Chapter 5
And you are…?
The tall soldier looked pissed. Really pissed. The upside, Mary figured, was there was no weapon in his hands. He had holstered the giant wheel lock pistol. The downside, she was lying on her back, and pinned to the ground by a group of men who had chased her into the woods. The tall soldier put his hands on his hips, and sighed. “Well.” He sighed again. Then he looked at the other men. Then back to Mary. “Scheisse.” He crossed his arms, still standing over her. The rest of the men all were looking at him. “Your name?”
“Mary. Mary Russo.” Now everyone was looking at the tall soldier with wide eyes. One of the younger men, in the fancy armor, bent down and peered at her. The tall soldier barked, “Let her go. Help her up.” He turned and walked away, cursing under his breath. A couple of men helped Mary to her feet. It was painful. Her right hand was sore, her weapon was missing, her ribs ached, but nothing seemed to be broken, or seriously injured. There was a moment of awkward silence.
Mary stood there. The more she stood there, the angrier she got. She was sore, frightened, half deaf in one ear from the pistol shots, still out of breath, and pissed off. She could feel the blood rushing in her ears. Mary really wanted to punch someone, or scream, or both. She forced herself to unclench her fists and planted herself next to a tree, as the group of men stood around her looking surprised and anxious. She was radiating anger, and they physically backed away, like she was the center of a fire that glowed too brightly. One of the younger men, in nice armor, in fact, the very man that tackled her, approached. Mary glared at him as he came up to her. She judged him to be clueless.
“I am Count Johann Franz Fugger, Fräulein Russo.”
Mary had had enough. Her damn of emotion broke. “I don’t care if you’re the king of France, you little prick. You tried to kill me!”
She could see this Count Johann stiffen. “We were trying very hard not to kill you!”
“Didn’t look that way to me.”
Clearly the down-timer count wasn’t used to getting talked to in this fashion. “I assure you that if we had wanted to kill you, it would have taken us much less time to do so. You should be grateful—”
“I should be grateful!? You are too kind.” Mary hoped the sarcasm would translate. From the look on Count Johann’s face, it did.
Johann swallowed and then continued. it looked like he was trying to be reasonable, but Mary really wasn’t in a reasonable mood. “Perhaps if you would dress, not so much like some barbarian male, and more like a woman, then you wouldn’t be pursued across the mountainside? If you dress like a man, then you can be expected to be treated like one.”
Mary stood tall, even though it hurt a little. “Well, maybe, if people around here spoke some sort of a dialect I could understand, then you wouldn’t be chasing me through the trees!”
Johann’s eyes narrowed. “Then perhaps your language skills should be better.”
“My language is fine. You’re just lucky I’m not a better shot.”
Johann stood taller. “You may not speak to me in such a manner. You should show more deference, be more polite. I am a count of Kirchberg and a senior member of the family.”
Mary took a step towards him, and they were eye to eye. “If you want people to be polite, don’t try and kill them!”
Johann didn’t back down, and it looked like he was starting to get mad. Which made Mary quite happy. “I told you, we-we were not trying to kill you, we merely wanted to question you—”
“Well, it sure didn’t look that way to me!” she shouted. Things were going downhill, but she was starting to feel a little better.
Finally the rest of the group began to react, and the other guy in the fancy armor stepped between them with the fierce soldier standing at his shoulder. “Perhaps we should all get down off of the mountain before nightfall? Right Johann? We can sort this out from the comfort of the castle.” The other man smiled and nodded, making hand motions like he was trying to calm a horse, hoping for rational thought with raised eyebrows. “Everyone will be anxious for us. Nobody was expecting the airplane today; it wasn’t supposed to come for another two weeks. The count is at Innsbruck meeting with my father and his other brothers. We should get back.”
Johann looked at the other man, who Mary assumed was a brother or cousin. Same stocky build, dark hair, both had the same shape of eyes, with Johann somewhat better looking than the other one. Johann looked peeved to be interrupted, but Mary saw him glance quickly to the tall soldier, who nodded once. “Very well.” Johann sniffed. “Friedrich, give the orders, let’s get back home.”
The tall soldier, who was apparently named Friedrich, barked out several orders to the other men, and they all began to make their way back to the main trail, where the horses were tethered. One of the servants, at least Mary assumed that’s who they were, held a horse for her, and she mounted. Her bag and backpack appeared, carried by one of the other servants. Seeing her baggage, she realized she didn’t have her .32. It got lost in all the excitement. In a panic, she checked her holster at her side. “Hey! Where’s my weapon? Who picked it up?”
