by Alma Boykin
“István! Aunt Claudia has come to visit. Isn’t this a wonderful surprise?”
Well, István mused later that summer, he was not entirely certain about the wonderful part, but it had certainly been a surprise. And he still wanted to track down Claudia’s offspring, and the so-called House to which they belonged, and do things that would have given his priest a reason to order him to walk to Jerusalem and back, twice, as penance.
But the plight of one True-dragon expelled from her House for the sake of being a True-dragon paled in comparison to the other problems facing the empire, so István and Barbara had done the only thing they could do. Aunt Claudia now lived at Nagymatra, keeping Lady Marie busy and trying to be useful. It was nice to have a Healer in residence when colic, teething, and a case of diaper rash so bad it left István staring in horror, arrived. “I had no idea babies could do that,” he admitted. If they’d had that diaper on the front lines, they could have driven the Russians back to the Urals. As it was, one of the hunters with no sense of smell had taken it out and buried it far, far away, cloth rationing be damned.
«They do, my lord, just not very often, thank heavens and St. Ann,» Claudia assured him. She rocked Erzsébet’s cradle with one hind foot while making a note in a book with her forefoot. Rose and Magda, the other nurses, were out with Barbara and Lady Marie and Imre, taking in the late summer air. The weather had turned damp and today was the first sunny afternoon in what felt like months. «I am given to understand that you will be removing to Kassa soon?»
“Yes, and I wanted to speak with you about that.” István and Barbara had talked about the move for several weeks without reaching a good solution to their quandary. “I will be honest, Aunt Claudia. The townhouse is designed for humans and HalfDragons, with a number of small rooms on three levels, plus the cellar. And the staff there are not familiar with True-dragons. I made inquiries and found a dowager house on the edge of the city, but it is not in a nice area.” It sat in the middle of an industrial park that had once been a country house’s grounds, serving as an office for the clerks at several of the factories surrounding the structure. She’d be miserable.
«Is Nagymatra kept open all year, my lord?»
“Yes, it is. Arrangements could be made for you to stay, but I fear there is a paucity of social events. And, God willing, limited call for a true Healer.”
Claudia sighed. «My lord, I will speak plainly. I have not been to a social event outside the House, and the house, since before the war began. The people of the Alföld do not care for my kind, as I have been informed on multiple occasions. There are exceptions, of course, and only a few do more than glare, but the Houses of the Great Plain are changing, my lord, and not for the better.»
“You are welcome to stay in the mountains, Aunt Claudia,” István assured her. That was, as long as the food held out. In fact, he realized, this might be the perfect time to ask her for her advice. “Ah, I do have need of your counsel. It concerns Lady Marie.”
«Ah yes.» Claudia continued rocking the cradle, glancing in to see if the quiet whuffle and sound meant that Erzsébet needed something. Apparently she did not. «Lady Marie.»
“Yes. Given the ongoing shortages, and the whispers about the state of some of the crops still in the fields, I have decided that holding a naming gathering and harvest celebration for the other Houses and families might—” He stopped, searching for the proper words. “Might be taken as something other than a simple attempt to share our happiness.”
«Ah.»
“Yes, and I am concerned about Lady Marie’s reaction to the decision.”
The True-dragon’s tongue flicked out, her ears twitched, and her whiskers floated up, then back down, as she considered the matter. «My lord, I am not certain there is a good way to break the news. What says your House?»
“The recommendation came from them.” And my inquiries with a few other families— apparently not subtle enough—brought the same response, though more heated. Unlike the majority of the noble and gentry families, the Houses could and would set aside the prerogatives and traditions of rank and station if the need were dire enough. It seemed that the Houses within the empire and Germany thought the situation did, indeed, warrant waiving some of the usual customs. István felt as if he were dancing on a high wire, because what the Houses would overlook the other noble families would not. And that was without his mother’s insistence that the war changed nothing, notwithstanding the food rationing, travel restrictions, and censorship.
