The Austro-Hungarian Connection: Section Twelve

The Bohemian Border, near Cheb

    A little after noon, three and a half days later, Drugeth called a halt and ordered a rest. The last stretch before they reached Cheb was going to be very difficult, and they couldn’t afford to lose the last wagon due to someone’s fatigue. The other one had broken a wheel two days earlier, and they’d lost two hours repacking the surviving wagon with the items that were too bulky or heavy to be loaded on pack horses. By then, fortunately, they had several of those. Foreseeing the likelihood that at least one of the wagons would not survive the trek across the Fichtelgebirge, Janos had purchased pack animals at any of the small villages they’d passed through which had one they were willing to sell.

    They needed to stop, anyway, because it was time to release Noelle Stull and her companions. By now, Janos was sure that Noelle had figured out that his escape route was taking them into Bohemia. He wasn’t concerned about that, in itself, because by the time she could return to a town that had a radio with which she could alert the USE authorities, his expedition would have long since left Cheb and would probably already be re-entering the USE further south. The main thing was that he didn’t want her to realize that Austria had suborned the commander of the Cheb garrison.

    Partly that was a matter of simple straight-dealing. Honesty among thieves, perhaps. But just as the up-timers had a witty saw that “an honest cop is one who stays bribed,” it was equally true in the gray world Janos now spent more of his time in than he liked, that the man who bribes the cop is obliged not to carelessly betray him afterward.

    Mostly, though, it was cold-blooded calculation. The future was impossible to predict, and Janos still hoped he could persuade the emperor to make peace with Wallenstein. But he’d probably not be successful in his effort, and the war with Bohemia would heat up again. In that event, as unlikely as it might be given the geography—but who could say where the winds of war might blow?—it could be highly advantageous to Austria to have the commander of the Cheb garrison on its payroll. Even if the man objected to flagrant treason, he could be blackmailed into ceding the fortress with the threat of exposure.

    Janos was feeling a little guilty, actually, allowing Noelle and her group to come this far. If one of them had a good enough knowledge of geography, they might be able to deduce that Cheb was his destination. He should have set them free the day before, in retrospect. Without horses—which he certainly wouldn’t give them, even if he had any to spare—they probably still couldn’t have gotten out of the Fichtelgebirge in time to cause any damage to his project.

    But… he’d stalled, since there were so many “mights” and “probablies” involved on both sides of the equation. Looking back on it, he’d allowed himself to be influenced by a purely personal factor. He was reluctant to part company with Noelle Stull, it was as simple as that.

    As the days had passed, his interest had deepened. He’d never thought about it before, but he’d come to realize that spending several days with a woman in a forced march, under considerable tension and strain—conflicting and complex ones, too—was as good a way as any to get a measure of her.

    Which he had, at least to the extent possible in the few days they’d spent together.

    Noelle was as perceptive as his dead wife had been, when it came to navigating difficult political waters. Demonstrated, in Anna’s case, by her ability to work a compromise between the Catholic church and the many Orthodox inhabitants on their domains, which satisfied everyone well enough and kept the peace. In Noelle’s case, by the way she maintained a workable relationship between her own captured party and the defectors. There was no love lost there, and she’d refused—quite firmly—to allow her people to be used in any of the labor directly connected to the defection. They’d taken no part, for instance, in the strenuous labor needed to repack the wagons again. But, that line drawn, she’d not been foolishly obstreperous about anything else.

    So. Principles combined with flexibility where needed. A combination much rarer than you might think.

    She also knew how to maintain authority over her own charges; smoothly, easily, and without either bullying them or ceding anything important. No easy task, that, given the nature of the people involved. Not a problem with Eddie Junker, of course. Although Janos was sure that Noelle would insist that Eddie was her “partner,” as well as a close friend, the fact remained that the relationship was one of mistress and subordinate. Something which he was equally sure Junker himself understood—but was good-natured about because of the light hand of the mistress herself.

    Lannie and Keenan, on the other hand, while they had the habits and temperament of subordinates by virtue of their origins and history, had not had a previous relationship with her, other than a family one in the case of the Murphy fellow. More than once—many more times than once—Janos had seen how awkwardly a new commander handled such a situation. In contrast to Anna, who had swept into her new position as the mistress of the estates at Homonna with complete ease. Within a short time, as the Americans would put it, she had the servants in the large household—even many of the peasants nearby—“eating out of her hand.”

    Noelle had even managed to keep Denise Beasley under control, for a wonder. And had done it, not by the harsh disciplinary methods a less perceptive person would have tried—and which would have succeeded poorly, if at all—but because she had the art of persuading a young, bright and rebellious girl that she was more in the way of a trusted older sister and a confidant than a substitute mother. It had been quite deftly done, and the fact that Noelle herself would no doubt be indignant if he suggested she was being manipulative, did not change the reality. The up-timers seemed to feel that “being manipulative” was a negative trait, even an evil one, but that was just one of their many superstitions. The ability to get other people to do what needed to be done was simply a valuable skill, that’s all—especially for the wife of an important figure in a major realm.

