Wednesday, July 7, 1683
Katja
Vienna
Katja felt light for several winding blocks as she walked against the crowds. She was staying in Vienna, and her father’s violin was slung across her back. What did she need other than her city and her music? She wouldn’t be alone—Agnes, Maria, Martin, and both footmen would be with her. And Xavier would arrive shortly. He’d laugh when she told him about the violin and Countess von Bayreuth and probably tease her for leaving the carriage without thinking things through. But this wasn’t impulse. She had considered her options—and staying in Vienna was the best choice.
There was danger in staying, but rumors of impending doom had no doubt been exaggerated. Suleiman the Magnificent hadn’t been able to capture the city, so why should Mehmet IV succeed? Hope and promise grew with each star that appeared in the dark velvet sky showing between high-pitched roofs.
But after a few blocks, the violin—and its case—began to grow heavy. She carried nothing else—she’d left more clothing behind than she’d taken with her, so she’d have no trouble finding something to wear when she returned home. Her jewelry was all packed other than the necklace and earrings she currently wore, but the pearls were her favorite anyway, and if the Turks besieged the town, there would be few occasions for jewelry. She switched the position of the instrument so the strap dug into the other shoulder.
The family coach had halted so many times that they hadn’t even reached the city wall, but it would be a lengthy walk home. Regardless of the distance, there was no turning back now. She couldn’t catch the coach even if she wanted to. Staying was the correct choice, she was sure of it, but she wished she’d come to that decision sooner because getting the violin to safety was becoming a challenge. She shifted the strap again. If it got much worse, she’d take out the violin and bow and carry those home. She could send Martin or Paul or Aloys to fetch the case once she arrived.
A passing man bumped into her, jolting her into a nearby wall of stone.
“Sorry!”
“Not to worry.” She’d have a bruise, but the jostling served a useful warning. If she wanted her father’s violin to make it safely home, it had best stay in its case. She didn’t want it damaged, not when her father had so cherished the instrument. He’d ordered it from a luthier in Cremona, Italy, played it for years, and given it to Katja the week before he died. More than the furniture he’d bought or the books he’d collected, it was the violin that carried memories of her father.
The crowds began to thin as she walked past St. Stephen’s cathedral. She wasn’t even halfway home yet, but she stopped for a moment to rest and take the heavy case off her shoulder. People flocked to and from the cathedral, as was normal, especially since the emperor had called for prayers of deliverance from the Ottoman Army, even going so far as to assign the various guilds and corporations specific times during which they were to attend and pray. She’d overheard Martin and Aloys say the time would have been better spent on repairing the defenses, but that hadn’t been meant for her ears. No one in the household would say anything against the emperor or his decrees when the family could hear. Wilhelm wouldn’t allow it, not even from his only brother.
When she felt rested, Katja set off again. She made it a few more blocks before blisters pained her feet. She wasn’t used to walking so much, especially not in the shoes she currently wore. But if she removed her shoes, her petticoat would drag on the ground. Enede could replace the bottom ruffle when Urszula and the rest of them returned, but what if the skirts made her trip? It might damage the violin, and she would much prefer to damage her feet. They could repair themselves. The Amati couldn’t.
She turned onto a street and worked through the press of people. She squeezed into the spaces between groups and paused frequently to let others pass. Perhaps another route would have been better. She glanced back to see how far she’d come.
Behind her, a group of men with lanterns also moved against the flow of the crowd. They carried picks, shovels, and saws, and most wore no jackets. A work party of some sort, but given the size of the group and their bulky tools, their progress looked far less hampered than hers. If she could walk in their wake, perhaps she and the violin would make it home without damage. She held up next to the wall of a home, waiting for them to reach her.
The first of the group came even with her, and their banter seemed lighthearted despite the air of desperation hanging over the rest of the city. Her eyes lingered on one with an unbuttoned waistcoat. Even at night, there was something familiar about that tapered chin and those thick eyebrows.
