1636: The Viennese Waltz

CHAPTER 26

August 1635

Liechtenstein House, Vienna

Johannes Koell, the bookkeeper for the Liechtenstein family, was in love. Not with Susan Logsden, but with her computer. It took a few weeks for the love affair to blossom. At first he had looked at the whole thing askance. The “desktop computer,” the battery pack and transformer, the pedal-powered generator to provide power. The down-time-made from a combination of up-time parts dot-matrix printer. It all seemed like expensive gewgaws, designed to disguise the basic lack of mathematical skill of the girl. However, young Prince Karl had insisted, so Johannes provided a room and guards and a kitchen boy to pedal the generator and change the batteries.

He objected when Prince Karl insisted that he provide Millicent and her assistant with copies of the account books. There was private Liechtenstein information in those books. That was some weeks ago.

In those few weeks, Millicent, her assistant, and one of his apprentice accountants had been doing something called “data entry.” It wasn’t a long time. They had, in fact, barely scratched the surface. But by concentrating on one set of transactions, they had enough for a demonstration. The transactions selected were the rents paid by both the crown and the regular tenants of an apartment building on Market Street, placed against the costs of upkeep. The picture wasn’t heartening. The crown rents were in arrears by more than a year and private rents were far from up-to-date. In response, the upkeep-basic repairs that any building needed now and again-had been put on hold. With the consequence that what would have been minor fixes had gotten worse to the point that they were now going to cost twice to three times as much as the regular repairs would have cost.

Which, as it happened, was what Johannes had been arguing for the past several months but had been unable to prove.

“While we’re happy to help out,” Judy Wendell informed him, “the computer is not owned by the Liechtenstein family, but by Susan. And using it just for one family’s books, even the Liechtenstein books, would be a horrible waste of resources. So what we propose to do is open an accounting firm. When Susan isn’t using the computer for her investment strategies, the accounting firm will have access to it for use in keeping the books of various businesses around Vienna. Sometime soon, the Liechtenstein family, with your advice, will need to decide whether or not it will engage the services of our firm.”

“Perhaps I should rent time on the emperor’s aqua computer.”

Johannes was a bit surprised when the up-timer girl nearly rolled on the floor laughing. For rather a long time.

Between gasps, she said, “Be my guest. I promise you, that old desktop of Susan’s, as antique as it was up-time, has about a hundred times more power than the aqualator. At least. You’ll pay the emperor twice as much and wait four times as long for the results.

“Don’t get me wrong,” Judy continued, wiping her eyes. “I actually love the aqualator. But they are not as fast, they are not as powerful. And if you’re going to go that route, you’d probably be better off buying your own in a year or so. I’ll bet you a couple of reichsthaler that in a year, just like computers up-time, they’ll have a better, faster model.”

After some consideration, Johannes recommended to House Liechtenstein that they use the Barbies’ computer. Besides, there was no point in having the family accounts put at risk of exposure by going to an outside firm.

Race Track City

Anna was spending her Sunday afternoon at Race Track City. Word was that the emperor would be doing speed runs at the track and it seemed like half the city of Vienna was out enjoying the midsummer air.

“Oh!” Anna stopped dead in the street. “Oh, would you look at that.” She wasn’t speaking to anyone in particular, since she’d come alone. But the words just flew out.

It was a bra. A lace bra. “Oh.” On a mannequin. “Oh, my.” In the window, with a sign. “Oh, I want one. I want two.”

She hesitated. Bras were the very latest thing. Everyone who was anyone had one.

She made her way to the window. And stared. “Oh.”

“Would you like to try one on?” the shopkeeper asked, knowing a sale when she saw one.

“Oh.” Anna hesitated some more. “Oh, yes. But I know it’s going to be too expensive.”

“Oh, we can work something out.”

* * *

After the fitting, still wearing her new acquisition, Anna began turning out her bag to see how much money she had. In the process, she pulled out her latest purchase of BarbieCo stock.

The shopkeeper asked, “What’s that? It’s pretty fancy printing.”

