1636: The Viennese Waltz

CHAPTER 33

November 1635

Lichtenstein Tower Construction Site, Vienna

The work site at the Liechtenstein Tower was a happy place over the next few days. The royal proclamation that the Barbies were in charge of money in the empire meant that their pay was pretty much assured to be on time in the future. The same was true for the suppliers, so anything they needed that could be had was now available. The rotating kiln that would make massive amounts of concrete was still not operational, but hundreds of little ones, all up and down the Danube, were making up the lack, and the ball mill was busily turning clinker into powder. The basements were dug by the end of October and the workers were learning how to mix concrete under the guidance of Bob Sanderlin, a cheat sheet, and three doctors of natural philosophy from the University of Vienna.

Within a couple of weeks, the workers understood the process just fine and started pouring the basement walls. They also put up tents over the work sites to keep out the increasingly cold and wet weather.

The Hofburg Palace, Vienna

“I never asked to be made an imperial princess,” Sarah Wendell said, putting down her coffee cup.

“I know, my love, but it’s necessary,” Karl said. “First, you must have a rank that the great of the empire will recognize, and most of them don’t recognize von Up-time, not in any real sense.”

“Besides,” Judy added, “if you’re not going to be an imperial princess, how do the rest of us get away with it?”

“Judy, you don’t give a flying fig about being an imperial princess and you know it.”

“Yes, I do,” Judy said, then laughed. “Why, I’ve dreamed of being a princess since I got my princess Barbie when I was eight.”

“Along with being an astronaut and a ballerina and. .”

“Sure. But I don’t see a lot of space shuttles looking for pilots, so why not a princess? I’ll get myself a little tiara and wear it to fancy dress balls.”

“And swearing an oath of loyalty to Ferdinand III?”

“It’s a nonexclusive oath.”

Which is true enough, Sarah thought. It turned out that there were all sorts of oaths of allegiance, and several of them were nonexclusive. You could be a noble in the Austro-Hungarian Empire, and in Bohemia, and a citizen of the USE, all at once, and the oath they would have to swear recognized that. Karl was a noble, sworn to King Albrecht of Bohemia and Emperor Ferdinand III of Austria-Hungary, and he wouldn’t have to decide which side to fight on until one side or the other asked him to raise an army. Meanwhile, the deal that was shaping up would make Sarah and the Barbies-including Trudi-serene highnesses.

“Look, Sarah. We are in the seventeenth century and it’s not just the nobility that has problems with nonnobles in positions of authority. President Stearns isn’t the Prince of Germany because the nobles call him that, and Wettin won for a reason. Peasants as well as princes are uncomfortable with a lot of the CoC’s rhetoric, and they are a lot more uncomfortable with it here than in the USE.” Judy got up and walked around the table to squat next to Sarah’s chair. “I know that a lot of people in Grantville are going to figure we’ve gone native, and for all I know they may be right. Some of them are going to be convinced that we have betrayed the principles of America. But I don’t believe that. I think we can do more for those principles with Her Serene Highness in front of our names than we can without it. And I know if you’re going to reform the money of this nation, you need the title.”

“And what about our children? What if they don’t want to be serene highnesses? What if they want to be rodeo riders, or painters, or auto mechanics?”

“Then they can abdicate the title,” Karl said, “and it will go to the next branch. In the meantime, we need to finalize the designs for the new reich money. I still think that it should look as much like BarbieCo as we can make it.”

“I want members of the imperial house on the bills,” Sarah said. “The empress and Cecilia Renata, if not Ferdinand III. However it happened, money with women’s faces on it is more trusted here in the empire. But it doesn’t have to stay just the Barbies.”

And the negotiations continued.

An Inn in Vienna

It wasn’t Gundaker’s sort of place and even less Father Lamormaini’s, but the third man at the table was quite at home here. Adorjan Farkas was a squat man, with a scar on the right side of his face that went from his eyebrow to his beard. “I don’t care. As long as I am paid in silver, not this paper that people use here.”

“That won’t be a problem,” Gundaker said. And it wouldn’t. Gundaker still had a key to the vaults, and in the last weeks there was more and more silver in the vaults as trust in the bank was restored. He would have to be careful because the security precautions at the bank had been strengthened. . but he was in charge of those procedures.

“We will need many men, and they will have to be dependable,” Lamormaini said.

“What will they do?” Adorjan Farkas scratched his graying beard,

“Each group will have a target,” Gundaker explained. “And I don’t want any group to know the other’s targets. You will coordinate for us.”

“I will need to know what they are to do.”

Gundaker passed over a note. “Start with these names, but don’t act. I’ll have another list in a few days.” The list Gundaker gave the man had the names of the Barbies and Sarah, but not Karl or the imperial family. “The timing will have to be precise. They will all have to be. .” Gundaker would not obfuscate. “Killed, and at the same time, else the death of one increase the security on the others. For now, have them watched and learn their habits.”

