Grasping for the Crowns (The Powers Book 2)

by Alma Boykin

  “I take back what I said about swimming.”

  Ahead, István saw grey-clad figures approaching the far end of the bridge. “Can you run at all?”

  “No, but I can drop a few if they get close.” István almost tripped in his surprise as his brother added, “Just because I’m slow doesn’t mean I’m helpless.” Mátyás panted. “At least for twelve rounds I’m not.”

  My brother has a pistol. I wonder what other surprises are—no, belay that thought. He shouldn’t have even let his mind go that way, István knew. Ahead, more grey moved onto the bridge. Army troops from the citadel on Gellért Hill. Infantry and a few cavalry, with some police at the edges in their dark blue uniforms. And he and Mátyás were between them and the rioters. István risked a glance over his shoulder. The men behind them seemed to be slowing, or were they gathering to surge forward and try and grab their prey? Grey water below, bits of blue sky between the soft clouds above, the smell of smoke thinning out of the wind, and trouble in front of him as well as behind, István noted.

  “I think you’d better keep your pistol down for now,” István managed. His leg and back had started to ache, and he hoped that he would not trip. “If Capt. Grimbach is on duty, he’s inclined to shoot first and apologize later, if at all.”

  “Grimbach?” Pant, pant, pant. “Oh St. Jude be with us.”

  “To the side, clear of their shot,” István panted back. How could a three hundred-meter-long bridge take so long to cross? They both eased to the left, trying to stay out of the line of fire while remaining on the smooth roadway. Maybe the men behind them would see the troops and stop. Maybe, István thought, if they could get to the next set of towers, that would provide cover and concealment. He reached inside his coat, pulling out his military papers and identification.

  Ahead he saw a man on a shaggy brown horse ride forward, a piece of paper in one hand. Three other riders appeared before the infantry closed ranks. Now István saw the fixed bayonets. His mouth went dry. Dear Lord no, there will be a bloodbath. Oh holy Lord no, please may the mob have sense, please Lord in Heaven I beg you.

  Another glance over his shoulder showed the mob slowing. István and Mátyás did the same. “Keep your hands clear,” István said. He thought back to his military training. “And let me talk.” The gasping and panting from beside him suggested that that wouldn’t be a problem.

  “Halt! Stop in the name of his Majesty.” The horseman glared down the bridge. The brothers halted, hands out at their sides.

  “Grab the informers, stop—” The calls faded away as the crowd got a good look at the troops waiting for them.

  At the lieutenant’s gesture, two soldiers trotted up to István and Mátyás and grabbed their arms, dragging them to the edge of the pedestrian walk and pushing them against the fence. The sergeant took István’s papers, looked at them, and called, “It’s one of ours, sir. Invalided officer.”

  The muttering from the crowd faded as the words reached them, or so István thought. It was hard to hear over his own breath and pounding heart. The officer rode up, took the papers, looked at them for himself, and returned them. “Release them. With all due respect, Col. Eszterházy, you picked a bad day for a walk.”

  “I’m,” István took a deep breath. “I’m inclined to agree with you, Lieutenant. It seems the gentlemen of the MSP are optimistic about their control over their supporters.”

  The officer raised one eyebrow as he backed his horse. “The bastards have no control over anything, not any more, my lord Colonel.”

  István wanted to ask, but could guess. “If you do not need me . . . ?”

  “No, my lord Colonel.”

  Mátyás led the way past the edge of the soldiers. They got some curious and pitying looks, and a few hostile ones. Once on the main road north, the brothers walked more slowly, and with considerably more dignity, past the lovely houses and shops, into the Magnates’ district. “I hope Janö is safe,” Mátyás managed at last.

  “He should be. He’s skirted trouble before,” István said. He wanted to reach through the House and look for Janö, but didn’t have the strength or concentration at the moment.

  The brothers rounded the corner and saw their own gate, and Dobroslav outside it, watching the street. The pastel colors of the town palaces looked lovelier to István than they had in quite a while. “I trust you have no objection to spending the night?”

  Mátyás coughed a little. “Um, no, not really. I have an appointment, but it can wait.”

