Up-Time Pride and Down-Time Prejudice

by Mark H. Huston

  As they emerged into the mid-day sunshine, Mary was surprised to see Regina and Sybilla waiting for her. Regina looked at her, dressed in her blue jeans and new work boots, an old flannel shirt that had been her Dad’s at one time, leather work gloves, and her up-time pattern but down-time made wool jacket. She shook her head. “What are we going to do with you Mary? Dressing like a man all the time. Are you trying to drive all of the men crazy around you?”

  Mary rubbed her nose, which she was sure was smudged with dirt like the rest of her clothes. “I'm not going one thousand feet underground in a skirt, Regina. It isn’t practical.”

  Sybilla agreed. “You cannot expect her to do such a thing in a skirt, Regina.”

  “I certainly can,” she huffed. “Women have been doing men’s work in skirts for years and years, and doing women’s work besides. It’s distracting for men to have women dressing like this, with their posterior so well defined.” She leaned over slightly and observed Mary’s behind, her face telling the girls that she was looking at exhibit number one. “Men look at a well-defined posterior and think it to be a – well, they don’t think, and that’s the problem.”

  Sybilla and Mary both laughed at her, and Mary dusted off her damp bottom with her gloves. “Well, this is the first time I've worn my jeans in a while. It actually felt a little strange today when I put them on, after wearing nothing but skirts. I’m trying to save them, make them last as long as possible.”

  “Well,” Regina sniffed, “wearing them in the schloss is fine, I suppose, but out in public like this can be considered scandalous.”

  “Not that it matters, we have brought you a change of clothing,” said Sybilla. “We are taking you to lunch. You need to warm up and eat something hearty. Enough work for today.”

  A short time later she was dressed in one of her regular skirts and bodices, a light wrap, and her Smith and Wesson securely tucked up under her armpit in a now well broken-in shoulder holster. Mary felt naked without it, she was so used to it. Her security team, still led by Wilhelm Waltz tsk-tsked every time she wore it, but she ignored him. He felt it was an affront to his efficiency, but Mary called it insurance. Mary won that discussion.

  Restaurants weren’t really a thing in a tiny town such as Schwaz, and while there were places where you could get something to eat, Regina deemed them insufficient for their purposes. So they went to the Fuggerhouse near the town center and ate there. Hieronymus and his wife were out of town, attending the soon to be wedding of Claudia de Medici, the Regent of Tyrol, and Bernhard Wettin, the incredibly ambitious self-styled Grand Duke of the County of Burgundy, but the staff had been warned by Regina to prepare something for them. They ate in a small private dining room overlooking the main street in the town. One of the windows pushed out the side of the Fuggerhouse, what Mary would call a bay window back home, that allowed her to look up and down the street. She sat there after a lunch of sausages and cheese with some early spring peas, sipping wine, when Sybilla came and sat next to her.

  Sybilla had been pleasant to her since Christmas. She had made no moves against Mary and not tried to disrupt her work. She had been friendly, and to be honest, Mary had welcomed it. Sybilla had taken the time to seek out Mary and drag her from her quarters where she usually ate dinner and invite her to dine. It had been tense at first, but through the colder winter months, Mary had warmed to Sybilla’s humor and intelligence. There was still an underlying brittleness, but if Sybilla was going to try, then Mary was going to try too. Plus, it helped with the loneliness, and having someone near her age to talk to, with Johann gone most of the time.

  Her conversations with Sybilla were similar to the ones she had with family members back before the Ring of Fire, where she dealt with her grumpy cousin whose politics didn’t agree with her family’s. Don’t talk about religion or politics. It seemed to work for both of them, and they respected the mutual boundaries.

  “So, what is next Mary? The work on the mine seems about complete?” Sybilla sat next to her and peered out the window, watching the pattern of people and animals walk by below them.

  “It is. At least what I can help with, anyway. There are some really smart people working in that group, under Trufer, and they catch on quick. I’ve taught them everything I can, I think. There may be occasional issues or problems that will need some up-time support, but they can do a lot of it. I've been working a lot on radio lately, doing math and answering material questions. And metallurgy. That’s complex too, much more than I ever realized. So I think that’s the direction we are going to go.”

