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Mrs. December, 1636

Written by Chet Gottfried

Justus Corneliszoon van Liede's smile was all teeth. Big teeth. Broad teeth. Dazzling teeth. Many men would have wanted to punch in his teeth at first sight. Many women would have been tempted to do the same. Flo Richards was different.

"Have another piece of cake, Herr van Liede." She daydreamed about the cavities that the rich white icing could cause in those brilliant teeth of his.

The Dutch cavalier accepted the cake with a flourish that went well with his flamboyant clothing, from satin doublet to orange breeches and tall red boots.

"Thank you, dear lady. My ride from Amsterdam was well worth the opportunity to enjoy your most wonderful cake."

Flo watched Justus's goatee move back and forth like a metronome as he chewed.

"How long did it take to travel from Amsterdam to Grantville?"

Justus smiled. "Not long at all. A few weeks, dear lady."

Flo didn't trust the smile. "Call me Flo."

"Of course, Flo, dear lady. And you may call me Justus Corneliszoon."

She sighed. Justus was the most difficult person she had ever met. He combined seventeenth-century courtier with twentieth-century used car salesman.

"I'm flattered by the letter you sent: your invitation. I'm impressed by your mastery of written English." Flo paused a moment. She wasn't at all sure whether she wanted to tackle traveling anywhere except maybe Jena. It wasn't like you could just hop in the car and travel a hundred miles in a couple of hours.

"Thank you."

"But a few weeks in each direction means that you expect me to be away from my farm for over a month. In autumn. That's harvest time, and I'm pretty busy."

Justus swung his arms wide and his smile grew wider. "But think of the honor, dear lady Flo. To have your portrait painted by Pieter Paul Rubens is a privilege you can tell your children and grandchildren."

"There's a war going on."

"What war? There isn't any war, not in that direction. That was settled last year."

"There are thieves and looters on all the roads."

"You shall have a dedicated escort. I have already arranged to have good men accompany you."

Flo was beginning to feel desperate. "I've never been away from J.D. for over a month."

"You mean your husband? Yes, I know about J.D., and we expect him as well. Dear lady Flo, you and J.D. will love seeing Amsterdam. It is particularly beautiful in the autumn." He smiled.

"Well, maybe." Flo tried to recall the last time that she and J.D. went traveling. They hadn't been anywhere since the Ring of Fire. Before that, all she could recall was their second honeymoon to New Orleans. And that was that. "I'll have to talk it over with J.D. first."

"Of course. I would expect nothing less." Then Justus cleared his throat. "Pieter Paul Rubens made a special request in regard to you."

Flo was on her guard. "Yes?"

"He has a certain technique in regard to his portraits of women."

"I am not—most definitely not—going to pose naked for him. I don't care how many portraits he's done or how many women he's painted. I am not appearing naked for him!"

"No, no, dear lady Flo. Whether you are dressed or undressed is your own decision. Rubens' request is different: He wants to include a few symbols of yourself in the painting, such as your love of coffee. You would bring a pot in which you brew your coffee, as well as a few cups."

Flo settled. "That's okay."

"And he would like you to bring your wonderful ram Brillo."

****

When J.D. came home later that day, Flo cornered him and took him into their bedroom.

J.D. began undressing. "A little early in the day for this, isn't it?"

"Keep your pants on, J.D. It's not what you think. Have you been drinking?"

J.D. hiccuped. "Gerhart opened a new pub in town. Calls it the Hole in the Wall. It's a small place but quiet. He's studied a variety of cookbooks from the library and is going to serve light meals. But you don't want to try his pizza. He uses Swiss cheese. Some of the other dishes aren't bad, I have to admit. Gerhart is trying hard enough, and right now he's in the middle of decorating. Today, we were sampling some of his brews."

"Smells like you've downed a keg."

He sat on the bed. "Real ale. You used to pay extra for it, but here, it's all they have. No fizz, but it packs quite a punch. I wonder what the alcohol content is?"

"Whatever it is, it's too high. Now listen, J.D. Are you ready?"

"I'm ready."

"I have a surprise for you. What are you doing?"

J.D. had stretched out on the bed. "I can take surprises better while lying down, dear."

"You'd only fall asleep. Okay. How would you like to take a trip together?"

"Like to Amsterdam?"

Flo became suspicious. "What made you say 'Amsterdam'?"

"It seems as good a place as any. Besides, wouldn't it be good to get away?"

