Joseph Hanauer
Douglas W. Jones
Ring of Fire Press
East Chicago, IN
2013
Other RoF Press Titles:
Turn Your Radio On
Essen Steel
Second Chance Bird
No Ship for Tranquebar
The Danish Scheme
Published by Ring of Fire Press
East Chicago, IN, U.S.A.
http://www.1632.org
Portions have been previously published in the Grantville Gazette.
Copyright © 2013 by Douglas W. Jones
All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form.
A Ring of Fire Press Original.
Introduction
This book is an example of a new project we're launching in the 1632 series. We're publishing e-books under the imprint of Ring of Fire Press, consisting of two kinds of materials.
The first are reissues -- sometimes expanded and/or rewritten -- of stories which were originally serialized in the Grantville Gazette. These stories were simply too long to be included in any of the paper anthologies published by Baen Books. At the same time, we felt it would be useful (and hopefully popular) to put them together in unitary volumes so that people who want to re-read them, or read them for the first time, don't have to hunt for them scattered over a number of separate issues of the magazine.
The second type are also reissues taken from the Grantville Gazette; in this case, compilations of fact articles on the same (or similar) subjects. We used to reissue fact articles along with stories in the paper editions published by Baen Books. But beginning with the change in format with Grantville Gazette V, where we switched from a direct one-to-one reprint of magazine issues to anthology-style "best of" collections taken from half a dozen issues, we stopped reissuing fact articles altogether. Again, we felt it would be useful (and hopefully popular) to put together unitary e-book volumes devoted to a single topic or closely related set of topics. That way, people interested in the subject matter don't have to hunt for the separate articles scattered across many issues of the magazine.
This is being done in consultation and with the agreement of Baen Books. As before, Baen will continue to publish the paper editions of the Ring of Fire series, as well as the e-book formats of those volumes. The material we will be publishing as Ring of Fire Press is material that Baen would not be publishing.
For those interested, it will also be possible to purchase paper editions of the Ring of Fire Press volumes on a print-on-demand basis.
Eric Flint
June 2013
Joseph Hanauer
by
Douglas W. Jones
Part One: Into the Very Pit of Hell
Fifteenth of Iyyar, 5391 (May 17, 1631))
The congregation for the Saturday evening service at the close of the Sabbath filled the small synagogue in Hammelburg. Several out-of-town visitors brought the number well above the minimum of ten men required for the service. It was not a congregation that placed great value on formality or decorum. Each man prayed at his own pace through many of the prayers, and at times, there were quiet conversations while slower members of the congregation caught up with the rest.
After the braided candle had been extinguished and the last words of the hymn to Elijah the Prophet had faded, the congregation began to drift apart. Several small groups remained in the schul talking quietly as others left.
"Reb Yakov," a large man said. "I enjoyed your comments on the Torah portion this afternoon. You say you're from Hanau? What brings you to Hammelburg?"
"Who are you again?" the rabbi asked, looking up.
"Yitzach ben Zvi, from Kissingen," the man said. His accent held almost no hint of Judische Deutsch in it, less even than in the speech of the Jews of Hammelburg. If they had not been speaking in a synagogue, the rabbi and his companions would have taken him for a Christian.
"We're on our way to Poland," the rabbi said.
"Poland? It's a long way to Poland, and with the war, is this a safe route?"
"Is anything safe for a Jew in this world? The route up the Fränkische Saale valley is direct enough. Moische Frankfurter here has traveled this way to the Leipzig fair twice. He knows the road and he has his father's notes from many more trips. So far, they've proven to be pretty good."
"But the war?"
"Now that King Gustav has left Poland, the war in that land is over, so Polish life is getting better. It doesn't take much to make it better than life in this war-torn land. For the moment, the war is all in the north, and without wishing ill on those living there, we hope it stays that way. Tilly and Pappenheim are tied up at Magdeburg, and that should keep King Gustav busy and out of the way. After we cross the Thüringer Wald, we'll stay well south of the armies."
