Up-Time Pride and Down-Time Prejudice

by Mark H. Huston

  Johann Franz looked at the man carefully. “I do not believe we have met previously, Herr Hocholting.” Johann bowed professionally to the man, and the man returned the greeting.

  “Ernst Hocholting, at your service, Count. We have not met.”

  Mary sensed a tension between them that she couldn’t put her finger on. She jumped in to try and diffuse it a little. “Herr Hocholting was telling me he is in the mining equipment business, and was looking for some assistance with dewatering equipment.”

  Johann simply looked at the man. “I see.”

  The man tugged at his doublet, pulling it down to clean up the lines, even though it was cut perfectly to his slender form. Mary had a fleeting thought that he wore his clothes so well, he could have been a model back up time.

  Herr Hocholting had picked up on the negative vibe as well. He turned to Mary first and bowed to take his leave. “Mary Russo von Uptime, this has been a pleasure.” He then bowed rigidly to Johann. “Count,” was his succinct good bye.

  Johann frowned after him, then turned to Mary. “Did he say how he got into the ball?”

  “Your uncle Hieronymus invited him, said he met him in Schwaz. Why do you ask?”

  He sighed. “The Fugger are often, shall we say, pursued in one way or another. There are a lot of people who want to make a fortune by taking from us, or by selling to us. They look for an opening or an advantage, and they are not always scrupulous.” He shrugged and continued. “My uncle Hieronymus isn't the best judge of character when it comes to these things, and he can sometimes be influenced by those who want to, well, lets just say ‘have access’ to the family. Herr Hocholting appears to possibly be one of those people.”

  “I see,” said Mary with a nod. “It’s odd though. I offered to send him some information, and he bolted out of here before telling me where to send it.”

  Mary could see the wheels turning behind Johann’s eyes. Rather nice eyes. “We will have to keep a watch on Herr Hocholting,” he said. His eyes lost their softness, then returned to a smile. “Would you care to try another dance, after you have had your wine?”

  They danced a couple more times as the evening progressed, and Johann stopped making fun of her counting. He was still smiling at her lack of competence, but not cruelly. It looked like he enjoyed watching her struggle. Mary felt brave enough to dance with other young men, and apparently Johann warned them that Mary was not particularly good at conversation while dancing, and they didn’t try and chat incessantly the whole time. His cousin Leonhard also danced with her. Johann was a better dancer, she decided.

  Night had fully fallen, and the room was lit entirely by candles. They cast a soft golden glow over the space, and created a mood that Mary decided was just right. She could not imagine the same dance with harsh fluorescent up-time lighting, or even fancy dim stage-type lighting. The candlelight made the room elegant, and somehow more vivid, despite the low light levels. The Hapsburg family tree, painted on the walls, seemed to come alive and dance too, as the shadows cast from the candles shifted and wavered, gently blown by the swirling dresses, and helped by the cool night breeze from the open windows. She thought the orchestra simply wouldn’t sound right if the room were illuminated by anything other than candlelight.

  After about the fifth or sixth time she danced, there were several repeats that she knew, thank heavens, Mary was feeling a lot more comfortable. Obviously she didn’t dance every dance, she only knew three well enough, so she sat out most of them. She was still frazzled, and had to fight off fatigue as a result of the stress of not only the last four hours, but the last four weeks, all of which culminated in this evening. She was going to be glad to get back to her routine.

  Towards the end of the evening, The Count danced first with his wife, and then he invited Mary to dance with him. She had gotten a heads-up from Regina he might do this, who coached her. There were lots of oooh’s and ahhhh’s from the crowd when he came up to her and formally asked her to dance. He picked a simple country dance, which she was able to do fairly well, and they took to the floor. Mary had the presence to curtsey to the countess as they went by, and she was astounded when there was a smattering of applause. At first Mary had no idea what people were clapping about. She then realized they misunderstood she was asking permission. She just figured it was polite to check in with the wife if you're going to dance with the boss, especially if you're the foreign help, and a million miles from home. Seemed like good policy.

