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The Money Franchise

Written by Kerryn Offord

Klausdorf, Pomerania, February 1635

Katharina Hagemeister stood at the edge of the open grave and stared down at the cheap coffin containing her mother. At last Mama had escaped her husband, Katharina's father. The pastor had called her death an accident, but Katharina knew better. Her father had destroyed Mama's will to live through years of abuse. She'd only hung on as long as she had to protect Katharina, but last week Father had pushed her too far. He'd made one demand too many, and Mama had walked out into the freezing night.

Her father was talking to one of his friends. She caught the man glancing her way and dipped her head. It was being "loaned" to him for a night that had finally broken Mama. Katharina trailed her father and the rest of the mourners to the tavern where the wake was to be held. She hid in a corner while she watched her father drink until he was falling down drunk. Everyone seemed to think he was drinking to bury his loss, but Katharina knew better. He was drinking heavily because someone else was paying.

Two villagers carried her father back to their home and laid him out on his unmade bed before leaving. Katharina looked down at his defenseless form. She knew her father. With Mama dead it wouldn't be long before he'd try to "loan" her out like he'd loaned Mama to his business contacts. It would be so easy to kill him while he slept. . . . But that would only put the law after her. It was best that she take what she could and ran away before he woke.

****

Katharina shivered as she watched the girls parade themselves for the men coming in from the docks. It wasn't just the cold that was making her shiver. No, she was shivering because she was scared. She'd hoped that she'd be able to find honest work in Stralsund, but there was too much competition for the few jobs a thirteen-year-old girl could do. In the week since she'd arrived in the city she'd sold nearly everything she had to buy food. Now she had only one thing left to sell . . . herself.

She noticed one very jovial looking man walk along the quay studying the girls. A couple of them walked up to him, but he shook his head. They seemed to be talking and one of them pointed in Katharina's direction. The man passed her a coin and headed toward Katharina.

He was a big man, and that scared Katharina. However, he seemed happy, and that could only be good. Surely a happy man wouldn't hurt her. The man was getting close. Katharina swallowed and stepped forward. She tried to appear confident, but she'd never tried to sell her body before.

The man placed a hand lightly under Katharina's chin and lifted her head up until their eyes met. "Virgin?" the man asked. Katharina knew this was her last chance to back out. She ran her tongue over her dry lips and nodded.

 

A warehouse, Stralsund, March 1635

 

Johannes Hagemeister stared at the heavy purse sitting on the printer's table. He glanced from it to the three men seated opposite him before hesitantly reaching for it. Just as his fingers closed on it a strong ink-stained hand landed on his. He froze and met the eyes of the man whose hand held his.

"You know what you and Hans are supposed to do?" Bartholomäus Scheele asked.

"We go to Magdeburg and buy up as many of the new USE dollar bills as we can."

"Good condition ones only," Bartholomäus said.

Johannes understood what he was being asked to do. He might not understand why, but he was being well paid. He let his hand squeeze the purse. It felt full of coin. There had to be at least a hundred thaler in there. For a moment he let himself dream about what he could do with that money, but a glance at the silent Hans drew any thought along those lines to a screaming halt. The man was obviously to accompany him purely to discourage such thinking.

"You have nobody who will miss you?" the third man asked.

Johannes shook his head. His wife had died less than a month ago and his ungrateful daughter had abandoned him a week later.

 

The Vulgar Unicorn, Stralsund, June 1635

 

Katharina Hagemeister used her bread to mop up the last drops of the rich gravy that had been part of her meal and popped it into her mouth. While she chewed she studied the young woman across the table. Tat'yana was spreading butter—real butter, not dripping—on a thick slice of bread. And as if that wasn't enough, she then spread some jam on top.

Katharina eyed the loaf of bread. She was still hungry. Not that she was being kept short of food, but it took more than a few weeks of eating regularly to make up for years of going hungry.

"Would you like me to cut you a slice?"

Tat'yana's quiet question caused Katharina to meet her eyes. They displayed a kind interest that even after nearly four months she still wasn't used to, not that a girl in her position could ever afford to get used to kindness. "Yes, please."

She licked her lips in anticipation as she watched Tat'yana cut a thick slice of bread, and then proceed to not only spread a thick layer of butter over it, but also spread some of the jam. Katharina bit into the bread and let the tastes fill her senses. For now she was happy, and in her short life she'd already learned to grab any moment of happiness she could.

With the bread safely in her grasp she felt safe enough to delay taking another bite to ask a very important question. "Why are you all so nice to me?"