She took a step away from the wall, and her eyes locked with his. He stopped right in front of her and smiled, and that smile was unmistakable. She’d seen it most days of her childhood, ever since an assistant cook had brought her small nephew to work with her because the boy’s mother had fallen ill. What had begun as a temporary arrangement for a day or two had turned into five years of friendship. Time hadn’t dimmed the teasing curve of his mouth, nor the acceptance and camaraderie that expression had always held for her.
“Toby?” She was certain the man was Tobias Vischer, but she made it a question because she hadn’t seen him since they were ten.
He took the wide-brimmed hat from his head, revealing wavy blond hair. “Fräulein von Schor, it’s a pleasure to see you.” His familiar expression matched her memory, but it was also changed, because it wasn’t made by a boy but by a man. “I would have expected the von Schors to leave with the emperor.”
“I’m staying in Vienna.” Katja’s relief to find a group walking in the same direction as her grew, mixing with pleasure that Toby recognized her even after so many years. Maybe seeing him again meant she hadn’t been foolish to leave the carriage, because everything was working out. “But I’m afraid I’ve no von in my name. Wilhelm’s ennoblement didn’t affect his sister.”
“Fräulein Schor, then. Are you unaccompanied?”
“At present.” Fifteen years ago—even ten—she would have told him everything, but she wasn’t sure how he would react to her change of heart. He might think her flighty or childish.
His smile faltered, and he gestured at the crowd. “Is that safe? The city’s gone crazy. There was a riot just Monday.”
“It’s safer now than it will be if the Turks take over.” She glanced at the pick he balanced on his shoulder. “Was that what you were working on—defenses?”
“Yes. Burgomaster Liebenberg sent us to the ravelin south of the emperor’s palace. That’s the city’s weakest point.” He seemed to notice the unkempt state of his clothing. He replaced his hat, then brushed his hand along his chest and began buttoning his waistcoat. “We’ve been working since before dawn on the retrenchments, but we’ve finished for the night. May I see you home?”
“I would like that, thank you.” She shifted the strap of the violin case, and Toby’s eyes bulged.
“Katja, is that your father’s violin? The one made by Nicola Amati?”
“It is.”
“Out here on the streets? It might get crushed. So might you, for that matter. May I carry it for you?”
“Thank you, Toby.” She handed it to him, and he took it with care, then they hurried to keep up with the last of the work crew. “Are you still Toby, or do you go by Tobias now?” He’d grown from a skinny boy into a tall, broad-shouldered man, a handsome one, if she were being honest.
“You can call me Toby, if you like.” His lips froze, then turned down. “I called you Katja, didn’t I? I apologize. Are you still called that?”
“No one has called me Katja for at least a year, but I don’t mind.”
“Xavi doesn’t call you Katja anymore?”
She bit the inside of her mouth wondering how much she should say. As a child, Toby had been kind to everyone, but he and his mother had also attended church with admirable regularity. What would he think about Xavier’s leniency toward the Protestants and his occasional criticism of the emperor? She decided to keep her answer vague. “Xavier and Wilhelm had a bit of a falling-out. I haven’t seen Xavi since last year, but he’s with Count von Starhemberg, so I expect I’ll see him again soon.”
“I’m sorry about the discord.” Toby studied her face. “Has it really been a year since you last saw him? It’s hard to imagine the two of you going a day without being together.”
“More than a year.” The confrontation between her brothers had been only a week after her father’s death, when all their grief had been fresh and raw. “I miss him.” She meant Xavier, but the same feelings applied to her father.
“Of course you do. You were always the best of friends, not just twins.”
“All three of us were, until you abandoned us.” Her words sounded sharper than she’d meant them to.
Toby’s voice was mild when he replied. “I didn’t mean to abandon you. Didn’t want to. But my mother found an apprenticeship for me, and then there wasn’t time to play anymore. I had to grow up.”
“But did you have to grow up all at once? Couldn’t you have come to visit?” She had cried every night for a month, waiting for Toby to come back, not understanding why someone as familiar as family had suddenly disappeared.
