The Viennese Waltz(155)

Leo didn’t call the guards. He listened. Relations with his family had been going downhill since Judy Wendell had publicly humiliated him. All of them had sided with the up-timers against their own blood.

“There is a bomb in the basement of the Liechtenstein Tower. A room filled with gunpowder.”

“If I am not there, suspicion would fall on me. Who arranged the room? The Spanish faction couldn’t have. Anything they tried to put in the tower would be scrutinized.”

“Not all the Liechtensteins are corrupted by the up-timers.”

That meant either Gundaker or Maximilian. Probably Gundaker. Maximilian was a good general and loyal, but pragmatic. Leo looked over at the clock. It was what the up-timers called a grandfather clock. It used a new sort of escapement and was more accurate. Currently, the hour was twenty-seven minutes past noon. He had time. Not much, but time. “Tell me about it, Father Lamormaini.”

Then he listened as Father Lamormaini laid it all out. All the way back to Ferdinand III forcing Ferdinand II to revoke the Edict of Restitution. Plus a bunch of nonsense about the number of the beast and up-time movies.

Through it all, Leo listened and weighed risk and advantage, while images of his brothers and sisters, his father and mother, and stepmother ran through his head. Cecilia Renata, who in that other timeline would go to a horror of a marriage in Poland. No wonder she was in favor of the Ring of Fire. Images of Ferdinand in that car of his, of the few times that Leo had been allowed to drive the thing. Images of Judy Wendell as she had come off the plane.

His decision was a foregone conclusion, of course. This priest was insane to think that Leo would betray his own brother—his entire family, in fact. Yet, oddly enough, it was the thought of Judy Wendell being slain that made the decision come immediately. As resentful as he still was at her humiliation of him, Leo did not want her dead. The thought of the girl being murdered, in fact, was what was finally enabled him to admit that his own behavior had been at fault.

Leo looked at the clock again. It was almost one. He pulled the cord that would call Marco.

The door opened and a guard entered. Leo rose and pointed at Father Lamormaini. “He is to be placed under close arrest and held for my brother’s pleasure.” He looked back at Lamormaini. “The brother you would murder in the name of God.”

He left to get his horse. Hurrying.

Rotenturmstraße, Vienna

They came out of nowhere. Marco, Archduke Leopold, and four of his guardsmen were riding down the street and what must have been a dozen men on horseback came out of Lugeck Street. Someone shouted, “At them,” and they charged. Marco managed to draw and fire, but didn’t hit anyone. He had a six-shooter on order, but it hadn’t arrived yet, so he had three single shot pistols left and that was it. It didn’t matter, though. There wasn’t enough time to even draw the next one. He pulled his sword.

“Ride, Your Grace!” Marco shouted. “Ride for your life!”

He never saw the shot that hit Leopold in the side. He was too busy fighting for his life and trying to buy Leopold the time he needed to get away.

He failed in the first, but succeeded in the second.

* * *

Leo felt the blow and then the sharp agony. He stayed in the saddle and rounded a corner, then he was riding for his life, every hoofbeat an agony as a broken rib stabbed him with every jounce. It made it really hard to concentrate on where he was going.

Outside Liechtenstein Tower

Amadeus was stationed in front of the tower. There were several late arrivals, some of them of high station, so a noble was needed to direct them and Amadeus had gotten the job. A horse came galloping around the corner and several guards rode out to halt the rider, then backed away and let him pass.

Leopold actually rode up the steps to the entrance and almost fell off the horse into Amadeus’ arms.

“Your Grace, are you drunk?” Amadeus hissed at the archduke. Then he felt the wetness, and looked at his hand. It was bloody.

“Have to get to the basement.”

“What? We have to get you a doctor.”

“No. No time!” Leo slurred.

“You need a doctor.”

“Now, God curse you. That’s an order!”

Amadeus knew he should get a doctor, but this was the archduke. He turned to the guards. “You, go find us a doctor. A barber-surgeon, mind, not one of those philosophers from the university. The rest of you, watch the door.”

He led Leopold to the stairs down to the basement. There was a guard at the staircase but Leo bulled through him, stopping only to get a couple of lanterns.

At the bottom of the stairs was an office. It was empty. There would be no deliveries during the wedding.