Anna explained, while continuing to check inside her bag. She didn’t have enough money.

“Let me send a runner,” the shopkeeper said. “I’m curious about something.”

A boy was called over and sent on an errand. Anna said, “I guess I’d better take this off. I just don’t have quite enough money on me. Can you put it back for me? I’ll be back next week to pick it up.”

“Surely, if that’s what you want. But let’s wait just a few minutes, until the boy comes back. We do sometimes give credit, if your reputation is good and your employment steady.”

Anna laughed. “I work for the people who issue these stock certificates.”

“In that case, your credit is probably pretty good. At least here in Race Track City.”

The boy came running back and passed the shopkeeper a note, which she read aloud. “This is from Mrs. Sanderlin. It says ‘BarbieCo stock certificates are to be accepted at par value, good as cash. The par value is written on the stock certificate.’” She looked at Anna. “So you do have enough money, after all.”

Liechtenstein House, Vienna

As soon as Anna got back to work, she began telling about her purchase, and even showing the lace off a bit. Anna was just a bit vain about her looks.

“Where did you get the money? I saw one of those and it was too expensive.”

“Race Track City. Frau Krauss’ shop.”

“Yep. That’s where I saw it. Did she give you a special price? I’ll go there tomorrow and insist on the same one if she did.”

“No. But she took my BarbieCo stock certificate. Said it was as good as cash. She even gave me change.”

* * *

That started the story of BarbieCo money. It wasn’t as planned as they might have preferred, but it wasn’t unplanned either. Word spread from servant to workman, from tavern to shop. And the Barbies went to considerable effort to convince people that they would really prefer not to let any of the stock out of their control.

The shopkeeper Anna had talked to got her bras from a four shift “sweat shop,” which, in turn, made them using the Higgins sewing machine brought by the Fortneys. By now everyone in Race Track City had heard about Hayley Fortney being one of the Barbies. Based on that, the shopkeeper had been considering taking the stock in trade. She was doing well now and the notion of a bit of investment for the future appealed to her. But she wanted to hear what Frau Sanderlin thought about it first. The “good as cash” from the note had been a bit of a surprise, so once race day was over she headed for the Sanderlin house-stock certificate in hand-to find out what was going on. The maid let her in. Frau Sanderlin was usually willing to talk to the merchants and craftsmen of Race Track City, and today was no different, except a little busier. Race days always were, especially since they added horse racing to the 240Z and Sonny Steamer laps.

There were half a dozen merchants who were bringing in IOU’s they had gotten from customers. And Frau Krauss, the shopkeeper who had taken Anna’s stock certificate. The others were a bit concerned because SFIC was getting more strict about who they would let the shopkeepers give credit to. They had to be. Frau Krauss was simply curious. She already had approval.

Frau Sanderlin wasn’t all that helpful. “I don’t really understand, but Hayley was here when the boy came with the note. It’s one of the Barbies’ business deals. I understand Susan Logsden doesn’t want their investment diluted by too many shareholders, so they buy them back whenever they can get them.”

Frau Krauss didn’t know it, but Gayleen Sanderlin didn’t understand what Hayley had told her even as well as Gayleen had thought. The Barbies weren’t in any great hurry to buy back BarbieCo stock. But Hayley realized that reputation was important, so the Barbies would, at least for now, buy them at par value in reichsthaler. To Gayleen, the important part had been that Hayley said they were as good as cash. Frau Krauss was left with the impression that they were better, since you could spend them if you wanted to, but if you held onto them they would grow at two percent a year or more.

* * *

The next morning, there was a sign by the door of the shop. WE ACCEPT BARBIECO STOCK. GOOD AS CASH. That led her neighbors to question her, and Frau Krauss explained the situation, adding her own interpretation and not clarifying what came from her and what from Frau Sanderlin.

The next day there were similar signs on half a dozen shops in Race Track City. And still more the day after.

