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.

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 Manchawritten 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, Secretariusat 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.

While he was rattling on about the differences of the gear transmissions of German and American diesel engines, he noticed a strange face. It looked like a Spaniard, or one of these Ottoman Jews who had the Grantville money business under their control.

Later the man approached. "Good evening, Mr. Ambler," he said in nearly accent-free English. "My name is Ruben Nasi, and I have a business proposal for you."

Marshall noticed that the man didn't try to shake hands with him. Most of his health problems only showed up when he was near fellow Americans or in one of the modern houses of Grantville, but some habits die hard. Marshall still avoided shaking anybody's hand, and if this man knew that, he perhaps knew still more about him.

"Okay, let's hear it," he said.

"Not here. What about taking a walk together?"

A secret proposal! Sounds like another Grantville spy. But for whom?

Aloud he said, "Why not? It’s private enough in my apartment. Want to see my railroad?"

"That's exactly the point," the Jew answered.

Marshall squinted at him. "Oh, no! I won't sell it. Never!"

Nasi lifted his hands defensively. "Sorry, that wasn't my intention. Please accept my apology. I was referring to your expertise, not to your property. But I would really like to see that marvel."

Marshall could see the Jew's eyes examine the locks and grilles of his basement apartment. And the man even didn't hide it.

"I can see you have invested much in your safety. It seems you are a cautious man."

Marshall shrugged. "Sure. Is that good or bad?"

"Oh, it speaks very much in your favor. We need a cautious man. And, if I may speak frankly, one who likes us 'down-timers' more than he's fond of the Americans."