The nights, however, were very dark, and very lonely. More than one night found her crying herself to sleep, muffling the sobs with her pillows. And more than one night found her facing her guilt in the darkest hours before dawn-guilt that she had not loved Fred like she should; guilt that she had chased another man, that she had been unfaithful. Yet in the cold light of dawn, she always knew that whatever her thoughts, when it came to the test she had been faithful to her vows. More so than Fred had been, she suspected.
The one constant theme in those days-the one thing that Elizabeth always remembered afterward besides the feeling of being possessed by ice-was that Carissimi was always near. Not hovering; not butting into meetings with the family or the consultations with the funeral home and the minister; not intruding or obtruding in any way. But always near.
Finally the day of the funeral arrived. The funeral home Cadillac arrived to take Elizabeth and the children to the church for the memorial service.
The service went as well anyone could desire for that kind of thing. It was a closed casket service. Jenny Maddox had suggested it, given the state of Fred's corpse on arrival at the funeral home in Grantville.
The music was beautiful. Orval McIntire did an excellent eulogy, and his recitation of the promises of eternal life and the resurrection were of some comfort. But the hole in Elizabeth's life was still there when he was done.
Daniel and Leah, one on each side of her, were her main concern at that moment; the one silent and still, the other gripping her mother's hand like an iron clamp and sniffling occasionally. At the end, they walked with her to the Cadillac for the ride to the cemetery.
The old-fashioned graveside service was brief. Orval said the final words with grace, and they lowered the casket into the ground. Elizabeth stood and picked up a handful of dirt from the mound at the side, and poured it into the hole.
"Goodbye, Fred," she said, tears trickling down her cheeks, almost like liquid ice.
Afterward, Elizabeth stood to one side with the kids in the cold wind, and accepted the final condolences of those who had come to the graveside service. As the last of them gave her a hug and turned away, she became aware of one last figure, standing well behind the canopy that had sheltered the attendees.
"Jenny," she said. Jenny Maddox stepped over from where she had been waiting by the grave. "Would you take the kids to the car, please? They're getting cold, and I need to talk to someone."
"Sure," Jenny said.
They almost had to peel Leah's fingers from Elizabeth's hand, but she finally let go upon the iron-clad promise that her mom wouldn't take very long. As Jenny led them to the waiting limousine, Elizabeth walked over to face Giacomo.
He spoke first, after an obvious hesitation. "I am sorry for your loss, Mrs. Jordan."
"Thank you, Mr. Carissimi," she replied in like kind.
"If there is anything I can do to help, please, let me know."
"Thank you for everything you have done."
They looked at each other in the cold, in the silence.
"The answer is still 'No,' you know," she finally said.
He looked offended. "I would never have asked you at a time like this."
"I know." And she did. But she had still needed to make it clear.
He looked around, then looked back at her with a twist to his lips. "There are others, however, who will think you fair game. I am surprised that they are not lined up here, to make their offers for your house and body."
That jolted Elizabeth for just a moment. "And they would get a 'No' forever."
There was curiosity on Giacomo's face now. "Why? They could give you a very comfortable life, and raise your children well."
Elizabeth smiled. "First, to paraphrase a Grantville expression, I've soared with eagles; I'm not about to tie myself to a turkey."
Giacomo chuckled at that.
"And second, I have some things to do, some things to take care of. I've got to get my head on straight." And I've got to lightning-rod some guilt out of my soul, she said to herself.
Another moment of silence, broken finally by Elizabeth. "Actually, there is something you can do for me."
Giacomo looked to her with expectation.
"In six months come see me."
A look of hope began to form on his face.
"Then you can ask me your question."
The smile that crept onto his face was like the dawning of the sun. The first hint of warmth came to Elizabeth from that smile.
Ein Feste Burg, Episode Six
While our friends in Eisenach have “wonderful nights,” and the deconstruction of the Wartburg still goes on in the spring of the year 1634, we need to rewind to the summer of 1632 and meet some other people who will eventually become involved in the project, too.
The following story is inspired by the novel El ingenioso hidalgo Don Quixote de la Mancha written by Miguel de Cervantes Saavedra, published in the year 1605, and one of the biggest bestsellers in Europe in the first quarter of the seventeenth century.
Y asi, sin dar parte a persona alguna de su intencion, y sin que nadie le viese, una manana, antes del dia, que era uno de los calurosos del mes de julio, se armo de todas sus armas, subio sobre Rocinante.
Vnd ohne vorwissen einiges Menschen / ohn entdeckung seines Vorhabens / auch da? jhn niemand sahe oder seiner gewahr wurde / waffnete er sich eines Morgens vor der Sonnen Auffgang an einem der hitzigsten Tage des Hewmonats mit seiner gantzen Rustung / stieg auff seinen Rossubrall.
So, without giving notice of his intention to anyone, and without anybody seeing him, one morning before the dawning of the day (which was one of the hottest of the month of July) he donned his suit of armour, mounted Rocinante.
Grantville, New United States
July 1632
Marshall Ambler left his home before dawn. Dressed in a duster and an old Stetson, he saddled the horse Ruben Nasi had bought for him, and led it out of the stable. The leftovers from a job in the 80s, an old theodolite and a ranging pole, were firmly attached to his saddle, along with some clothes and all the achievements of civilization not available down-time. When they reached the street, Marshall mounted his steed and steered it along Buffalo Creek.
By the time the sun rose, he was already past the Ring and on the road to Rudolstadt. There he would meet his prospective assistant Melchior Nehring, Secretarius at the court of Duke Johann Ernst of Saxe-Eisenach, who in turn was, according to Ruben, his new employer.
Although Marshall had made use of the months since Ruben had contacted him to practice riding, he was sure that he would have to take a longer rest in Rudolstadt. Ten miles for the first ride would certainly be enough for his posterior.
For me there's no impossible,
I order, bind, forbid, set free
Grantville
Two months earlier
As on most evenings Marshall Ambler, teacher at Grantville Tech Center, was sitting on a bench in the Thuringen Gardens, boasting about his model railroad and the Germans around him hung on his every word. In the last year, he had started the tradition to demonstrate his railroad table only to the three best students after each class test, and so the word had spread among the down-timers about the great honor.