“Master Joiner Biener taught me everything he knows about woodworking, but he was very strict. I had only one afternoon off a week, and my mother needed my help then. It’s not that I didn’t miss you and Xavi, wasn’t that I didn’t wish to see you. It was just how things had to be.”
The note of apology in his voice stirred Katja’s guilt. She shouldn’t blame him for all the hurt she’d felt when he’d stopped coming around. At least she’d had her brother. What had Toby had other than hours and hours of work?
“You have my violin. Shall I carry your pick?” She took it rather than giving him a chance to tell her no. It was heavier than a violin but lighter than a case. “Joiners are a bit like carpenters, aren’t they?”
“Yes. A bit more specialized. Lots of furniture and windows and stairways.”
They turned off onto a less crowded street, leaving the work crew. A few of them called out farewells to Toby.
“How long was your apprenticeship?” Katja asked.
“Seven years. Then I spent another six as a journeyman.”
“Where did you travel?”
“East, mostly, lots of little towns, about six months in each place. And to Pressburg. Spent a year there. Then I came back, and the guild permitted me to make my masterpiece, and I’ve been a master joiner with my own shop for the last year.”
A full moon and a passing couple with a lantern and a pack mule provided enough illumination for her to study his hands. They seemed strong and capable. So different from the small hands that had splashed her with fountain water in the summer and thrown snowballs in the winter. “You’re different than I remember. All grown up. Have I changed as much as you have since we last saw each other?”
He glanced at her. “I saw you at your father’s funeral. You haven’t changed so much since then.”
“You came?”
He nodded.
“Why didn’t you talk to me?”
Toby’s stride broke for just a moment. “I almost did, but there were a lot of people there. Everyone loved your father. I don’t think anyone could hear him play and not admire him.”
“We were dearest friends when we were small. I would have been glad to see you.” Toby had spent many an afternoon with her and Xavier as they’d listened to her father play music or tell stories. He would have understood her grief far better than the other people who had thronged the funeral of the great musician.
“Things change, Katja. The Schors are a family of quality, and I’m just a craftsman.”
“That doesn’t matter to me. You’re still my friend. Or, at least, you were.” That sounded wrong. “And are again, I hope.” She adjusted the pick and put her free hand on his forearm. The muscles were harder than she’d expected, but it shouldn’t have surprised her. Toby had always thrown everything he had into their games. No doubt he did the same with his craftsmanship.
“I’ll always be at your service, Fräulein Schor.” He frowned. “Is it Fräulein still? Or do you have a husband?”
“No husband. I think Wilhelm is hesitant to arrange a match until I learn to control my tongue. It might reflect poorly on him if I said something I shouldn’t to a new husband.” That, and he wanted the match to be advantageous for the family. But the Schor family had only moderate wealth and had been prominent for only a generation or so—Wilhelm might have set his mark for her a bit too high. He’d married into an old family that had long been prosperous, but not everyone could make a match so impressive. In her more generous moments, she thought that maybe he was reluctant to marry her off because he would miss her. He’d driven his brother away and hadn’t seen him since. If he married Katja off, he might not see her again either. “And you? Have you a wife? Children?”
“No. I’ve not had my workshop long enough to support a family. But if things continue as they have, and if the Turks don’t raze the city, I might be able to support a wife soon.”
“Have you someone in mind?”
He hesitated, then looked away. “I don’t have a sweetheart, if that’s what you’re asking.”
“Well, you’re hardworking and handsome. I imagine you’ll have no trouble convincing someone to marry you when you’re ready.”
He met her eyes, and a mischievous smile played on his lips. That was an expression she remembered clearly from their youth. Back then, it had usually involved some type of conspiracy with Xavier.
Maybe she shouldn’t have called him handsome, at least not aloud, but it was true. The other part of her compliment was less certain—she hadn’t seen him at work for ages, so calling him hardworking was only an assumption. “I would like to see your joinery shop.”
Those green eyes of his scanned her face. “I’d be happy to show you, Katja. It’s not much, but it’s a start. It might have to wait though—tomorrow I’m to work on the defenses again. No doubt the day after too.”