Aunt Claudia turned one forefoot palm up. «It is my opinion as Healer as well as observer that Barbara, Imre, and Erzsébet are not strong enough for a major social gathering. Hunger drains Lady Barbara as much as nursing does, even with the extra food allowance and what the House can provide. I recommend a polite notice with regrets and introducing the young lady to society later, perhaps as part of a victory celebration.»
“And Lady Marie?”
«Put her in charge of creating and sending those notices and, if she protests, invoke the House, my lord. Her training is ingrained enough that she will obey the House even when her son is not worth listening to.»
István ducked a little at the reminder. “An excellent point, Aunt Claudia. Thank you.” He gave her a small salute and eased out of the nursery, walking with great care to avoid waking his daughter.
After mulling over matters, and watching the rains return, István decided to wait until after the family moved to Kassa before telling his mother what had been decided. The chaos of packing, loading the wagons to take to the train station, making certain that everything got loaded and then unloaded and carted to the town house, kept the ladies occupied for a week and a bit.
“My lord husband, the house appears to have shrunk over the summer, even with fewer staff,” Barbara teased. He also heard the plaint in her voice. They’d remade one of the servants’ rooms into a nursery, given Lady Marie the room that had been the nursery before, and yet it still felt cramped. After much thought, and with great reluctance, they’d also released Rose, the junior nurse. Thanks be, she’d found a new position with Prince Wetzel’s family, on a farm that had more food as well as gentry children. But that left Lady Barbara and Magda to care for the two little ones. Lady Marie did not approve.
He smiled and took her hand, caressing it. He wanted to caress more, but didn’t dare, not yet. I won’t have you over-bearing, my lady. “I suspect the warm rains made it shrink, my lady.”
“Like that blanket?”
“Exactly like.” They both shook their heads. Fortunately, the blanket, now well felted, made an excellent winter pad for Imre’s crib. As dear as good cloth had become, they could not afford to waste any. Much like food. István sighed.
Lady Marie swept into the family parlor, glanced around, and took the seat closest to the fire, where Barbara normally sat. “I am most displeased with the state of preparations for the harvest celebration and Erzsébet’s introduction to society,” she announced.
The couple exchanged looks and István felt a tentative pressure on his shields. He thinned them. «Have you told her?»
«I suspect I am about to.»
Barbara squeezed his hand a little and withdrew from his mind before asking, “In what way, Lady Marie?”
“There are no preparations.” She glared at István. “No lists of invitations sent or confirmed, no menus, no musicians hired, no date set, nothing has been done and harvest is nigh.” She gave him another stern look, adding, “The staff is of no help.”
Before answering, István counted to ten. He also reached for the House, imagining his authority as Head resting on his shoulders, like his uniform’s leopard skin cape. “After consulting with the other Houses, I decided that we will not hold a naming celebration or harvest gathering. None of the other Houses have hosted major gatherings since Christmas of 1914, and for us to hold one would be most inappropriate. Because of this, I need—”
His mother’s perfectly curved eyebrows shot up almost t
o the edge of her black lace headscarf. Marie raised one hand and grasped her pearl necklace. “What do you mean not having a naming celebration? We are Eszterházys! Of course we will have a naming celebration. How else are we to introduce your daughter to society? What will people think? How will I be able to hold my head up in society, during the winter season at court in Budapest or,” her voice dropped as her eyes widened with horror. “In Vienna?”
“We are not holding a naming celebration, Mater. I need you to write out the announcements to all the people whom you think should know.”
“Barbara, talk sense into him. This will be a blot on the family; people will think we are no better than middle class. Lower than that—even bankers and tradesmen hold some sort of naming celebration.” Marie drew a fan out of one skirt pocket, snapped it open, and fanned hard enough to make the fire behind her dance, or so it seemed to István.
“Lady Marie, I agree with István. The war—”
“War this and war that. Is there fighting in the streets? No? Then you will do your duty to the House and our peers and honor your daughter and the Eszterházy name by celebrating her birth as it should have been when she was christened.” Marie’s tone left no doubt but that she considered her words to be the final ones.