"Who told you about Amsterdam?"

J.D. grinned. "Gerhart, me, and a bunch of us were talking about how good a painting would look over the bar. You know, a naked woman. Every pub should have one. Something by Rubens, since Varga hasn't been born yet. I hear tell that he's pretty good for that sort of thing. So we were talking about who in Grantville would look best naked and who would be most willing to go to Amsterdam. Opinions were hot! It could have become an out-and-out fight, but in the end we made paper ballots and had a vote. Guess who won?"

He patted the bed, and Flo, blushing lightly, sat next to him.

"J.D., you're not telling me that your buddies would prefer me to one of the young lovelies we have in town?"

Hugging Flo, J.D. gave her a kiss. "You'd be surprised the reputation you have. For starters, maybe you should remember to button your blouse more often."

Flo rolled her eyes. "And here I used to wonder what you geezers talked about." Then she looked at him suspiciously. "Just a minute. Would one of your drinking companions be a piece of fluff known as Justus Corneliszoon van Liede?"

J.D. smirked. "Do you mean Corny? He's a right good fella and a fine drinking companion."

"Corny? Not Justus Corneliszoon?"

"It might have been something like that for the first glass or two. Then he let his hair down. He could certainly talk up a streak. And he has to have the brightest teeth in the world. It's like staring at a laser. Funny though. Gerhart wanted to punch Corny's teeth in. For no reason whatsoever. Well, before Gerhart could do anything, out jumps Corny's sword, and four cuts later, Gerhart's shirt is in shreds. Then they were friends, slapping each other's back and laughing. I guess Gerhart was happy to be alive, and Corny is willing to be friends with anyone. Good thing too. A guy that good with a sword has to be someone to have on your side."

"And he told you all about our going to Amsterdam?"

J.D. gave her a hug. "Why not? We've been working around the clock, helping the town settle in, helping the Germans settle in, helping our kids settle in. So why don't we take a vacation?"

"What about Ed Piazza?" Flo asked. "We'll be gone six weeks or more. Can he spare you that long?"

"He'd better. I haven't had a day off since the Ring of Fire, so I'm due. Don't forget Mike Stearns is a long-standing union man. Try talking to the unions about no one having time off anymore, and then you'll see explosions that'll make the Thirty Years' War look like a kid's game."

"Now, J.D. It's a good job. I don't want you to get into any departmental fights and jeopardize everything for the sake of a picture."

"I was going to resign anyway, babe. I don't want to move away from the girls. So I talked to Ed and then talked to the tech school. I'll be back teaching as soon as we return." J.D. grinned. "We're going, and we'll be having fun! And I'd like to get my hands on as many bulbs as I can. Tulips will help brighten our place, and we can sell them too. Not to mention it will be great to have a calendar."

Flo pointed to the calendar hanging on the wall. "What's that, J.D.? We already have calendars."

"But not a Rubens' calendar. Didn't Corny tell you? Sure, part of it is to go to have your portrait painted. But Corny is putting together a calendar of Grantville notables—as painted by Rubens."

"Grantville notables, huh? I suppose that's why he wants Brillo along. Do you think it's going to be easy to get that ram to Amsterdam? He's almost as stubborn as you are."

"Why shouldn't Brillo come along? He can walk part of the way, and Corny said that he was hiring an up-time wagon, should Brillo be his rambunctious self and prefer to ride. Rubens included Anne Jefferson's pom-poms and baton in her painting, so why shouldn't you have Brillo in yours? Not every ram has inspired a rebellion. And a Rubens calendar would be a collector's item. Did you know that Rubens has a whole flock of artists and printmakers working for him? They've been into prints for years, but this will be their first calendar. I wonder whether it is going to be Gregorian or Julian. I hope Gregorian, but you never know. Down-timers never cease to amaze me."

J.D. was going a little too fast for Flo. "I'm going to be in a calendar?"

"Sure, Flo. How does it feel to be Mrs. December, 1636?"

"Get one fact straight, mister. I'm not posing in the nude for anyone. Look at me! I'm a grandma! Who's ever heard of fifty-somethings posing naked?"

J.D. agreed. "Absolutely not. It's totally out of the question."

Flo got off the bed and looked into the mirror. "Totally out of the question? Are you trying to tell me something, J.D.?" She turned right and left and critically inspected herself. "I still have a pretty good figure. Or do you think I'm too heavy?"

