“Johann, sometimes down-timers have a very strange sense of humor.” She tried the withering look again, but he was immune, simply grinning back.
Mary was enjoying a warm feeling, in spite of the cold. Mostly because of schnapps. Everyone had quite a lot of schnapps tonight. It seems that’s one of the things that makes a Krampus happy, and to make it leave you alone, you had to ply it with schnapps. So schnapps was quite freely passed around during the parade. There were toasts to Saint Nicholas too, when he came by, which was often. It was certainly going to hurt a little tomorrow, but for now, she was warm, her cheeks were bright red, and she was feeling little pain. And she had far, far less to drink than everyone around her. These folks were professional when it came to drinking schnapps, and a girl has got to know her limits.
Fortified, she enjoyed the brisk walk. They were on the way back to the Schloss for a late dinner in the great hall. The weather was cold but infinitely clear, and the visibility was such that Mary thought she could reach out and touch the stars. The castle in the snow looked like an illustration from a storybook, or a frame from a Disney movie. It was so clear, she could make out individual candles in the windows of the schloss, and the mountain behind it was visibly white in the moonlight, as the moon was just past full tonight. With the snow all around, it was bright enough to see without torches. Johann had taken a couple of steps ahead and began to speak quietly with Leonhard, leaving her to walk by herself and gawk at the view.
As she walked, she thought about the Krampus. She was pleased that she didn’t over-react to the shock. The damn thing was scary, and the guy in the costume knew what he was doing to sell the effect. With the torchlight and the children screaming, she was frightened and surprised, but only for a moment. But she didn’t panic. She had screamed, but she didn’t react abnormally, at least as much as she could tell. She glanced over her shoulder, down the hill towards the mine and the bad memories contained there. She nodded to herself. Yup. Doing better. Still nightmares sometimes, but not as often.
And the thought of nightmares somehow got her thinking about Sybilla. Mary snickered at that thought. Sybilla had been pleasant to her lately but had begged off some of the recent schoolwork. Her class had shrunk to only a handful of students, and most of those were on some kind of independent study. Which was good, because she was spending a lot more time working on various other technical projects for the Fugger. Especially at the mine, where the original DC electrical design had been abandoned for an AC layout. It was more complex, but the transmission was better. Lots could be re-used, and she spent at least three to four days a week there.
Mary didn’t push the fact that Sybilla had sort of dropped out of the classes. She was fine with not dealing with the girl. They had reached an uneasy truce, which allowed co-existence without open warfare. There had been no stealth attacks in a while. She glanced over to Sybilla, and she gave Mary a slight smile and a nod of the head. Not exactly friendly, but at least an acknowledgement of her presence.
To Mary’s surprise, Sybilla increased her pace, drawing even with Mary. “So, they tell me that you don’t have a Krampus back up-time?” Sybilla’s attitude was pleasant and conversational.
Mary was immediately suspicious and tried not to look shocked. “Umm. No. Just what we call Santa Claus. Elves, though, to help Santa. No children getting eaten by his evil assistant.” She smiled what she hoped was a pleasant smile, and not one that showed the confusion she was feeling.
“You were quite frightened when he came to you.” Sybilla smiled too, but not cruelly, as Mary thought she might.
Maybe, just maybe, she was coming around a little bit. Mary decided to go along, on the chance that it was true, and the girl was trying to be civil. Or it’s the schnapps. Mary suppressed a little giggle. Yup. Schnapps. Whoa.
Sybilla continued. “The man who plays Krampus is very good at it, he did it also when I was a child, and I still remember the first time he chased me. I was very frightened.” She put her hand on Mary’s arm, confidentially. “Of course, I was very small.” Her laugh seemed genuine.
“He was pretty scary.”
“Yes, yes he was. Even when I was young. He adds to his costume every year, to make it scarier.”
“So, I have to ask. Did he get you in the basket?”
Sybilla laughed, tossing her head back. “Ha! No, never. He chased me a little, but the basket is reserved for very bad little girls and boys. And I was never bad. Always good.”
Johann turned back over his shoulder at the two of them with an approving look, and they continued on to the schloss in a schnapps-filled warmth that lasted well past dinner. It occurred to Mary they should spend more time drinking schnapps.
