Georg staggered to his feet, and wound up braced against a wall. He wiped the manure off his face with his hand, and wiped the hand on his already sodden shirt.
“I smell like shit,” he muttered aloud, “which is just wunderbar, and I feel like it, too.”
Georg waited until the world stopped spinning, and then walked unsteadily to the mouth of the alley. The bright light from the sun caused him to stop, close his eyes and wait until they adjusted. His head throbbed.
“Let’s get it over with,” he announced to the uncaring passersby who were giving him wide berth on the street.
“Schuler! Komm hier, schnell! ”
So much for sneaking into work, Georg thought. He turned and walked to the office door from which the bellow had come.
“ Ja, Ich komme,” he said to the tiny office’s occupant. “Yes, boss, what did you want?”
“The innocent act won’t wash, Schuler,” Gerhard Mann said, looking him up and down. Mann was a huge man, well over six feet, and brawny. He had been a blacksmith until he read about up-timer production techniques and realized that one of the biggest needs in Magdeburg for a long time to come would be nails. Mann just barely fit behind the desk, and as he stood, he knocked some papers to the floor.
“You’re hungover, you’re still drunk, you’re covered with horseshit, and you are full of it, too. This is the third time in a week you’ve showed up late like this. Here’s your final pay. You’re fired.”
Mann threw some coins at him, and Georg scrambled to pick them up off the floor. He didn’t bother to argue. Besides, Mann was right. What did the up-timers say? What was their word? Loser, Lo-oo-ser. That’s it. Well, I am.
Schuler headed out the door, turned down the street, and looked for the nearest Bierstube. Ah, there was one. Since he had money, he might as well drink it.
He walked into the place, and went up to the bar. The tavernkeeper looked at him, as he walked down the bar toward Georg.
“You stink. Let’s see your money.”
Georg slapped a coin on the bar.
“There. See, I have money! Bier, bitte! ”
“Fine, but you stink too much to have in here for long. I’ll give you one beer. After that you leave.” The tavernkeeper palmed the coin, and moved to a tap. He filled a stein and set it down in front of Georg.
“Drink up, and then get out.” The tavernkeeper turned away, moved to the far end of the bar, and began drying drinking cups.
Georg upended his beer, downed it, and turned toward the door. There was a commotion outside, and what sounded like music. Georg headed outside, and stopped stock still.
Across the street was, well, something. It was a small group of people dressed alike, with a kind of uniform, and musical instruments including the largest drum Georg had ever seen. There was a large bearded man to go with the drum and he was beating it to a rhythm that made Georg’s head pound. There was a trumpet player, who, as far as Georg could tell through his headache, was not very good. There was another one of the uniformed people playing really energetically on what Georg thought was a kind of guitarra. The rest of them, three or four, were singing loudly. Georg spent a few seconds trying to figure out what they were singing, then it penetrated his drink- fogged and hungover brain.
“ Ein feste Burg ist unser Gott… ” they sang. “A mighty fortress is our God…”
Georg shook his head, trying to clear away his headache. What next, he thought. Lutherans in uniforms on street corners. What are they doing?
“ Ach, who cares?” He shook his head again, and immediately wished he hadn’t. Things started swimming around again. The noise from the Lutherans just wasn’t helping. He held onto the building wall as he moved away from the Bierstube.
Georg woke, muzzily, at first unaware of his surroundings. Slowly, he focused, and realized he was in bed in his tiny rented room. How he got there, he wasn’t quite sure. He had a headache, but it wasn’t as bad as it had been. There was light coming in the small window that was high on one wall, and he was naked. His clothes were in a smelly pile near the door.
He stood up, grabbed his clothes and quickly headed out the door toward the community bathroom. Thankfully, it was empty and he was able to wash himself, and brush most of the horse manure off his clothes. He wished he had another suit of clothes so he could have these cleaned. He hadn’t had a new suit of clothes since he was in the army.
Georg dressed and went back to his room. How much longer it would be his room, he couldn’t say. Without work, he wasn’t going to be able to pay rent, and with the number of people coming to Magdeburg to help with building the new capital and rebuilding the city, his landlord wasn’t going to be very willing to let him stay on until he could pay. Well, he thought, it isn’t like I have much to move.
Georg sat on his pallet and thought about what to do next. Obviously, he needed to find another job. That shouldn’t be too hard, he thought. As he was getting to his feet, he heard a clink noise from under his pallet. He reached under, and found a stoneware jug. It was not large, and it wasn’t full.
“ Ach! Ginever! ” Georg grinned as he pulled the cork. “Dutch Courage! I forgot I had this!”
He lifted the jug of gin and took a swig. It went down hard, but the liquor felt pleasantly warm in his stomach. Even though his stomach was empty, he started to feel better. “Dr. Silvius’ fine tonic,” he said. “Just what the doctor ordered. It shouldn’t be hard to find a job again, so I’ll do it later.” He took another swig. And then, another.
He was feeling just fine as he slipped from his pallet onto the floor. But he wasn’t feeling so well when he woke up a couple of hours later.
“ Mein Gott in Himmel! ” he shouted, and then grabbed his ears as the sound of his own voice made the inside of his head ring.
Georg coughed. The smoke was beginning to be very thick. He coughed again. “Stupid idiots! First you pillage, then you burn!” There were few houses in Magdeburg that weren’t burning now. This was really going to cut down the amount of plunder. Sheiss! Georg stumbled through the smoke, hacking.
Suddenly the smoke cleared and he saw he was standing in front of a house that hadn’t yet been touched. Lots of loot, maybe!
Three of Tilly’s pikemen came up and Georg drew his hanger and waved it. “Mine, you bastards! This one’s mine! Beat it!”
He wasn’t sure why, but they turned and ran away. Maybe he just looked crazy enough to take on all three of them. He turned and kicked at the door. It didn’t move, so he kicked it harder, and it began to splinter. He used his hanger to cut more of the door apart, and then with a final kick it blew apart. Georg raised his hanger and went through the door.
It was dark inside, so he kicked open a shutter and let both light and smoke in. He turned to see what loot there was, and he heard a noise. He raised his hanger and advanced to the back of the front room. He kicked the door in, and saw a woman on a bed. She had a big cavalry man’s horse pistol, and it was cocked. She raised it in her shaking right hand, and fired. As she did, Georg threw himself forward and severed her hand, dropping the pistol to the floor amid a shower of blood.
“Nooooooo!” There was a scream behind him, and he turned, sweeping his hanger around. He couldn’t stop in time, as his blade cut a small child in half.
Georg dropped to his knees and vomited. He stumbled out of the room, and out of the house into the smoke filled street. He vomited again.
All he could hear was the little girl screaming, “Noooooooo!”
He woke, as he always did, screaming and shaking. He felt waves of cold and hot flashes and he was sodden with sweat. It was the damn dream again. It was the dream that had made him leave Pappenheim’s cavalry. It was the damn dream.
Georg wondered what was wrong with him. He used to be able to drink like a fish. He used to be able to put away much more Ginever than that with no trouble, and be completely functional the next day. But since that day,
