As Mary watched, Friedrich, the scary blue-eyed soldier, briefed the ugly servant and the woman. Even the soldier was somewhat deferential to the woman, but far less than the ugly flapping servant. The woman gave an order, and both Friedrich and the servant straightened in surprise. The soldier protested, and the woman started to berate him. There was an animated discussion that she couldn’t hear, and it looked as if the beautiful woman won the argument, hands down. She looked as if she were close to a major tantrum. The discussion ended entirely on the beautiful woman’s terms, despite protests from the soldier, Friedrich. The men bowed their heads in agreement. She then turned and marched away. Mary watched as the servant bowed to her back, elbows flapping only once. Friedrich turned to Mary and made eye contact briefly, nodded his head, and then turned away, following the woman.
Clearly they were not prepared for her to be here. The soldiers had said the count was away. This whole thing was definitely screwed up. She hoped there would be some supper, she hadn’t eaten since breakfast.
The ugly male servant finally came over to her, and he stared at her, looking her up and down. A long, lingering, judgmental, and extremely unfriendly look. The way this guy looked at her, it made her feel very selfconscious, very uncomfortable. She did the only thing she could do, and that was look straight back at him, and judge him. Mary found her ‘bite me’ face and presented it to him. Take that, asshole. She could still channel a pissed off teenager when necessary, and right now it wasn’t much of a reach.
The servant, who Mary assumed was in charge of something, had that haughty expectation of absolute obedience by his underlings. He came to her as she stood in the corner of the stable, in semi-darkness from the few lanterns. He drew up before her, with several female underlings in tow, and looked down his lumpy outsized nose. “My name is Jacob Maximilian Hofer. I'm in charge of this residence. And you. You are this up-timer woman…” and as he said the word “woman” in his peculiar Tyrolean accent, he turned to the group of servants behind him and laughed a little. “…this woman who has come to us from Grantville. The future.” The way he said the word “future ”, made it sound like a lie. “We were not prepared for your arrival, you know?” His eyebrows were accusatory and expectant, informing her, in a none too subtle manner, that her apology was expected and awaited.
Mary’s first impulse was not to apologize to this creep. “Looks like this whole place is pretty well disorganized, then, isn’t it Jacob?”
The look on his face went very briefly to anger, and then back to officiousness. He smiled. Good teeth for a down-timer, but very bad breath. Mary noticed the young female servant behind Hofer backing up a half step, shrinking away from an anticipated explosion of temper. Hofer kept his composure. He nodded and turned to one of the girls standing behind him. “Take this person to the lower level guest room, where this person can rest from their journey.” Hofer turned back to Mary. “I am sure this will suit you perfectly, Mary. That is your name, isn’t it? Mary? Not Martin? Or Friedrich ?”
Mary gritted her teeth. Then smiled and shook her head. “Nope. Mary.”
“Very well. Your things will be sent to you. Show her to her room on the lower level.”
The servant, a young girl, looked at Hofer questioningly. “On… on the lower level, Sir?”
“Were you listening to me? I said the lower level guest room!”
The girl cowered. “Yes, Master Hofer.” She turned to Mary. “Please follow me.” They left the stables, and Mary followed. The girl led the way, and they were followed by two male servants behind. She went through a set of small doors that led into a hallway, and then down a set of narrow stone stairs. It instantly felt colder and damp. The stone hallway was clean, and only illuminated by the candle the servant was carrying. They came to a rough wooden door, which was opened by one of the male servants. The girl stepped to the side, and gestured for Mary to enter. As Mary went through the doorway, the girl refused eye contact, keeping her eyes firmly to the ground. Mary walked slowly into the dark room, turned to look for the servants behind her, and was greeted with the door closing firmly in her face. The room was pitch dark except for the candle light that came through the barred opening in the door. She heard the bolt thrown on the door, and saw the candle retreat down the hallway.