    Finally, there was Noelle’s athleticism and quite evident good health. Anna had been less athletic than the average noblewoman, which, in and of itself, had not much bothered Janos. He was not one of those idle aristocrats who spent half their waking hours on the hunt, and wanted a wife who could ride with him. Where Janos was most likely to be riding at a full gallop was on a battlefield, where no wife could go or was wanted to go.

    Unfortunately, Anna had been sickly, not simply sedentary. Had been since she was a girl. Janos had known that when he married her, but had chosen to overlook the problem in favor of her many other virtues. Having lost one wife after a short marriage, however, he had no desire to repeat the experience. That had been anguish such as he’d never felt in his life, and never wanted to again.

    True, Noelle was not as physically attractive as Anna had been. The woman was pretty, where Anna had been a real beauty. But that did not concern Janos. First, because it was a matter of flesh, and thus trivial. Second, because it was always transient, as was the nature of fleshly things. Finally, because given time it would be irrelevant in any event. The Americans could wallow in their romanticism, as they called it, but that was another of their odd superstitions. A good marriage produced affection and physical desire as naturally and inevitably as trees grew. Love was simply the fruit, which they confused with the seed.

    There remained, of course, all the immense obstacles of a political nature. Which might indeed be too great to overcome. But he’d decided the matter was worth raising with the emperor. He’d need his permission to pursue the matter, anyway. Beyond that, Ferdinand was one of his closest friends and a man whose advice was often shrewd, sometimes uncannily so.

    “I’m telling you, Noelle, you oughta ask him out on a date. Or finagle him into asking you out, if you’re still hung up on proper gender roles on account of you’re such an ancient.”

    “Why don’t pharmacists develop the most useful drug of all?” Noelle grumbled. “The label would read: ‘Eliminates shit-eating grins. Especially effective on teenagers.’”

    Denise ignored that, of course. “Me, if I want to go out on a date with some guy—not often, but it does happen—I just tell him when I’m going to pick up with my bike.”

    “He’s an enemy, in case you’ve forgotten.”

    Denise waved her hand. “Wars come, wars go. True love remains.”

    “You are insufferable, sometimes. And shut up, will you? He’s heading our way.”

    A few minutes later, after Janos explained that they’d be parting company, Denise’s silly idea became a moot one as well.

    Which made it all the more alarming, to Noelle, that she felt such a sharp anxiety at the news. Denise, at least, had the excuse of being sixteen years old. What was hers?

    Firmly, she told herself she was simply worried about the practical aspects of the situation.

    “I think it’s outrageous, Captain Drugeth, that you are abandoning us without even a single horse.”

    He gave her that damned soulful smile that did annoying things to the primitive and ancient parts of her brainstem.

    “First, Ms. Stull, it is rather absurd to use the term ‘abandoning’ when I am simply doing what you would have done yourself several days ago had you not given me your parole. Secondly, you don’t need a horse to travel. Lannie Yost’s ankle has healed and Eddie Junker’s broken arm does not impede him from walking. Thirdly, this is hardly a wilderness or a desert which must be crossed swiftly on pain of death. I am not, I remind you, depriving you of money with which you can buy food and shelter from any of the villages in the area. I am even allowing you to keep Eddie Junker’s rifle and its ammunition, should you need to hunt for sustenance. Something for which, I can assure you, Austria’s gunmakers would curse me if they found out.”

    Noelle sneered. Tried to, anyway. “You know perfectly well it’s an antique.”

    He shrugged. “All the better, actually, from the standpoint of a down-time gunmaker using it for a model. As you know perfectly well, the USE’s now-famous SRG is patterned after an even more antiquated design.”

    Which was true, of course. So Noelle fell back to glaring silently, feeling as if she were all of fourteen years old. Drugeth’s conditions for releasing them were perfectly rational. Even somewhat generous, in fact. Her anger was just the way the underlying anxiety was working its way to the surface.

    Why didn’t the stupid pharmacists develop a drug that would anesthetize those useless brainstem parts?

    Probably because we’ve been tested over and over again by evolution, and passed with flying colors, came the unwanted reply.

    Out of the tension and confusion of the moment, like a thesis and antithesis struggling, came the synthesis.

    “Very well!” she snapped. Her eyes became slitted. “But I warn you, Captain Drugeth. You haven’t seen the last of me!”

    “I look forward to that with great anticipation.”

    And off he went.

    Denise shook her head. “Well, that’s about the weirdest way I ever heard anybody make a date, but sure enough. It’s a date.”

    “Shut. Up.”