I’m sorry, Mater. István pulled on the House’s strength, letting his eyes shift. “No. Lady Marie, there will be no celebration. You will draw up a list of those who would have been invited so we can send them cards, but nothing more.” He pushed her, leaning against her with the authority the House granted him.
She paled, the fan stopped, and her eyes went wide. “But,” tears made her eyes shimmer. “But how will the other Houses know that Erzsébet is a daughter of the House if you do not acknowledge her?” Through the House, István felt his mother’s real fear and confusion, and her worry for the baby.
Ah, Lord and blessed Lady, what has happened to the mother I grew up with? “Mater, the Houses know and understand. It is from them that I learned the seriousness of the problems that hosting a large party might cause. Cards, if done properly, will be enough.” He released some of the weight he’d been applying to her mind. “Times are different, Mater. Many things have changed because of this long war.”
Come November and the Feast of St. Martin, all István could do was stare at the never-ending rain and wonder if perhaps the Lord had changed His mind about not drowning the world a second time. No, he decided after some consideration of the swollen streams and water-logged land, the Lord would have no need of a flood. Just turning the fields too muddy to harvest, and so wet that the potatoes in Germany, Silesia, and parts of Bohemia and Poland rotted at the ends of their stems, was enough to destroy the people. The farmers no longer had to worry about the Hamsters stealing potatoes, because there were none to steal. No one, no matter how desperate, dared to eat the mush that had once been large, white tubers. And István knew that the turnips that replaced the potatoes on the ration cards couldn’t be as healthy.
Thank You for sparing Hungary and parts of Galicia, István prayed, trying to ignore the growl from his belly. The scent of simmering venison from the kitchen made his empty stomach complain. He’d already ordered Barbara to eat some of the meat, which she had done with some reluctance, saying it wasn’t fair that he didn’t get any. Well, he wasn’t feeding Erzsébet, either. He’d managed to call in sufficient favors to be permitted a heavy deer and boar hunt, so most of the House could have a share of the meat and save their ration points. He also let it be known that if Hans didn’t complain about deer, boar, and birds taken out of season, within reason, he wouldn’t ask either. The True-dragons needed more food than humans or HalfDragons, and after a year without being hunted the deer could do with a bit of thinning.
He’d certainly been thinned himself. Szombor despaired of keeping István properly dressed. He’d quit complaining about it, though, after accompanying István back to Budapest for a government meeting. The people of Kassa looked positively overfed compared to those in the streets of Budapest. Even industrial wages could not keep up with the price of food now that so much grain, as well as the potatoes, had succumbed to the rain. “And they say in the markets that Vienna is even worse, my lord,” Szombor said that evening.
“Vienna has more people.” István left it there. He couldn’t tell Szombor everything that he’d heard that morning and afternoon, even though he wanted to talk to someone about the news. So many refugees crowded Vienna’s districts that even the green space around the old walls held make-shift housing, or had until Josef Karl ordered it cleared as a fire hazard. And those who had returned to Galicia only to flee again, now refused to go back a second time unless the army guaranteed that the Russians would stay away, something the army simply could not do without lying. “General his Grace Archduke Thomas won’t tell a comforting lie, even though it might be easier if he did,” Count Zoltan Széchenyi warned the next day. The nobles and political speakers who had gathered in one of the diet’s meeting rooms nodded, although a few looked as if they disagreed with Zoltan’s pronouncement.
“Well, my lord, can you imagine the trouble if he did, and the Russians attacked again over the winter, or just as people were trying to plant in the spring?” Joszef Mecier shook his head. “We’d never get anyone to stay north of the mountains.”
The other men in the room nodded or grunted their agreement. Attila Gabor gave them a hard look. “You do realize that the Romanians burned out a goodly number of my people thanks to Archduke Thomas’s preoccupation with Italy and Russia. We wouldn’t be depending on German good will to keep the peace in Romania if Archduke Thomas paid more attention to the rest of the empire’s borders.”
