Mary watched as Regina suppressed an eye roll, and met Mary’s smile with one of her own. She replied with courtesy. “How nice of you to say so, Signore DeFrancesco. How does the restoration progress? On schedule?”
Raphael straightened up from his bow. “Alas, Countess, I have discovered the mice have eaten much more of the bellows than we thought, they must all be replaced. It will damage our budget, I am afraid…” The face he made showing his sadness and the potential budget overage because of the mice, almost made Mary giggle. The exaggerated concern bordered on the comical, but Regina took it in stride.
“You know you must take these things up with Hieronymus.”
“Of course, Countess. But since you are close to your brother, I thought it would not hurt to mention it to you, in passing of course.”
“Of course,” Regina replied dryly. She turned to Leopold. “Hello, Leopold.” He came to her and bowed from the waist, and she replied with a brief curtsy, which then dissolved into a hug. She held him at arm’s length. “You seem to grow two inches every time I see you.”
Mary noticed again that Leopold didn’t make eye contact. She had requested information from Grantville shortly after she met Leopold for the first time. She knew a couple of kids in grade school that were diagnosed with various mental disabilities, and since the school district was small, those kids spent time in the same classrooms. He acted much like those kids from what her up-time school called ‘special-ed.’ She had sent off a note to one of her old high school teachers, asking for more information.
But for now, she needed to talk to Raphael in private and see if he had any news or instructions for her from Grantville. And apparently Raphael wanted to talk to her, too. He was rapidly thumbing through the articles that she had brought him. “Ah! Yes! This is very interesting.” He looked around the room, and settled his gaze on Regina. “Countess, may I have Mary for a moment? I want to show her something with the bellows from this article.” He waved the papers in front of them. “It will only take a moment. Leopold, you can stay here with the Countess, I am going down to the air chamber for the organ.”
Regina nodded her permission, and then caught the eye of the maid who was part of their escort. The maid was an older woman who directly served the Countess Anna Maria von Toerring. Regina subtly ordered the maid to accompany them with little more than a raised eyebrow and a nod, and the maid nodded in return. Mary was a bit surprised, but after a brief moment she thought it made sense. Raphael was somewhat notorious with the girls in town, and Regina was likely trying to protect her virtue. Or at least her reputation. Mary was able to protect her own virtue, thank you very much, and she trusted Raphael. It might make it harder to have a private conversation with Raphael, but the maids always kept a respectable distance.
Mary figured it was best to go along with it, so she smiled in thanks to Regina with a nod of her own, which in return got a pleasant nod of “I got what you are saying, and you're welcome, I got your back” look from Regina. As Mary turned to follow Raphael, she met the eyes of Father Huntsha, who nodded to her as well. The good Father was as observant and worldly-wise as he was enthusiastic about Vatican II, apparently.
Raphael was chattering on about bellows, and gesturing with the bundle of papers from Grantville as they made their way down to the small room that held the working parts of the organ. He was holding forth about rubber bellows from the article when he passed her a note, out of sight of the maid. As they ducked into the room, he kept up the chatter. “I want to show you the bellows and the pump we have. I'm sure there is something else from uptime we can use. Here, look closely where it connects, we need air to flow through here.” He crouched by the floor, inside the small room, and pointed to the floor beneath the mechanism. Mary had never seen the business end of a pipe organ before, and it looked fiendishly complex. It smelled of leather and rancid lubricating oil. There was a small lamp hanging inside the room for illumination. Raphael dropped his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “You are in danger, Mary. People are watching you, there is a group of men from Bavaria, and they have been asking about you. They are not good men. There are details as much as I know in the note. You must take care.” His voice increased in volume. “The air chamber is fed by the bellows, you see?”
Mary was frozen in place, her mind reeling. In danger? How? She looked at Raphael, confused. He pointed at the note in her hand, which she started to open. He shook his head no. She replied with questioning eyebrows in the dim light, frantic. He continued at full volume. “We use bellows to feed the air chamber, but I have heard of a type of fan that’s used in Magdeburg for the organ under construction there. Do you know what type of fan that is, Mary?” He pointed to the note again and encouraged her to say something, rolling his hands and raising his eyebrows.
