Up-Time Pride and Down-Time Prejudice
Page 25
“And you are here to prepare me for what is coming, Mary?” Sybilla looked at Mary, fire now in her eyes, her façade showing cracks of anger for the first time.
Mary knew she had to proceed cautiously. She didn’t want Sybilla to walk out, issues unresolved. “I want to solve this thing between us, Sybilla. I don’t want to be your enemy.”
Sybilla looked at her, surprised. She leaned back into her own couch, and began to laugh. She started quietly at first, and then it grew to a giggle, before she regained control. “My God!” she took a breath as a handkerchief appeared. She dabbed at the corners of her eyes. “You are serious, aren’t you? You really believe you are just some girl who is teaching your betters. People have told me that is what you believe, but I could not fully understand it until just now. It’s so bizarre. You actually believe that is all that you are? Some bright peasant from some mythical future world, here to enlighten the poor down-timers?”
Mary didn’t agree with her description as a peasant, however bright, but the gist of what Sybilla was saying was pretty much correct. She let it go, and simply said, “Yes.”
“You believe that is all that you are?”
“That is all that I am.” Mary could not figure out what Sybilla was talking about, and she wondered if the girl was about to pull something again, accuse her of witchcraft, or suddenly call in her footmen. Mary braced herself.
Sybilla leaned forward and perched on the end of her couch. Eyes focused and sharp. “My world is under attack. It was under attack before you arrived, but we were winning. With your arrival, with your clever devices, and future ‘histories’, it has turned around completely. My world began to fracture at Alte Veste with my brother’s murder, and has continued since then.” She began to count on her fingers, her voice rising and full of pain. “My brother is dead, my sister-in-law is a widow, my marriage options are limited, the daughter of the Holy Roman Emperor is missing with an up-timer known to be responsible, my cousin is held by Maximilian of Bavaria and is likely to be executed, Maximilian has lost his grip on reality, the Catholic church is barely holding itself together, and you think the only reason you are here is to fulfill some kind of employment contract!?” She suddenly stood up, and paced to the fireplace, agitated, fighting for control of her anguish, shaking her head. She wheeled on Mary. “Your world is ascendant, mine is waning and you are blissfully walking about here thinking that we should be friends, when you are the demonic cause of everything evil that has happened.” She stood, fists balled at her sides, her body rigid, glaring at Mary.
Mary was taken aback by the pain that Sybilla displayed. Part of her brain, but only a small part, didn’t believe it. There had been so many lies with this girl, and so there was one small but loudly suspicious part of her brain that didn’t believe what she was hearing. But her heart told her the pain Sybilla was in was real. Mary stood, and looked at Sybilla. “You must have loved your brother very much.”
Sybilla’s eyes filled with tears. “He was the best of us. Strong. A natural leader. Brave. Smart. Kind, but not soft. He was destined to be great, among even us who are already great. Destroyed by a demon.”
“Do you really think that I am possessed by a demon?”
Sybilla looked at Mary carefully. She was shorter than Mary, but similar in build, with long dark hair. They might have been mistaken as cousins. Sybilla’s gaze was appraising. After a moment she spoke. “I was not sure of it until today, but I am now. And it makes sense. You believe you are what you are.”
Mary caught herself blinking and running the translation through to make sure she understood. “I’m not sure I understand, Sybilla. Why all this talk about demons? Up-time we didn’t put a lot of stock in—”
“—Because God would not do such a thing as break the universe!” Sybilla advanced on Mary, and she took a step back, caught off guard with her sudden verbal attack. “If this was a divine miracle, like many say, it would not happen this way. Only Satan could do this much damage, cause this much pain, and that makes you demonic. Maybe you are what you say you are, just peasants, regular tradesman and villagers. But how you got here, what you did, who you allied with, that makes you demons, demonic, evil, to be exterminated, fought, and stopped.” Sybilla was now in Mary’s face, pointing her finger.