“And none of us has control over what the Romanians, Russians, Italians, or Germans do,” István riposted. “I prefer not to second-guess those in charge of the army.” He didn’t outrank any of the men in the room, but he had the most military experience.
Mecier, standing between the two House Heads, made a pacifying gesture. “Food is our greater problem. Food and fuel. Hungary is now trying to feed Austria, parts of Bohemia, and,” he stopped, shaking his head. “It is easier to say who we are not trying to supply.”
“Agreed. And sharing Romania’s harvest with Germany eased only a little of the pressure.”
Gabor glowered but agreed. “If we can hold out until the winter wheat comes in, we will be doing well.”
Zoltan rolled his eyes. He drummed the tabletop with his pencil, drawing irritated glances, which was no-doubt his intention. “And how much will the army eat, assuming the Russians don’t sweep through Galicia for a third time?”
“And what does this have to do with Poland, my lords?” Mecier said. The point of the meeting was, after all, to discuss the foreign ministry’s decision to recognize an independent but friendly Poland. Poland minus what remained the Galician crownlands and Silesia, of course, István knew.
“It has to do with American shipping,” Andre Müller, another Transylvanian, sighed. “The Americans are making noises about no longer protesting the illegal British transshipment and unloading rules if Poland is not recognized ‘whole and entire.’ ”
Gabor’s shoulders tensed and he clenched a fist. “ ‘Whole and entire,’ referring to what date? Or do I want to know?”
“You probably do not,” Müller said. “The American president, Wilson, is talking about ethnic self-determination and national rights again. Apparently he thinks that every Polish-speaker should live in Poland. Meaning that Poland expands to hold all the land Poles currently live on. And Romania the same, as well as a separate Croat state.”
Blessed Lady but I don’t want to hear what Felix would say about that last bit of news. István shook his head a little at the abject stupidity. “I suspect that those Serbians who claim the Croats as brother Slavs would have something to say about that proposal.”
Müller read from his notes. “They are all for it, so long as they get to run Croatia, Bosnia-Herzegovina, Serbia, ch
unks of Bulgaria and Romania, Albania, and Montenegro. Otherwise they are opposed.” He looked up, peering over the top of his much-mended reading glasses. “Such modest ambitions.”
Snorts and rude under-the-breath comments filled the room. “Self-determination, I see,” István said. “Right.” He looked at his papers. “Let us assume the worst. The Americans stop making even token efforts to avoid the British blockade and we lose the last bits of imported food. Yes, even what we are buying from the Turks,” he said before anyone could protest. “I am looking at the absolutely worst case. How much lower can rations for the civilians go, what reserves do we have, and what can we do to improve the crop for next year?” That was not what they had been called together to discuss, but it did need to be addressed, so he took the initiative.
“Pray to the Lord to double our number of cows, sheep, and horses, so we have enough manure again, as well as animals for the plows and wagons,” Zoltan replied before István could even close his mouth. “I know the Germans say they have a magic way to make fertilizer out of thin air, but they are not sharing. We need manure and animals.”
Silence followed his words, broken only by the sound of pens and pencils on paper. To get their animals back meant the Army would have to return most of them, or, through some miracle they sprang back to life from dry bones and empty hides. Again István thanked God that the idiot who had ordered the pigs slaughtered to save grain had been countermanded and fired.
“My lords, sirs, can we shift to a four-field fallow system, like they used in the fourteen hundreds?” One of the clerks asked from her corner.
Mecier wrinkled his nose before answering. “We could if we had enough legumes, and if we had livestock to eat the fallow and manure the land. But where would we get the seed, and where find people who know how to run that system?”
Most of the men shook their heads. “Not on my land,” Széchenyi said. “We shifted to small grain rotations and large fields a generation ago. Alternating with turnips.”