Her brain started to work again. God I’m stupid sometimes. “Where-where d-does the air come in?”
He smiled in the smoky half darkness, waiting patiently while she caught up to him. “Right here, do you see?”
She tucked the note into her bodice. “Oh, yes. I see it now.” She nodded to him furiously.
He nodded to her with an air of exasperation. “Oh, good. I'm glad you do see.” He pointed to the floor. “That’s where it connects. Can you get something for that?”
“Mistress?” The maid poked her face into the room, and Mary jumped in surprise. The maids seldom came close. She was a severe looking woman, and the odd smells of the machinery made her face look even more severe as she reacted to the odors. She held a candle in front of her. “Would you like more light, Mistress?” The maid raised an eyebrow.
Mary just stood there, she was certain she had a guilty look on her face. She felt as if Miss Mailey, the high school social studies teacher, had just caught her under the bleachers with some boy. Which was sort of true-ish, in a way. “I-I, yes. Yes, that would be most helpful. Thank you.”
“Oh yes, most helpful,” echoed Raphael dryly. “Very helpful.”
They eventually made it to the dressmakers, after Raphael promised to make a sketch of the potential fan contraption he envisioned. Mary had to suppress an urge to try and sneak a look at the note while on her way, and once they arrived at the dressmakers, she had to perform a bit of sleight of hand as the dressmakers assistant started to take her clothes off for the fitting. She finally tucked the note into her shoe and resolved firmly to not look at it until she was back safely in her chambers.
The dressmaker was an ancient woman, who was missing all of her teeth, her right foot, and one eye. Her breath was as bold as a raw onion. The foot and the eye deficiencies apparently kept her from climbing the hill to the castle for a fitting, as was usually done. So the clients came to her. And when Mary saw the dress, she understood why.
It was made of blue satin-like material, and it shimmered like the surface of an alpine lake. The color was that of the clearest mountain sky, with delicate white embroidery throughout that gave the color depth and textures. The embroidery was of flowers like she had seen in the meadows when she first stepped off the plane. It had a matching shawl that she was able to wrap around herself, which she liked, as the front of the dress was cut down more than she was generally comfortable with. Mary had a fleeting thought of the girls at the prom who wore dresses that were way too low for them, and spent the entire evening tugging them up so as not to flash the entire school. But this dress had built-in stays and structure, so everything just sort of rested comfortably in place, without danger of exposure. And the wrap that went with it had a starchy ability to hold a form, so when it was placed just so, it framed her face, shoulders, and neckline.
Finally, Mary found herself completely assembled into the dress. Tugged here, pinned in there, adjusted and pulled and tucked, the fitting was complete. Regina and the dressmaker, along with the maid, stepped back. The assistant made some final adjustments, and she too stepped to the background. The one-eyed dressmaker, who Regina called Fraulein Mothwurth, and Regina stood together, s
urveying their handiwork. Mary stood up straighter, chin up as mother had always said, and looked back at the judges in front of her. She smiled, nervous on the inside, but the dress gave her confidence.
She felt like a Disney Princess.
Regina spoke first. “Oh, Fraulein Mothwurth. You have truly outdone yourself this time. This is…” Regina’s voice trailed off, awed.
“…Magnificent,” The old lady’s voice was frog like. “Magnificent is the word. If I do say so myself. And I do. This is some of my best work.” Fraulein Mothwurth shifted slightly, peering at Mary with her one good eye. “She has good bones. Tall. Color is good for her. She should always stand up that way. Slouching is not good.” Fraulein Mothwurth apparently was not shy about her opinions. She leaned against a table and gestured with her cane. “Slouching makes my clothes look not as good as they should. Make sure she stands up straight.”
Regina nodded in agreement. “This will do very nicely, Fraulein Mothwurth.”