  You were going to pay your mistress a visit tonight, in other words. Her and your daughter, the ones I don’t know about and will never, ever mention when Mother might hear. István bit his tongue and said only, “Good. I suspect Pest will be a little difficult to navigate until tomorrow. Especially around the diet and university.”

  Mátyás heaved a sigh as Dobroslav opened the pedestrian door set into the wooden gate. “Thank you. And yes. Because there is always some young hot-head at the university who insists on baiting the police or army, even now.”

  “If that smoke was any sign, my lords, nothing will be moving in the diet or university district for the rest of the week,” Dobroslav said.

  Right. No parties until the fall, at least not large. And I need to sit down.

  As they went up the steps, Mátyás sighed. “I need a drink. Even brandy.”

  That too.

  Janö and Mátyás traded places the next day, just after sunrise. Janö said, “I didn’t see anything bad, my lord, but I didn’t go looking either. The police and soldiers.” He left the rest of the sentence unsaid—a wise decision, István thought.

  No newspapers from Budapest appeared in the shops, but the word from Vienna, Prague, and Berlin was the usual blend of optimism, pragmatism, and puffery. István had some ideas as to the results of the previous day’s excitement even without the papers, and decided that the time had come to start preparing to leave Budapest for the summer. The austerities and transportation situation made everything take longer than it had before the war. For once, István envied the great lords of court, like his cousin Prince Eszterházy, for whom very little seemed to have changed. On the other hand, given the rumors from Vienna about the hunger there . . . István watched Barbara playing with little Imre and wondered.

  He had business in the offices within the palace complex on Buda Hill, so after breakfast he dressed in the proper attire and walked up the steep slope to the southern castle gate. The guards nodded in recognition and passed him in through the old-new walls. He started toward the inner gate of the palace, but first he ventured out to the edge of the complex, beside King Mathias’s church.

  István looked out across the river to the parliament building. Nothing moved around it, and he could see thin threads of smoke rising from the buildings beyond the neo-Gothic confection. The university appeared quiet, and no pedestrians or vehicles moved on the road east of the parliament. Traffic, mostly delivery and freight wagons, trundled along the riverbank, traveling to and from the wharves and docks. Boats chugged past on the blue-grey Danube, while clouds sailed from west to east overhead. He didn’t linger, looking then moving on, returning to the palace proper.

  István expected to find a message from Archduke Rudolph waiting for him, along with military news. Instead, he passed through a doorway, rounded a corner, and found two breeches-clad footmen and a secretary waiting outside a door usually left locked. The nondescript, black-coated secretary perked up when he saw István, peering at him through his round glasses. “My lord Count, what a happy coincidence. His Grace is about to send word for you to come as soon as possible.”

  “His Grace? Is here, I take it,” István said, covering his surprise. “I shall wait to present my news in person, then.” As he spoke, one of the footmen disappeared.

  “I believe that would suit his Grace.” The secretary made a note. “I’m sure he will call for you shortly.”

  In other words, do not loiter but don’t go wandering too far, either.
“Excellent. Thank you.” István continued on to the space he usually used. Although he was not officially a member of the government, he had been granted certain permissions as Head of House Sárkány and as an advisor to Archduke Rudolph. As if that particular archduke ever took advice from anyone, István sighed, setting his hat on top of the coat tree and allowing a clerk to remove his top coat and hang it as well. Indeed, a folder bearing the Habsburg eagle waited for him on his otherwise empty desk. István sat and read through it, skimming the main headings first before returning to read in more detail. The news did not please him, but he did not feel terribly worried, either.

  Despite the wishes of some in the army, the empire would not launch a major campaign against Italy before September. The few remaining members of General Conrad von Hötzendorf’s former claque, and the retired general himself, wanted revenge attacks and a major offensive to sever any connection between Rome-controlled Italy and the Veneto and Trieste. Archduke Thomas and Emperor Josef Karl—although, István gathered, with less certainty on the emperor’s part—were not completely confident that the February debacle had weakened the Russians as much as the Germans, and some imperial generals, believed. After all, in 1914, the Russians had managed to drive the Imperial Army back past Lemberg, as far as Przemysl and the San River, and almost to the Carpathian foothills, despite the drubbing at what the Germans called the battle of Tannenburg. The empire had recaptured Galicia early the next year, but still the Russians refused to quit.