“I’m interested in viewing the defenses as well. Will they hold? I’ve heard so many different rumors that I’m not sure what to believe.”
Toby’s stride kept its pace, but his eyes turned down to the cobblestones. “The walls will help, but they aren’t invincible. I’m glad to see you, but that’s selfish of me. You’d be better off leaving the city. Is there somewhere you can go?”
Katja’s steps faltered. Toby wanted to send her away. “Not you too.”
“I’m not the first to suggest you leave?”
She bit her lip and shook her head slightly. “Wilhelm put me in a coach with his wife, son, and nursemaid. But one of Urszula’s relatives needed a ride, and then there wasn’t room for the violin. I couldn’t leave it.”
Toby took the violin case off his shoulder and stared at it for several long seconds. Then he put it on his other shoulder. “Of course you can’t leave it behind. But surely you could find room for it somewhere.”
“Maybe with the servants. But what if it fell off the cart? Or what if we ran across someone who needed help and we had to leave the luggage in order to take them? Urszula would insist the violin go before the jewelry or the clothing. She doesn’t understand.”
Toby glanced in the direction of her home, then north. “Katja, would you trust me to keep it safe for you? You should leave while you can. The rumors about the wall being in disrepair contain more truth than the rumors about the walls being impregnable. The Turks rarely lose, especially not the second time they try for something. Come, I’ll help you find Wilhelm.” He took a few steps north before turning around to see why she hadn’t followed. “Katja?”
“I’m staying. The moment Wilhelm told me he was leaving, something inside of me wanted to resist. I went along for a while, but when I learned Xavier’s regiment was coming to the city, I knew my first instinct had been right.”
“Have you heard the refugees? The Turks and the Tatars are burning villages to the ground, massacring one half of the inhabitants and enslaving the other. They’ll do the same here if they can. You’d be safer leaving.”
Logic and Wilhelm told her to leave. But something stronger told her to stay. “Haven’t you ever known something to be right, even when it didn’t make sense?” She put a hand to her heart. “I’m supposed to stay. I can feel it. Please don’t try to send me away.”
Toby didn’t respond verbally. One foot turned east, but his eyes darted north. Finally, he met her gaze, and then he nodded.
They walked together in silence for a while. Despite the late hour and the darkness, there were still people about—a lot of them. They turned a corner, and the Schors’ tall townhome appeared in front of them. Lights shone from the windows, and a lantern burned just outside the stable. She slowed her pace, as did Toby. What would she tell everyone? The truth would have to do. She’d changed her mind and planned to stay.
“Fräulein Katharina?” Martin was the first to spot her. “What happened?”
“I’ve decided to stay.”
Martin’s face grew grim. “I had the impression that you weren’t eager to leave. But what will your brother say?”
“He may not hear about it for some time.” Wilhelm would check to see that his family was well, but he wouldn’t examine each member of the party. The emperor might keep him until everyone else was asleep, and by the time Wilhelm learned what had happened, it would be too late for him to come back for her.
Martin looked more closely at Toby. “Bless me, is that Tobias Vischer, all grown up?”
“Yes, sir.”
“I’ve not seen you in ages. Not since the three of you were children.” Martin had often welcomed them into the stables, saddled horses for them, and procured whatever odd equipment they’d wanted for their games.
Toby glanced to Katja. “I saw Fräulein Schor unaccompanied and offered to see her home.” He took the violin from his shoulder. “And to help her with this. Where shall I put it?” He stepped toward the kitchen, and Katja followed. She propped Toby’s pick near the door and led him inside.
Agnes recognized Toby at once. Much as she had all those years ago, she insisted on making him something to eat after she teased out that he’d spent the day in heavy labor and hadn’t eaten since noon.
She placed bread and ham in front of him, then turned to Katja. “But why are you back, Fräulein Katharina? If the rumors have merit, we’re in for a rough time. You’d be safer with your brother.”
“I have two brothers, Agnes. And the other one is coming to Vienna, so I don’t want to leave.”