Márton von Debrecen’s Townhouse, Vienna
Over the next few days, several of Adorján Farkas’ men were spotted in places where they could observe the Barbies or Sarah. Those sightings led the gentlemen to have chats with the Barbies on the subject of direct action and law.
“No, Márton,” Her Serene Highness Vicky Emerson von Up-time said seriously. “Bill talked about this a lot. Not all the down-time cops liked the up-time laws protecting citizens’ rights, but a lot of them did. Mostly the ones like Bill, who had seen the results of their lack. I don’t care how noble you are, if there aren’t any laws like that on the books, it ends up bad. Mostly, people like you and me are protected by our wealth. And now rank, I guess,” she added with a grimace. “But everyday people? Before you know it, every shop owner is being shaken down.”
Márton listened politely, but he wasn’t convinced. “But I am not a police officer. I have no judicial position at all. If I were to hire some people to go have a chat with this Adorján Farkas, how would that be a violation of his rights? Twice in the past four days, I have seen members of his troop watching you. I respect your beliefs, but I will not stand idly by while what happened to Polyxena happens to you. I can’t!”
Vicky looked at him and he could see her weighing her words. “Just go ahead and say it,” he told her.
“What happened to Polyxena was perfectly legal and an excellent example of why those protections were instituted in later centuries. Maximilian had a suspicion and he was the duke, so he wasn’t required to prove it—at least not with the rigor that should have been required of him. If Bavaria had had a constitution like Race Track City’s, Polyxena would never have been executed. She would have had a lawyer and there would have been a court and rules of evidence. What you’re proposing is just the strong brutalizing the weak. Your strength, in this case, is hired—but that doesn’t change what it is.”
“What about whoever hired Farkas? Are they to be allowed . . .”
Vicky reached out and took his hands. He felt the strength in her hand and wrist that allowed her to use her pistol with such speed and accuracy. She squeezed hard. “Let me tell you something that Bill told me. He got it from Dan Frost. ‘The difference between the good guys and the bad guys isn’t who’s wearing the badge.’”
Apparently she saw his confusion, because she explained. “The difference between the good guys and the bad guys is not who has the title or the legal right. It’s not even entirely what you’re fighting for, because every despot in the history of the world has been convinced that he was on the side of right. The way you tell the good guys from the bad guys is by how well they follow their own rules.”
“If you say so.” Márton was still unconvinced.
“I know that sort of restraint is hard and, truthfully, most of the time I want to just go ahead, kick ass, and sort it out later,” Vicky said. “In fact, Bill and I argued about it all the time. After he got killed I pretty much gave up on the idea of civil rights for assholes. You want to know what changed my mind?”
“What?” Márton asked.
“Your Polyxena. You’re convinced that she was innocent. Amadeus is convinced that she was innocent. And even if she’d been guilty, execution is totally off the wall for helping someone duck out on a wedding. But what happened to her was all perfectly legal, and things like that happen all over the world, all the time. But they don’t happen in Grantville. You don’t need to worry about the cops busting in your door because someone next to the mayor or the president is pissed or wants something you own. What happened to Polyxena and what it did to you is what convinced me that we must be ruled by laws, not the whims of the powerful.”
Márton looked into those eyes glowing with conviction and wanted to believe. He even agreed that that was the sort of world there ought to be. But it wasn’t the world they lived in. So, instead of agreeing or continuing to argue, he simply lifted her hands to his lips and kissed them.
CHAPTER 35
The Secret Austrian Good Guys
December 1635
Márton von Debrecen’s Townhouse, Vienna
“Our young ladies have very noble beliefs, but they are not altogether practical,” Amadeus complained to Márton.
“Their up-time world must have been populated by saints,” Márton agreed. “Vicky gave me chapter and verse on the rights of the accused.”
“We need to talk to Jack Pfeifer, you think?”
“Do you think we can trust him not to go running to Princess Hayley? He’s her lawyer, when all is said and done.”