1816: the Grandest Tour

Germany: Chapter 2

The trees loomed high in the distance, and before they knew it the forest had swallowed them up in its mysterious depths. Outside the sky had clouded over all of a sudden – or perhaps it was the dense and thickening boughs. Whatever the case, George looked out with a certain unease, wondering if this road had been the right choice.

"Schnell, bitte!" he called, leaning his head out the window. These were practically his only words of German. Franz growled something back that he couldn't understand. Beside the driver, Isaac was holding on to his hat – to secure it from the rattling bumps and guard from stray branches striking it off.

"I think he said there's too much debris on the road," Tobias half-yelled over the carriage noise, "to go faster, I mean."

George nodded, frustrated at events that seemed to be getting out of control. He sighed and sat back. All he could do was wait, and hope they got through these woods without any –

SNAP!

"Scheisse!" Franz shouted from above. George and Tobias lurched forward as he reigned in the horses and they came to an abrupt halt. They heard Franz and Isaac jump down, and the two gentlemen got out to see what the matter was.

"Sie ist gefickt, ich bin sicher," Franz muttered, slowly stepping around the coach with his head bent to examine each wheel.

"What does he say?" Asked George.

"Oh – er – I'm not sure," said Tobias, his face growing red.

Meanwhile, Franz had found the wheel in question. It was the rear one on the right: a fallen branch from the road had trapped itself in the spokes and shattered. The wheel was mostly intact, but a few large cracks had appeared from the impact and looked ill-omened indeed.

"What do you think, Franz?" said Tobias in German.

"Well, it's not good," said the Switzer coachman. "We can't go fast anymore, that's certain."

Tobias translated for George, who felt his heart sink.

"We should make for the first village we can," Franz went on, "and see what repairs we can find."

George and Tobias thought this was as good a course to take as any, and wearily everyone got ready to move on. As he was climbing back in the coach, however, George heard the faint clop of hooves coming up behind them. He turned to see a rider in the distant gloom, trotting along at his ease so probably not a highwayman (his first nervous thought).

Tobias stood in the middle of the road and hailed the man, who came up at a canter when he saw them. He was a homely fellow, past middle age and wearing a pointed cap with a feather in it.

They explained to him in fits and starts what the matter was, and he kept up a grave and regular nodding the whole while.

"You're in luck, sirs," the man said in a rounded accent quite different from Franz's. "We are quite near the village of Kleinpferd. There you shall find a carpenter who can fix your wheel. Come, I will show you."

They thanked him, and as the man trotted off the carriage followed in his wake. In a mile or so they came to the village and found a small woodworker's shop just as the man had said. It was luckily still afternoon, so they were able to engage the local carpenter's help with no trouble. He came out in his apron and whistled at the cracked wheel, telling them they were lucky it held out as long as it did. When asked how long the repair might take he scratched his chin thoughtfully.

"Could be you need a new wheel altogether," he said, "or could be I can fix this one back up to normal. Could be a few days, either way."

George nearly sank to his knees when Tobias translated this. His whole plan seemed to be fading away like a desert mirage.