1636: The Viennese Waltz

CHAPTER 14

January and early February 1635

Sanderlin House, Race Track City

“Frau Sanderlin, may I give credit to Ursula Kline?” Magdalena Hough asked timidly. “She is a good woman and if she can get some of the bottles for her herbs, she will be better able to sell them.”

Gayleen Sanderlin was at a loss. “Well, I guess so. I mean, it’s your shop. What do the other ladies who work there say?”

Magdalena hesitated. “Well, some agree. Others think we don’t have the money to give credit.”

Fortney House, Race Track City

“Frau Fortney, may I give credit to Renate Treffen?” asked Peter Zingler. The bootmaker was literally hat in hand, and Dana Fortney didn’t have a clue what to say. She knew who would, but her daughter was in the shop working with Sonny on the boiler for the steam car they were trying to build. And Brandon, who might know what to do, was out at his experimental farm, mulching God-knew-what with chicken poop to make compost.

“Let me think about it, Herr Zingler. Do you have to have an answer right now?”

240Z Shop, Race Track City

“Herr Sanderlin, can you get me credit at the Up-time Diner? Things have been tight and. .”

Ron Sanderlin looked over at Pete Greisser. He was a good guy, if not the brightest Ron had ever met. Hard worker and willing, but not great with money.

“Just till next payday. Maria, my sister, is in from the country and, well, money is tight and. .”

Again Pete trailed off and this time Ron had to fight back a curse. The pay was late again. He knew that the empire was having financial troubles but, damn it, when you hire people you’re supposed to pay them.

It was on the tip of his tongue to tell Pete that of course he could have credit at the Up-time Diner, but then he remembered he didn’t own the diner. “I’ll see what I can do, Pete.”

Dana’s Office, Fortney House, Race Track City

“We’re getting a lot of people asking for credit,” Dana Fortney told Gayleen Sanderlin. The office now had its own set of filing cabinets. Dana had gone to the cabinet-maker Moses Abrabanel recommended. She also had a nice roll-top desk she had had made right here in Vienna. It had cost a fortune, but was worth it.

“I know, but what are we going to do? Most of those people have jobs. A lot of them have jobs with the government. They aren’t getting paid. And even the bribes are barely enough to keep body and soul together. If they aren’t government employees, they aren’t even quartered.”

“Sure. But that doesn’t pay for the raw materials we need.”

“Talk to Hayley,” Gayleen said. Then she shook her head. “It’s really weird asking a fourteen-year-old for financial advice.”

“Fifteen now,” Dana said automatically. Then, “And how do you think I feel? She’s my daughter. She’s supposed to be coming to me for a raise in her allowance while I tell her to be more frugal. Not the other way around.”

Gayleen laughed. “Oh, stop bragging.”

* * *

“This isn’t working,” Hayley said. “And I don’t know why.”

It was pretty clear that the sudden increase in the credit requests was because the emperor was late again with the wages, and not just for the race track workers but for everyone in Vienna. And a lot of those people were owed a lot more than a couple of weeks’ wages.

“Well, it’s not their fault that the pay is late,” Gayleen Sanderlin insisted. “What the heck is wrong with Ferdinand III?”

That was true, Hayley knew, but that wasn’t what she was thinking about. “He’s probably broke, too. Meanwhile, we have to figure something out.” Damn it, this should be working better. They were selling good products, really good products, at bargain prices. Stuff people needed, stuff that would make their lives better. They ought to be selling more. Hayley wished Susan Logsden was here, but she didn’t know what Susan could do that she wasn’t. Then she realized that who she really wished was here was Sarah Wendell. “It’s an economic problem,” she blurted out.

“Okay?” Gayleen said doubtfully. “It’s an economic problem. What is the problem? And more importantly, what’s the solution?”

“I have no idea!” Which was true in general, but in this particular situation, the answer was that they would have to give credit.

* * *

Hayley consulted with Jack Pfeifer, their lawyer. “The problem is that we want Sanderlin-Fortney Investment Company to give credit, but discourage using it.”

“What do you mean?”

“We’re actually in a pretty good situation here, right on the Danube with a couple of north/south trade routes so there are plenty of raw materials available and not all that expensive. But that doesn’t mean they are free. When we sell something on credit, a pair of pants, a box of aspirin, or whatever, we have to pay cash for the materials to replace it.”

Jack was nodding.

“Right. Cash would be better. But if we don’t give credit, we run out of customers, or close to it. If we make it too easy to get credit, then people who should be paying cash will be buying stuff on credit.”