Friedrich turned in his saddle to peer at her, and held up the little automatic with his fingertips as if it were a tiny fish, and was waving it around. “I will keep this for the time being. We don’t want any more accidents on the way down the mountain, now do we?”
“But—”
“This is not open for discussion. You nearly shot Johann today; I do not want anyone injured by some irresponsible female who looks like a boy, tramps through the woods like a drunken cow, and fortunately can’t shoot.”
The men chuckled to themselves, and Mary felt herself blushing in anger. But in truth she had come “this close” to shooting someone. She wondered if there would be criminal charges, or if there were any legal ramifications. Shit. She clamped her mouth shut, figuring this was one of those times where it might be better to listen than to talk. Before she got in any more trouble. Johann rode his horse next to her on the trail, looking at her with contempt. She glared back. A glare wasn’t an admission of guilt, she figured. The rest of the ride was made in silence.
It was fully dark when they finally reached the castle. Mary could see a few windows illuminated through the trees as they approached, candlelight faintly glowing through the branches of the pine trees that surrounded the castle. In the darkness it was difficult to get her bearings, but the place still looked big. They came in the back way, into some stables outside the main castle building. Stablehands took the horses, and the men dismounted and began handing off their armor to other servants. Mary was ignored by the servants, and dismounted herself, away from the group. Grooms appeared and took her horse. It was like she was invisible. She looked around, and found nobody willing to make eye contact or stand with her. Eventually she observed the source of the tension, and her isolation in the stable.
A woman stood in the doorway. Mary always had trouble telling how old down-time women were. She always guessed them older than they turned out to be. But this woman looked to be in her early twenties, maybe a little older than Mary. But she looked angry, and she was staring at Mary, hands on her hips. The glare was enough to chase everyone away. The woman was quite beautiful, and commanded the clean brick stable with a glowering presence. The servants around her were all cautious and highly deferential. The woman tossed her long dark hair over her shoulder.
Another group of servants appeared, headed up by a tall, gangly, and really ugly man. He had a lumpy nose, oversized features, and knobby elbows that flapped out like a duck. That man immediately bowed to the woman who was staring at Mary. He bowed and flapped his elbows in supplication, absorbing the ire of the beautiful woman, which was now divided between Mary and him.
As Mary watched, Friedrich, the scary blue-eyed soldier, briefed the ugly servant and the woman. Even the soldier was somewhat deferential to the woman, but far less than the ugly flapping servant. The woman gave an order, and both Friedrich and the servant straightened in surprise. The soldier protested, and the woman started to berate him. There was an animated discussion that she couldn’t hear, and it looked as if the beautiful woman won the argument, hands down. She looked as if she were close to a major tantrum. The discussion ended entirely on the beautiful woman’s terms, despite protests from the soldier, Friedrich. The men bowed their heads in agreement. She then turned and marched away. Mary watched as the servant bowed to her back, elbows flapping only once. Friedrich turned to Mary and made eye contact briefly, nodded his head, and then turned away, following the woman.
Clearly they were not prepared for her to be here. The soldiers had said the count was away. This whole thing was definitely screwed up. She hoped there would be some supper, as she hadn’t eaten since breakfast.
The ugly male servant finally came over to her, and he stared at her, looking her up and down. A long, lingering, judgmental, and extremely unfriendly look. The way this guy looked at her, it made her feel very self-conscious, very uncomfortable. She did the only thing she could do, and that was look straight back at him, and judge him. Mary found her “bite me” face and presented it to him. Take that, asshole. She could still channel a pissed off teenager when necessary, and right now it wasn’t much of a reach.
The servant, who Mary assumed was in charge of something, had that haughty expectation of absolute obedience by his underlings. He came to her as she stood in the corner of the stable, in semi-darkness from the few lanterns. He drew up before her, with several female underlings in tow, and looked down his lumpy outsized nose. “My name is Jacob Maximilian Hofer. I’m in charge of this residence. And you. You are this up-timer woman…” and as he said the word “woman” in his peculiar Tyrolean accent, he turned to the group of servants behind him and laughed a little. “…this woman who has come to us from Grantville. The future.” The way he said the word “future,” made it sound like a lie. “We were not prepared for your arrival, you know?” His eyebrows were accusatory and expectant, informing her, in a none too subtle manner, that her apology was expected and awaited.
