Part 16 (1/2)

”He wants something to eat?” asked William.

”He wants a bribe,” I whispered. I decided to just ignore the suggestion, and hope the man wouldn't press the issue. ”Our papers are in order.”

The official didn't back down. ”The ink here is smudged, I am not sure these papers are genuine.”

It was just too much. ”We were just in a small boat for eight days. Of course the ink is a little smudged!”

”I will have to put you in quarantine.”

I bowed to the inevitable, and met his demand. Some pirates have no need for wars.h.i.+ps.

We dined that night with Lewes Roberts, one of the English merchants resident inGenoa . I let William tell him about our close encounter with the pirates.

Roberts didn't seem surprised. ”The corsairs aren't really under the sultan's control, anymore; the pasha inAlgiers does whatever he d.a.m.n pleases. The French only have ten galleys on patrol in the summer, and six or eight in the winter. As toEngland , we simply encourage our privateers to hara.s.s the Moors in turn.

Which, in my opinion, has made matters worse, not better.”

Roberts was avid for news from home, which we gave to him. Naturally, we asked him about the war inGermany .

”The Swedish king marches from victory to victory,” he told us. ”Aided now, I understand, by people from a strange place called Grantville.”

That was the very topic I was hoping he would bring up. ”Grantville?” says I, widening my eyes in feigned surprise.

”Supposedly it is a town of the far future, transported by G.o.d's will from someplace called 'West Virginia,' in theAmericas , intoThuringia in 1631.”

”Remarkable,” I said. ”Why would anyone believe such an absurd story? Next, they will speak of Prester John.” I had heard of Grantville already, from my friend Doctor William Harvey, the king's physician.Harvey had confirmed that Grantville existed, and that its residents were masters of the mechanical arts. Moreover, that they had knowledge of the future, through history books and not by witchcraft.

You understand that, as a youngster, William had only inherited his father's t.i.tle, not his property. I was employed by William's mother, Christian. She managed the Cavendish estates with a wise and firm hand.

Which they needed, William's father having been a spendthrift.

After I told her ofHarvey 's confidences-which he seemed, after the fact, to have regretted making-I had been instructed to go to Grantville and determine what those history books had to say about the Cavendish family, our country, and the countries in which the family had investments.

Perhaps you know this already, but the Cavendishes are one of the wealthiest families in the kingdom.

Thanks, in large part, to Christian's Scottish canniness. They own perhaps one hundred thousand acres, almost all of them in Derbys.h.i.+re. And they hold significant interests in many merchant ventures, including the East India Company and the Muscovy Company.

Christian directed me to conceal the family's interest in the time travelers. She thought it might be imprudent to show too particular an interest in Grantville. But it was customary for the sprigs of the English n.o.bility, some even younger than William, to tourFrance ,Italy and, if conditions permitted,Germany . So William was my excuse to be on the Continent.

Christian hadn't intended him to go on his grand tour until he was two years older. But he must needs go, that the devil drives.

Even William didn't know of our secret mission to Grantville. It was all in keeping with the Cavendish family motto:Cavendo tutus , ”safe by being cautious.” The motto, as I hope you noticed, is a play on the family name.

Anyway, Roberts had more to say about Grantville.

”TheWest Virginians are real, all right. Real enough to smash six Spanish tercios. Real enough for their townspeople to chew up several squadrons of Croat cavalry.” William looked fascinated. Typical teenage boy. His academy got the young gentlemen interested in art by having them sketch fortifications.

”I understand that Grantville is now the center of some sort of confederation. They control much of Thuringia andFranconia , under Swedish protection of course.”

”What has been the effect on trade? Are the Germanies safer now?” I meant safer for Protestants, of course.

”The trade throughMilan , over theSaint GotthardPa.s.s , has picked up.” This ancient trade route led throughLucerne andZurich , to theRhine .

”What about theBrenner Pa.s.s ?” That connected northeasternItaly to Tyrolia andBavaria .

”I couldn't say. You will have to ask about that inVenice .”

I decided it was time to steer the conversation away from the Germanies. I asked aboutVenice , and was told that the new doge, this past November, had proclaimedVenice free of contagion. Then we spoke about doings inRome , and so forth.

The next day, it was time to head on, to theport ofLeghorn , and, ultimately, toFlorence . There was no reason to linger inGenoa ; it does not have the antiquities ofRome , the natural wonders ofNaples , or the bustle ofVenice .

Florence December, 1632 When we were inParis , we visited Mersenne, the French mathematician, with whom William's Uncle Charles corresponded regularly. Mersenne, in turn, gave us a letter of introduction to Galileo. After checking into our hotel inFlorence , I sent Samuel and the precious letter on to Galileo's villa in Arcetri, with a request for an audience.

Uncle Charles had agreed with Christian that I should go toGermany by way ofFrance andItaly . ”You should visit Galileo at the earliest opportunity,” Charles told me. ”He is, what, sixty-eight, now? Who knows how much longer he will live? Or, for that matter, how long the Inquisition will permit him to receive foreign visitors.”

While we waited to hear from the great man, we toured the city, beginning with the cathedral of Santa Maria del Fiore. Upon arrival, we paid for the privilege of climbing to the cathedral's octagonal cupola, perched on the famous Duomo of Brunelleschi, the largest dome in the world.

We went back down, then strolled back toward our lodgings, stopping in whichever shops caught our fancy. Mostly bookstores, I must admit. Often, we heard English, asFlorence was a popular stop on the EnglishGiro d'Italia .

We were in a bookstore, browsing, when we heard the bookseller addressed in English. Naturally, we looked up. The new arrival held a journal of some kind in his hand.

”Yes, what may I show you?” said the eager storekeeper.

”What are the favorite herbs of the sheep of this country?” the Englishman read aloud. There was a silence.

”I am sorry, signore,” said the Florentine. ”I don't know the answer.”

This didn't faze his visitor. ”In your market, what are the values of whales of different sizes?”

”Signore, we are far from the sea. May I show you a book on whales and other marvelous fish?”

William leaned closer to me. ”Why is he asking these questions?”

It was then the custom for parents to insist that their children, touring the continent, keep detailed journals. William, indeed, had one. This fellow obviously had created a questionnaire for use in every city he visited.

The whale fancier didn't take the bookseller's hint that he should start looking at books. ”Are there many instances of people having been bitten by mad animals?”

The Italian smacked his forehead. ”Signore, I am so pleased that I can tell you where to find out the answer. Turn left as you leave my humble store. When you reach the fountain, turn right. Take your sixth left, and then go to the building which has a sign of a bleeding arm. The good doctor there is an expert on the subject in question. But you must hurry, because he will soon close his office for the day.”

They parted with many expressions of good wishes. Out went the earnest questioner, and the bookseller watched him walk off.

Turning back into the store, he caught sight of us, and looked at us quizzically. No doubt he wondered what particular Anglic madnesswe were afflicted with.

”Whales!” I gasped, and started laughing. The others quickly joined in.