* * *

Tuesday morning, before having the Fortneys over to dinner the next day, Duchess Eisenberg and two other ladies of the court were in Race Track City. They intended to buy some of the strawberry wine that was becoming quite popular with the very upper crust of Vienna after the dowager empress had come out to see her stepson race around the track and discovered it.

The wine had quadrupled in price in the last week and Duchess Sophia Eisenberg wasn’t at all sure that her servants would have the clout to get some. Besides, any excuse to go out to Race Track City was a good excuse. After it had been learned that she had invited the Fortneys to her home, she had found herself the center of a storm of curiosity. So, along with her servants, this trip had her accompanied by Katharina Schembera, Maximillian von Liechtenstein’s wife, and Gundaker von Liechtenstein’s daughter, Maximilliana Constanzia, called Liana, who had married Johann Baptist Mathias von Thurn und Valsassina about five years before.

The trip was quite fun. They chatted as the pontoon boat carried them down the Danube to the canal, and up the canal to the docks. The emperor wasn’t racing today, but the Sonny Steamer would be making a few laps this afternoon, driven by Bob Sanderlin. Which Liana, in particular, was looking forward to. She was trying to get her husband to have such a car built.

The weather was warm and the flowers were blooming. There were smells of baking bread and sausages from the shops along the street. They reached the wine shop and swept in. Duchess Eisenberg proclaimed to the air, “I will have ten bottles of the strawberry wine.” She knew about the fad of addressing servants and merchants directly, but it made her uncomfortable. Not so much with her own servants, whom she knew, but with a clerk in a wine shop such familiarity might lead to who knew what. The next thing you knew the fellow would be asking her for an introduction at court or a loan.

“I am most sorry, but there is no more.”

“What? Why not?”

“It was an experiment suggested by some of the texts that young Brandon Fortney von Up-time brought with him,” the shopkeeper explained. “We only made a gross of bottles and we almost didn’t make those. We used strawberries from the imperial gardens and mixed the juice with the grapes from. .” He apparently saw her expression because he stopped explaining how the wine was made. “Well, anyway, we could only make a little. The strawberries in the imperial garden plots were not extensive before last year and this year’s crop will make next year’s wine. Most of our limited stock went to the imperial cellars and Victoria Emerson von Up-time bought several bottles as well.”

“What else do you have?” asked Liana.

“We have a pear and spice wine that uses cinnamon. Here, let me get you ladies glasses.” While other clerks took over the serving of the rest of the wine shop customers, the owner himself served them.

The pear and spice wine proved to be a bit cloying. The sweetness overwhelmed the other flavors. Then they tried a brandy that had been made from the same wine and it worked. The bottles of the brandy were expensive, and when the change came it wasn’t all in reich money.

“What are these?” Duchess Sophia asked the owner, startled into speaking directly to him.”

“Those are BarbieCo money. If you would prefer we can give you reich money. It makes no difference to us.”

She examined one of the bills. It was mostly pink, with other colors in the background. She had seen the young woman at the reception the emperor had held for Prince Karl Eusebius’ intended. She had also seen faces on money before. In fact, two of them. One was the face of Ferdinand II, and the other was the face of Ferdinand III. She pulled another bill out. Orange dominated this one and the portrait was the young woman who had been so rude to Father Lugocie. The bill’s printing said that it was worth twelve groschen of BarbieCo stock. She looked back at the first one. One pfennig. She read more carefully. The bill itself didn’t say it was money, but stock. She wasn’t sure what that meant, but she doubted that it had much to do with cattle or sheep. Sophia suddenly felt a chill run down her spine. Here was something that looked a lot like the new paper reich money, except for the fact that it was clearly better. The colors were vibrant and the engraving was neither smudged or scratched. Sophia knew quality work, and this was quality. “Please,” she said to a shopkeeper for the first time she could remember, “may I see the other sorts of bills of this BarbieCo money?”

“Yes, I would like to see it as well,” Liana said.

“Of course,” the shopkeeper said. “Is anything wrong?” He went back to his cash box and dug out several bills.

