Eric Flint's 1632 & Beyond Issue #5 by unknow

Author:unknow
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Flint's Shards Inc.
Published: 2024-06-02T00:00:00+00:00

Torches crackled and tainted the air with the stench of burning pitch. Their flames rippled at the caress of the wind, rising to its touch like a child whose hair was ruffled by an affectionate hand. Cascades of sparks spiraled up into the night.

Fire loved to burn.

On a wooden platform erected before the tower of the Peacock Gate, Christian's grandfather leaned over the sea of faces like the figurehead of a sailing ship. Behind him, aligned like officers on deck, stood his son Deacon Engel and the other men Christian had stumbled in upon that morning. Their eyes glowed like embers in the torchlight, and a crimson glow surrounded them, reflected from the red sandstone walls of the Peacock Tower.

Grandfather's clenched fist rose. Its shadow loomed upon the city wall. He shook his fist at the silent crowd below him. "By now, you've heard the news from Mainz. Of these misguided who call themselves Korrespondenzausschüsse, our brothers in Christ who have betrayed Him as despicably as any Jew, who have taken up arms and murdered Christ's devoted followers, even his shepherds on Earth! 'We are all equal under God,' they proclaim."

He halted and glared at the throng gathered below the platform. Murmurs and mutters rustled.

"Jews the equal of good Christians?" Grandfather's voice was iron. "Was the serpent equal to Adam? No! Never!"

From the back of the crowd, someone echoed, "Never!"

Grandfather nodded. "Are those who rebuffed Christ and salvation equal to those who acknowledge Christ as Lord?"

A few voices answered. "Never!"

"Never!" Grandfather said. "And each day, more of these betrayers of Christ crowd our streets, scurrying away from the war to the east like curs, instead of joining to help repel the Turkish invaders. Instead, they dirty our doorways, sully our markets with their cheap, gaudy wares, huddle in our alleys with their stinks and their brats, spreading disease—and conspiring. Conspiring as they did in Mainz! Will we permit them to do it here?"

"No!" came scattered cries, but these still few.

To Christian, most of the townsfolk appeared uncertain, perplexed, drawn out to the Pfauenpforte not by fear but by curiosity, seeking spectacle. Some had brought their children, and these paid Grandfather and his words little attention, chasing each other within the forest of adults, occasionally being caught up in a parent's arms when they drew too close.

The old man frowned at them. Christian well knew that look of ire and frustration. Memories of old bruises tightened upon his skin, but before his grandfather could castigate the crowd, a hand touched the old lion's shoulder. Christian's uncle, the Reverend Deacon Engel, met Grandfather's eyes. The deacon's lips moved silently. Grandfather's face lost none of its severity, but he stepped back, his drawn lips curving into the tiniest of smiles, his expression conveying a fierce pride in his son, the deacon—a look that caused Christian's chest to ache with longing.

Striding to the platform's edge, the reverend deacon looked upon the crowd, his gaze as unwavering as a falcon's upon its prey. The crowd stilled.

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