  “I have heard much the same, especially radio.”

  “It will change a lot, instant communication.”

  “Yes. One of the advantages the Fugger have always had is our excellent messenger system, and our analysis. We are able to get inside information on so many things this way, by knowing something before the competition. But our best skill has always been in knowing what to do with the information we have in front of us. Our analysis, what we send to other offices, other members of the family, is what made us strong. Information by itself is nothing. Knowing the context, the nature of the information, that’s where our strength lies.”

  “I've seen the family do this on more than one occasion. When I argued about the alternating current as the far better choice than the direct current, the count showed me some of the reports from other members of the family, particularly the ones in Grantville. Their information was much the same as mine, and that corroborating analysis was what changed their position. It was the first time I really saw how extensive the network is.”

  “Speaking of changing positions, I have some news, Mary.” Sybilla was bubbling with contained excitement.

  “What kind of news?”

  “I'm going back to Augsburg for a while, then on to Vienna in the fall. I have been asking to go to court there for a number of years, and the family finally is sending me.”

  “That’s great news, I'm happy for you.” Mary reached out and squeezed Sybilla’s hand, and the girl jumped, almost as if her first instinct was to pull away. Mary knew that Sybilla had not been happy here, and wanted to leave, she had told Mary several times about wanting to go to Vienna. But Mary’s feelings were a bit mixed on Sybilla leaving. On one hand, she had become somewhat of a companion in the last couple of months. On the other, it would ease some tension from Mary’s life, never really knowing if Sybilla was scheming or not. There was always a tension in her gut when she dealt with the girl, even when the interaction was pleasant. Overall, she decided that it would be a good thing for Sybilla to be elsewhere. “Yes, I’m happy for you!” Mary smiled graciously.

  “I will be leaving in a couple of weeks. Of course, there will be a party before I go.”

  “Of course! I like parties. Who doesn’t?”

  “I'm sure you will love this one.” Sybilla smiled sweetly.

  Later, as Mary made her way back to the mine office, she saw a dusty old man, standing next to an equally dusty broken-down horse, just outside the Fuggerhouse. She passed the man waiting patiently to get into the Fuggerhouse offices. He was obviously a workman, although he looked so old that there was no way he worked in the mines. Maybe he was one of the guys who worked in ore processing, but he looked like he was at least a hundred years old. She made eye contact with him, bright, clear, and lively blue eyes, looking much younger than the rest of him. Then he said something so quietly she almost missed it. “There is a blue caboose, I believe.”

  “You have got to be kidding.” She stopped, and the security team around her tensed up, but kept their distance. She held up her hand to keep them away. “You?” despite her surprise, she said it quietly.

  He tilted his head waiting for the answer.

  “On tracks that go nowhere.” She replied so no one could overhear.

  The geezer smiled a smile that showed only one or two teeth remaining. The guy looked like a toothless Don Quixote. An older toothless Don Quixote. He did not inspire confi
dence in Mary, at least at first glance. Or second for that matter. And yet, despite his looks, he moved with the actions of a much younger man.

  “I work in ore processing, come see me there, when you can.” He then smiled and bowed, while Wilhelm Waltz came up to them, along with the Spotl boy. Waltz gave the old guy the Fugger security ‘hairy eyeball’ for talking to her. The young Spotl boy added his own adolescent suspicious squint to the mix.

  Mary smiled at Wilhelm Waltz. “This man is a Fugger associate, and he was just asking me a question. She turned to the old man. What is your name sir, so I can find you later?”

  He doffed a rumpled and dusty hat from his balding head. “Ludwig Fuchs, at your service.” Wispy white hair was greasily pasted to the perimeter of his skull, and nothing but thin pink skin, peppered with age spots, covered the top. This is Raphael’s replacement? I'm clearly not a priority for Grantville. Sheesh. Not exactly James Bond. More like his grandfather.