The conversation continued until only the out-of-town guests remained. Yossie listened quietly; Yakov handled the questions. He and his two companions had faced similar questions a week previously, in the Jewish quarter of Aschaffenburg. That had been their first Sabbath away from home.
After a short while, the two women in the group rejoined their companions. They had spent the Sabbath day visiting with the Jewish women of the town. The synagogue served many purposes. It was a house of prayer and a school for the Jewish children of Hammelburg and it housed the community ovens. The bath house was attached and when there were out-of-town Jewish visitors it served as a makeshift inn.
"It must take a fair amount of silver to travel all the way to Poland," Yitzach said.
"That's why we're traveling with an experienced merchant," the rabbi said. "Reb Moische, why don't you explain how we can afford this trip."
"If we wanted to travel quickly, like a court Jew," Moische said, "we'd hire a coach and trade horses at every town. Where the roads are good, we could make a hundred miles in a day covering the entire distance at a trot. At that speed, we could go to Poland and back in a few weeks.
"If we had expensive trade goods, silk, spices, fine pottery from Delft, we'd hire teamsters from Frammersbach to drive our freight wagons, and we might make thirty miles a day. Before this twice cursed war began, my father could afford that."
Yitzach chuckled. "Is it news that the war has ruined trade?"
"No," Moische answered, "but there are still goods that you can buy low here and sell high there. It does slow the trip to a crawl, stopping at every village to buy and sell, but if you have a horse and a cart and you know the market, well, Yossie, you can make a profit. What have you bought and sold?"
Yossie wondered why Yitzach was so curious about their business. "Not much, but I didn't start with much either."
The merchant grinned. "Didn't start with much. Just books. Now what have you got?"
Yossie had enjoyed the way Moische had parried Yitzach's questions, giving almost no information in his answers. Now, he was puzzled to find that he was being asked to say more. After a Sabbath day spent in study together, they were not total strangers, so he only hesitated briefly before answering. "Well, when we left Hanau, Rav Yankel and I had a chest of copies of the Hanau Prayerbook, unbound, and a few boxes of other books, mostly Jewish but some Christian."
Yitzach ben Zvi looked startled. "So many books? What did you do, rob a Yeshivah or a print shop?"
Yossie chuckled. "We didn't rob it. Rav Yankel and I used to work at Hans Jacob Hene's printing press in Hanau. Master Hene died last year, may his memory be a blessing, and the new owner, well, he doesn't deal in Jewish books the way Master Hene did, so there was little reason for either the books or us to stay."
"So you are paying for a trip with books?"
"We sell and trade. There are forges and glassworks in the Spessa
rt, and there is a paper mill in Lohr. We found a good market for scrap iron and rags. Now that we're in the Fränkische Saale Valley, we're trading empty wine bottles for full whenever we can. Friday, I sold some prayer books, bentschers, and a Chumash here."
"You'd better be careful which Christian books you show people in this valley," Yitzach said. "This is a Catholic valley now. If you have books of the lives of the saints, you'll do well, but if you have Lutheran or Calvinist books, be careful with them."
As the conversation wound down, the Sabbath lamp that had burned since Friday evening was extinguished. Aside from small splashes of moonlight shining through the small eastern windows, the only light came from the eternal flame over the ark holding the Torah scrolls. It was not long before the only sound in the building was the sound of gentle snores.
Sunday morning, there was work to be done. Buying and selling within the Jewish community was safe, but it was not a day to travel. Christians didn't like to be reminded that there were Jews living among them on their holy day, so the gates to the Jewish quarter remained closed.
While the merchants traded what they could, Rabbi Yakov ben Pinchas and Yosef ben Shlomo of Hanau worked as teachers in the Hammelburg schul. It was familiar work for the old Rabbi. He'd taught at the cheder in Hanau for many years, working only part time as a typesetter and proofreader at Hans Jacob Hene's print shop. He'd also worked part time as a scribe, writing the occasional marriage contract or divorce papers, or even repairing a Torah scroll when needed.
