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Chapter 13

The J-Team


Grantville


Nick Smithson glowered at the predawn light just glimmering in the eastern sky from where he stood in the front yard of Mestermann’s Stable. He stared up to where the sign on the roof of the stable could be made out. It read in both English and German:


MESTERMANN’S STABLE


HORSES FOR RENT OR LEASE


In smaller print it said:


REASONABLE FEES FOR PRIVATE STABLING


STUD BOOK AVAILABLE


He looked down and shivered. For all that it was July and the height of summer, the early morning breeze blowing over the flag-stone paved yard had more of a bite than a nip to it. He hunched his shoulders and thrust his hands deeper into his coat pockets.

“Cheer up, Nick,” Gus Heinzerling said as he clapped the younger man on the shoulder. “At least you’re not leading Matins this morning.”

“And whose fault is it that I’m not in a nice warm church building doing exactly that?” Nick observed in a biting tone. “Just who insisted on leading off on this quest before the birds have even woken up yet?”

Gus was still chuckling when Mestermann walked out of the stable leading a couple of saddled horses. The stableman handed Gus one set of reins. “You’ve ridden Magnus before, so you get him again. Remember he likes to puff his belly up when he’s being saddled, so put a knee in it before you tighten the cinch straps if you don’t want to slide off. And if a stableman saddles him, you’d best double-check it before you mount up.”

“Good old Magnus,” Gus said as he ran his hand down the horse’s muzzle. “I’ve always liked a horse with a sense of humor nastier than my own.”

Nick shook his head as one of Mestermann’s stable boys ran up to help Gus get his bags and water bottles tied on to the saddle. Mestermann turned to him and handed him the other set of reins. “And you, Father Nicholas, get Maximus. He responds well to Max. He’s new to your church’s pool of horses, and he’s a bit young, but he’s very even-tempered, and for all he’s strong enough to outlast you, he has a very tender mouth, so don’t be treating him like some hard-mouthed mule, all right?”

“A gelding?” Nick asked, looking the horse over.

“I only buy geldings,” Mestermann answered with a grin. “Mares have this unfortunate habit of going into heat on a somewhat regular basis, you see, and no one with any sense wants to ride a mare in heat if they can help it. Riding a stallion around a mare in heat is even worse. Besides, with the constant demand for horses for cavalry, the mares are all busy breeding and the stallions not being bred are in highest demand for higher ranking cavalry troopers. Even good geldings can be hard to find.” He shrugged. “Fortunately, I have my sources.”

“And it’s good for us that you do,” Nick said. He wasn’t an equestrian by down-timer standards, but he’d ridden more than a few miles on horseback. He ran his eyes over the horse and equipage. “Unusual saddle, that.”

Mestermann nodded. “Ja. Based on a Polish dragoon saddle, but with a few ideas from Grantville added to it. This one’s new. There’s an old saddler named Samuel Flinder who’s settled nearby. He and his son and grandson had been taken up by Hofmann’s mercenaries before the Battle of the Crapper. His son was killed before the battle, but he and his grandson, Pieter, were set free and settled just a ways down the road in the Porter Avenue area. His rheumatism is getting worse, and he’s trying hard to get the boy up to at least journeyman-level work before his hands give out. They won’t have to deal with a saddler’s guild here in Grantville, so if he can get the boy that far, he’ll be able to support himself. They’re producing these for me as my older saddles wear out. This is only the third one I’ve bought, but so far my regular clients like them.”

“I think I can see why,” Nick said with a nod.

The stable boy trotted over and picked Nick’s bag up from the ground and tied it on to the crupper ring at the rear of the saddle, then grabbed his water bottle holder and strapped it to an oblong ring mounted on the right front of the saddle. He looked around, and Nick chuckled. “That’s all I’m carrying this trip. But thank you for doing that for me.”

The boy bobbed his head with a grin, and headed back for the stable.

Mestermann placed his hand on the front part of the saddle. “Flinder didn’t put a full horn on the saddle like the American western saddles have, but he did build it up more here than the original dragoon saddle had. If you grab here, you’ll find it easier to help pull yourself up and into the saddle.’ He grabbed Maximus’ bridle. “Go ahead, give it a try.”

Nick shifted his reins to his right hand, then reached up to the saddle with his left. He could feel what Mestermann was talking about.

He lifted his left foot to the stirrup, placed his right hand on top of his left, gave a hop and pulled. He dropped into the saddle faster and easier than he ever had from a ground mount before.

“I like that,” he said. “I like that a lot.”

Mestermann grinned and released the bridle. “Let me check the stirrup straps for length.” He had to lengthen the left one by one notch. Stepping back, he said, “That should fit right. Have a good trip, and try to find some grain for these boys while you’re on the road.” He waved a hand and turned back to the stable.

Nick looked over to Gus was already mounted and looking at him with his eyebrows raised. “Can we begin now?”

The younger priest snorted and nudged Maximus with his heels. “Lead on, O senior prelate.”

They rode out onto the road side by side.

“Where to first?” Nick asked.

“ Bamberg, then Bayreuth, then Ingolstadt,” Gus replied. “After that, we’ll have to see. Maybe Augsburg.”

“Ah, that’s why we’re not in cassocks, then.” Nick looked at the older priest.

“Ja,” Gus replied. “Bayreuth is in Protestant territory, and for all that Augsburg seem to be peaceful at the moment, it still has a heavy Protestant presence. We’re investigating, not evangelizing, so best to be prudent, don’t you think?”

“I do, indeed,” Nick said. “Let prudence be our watchword.”

They rode in silence and made their way down Route 250, headed east rather than south because it was the fastest way out of town from where they were. It was still very early. The sun was barely peeping over the eastern horizon, shining in their faces intermittently as they passed by trees and buildings.

It wasn’t long before they reached the Ring Wall, where they passed through the railroad cut alongside the tracks. Once on the outside of the Wall, Gus gestured to the right, and they rode around the Ring Wall until they could see what passed for a southern road out of the Grantville area. The sun was a little higher now, and there were a few people and vehicles on the road.

There was a school bus trundling along headed toward some of the outlying residential districts. They paused for a moment to let it pass. Maximus snorted and shook his head at the noise and smell. Nick leaned forward and patted Maximus on the neck. “Max, my friend, I hope you like to travel and see new places and new things, because you’re going to be doing a lot of it.”



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