He brought them back and said, “There is one more bill, but I have none. The susans are for large transactions and the value is set when they are issued.” He handed Duchess Sophia a stack of bills and Sophia went through them quickly, noting the color and denomination of each bill. The green thaler note had a picture of Judy Wendell, the sister of Sarah Wendell. And then there was the purple note. It had the face of Hayley Fortney on it, looking like a younger version of Dana Fortney, and it said “One Mark.” She held it up to the shopkeeper. “What is this worth?”

The shopkeeper blinked. “One mark, a Cologne mark. Not silver but it’s worth the same, except it earns interest too. They all do.”

“Interest?” she asked. Sophia hadn’t read the back of the bill.

“It’s on the back. One fiftieth of the value of the bill every year, from the date on the bill.” He reached over and pointed to the date.

Sophia nodded. There was Hayley Fortney’s face and One Cologne Mark. Further, this was the largest of all the bills. To Sophia the obvious conclusion was that Hayley Fortney was the most important of the Barbies.

Katharina spoke up. “We would like to buy all these bills.” She looked over at one of the servants. “Pay him.”

The shopkeeper, clearly very nervous but sticking to his guns, would not take one pfennig less than the marked amount on the bills.

* * *

“No,” Sophia said to Katharina. “You can take the others to show Maximillian and the emperor. I will be taking the hayli.” They were on the pontoon boat, heading back to Vienna.

Katharina looked at her. “All right, but you owe me a Cologne mark.” She laughed. “Though if your son’s suit should prosper, that will be nothing to you.”

“I note that Sarah Wendell is not on a bill, and that Judy is only a thaler.”

“And I note that Sarah and Karl are engaged and your son hasn’t even walked out with Hayley,” said Liana.

The Hofburg Palace, Vienna

“It’s not actually illegal,” von Trauttmansdorff said. “Not, at least, unless you say it is. I think we could make a case for outlawing them by claiming that they intend its use as money. But I have read the paragraph on the back describing it, and it is preferred participating stock. It doesn’t promise that it will ever be exchangeable for reich money.”

“The shopkeeper-” Peter von Eisenberg started, and von Trauttmansdorff interrupted.

“I know, but that was the action of the shopkeeper. No different than insisting that he be paid for any other thing he was selling. If he had insisted on a Cologne mark for a bottle of wine, that wouldn’t make the wine money.”

“We can’t have them printing money, whatever they call it,” Maximillian von Liechtenstein said.

“Why not?” asked Moses Abrabanel.

“Because they aren’t paying for the privilege,” Gundaker insisted. “The minting of money is a prerogative of the crown that the crown delegates to the minters of money in exchange for silver.”

“We are under no obligation at all to accept their stock in payment of taxes, nor for anything else. But we’ve known for over a year now that we needed to introduce more money into the economy. Let them issue their stock. If it fails, it won’t reflect on us.”

Emperor Ferdinand snorted. “That’s a weak argument, Moses.”

“With all due respect, Your Majesty, we are in a weak position. With the USE sucking the silver out of Europe, our economy is on the edge of disaster.”

“And what happens when others copy them?” Gundaker asked. “When some imperial knight from the back of nowhere starts trying to pay his debts in stock certificates?”

“Who’s going to take it?” Moses asked back. “Certainly not me.”

“Are you going to take this BarbieCo stock?”

Moses stopped, clearly considering the question. “I honestly don’t know. But even if I don’t, the shopkeepers in Race Track City are. And not just the ones that are partly owned by the Sanderlin-Fortney Investment Company.”

“My Hofbefreiten are taking it?” Ferdinand III asked. He had been busy in the capital for the last week while all this was happening. He hadn’t known a thing about it till this meeting.

“Most of them,” Moses said. “Why not? At most they need to walk across the street to exchange it. And, besides, it earns interest.”

“You honestly think I should endorse this, Moses?”

“No, Your Imperial Majesty, not in the least. I think you should take no official notice of it at all.”

“And if I am having linzertorte at the cafe and am offered a Barbie in change?”