Adorjan Farkas finished his beer then, while going over the list. “It will be expensive, but you can afford it, right? And you’ll want to wait till after the wedding, no doubt, so that your family inherits.”

Gundaker felt dirty as he left the squalid tavern, but in a strange way also invigorated. He was committed now. There was no turning back. . but then, there never really had been.

* * *

Leopold sat in his townhouse in Vienna and brooded. His brother had effectively endorsed Judy Wendell’s position. She and all her Barbies were to be ennobled. Even Trudi von Bachmerin, the daughter of a minor imperial knight from the back of nowhere, would become Her Serene Highness Trudi von Bachmerin. Granted, a Furstenstand was a considerably lower rank than Erzherzog, the rank Leo held. Leo felt his lips twitch. Gundaker must be having a fit. Damn it, even their expressions are creeping in. But it was true. The Barbies and, importantly, Sarah Wendel now held exactly the same rank that Gundaker, Maximilian and Karl Eusebius held. So all Gundaker’s plans had crashed on the reef of Sarah’s sudden elevation. He could at least take comfort in the fact that the Wendell girls were publicly humiliating more than just him.

He looked over at one wall where hung centerfolds and images from the up-time magazines Playboy, Penthouse and Hustler. They were carefully framed and had cost a pretty pfennig. He found himself wondering how Her Serene Highness Judy Wendel von Up-time would look posed as the April 1994 playboy centerfold was. Judy didn’t look anything like the model, but something about the pose brought Judy to mind.

He called for more wine and Marco brought it.

Fortney House, Race Track City

“Why,” Bob Sanderlin asked Brandon, “is a serene highness ‘serene’?”

Hayley rolled her eyes and waited for the punch line.

Grinning, Brandon said, “I don’t know, Uncle Bob. Why is a serene highness serene?”

“’Cause they ain’t got nothing to do.”

Brandon snickered. Ron shook his head in amusement and Gayleen Sanderlin gave her uncle by marriage a look. And Mom, the traitor, hid her smile behind a napkin.

Hayley groaned and, though it didn’t sound it, the groan was complicated by the fact that it was starting to look like she wasn’t going to be a serene highness after all. Just a highness. What Bob said was true. A serene highness didn’t rule a principality. It was a court title, and most of the Barbies were going to be serene highness. But the way it was shaking out, Race Track City was going to become a postage-stamp-size principality, and one with Imperial Immediacy, meaning that the ruling prince-or in this case-princess, would have a vote in the imperial diet.

Since she was going to be the ruling princess, and she wasn’t at all sure how her mom and dad and the Sanderlins were going to take the news-much less the citizens of Race Track City-serene was probably not the right word to describe her mood. “About that. . you remember how the Barbies bought up our debt and traded it for a twenty percent share in SFIC?”

“Yes?” Gayleen said.

“What’s wrong, Hayley?” Dana Fortney asked.

“Well, they didn’t really want part ownership in Race Track City, and the emperor wants our status regularized. I tried for burgrave, but Judy’s gone all political on us and wouldn’t hear of it. So, for a whole bunch of barbies switched from my account in the reich bank to the accounts of other girls and the emperor. . well. . you see. .” Then in a rush she blurted out, “Race Track City is going to be a principality and I am going to be the ruling princess. Or at least the reigning princess. We can work up a constitution so that the rights of the people here are protected, freedom of the press, freedom of assembly, the right to bear arms, the whole works.”

There was silence for a bit and they could hear the people out on the street. It was a busy street.

Then Ron Sanderlin asked, “Isn’t Race Track City a little small to be a principality?”

“Yes. According to Amadeus’s dad, it’s going to be the smallest principality in Austria-Hungary.”

Suddenly Gayleen Sanderlin was laughing. Everyone looked at her and she said “Downtown Dallas,” then went back to laughing.

Hayley was totally confused. She knew that Dallas was a city back up-time. She was even pretty sure it was in Texas and she knew it had had a really good football team, but that was about it.

“Gayleen,” Ron Sanderlin said, “if you don’t tell us what’s so funny. .” Mr. Sanderlin stuttered to a stop, apparently unable to come up with an adequate threat.

“It’s an old joke,” Gayleen said. “It seems that these three Texas ranchers were taking a jet back to Texas from somewhere. Well, being Texans, they were bragging about their spreads. ‘I own the Circle W, fifteen thousand acres up near Brownsville.’

“‘That’s a right spread,’ says the second rancher. ‘Myself, I own the Bar X, thirty thousand acres up in the Panhandle.’” Hayley was surprised at how well Gayleen Sanderlin was doing the accents, but she was pretty much totally lost. Gayleen continued.

“‘That’s a fine spread, pardner. Fine indeed.’ Then he turned to the third man and asked, ‘What about you, pardner? How big is your spread?’