  Mary sighed a little and bobbed a professional polite curtsey. She was much better at it now, and she was even able to understand and use different curtseys; deep respectful ones, perfunctory ones, and simple professional dips of her knees and nods of her head were all now part of her repertoire. She smiled and hoped the result didn’t look too much like a grimace. “Pleasure to meet you, Herr Fuchs. I will take a look at the refining area next week, thank you.”

  He replied with a respectful bow. “I look forward to our discussion, Fraulein Russo.”

  ∞ ∞ ∞

  It was two weeks later when Sybilla knocked on Mary’s chamber door shortly after breakfast. Maria answered the door, meekly curtseying to Sybilla as she entered.

  “Good morning, Mary!” Sybilla breezed into the room, ignoring Maria. “Would you like to join us for a picnic lunch today? Franz and I are going to check on our ski lodge and look at some improvements for this winter. I have ordered some up-time style skis made for next year; I want to ski like you!”

  Mary continued to complete her morning correspondence while glancing over her shoulder at Sybilla, folding her paper and busying herself with sealing wax. “I thought you were going to be in Vienna later this year?”

  “I will come back and visit, of course, and bring people from the court back here.” She began pacing excitedly. “I think that skiing is going to be popular for the upper classes. Can’t have an ugly smelly stable for a ski lodge, can we? The schloss will be a fine place for people to stay, but that dreadful hut on the mountain? It won’t do at all. And we absolutely must lengthen the meadow, we will need to start soon. And more horses for towing back up the hill.”

  “Sounds like fun, Sybilla.”

  “So, the plan is to have a bit of a picnic up there today, and get some plans together. Since you will be here for the summer, I thought that I could ask you to oversee what needs to be done. I mean, you are the one who knows all about up-time skiing, and what is needed. I have the funds set aside out of my personal accounts, so Hofer won’t whine too much about the costs.”

  “What time do you want to head up the mountain? I have a couple of things to finish.” She continued to shuffle papers while she spoke.

  “How about we leave in an hour or so? I have security set up already with Wilhelm Waltz, so he knows we are leaving. I know how he hates it when you do something unplanned. And with half of the schloss off to Burgundy for the wedding, things are a bit out of sorts.”

  “He’s used to it by now,” said Mary with mischievous grin. “One hour.”

  Sybilla flounced out, happy to be planning her future Viennese court snow-skiing party a full six to eight months in advance, completely confident that it would work out perfectly, and that Mary, Hofer, and multiple workers would bend to her will and schedule. Mary shook her head, amused at the typical Sybilla clueless confidence. She figured that worst case, she and the boys would have an improved “chalet” for their ski run in the winter. And if Sybilla was paying for it, that was okay too.

  She turned to Maria as she closed the door after Sybilla. “Maria, would you take this note to be sent with the next courier to Grantville?”

  She took the note. “Yes, mistress.” Maria hesitated for a moment. “Mistress, If I could…I mean, I'm not sure…” She glanced at the closed door, where Sybilla had just gone.

  “What is it, Maria?”

  “Sybilla has been very nice lately.” The statement from the chambermaid ended with an unsaid ‘…but…’

  “Yes, she has.” Mary looked at her patiently. “Is there something you want to tell me?”

  “There is nothing to tell.” She shifted nervously, tugging at her shift. “I don’t know anything, and Sybilla has gone through several personal maids.”

  “We know this.”

  Maria was shifting nervously back and forth. “It’s just, well. Do you trust her, mistress? I don’t want any harm to come to you, not that I think that any member of the family would do such a thing to one of us, or to you. But she has been so different since Christmas.”

  Mary patted the small chair next to her desk, and Maria reluctantly sat, unsure if she overstepped her bounds. “I apologize, mistress, if I have been too presumptuous. But I—”

  “That’s okay, Maria. It’s okay. Thank you for your concern. If it makes you more comfortable, I don’t trust her, at least not completely. She is different since Christmas, that’s true. I would like to think the season, and the influence of the Christ child was something which turned her heart. But I don’t think that’s the case. Which is why I want you to take another note. It goes to an old man who works in the ore processing plant in Schwaz. His name is Herr Fuchs.” Mary turned to her desk and quickly scribbled a note. She blew on it to dry the ink, folded it, and then sealed it with wax.