"Rubens likes well-rounded women, dear. And so do I. I'm sure you'd look great however you posed. One thing's for certain. The boys would really love to have you naked—over the bar." J.D. grinned.

For a moment Flo was lost in her thoughts. Then she snapped out of it. "Come on. Let's get Johan, Anna, and the rest for a decent dinner. Lord knows what we'll be eating on the road." Naked, she thought. And snorted to herself: That will be the day!

****

A week later, a procession headed into Flo's yard: a handsomely painted wagon drawn by two horses, with two saddled horses tied to the rear of the wagon. Justus rode a high-stepping black gelding in front.

Flo, J.D., their three daughters, and their partners in running the farm, Johan, Anna, Wilhelm, and Ilsa, soon surrounded the wagon. Justus casually dismounted while giving a nonstop description of all the wonders of his preparation for the vacation to Amsterdam, not least of all the wagon, rented from an up-timer. It had a seat in the front for two drivers, and the wagon had benches on either side that could be dropped down. "Very convenient for sleeping, should you stop between cities or inns." The wagon also had bales of hay for the horses and Brillo.

"And allow me to introduce you to your noble escort. I present my brothers Frederik van Liede and Johan van Liede. They are brave men, wonderful shots, excellent drivers, and will see you through every obstacle anyone could encounter."

The two brothers slouched on the front seat. For each aspect of Justus that said dandy, the two brothers screamed despair. Where Justus had finely groomed hair, wisps of yellow stuck out in random directions from their heads. From his brothers' lifeless clothing to drooping expressions, they looked as if they had been dragged through every puddle from Amsterdam to Grantville.

Flo was shocked. "My God! Whatever happened to them?"

"Ah ha!" Justus declared. "You have noticed! All has not been well with my brothers. They were aboard the good ship Brederode in the battle along the English Channel, for which the English changed sides and attacked the Dutch fleet. The Brederode exploded, killing the entire crew except my brothers, who were thrown into the sea. They were fished up by the Spanish, and I, Justus Corneliszoon van Liede, had to pay ransom to release them. So, dear lady Flo, my brothers are in my debt. And until such day as they can repay it, they are in my service. It should only be another five years before they are free to return to the sea. And perhaps by then, the Netherlands will have another fleet, so that my brothers can be sailors again."

Flo asked, "What do sailors know about horses and roads?"

"My dear lady Flo, my brothers were farmers and often traveled these routes until several years ago. They would probably be farmers today if their joint farm hadn't burned to the ground. A pity we didn't know about lightning rods back then. Then they took to the sea. Or rather they were drunk and were taken to the sea. No matter, aboard the Brederode, they became crack shots, and between them killed twelve Spaniards before their ship went boom."

J.D. scratched his head. "Farmers? Sailors? They look more like flotsam and jetsam to me." The nicknames stuck, and thereafter everyone, including Justus, referred to the younger van Liede brothers as Flotsam and Jetsam.

Flo's one consolation was that however bedraggled Flotsam and Jetsam appeared, Justus knew his way around and was an expert swordsman. So her heart sank when she saw Justus mounting his horse.

"I've put together a farewell party with all types of meat, soup, and bread for us."

Justus took off his broad-brimmed hat and waved it with a flourish. "No, no, dear lady Flo. Business attends. I must ride on ahead, for there are other contracts to arrange. I leave you in the capable hands of my brothers. They won't let you down, for they know what will happen if they do. Farewell!" And he galloped away.

While watching Justus disappear, Flo had a brainstorm. She asked Flotsam and Jetsam, "Do either of you speak English?"

Flotsam looked at Jetsam, and Jetsam looked at Flotsam. After a minute of mute consultation, Flotsam shook his head.

"Nee."

"But you do understand English?"

After another consultation, they both slowly nodded, as if any suggestion of speed would cause a head to roll off.

"Ja."

Johan entered the conversation. "Konnen Sie deutsch?"

"Nee."

It soon came down to the fact that the only language between the two Dutch brothers was Dutch, whereas they appeared to understand most other languages—to some extent. Flo turned to J.D. "I've lost my appetite."

J.D. patted her on the shoulder. "Remember, Rubens likes plump women. You don't want to be losing any weight."

She punched him on the arm and marched into the house.

