1636: The Viennese Waltz

CHAPTER 19

June 1635

Liechtenstein House, Vienna

Dinner was going fine, Karl thought. They were using the gold-electroplated flatware from the Wish Book, which Karl found amusing. The tableware was Viennese-made china-style porcelain. The tablecloth was linen, with lace doilies for the place settings. It was surprising how much of the Liechtenstein dinner setting was out of Grantville, in style if not in fact. Conversation was light, mostly about Karl’s investments in Grantville and Amsterdam.

Having met Fernando, King in the Low Countries, before he became king, Karl expressed the belief that Maria Anna had made on her own a better match than her father had provided. “Especially since I doubt Maximilian of Bavaria will survive much longer.”

“And suppose Gustav oversteps? Perhaps is killed?” Maximillian von Liechtenstein asked, suddenly serious.

“It’s possible, I suppose, but I doubt it. And even if he does, it won’t make that much difference. The duke of Bavaria has cut himself off from most of his support. He has the USE to the north and Austria-Hungary to the south and east, Bernard’s territory to the southwest and no one much cares for him. The USE is the real problem for him. They are both too strong and too rich for him to do more than annoy. . and he annoys them at his peril.”

“On that subject, how is it that the USE let you take one of their airplanes?”

“Actually, the plane we arrived in is owned by King Fernando,” Karl said.

“He bought TEA and converted it to Royal Dutch Airlines this spring,” Sarah said.

“The USE doesn’t object?” Maximillian asked.

“Not really. About half the ownership is from the Netherlands and always was. People who got out of Amsterdam just before the siege closed in. With the settlement, several of them have gone back to Amsterdam. TEA now has several Jupiters, although they have trouble keeping more than one or two in the air at any one time. Otherwise, it would have been difficult to get the charter flight when we came here, even considering that Karl owns about five percent and the Barbies own another three.”

“The Barbies?” asked Maximillian’s wife, Katharina, as a maid served soup from her left, just as the up-time manuals said she should. “I thought those were dolls? One of my friends has a Barbie doll that was bought in Venice for seventy-five guilders. It came with a certificate of authenticity, confirming that it was a real up-time produced Barbie doll owned by Delia Higgins.”

“Delia’s dolls have certainly traveled.” Sarah smiled. The serving maid placed a bowl of soup before her. Sarah turned to the young woman and said, “Thank you. It smells delicious,” before turning back to answer Karl’s Aunt Katharina, not noticing the sudden stiffness in the postures of Gundaker and Countess Aldringer. Uncle Max didn’t seem all that upset, but Sarah was still talking. “The Barbies I was referring to are my younger sister and her friends. Like Delia Higgins and some others in town, they had a collection of dolls, mostly Barbie dolls. The girls sold them and used the money to go into investing, starting with a good number of shares of HSMC.”

“How is it your parents allowed that?” Gundaker asked.

“Allowed what?”

“Allowed investment in business.”

Sarah looked at Gundaker in confusion. “Isn’t that what your family does? I mean, Kipper and Wipper and, well, some looting of Protestant lands, is where most of your family’s wealth came from, but wasn’t it mostly business? Granted, your brother, Karl’s father, wasn’t very good at it, but that was at least in part because you didn’t have the theory to understand what you were doing.”

Karl cringed. Gundaker was looking for reasons not to like Sarah and she had just given him two. Karl had seen his automatic distaste for Sarah from the greetings when they had landed. But if there was one thing that Gundaker cared about more than any other, it was the family’s reputation as nobility, not mere merchants or tradesmen.

* * *

“Are you out of your mind?” Gundaker poured himself a brandy from the table of drinks set out in the library. “The girl is little more than a servant. Cunning and low. And don’t give me that crap about up-timers’ nobility. The Barclays have been riding that to death. No one believes it, less now than when they arrived.”

Karl had been planning on bringing up the miraculous nature of the Ring of Fire, but now didn’t seem to be the right time. Opinions about the class into which the up-timers fell varied quite a bit. He walked over and sat in one of the leather-upholstered chairs.