“Excuse me? Can I have a candle please?” The hallway turned darker as the candle retreated, until she was left in total darkness. “Hey! Candle?” She heard the door close at the end of the hall. Mary felt in her pockets for her lighter, another gift from her father when she shipped out to the army. The old Zippo was a gift to her that was far more practical than the .32 ever was, and she never went anywhere without it. One thing about down-time, it was always dark. She flicked the lighter open, struck it, and held the flame in front of her. The room was little more than six feet square, with a wooden pallet for a bed, a bucket, and some spider webs. She tried the door and found it bolted from the outside.
Incredulous, she looked around the cell again. She called it a cell because that’s what it was, a damn holding cell. She replayed the afternoon’s events. She was exhausted. She was angry, more than she had been in a long time. She felt pangs of loneliness. And then, fear. Nobody knew she was here. Nobody even knew that she had arrived safely. Was she a prisoner? Why? She got up and kicked the door. “Hey! I’ve got a damn contract here!”
The hallway was dark and empty, no candles left burning. Despite the castle being full of people, she could hear nothing down here. She assumed they could not hear her either. And who the hell was that woman in the stables?
Everything was so foreign. She knew the language was different, knew she would be facing some sort of a language barrier, especially with the locals. She knew that from the briefings, as hasty as they had been, but she was now faced with internalizing the reality.
Briefings are one thing. The reality is just that. The reality. And the reality? She had nobody here. No other up-timers, no other modern thinking people, no command structure, nothing. She had maybe three weeks of so-called training to prepare her, and that was mostly on how to encode letters. There was nothing to prepare her for this kind of shit. She was utterly alone. She might have well as gone to Mars as Tyrol. She tried to understand why they locked her up. Why was she put here? Why was that woman so angry? Well, she did try and shoot that arrogant young Count, but that had been self-defense. Probably. Down-time justice wasn’t known for its impartiality, particularly when it came to people with a suffix in front of their name. Like ‘Count’ Johann-pissy-pants. And where was the guy in charge? Georg Fugger? Did she overhear that he was in Innsbruck? Is that why she was locked up? Was she going to be some sort of hostage?
Mary paced the small cell. And paced some more. The lighter was growing too hot to hold, so she extinguished it out to let it cool. There was absolutely no light at all. Tomb like, was the thought that came to her mind. Up to that point she had been, she thought, reasonably calm. Rational. But the darkness allowed panic to creep into her thoughts. She fought it. Found herself breathing rapidly, and went to light the lighter again. It burned her fingers, it was still so hot. She pulled her fingers back, popped them in her mouth, and started to cry.
Chapter 6 Welcome to Schloss Tratzberg
The next morning.
Sybilla Fugger looked at the two men standing before her in her elegantly appointed chambers, and smiled. Sybilla understood people, far better than her peers. She understood relationships. Men? Pah! Those creatures, simple things that they are, she understood very well. She knew how to use that understanding to further her goals. Play them like a fine musical instrument. She smiled again, inwardly this time. She didn’t want to be perceived as being too smug. But still, she was clever. Sometimes a curse, but mostly a blessing, especially when things needed to be done. And today, things needed to be done. “I want her kept under lock and key until the Count comes back from Innsbruck. She is obviously dangerous. Trying to kill my cousin, fighting soldiers in the trees, actin
g like a common criminal. Dangerous.” She flipped her long dark hair to the side and stood with her hand on her hip, emphasizing her point with a carefully crafted single raised eyebrow.
Friedrich Stadelmeier, the head of security for the family, and Jacob Hofer, the house manager, had been summoned to her. Stadelmeier, the soldier, simply looked stoic. Sybilla knew he would follow orders, if the orders were sufficiently framed. That’s what the man did. She turned her focus to Hofer. He was a little more complex. As the head of the servants in the household, he typically reported to the wife of the Count, Anna Maria von Toerring. Countess Anna Maria was away with her husband in Innsbruck. Sybilla wasn’t technically in charge, but someone had to make a decision, and since nobody seemed to want to, or was capable of making one, she did. Someone had to. Lord knows the Count’s brother couldn’t make a decision if his life depended on it, the fat idiot. And he lived down in the valley, in the town of Schwaz, not in the castle. No, Hofer would be the one to…
“Your Grace,” Hofer interrupted her thoughts. “Shouldn’t we send word to your Uncle Hieronymus, in the valley? It seems he would be the one, in his brother’s absence, to make these sorts of decisions?”
