Father Montilla moved along one wall to the back of the room and took off his back pack. From the back pack, he took a lead acid battery, ceramic but based on an up-time motorcycle battery. Then a fifteen foot roll of insulated wire, copper multistrand, tight wrapped in linen thread, made in Magdeburg. Then a small hand-powered wood drill, again made in Magdeburg, this time based on an up-time spring-powered screwdriver. Also a twenty-four-hour clock made in Halle from an up-time design. The fact that it was a twenty-four-hour clock was important because security on the actual day of the wedding was going to be tight. He could slip in the day before the wedding to do the final prep.
First, he got down on his knees and, snaking his arms around, managed to drill a small hole in a back barrel, out of sight. It shouldn’t matter, but this was important, and he didn’t want some idiot knocking things awry by accident or noticing gunpowder leaking out of the barrel. The hole was a little bigger than the blasting cap, so he wrapped the cap in a piece of cloth before shoving it into the hole.
Carefully he stripped insulation from one end of his wire and attached it to one of the leads to the Grantville-made blasting cap. He unrolled the wire and cut a length of about three feet, then carefully threaded the wire between the slats of the pallet and the bottom of the barrel, then snugged the wire tight. He stripped the other end of that wire and attached it to a stud that he had placed at two P.M. on the face of the clock.
He attached a second length of wire to the hour hand so that when the the hour hand reached two o’clock in the afternoon, the two wires would come together. He measured out that second length so that it would reach to one pole of the battery but didn’t attach it.
He measured off a third length of wire, leaving himself a fair amount of slack, and stripped the ends. He threaded this wire under the barrel and attached one end to the blasting cap’s other lead. Again he made sure the other end of the wire would reach the battery, then cinched the wire in against the slats of the pallet and the staves of the barrel.
He wiped his brow with the sleeve of his cassock. That had been hot work, and he was a scholar, not a tradesman. But he was also a man of God, doing his duty.
* * *
“You know you can still get out of this,” her dad said, and Sarah wanted to kick him. They were in the Goldberg Candy Store, just off the main entrance to Liechtenstein Tower, waiting for the final wedding rehearsal to begin. The plaza was filled with chairs and benches for the invited guests. Liechtenstein and BarbieCo guards were at each and every entrance. The generator in the basement was running and the lights were on.
In just a few minutes, assuming she didn’t kill him first, her dad was going to walk her down the aisle to meet Karl and they would practice getting married. What made the all-too-predictable offer even more irritating was that a tiny part of her wanted to take him up on it. Not because of Karl, but because of the baggage that came with him.
This would be the final lock on the cage for her. Court princess, the head of the banking system for the Austro-Hungarian empire, princess of the House Liechtenstein, countess of this, baroness of that, the wife of the head of government of territories in two countries. Sarah Wendell was about to be swallowed by Princess Sarah, and as much as she loved Karl, it scared the hell out of her.
“We’re ready,” said Countess Fortney.
* * *
Three hours later, as the guards were leaving, a priest came wandering in, ostensibly looking for a Book of Hours. When no one was looking, he slipped down the stairs into the still dark basement. He lit his lamp using a Magdeburg-made Zippo lighter, then made his way to the storeroom rented by Gundaker von Liechtenstein. He unlocked the door and slipped in. He turned up the lantern and went to work. He wound and set the clock using his Hamburg-made pocket watch. The minute hand on the clock he bent outward so that it wouldn’t bind the hour hand that was going to slowly drag the wire into contact with the stud. He checked the battery, getting a shock, and attached the leads. Then he left. It wasn’t till he was back upstairs that he realized that he still had the lock in his pocket. He considered going back down but decided against it.
CHAPTER 38
A Wedding to Remember
January 15, 1636
The Hofburg Palace, Vienna
The morning was cold and crisp, but the sun had come out and there wasn’t a cloud within a hundred miles of Vienna. They wouldn’t dare, not today. Empress Mariana looked out the window at the beautiful day and made a decision. “There will the one more royal at the wedding. We’ll bring the baby,” she pronounced.
“Ferdinand the latest?” the emperor asked. “Are you sure?”