“Charge interest?”

“Sure. But most of our sales are small. Keeping track of who owes how much interest would be a nightmare. For us and them. And some of our sales, well, they aren’t quite charity, but close to it. We really don’t want to send a bunch of people to debtor’s prison.”

“You can always forgive a debt,” Jack said. “And you can do it selectively. You can forgive or not, as you see fit. You can forgive some, but not all. You can forgive the interest. You can decide not to call it in this month and maintain your right to call it in next month. Once you own the debt, it’s pretty much up to you what to do with it.”

“What we need is a form that we can have printed up that makes it clear, so that we have a legal record. They fill in the amount and sign it. Then it goes in the money box. And we keep a ledger of who owes what. We’ll leave it up to the shopkeepers who to offer credit to, but everyone who gets credit signs one every time they use it.”

“That should work and is not that different from what merchants are already doing. How much interest and how do you want to work that part?”

“Let’s set it up so that each year after harvest, we apply five percent to the total owed.”

“That’s not very much. And if they manage to pay off their debt or even pay it down just before harvest, they will pay even less interest.”

“I know, but I don’t want to drown people in debt. I just want to make them think about paying cash.”

“I’m not at all sure this will make them think hard enough about paying cash.”

February, 1635

Carla was back in Race Track City with her girlfriends. They were in the little shop that sold casein buttons and other knickknacks. It was a pretty place, with lots of glass windows in little diamonds along one wall so that there was plenty of sunlight. Carla’s paisley shirt had lost a button, and they were white plastic buttons. Utterly irreplaceable. But if she took off all the buttons that were left and replaced them with the casein buttons. . that would work. Besides, the casein buttons were actually prettier. There was a set that had little 240Z embossed on the buttons and another set that had little crosses. She picked a set of cream-colored buttons with pale blue crosses to go with her shirt. They weren’t expensive, but she was broke.

Her girlfriends weren’t exactly flush either, so there was quite a bit more wanting than buying going on. Then a dumpy middle-aged woman came in and picked up three casein canisters with lids. She went up to the counter and said, “Guten Tag, Maria.”

“Guten Tag, Katharina. Do you have cash today?” the woman at the counter asked.

“No, not till I fill these and sell them. Things have been tight.”

“All right then.” The woman behind the counter pulled a sheet out of a drawer and wrote something on it, then the woman buying the canisters signed it, took her canisters and left.

Sofia Anna, seeing this, grabbed a set of casein thimbles she had been eyeing and marched up to the counter.

“That will be eight pfennig,” said Maria.

“I will charge them,” Sofia Anna proclaimed. “I am Sofia Anna von Wimmer.”

Maria looked at Sofia, then at the other girls. Then she carefully said, “I am most sorry, ma’am, but I must have your parents’ approval before I can even start the process of setting up a credit account.”

The others sighed and Carla had an idea. She recognized Hayley Fortney in this. She didn’t know how Hayley was involved, but she was pretty sure that the Barbie Consortium’s mechanical genius was involved somewhere. “Well, I guess I’ll just have to get my parents to agree,” she said to the other girls. “They’ll probably have to come out here to set up the account, too. So the buttons will have to wait till that’s done.”

Maria looked cautiously grateful as she nodded to Carla.

* * *

While the girls were were eating apple strudels, Carla excused herself and went to see Hayley. She wasn’t at all sure what she was going to say. Hayley, can you get me a line of credit at the casein shop? didn’t seem quite the right thing to say.

“Hayley,” she said when she found Hayley-as usual-in the steam shop. “Can you explain how credit works out here?”

“I’ll try, Carla,” Hayley said, looking around the shop.

Carla looked around the shop and saw the people looking at her and Hayley. “Well, I would have gone to your mom, but I figured she’d be busy.” Then she switched to English. “Sorry, Hayley. I didn’t mean to out you.”

“It’s okay. But I am trying to stay in the closet on this.”

Carla grinned. Who down-time was going to get what “staying in the closet” meant, even if they spoke English?

“Come on,” Hayley said, still in English. “I’ll take you to Mom and she can help you out.”

Once Hayley had bundled up and they were out of the shop, Carla continued. “Thanks, Hayley. I haven’t had time to make much money. The English Ladies have me teaching math and science. Meanwhile, I lost a button off my favorite shirt.