“‘It’s only a touch over ten acres,’ the third Texan said.

“The other two began to wonder if the fellow had snuck into first class, but they were friendly and didn’t want the man to feel bad, so the first rancher said, ‘Well, a small place can be right nice. What do you call your spread?’ The third rancher smiled a slow Texas smile and said, ‘Downtown Dallas.’”

All the adults cracked up but Hayley looked at Brandon who shrugged his incomprehension.

As the adults settled down, Gayleen continued. “I sometimes think in strange ways, so I always wondered how the richest rancher on the plane had ended up owning downtown Dallas. I guess now we know.” She looked over at Hayley, and seeing the confusion said, “You need to have a talk with Herr Doctor Faust about what he’s teaching your kids, Dana. Hayley, Dallas was the biggest city in Texas. . at least, I think it was. In any case, downtown Dallas was probably the most expensive real estate in Texas. Race Track City is actually bigger than Vienna, and we’re building it using up-time tech from the outset. Most of the buildings don’t have electricity, but all the ones that have been built since we got here are electric ready, plumbing ready, and natural gas ready. And even the ones that were already here, like our house and your place, have been retrofitted to handle them once we get them. So it’s a safe bet that this place is going to be really valuable in the next few years, and by the time your heir inherits the title, he or she is going to be like the owner of downtown Dallas.”

“That’s, in essence, what Susan told Amadeus’ dad while they were working out how to arrange things. You guys will have to agree, but let me tell you what Count Peter von Eisenberg suggested. First, Ferdinand III will be making you and Ron, as well as Mom and Dad, counts. And your place, and Mom and Dad’s, will be tax exempt from local taxes. After that, it’s your choice whether to take a buyout of the Sanderlin-Fortney Investment Company or to maintain your ownership in it. Considering what you just said, keep your share. The income will be considerable over the years. Brandon will inherit Mom and Dad’s countship, and Bob is going to be getting an imperial knighthood, which will also make his place tax exempt. Ferdinand is keeping the race track itself, and the stands and the shops. I, or rather the SFIC, keep the water park, and all the land extending southeast at right angles from the end of the canal to where it connects up to the river. That gives us a bit over one and a half square miles. Then there are your places in Simmering, and if the residents of Simmering agree, the whole village of Simmering and its environs. But they have to agree.”

“They will,” Dana said. “You know perfectly well that the villagers in Simmering have been calling us all von Up-time since a week after your gang arrived. They will love it.” Then Dana stopped and got a pensive look on her face. She reached over to the table and picked up a little silver bell and rang it.

Annemarie must have been waiting by the door considering how fast she arrived. “Annie, would you call Jack Pfeifer in? I think he’s going to go down in history.”

The maid blinked, then rushed from the room.

“What’s up, Mom?” Hayley asked.

“Well, the principality is going to need a constitution. Who else are we going to get to write it?”

* * *

It didn’t take long for the word to get around. It was barely evening before a delegation from Simmering arrived, requesting to be included in the new principality. Jack Pfeifer, not one to miss an opportunity, snagged the brewmaster of the Simmering brewery to be the Simmering representative to the constitutional convention. They based their constitution on two documents, the New U.S. Constitution with the modifications involved in changing it to a state in the USE, and the Magdeburg Charter, on which the status of imperial cities was based. Jack wanted to give Hayley a major role in the government of the new principality, but Hayley was having none of it. It all sounded like a lot of work, and she had other things to do with her time, she told them, thinking about Amadeus.

Liechtenstein House, Vienna

Gundaker von Liechtenstein didn’t react noticeably to the news that Hayley Fortney was going to be given that status he and his brothers had been working for their whole lives. That lack of rage bothered Karl. It made him nervous and troubled his thoughts. But there was a great deal going on. He had to get back to the Hofburg for the next round of meetings.

Sarah had left the negotiations to Karl, Judy, and Susan while she tried to figure out how much money to introduce to the Austro-Hungarian empire and how to do so. Karl thought she ought to use the money to buy back the patents that the empire had been selling since a few months after the Ring of Fire, but Sarah was thinking more in terms of low-interest loans to new businesses.

Karl said goodbye to his uncles and headed back to the palace.

* * *

“It does make sense,” Maximilian von Liechtenstein told his younger brother.

“No doubt it does,” Gundaker said. “Just one more perfectly logical betrayal of our family by the crown. We will be good little courtiers and kowtow to the daughter of a mechanic. I need some air. If you will excuse me, Maximilian.” Gundaker rose and bowed stiffly to his brother and left.

Maximilian watched his brother go with the same itch of suspicion that, had he known it, his nephew had had. But his reasons for not paying attention to that itch were different. It wasn’t that he didn’t have time. No. Maximilian simply didn’t want to know. Truth be told, he wasn’t a lot happier about the situation than Gundaker was.