Mary took another step back, and Sybilla made the sign of the cross. “I know in my heart that you have the blood of Satan upon you. I know, that you have arrived by an act of Satan himself.” She crossed herself again. “I know, in my heart, that whoever was delivered here by this Ring of Fire, the Ring of Hell Fire, is also a minion of Satan, whether witting or no. And if you are unwitting, then you still must be resisted, or destroyed.” She paused again, and looked straight at Mary, defiant. “Without regret.”
Mary placed her hand against the cool stone of the fireplace mantle. She had a fleeting glimpse of Johann doing the same thing a few days before, upstairs in the Hapsburg room. She knew Sybilla was adamant, but she had failed to understand the depths of her prejudice. It was far more than just a dead brother. Mary represented a threat to her core. She tried one last time, carefully modulating her voice to be as calm and peaceful as she could. She opened her arms to the girl, entreating her to listen, holding out first one hand, then the other. “You say I must be either here because of divine miracle, or because of Satan’s treachery. What if, Sybilla, what if maybe it is neither? What if it simply is.”
“That cannot be.” Sybilla shook her head stiffly, body tense and rigid. “Cannot.”
Mary sighed. She had tried her best. Sybilla stood behind a door far too thick for Mary to ever break down. “Thank you for seeing me, Sybilla. I think we understand each other a little better now.”
Sybilla gave a little, tense nod of her head, and turned to leave. After taking two steps, she turned back to Mary. She smiled her Sybilla smile that Mary really wanted to punch. “Oh. And Mary. Keep away from Johann Franz. I don’t know what you have done to befuddle him so.” She sneered derisively. “There is no hope for a marriage between you and any member of this family. You were wise to reject his ham-handed proposal. That boy is a romantic fool sometimes.”
Mary was surprised by her anger, suddenly boiling to the surface. “I will decide who I marry. Not you,” she snapped.
Sybilla looked at her a moment, scoffed, and left the room.
Mary sat on the couch, exhausted by the effort, and replayed the conversation. Parts of it were surprising, parts of it went about as she expected. She had hoped for a better outcome, but realistically it was about as good as she was going to get. She did understand Sybilla better now, and no matter what happened between them, that information was always helpful. She had sort of figured that word had gotten out about Johann’s impromptu up-time style proposal to her; some of it was from picking up little bits of servant gossip and sideways glances.
But one thing that surprised her was how angry she was when Sybilla told her she couldn’t marry Johann. She needed time to think.
There was a knock on the door, and Maria her chambermaid eased into the room, bubbling with excitement.
“What is it, Maria? What’s happened?”
“Ach! They are back, Mistress. They are back!”
“Who’s back?”
The girl was jumping up and down, smiling like a loon. “The Count, the Countess, Regina, Stadelmeier, everyone is back!”
Mary stood. “And Johann?” She felt her heart race.
Maria smiled a different smile at Mary. “Oh yes, Johann is back too, Mistress.”
Chapter 22 Regina
Schloss Tratzberg
Early August 1634
Mary tapped lightly on the door to Regina’s chambers and waited for someone to answer.
Her cozy rooms were where Mary had spent her first real night in the castle — at least the one not spent in a cell— sleeping at the foot of Regina’s large bed on a pull-out pallet. A chambermaid had slept on the floor in front of the door. She had been grateful for th
at kindness from Regina ever since.
Mary acknowledged to herself that on some level Regina was sort of her surrogate mother while away from home. But Regina was very different from her mother. She was smarter for one thing. Worldlier for another. She could do things, like dance at a formal ball, which Mary’s mother never could. But she didn’t have the same capacity to love that Mary’s mother had. Mary knew it wasn’t just the fact Regina wasn’t her mother, and it wasn’t that she thought Regina couldn’t be loving to someone— she had been to her husband, after all— but there was always a wall where you could go no further with Regina. Always something held back, not committed fully. Mary’s mother, on the other hand, had no walls, and held nothing back when loving someone. Mary had thought about it a lot while Regina was imprisoned, and had missed Regina’s shoulder to lean on. Especially after Johann’s awkward proposal.