****

The following morning saw intense activity while everyone helped load the wagon—except Flotsam and Jetsam. They stood by and sadly watched the load increase and increase and increase. Food, clothing, blankets, dry wood, coal, coffee, soap, books, yarn, knitting needles, and sundry items were piled high into the wagon.

Each of Flo's three daughters managed to speak to Flo alone.

Kerry gave Flo a small package wrapped in brown paper. "You'll bless me for this."

Turning the parcel this way and that, Flo asked, "What is it?"

"A clean queen-sized sheet. You'll want to strip any bed in any inn and put this on. You won't believe the fleas."

Flo laughed. "I'm sure it won't be necessary."

Kerry asked, "Mom, are you going to pose in the nude?"

"What ever gave you that idea?"

"If you did, what would I tell my children? What would happen if they saw their grandmother naked?"

Flo had to bite her tongue not to say that the children would hardly be scarred for life if that happened. Instead, she said, "I'm sure you can find something better to worry about. It's not going to happen."

Later, Missy trapped Flo in the kitchen and handed her a box. "Ma, here's something you'll really need."

The box was about the same size as the parcel. "Let me guess. It's a sheet."

Missy was surprised. "Did you pack any? Even if you did, I'm sure you could use an extra."

In the bedroom, Amy cornered and stared intently at Flo. "Mom, you're not going to pose naked, are you?"

Overall, Flo was starting to get a bit insulted by that question. She freely admitted that she wasn't as thin as Anne Jefferson, but it wasn't like she was fat. And she certainly wasn't old. She laughed uneasily. "Good heavens, no, Amy. What ever gave you that idea?"

"It's what the whole town is talking about. Everywhere you go, people are saying that Rubens wants you naked." Amy gave her mother a heavy package in a small backpack. "You'll need this. It's a revolver and a handful of bullets."

"Are you telling me to shoot Rubens?"

"Don't be silly, Mom. It's for the road. You don't know who'll you meet. And if you want to protect your virtue when you're being painted, that's okay too."

Outside, J.D. was also receiving gifts from the men around the farm. His sons-in-law gave him a second shotgun in addition to J.D.'s own, muskets, and a variety of knives. Johan gave J.D. something particularly valuable: a large plastic tarp.

"Do you think we're going to have picnics?" J.D. asked.

"No. You will be in an open wagon and want some protection for when it rains."

"But the tarp's red," J.D. complained.

"So?"

"Do you have anything in green?"

Johan laughed and slapped J.D. on the back. "You need a vacation."

Meanwhile, both men and women found time to talk to Flotsam and Jetsam. Each person promised that should anything untoward happen to either Flo or J.D., the Dutch brothers would lose their hands, fingernails, private parts, eyes, or whatever piece of anatomy the speaker preferred. Tone and body language supplemented the brothers' limited German and English. With each additional speaker, the two brothers looked sadder, more forlorn, and more crumpled.

Early the next morning, Flotsam and Jetsam hitched the horses to the wagon and tied the saddle horses to the rear.

By nine o'clock, J.D. had a pleased look on his face. He had arranged all their belongings in the wagon. "I guess that's about it. We're ready to go, and I've used up every square inch of space. How's that for packing?"

Flo put her hands on her hips. "What about Brillo?"

J.D.'s face sunk almost as low as that of the Dutch brothers. "You get the ram. I'll begin rearranging."

Chuckling all the way to Brillo's pen, Flo never noticed the enormous grin on Johan's face as he followed her.

"Brillo's gone!" Flo gasped.

"Relax, Flo," Johan said. "I put him with the ewes for the night. I thought that might make him more manageable."

"Good idea."

The two of them found Brillo peacefully dozing among the ewes.

Johan laughed. "He's in heaven."

They pushed and prodded the sleepy ram all the way to the cart, in which J.D. had cleared a space for him.

"It's not much room," J.D. admitted, "but there's bound to be more space as time goes by."

Brillo blinked peacefully until J.D. and Johan swung him aboard. Then the ram was wide awake. His first baa was somewhat weak, but each succeeding baa gained in strength and terror.

Everyone pretended to ignore the cries while Flo and J.D. were kissed and hugged. She and J.D. got into the back with Brillo, and Flo stood up and gave her farewell speech.

"We'll go, we'll see, and we'll return."

Everyone applauded, Flotsam shook the reins and clucked at the horses, and the wagon rolled away to various cheers and ever-louder baas.

Flo closed her eyes. "However long this trip takes, it is going to be longer than I had imagined."

