The Viennese Waltz(43)
Fortney House, Race Track City
“We’re going to be overrun with Hofbefreiten and we get to pay most of the cost of building the canal for the privilege,” Hayley pointed out.
“What are holfbitten?” Dana wanted to know.
“People. People who have a special status. Hofbefreiten means court-freed or court-exempted. The way it works is that they pay the court for the privilege of providing stuff to the court. Anything from socks to carriages to coffeecake, and they get to sell stuff to the general public without paying the local taxes, the onera. Which can be quite onerous.”
Gayleen groaned and Dana made to whack her daughter.
Hayley ducked and continued. “He must have figured it out before you even finished talking about the effect of the canal.”
“Figured what out?” Bob Sanderlin asked, moved to rare speech by his confusion.
“That the steam ferry and the canal make Race Track City effectively part of Vienna, but not legally part of Vienna. Which gives all of Race Track City effective Hofbefreiten status without him having to officially do it, so the burghers who do have to pay onera won’t start screaming till it’s too late. Remember, they pay for the privilege of being Hofbefreiten and that’s money in Ferdinand’s pocket. I figured he’d insist on us paying for more of the canal and give us more of the property to dispose of, but he saw the potential. He can move Hofbefreiten out here to Race Track City and it will seem like a big concession to the burghers. And he can sell Hofbefreiten status to new craftsmen too. Make his tenants out here official Hofbefreiten. He’ll recover his whole share of the cost of the canal in the first year’s rents.”
“Well then, you should have done it yourself,” Ron groused. “I never claimed to be David Bartley.”
CHAPTER 12
The Nebulous Beginnings
November 1634
Liechtenstein House, Vienna
Gundaker von Liechtenstein was not overly distressed by the emperor’s interest in the cars. Quite the contrary. The more time Ferdinand III spent playing with his new toy, the less time he would spend on interfering with older, wiser heads in the managing of the government. With the Edict of Restitution revoked, a whole new round of lawsuits had been issued. Protestant churches were demanding their buildings back. Protestant nobles and burghers were demanding their property back. As often as not, those properties had changed hands again after being returned to the Catholic church. Sometimes the same day. As it happened, Gundaker von Liechtenstein owned a number of them.
“It’s vitally important that the revocation of the Edict not be interpreted to mean that those properties already returned to the church must be given back to heretics,” Gundaker told one of the family’s lawyers.
“Unfortunately, that seems to be the way Ferdinand III is leaning.”
“Then the cases need to be decided below the imperial level, and appeals to the crown need to be delayed in the courts long enough so that there is time to persuade the headstrong boy that such a policy would be an unholy and impious act.”
After the lawyer had left, Maximilian cautioned his brother. “Be careful how you refer to His Majesty, even with our own people. I’m not overly thrilled with the effect the revocation of the Edict will have on our family’s property either, but he is the emperor.”
* * *
In the cathedral of St. Stephens, Father Lamormaini was discussing the Sphere of Fire with his fellow Jesuits, and not getting very far.
“First of all, it’s not exactly six miles across,” said Father Fuhrmann. “It’s a little over six miles across, or maybe a little less depending on whose miles you’re using. I think that from Ring Wall to Ring Wall, it’s six miles, two hundred seventeen feet, six and a half inches.”
“It’s six miles within any reasonable measure,” Lamormaini insisted. “You said yourself ‘depending on whose miles you’re using.’ It might be more or less than six miles.”
“Second, it’s not a sphere. Even if there was a sphere in the moment it occurred—and not all the accounts agree on that point—it’s not one now. A half-sphere at best. That would make it six broad, six long, and only three high. Not the number of the beast. I grant it’s a clever conceit, Father, but not evidence of a message from God.”
Lamormaini stood, his face red. He had seen the truth as God had revealed it, and now Fuhrmann was splitting hairs to avoid the truth. “Father Fuhrmann . . .”
“No, Father. While His Holiness has not ruled on the matter, it would be worse than premature to attempt to preempt his decision. I will make note of your observations and send them to the Father General, but don’t expect any action till His Holiness has had a chance to consider all the ramifications of his decision.”