a man I knew that all he did was walk around in rich people's new shoes so they would be broken in when they wore them for the first time. He was a cousin to the shoemaker over in Harper Lane. I used to think, 'that would be a life, why he's got it made, he does.' But hiking over the cobblestones and the shite in the street in new shoes is not the easiest job in the world."

Otto smiled at her with that strange smile of his. He spoke quietly so nobody in the street could overhear him. "Jenny Geddes, you are the only woman I ever met who would complain about new clothes and shoes."

She leaned toward him to whisper. "I ain't complaining about the clothes and the shoes. Not at all. I'm complaining about having to walk across the whole of Edinburgh city in new shoes. That's all."

When he first gave the shoes and dress to her, she was confused by what she thought was a gift, and an expensive one at that. He explained to her that it was a disguise.

She was still not sure what to make of this taciturn German. Jenny had spent most of her life being practical. Nothing more. Her mind put any other thoughts completely away. "One thing is for certain. Nobody will recognize me in this, even if I was behind me own cart in the market."

"Aye, Jenny. You do clean up rather well."

She laughed and turned to look at her daughters, who were following. They too, had been given "new" used clothes by Otto. Both girls were dressed in something nicer than they had ever hoped to wear in their lives. She looked at the happy expressions on their faces and felt guilty. Guilty that she could never have provided for them in this way. As a greengrocer and a widow, she lived precariously. It was not that much different an existence than most of the city, granted. But as a mother, she had always hoped for something better for her children.

While they continued to walk, she went over the last few days in her mind. Chased by soldiers, finding Otto and the Committee of Correspondence, nearly being caught for the reward money, and the tedium of hiding in the house for several days. And now, here she was, dressed in finery as a disguise, hiking across town to places unknown. She shook her head. Strange times indeed. Her practical mind told her that she shouldn't get used to the finery, because that was going to change. She didn't know when or how. But she knew it was true. She sighed and trudged on.

"Here we are."

She looked up and felt her jaw drop in amazement. "Is this the house where we be going?"

"Yes."

"By the front door, not the back door?"

"Yes."

"Oy. You're sure?"

He mounted the three steps to the heavy oaken front door and knocked. "Quite sure."

There had been no change of neighborhood to get to where the rich people lived. Edinburgh was so crammed together that everyone lived on top of one another. The members of the privy council, judges, lawyers and clerks lived alongside tenements and the shops of candle makers and smiths. The door opened, revealing a large man dressed as a servant. Jenny knew just by looking at the fellow that this was not your typical servant. He looked like he should be on a battlefield, not an Edinburgh townhouse, and a new house at that.

The large servant spoke. "Hello, Otto."

"Thomas. Good to see you again. I believe we have an appointment with Robert and his visitors?"

"Please come in; be seated in the library. I will let them know that you are here. Right this way." He led them down a hall and into a large room. There were more books there than Jenny had ever seen in her life. She was good with figures. She counted at a glance maybe twenty-five bound books, along with another dozen or so unbound ones. She turned to the children. "If either of you touch anything, I will swat your arses all the way back across town. Do ye hear me?"

Elspeth looked as overwhelmed as Jenny felt. She nodded. "Yes, Mum." She nudged her sister who was looking at a cabinet of curiosities standing in the corner. The cabinet had one of the most interesting dolls they had ever seen, with silky blonde hair, and fancy clothes, and funny pointed shoes with a tall thin heel.

"Don't touch a thing," Jenny reminded them. She turned to Otto. "Will you now tell me where we are? And how do you know these people?"

"Jenny, you are impatient sometimes, do you know that?"

"Aye, I can be. And you can be frustrating at times."

"I know these people from Thüringia, in Germany. That's where I met them."

"These don't look like the type of people that the Committees are interested in, Otto." She glanced over at the girls, who were staring into the cabinet. She reminded them in a stage whisper, "All the way across town, that's how far I will be tanning your little hides. No touching! Do ye hear me?"

"Yes, Mum." The girls tore their eyes off the strange doll, and put their hands in front of them.

"That's more like it."

The door opened and in walked a short man with red hair and whiskers. He was smiling through curiously good teeth. Otto recognized him instantly. "Alex! Good to see you. You are looking well."

The two men embraced briefly, and Alex turned his attention to Jenny. "So this is the famous Jenny Geddes, eh?"

Jenny could feel herself blushing. "Umm. Aye, sir, I am Jenny Geddes. I don't know about the famous part. Sir."

The man in front of her got a twinkle in his eye, and she found him instantly likeable. "Ah, but I do. Please sit down."

Otto spoke first. "How is the 'baroness,' Alex?" They laughed together. Jenny felt bewildered by the reference.

"Aye, she is fine. She is putting the baby down to nap, and will be here shortly."

Jenny leaned forward to catch Otto's eye. She raised her eyebrows, and said "A baroness?" very quietly, almost mouthing the words.

Otto smiled at her, and back at Alex. "Suppose you tell Jenny here how your wife was elevated to the Swedish nobility."

"Well, it's a long story, but basically it was due to her valor in combat." Alex smiled. Jenny decided it was an honest smile. She believed he was telling her the truth. She just didn't believe what she was hearing. The surprise must have shown on her face.

"Jenny," Otto said, "you really need to close your mouth. You look like a codfish."

She snapped her mouth shut. And immediately opened it again. "Oy! In b-battle?"

"Aye. My wife, Julie. But she didn't do nearly what you did, all on one Sunday morning."

Jenny got a little defensive. "I am at the kirk every Sunday morning. I get there early and save a place for the Dunnes, usually right in the front. I save them spots, and then I sit down on me stool, and listen to the preacher. So there's nothing I could have done in a battle or anything else on a Sunday morning. And when did I do this thing? Is that why the soldiers are after me? I swear, it never happened, whatever it was. You got the wrong woman."

Otto said, "It is not what you did, but what you will do. Or at least would have done." He looked at Alex. "Our language needs a new tense for this. A 'future that may not happen' tense. It's not past tense, it's not future tense, so perhaps we should call it 'maybe' tense. It would make this so much easier."

Jenny cut him off. "I have no idea what you are talking about. Otto, if this is some kind of joke, then I—"

"Wait a moment, Jenny." Otto paused. "I brought you here because you are so practical, and so hard-headed, there was no way you would believe me if I just told you. So I have to show you."

"Show me what?" This had been a difficult week for Jenny, and she decided she ...