  As they made their way up the mountainside, Mary rode alongside Sybilla, who chatted incessantly about her upcoming trip back home to Augsburg, excited about going to Vienna later in the summer. She talked about the new court in Vienna, the young emperor and how he was Europe’s most eligible bachelor, and the remaining sisters of the emperor she just knew were going to be her best friends ever, as soon as she had a chance to meet them. Mary did a lot of smiling and nodding, only half listening. She was enjoying the ride through the forest up the mountainside, smelling the mountain air that still had a hint of winter under the pine. Franz rode behind the girls, looking as bored as Mary felt, and the two guards split ahead and behind. One of the men was new, and he was massive. As Mary watched him ride up the hill, his proportions gave the impression of a large boulder perched on top of a small pony. His forearms were as large as Mary’s thighs, and his head seemed to be attached directly to his shoulders exclusive of a neck. Mary mentally nicknamed him ‘The Troll’. The other guard looked familiar, she figured he had worked with her before. She couldn’t remember his name, so it must have been a while ago. A lot of the staff was still off to Burgundy for the wedding of Claudia de ‘Medici.

  Thinking about the guards made her do a quick check of her shoulder holster under her left arm. Today Mary had on a dark green riding dress, her old up-time work boots, and her hair was pulled up into an unruly bun on top of her head. She was dressed for working. She tossed aside her light cloak and gave the revolver a quick tug.

  Sybilla noticed her movement and looked slightly concerned. “Expecting trouble?”

  “Not really, things have been quiet lately; I think they must have given up. Stadelemier usually lets me know if he hears anything, but it’s been quiet since Christmas.” Mary shrugged, settled the holster back snug to her side, and pulled her cloak back across her shoulders. It was still a little cooler up in the trees, with occasional patches of snow on the ground in areas where the sun couldn’t reach.

  After they had been riding for about a half hour, they heard a horse coming up on them fast. Everyone turned, and the guards pivoted quickly to face the rear. The troll moved with surprising speed for his size. He didn’t guide his horse as much as he turned its head by sheer strengt
h. The rider was young Matthias Spotl. He looked aggrieved and pouty, his specialty as a teen. “Mary, why did you leave and not tell me? I always accompany you, it’s my duty.”

  The guards parted and let him through, and he gave them a superior look. “Stadelemier says that I am to stay with you at all times when you go out.” He looked mulish.

  Mary gritted her teeth. “Master Spotl. You are not needed today. Return to the stables.”

  Sybilla guided her horse to join them. “What is the reason for our delay?”

  “Young Matthias has an inflated sense of duty, it seems,” said Mary dryly. “He should return to the stables.”

  Sybilla looked at the boy appraisingly. “Let him tag along. He can tend to the horses. He will be no problem.” She pointed her horse back up the mountain. “Let’s go, I don’t want to be too late for our lunch.” The little troop started to move.

  Mary leaned over to Matthias. “If you come along, you must do exactly as I tell you. Do you understand?”

  He sat impossibly tall in his saddle, his duty fulfilled under duress. “Yes, mistress.”

  “Remember. Exactly what I say, Matthias.” Mary spoke softly. “Is anyone else coming?”

  The boy looked confused, and his feelings were obviously hurt for her even asking. “No, mistress.”

  Mary swallowed. “Are you sure?”

  “Yes, mistress. No one else.”

  They eventually reached the hut on the mountainside. The stone building sat at the edge of the meadow, backing up to the forest. The stacks of firewood were much smaller now, no longer stacked higher than the roof. There was a horse tied up on the downslope side, and a plume of smoke came from the chimney. It wasn’t unusual to have someone use the hut, it was there primarily as a summer shelter for herdsmen and animals, a winter sanctuary second, and an impromptu ski lodge third. Seeing the horse tied up, Franz and the normal-sized guard exchanged a look and spurred their horses to a trot while motioning the girls to wait behind while they checked out the occupants of the hut. That left The Troll and young Matthias to wait with them. The troll took out his over large knife and started to clean his fingernails.