“Take it,” Moses said. “As long as you don’t take too many of them, I’ll buy them from you. I don’t know if this will do any good or not. But if it all goes wrong, we get no blame. And if it works, it might help the economy. On the other hand, if we shut them down, we will get the blame for that.”

Eisenberg House, Vienna

Duke Peter von Eisenberg looked at his wife. “The emperor isn’t going to shut them down, at least not now. Neither is he going to endorse it.”

“What does that mean? We have that whole family coming here this evening. She has her face on money! Is it good money?”

“I don’t know! No one knows if the Barbies do n’t. Moses Abrabanel thinks it might work. Gundaker thinks it will fail. Karl Eusebius wasn’t in the meeting and I would give three villages to know what he thinks.” Peter’s tirade cut off as though by a knife. For a very long fifteen seconds, he just stood there. “It’s good money.”

“What?”

“I do know what Karl Eusebius thinks about it, because there’s no way that they are issuing this BarbieCo stock without his consent.”

“Kipper and Wipper,” Sophia said.

“Karl Eusebius is not his father.”

* * *

“Welcome to Eisenberg house,” Sophia said, looking past her guests at the carriage on the street.

“We were going to come in the Steamer,” Sonny Fortney said, “or maybe the Range Rover. But they are made for the track, not the streets of Vienna. So we borrowed Bob’s carriage.”

“It looks like the emperor’s new carriage,” Sophia said.

“It should. It’s basically identical to it, except for the crest on the doors and some of the interior touches. It has the same air shocks and lamps.”

Sophia and Peter looked out at the carriage again. On the door were painted crossed wrenches, a monkey wrench crossing a crescent wrench. Not that they could tell what kind of wrenches. They were just tools done in silver on a red shield background.

“Are you allowed a crest?” Peter asked.

“The emperor didn’t seem to mind. He got a good laugh out of it. Started calling Bob the knight of the monkey wrench.”

Peter looked at Sonny Fortney and tried not to show his shock. If Emperor Ferdinand had named Bob Sanderlin a knight even in jest, how long was it going to be before the joke was made legal reality? “Well, please, come in,” Peter said with a gesture.

They all went into the house. It was a mix of condescension and curiosity that had brought Peter and Sophia to the door of their town house. They knew that greeting your guests at the door was the custom in Grantville, where servants were still much less common than elsewhere in the USE, much less the rest of Europe. And after seeing the hayli bill, Peter and Sophia were being careful not to give offense.

“So what are you working on now, Herr Fortney?” Peter asked once they got settled in the receiving room.

“The railroad-mostly the road part at the moment, not the rail part, because the permission for a railroad in Austria is still held up in committee so far. But we don’t need permission to do the grading and preparing. All that is, is road improvement.”

“There are serious concerns about the railroad, as you are no doubt aware. And it’s not just the potential military threat, but concerns over Austrian silver pouring into Bohemia at an even faster rate.”

“Well, Hayley. .” Sonny Fortney turned to his daughter.

“Even if that were a problem, all the railroad would do is make it quicker. What you need are your own industries, so the silver will flow the other way.”

“What sort of industries?”

“All sorts. Mining, manufacturing, farming. .” Hayley and Peter talked about the potential industries in the Austro-Hungarian empire for a while. Peter was impressed and a little terrified. Especially when Hayley ended with, “But you really need to talk to Susan Logsden and Sarah Wendell about that. I’m mostly a tech geek.”

“What is a tech geek?” asked Sophia.

“I mean, I mostly handle the mechanical parts of the industries. How to make things.”

“So, how do airplanes work?” asked Count Marton von Debrecen, their son-in-law. He had been married to Polyxena, their daughter, and wasn’t sure to what extent the up-timers were responsible for the death of his wife at the hands of Maximilian of Bavaria’s executioners.