For Yosef ben Shlomo, the day's work as a school teacher was a new experience. Yossie had been a full-time print-shop worker since his parents died. Not an apprentice, though. Jews could not take apprenticeships in any of the guild trades.
Monday, after morning prayers, Yitzach ben Zvi set off with the group of travelers toward Kissingen. To Yossie, the small horse Yitzach was riding seemed large. Certainly, it was bigger and healthier than the old horse pulling the cart he and his sister shared with the old rabbi.
"Tell me," Yitzach said. "How is it that you can buy and sell so freely? I'm a Schutzjude. I know the laws that limit what we can do."
"Reb Moische, that's your business," Yossie said.
The young merchant, Moische ben Avram, gave a bow from beside the horse he was leading. "At your service. I might ask how you make a living. You face the same trade restrictions as we do."
"I'm a broker, cattle, feed, wine, you name it, I connect sellers with buyers. That's basically all a protected Jew is allowed to do aside from making loans."
"So do you ever take someone's cattle, for example, and give them silver now, before you go to look for a buyer?"
"Sure. Of course, what I do is loan them the value of the cattle, and then the buyer pays back the loan, plus a bit of interest, plus a commission."
Rabbi Yakov coughed. "But of course, you never take more than one sixth of the value."
"What?" Yossie asked. He had been admiring the way Moische had turned Yitzach's question away from their business.
"One sixth. It follows from Parshas Behar. Come Yossie, we just read it two days ago on Shabbos. What the Christians call Leviticus chapter twenty-one, but I forget the verse number. It says 'And if you sell anything to your fellow or buy anything from your fellow's hand, you shall not wrong one another.'"
"I know the text, but where does it say one sixth?"
"That is the oral tradition, the Talmud."
"But it says your fellow's hand, doesn't that mean only other Jews, not the goyim?"
"Except that the goyim around here worship our God, so they aren't idolaters. They bind themselves by the laws against theft and dishonesty, so we must treat them as our fellows in business."
"A good lesson, Rabbi," Yitzach said. "Was it Rabbi Chananya who said that where words of Torah are exchanged, the divine presence is there? But for the sake of argument, since I only act as a broker, not buying or selling, it doesn't strictly apply, does it?"
"Your status as a broker is just a legal fiction to satisfy the Christian authorities," the Rabbi said. "Of course, to support that fiction, you have to give your buyer an exact accounting, so he knows exactly what fee he is paying. A successful Shutzjude must always charge prices that are even more fair and more honest than any Christian merchant or they will cancel your protection and send you packing."
"That puts it well," Yitzach said. "Now, though, I think I'll send myself packing. My horse and I would both rather move a bit faster than you're walking. But, why not spend the night at my place? It's just outside Kissingen. When you reach the village of Aura on the north bank of the Saale, turn north up the hill to the next crossroads, then east across the upland toward Kissingen. My house will be one of the first you come to. It is on the hill looking down on Kissingen, easy to find. But if you get lost, just ask for me by my goyische name, Isaac Kissinger."
The Fränkische Saale valley led them along a winding path to the northeast through a land of chalky hills and vineyards. When the two loaded carts turned aside at the next cluster of farmhouses in the hope of selling something, Yitzach's horse quickly passed out of sight around the next bend.
The travelers slowed in every village they passed to see if they could find someone who wanted empty wine bottles or some of the ironwork Moische Frankfurter had picked up at a forge in the Spessart. They had pruning hook blades, sickle blades, hoe blades and shovel blades for sale. Whenever they had earned a surplus of silver, Moische disappeared into one of the wine cellars along the way to see if he could buy bottles of wine.