“Calm down, Brother.” Maximillian sipped his brandy and leaned back in his chair. “Granted, the Barclays haven’t produced that much in the way of results. Yet. But it’s been less than a year. And honestly, they have a point about the lack of funding.”

“I know and that’s not what I’m talking about,” Gundaker said. “It’s their attitude. They act as though we were some primitive tribesmen. Then they turn around and act like some obsequious tailor, whining about the cost of cloth.”

Karl couldn’t resist a snort. If that was what Uncle Gundaker was used to from the Barclays and their associates, he was in for a rude awakening. Not that Sarah was all that socially astute, but she was aware of her lack of social skills. And Judy the Barracudy was about as socially skilled as anyone Karl had met short of Dowager Empress Eleonora. Gundaker was looking at him waiting for an explanation of his snort.

“There’s an expression I got from David Bartley, Uncle,” Karl tried to explain. “‘A rising tide lifts all boats.’ Grantville, the Ring of Fire, the whole area, is experiencing a rapidly rising economic tide. And while it hasn’t lifted all the fortunes of all the up-timers, it’s done a pretty decent job. In that environment, the Barclays felt themselves so unsuccessful that they were willing to move to Vienna, where there would be less competition. The Barclays have skills, serious skills even by the standards of the up-timers. So why, Uncle? Why were they available? Why weren’t they busy getting rich in Grantville or Magdeburg?”

“Why?” Maximillian leaned forward, looking at Karl.

“Understand, I had met only two members of the Barclay group, and that only once or twice in passing. After they left there was quite a bit of discussion as to why, but most of it second- or third-hand. Just rumors really.” Karl shrugged away any personal knowledge of the Barclays or their companions. “The word in Grantville was that they were ‘Never Workers.’ With almost every project or company that has been started since the Ring of Fire there has been someone, usually more than one, explaining why it would ‘never work.’ The right tools aren’t available. The down-time craftsmen aren’t up to the challenge. That’s not the way they did it before the Ring of Fire. Sometimes the ‘Never Workers’ are right and sometimes not.

“But right or wrong, they don’t put their money, or their time or energy, into the project. When it does work, they make no profit, because they weren’t involved. When it doesn’t work, they take no loss but again, they make no profit. Uncle, while I was in Grantville I made fifteen major investments and a host of minor ones. Of the fifteen, six were unmitigated failures and three were ‘Grantville failures,’ which means they broke even or made only a little profit. The least profitable of the real successes paid for all six failures. From what I understand, the Barclays made no major investments. Partly that was because they were visiting Grantville at the time of the Ring of Fire, so they had very little money to invest. But they also failed to invest their labor, requiring payment up front for whatever services they provided.” Karl grinned at his uncle. “In the same amount of time, Sarah went from a child with no money of her own to an independently wealthy young woman.”

“I take it you’re saying your young lady. .” Maximillian von Liechtenstein paused clearly looking for just the right phrase, “. . is different from the Barclays.”

Karl nodded.

“What about the Sanderlin and Fortney families?” Gundaker asked. “Those girls seemed well acquainted with the daughter of the mechanic that the emperor hired to take care of his toys.”

Karl paused. He had not given a great deal of thought to why Sonny Fortney had gone to Vienna while his daughter was getting rich in Grantville. He had just assumed that family necessity had trumped the daughter’s preference. But Sonny had been added by the Sanderlins. That was clear, as he thought back on their discussions last year. Why had Sonny Fortney agreed to go? He was a friend of Herr Sanderlin, or at least he had seemed to be, but they hadn’t struck Karl as that close. And Karl had wanted him to survey a railroad, but that had come later. Karl pushed it from his mind. He had other matters to deal with. “Hayley Fortney is a member of the Barbie Consortium. She knows quite a bit about the mechanics of up-time tech and a reasonable amount about business. I would expect that she has done well here, hasn’t she?”

Gundaker’s son, Hartmann, had been to Grantville too, if only for a short time. He laughed. “Someone certainly has, though I had no idea that the girl was more than peripherally involved. I told you, Father, that they do things differently in Grantville.”