When Mary got back to her room, and finally found herself alone, she sat at her small desk and opened the note from Raphael. Her fingers trembled as she unfolded the crumpled paper, damp and smelly from spending time in her shoe on the way back up the mountain. She smoothed it on the desk and moved the candle. There was no date or salutation on the paper, just a note.
Five men have come to Schwaz from Munich. They know there is an up-timer here. They know your name, and have a description. I have met two of them. They are rough men that do rough things. There is a leader who I do not know. I am looking for him.
The Fugger family has very good security. Trust them to keep you safe. When you are in the castle, you are safe. When outside the castle, make sure you stay near your protectors. Do not leave the castle alone, for any reason.
We do not know the motivations of these men, or what they seek, other than you. The Fugger have many enemies, these may be among them. I have let Grantville know of the situation, and I will continue to look for the leader of these rough men. Stay safe.
The letter was signed with only the letter “R”; flourishes and curly-ques of the single letter “R” took up about half the page. Mary smiled at that. A warning note written with a flourish. It was very Raphael.
Mary read it over twice, committing it to memory, and then burned it in the fireplace. After thinking about it for a while, it didn’t seem too scary. Nothing to panic over, certainly. Her briefings had told her that the Fugger had enemies, and there would be other people interested in what she was doing here. Her briefing team didn’t think there was any danger from Fugger rivals, or even danger from within the family itself, despite the internal divisions. She also couldn’t understand how somebody could think that she was important enough to send a team to this little town. There was a small part of her that felt flattered that someone would think she was that important. But at the same time it still creeped her out.
These guys didn’t sound like the sort that the inquisition would send. They would use, well, an official Inquisitor, who would work through the local church, or at least inform the priest the Fugger housed here at the castle for the family chapel. Plus, her employment agreement specifically protected her from the inquisition. She had attended Mass at the family chapel since arriving at Schloss Tratzberg, and had confessed to the Fugger priest more than once. He was a softie, with no penance required greater than a couple of Hail Marys. Apparently it helped to be a soft touch if you wanted to keep your job as a Fugger confessor. Not that she had anything much to confess, other than the occasional blaspheme. She had just got out of the Army, and cussing was a little bit of a hard habit to break.
As she poked at the ashes of the letter, making sure it was completely consumed, and began to relax. Within the walls of the castle she was safe. Everyone here was as solid as the castle itself. The danger was outside, if there was any danger at all. Maybe they just wanted to interview her for some reason. And when she was out of the castle, she always had security around. So, don’t panic, she told herself. Just pay attention. She went over to her locked trunk and took out the plastic case with the .38. She opened it, checked the revolver and the boxes of ammunition, put it back in the case, and then locked the whole thing away.
∞ ∞ ∞
Cecile Jeanne Garnier was the personal maid to Countess Anna Maria von Toerring. Cecile Jeanne had cousins who were in service as personal maids to Henrietta Maria, the English queen, who was also the sister of King Louis of France. Cecile Jeanne had cousins who served in the court of Louis of France, and cousins who served in the court of Claudia de Medici, the Regent of Tyrol. Cecile had been with the Countess Anna Maria von Toerring for thirty years. They had a depth of trust that was the result of half a lifetime spent working together. But Cecile Jeanne Garnier also knew her place. And that place was to speak when spoken to. So she waited quietly inside of the Countess’s chambers as she finished correspondence at her desk. The Countess’s chambers were two simple rooms. One was a sleeping chamber, the other a sitting room and an office for the Countess. Cecile stood in the doorway between them for the Countess to finish.
The Countess Anna Maria was a key member of the Fugger family. More than just the count’s wife, she had brought something else to the marriage agreement. She also brought her network. The Countess acted as a clearing house for local intelligence, and any data that would be either valuable, or a threat, to the Fugger family and interests here in the Inn Valley. She was what the up-timers would call an intelligence analyst, a job that had started with her first husband. It was one of the assets she brought to the marriage to the Fugger.