"Because you keep Viktor calm," Tat'yana told her.

Katharina stared at Tat'yana. "But I'm just his whore. Anybody. . ."

Tat'yana shook her head vigorously. "Don't call yourself a whore, Katharina. Viktor's had whores before, but he's never asked them to move in with him."

"He says I bring him good luck," Katharina said. "But he's not having much luck finding a replacement for Grigori."

"Maybe the right replacement just hasn't turned up yet. Don't let Grigori's replacement worry you." Tat'yana rose and picked up the day's newspaper from the table. "It's time for your reading lesson. Let's go sit in front of the fire."

Katharina finished her piece of bread before she let Tat'yana drag her away from the table. Yes, she wanted to demonstrate how well she was reading these days but that was no reason to abandon good food.

She was only part way through the first article when they were disturbed by one of the employees at the Vulgar Unicorn knocking on the door.

"Come in," Tat'yana called.

The door opened to reveal Anna, a chambermaid, and a scruffy boy with a limp letter in his hand. "Messenger for Herr Viktor," Anna said, pushing the child into the room.

"Thank you, Anna." Tat'yana held out her hand out for the message. Taking it she spoke to Katharina. "Take him into the kitchen and feed him while I check if we need to send a reply."

With a pointed jerk of her head, Katharina led the way to the kitchen. "Do you have a name?"

"Michael."

She noticed the way Michael was staring around the kitchen hopefully. She pointed to one side of the kitchen table and walked around it so she could keep an eye on him. She carefully cut a thick slice of bread, then smeared it with a good thick layer of butter, and covered that with jam before passing it over. "Don't scoff it down in one go. Take your time while I get you something to drink."

Michael actually took a single bite and chewed on it while Katharina watched, but she didn't expect to see much left when she returned with a mug of small-beer. The beer was kept in the same cupboard as a basket of apples, so she picked out a couple of them to give to Michael.

She'd just placed the beer and apples in front of him when Tat'yana came back. She smiled at the boy. "Is Katharina looking after you?"

He nodded, gesturing to the remains of the bread in his hand and the beer and apples in front of him. "Good. Katharina, while this young man finishes eating I want you to go and get changed. We have to see Viktor at the warehouse and you might have to run messages."

Katharina was out the door and heading for the room she shared with Viktor in a flash.

****

Viktor listened as Tat'yana read the message from a radio operator within the Swedish garrison. When she finished he considered his options. He liked them. It seemed there was going to be an uprising in Mecklenburg. Actually, it sounded as if there was going to be an uprising throughout the territories of the USE, but Viktor knew his territories, and although most of the USE wouldn't present much opportunity for profit, he could see plenty occurring in the potential conflict between the forces of the Committees of Correspondence and the noble houses of Mecklenburg. He should just have enough time to load a ship and hit the coast near Wismar before the Committee men got that far.

His eyes fell on the young urchin who had accompanied Tat'yana and Katharina. "You, you know Fritz Felix?"

"Master of the Parrot?" Michael asked.

"Yes." Viktor opened his purse and counted out four Franconian Brass Brillos—the coin of choice for people who didn't like the new paper dollars—into Michael's hand. "Find him, tell him Viktor wants him to get the Parrot ready to sail and have him come here."

Michael wrapped his fingers tightly around the coins, repeated Viktor's instructions, and ran off.

Now Viktor turned to Katharina. He grabbed her around the waist, threw her up into the air and caught her. "Didn't I say you bring me luck? And now you bring me a civil war on my doorstep." He lowered Katharina to the ground and hugged her. "I want you to find Lasse and have him come here immediately."

Katharina nodded and ran off, leaving Viktor with just his inner circle of Boris, his trusted partner of twelve years, and Tat'yana, their partner of six years.

"You're planning on selling weapons to the nobles so they can defend themselves against the Committee of Correspondence men?" Tat'yana asked.

"Such golden opportunities are few and far between, Tat'yana," Viktor said. "We'll start with Wismar and stay a little ahead of the Committee men as they advance. With the immediate threat of the Committee men advancing upon them the nobles will be willing to pay well to arm their retainers. Come, let us check the inventory and decide what to take with us."

 

Two weeks later, Warnemünde, Mecklenburg

 

Georg Heinrich Mevius was barely out of university and owed his new and prestigious position to his father's most successful relative, Prof. Dr. Friedrich Mevius of the University of Greifswald, who, impressed with Georg's academic achievements, had recommended him for the position with the "noble and high" Klaus von Bülow of the Doberan branch of the mighty von Bülows. However, those academic achievements meant nothing right now as he tried to handle the musket with its socket bayonet as if he knew what he was doing. He sent the man beside him a silent appeal for help.