“They do things stupidly in Grantville, then,” Gundaker said. “Those idiots out at Race Track City are giving credit to all the wrong sort of people and they are going to lose their wealth when their debtors are unable to pay.”

“I wouldn’t count on that, Uncle,” Karl said. “Sarah is quite well off, but her younger sister is even wealthier. And a good part of-” Karl managed not to say “my wealth” and converted it to “-our wealth is due to the investments that the Barbies have made for me. I’ll have Josef look over the situation out at Race Track City when he gets here, but I suspect that they are in better shape than it might seem at first.”

“One hopes,” Maximillian said, “that they, or at least your Sarah, can help us to prepare for the Turks.”

“I don’t think that’s likely, Uncle,” Hartmann said. “At least not the young ladies. Julie Sims is more the exception than the rule, I think.”

“Are there rumblings from the Turks?” Karl asked.

“Yes, there are,” Maximillian said. “We’re not sure how serious it is yet, but His Majesty is starting to be concerned. Or, at least, his close adviser Janos Drugeth is concerned.”

“And you want Sarah’s help?”

“Moses Abrabanel seems to think she is some sort of financial genius,” Gundaker said, doubt clear in his voice.

“Well. .” Karl paused. “Yes. But David Bartley is the real businessman. Sarah is more oriented to the big picture, as she calls it. Understand, no actual economists came back with the Ring of Fire, but copies of economics books did. Sarah Wendell has read every economic book available. Literally, everything that is known in this time about economics, Sarah knows. That is not the same as knowing what they knew up-time, but in at least one way it’s better. They have some records of how the economy of the HRE developed in their history and they have the development of the USE since the Ring of Fire to compare it to. That is something the up-timers never had. Sarah has written several papers on comparative economics, focusing on the effect of monetary policy.”

* * *

While the men were at their brandy, the ladies were having wine and sweet cakes in another room. Sarah Wendell had pled fatigue and escaped to her rooms. Karl’s aunt Katharina was just as glad Sarah hadn’t joined them, since she would without doubt be the topic of conversation among the ladies this evening. The arrival of Sarah Wendell had brought to mind several things that were bothering her.

Her sister-in-law, Elisabeth Lukretia von Teschen, Gundaker’s estranged wife, was living in territory that was now under Wallenstein and apparently quite happy to do so. Most of Katharina’s own lands were now in the hands of Wallenstein as well, and at least nominally still in the family as long as Karl Eusebius remained in Wallenstein’s good graces.

Katharina started the ball rolling. “Did you see Gundaker’s face?”

The ladies chortled or sniffed as dictated by their attitude about the up-timers in general. There was considerably more sniffing than chortling.

“What do you expect? All the up-timers are peasants.” Countess Aldringer, whose husband had been made a count by Ferdinand II, was a countess mostly because of her husband’s money.

“Careful, dear. From what I understand she could buy your husband out of pocket change,” Katharina advised with a certain malice.

Countess Aldringer was clearly less than pleased at that observation. “There are other things than money.”

“Yes, there are,” Katharina said. “Charity, honor, piety. What I am less sure of by the day is how those things apply to the up-timers. And how they apply to us. When, after all, was it decided that showing appreciation of service lacked in charity, honor or piety?”

“It lacks in both charity and piety!” Countess Aldringer insisted, “because it encourages the sins of pride and sloth in the serving class. It confuses them as to their proper role. It is well known that the peasantry is at best easily confused and must be reminded of their station constantly. She did the serving girl no favor by her condescension.” She sniffed. “Not that it was much of a descent for that one, but how is a serving girl to know that?”

“Yet God put them here, and seems to favor their endeavors,” Gundaker’s daughter Maximilliana Constanzia, called Liana, said.

“Or the Devil,” Countess Aldringer countered. “Even Urban has not said they are God’s handiwork and Cardinal Borja has made his opinion clear.”

“Pope Urban!” Liana said hotly.