So, while they were close, there would always be a distance between them. Mary also understood that she could never freely talk to Regina about certain things, for fear of Mary revealing her information-gathering mission to the Fugger. And Mary suspected that Regina knew that. But. Regina was about as close as Mary had within the Fugger family to a friend, and she was fairly certain that Regina felt the same way. So it was with some trepidation that Mary was ushered into the room, where Regina lay in her bed, sitting with pillows propped up behind her, blankets partially pulled up, and in her sleeping garments. It was early afternoon, and the overcast day allowed sufficient light to stream in the windows without the need for candles.
The room was filled with stuff. Down-time decorating was generally busy and cluttered to Mary’s up-time sensibility, but this was overstuffed, in an almost Victorian way. Regina had moved out of a castle of her own at one time, and had tried to fit her household, or at least most of it, into her two rooms. Like the Countess, she had a sitting room and a sleeping chamber. But unlike the countess, there were paintings on nearly every square inch of wall space, and oversized furniture crowded in everywhere. Every level surface was covered with small paintings of buildings and portraits of family. Regina had two cats, who roamed freely in the space. It smelled of musty furniture, cats, and clean linen, in spite of the open windows and the threat of an autumn rain.
When Regina’s chambermaid ushered her into the cluttered space, Mary went immediately to Regina and took her hand. “I'm so happy that you're back!” Mary said.
Regina smiled widely at Mary. She looked tired, and older by more than a few years. Regina had always been a little plump, but her face was drawn and noticeably thinner, and it held more lines than Mary remembered. Mary focused and remembered to smile. Her face must have betrayed what she was seeing, because Regina’s smile faded a little, and her hand went to smooth her hair. “I look like an old cow, don’t I, Mary?”
Mary shook her head, disagreeing. “No, Regina. Not at all. Nothing that a little rest won’t fix.”
Regina continued to smooth her hair, and managed a rueful smile. “You're not a good liar, you know that don’t you?”
Mary laughed, nodded, and patted Regina’s hand. “I've been told that before.” There was a bit of an awkward pause as they continued to hold hands. “How are you, Regina?” Mary hesitated. “I don’t want to press you, and if you don’t want to talk about it, that’s okay. But I want you to know that I don’t think any up-timers were trying to mess with the wedding of Maria Anna and Maximilian. I've written several letters back home to everyone I know that might have some information on this thing, and nobody knows anything.” Mary shook her head. “Not that I'm connected to anyone particularly influential, but I know people who know people, and I asked if there was anything they could do to help. They were as mystified as everyone else about the whole affair.”
Regina got tears in her eyes. “Thank you, dear. I'm sure you tried to help.” Mary handed her a handkerchief. “Do you know Mary Simpson?” Regina motioned for Mary to sit while she dabbed at her eyes. “She is the up-timer who is supposed to have caused all of this.”
Mary positioned a side chair next to the bed so she could talk to Regina. “I met her one time, back in Grantville. She came to our school. My family didn’t support the Simpsons in the beginning, and didn’t have much to do with them. My father said he was - well, said he didn’t like him much.” She shrugged. “So, no. Don’t really know her.”
“I see. I don’t suppose it matters all that much.” She shifted slightly in her bed towards Mary, and caught the chambermaid’s eye. “You may leave us. Mary will be here with me for a while, she will call you when we are done.”
The chambermaid bobbed a curtsey, and eased out of the door, closing it behind her.
“So, what happened? I know almost nothing about what happened, or why you were taken, or what was done to rescue you,” Mary asked after a moment.
Regina sighed and turned to look out the window. “Remember the ball, where I spoke about compatibility, and how it was important?” Mary nodded, and Regina continued. “I really think that is what happened. You see, I don’t think that they were compatible, ultimately. I suspect Maria Anna knew that. There are certainly other factors involved, I'm sure. Such as the influence of Mrs. Simpson, and that other woman from Grantville, but I really believe that Maria Anna simply ran away from her responsibilities.”