That was at the end of August.

****

Three weeks, four sweaters, five caps, and seven scarves later, they were still in Germany. Flo had calluses on her knitting fingers, J.D. was working on a beer belly, and Flotsam and Jetsam were more ragged than ever.

J.D. lifted a stein of beer. "It won't be long now."

Flo was working on another sweater for J.D. "You mean when we reach the border?"

"No, dear. When they serve dinner." He burped again.

They were sitting by a table in a small inn a few miles west of Osnabrück. It wasn't the most desirable inn, but the weather was stormy, and neither of them looked forward to another day of being stuck between inns and sleeping in the open at night while it was raining.

A fat man wearing torn clothes staggered over to them. He had a large knife stuck in his belt, a patch over an eye, greasy hair, and various scars. He was the innkeeper, and Flo didn't trust him.

A young woman followed the innkeeper. She was somewhat better dressed and was carrying a large tray with bowls.

The innkeeper spoke and understood English in terms of single words. "Dinner."

Flo groaned. "Stew?" She thought of chunks of indigestible meat sunk at the bottom of a bowl that had a scum of fat floating on the top.

The innkeeper smiled a terrible smile, exposing black teeth. "Mutton."

She gave a little shriek and thought: Brillo! Jumping up, Flo ran outside the inn and into its stable on the side. There she saw one of the van Liede brothers leaning against a stall. He had a musket lying across his thighs and was staring blankly in the distance. Next to him, Brillo was peacefully chewing his cud. A strange warmth descended over her, she was incredibly thankful, and she wanted to hug the two of them. Then she felt guilty that she didn't know whether it was Flotsam or Jetsam guarding her ram. The two might have been identical twins.

"Hello," she said somewhat shyly.

"Goedenavond."

"Excuse me, but are you Flotsam or Jetsam?"

"Jetsam."

The indignity of calling these two men after the debris of the ocean occurred to her, and Flo tried to apologize.

The corners of his mouth turned upward. It might have been a smile. " Nee, nee. Het Geeft niet." Then he thought about it some more. "Good name."

"Would you like to learn to speak English? It would help to pass the time on the road."

Jetsam nodded.

Where do I begin, she wondered. Flo pointed to her nose. "Nose." Jetsam repeated after her. After Flo ran through her face, she started on her body and worked down to her thighs.

Jetsam put his hand on her thigh and smiled in earnest. "Thigh!"

Flo recognized the look of the predatory male and hastily stood up. "I think we've had enough English for one night."

Going back inside the dark inn, she sat down by her table. "J.D., you won't believe what happened. J.D.?" As soon as her eyes acclimated to the numerous people milling around, she saw that the serving girl was sitting on J.D.'s lap. His right hand held a tankard and his left hand was inside her blouse.

Looking at her with bleary eyes, J.D. burped. "Strong ale."

Flo said pointedly, "I don't know about the ale, but maybe you should take it easy on the milk."

The girl removed J.D.'s hand, curtsied, and, laughing, left the table. J.D. said, "I think she'd like to come to Amsterdam with us."

"Really?" Her voice dripped sarcasm.

What began as a nod ended in a plummet, and J.D.'s head rested on the table. Flo finished her cold meal in silence.

****

Three days later, in the bedroom at another nameless inn on the nameless road, J.D. complained, "I don't know why you aren't talking to me. It happens. I was drunk. I thought she was you."

Flo stripped the bed and put one of the travel sheets over it. "She was taller than me, had blond hair, a squint in one eye, and warts. So how in all hell did she look like me?"

J.D. began undressing. "She had your boobs."

After putting a top sheet over the spread one, Flo critically inspected the blankets for lice and fleas. "Maybe you shouldn't have mentioned her boobs. Maybe I was ready to forget."

"Honestly, Flo. You've a great body. I can see why Rubens would want to paint you naked. I mean, you'd be the naked one. Rubens would have his clothes on. Well, he better have his clothes on."

Flo warmed to him. "You think so?"

Nodding vigorously, J.D. got under the covers. "Let me show you."

She got into bed next to him. "I don't know, J.D. You're the only man who's ever seen me naked—if you don't count doctors. I don't know if I could do it even if I wanted to do it. What's that hand doing? Hmm." And the time for conversation rapidly slipped away.

****

By the end of September they had almost reached the border between the Netherlands and Germany. The problem involved a fork in the road and one of those rare occasions when there was ...