Hayley looked at him, surprised. Peter couldn’t tell whether it was the question or the challenging tone. He was about to apologize, but it proved unnecessary. The girl, after only a slight pause, explained. “Lift is a function of the shape of the wing and something called Bernoullie’s Principle. Bernoullie lived in the eighteenth century in our timeline, and will probably never be born in this one. But he figured out how air flowing over a surface or through a pipe acted, and later people used that to figure out how to shape wings and get lift out of them without flapping. I have the figures at home and can show them to you, if you’re interested. In fact, Dr. Faust, our tutor, and my little brother are building a glider. Just to test the principles.”

“You’re building an airplane?”

“Just a glider,” Dana Fortney said. “It’s to teach Brandon the theory of aeronautics and it’s based on a design that Hal Smith has vetted back in Grantville. Frankly, I would have been more comfortable if they hadn’t ever started the thing. And I am thankful for the farm, and the up-time plants, and even the bugs, that keep distracting him from the deathtrap.”

“It’s not a deathtrap, honey. It’s quite well built,” Sonny said.

“So it’s a well-built deathtrap,” Dana said with some heat, apparently going over a long-running argument. “You know perfectly well that the danger is pilot error and with no qualified pilots to teach them, pilot error is a virtual certainty.”

Peter looked at his wife, and his wife looked back at him. He sympathized with Dana Fortney’s concerns, but at least no one was going to chop her daughter’s head off. Then he thought about the BarbieCo stock that was just starting to circulate and realized that that wasn’t necessarily true.

They had a five course meal and the Fortneys politely thanked the servants with every course, often asking them to carry their compliments to the chef. It made Peter feel boorish not to be doing so, especially since first Amadeus, then Marton, started copying them.

Discussion was wide-ranging. Politics and engineering, economics and medicine, nutrition and vegetables. Sophia was surprised when Dana mentioned that her family had a vegetarian meal at least once a week, which often included beans and cornbread, made from corn imported from Spain.

“But surely you can afford meat if you are paying for maize from Spain.”

“It’s not a matter of cost, but of health. Too much fat is bad for you and the occasional vegetarian meal helps clean the system.”

All in all, it was a confusing evening, vaguely uncomfortable, but highly intriguing. The stock certificates were brought up and Hayley Fortney rolled her eyes, then the boy Brandon said, “Moo,” only to be admonished by his mother.

Then Dana turned to Sophia and asked, “Was Amadeus as silly as Brandon is when he was eleven?”

“I don’t understand?”

“Brandon has noted that a hayli is the price of a cow or close to it. And, not yet being civilized, he has latched on to that to tease his sister. And it wasn’t her fault. Heather Mason, back in Grantville, decided who went on which bill.”

“Which one is Heather Mason?” asked Peter. “I thought they were all in Vienna. Which certificate is she on?”

“Heather, the rat,” said Hayley, “isn’t on any of them. But she’s going to be. I’ve written Dave Marcantonio a letter insisting that we need a half-pfennig coin and Heather would be perfect for it.”

“Coin?” Marton asked. “I thought you disdained silver.”

“Yes, we do, mostly. But this won’t be a silver coin. It will probably be made of iron or copper, maybe bronze. No more metallic value than the paper. Just a marker like the rest of them are.”

Sophia was running the conversation through her head and suddenly she laughed. Everyone turned to her and she said, “Yes, as it happens, Amadeus was just as silly as Brandon when he was eleven. He put a garden snake in Polyxena’s bed one time.”

Suddenly Hayley was looking very severely at Amadeus. Sophia laughed again, and almost decided she liked the young woman. “That was the first time I have been able to laugh like that since it happened,” she said.

“Since what happened?” Dana asked.

“My wife. .” said Marton, “. . was a lady in waiting to Princess Maria Anna when she went to Bavaria to be married to Maximilian. She was executed after Maria Anna ran away. I don’t see how she was implicated in that escapade. Polyxena could be a bit silly about social position, but she wouldn’t have done anything so insane.”

“I’m sorry for your loss,” Dana said. “We were on the road when all that happened, so we never learned what was going on.”

That put something of a damper on the evening for a while. Still, Marton did promise to go out to Race Track City and see the glider.