“No. Aside from everything else, were King Philip to put forward a claim, suspicion would fall on him,” Lamormaini said. “No, we need at least one surviving Austrian Habsburg. If we can’t save the son, the brother will have to do.”
“Leopold has been ordered to attend the wedding by the emperor. He won’t ignore that.”
“But he’s not happy about it. The enmity between him and the Barbies, including Sarah Wendell, has not decreased one bit with their elevation.”
“Happy or not. . You don’t plan to tell him?”
“Not unless absolutely necessary.”
Liechtenstein House, Vienna
Gundaker von Liechtenstein wasn’t happy to be interrupted. He liked the news less. “What is Lamormaini doing at the archduke’s townhouse?”
“I don’t know, Your Serene Highness, but he seemed in a great hurry.”
“Wait here,” Gundaker told the man. Another one like Farkas, but this time he had been more careful. This man didn’t know why he was watching Lamormaini. And wouldn’t until it became necessary to act. Gundakar stepped into the office of the chief butler. “Has there been any change in the schedule for today.”
“No, Your Serene Highness. Nothing that affects us.”
“What about things that don’t affect us?” Gundaker growled.
“Only that the Imperial Family has decided that Imperial Prince Ferdinand will be going to the wedding too. He will be in the daycare with the other toddlers. We were told because of-”
“Never mind.” Gundaker turned and stalked out.
Now he knew what had happened. Realizing he couldn’t save the babe, that idiot Lamormaini was going to tell the prince not to go to the wedding. And he knew of Gundaker’s involvement directly. By the time he got back to his office, Gundaker had decided that he couldn’t wait.
“I want you to kill Lamormaini,” he said. “And if he has spoken to the archduke, you will kill the archduke as well.”
“That’s the sort of thing that can leave a man running for the rest of his life.”
Gundaker went to a chest and pulled out a sack of gold coins. “There is another one of these for you when I know it’s done.”
Townhouse of the Bishop of Passau, Vienna
Archduke Leopold was going through his wardrobe. He didn’t want to go to the wedding. The wardrobe search was partly to delay the inevitable and partly to find the clothes that would show absolutely the least respect for the Barbies he could get away with.
Marco Vianetti tapped on the door and announced, “Father Lamormaini would like a word.”
Leo winced. He could almost agree with a lot of his father’s former confessor’s attitudes, but the man had become increasingly strident since the church had broken in two.
“You must not go to the wedding, Your Grace,” Father Lamormaini said. “It is an offense against God and the true church.”
“Father, I am a man compelled by duty to both my brother and my emperor. It you have a reason that my brother, the emperor of Austria Hungary will accept, I’m more than happy to hear it.”
“Ferdinand doesn’t matter.”
“That is a preposterous statement.”
“It is true!” Lamormaini insisted. “He will be but dust by two o’clock. Do not go to the wedding or you will join him.”
“What do you mean?”
There was a pause. Not long, just a few seconds but long enough for Leo to realize that it wasn’t hyperbole or priestly nonsense. That there was a plot of some sort. Long enough for the realization that if he did nothing, he might well be emperor soon.
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.
Rotenturmstra?e, 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.”