“Do you mean to tell me that you haven’t done so yet, Hofer? Why not?” Sybilla smiled her very well-known, “I’m starting to get angry, and you won’t like it when I’m angry”, smile at him.
“Your Grace, you asked me not to send a messenger last night.”
“I don’t recall that. You must be mistaken. Well then. By all means, send for him.” She continued to smile firmly, and thought, “but by the time Hieronymus gets his lazy backside up the hill, it will be late this afternoon, most certainly.”
“Yes, Your Grace. I will send a messenger right away.”
“There is no rush, Hofer.” She flashed her smile again, and watched his reactions. Hofer was good. He had been house manager here for as long as Sybilla could remember, and his instincts for political survival were highly attuned to the large and dynamic household that was Schloss Tratzberg. He responded by nodding discreetly, if a little reluctantly.
“As you wish.”
There was a knock on her door, and both men turned. Sybilla sighed. “Come in.” Regina Fugger opened the door. Sybilla sighed again, gritting her teeth into a smile. “Yes, Aunt Regina? What do you want?” Where Sybilla was a young and pretty woman - she had been told so on many occasions - Regina was a past middle aged widow, who lived in the castle by the good grace of Sybilla’s uncle, the Count. Regina had married outside the family, and her husband died before Sybilla had been born. She had never remarried, living in relative isolation in the castle ever since. Which Sybilla had always thought odd.
“I’m glad that you two are here.” Regina nodded to the two men. “I understand our new guest is being held in the cellar?” Sybilla watched as Regina gazed with concern at the two men, and then to Sybilla. “Is this what my brother the Count would want, do you think?”
Both of the men looked at Sybilla, awaiting an answer. Sybilla simply stared at Stadelmeier, who after a moment, figured out what she wanted him to say. Sybilla judged him to be a bit dim. He cleared his throat and began to speak. “Madame Regina. We are doing what we feel is in the best interests of the safety of the family. This is a very unusual situation, one that we have no precedent for. We cannot simply let some wild woman, dressed like a barbarian, and waving a weapon around, have unfettered access to the castle.” Stadelmeier glanced at Sybilla, and she gave him a small approving look. He nodded in acknowledgement.
Sybilla looked at Hofer. He should be able to figure out what to say. She slightly raised an eyebrow in encouragement.
“It isn’t prudent,” added Hofer, turning to meet Regina’s gaze.
Regina’s face soured, ever so slightly, in her very polite manner. She continued with controlled and exaggerated patience. “I understand our welcoming committee ran her down with cavalry, and then brought her here at gunpoint. This girl is to be our guest, not a prisoner. I spoke with my brother several times about bringing her to the schloss, and this is not sending--”
“--I don’t care what kind of message is sent, Regina,” said Sybilla, interrupting her. “She is a threat. Everything about her is a threat. She is an up-timer, which many in our faith profess to be a demon. We know demons walk the earth, don’t we Regina?” Sybilla quickly crossed herself. “These up-timers, with their dammed Swede, are everything we hate. I don’t even know why she is here, why Uncle even agreed to bring her. You know as well as I do the rest of the family in Augsburg didn’t want her, didn’t want to bring this up-timer to our home.”
Regina held up her hand, and sighed a small sigh. “Sybilla. We are not here to debate. The decision to bring her here has been made. She is here. She arrived early, and we failed her. Failed to meet her at the flying machine. Which I would have liked to have seen. We failed her when we hunted her down like a wild dog.” Regina gave a slightly accusatory look at Stadelmeier. “Failed her, because we locked her up last night.”
“What would you have us do, Regina? Let her run about? Give her full access to the castle and grounds? Don’t you think that’s foolish?” Sybilla looked at Stadelmeier and Hofer expecting reinforcement. Both men took an interest in staring at the ceiling. “Really.” Sybilla placed her hands on her hips and glared at the room in general.
