So crossing only four borders on this journey was a rather small number.
Marshall stopped his thoughts from straying too far away and concentrated on the current point.
"Do you have the supplies I wanted?"
"Oh, yess, Sorr. Fresh food, soap for washing, thick woolen blankets for the nights and a tent. And the maps-" He wanted to fetch them from his bag, but Marshall stopped him.
"Not here, not now. I think we should take advantage of the good weather and ride at least one more hour. We ought to reach Kahla before noon, and along the Saale we won't need maps."
Marshall was not completely happy about staying in the saddle for another hour, but they were still too near Grantville, and a visitor might recognize him on his confidential mission. So he decided to keep moving.
Gasthaus zum Stadttor, Kahla, Duchy of Saxe-Altenburg
"Yess, Sorr, Count Tilly stayed in this inn last year on his way to Breitenfeld," Melchior loudly commented on the paintings on the walls of the inn. "We Germans are not much concerned if he's friend or enemy. In fact, that may change from one day to another. Martin Luther also slept here in 1524, and Emperor Charles the Fifth when he wasn't emperor yet."
Marshall looked around. The inn was built-according to a sign on the outside-in 1491, and had apparently not been cleaned since then. But that was something he had to live in tonight and live with in the future. He could have stayed in Grantville, but had decided otherwise.
"So you can now show me those maps you have. There apparently hasn't been an American in here yet."
The "maps" were obviously not meant to show the exact distances, but only all the villages that existed in the different principalities. When he compared them to his much less detailed version, he could see that even the angles between the towns didn't fit his map.
"This 'cartographer' was more of an artist than a surveyor," he commented.
"Oh, these are only the overview maps. We can get more exact ones in any of the Amter."
Yes, the district administrations should know exactly how many taxes to collect from which village.
"Who cares? It will be an adventure, anyway."
"Adventure?" Melchior said doubtfully. "I hope not. This area is not like your Wilder Westen. The towns in Thuringia have been here since the eighth century, when Karl Martell, grandfather of Karl der Gro?e-that's the man you Americans call Charlemagne-fought against the barbarian Saxons and founded many towns here."
Melchior shook his head. "No, since the Imperials have gone, this is a really boring part of Germany. Farmers, craftsmen, and shepherds; students and professors in the big towns, that's all you'll find here."
"Okay, so we won't stir them up. Do you think we can reach Jena today? My butt's not as sore as I thought."
Weimar, Duchy of Saxe-Weimar
September 1632
Durchlauchtigster Hochgeborener Herzog, Furst und Herr.
O Serene, Highborn Duke, Prince and Lord,
To Your Highness most humbly I allow myself to report that the news of a Spanish attack against Eisenach have reached Weimar, and the citizens are shocked, because one year of peace has induced a little economic recovery here like in most of the Thuringian principalities, and so the people thought themselves safe from the terribilites of the war, but now they are talking about forming a militia to secure at least the gates of the city, which in my humble opinion is completely futile.
But most of all I humbly want to inform and instruct Y.H., that we luckily and with God's protection reached Weimar after having successfully exploriret ways for the prospective iron path from Jena and Naumburg to this place.
In Jena we started in the park at the Saale the citizens call "The Paradise", for Mr. Ambler had detectiret this name in his books as the name of the railroad station in Jena, and we found that here are few problems to build at least a small "through station," for the line between Rudolstadt and Naumburg. The station, where goods can be loaded and unloaded, the so-called "switching yard," has to be built somewhere else.
And since the way from this park into the directio of Weimar is completely blocked by the city center of Jena-including the Collegium Jenense-he thought that the citizens might be much more pleased when the branching of the lines would happen south of their town, so another train station at the Erfurter Stra?e which leads to Weimar might be appropriate.
After having stayed in Jena for two weeks we pr?cediret to Naumburg, and explored a way from there via Apolda to Weimar, which we reached in late August. I include the exact path Mr. Ambler thinks suitable with this letter to Y.H. Also a path from Jena to Weimar is includiret.
Tomorrow we will start anew along the road to Erfurt to the west. I will write my next letter when we have reached Erfurt.
ActumWeimar, Sonntag den 12. / 2. 7bris 1632
Your submissive and humble servant,
Melchior Nehring, Secretarius
Between Monchenholzhausen and Bu?leben,
Near Erfurt, Archbishopric of Mainz
September 1632
Day was dawning when Marshall and Melchior left the inn and continued their journey.
Don Quixote had not gone far, when out of a thicket on his right there seemed to come feeble cries as of someone in distress, and wheeling, he turned Rocinante in the direction whence the cries seemed to proceed. He had gone but a few paces into the wood, when he saw a mare tied to an oak, and tied to another, and stripped from the waist upwards, a youth of about fifteen years of age, from whom the cries came. Nor were they without cause, for a lusty farmer was flogging him with a belt and following up every blow with scoldings and commands, repeating, "Your mouth shut and your eyes open!" while the youth made answer, "I won't do it again, master mine; by God's passion I won't do it again."
Marshall knew that corporal punishment was custom in the seventeenth century, but his twentieth-century attitude to morality forced him to intervene. Carefully, he told himself.
"Guten Morgen, mein Herr," he said with the little sound of arrogance he had acquired in the last two months to sustain the image of a "noble on his grand tour."
The farmer saw him, then saw the "servant" who followed him, and seemed to decide to treat him as a noble.
"Guten Morgen, Hochwohlgeboren," he answered and bowed.
"May I ask, dear man, what has enraged you so much?"
"This-" the farmer groped for words.
"— young man," Marshall helped him smiling.
"Ah, yes. This boy. I have been so gracious to him and his sister when they arrived nearly naked last year. I fed them and dressed them, and how have they thanked me? Run away, first his sister, and now this ungrateful wretch."
"I told you," the boy's voice came from behind. "She has not run away. She was abducted. By a bandit. And I want to free her."
"What a romantic adventure," Marshall said. He could nearly feel Melchior flinching behind him.
"Don't believe him, mein Herr. He's a liar," the farmer interjected.
"Why don't you let him go, when he wants to?" Marshall asked. "He will surely try again."