  Instead of revenge attacks, Archduke Thomas had proposed, and his Majesty supported, firming up the lines in the east and incorporating some of what the Germans had learned at Verdun. His Majesty’s Bavarian connections are proving most useful, István mused as he skimmed over the outline. That the Prussians seemed determined to alienate the Bavarians and Würtembergers also helped. King Willi, as István allowed himself to gloat in private, had a gift for irritating people and sticking his booted foot well into his own mouth. Now the Germans wanted Austria to attack Italy in order to distract the Entente of France, Russia, and Britain. Although, given the rumors he’d heard about the Germans plans for Poland and Silesia, István wondered if Wilhelm’s men truly needed the relief of a distraction attack. Or was it an attempt to divert the Austrians so that Germany could grab Silesia from the Habsburgs under the pretext of “efficiency,” as they were doing in the Baltic with Russian Poland?

  The clerk coughed, catching István’s attention. “My Lord, His Grace wishes to speak with you.”

  István carried the papers with him back up the cool, dim hallway. Even here he could feel the effects of fuel rationing. Waiting, he brushed at his lapels to remove any bit of lint or dirt. A footman opened the door. “Your Grace, Count Colonel Eszterházy,” the man said.

  “Send him in,” the light voice replied. István triple-checked his mental shields, walked in, and bowed to the pale figure behind the gilt-trimmed desk.

  “Your Grace.”

  The figure did not look up from his work. “Come, and be seated.” Archduke Rudolph Thomas Martin Habsburg, Archduke of Styria and the Tirol, pointed to the chair facing the desk. István straightened up and took the chair, while a second footman directed a lower servant to bring a small table and set it beside István for his papers. Rudolph finished signing something and raised his head, leaning back a few centimeters into his chair.

  István bit back an exclamation of mild dismay. Rudolph had shrunk from slightly lean to almost skeletal. Was it overwork or the demands of the House eating him from inside? Or was it the rationing and dearth? His Majesty had ordered the imperial household to share the people’s austerity. Then the archduke turned and coughed, an all-too familiar sound that many people had shared that winter past. When he looked back, István saw the familiar, slightly odd look in those very troubling eyes, slit-pupiled and just paler than dried blood. “I take it you are aware of the little difficulty yesterday?” Rudolph said.

  “Yes, Your Grace. Quite aware, since His Majesty’s soldiers came within ten meters or so of having to rescue my brother Mátyás and I from the mob on the bridge.”

  Rudolph blinked and tipped his head to the side, one light brown eyebrow raised. “Indeed?”

  “Yes, Your Grace.” István related the tale.

  When he finished, the emperor’s cousin looked past István’s head, thinking hard, or so it seemed. “I believe that you made the correct choice. You will be pleased to hear that the army did not have to fire on the rioters, this time. However, the Magyar Socialist Party is no longer extant and martial law exists in Budapest until the end of April. Perhaps the Palatine will lift it sooner, if the fools behave themselves, but keep that to yourself.”

  “Yes, Your Grace. Ah, is His Majesty going to imprison the heads of the MSP?”

  “And make them martyrs? No, not unless they incite more riots.” Rudolph shook his head. “No, but an example needs to be made of the party, and will be. This is not the time to be calling for strikes and for mobs to seize the factories and farms.”

  István let his shoulders relax a little. “No, Your Grace, it is not.” He glanced over at the papers, wondering what Rudolph wanted from him. When he looked up, he knew.

  The slight strangeness in the lean face warned István, but the hair on his neck still rose a little at the new timbre in the Archduke’s voice. “You are going to your lands, are you not.”

  That’s a command, not a question. “Yes, Your Grace.”

  “Good. Do not seek out Galicia.” A triple tongued mind-voice added, «Do not touch or seek for it, be wary if it reaches for you.»

  István answered silently, «Yes, Your Grace. Why?»

  «It remains inward. We watch it,» the Powers speaking through the Archduke said. «White Russia too shifts, hardens, and twists.»