Gundaker’s daughter by his first wife was, in Katharina’s opinion, what the up-timers would call a suck-up. She was surprised that the young woman wasn’t parroting her father’s attitude toward the up-timers. She guessed that Liana was coming down on the Urban side of the issue. And that was strange. The girl’s confessor was a Dominican, after all.

* * *

Anna was wondering whether she was going to get in trouble for the up-timer lady talking to her. “I didn’t invite it,” she assured Stephen, the chief butler, who confronted her in the kitchen.

“You didn’t smile at her?” Stephen, who ruled the servant’s quarters with an iron hand, didn’t seem entirely convinced that Anna was innocent in the affair. “Look her in the eye?”

Anna’s head shook like it was about to come off. But Stephen didn’t hit her. Which came as something of a surprise.

“I will check with Their Serene Highnesses to see if you are to be dismissed,” he warned ominously. And that’s what he did.

* * *

Karl and his uncles were still discussing the effects of the up-timers when Stephen knocked politely on the door.

“Enter!” Stephen heard Prince Gundaker’s voice call. From the sound of it, it seemed unlikely that Anna would keep her position, which Stephen regretted. As harsh as he sometimes was with the under-servants, he did feel a responsibility to them.

“About the incident at supper?” he asked. Normally he would have dealt with the matter on his own and simply kept Anna out of sight of the nobility for a while. But he wasn’t at all sure how the up-timers would react.

“Now see!” Gundaker glared at Karl. “Your girl’s lack of manners mean we have a discipline problem among the servants. We’ll have to let the serving girl go, and it wasn’t really her fault.”

“There is no need to discharge the girl, Uncle.” Karl snorted. “If you discharge every girl Sarah is polite to, you’ll soon run out of servants.”

“Maybe it will teach your young woman a lesson,” Gundaker huffed. “Let the girl go and tell Sarah Wendell von Up-time why you’re doing it.”

“Stephen,” Karl interrupted. “Tell Sarah first.”

As Stephen left, he saw young Prince Karl looking at his uncle and shaking his head.

* * *

While Anna was wondering what her fate would be, the young ladies of the Barbie Consortium-now joined by Sarah-were finishing up their discussion. “Come on, Sarah,” said Susan. “You’re the economic theorist. Industrialization is not a cure for serfdom. If all that is going on is industrialization, it’s going to make things worse. Look at what’s happening in Poland.”

“You need a big consumer base,” Sarah insisted, “and without industrialization you can’t get that.”

“Eventually,” Susan said. “But at least in the short run, industrialization means a labor glut, because you need fewer farmers and craftsmen to produce the same amount of goods.”

“Yes and no. That same labor glut means you have the labor you need to get new industries off the ground. The real issue is whether you have a class of people ready and able to invest in those industries. In Poland, you don’t, because the great magnates would rather plow their wealth back into grain production-and to make sure they have the labor force they need, they’ve reimposed serfdom. They do some industrialization, but it’s more or less an afterthought and they use serfs as a labor force. The political and social situation is different in western and central Europe and the Ring of Fire is giving a big boost to the factors that keep pushing things forward here. It’s just. .”

“You didn’t expect to run headlong into Polish attitudes here in Austria,” Judy said.

“It makes sense, though,” Susan said. “Information has been flowing out of the Ring of Fire like mad ever since it happened. And for the most part, the lords of Europe have said yes to the technical stuff and a resounding no to the social stuff. So Austria-Hungary has the new plows, but all it means is that the lord of the manor can afford to throw half his peasants out and have that much more profit.”

Sarah’s expression got exasperated. “What ‘lords of the manor,’ Susan? Land tenure in Austria isn’t medieval. The core of the farming population is a class of prosperous farmers-peasants, not nobles, but they’re well-off peasants-who hire local labor on an annual basis. They’ll replace some of that labor force by adopting new equipment and techniques, sure, but they haven’t got enough money to do it quickly. Hell, even back up-time you didn’t see a massive mechanization of agriculture until the twentieth century.” She remembered the figures because she’d been struck by them at the time. “In 1900 almost forty percent of the American population was still engaged in farming. By the time of the Ring of Fire at the end of the century, that had dropped to three percent.”