Mary spent the next several days with her routine, fitting in the Tyrolian Christmas traditions between meetings and classes. It was apparent the Fugger didn’t take time off for the holidays, but continued working at a constant pace year-round, at all hours of the day and night. It wasn’t a job, it was a lifestyle. Making money, thinking about money, thinking about ways to save money, about how and where and how much to invest somewhere, analyzing opportunities, reading reports, it went on and on with them. Mary was starting to understand a little about what made them tick. The way they lived was simply part of what they did. Ingrained in the family DNA. It was not what they did, it was what they were. Which, she realized, made her work all the more important.
She made her way back to her chamber a few days before Christmas. “A new package has arrived for you, mistress.” Maria was pointing at a large bundle sitting on Mary’s desk in her chamber. “I brought it up as soon as it was delivered this morning.”
Mary clapped her hands together. “Oh, neat! The presents have arrived for everyone! I hope my mother was able to get everything I asked her to find. Let’s get it open!” The two girls made short work of the wooden crate, and Mary snatched the letter that lay on top. It was from her mother. Mary’s heart quickened as she smelled the inside of the box, which was wrapped in valuable plastic from an old dry-cleaning bag to keep out the water from transit. Inside the box, it smelled like home, conjuring images of her kitchen table, her bedroom in their small house back in Grantville, and her mother sitting in her favorite chair. The Christmas tree would be up by now in the front room. She wondered if her father was back from Magdeburg and had put up the outside lights.
The box contained the things she asked her mother to gather from her belongings or to purchase in Grantville for Christmas gifts. Mary knew she would be receiving gifts from the Fugger at the schloss, and she wanted to provide uptime things in return. She also wanted to thank Maria and the rest of the staff who had been helpful over the last several months. For the staff, Mary had gotten rolls of dimes, all of them, of course, from up-time. They were worth much more than face-value now, this long after the Ring of Fire. Many of the up-time coins that had made the trip back in time had been snapped up as souvenirs by down-timers visiting Grantville, and there was quite a market now. But Mary had a couple of rolls of dimes she had saved and stuffed then into a drawer for safekeeping. Passing out a dime as a gift didn’t seem like much, but Regina had told her that anything from up-time, especially given by someone from up-time, would be a very special gift. In fact, after checking market values, Regina had cautioned her that it represented perhaps an over-generous gift.
For the Count, Mary had convinced her mother to part with an old West Virginia souvenir plate that had hung in her grandparents living room. It was one of those old-fashioned dinner plate sized relics from the mid-sixties. It had a decal of various hand drawn pictures in the middle of it, depicting coal mining, the state capital, the Blue Ridge mountains, WVU, Harpers Ferry, and glassmaking. It was probably sold at a gift shop in the state capital, bought by her grandfather. It was, to Mary’s eye, ugly. But she was sure it was right up the Count’s alley. For the countess, it was simple. Mary got her a copy of an up-time Harlequin romance novel to go with her collection. It turned out that those things had gotten e
xpensive.
Regina was a little harder. Mary had seen her room, cluttered and packed with remnants of her life before. She thought about a couple of jelly glasses, brightly emblazoned with Hanna-Barbera characters from the back of the glassware cabinet, but those were better for Hieronymus and his family. Leopold got an old Archie comic book with a tattered cover. But Regina was tough. She finally settled on another item from her grandmother’s attic, a small ceramic figurine, with big eyes and pastel colors.
For Johann and Leonhard, her mother managed to find two pairs of sunglasses. They looked like the Ray Ban style, but of course they were not that fancy. Just plastic, cheap drugstore models from before the Ring of Fire. She was certain they would look dashing in them.
For her students, young and old. she purchased a sizeable number of slide rules. She had become quite proficient with them in the last year and had taught them in her classrooms. Those shipped from the manufacturer just outside of Grantville. Sybilla would not be impressed, she was sure.
She finished laying out the gifts on her bed and came to the final one for Maria. “And this is for you, Maria. I used to carry this when I was in grade school, it was on my backpack. I want you to have it.” Mary unwrapped a small key chain, from which dangled a tiny two-inch tall plastic troll. “I used to love these silly things when I was a girl. I'm sorry it’s a little used, but it went with me to school every day.” She handed the troll to Maria.