  István made a small sign of the cross. If Pannonia thought Russia and Galicia ailed, or turned strange, he certainly was not going to try and read them! «I hear and obey.»

  «Good. Go to your House and lands, read the health of the House and Power of the Matra.» Rudolph shook his head, reminding István of a damp dog, then blinked and returned to himself.

  “Your Grace, is there ought else I need to know?” István held up the folder of papers.

  “Not at the moment. Things appear stable, or as stable as they ever are when one deals with Croats and Serbs.” Rudolph drummed his fingers on the desk, rattling the papers under his long fingers. “Serbia is very quiet.”

  “Too quiet, Your Grace?”

  “Not for my taste. One wonders how the Turks were able to put up with their foolishness for five hundred years—or one does until one considers the Turks’ own . . . peculiarities.” Rudolph raised one eyebrow, and István nodded as he suppressed a shiver. He’d heard and read family tales about the reconquest of Hungary and the atrocities committed by the Turks. And Hungarians as well, but the Turks did it first. Until the Habsburgs came along, we’ve never been invaded by anyone civilized, my Magyar ancestors included.

  “Watch and listen, Count Eszterházy. How is your newest family member?” Rudolph smiled.

  “Quiet, perhaps to make up for her older brother, who has started crawling faster than Prince Schwarzenberg’s best racehorse. I fear we are going to find little Imre halfway across the Chain Bridge if we leave him unattended.”

  Rudolph laughed quietly. “I’ll warn the guards to beware, then. And your lady mother?”

  “Your Grace, pardon the familiarity, but if you see her coming, be advised, she is already considering matches for little Erzsébet. You are on the list.”

  A look of shock, followed by a flash of horror, crossed Rudolph’s face before he started laughing again. “I’m sorry,” he managed after a few moments. “She does realize that the House negotiations alone would take the rest of this century?”

  “No, Your Grace, I suspect that she does not.” «And you likely would not meet her standards, since I don’t.»

  «The only standard I have ever met is for �
��dissolute second son,’ and even then my cousin on the Lichtenstein side outdid me.»

  «Hans Wilhelm Gustav, Your Grace?»

  «Who else?»

  The undertone of laughter and resignation made István smile a little. He’d heard stories, highly edited into cautionary tales, that still made him wonder what exactly the prince had done. Or hadn’t done, if his aunt and mother’s horrified whispers and behind-the-fan comments told truth.

  “Good. Do not be surprised if a House meeting is called later this year. His Majesty has been intending to call one, but,” Rudolph raised his hands and spread them in a gesture that encompassed the war, domestic politics, and everything else in the world.

  “Indeed, Your Grace. Indeed.”

  By the end of April, Lady Marie’s behavior reached the point that István sent a quiet message to Mistress Nagy, asking her to come and speak with his mother. He, Barbara, Mátyás, and Lady Marie had been in the family’s private sitting room, discussing the move and how to get everyone—at least, those who needed to come with the family—shifted from Budapest to Nagymatra, and then to Kassa. Barbara rocked Erzsébet and said, “Monday the twenty-ninth should do, even though the rail traffic will be heavy.”

  Lady Marie frowned. “Saturday the twenty-seventh. We always go up on Saturday in order to get there before Sunday Mass.”

  Both Mátyás and Barbara shook their heads. “No, Mater,” Mátyás said.

  Barbara added, “There will be no room because of the Hamsters, Lady Marie.”

  The dowager countess raised one hand to her chest, confused. “What do you mean ‘because of the Hamsters,’ Barbara?”

  István carefully did not roll his eyes. We’ve discussed this how many times, Mater?

  Barbara glanced down at her daughter and handed the now-sleeping baby to István, who laid her down in the cradle beside his chair. Magda or Rose would come and take the baby to the nursery soon. Barbara told her mother-in-law, “Lady Marie, the common folk go out into the countryside on the weekends to buy or gather food. Cheese, fruit, and whatever they can glean or purchase from the farms and fields. Some go as far as Eger, to the forests, for nuts and berries and roots. Their bags look like hamster cheeks, so someone started calling them the Hamsters.”