“And your point is. .?”

“My point is obvious. We’re a long way from seeing a huge displacement of farm labor. There’s enough of a free labor force for industrialization to get started here, but the big problem Austria faces is a lack of capital. The damn idiots-the brains of the nobility are still mired in the Middle Ages, most of them-still think in terms of licenses and monopolies instead of investment. There are some exceptions, my fiance being one of them-Wallenstein’s another, up in Bohemia-but there aren’t enough yet.”

There was a knock on the door and Trudi went to answer it. It was Snooty from this afternoon. Stephen-something or other. Trudi didn’t think she had been told his last name. The majordomo, at least among the nontitled servants. Trudi stepped out and closed the door behind her. “Yes?”

“I need to speak with Sarah Wendell von Up-time.” Stephen was clearly not happy about his mission.

“In regard to?”

“There was an, ah. . incident at table. .”

“So I heard.”

“Prince Gundaker has decided that to maintain discipline among the house staff, the serving girl will be dismissed.” Stephen paused. “I am instructed to inform Lady Sarah of the dismissal and the reason for it.”

Trudi looked at Stephen. Then she turned and opened the door gesturing him inside. Trudi wasn’t sure what was going to happen but she had no doubt she was about to see fireworks.

As they came into the sitting room, Sarah was saying, “Barbaric customs. Maybe we should leave Ferdinand III and the whole bunch to stew in their own juices.”

Trudi wasn’t sure how much English Stephen had but he had apparently gotten at least some of it. She made a sweeping gesture and announced, “Here is Stephen, majordomo of Liechtenstein Palace, with a message for Sarah Wendell von Up-time.”

Silence. Every eye in the room was on the unfortunate Stephen. Stephen delivered his message.

“Was Prince Karl there when his uncle gave you your instructions?” Sarah asked, with a chill in her voice that suggested really bad things for the Ken Doll.

Trudi watched as Stephen swallowed. “Yes. It was he who insisted I inform you before dismissing Anna.”

“Smart boy,” Judy the Younger said.

Sarah looked at Judy with a question in her eyes.

“You were telling Karl all the way here that he wasn’t to run interference for you,” Judy reminded her sister. “Something about not wanting people to think that you couldn’t take care of yourself?”

Sarah nodded.

“So he made sure you would be informed before the servant. .” Judy turned to Stephen. “Anna, was it?” When he nodded, she turned back to her sister. “. . before Anna got her walking papers. And let you, well, us, deal with the matter as we see fit. He’s probably up there right now taking bets on how quickly you’re going to rip Gundaker’s guts out.”

Sarah had calmed down a little while Judy was talking. “Tempting as that thought is, it won’t help, ah, Anna. So how do we deal with this? Pack up our bags and move out?”

“Not at all.” Judy’s grin was very barracuda-ish. “I think it’s quite convenient. We were going to have to hire servants anyway. Prince Gundaker is graciously releasing one for us to hire. What is Anna paid?”

When Stephen told her, she shook her head. “That won’t do at all. Trudi, would you be a dear and go with Stephen here? And when he fires Anna, hire her. Pay her fifty percent more than she is getting now. It’s not like we’re short on Austro-Hungarian banknotes.” The girls had engaged in a bit of arbitrage before coming to Vienna, buying up Ferdinand’s silver certificates in Grantville where they were worth considerably less than they were in Vienna.

Trudi was stealing glances at Stephen while Judy was talking, wondering how he would respond. Apparently he was going to object. Which showed commendable loyalty to his boss, but perhaps not the greatest wisdom.

“With all due respect, ma’am,” he said to Judy the Younger, “I don’t think that’s what Prince Gundaker had in mind.”

Sarah jumped in. “I really don’t care what Gundaker had in mind,” she said coldly.

“On the other hand,” Millicent said, “we may want to move out to Race Track City just for the room.”