Mary’s first impulse was not to apologize to this creep. “Looks like this whole place is pretty well disorganized, then, isn’t it Jacob?”
The look on his face went very briefly to anger, and then back to officiousness. He smiled. Good teeth for a down-timer, but very bad breath. Mary noticed the young female servant behind Hofer backing up a half step, shrinking away from an anticipated explosion of temper. Hofer kept his composure. He nodded and turned to one of the girls standing behind him. “Take this person to the lower-level guest room, where this person can rest from their journey.” Hofer turned back to Mary. “I am sure this will suit you perfectly, Mary. That is your name, isn’t it? Mary? Not Martin? Or Friedrich?”
Mary gritted her teeth. Then smiled and shook her head. “Nope. Mary.”
“Very well. Your things will be sent to you. Show her to her room on the lower level.”
The servant, a young girl, looked at Hofer questioningly. “On… on the lower level, sir?”
“Were you listening to me? I said the lower-level guest room!”
The girl cowered. “Yes, Master Hofer.” She turned to Mary. “Please follow me.” They left the stables, and Mary followed. The girl led the way, and they were followed by two male servants behind. She went through a set of small doors that led into a hallway, and then down a set of narrow stone stairs. It instantly felt colder and damp. The stone hallway was clean, and only illuminated by the candle the servant was carrying. They came to a rough wooden door, which was opened by one of the male servants. The girl stepped to the side, and gestured for Mary to enter. As Mary went through the doorway, the girl refused eye contact, keeping her eyes firmly to the ground. Mary walked slowly into the dark room, turned to look for the servants behind her, and was greeted with the door closing firmly in her face. The room was pitch dark except for the candlelight that came through the barred opening in the door. She heard the bolt thrown on the door, and saw the candle retreat down the hallway.
“Excuse me? Can I have a candle please?” The hallway turned darker as the candle retreated, until she was left in total darkness. “Hey! Candle?” She heard the door close at the end of the hall. Mary felt in her pockets for her lighter, another gift from her father when she shipped out to the army. The old Zippo was a gift to her that was far more practical than the .32 ever was, and she never went anywhere without it. One thing about down-time, it was always dark. She flicked the lighter open, struck it, and held the flame in front of her. The room was little more than six feet square, with a wooden pallet for a bed, a bucket, and some spider webs. She tried the door and found it bolted from the outside.
Incredulous, she looked around the cell again. She called it a cell because that’s what it was, a damn holding cell. She replayed the afternoon’s events. She was exhausted. She was angry, more than she had been in a long time. She felt pangs of loneliness. And then, fear. Nobody knew she was here. Nobody even knew that she had arrived safely. Was she a prisoner? Why? She got up and kicked the door. “Hey! I’ve got a damn contract here!”
The hallway was dark and empty, no candles left burning. Despite the castle being full of people, she could hear nothing down here. She assumed they could not hear her either. And who the hell was that woman in the stables?
Everything was so foreign. She knew the language was different, knew she would be facing some sort of a language barrier, especially with the locals. She knew that from the briefings, as hasty as they had been, but she was now faced with internalizing the reality.
Briefings were one thing. The reality was just that. The reality. And the reality? She had nobody here. No other up-timers, no other modern thinking people, no command structure, nothing. She had maybe three weeks of so-called training to prepare her, and that was mostly on how to encode letters. There was nothing to prepare her for this kind of shit. She was utterly alone. She might have well as gone to Mars as Tyrol. She tried to understand why they locked her up. Why was she put here? Why was that woman so angry? Well, she did try and shoot that arrogant young count, but that had been self-defense. Probably. Down-time justice wasn’t known for its impartiality, particularly when it came to people with a suffix in front of their name. Like “Count” Johann-Pissy-Pants. And where was the guy in charge? Georg Fugger? Did she overhear that he was in Innsbruck? Is that why she was locked up? Was she going to be some sort of hostage?
Mary paced the small cell. And paced some more. The lighter was growing too hot to hold, so she extinguished it out to let it cool. There was absolutely no light at all. Tomb like, was the thought that came to her mind. Up to that point she had been, she thought, reasonably calm. Rational. But the darkness allowed panic to creep into her thoughts. She fought it. Found herself breathing rapidly, and went to light the lighter again. It burned her fingers, it was still so hot. She pulled her fingers back, popped them in her mouth, and started to cry.