Moische did not need to emphasize that it was dangerous to have too much silver. They had already been robbed once on the trip. It was a small loss because the thieves only took silver, not the books, rags or scrap iron that represented the bulk of their wealth at that time. Wine was a more dangerous cargo than rags or scrap, but a thief who could easily take all of their silver would only be able to carry a few bottles of wine.
As required by law, they were all clearly identified as Jews. The three men in the group wore Jew badges, yellow circles, on their outer cloaks. The two women wore veils that were marked with the two blue stripes reserved for the Jews over their hair combs.
For Yossie and his sister, approaching each cluster of houses was an uncomfortable experience, even after two weeks of travel. They had always lived in the large Jewish communities of Frankfurt am Main and Hanau, while the others had much more experience in the larger world. Yossie's experience with non-Jews was limited to those who routinely dealt with Jews. Here in the Fränkische Saale valley, Jews were rare. Sometimes when they approached a village, children announced their arrival as if they were devils. Some of the men would cross themselves defensively after completing a trade.
Seventeenth of Iyyar, 5391 (May 19, 1631)
Monday afternoon, with the sun low behind them, the travelers turned east toward Kissingen, although the old road sign spelled it Kissick. The valley of the Fränkische Saale was spread out below them to the right, turning north ahead of them and winding lazily away to the southwest behind them. There were vineyards on both sides of the road, but higher up the hills were woodlands. A haze of smoke rose from the valley ahead of them, marking the location of the Kissingen salt works.
"These vines aren't well kept," Moische Frankfurter said, walking beside Yossie. "And did you notice the empty houses in village we just passed?"
"The war, I suppose," Yossie said, as he led the horse pulling the rear cart.
"There hasn't been war in this valley for a decade," the young merchant said. "I suppose, though, that the taxes to pay for the war would be almost as hard on many farmers. Some of them seem to have more wine than they can sell."
"So the Christians are leaving the land, too?"
"More likely, when the families can't afford the taxes, their sons leave to take jobs as mercenaries."
"Can you two men talk about something less grim?" asked Basya, Yossie's sister. "How about a song?" she added, reaching into the back of
the cart in front of her and pulling out her copy of the Shmuelbuch and starting to lead them in song.
"Rav Joseph said that if men sing and women respond, the law is broken," Yakov grumbled, quoting from the Talmud under his breath as he walked beside Yossie. "But if women sing and men respond, it is as if fire is sweeping a field of flax."
For the last mile into Kissingen, Basya led the travelers in verses from the epic ballad of Samuel the prophet, King Saul and King David. The subject was biblical and the dialect was Jewish, but the ballad form was as German as the countryside around them. Everyone in the group knew the melody. Only the old rabbi did not join in. Yossie kept his silence through a few verses, not wanting to offend his teacher, but when Yakov made no further comment about the evils of allowing women and men to sing together, Yossie finally joined in the song.
The house of Isaac Kissinger was easy to find. It was one of a small cluster of farmhouses on the hillside above Kissingen. All of the buildings were old, made of ancient plastered stonework below with timber, wattle and daub above.
"Welcome to Kissingen, almost," Yitzach said, greeting them from the door. "Jews aren't allowed in town after dark, so we must live outside the walls, closer to the farmers we serve. Let me help with the horses; they'll be comfortable in the field out back. We'll eat after we settle the horses. I warned my wife you were coming, so there's plenty to eat. We'll be done in time for afternoon prayers."
Yitzach's wife Chava was not as round as her husband, but she looked comfortable. He also had a daughter, Gitele, who was close to Yossie's age and who seemed to be alternately fascinated and shy in his presence.
Over the meal, as was the custom, zmiros took priority over conversation. Songs based on the Psalms or other biblical verses met the need for words of Torah at the table without sounding academic. Some of the tunes were very simple and repetitive, easy for the smallest child to join in, while others were complete psalms, sung like ballads. When everyone was done eating, Yitzach took out his bentscher and led them in the chanting the long grace after meals.