“Also, you need to know that the girls at the school are probably going to be trying to get their parents to set them up with lines of credit. I don’t know how you’re going to deal with that. Some of them are people you don’t want to say no to.”

“Well, the English Ladies ought to be paying you for teaching.”

“I know that, and you know that, but I don’t think you’re going to convince them or my parents of that. Come on, Hayley. We’re kids and putting kids to work for the grownups’ benefit is standard practice. More here than up-time.”

“Sure. But if they sent you off to be a maid, you’d get paid. Maybe not much, but something. And if you were apprenticed, you would be learning a trade.”

“Right. But money is supposed to be beneath our notice.”

“It’s not beneath Prince Liechtenstein’s notice,” Hayley said.

“Sure, it is,” Carla shot back. “That’s what he’s got the Barbies for.”

“Naw. That’s just because he’s not real good at it,” Hayley said. “Anyway. . look, I’ll get you some credit. But you need to get your folks to come out and talk to Ron Sanderlin and my dad.”

“Why? About the credit account?”

“No. Because about five months ago the Bessemer steel mill at Linz blew up. They were going from cheat sheets, and we hadn’t arrived yet. They started rebuilding it and a couple of weeks before you guys got here Dad and Ron Sanderlin took a trip up the Danube to see it.

“They saw some stuff and made some suggestions, but Dad’s not an engineer and Ron is a mechanic, and those guys need your dad’s expertise.”

“Things are tight right now, Hayley,” Carla said. “My parents got promised a bunch of stuff. None of those promises has been broken, but they have been reinterpreted quite a bit since we had to run from Grantville. The government isn’t going to be paying my dad. Instead, he’s been made Hofbefreiten. He has a fancy new title, Royal Adviser on Up-timer Engineering, but no one knows what to do with him.”

“We heard,” Hayley said. “But this should be a paying gig. Count von Dietrichstein got the patent for the Bessemer by promising to provide the crown with lots of good steel, as well as the silver he paid for it. The guy has to get that thing running now. I’m not saying your dad can write his own ticket, but the job should pay well.”

“I’ll tell him,” Carla promised.

* * *

Sonny and Ron spent a couple of hours going over the state of affairs in the Bessemer mill at Linz with Peter Barclay. It was in the process of being rebuilt. And they put him in touch with Count von Dietrichstein.

After he had left, Ron muttered, “Maybe we’ll get lucky and the count will have him executed.” Peter Barclay had been both condescending and critical. And, Ron admitted to himself, at least half right. Even from only the discussion they had, Barclay had spotted things that Ron and Sonny hadn’t. Which shouldn’t have been surprising. Peter Barclay was an engineer and had consulted on the first Bessemer plant located just outside of Saalfeld.

* * *

Meanwhile, Hayley set up a line of credit for Carla and bought some stuff from her to get a little cash in the girl’s hands. Hayley had also set up a policy for the parents of the girls at the English Ladies’ school. If they wanted credit, their parents had to agree to put up the money. In exchange, the parents would get a copy of the bills and would know what the girls bought. So the “Them of Vienna” were effectively required to pay in advance, but didn’t have to look like they were.

* * *

Some people didn’t want to sign the credit slips and went elsewhere, but all the new businesses that the Sanderlins and Fortneys backed had some up-time or new-time tech that made their production cost less so they were mostly inexpensive. They didn’t lose that many customers. Others decided that it was better to pay cash if they had it. So the new businesses were getting more cash in, but SFIC was still losing money-if you didn’t include the money owed to them. Most of the businesses in Vienna were facing the same problem.

* * *

One side effect showed itself a month or so after they started giving credit. There were a number of government employees who got paid either spottily or not at all. And quite a few of them had bought clothing, packaged foods, or other products from one or more of the shops that had sprung up near the race track. When Albertus Kappel, one of the “Them of Vienna,” decided to shake down SFIC for a large bribe, he ran right into a brick wall. That wall wasn’t the emperor, it was the clerks.

“How did he find out about us?” Gayleen Sanderlin asked.

Barbara Klein grimaced. “It was the IOUs. They all say Sanderlin-Fortney Investment Company.”

“So this guy, one of your customers, came in and told you this. . just out of the blue?”

“Young Benedictus owes us quite a bit,” Barbara said. “He’s very in love with his own looks.” She grinned. “Very much in love with himself. But he’s not a bad boy and he knows we’ve been treating him fairly. Besides, if we get closed down, where would he get his clothes?”