Johannes Rutgers, a mercenary in Klaus von Bülow's employ, sighted along the rifled musket he was holding. "French muskets you say?"

Viktor nodded. "Recovered from the battlefields of Ahrensbok and repaired by gunsmiths in Stralsund. They all have the new percussion cap lock, which is much more reliable than the flint lock action of the USE service rifle the Committee men currently causing so much trouble in Mecklenburg are using."

"That means we must also purchase percussion caps," Johannes said. "I've heard that they aren't very reliable."

"You are thinking of the inferior French pattern percussion caps. They don't use fulminate of mercury, which makes for a cheaper percussion cap, but one prone to hang-fires and misfires. I prefer to deal in the BuCS caps, which do use fulminate of mercury. They cost a little more, but what price does one put on reliability?"

Georg saw the shared smile between the two men and wondered what he was missing. "Are you happy with the muskets, Herr Rutgers?"

"Yes, but His Excellency was hopeful of obtaining some of the new cartridge weapons." He stared at Viktor. "Do you have any Cardinals?"

Viktor nodded. "Not actual Cardinals, but Suhl produced weapons based on the same up-time design the French copied. Not that I have many, just a dozen."

"We'll take all of them," Johannes announced.

Georg was happy that Johannes had taken responsibility for the decision. That left him with the job of negotiating. "Johannes, bring up the money chest. Before we start negotiating a fair price, there is the small matter of the method of payment. My employer finds that he is in possession of a quantity of USE dollars. Will you accept them in payment?"

He watched Viktor glance over at his partner, a young woman, and the leader of the armed sailors who had accompanied them. When they nodded Georg knew he was going to be able to dispose of some, if not all of the USE dollars his employer had been forced to accept in payment for goods and services to the Swedes.

"They are a bit difficult to exchange for real money. What do you value them at?" Viktor asked

Georg had been expecting this. In theory one thaler was worth one hundred paper USE dollars, but this far from Magdeburg most were traded at a discount. "One hundred to the thaler."

Viktor snorted. "I'd be lucky to buy a thaler for less than a hundred and twenty dollars in Stralsund."

"Split the difference, one hundred and ten," Georg responded.

Viktor scowled at Georg then nodded. "We have a deal."

Georg took the hand Viktor offered. Viktor's grip was firm, but short of crushing. There was a message there—a subtle warning that Viktor could be dangerous if he chose to be. That fitted what little Georg had been able to discover about the man. Viktor dealt honestly and expected others to deal honestly with him. Okay, so maybe he'd lied about how much the USE dollars might be worth in Stralsund, but that was just bargaining. Where it really mattered, such as the quality of what he sold, you could buy from him knowing you got what you paid for.

 

Aboard the Parrot

 

Fritz Felix, master of the Parrot, raised his mug of ale. "Let's drink to a most successful sales trip and raise sail for Stralsund."

Viktor shook his head. "Not Stralsund. We head back toward Wismar. The Committee men should have dealt with the nobles around the city by now and they'll likely be short of ammunition and other supplies. Not only that, they might even have weapons to trade."

"You intend buying back the weapons you sold the nobles around Wismar?" Fritz asked.

"Not just Wismar, but everywhere we have sold weapons ahead of the advancing Committee men," Viktor said.

Fritz shook his head in admiration. "That's real cheek that is, Viktor."

"No, it is business. The Committee men have their SRG's and they don't need anything else, so any other weapons they find are surplus, and with their funny attitudes, they'll be buying food and ammunition where they can rather than foraging. That means they are likely to be short of money, and they'll be willing to sell surplus weapons for anything they can get."

"Are we going to be accepting promissory notes?" Tat'yana asked.

"What? Sell on credit? Viktor?" Fritz shook his head with disbelief that someone so close to Viktor could suggest such a thing. He was surprised when Viktor turned to Tat'yana and asked "Why?"

"Because they're the CoC," Tat'yana said. "It won't hurt to get in good with them, and if we're careful who we accept notes from there shouldn't be too much trouble getting them redeemed. From everything I've read, Gretchen Richter will insist on it."

"You mean their credit is good," Fritz said.

Tat'yana smiled. "Better than good. Their reputation depends on fair dealing, and a reputation for failing to redeem promissory notes would hurt them."

"Of course, they might need time to pay," Boris warned.

"But they will pay," Tat'yana responded. "And that's all that matters."