Maria’s eyes filled with tears as she examined it. “Oh, mistress, you shouldn’t have. He is so cute, and the hair is purple, so odd! He isn’t a demon, is he?” She looked worried.
“No, Maria. He is supposed to be an up-time version of a troll. Everyone tells me that there are trolls in the mountains around here, up in the rough high country. So I figured a troll would be okay to have. Not a demon. A toy troll.”
“Oh, trolls are quite okay to have. This is Tyrol, after all.” Her face brightened considerably.
The tree was brought in on Christmas evening, in one of the downstairs halls, and was decorated by the staff. Everyone was served a fish dinner that was described as carp. Mary judged it not very tasty. As in barely edible.
“It’s a simple food to remind us to be humble, like Christ,” Regina said. Then she leaned in to Mary to whisper the rest. “I think it vile, but it’s a tradition that was started years ago, so what do you do? Watch for the bones and be thankful that cook does a good job with this stuff.” She wrinkled her nose at the smelly, bony fish.
Carols were sung by a traveling group of men, called Sternsinger, who also chalked a cryptic code over the main door to the castle. 16 C*M*B 35. Regina explained it to her. “It’s a blessing. The letters chalked over the door stand for Christus Mansionem Benedicat, and the numbers are the new year.”
“May Christ bless this home, 1635?” asked Mary.
“Yes, that is right. Very good. Your Latin is getting better. But some say it’s for the three wise men, Caspar, Melchior and Balthazar.” She shrugged. “I like the first one myself.”
Kids were sent to bed, and instead of Santa Claus bringing the presents, they were to be brought by “Christkindle”, the Christ child himself. Mary found that twist odd, but pleasant. Cherubs were popular and could be seen everywhere. It made sense in a down-time way.
Late in the evening, gifts were exchanged between the adults. Mary received a gift from the Count and Countess, a twelve inch tall marble statue of Minerva, the goddess of wisdom, carved by someone by the name of Francesco Mochi from Rome. The Count told her the sculptor “Had statues in St. Peter’s Basilica.” Regina gave her a pair of custom down-time boots modeled after her up-time ones which were starting to wear out. And of course, Johann got her jewelry. A very nice necklace with the new modern cut diamonds. She was overwhelmed at the value of everything. The Count gave the countess a ring that had a diamond, as her mother used to say, “The size of a doorknob.” Wow.
She was pleased that her gifts were a hit. The fact that hers were all from up-time, made them extra special. She felt quite pleased, and made a mental note to write to her mother and tell her thanks. And the boys did look dashing in their sunglasses which of course they wore in the candlelit room.
They had nearly finished up, when Johann pulled her to the front of the tree, wearing his sunglasses pushed back on his forehead so he could see the family. The Fuggers gathered around, and the staff hung back towards the walls. He flashed a fun and conspiratorial grin. “Mary, my sister has something for you.”
“Sybilla? For me?”
“Yes.”
She looked at Johann, doing her best to contain an expression that said she didn’t believe him. “Okay…”
Sybilla came to them and handed Mary a box that filled the palm of her hand. The family watched as she opened it. Mary removed the wrappings, feeling guilty that she had only gotten Sybilla a slide rule. In the box was a crucifix, nearly the size of her hand, made of silver and very finely wrought. It looked old and had a solid heft to it. The thing had to weigh a pound or two. Mary held it, feeling the impressive weight and looking at the craftsmanship. It was far too large and heavy to wear, it would hang on a wall or be mounted in a frame.
“It’s solid silver,” said Sybilla. “It was from the house in Augsburg, the family thought you should have it.”
Mary swallowed. “This is an exceptional gift, Sybilla. I don’t know what to say. This is a little overwhelming. My gift to you is inadequate in comparison. Thank you.”