In the various offices of the city and national government, clerks who owed SFIC money provided warning and back-dated forms documenting that everything had been done by the book. Well, most of it had, but it was impossible to follow all the regulations. Having clerks who owed you money helped when it came to paperwork.

* * *

“Yes, I know they have an agreement with the emperor,” Albertus Kappel snapped. “But that doesn’t make Race Track Village an imperial city. And it is within the traditional purview of Vienna. Legally, it is no more than a village owned by the emperor and his partners. Not even crown lands, but part of the emperor’s personal holdings. Besides, we have more of the up-timers now.”

“Fine. But the emperor is a part-owner of Race Tra-the village,” Peter Grochen said.

“We will not be asking the emperor for anything. But this Sanderlin-Fortney Investment Company is abusing the emperor’s trust and getting above itself.” Visibly, Albertus got himself under control. “The new emperor is young and perhaps overly enthusiastic about up-time innovations. But he has advisers. . older, wiser heads. . that he will listen to. This flaunting of the traditional privileges of ‘Them of Vienna’ has to stop.”

Peter Grochen, who was no more pleased with Race Track City than Albertus-but was rather more leery of imperial whim-left Albertus to it.

* * *

“The tradition and law has always been that the Hofbefrieten, court merchants, do not pay municipal taxes,” Albertus Kappel granted portentously. “But these are not Hofbefrieten. They haven’t paid the fees the royal court charges for that privilege. Yet they don’t pay the onera that guild artisans and merchants pay, either. Nor have their techniques been approved under the rules of the guilds of Vienna.”

“Perhaps,” Ferdinand III said calmly, “that is because they are not in Vienna.” Ferdinand III was pretty good at saying things calmly when he would prefer to rip someone’s head off. It was part of the job and he had been raised to the work. “Race Track City is located on imperial lands, almost four miles from the city wall.”

It was clear to Ferdinand III that Kappel wasn’t thrilled with how the interview was going, but the jackass went gamely on. “They are within the cities environs, Your Majesty.”

“No, they are not!” Ferdinand III said.

“Your Majesty, while the land is owned by Your Majesty, it is not, in fact, crown lands.”

Ferdinand held out a hand, and into it was placed a document that bore several seals. One of them, in fact, was Albertus Kappel’s own seal. The document acknowledged that the land in question was not legally part of Vienna or its environs. Ferdinand was a little curious about where it had come from, but not very. As it happened, Albertus’ clerk, Benedictus, had handed that document to Albertus Kappel a week before, in a stack of similar documents that Kappel had signed and sealed as a matter of course, without ever looking at the contents of any of them. Ferdinand showed Kappel the document and the seal.

For Albertus Kappel, the interview went downhill from there. Albertus was one of those who held both imperial and city rank, which wasn’t supposed to happen, but did constantly. By the end of the interview, he held neither.

* * *

Albertus’ secretary, Benedictus, was the dapper young man with a taste for clothes that really shouldn’t have been beyond his means-if he had been being paid what he was supposed to be paid. Benedictus and several other young men found that their debts to several shops in Race Track City had been forgiven. After that, the SFIC-backed businesses had very little trouble from the burghers of Vienna, as long as they didn’t try to do business in Vienna proper.

The race track, with the support of Ferdinand III, developed its own small town with barbershops, beauty shops, restaurants, a tailor shop. A toy store that sold little casein plastic models of the 240Z, and other cars and trucks. Casein dolls, which if not up to the standards of a Barbie, weren’t all that bad. Also soccer balls, baseballs, softballs, and bats, toy soldiers, lego-style blocks, and a variety of other items. There was a grocery and dry goods store which sold packaged foods, makeup, toiletries, casein containers for holding things like dried beans and flour.

Through it all, almost no one knew that Hayley was financing most of it.

* * *

SFIC wasn’t the only investor in new tech. Even before Emperor Ferdinand II had died, up-time tech had been creeping in. The cheat sheets that were produced for the USE worked just as well in what was left of the HRE. The burghers and Hofbefrieten of Vienna adopted them and many of them had to do with how to get more product out of less labor. As the new tech was put in place, the amount of product increased as the need for labor decreased. When the old emperor died, the new emperor tried to get as much of the new tech as he could.

What none of them realized, not Hayley, not the emperor, not the emperor’s advisers, and not the burghers and Hofbefrieten of Vienna, was that they were all making the economy worse. It’s what Hayley hadn’t known, save that something was wrong with the economy, and she needed Sarah Wendell to tell them what.