Nasi chuckled. "Especially in Amsterdam, whose rabbis are notoriously rigid."
" 'Reactionary scoundrels,' is the phrase Becky herself uses to describe them." Mike shrugged. "She doesn't care at all what they think. Still, most Jews in the city are religiously very conservative, if not always politically, and she doesn't see any point in needlessly irritating them. So, although she's not maintaining the forty days of seclusion, she's not flaunting the fact either. Come by our place tonight, after dark."
Nasi nodded. Mike cocked his head quizzically.
"What do you need to talk to her about? If it's something personal, of course, you can ignore the question."
"No, it's political," said Ed. "And you should be part of the discussion anyway. The problem is with Becky's seat in the SoTF Congress. She's been gone for a long time, Mike. Is she planning to come back to Grantville? If so, we'll figure on running her again as the candidate of the Fourth of July Party. But, if she's not coming back-or not coming back soon-we really need to run somebody else. We just can't keep that seat held for somebody in absentia."
Mike scratched his jaw. "Yeah, I understand. Becky and I have talked about it, but-what with this and that and this and that-"
"It's been a hectic few months," Ed said, chuckling.
"-we never came to any conclusions. And, yes, I can see where it'd be a problem for the party in Thuringia."
"We'll be by tonight, then. In the meantime…" Ed winced. "I suppose we may as well go see Gretchen."
Mike frowned. "What's the problem? She's not hard to talk to-at least, if you can pry yourself through the small mob of CoCers who are usually surrounding her." He glanced at his watch. "And, this time of day, that's where you'll usually find her. At the CoC headquarters downtown."
"Well… this is a personal matter. Henry Dreeson asked us to talk to her while we were here. He's wondering-and he's getting pretty damn dyspeptic about it-when Gretchen's planning to come home and start taking care of that mob of kids of hers. She's been gone just as long as Becky, you know."
"Oh." Now, Mike made a face. "Yeah. Good luck. The old saw comes to mind. 'Better you than me.' "
That made his grin re-appear.
"That's really a pretty disgusting grin," Ed observed.
In the event, though, Gretchen wasn't belligerent. In fact, she looked downright shame-faced when Ed finished passing on the message from Henry.
"Well, yes, I know. But… we've been very busy…" She made a fluttery sort of gesture, very out of character for Gretchen. "The struggle against reaction…"
Ed just waited. Under the circumstances, that seemed the wisest course.
Eventually, Gretchen stopped muttering and mumbling about the needs of the struggle and started muttering and mumbling noises on the subject of returning to Grantville. After a couple of minutes or so, Ed decided he could excavate enough of those vague phrases to mollify Henry.
For a while, anyway. But, by then, all sorts of things might happen. The newly-arrived cousin might turn into the reincarnation of Mary Poppins or… Whazzername, the great governess played by Julie Andrews in The Sound of Music. The one who wound up marrying von Trump. Von Trapp?
Or, horses might learn to sing. Or, Gretchen might actually tear herself away from the struggle against reaction and the forces of darkness long enough to come home to Grantville and do something with that gaggle of kids.
Who was to say? All Ed had agreed to do was pass on the message. Which, he'd done.
"I'll tell Henry," he said stoutly.
Rebecca seemed a bit shame-faced herself, that night, after Ed raised the problem of her seat in the SoTF Congress.
"Yes, I understand. You may tell our people back in Grantville that I think it would be best if I simply resigned from the seat." She glanced at her husband. "Michael and I… well, we do not wish to be parted again. And he must remain in Magdeburg. Even if he loses the election, as we expect, he will have to lead the opposition."
She looked back at Ed. "So, we have decided. I will go to Magdeburg also. And if my father is willing, we will ask him to move in with us."
Ed nodded. He didn't ask about Mike's mother, since he knew full well she'd be quite unwilling to leave Grantville even if she wasn't an invalid. But that wouldn't be a major problem, he didn't think, with all the support she had in the town.
And it was none of his business anyway. The political issue had been resolved. "All right," he said. "You might consider becoming active politically in Magdeburg."
Mike and Rebecca both smiled. "As it happens," Mike said, "Gunther Achterhof has been pestering us for weeks now to agree to let Becky run for the House of Commons from one of Magdeburg's districts."
Ed's eyes widened. "The USE parliament?"
"Yup."
"But…"
"Exactly what I said!" exclaimed Rebecca. Her hands fluttered much the way Gretchen's had earlier than day. "I've never lived in the city-anywhere in the province. Only even visited just a few times. I could just manage to move there in time for the election. The idea seems absurd."
Mike, on the other hand, was looking smug again. "Who cares? Gunther sure doesn't-and he says nobody else will either. If we run Becky, he says she'll win in a landslide."
Nasi cleared his throat. "I have to say, I agree with Achterhof. Magdeburg province is even more-ah, I will say 'July-Fourthish' rather than 'radical,' just to avoid haggling-than the State of Thuringia-Franconia." His eyes got a little unfocused. "I'm quite familiar with the subject, you know. I estimate she'd get at least two-thirds of the vote, in any district in the province. If she ran in the city itself, she'd almost certainly go unopposed. The Crown Loyalists have given up there, for all practical purposes."
"I'll be damned," said Ed. He realized, not for the first time, that because he'd always remained in Grantville since the Ring of Fire that he had a tendency to underestimate the impact that the time-transplanted Americans were having on the seventeenth century. In some places, at any rate.
"Anything else?" asked Mike.
"No. Unless you'd like to hear the latest Grantville gossip."
"Oh, horrors," said Becky, leaning forward. "But start with something pleasant."
"Pleasant, it is-at least, if you enjoy the exploits of rambunctious girls. You know Denise Beasley, don't you?"
"Such a sprightly lass," said Becky. "What did she do now?"
On the Reichsstrasse between Arnstadt and Erfurt
Wackernagel was doing explanations at the front of the first ATV. Cunz Kastenmayer was doing explanations at the back of the rear ATV. The drivers were standing by the doors, pointing at first one thing and then another. The soldiers, who were standing around, trying to look casual, were surrounded by a lot of boys and a few girls who had already had their turn in the vehicles but wanted to know more about how they worked.
Henry Dreeson was on a bench, leaning back against a tree, enjoying the shade and letting them have at it.
There hadn't been this much excitement when they stopped in Badenburg, even though they'd done a press conference. The people in Badenburg saw various kinds of motorized this-and-that almost every day. Beyond there, though, even on the way up to Arnstadt, the first day out, this had happened every time Wackernagel called a stop. Which he did at about every good-sized village.
Henry didn't mind admitting that he appreciated the frequent stops. Not just because his hip ached, even though it did. The prostate gland wasn't what it used to be, either. Who used to sing that song? Rosemary Clooney. "This ole house…"
He hummed a couple of lines. That must have been fifty years ago, give or take a couple. Right about the time he and Annie got married. Before he understood in his bones what it was about.
Over by the ATVs a boy, ten years old maybe, blew the horn and let out a whoop of delight.
Henry had been surprised at how much interest there was in his tour. Wackernagel said that if he was doing a good-will tour, he might as well do it right from the start and all the way over. People in the villages, both between Badenburg and Erfurt and on the Imperial Road from Erfurt to Fulda, had all seen up-time vehicles going back and forth before. Lots of times. They had not, very often, seen one of them stopped, where they could take a closer look, with a driver who was willing to explain how things worked. Much less passengers who were willing to vacate the premises and let them climb in and out, let the boys put their hands on the steering wheel and go vroom for a while, or anything else of the sort.