Sybilla bowed slightly and raised her voice to the room. “This is a gift from the family.” She gestured to the room, and there were head nods all around. “The Fugger reward those who do us great service. And you have done us great service.” Sybilla then turned to Mary, in such a way that the rest of the people in the room could not see her face. She gazed at Mary with an impassioned look, a look of prayer and devotion, almost desperate. It was disconcerting in its intensity, and she spoke in a whisper. “May this gift bring you closer to God.”
All Mary could say was “Thank you.”
Later, in her room, with a small single candle burning on her desk, she looked at the gifts. The items arrayed neatly before her represented more wealth than her parents could have made in five years back up-time. Maybe more. Ten years. Perhaps a lifetime. She stared at the hand-carved marble statue of Minerva, the goddess of wisdom, with her spear, thinking about the choice of the gift. The crucifix, gleaming in the low candlelight, drew her eye. There was more silver in it than she had seen in one place in her entire life. But the Fugger were silver miners, especially here in Tyrol. This gift too, was a statement. It was telling her many things. About their expectations, about her ranking, about their perceptions of her, about their faith. Each thing before her was a series of complex and subtle statements, all with a very high monetary value.
Finally, she picked up the necklace from Johann. It wasn’t overly gaudy, like most down-time jewelry she had seen. Some of the down-time jewelry and pendants were fascinating, mostly bejeweled representations of everything from tiny sailing ships to miniature cherubs made from pearls and gold and diamonds, but this gift was nothing like that. It was simple, clean, almost like an uptime design, without all the curlicues and overt embellishments that were down-time popular. It had some of the new cut stones, which she knew were a result of Morris Roth’s group. A down-time interpretation of an up-time necklace.
This too was a subtle gift, and one she thought about even more.
She looked at the gifts, thinking, until the candle burned itself to a stub, and then went to sleep.
∞ ∞ ∞
The week after Christmas, Mary finally had the chance to go skiing. Her skiing outfit arrived months ago from Grantville, with her gloves, boots, poles and most importantly, the up-time skis. Back before the Ring of Fire, she had bought the skis and boots from an ad in the local Grantville paper for less than fifty bucks, with money she made working part time. They were old and used when she bought them, but they sav
ed the rental fees. Plus, it made her feel much cooler to go the local slopes with her own skis rather than rentals.
Today, she found herself standing on top of the sort-of ski slope. The ski run was about an hour’s hike up mountain, via a horse trail thru the woods. In summer it was a meadow for cattle. Most of her previous skiing was done in southern Pennsylvania, or at the bumpy icy slopes of small ski resorts in West Virginia. So the fact that she could only slide down an open meadow and then get pulled back up by a draft horse acting as a tow rope was okay for her. The shortness of the run was more than made up for by the snow. It was fabulous; three feet of pristine powder, like nothing she had ever skied in before. She understood why people went to Colorado back up-time.
Johann went with her, of course, along with Franz and Leonhard. Mary and the three boys. And four security men from the schloss, one of which was the young Matthias Spotl who was constantly tagging along now. He seemed to have adopted her. There was a small hut at the top of the meadow that was normally used for a summer refuge for cattle herders, which was now repurposed as an impromptu ski lodge and barn. It had a small stone fireplace, but most of the heat was generated by the animals and the humans who took shelter there. It was a stone building, with a high peaked roof, surrounded on two sides by the forest, and tall stacks of firewood cut by woodcutters during the summer months. There were also more than enough bottles of schnapps to ward off the cold.
The down-time skis the boys had were odd looking. The oddest part to Mary was one down-time ski was much larger than the other one. Almost twice the size. One of them looked like a water ski and the other looked like a skinny snowboard. With Johann and Franz, it was the right one larger, and with Leonhard it was his left. There were no bindings or stiff ankle boots like Mary’s, these had only a loop that they put their foot into, so the boot was not fastened tightly to the ski. Most of the work in the powder snow was taken up by the large wide ski, which floated on top of the deep powder, while Mary tended to sink in with her narrow downhill skis. They used only one pole, a good eight to ten feet long, instead of the twin poles that Mary used. “Better to shoot with, if you have only one pole,” said Franz. He demonstrated slinging the pole under his arm and miming a crossbow. “Hands are free to fight, if necessary. We have troops who train with these.”
Up-Time Pride and Down-Time Prejudice Page 34