Ring of Fire II(230)

She was attractive, too, in a way that some young Hungarian noblewomen were and a few Austrian ones. Pretty in a subdued sort of way; slender; far more athletic than most such. He wondered what she'd look like in formal court costume.



He was a little jarred when he realized the direction his thoughts were heading. Just so, a few times in the past, had he gauged a possible marital prospect. In one instance, an assessment that led to his marriage to his now-deceased wife Anna Jakusith de Orbova.



Anna had died a year and a half earlier. This was the first instance since that horrible time when he'd even thought of another woman in those terms.



The thought was preposterous on the face of it, of course.



He realized his silence was making the Barclays and O'Connor uncomfortable. They'd assume he was thinking about them; possibly, even contemplating harsh measures.



"I am pleased to hear she is settling her nerves. Please see to it, though, that she remains unarmed. Just in case."



They nodded.



"Are there any other problems I should know about?"



"Uh, no," said O'Connor. "Everybody else is fine."



Janos wasn't surprised. Barlow and Simmons had wound up attached to the group through happenstance. They were not and never had been part of the inner circles. Nor liked, for that matter.



Truth be told, the episode's outcome had been much as Janos hoped it would. The rest of the up-timers had been far easier to handle since the killings. That would improve their chances of reaching Austria safely.



Marina Barclay looked uncertain. "I guess I should tell you that Billie Jean's threatening to complain to the authorities—the Austrian authorities, I mean—once we get to Vienna. She says she'll press charges against you. Take it all the way up to the emperor, if need be."



"She will certainly have the right to do so, under Austrian law. Even the right to appeal to the emperor, although he rarely takes such appeals under consideration."



Now, all of them looked uncertain. After a few seconds, Marina's husband finally got around to asking.



"Do you, uh . . . know the emperor? Personally, I mean?"



"Oh, yes. We have been close friends since we were boys."



They stared at him, then started to turn away. Moved by a sudden impulse, Janos cleared his throat.



"Excuse me. If you would satisfy my curiosity? Noelle Stull. What is her family background?"



The three of them looked at each other. By whatever silent communication passed, Peter Barclay assumed the role of spokesman.



"Her family is, uh . . . Well. Strange. There are several families involved, actually. The Murphys and the Stulls and the Fitzpatricks."



The tale that followed was intricate; complex; even tortuous at points. More than it needed to be, really. It was clear that the up-timers assumed he would find almost all of it incomprehensible.



When they finished, he nodded. "I believe I understand the gist of it. Noelle's true father, Dennis Stull, was betrothed to her mother, Pat Fitzgerald—in their own eyes, at least. Then her family, largely for religious reasons, forced her into a marriage with Francis Murphy. By whom"—he glanced over at the five USE loyalists, readying their camp—"she gave birth to Keenan, over there. During the years that passed, meanwhile, her once-betrothed remained unmarried. Eventually, Pat—Murphy, now, not Fitzgerald, as is your American custom—abandoned her legal husband and went to live with Dennis Stull for many years. By whom she had her daughter Noelle, although the fiction was publicly maintained for over two decades that Noelle was Francis Murphy's daughter. Until it all—'blew up,' was the term you used?—because Francis Murphy was outraged that his long-estranged wife attended the funeral of her lover's mother when she had refused to attend the funeral of his father. So, in a drunken fury, he attempted to murder her at the funeral."



"Well, sort of," said Marina. "Stupid bastard shot into the funeral parlor from outside. The only solid hit he got was on the corpse in the casket. His own son Keenan was the one wrestled him down, and kept him from anything worse."



"The whole thing was a comic opera, really," added her husband, "although it wouldn't have been if Francis had been sober enough to shoot straight. As it is, the only thing they wound up charging him with was attempted murder and desecrating a corpse."



Janos stroked his mustache. "A reasonable legal decision. The latter is certainly a charming one."



The Barclays and O'Connor didn't seem to think it was the least bit charming. "That was Judge Maurice Tito. He wasn't anywhere nearly as prone to be lenient to poor Horace Bolender. Threw the whole damn book at him, the self-righteous bastard."