Leo felt his face stiffen up. Gundaker’s was already stone, now it turned to iron. The plays and even movies had spread rapidly—not all of them, but some. Granted, the remark was in English and up-timer English to boot, but sticks and hicks had been translated as slang expressions for villages and villains/villagers.
“It’s a translation issue,” Judy said.
Leo looked at her, wondering what she was talking about, and she continued, looking back and forth between Leo and Gundaker. “It’s one of the most difficult issues we’ve run into since the Ring of Fire brought us here. It’s not the direct meaning of words, though that has been a problem. But the indirect unconscious meanings that people attach. The implications can be quite different than we expect.”
“And what was mistranslated?” Gundaker asked.
“I have no idea, but from your expression something was.” Then she grinned like an imp and winked at Gundaker. And Leo found himself trying not to laugh.
“Sticks, perhaps?” Leo asked.
“How would you translate it?”
“Out among the villagers, probably.”
“And why would that be so very insulting?” Judy asked.
Now Leo was caught. What exactly was so insulting about being called a villager? Were they not as much children of God as the citizens of Vienna? Yet Leo knew that he did feel insulted and he knew why. He was the younger son of the last Holy Roman Emperor, and whatever the Bible might say, he was no peasant and didn’t appreciate being thought of as one.
“Perhaps you don’t see the insult because you were born in a village yourself,” Gundaker offered. “Uncultured, without the benefit of civilization.”
“In a way you’re absolutely right.” Judy grinned. “But not in the way you mean. I was never a ‘villain’ in the sense it is so often used here and now. I was always a citizen. A citizen of the United States of America. I never met a ‘villain’ till after the Ring of Fire.” Her voice put quotes around villain. “As to the uncultured part . . . Well, the truth is we have nearly four hundred years more civilization than you do. Great art, great music, great generals, engineering, medicine, mathematics, economics, all sorts of stuff. Things that are available in and near the Ring of Fire, even to an extent in Magdeburg. That part was sort of valid, I guess. But we don’t hold their lack against you.” Judy smiled again, a thoroughly condescending smile. “At least, we try not to. It would be uncivilized to do so.”
Leo had never seen Gundaker von Liechtenstein so thoroughly put in his place.
Hayley Fortney had apparently been explaining to the young ladies what it was like in the sticks. There was quite a bit of giggling going on. Leo suddenly wondered how she knew the other girls. “How is it that the daughter of one of my brother’s auto mechanics knows you and your friends, Judy?”
“Because the daughter of your brother’s auto mechanic is”—and now Judy’s voice became quite cultured, almost a parody of cultured—“Hayley Alma Fortney von Up-time. A member in good standing of the Barbie Consortium.” Then Judy’s voice returned to its normal friendly, welcoming tones. “And a friend of all of ours since before the Ring of Fire.” Then in a whisper, “She’s loaded!”
“‘Loaded’?”
“Rich.”
“If her family is,” Leo grinned and whispered back, “‘loaded!’ why is her father working as my brother’s mechanic?”
“Oh, her family’s not rich. Comfortable, even well off, okay. Quite well off, what with the family money she’s been investing for them. But Hayley is the one who’s rich. Besides, her dad likes cars.”
Which gave Leo a whole other set of things to think about. Not just “what was her father doing here,” but “what was the daughter doing here?” It was known, or at least suspected within the family, that Herr Fortney was probably a spy and he was being watched. But if the daughter was the spy, what was she spying on? Neither she nor either mechanic nor their families had made any great effort to insert themselves in the top rung of Viennese society. Instead they talked with the artisans and merchants of Vienna. Which is precisely what one should expect from someone who was keeping Ferdinand III’s race cars in working order and building steam engines. But not exactly what you would expect of “Hayley Alma Fortney von Up-time, a member in good standing of the Barbie Consortium.” Whatever that was.
CHAPTER 18
Trudi’s on the Job
June 1635
Liechtenstein House, Vienna
“Careful with that!” Trudi von Bachmerin’s voice wasn’t exactly a shout, but it was authoritative. “That is one of less than thirty bottles of up-time bottled wine that still has its original contents. It’s worth more than you’ll make in a year.” It was, in fact, a bottle of $6.95 red table wine named Frog’s Seat with a picture of an inebriated cartoon frog toppling off a lily pad. When Gabrielle Ugolini’s mother had started to open it to celebrate something two months after the Ring of Fire, Gabrielle had thrown a fit, which was not at all like her. To keep the peace, Mrs. Ugolini put the bottle away. Two years later, after the Barbies had made a name for themselves, Mrs. Ugolini found the bottle in the cupboard and asked about it. Vicky Emerson bought it at auction for twelve hundred dollars and expressed her intent to drink it. That’s when Susan Logsden had a fit. “You don’t drink an investment!” Vicky had almost drunk it on the spot just to piss Susan off, but calmer heads had prevailed. Susan conceded that it was Vicky’s and Vicky had agreed that at twelve hundred bucks a bottle she probably ought to save it for a special occasion. The bottle, still unopened, now resided in a padded teakwood case. The last offer Vicky had turned down was five thousand dollars and the wine aficionado’s firstborn son. The boy had pimples. Vicky still planned to drink it someday—in front of Susan.