  As they danced, Sybilla and Franz joined them. And, as usual, Sybilla glared at Mary. She was subtle about it, so it wasn’t obvious to everyone, but Mary felt it just the same. Franz was just indifferent. As Sybilla and Mary came together at one point, Mary could feel the tension coming from the other girl. Like most people, Mary was a social creature, and when someone clearly didn’t like her, she wasn’t the sort who could completely ignore those feelings. It bothered her. Sort of like an itch she couldn’t scratch. She was pretty sure it wasn’t anything she had done. Sybilla was hateful as soon as they met, manipulating Mary into the cell on her first night at the castle. But the dance floor was not the place it was going to be sorted out, so Mary simply smiled a brittle smile, with enough sincerity to leave a little room for negotiation, if the other party was so inclined. What else could she do?

  After the dance with the Count, things began to wind down. The orchestra started playing a little quieter, and all of the guys playing brass put their instruments carefully into their bags and carrying cases. The two rude friends of Franz had stopped her on her way off the dance floor, and they tried to ask her to dance, properly this time. Mary, quite properly and politely refused, pleading tiredness. Which was true, she was tired. This time, they accepted the refusal, and slunk off to a dark corner where the candles were dying.

  Relieved, Mary sat down in her spot in the alcove, and let the cool evening air wash over her from the open window. She could see now why those hand held fans had come into fashion. A hundred or more people in a stone room with minimal ventilation made folding fans an excellent fashion accessory. She thought about Johann. The man was frustrating. One moment he could be pleasant and warm, the next rigid to the point of ugliness. She wondered what it was that caused the struggle within him, why he would switch from count pissy-pants in one moment, to someone who seemed to be a decent human being the next. Someone you could talk to. That would be nice. She sighed, as Regina slid into the seat next to her.

  “I don’t know about you, child, but my feet are about done for,” she said, putting her legs straight out in front of her. Mary could see her wiggle her toes in her slippers, beneath her gown. “I can’t wait to get these off my feet.”

  Mary spied an older gentlemen across the room, sipping wine with a couple of younger men. “So, who is he?”

  Regina looked innocent. “Who is who?”

  Mary felt her eyebrows raise in mock disbelief. “Don’t play coy with me, Regina. The man you were dancing with this evening? Good dancer? Rather nice looking, grey hair, mustache. A little old for my taste, but…?”

  Regina put her feet back down, and smiled. “That’s Count Rudolph von Laban. From Pressburg by way of Vienna. We have known each other for years. We are friends.” Mary raised one eyebrow accusingly. Regina shook her head. “Just friends,” she said with finality. “He is a widower, and has lands in Hungary, and all the commitments that entails. When we get together at these things a few times each year, we dance, and talk. We talk about all kinds of things, but mostly about our spouses.”

  “I see,” said Mary. “How long has it been since your Felix died?”

  “More than twenty years, and there is not a day that goes by that I don’t think of him. I still miss him.” She could see Regina’s bright green eyes begin to tear up, ever so slightly.

  “It sounds like you were very fortunate,” replied Mary, as gently as she could.

  Regina produced a lace handkerchief from her dress and dabbed her eyes. She brightened and straighte
ned up in her seat. “Yes I was, my dear. Yes I was.” She turned to Mary, and grabbed her hand in both of hers. She looked hopeful. “What about you? Did anyone strike your fancy here tonight?”

  Mary snorted a half laugh. “Me? No, Regina. There is nobody here for me. Heck, these are all Counts and Princes, and Ambassador’s sons, and folks that are out of my reach. Who in this crowd would want to get married to an up-time girl with no dowry and none of the proper lineage and family? It would be social suicide for someone. I’m no expert on down-time marriage, but I've learned enough to know that.”

  Regina shook her head. “That is not what I asked you. I wasn’t suggesting you should be looking for a husband – although that is not a bad suggestion.” She looked at Mary with raised eyebrows. “I was asking if anyone struck your fancy. You are an attractive young lady, the dress most assuredly helps. You were noticed by many young men. Don’t tell me you didn’t notice.”