The countess finally completed her correspondence, tossed some sand over the paper to dry the ink, and then folded the paper, placing it in a pile on her desk. The metal-nib pen, an up-time design, returned neatly to the side, and the inkwell covered just-so with the lid. She compressed the pile of papers with her delicate hands, scooted her chair back from the desk, and turned to Cecile. “So, how was your trip to the dressmaker?” She folded her hands on her lap, and sat very erect in her chair, head turned to the side, her usual listening posture.
Cecile curtsied and approached. “We were followed, as you expected Mistress. Two men. From out of town. They were with us from the time we approached the bridge until we joined the road to the Schloss on our way back. They were experienced.” The countess nodded and gestured for Cecile to continue. “She met with Raphael in the church, he passed her a note, and they had a private conversation where he warned her about the arrival of the team from Munich.”
This got a smile from the countess and mock horror. “You were able to eavesdrop, Cecile? In church? Goodness!”
Cecile grinned back, feeling a little smug. “Mistress, please. I didn’t just start this job.” They both exchanged a pleasant and intimate look. Cecile had been hiding behind curtains and peering into keyholes for years for the Countess. “They ducked into a room that holds the machinery for the organ, and were out of sight. I took advantage of that to listen.”
“And the note?”
Cecile allowed her expression to move carefully, just a little, towards smugness once more. She was, after all, quite good at her job. “While Mary was changing dresses, I was able to get it out of her shoe and read it, I replaced it undetected. It was little more than what Raphael told her, with an emphasis on staying close to our security teams. He gave her good advice.” Cecile nodded, moderately impressed with what Raphael had told Mary in his note. “She is safe while in the Schloss, take care outside, don’t venture out alone.”
The Countess agreed. “Good advice for any time. Especially when there is a team with an unknown mission in town. Was there anyone you recognized among them, Cecile?”
“No, Mistress.” Cecile hesitated a moment.
The Countess was, as always, very observant. “What else?”
“It’s about Mary. We know she is a spy, at least supposed to be.” Cecile was usually very precise in her reports, but this was a little different. Sh
e hesitated again. The Countess tilted her head, encouraging her to continue speaking. Cecile plowed ahead, on the verge of blurting. “But Mistress she is easily the least competent spy I have ever seen. And I have seen quite a few over the years, mistress. As have you. Accomplished to inept, and everything in between. She is so poor at it, it’s almost comical.” Cecile shrugged, shaking her head. “She really doesn’t try and gather information, she simply does her assigned work, and it almost consumes her. She is very specific, working on problems and dealing with what is in front of her. Tasks. Her focus on doing her job, the job we hired her for, is single-minded. If there is any intelligence she has gathered, it’s what we have fed to her. With a spoon. Obviously I am not privy to her correspondence,” Cecile looked at the piles of paper on the Countess’s desk, “but I cannot imagine she is performing as her handlers hope.”
The Countess smiled at Cecile, nodding in an encouraging manner. “You are making the same assumption those in Augsburg are making. The same assumptions that many are making. Assumptions that we are trying to not make.”
Cecelia was confused. She thought for a moment. Thought about her assumptions. What do spies generally need, what is it they wanted? Rumors, facts, advantages, leverage, and occasionally to do physical damage, impede, or even kill. That’s what they want. That’s exactly, Cecile recognized, the things she protects against. Cecile made the logical leap. While not classically educated, she was intelligent, and her years of experience had honed her mind to clarify and deduce. So. What would Mary’s handlers want? From the Fugger? What if it were none of the typical things? What else could it be? What else would they want? Cecile felt her eyes go wide as it clicked for her. “Oh. Of course. They really don’t care about our 7yfacts, our information. It’s incidental to them. If she gets data to them it’s okay. If not, that’s okay too. They want her to do exactly what she is doing. Teaching. Bringing up-time ways, and up-time thought, to the Family.” She met the Countess’s eyes that were keenly peering at her, waiting for the conclusion. “She is doing exactly what her handlers want her to do. She is like a-a plague carrier. Of ideas, thought, technology. Spreading her up-time ways.”
Up-Time Pride and Down-Time Prejudice Page 16