“Have we sent word to Hieronymus?” Regina looked at Hofer, then at Sybilla.
“Hofer will send someone right away. I was just telling him he should have sent someone last night.” Sybilla glared at Hofer, and he looked appropriately chastised. Good man.
Hofer nodded slightly. “If I may be dismissed?” Hofer looked at Sybilla and then to Regina.
“Yes, of course. Please see to it.” Sybilla waved her hand, not bothering to see if she was obeyed. Both men bowed and left the room, gently closing the door behind them. Sybilla and Regina looked at each other for a moment…
“Regina—”
“Sybilla—”
Both of them smiled. Why can’t that woman just mind her own business? thought Sybilla, underneath her smile.
“You know this should be Hieronymus’ decision, with the count in Innsbruck, don’t you Sybilla? It’s not your place.”
“Leave that to me, Regina.” She made a dismissive gesture. “He is at least three hours away, assuming he would even get up on a horse; you know he is rather large.” Sybilla allowed herself a moment of pleasure imagining her rotund artist uncle climbing on a horse.
Regina folded her hands in the way she always did, in front of her, and it irritated Sybilla. It meant a lecture was coming. Not that Regina lectured often to the younger girls, but it was to be a lecture none the less. She started in her calm voice. “You misunderstand me, Sybilla. It is not your place to treat her harshly. I do not want you in trouble with the Count, he won’t take kindly to this sort of a treatment of the up-timer.”
“She isn't the up-timer; she is my up-timer, or rather our up-timer, I suppose. She’s the family’s up-timer. She belongs to all of us. So why shouldn’t I do what I see fit? Nobody else was making a decision.”
“I don’t think you gave anyone time to do anything else, Sybilla.”
“Well, I’m decisive. We didn’t want to be standing around all night, now did we?” She raised her eyebrow in a challenge.
“This isn’t getting us anywhere. Sybilla, please, think of what your uncle, the Count, will say if you are rude to our guest. She’s had a rather difficult time of it...”
“Enough Regina. I’ve had a difficult time too!” Sybilla felt her control slipping, more then she desired. She did not like to lose control, and this was getting close. “All because of them, because of those… those devil people. As has my father, and the rest of this family. They are evil, Regina. I’ve no use for these up-timers who kill Catholics with the Vasa monster. They should not be here!”
Regina looked at her, shocked. “Sybilla, this girl—”
“This girl who acts like a man?”
“Sybilla, there is nothing we can do about the past.”
“No, but I can do something about the present, Regina. And I intend to.” She gave Regina her best icy stare.
Regina sighed, but blinked first. “Your brother Johann feels rather badly about hurting her in the woods yesterday.”
“Then he is an idiot.”
“Enough, Sybilla!” Sybilla felt the surprise on her face. She couldn’t remember Regina ever raising her voice. Sybilla waited, a bit taken aback, while Regina gathered herself. “I am protecting you from yourself. Give her my room if needed, I will watch over her, in case she tries to slip out and murder us all in our sleep with some sort of magic from the future. Or maybe she will try to cast us back into the past with a demon’s spell?” Regina was clearly frustrated, her remarks sarcastic. Sybilla reflexively crossed herself. Regina changed her tone. “But it’s much too late to argue about it now. She is here. It has been decided, by the family and by the Count, and there is nothing you can do to change it.”
Chapter 7 Dress the Part
Hofer, or as he again introduced himself, Jacob Maximilian Hofer, emphasis on the Maximilian, looked down his lumpy nose at Mary once again. He had a couple of servants following him into her cell.
“This is not acceptable dress for what you must do here. We must find you clothing that is a little less, well, less male, for one thing. And fitting your station. This…” he waved his hands in her general direction. “This is not acceptable at all.” He was bald, skinny, and officious as a hall monitor at the high school, back before the Ring of Fire. She didn’t like him at all. Nope. Not at all. But there were a lot of things she didn’t like in the world, and in the time she spent in the dark, in the basement of the castle, she had time to think.
Up-Time Pride and Down-Time Prejudice Page 6