  Mary could feel herself turning red with embarrassment. She had noticed the male of the species noticing her. How could she not? Some of it was quite obvious. That was the point of an affair like this, after all. Noticing. For the most part Mary didn’t like being the center of attention, and to have it pointed out to her by Regina was embarrassing. Which made her blush some more. Regina caught her blush, and Mary looked at the ceiling in defense. “Okay, yes. I noticed them noticing me.”

  “Aaaand?”

  “And yes, I noticed some of them too.”

  Regina rubbed her hands together and looked at Mary eagerly. “Now we are getting somewhere. Anyone in particular? You did dance with Johann Franz the most….” She dangled the end of the sentence in front of Mary like bait. She didn’t take it.

  “What are you, a matchmaker?” Mary asked, half serious.

  Regina smiled slyly. “I have been known to sometimes to help young people get to know each other, it is a talent of mine. I compare matches, the advantages and disadvantages, impact of inherited lands, pedigrees, and finally I make sure they are compatible.” She looked at Mary with a particular intensity.

  Mary laughed. “Compatible, that’s funny. I thought marriage for you people was a business transaction. Settling of accounts, balance sheets, gains, losses, advantages. And you want to convince me that compatibility is a concern?” Mary wasn’t sure if she should laugh again or just sigh. It had been a long day, very long. She settled on slightly aggressive. Because she was tired of being perfect for just a moment. “Forgive me Regina, but I don’t see where compatibility comes into down-time marriage, especially for you people. The Fugger. You guys are nobility. And in those cases where you are not, you are richer than the nobility, heck, richer than many kingdoms. I mean, kingdoms come to you guys for their money. And if there is one thing I've seen, it’s that compatibility is way down on the list of things that are important in a match down-time.”

  Regina sighed. “Mary.” Her tone was patient, with an edge of frustration. She folded her hands in her lap, and looked straight ahead, her eyes seeming to take in the dancers still in the center of the room, and the swirl of colors. “Much of what you say is frankly true,” she began. “When the stakes are high, care must be taken. The potential for loss to property, position, and to the people who are in our care are too great. But people must still at least tolerate each other, respect each other. If not the person, then the position they occupy within a marriage.” She pointed towards the Count and Countess with her chin. “Don’t you think they are compatible? They have a happy and highly functional marriage.”

  Mary watched the Count and Countess across the room, standing next to each other, and flanked by their own set of servants. To Mary’s eye, they looked like a couple, at least in public. But Mary knew they had separate quarters in the Schloss, and did not share a bed. The Countess had her duties, and what they were Mary didn’t fully understand, and the Count had his. At least Mary knew some of what he did, she was involved in a lot of it. But they appeared to be two separate entities, each in their own ‘sphere of influence’, recalling a social studies lesson from before the Ring of Fire. Spheres of influence. It wasn’t what she thought of as a marriage, but it was obviously working it out okay for them. She had seen enough unhappy marriages growing up in her small town to know what that looked like. Mary begrudgingly came to a conclusion. “I suppose they are compatible. They each have a job, each have their own area of tasks in the marriage, although I confess I don’t know what the Countess does. Hofer practically runs the Schloss. But they have their, I dunno, balance I guess.” She shrugged.

  “Balance. I like that word in this context Mary. There is an impending marriage that I don’t see being as happy as the Count and the Countess. No balance at all.”

  Mary had two thoughts. The first was who was getting married, the second was that she wouldn’t necessarily call the Count and Countess happily married, maybe just a good partnership. They seemed to like each other well enough, tolerate each other well enough, but there wasn’t that special spark that she saw with her parents’ marriage. There was a way that people looked at each other, a way that people touched each other, that lets you know that they actually love each other. Even if they were mad, or fighting, she could tell that her parents were still in love with each other. Mary could not see anything like that with the Count and Countess. Maybe it was cultural, maybe it was the formality, but she didn’t think they loved each other. Respect for skills, like a business partnership, maybe. But beyond that, she wasn’t sure. Regina was looking at her, and Mary realized she was staring off while thinking. She must be more tired than she thought if she was spacing out like this. Or she had more wine than she thought she did.