“That seems odd, doesn’t it? I mean, it worked before, in my time. They got married, had children, she produced an heir. Even though an up-timer would consider it creepy to marry your uncle. I mean, Maximilian is Ferdinand’s brother, and that makes Maria Anna Maximilian’s niece. Definitely creepy back uptime.” She shrugged. “Hapsburgs. Intermarrying since the 1500s. But I guess she did her duty in that time line, her Hapsburg duty. They were compatible then.” Mary shook her head. “You think she ran away. Is it possible that someone kidnapped her?”
Regina shook her head slowly. “No. She ran away. It was planned. Some members of her household escaped with her, others she left behind. Like Polyxena…” Regina’s eyes started to tear again, and she shook her head angrily. She gathered herself and went on. “When I went to the court in Vienna for the first time, Polyxena took me under her wing. I was fairly sure it was because of who I am, a Fugger, but I needed someone who understood the court. Our family connections are very good there, but it was nice to have someone outside all of that. She was not the best choice for me, but I was younger then. She was ambitious, opinionated, and frankly not very bright. We would say that she doesn’t have all of her cups in the cupboard.” Regina smiled ruefully. “But she was somewhat popular at the time, and in spite of my slightly rebellious nature, I was a bit overwhelmed at the intensity of the court. She became my friend.”
“In Munich, I went to the house where Maria Anna and her household were staying. A rather nice home, somewhat plain, but large enough for their purposes. I went to see Polyxena. And if I am being honest with myself, I had hoped to see Maria Anna before the wedding as well. It was vanity on my part, using our rank and connections to visit that household.”
“I knew things were strained leading up to the wedding. There were indications, with Maria Anna not being as cooperative as she should be; subtle things. I put it down to a bit of a power play between Maximilian and Ferdinand. Maria Anna in the role of a willing bride, but not too willing, allowed her to retain a certain amount of power in her own court. It goes back to compatibility.” Mary nodded in agreement.
“So, I walked into the situation eyes open, but thinking it was just typical maneuvering. A bit more public and unsubtle than most, but still, no one expected what happened. Polyxena and I had a very nice visit, we chatted about her husband, about Maria Anna, small talk mostly. Unimportant things. She of course told me she was a deep and personal confidant of the Countess, and as usual that was just Polyxena doing her typical puffing-up of herself. I know her well enough to tell when she is bragging and when she isn’t. And since she almost always is bragging or embellishing, it isn’t hard. I knew something was wrong, someth
ing odd. In hindsight I should have seen it, but in the moment, you see little things, and you simply think nothing of them. The way some of the servants watched me, the way some of them whispered, the young man across the street obsessively fixing a gate that didn’t need that much fixing. All little things that you don’t notice in the moment. And afterwards, they take on significance. But I was too excited about the upcoming wedding, the pageantry and the plays, the parades, the church services and parties. It was the reason we were there, to celebrate, to have fun, to share in the joy of a wedding.”
“When Maximilian’s men came for me, I had no idea what it was about. We were staying at one of our town houses, the nice one near the library, which was almost all Fugger books, until Great Uncle Johann Jacob had to sell them all to Duke Albrecht about a hundred years ago. It’s a good location for Munich. So they came to the door in the early afternoon, banging loudly. There was nearly a fight right there in the courtyard, between our guards and Maximilian’s men. It got quite tense, in the street, men with swords drawn and lines formed. Stadelmeier was right in the middle of it, giant pistols drawn and ready to attack. So were the big Swedes of Imperial Count Johannes. It was nearly a battle in the middle of the street. Our lawyers were there right away, some were staying in the house - it was very crowded - and papers were exchanged. It was incredible. The papers called for my arrest and questioning in the kidnapping of Maria Anna of Austria. It was the first any of us had heard of it, of course. There were rumors all day, but nothing as wild as that! I tell you my heart dropped into my shoes. It was preposterous, of course, that I would be involved. After consultations, and with Maximilian’s troops surrounding the townhouse, and the other one we own on the same street, I offered to turn myself over. I knew I had done no wrong, and the lawyers and our Count,” she motioned towards the Schloss Tratzberg offices where Count George Fugger resided, “thought it was the best course of action to go with them and quickly resolve the matter. It wasn’t until after that we realized the City gates were closed. No way in or out of the city.”