  “Sorry Regina. Who is getting married?” asked Mary as she rubbed her nose.

  “You need to get out of your classroom more often, Mary. Maximilian of Bavaria is wedding Archduchess Maria Anna, one of the daughters of the Emperor. The wedding is less than two weeks away. Many of us are going, leaving soon, but because it is in Munich, we do not think it’s a good idea for you to attend us there. It could potentially be awkward. Bavaria is an awkward place since Elizabeth, the Electress Consort of Bavaria died. But as for compatibility? I do not see it as a good match. It’s a good match politically, and a good match for the Fugger, good for the Hapsburgs, but as for the Archduchess, who I have met on occasion, I do not see it as a happy match.”

  “Why do you say that? I mean, if it is a good business arrangement, and good for the family, then why not? With people of that rank, compatibility really doesn’t mean anything, does it?” A servant came by with some chilled dessert wine, which Mary found she had developed a taste for since she had it the first time at the Schloss. She smiled as she took it from the kitchen servant, nodding her thanks. She recognized the girl from the kitchen. Regina took one of the small glasses too, and ignored the servant. They sipped their drinks.

  Regina continued, calmly explaining to Mary. “It’s really very simple. If there is a companionable marriage of the rulers, and this is true if it is the Holy Roman Emperor or the Count here at Schloss Tratzberg, then the lands will be more prosperous, more at peace. Conversely, if the rulers are not properly matched, then the lands will suffer. Alliances will suffer. The nobility will suffer. So the best matches are ones that are companionable as well as positive for all parties.”

  Mary smiled and put down her wine glass on the window ledge behind her. “Do you know today’s date, Regina?”

  “Of course. This ball has been planned for weeks. It is July fourth.” She had a puzzled look on her face.

  “In my world this was a national holiday. The day America tossed the King of England, and all of the things associated with it, including whether the match of the ruler was a good one, out into the street. Like a chamber pot in the village. They said the reasons for it were self evident. You should read about it sometime.” She rose, wished her a pleasant evening, and left Regina sitting on the bench.

  Chapter 18 The After Party

&n
bsp; Mary was tired. Tired of smiling, tired of dancing, just tired of being on her feet. It had to be close to midnight, and the dance would be ending soon. She paused by the Count and the Countess, and thanked them again for everything. And she meant it. The dress, the lessons, the magic of the ball itself, to experience it was a joy. She demurred more offers to dance as she made her way to the door, and finally, as the door closed behind her in the corridor, she allowed herself to relax. She made her way towards her room on the other side of the Schloss, and two stories up. There was an open gallery that functioned as an exterior hallway, dimly lit by a torch attached to the wall at the far end, and in that darkness, Mary paused for a moment, alone. She leaned against the wall, letting the tension out of her back and shoulders, the earthly chill of the stone soaking through her dress. She allowed the night air to cool her. Inhaling deeply, she was able to smell the roses in the courtyard below, mixed with the cool pine smell of the mountain. She was very pleased with the evening, and happy, as her brain began to wind down. She realized she was a little saddened there was nobody to share the experience with. She remembered her homecoming dance, where she talked to her mother for hours afterwards, describing the dance, the stupid boys, the music. She was going to have to write a very long letter home. The loneliness was something that she was not used to, and she knew it was wearing on her. In high school, the brief time she spent in basic training, and even the short time she spent in Wurzburg, she had up-time friends, but here, there was really no one. Regina was nice, but she was older. She couldn’t really relate to her chambermaid, and certainly couldn’t confide in her, or anyone else for that matter. She hardly had a chance to see Raphael. Mary rested her head against the stone of the wall, and closed her eyes. The coolness of the hard stone felt good against the back of her head. She didn’t hear the boys approach.

  “Hey, up-timer. You waiting for us, are you?”