 

Two weeks later, Stralsund

 

Katharina watched the Parrot tie up alongside the wharf. It had been over a month since she'd last seen her protector, and she had started to worry. Lasse Pettersson, the young man Viktor had instructed to look after her while they were away, had tried to reassure her that there was nothing to worry about, but he couldn't understand what it was like to be a young girl alone on the streets. She'd been lucky. Normally Viktor wouldn't have looked at a girl as young as she, but he'd wanted to celebrate something with a virgin, and she'd been the first one he found. He'd saved her from a life of servicing drunken sailors five kreuzers at a time.

She barely waited for Tat'yana to step off the gangplank before charging up to her and hugging her. "You're back. I thought you were never coming back."

Tat'yana hugged her back. "I'm sorry we were gone so long. Has anything interesting happened while we were away?"

"A Swedish officer came looking for Viktor," Katharina reported.

"A Swede? What could he want with Viktor?" Tat'yana asked.

"He wouldn't say," Katharina said. "I told him Viktor was away on business." She waited, hoping that she'd done right.

"Do you know who it was?" Tat'yana asked.

Relieved that Tat'yana wasn't angry she nodded. "Lieutenant-colonel Wachtmeister. He said he'd wait for Viktor to come back."

****

Lieutenant-colonel Erik Wachtmeister watched the men walking off the Parrot. He didn't know what the man he wanted looked like, but the man beside him did.

"That's him," Sergeant Jon Joakimsson Rambo said as a solidly built man walked down the gangplank and joined the small group waiting on the dock.

"No time like the present. Let's see if this Viktor of yours is willing to take our little problem off our hands."

Jon Joakimsson snorted. "He's not my Viktor, and Sergeant Hering isn't a problem. Herr Captain Blom is a problem."

"And as long as the colonel resists demands for Sergeant Hering's dismissal, Captain Blom will continue to be a problem," Erik agreed. "Come on, you can make the introductions."

****

"Viktor, this is Lieutenant-colonel Erik Wachtmeister. He works for Colonel Lillie, and he has an offer you can't refuse."

Erik stared at the man Sergeant Rambo had introduced him to. He couldn't exactly say he liked what he was seeing. Viktor was a large man, probably near fifty years of age; with the look of a professional soldier. He accepted Viktor's hand and they played the game of applying pressure. Not enough to hurt, but enough to show they could if they needed to. "I understand you're in the market for a reliable bodyguard."

"Yes," Viktor confirmed warily.

"My colonel hopes you will want to employ a man we are being forced to release from his contract," Erik explained.

"Why would you think I would be interested in someone you don't want?" Viktor asked.

"Because we don't really want to lose him. However, he has managed to . . ." Erik paused to find a suitable word. ". . . offend an important officer. And the officer insists that Sergeant Hering be dismissed."

"And the nature of this 'offense'?" Viktor asked.

Just thinking about it had Erik smiling. "There was an argument, a sword was drawn, and Sergeant Hering was so discourteous as to disarm and disable Captain Blom using nothing more than a simple walking cane."

"Would that be Captain Olof Blom?" Boris asked. "The man who is always bragging about his ability with a sword?"

If Viktor's partner knew that much about Captain Blom maybe the colonel hadn't sent him on a fool's errand after all. "The very one." Erik admitted.

"Oh, dear. Were there many witnesses?" Viktor asked with feigned polite interest.

"Only most of the regiment," Sergeant Rambo said.

Viktor smiled. "I believe I understand the nature of your problem, Lieutenant, and I would be more than happy to meet your Sergeant Hering."

 

Early July, Stralsund

Katharina examined herself in the mirror. She liked what she saw. Long gone was the little girl dressed in rags. Today she looked respectable. The sort of person any shopkeeper would be happy to have venture into their store. She grabbed her shoulder bag and walked into the apartment's lounge. "I'm ready."

Johann Hering, previously of the Swedish Army training regiment based in Stralsund, levered himself out of his chair while glancing at the clock set on the mantle above the fire. "Already?"

Katharina might not know Johann was being sarcastic, but she saw past the wide-eyed innocence on his face. "Tat'yana, Johann's being nasty to me."

Across the room Tat'yana smiled back. "Ignore him. He's just being a male. Now, be good, and be sure to show Johann all around town. Oh, and get me two dozen of the usual." Tat'yana passed Katharina some coins.

Katharina accepted the coins and jerked her head at Johann. "Come on then."

Outside the Vulgar Unicorn Johann walked quietly beside her, his famous walking stick held in one hand. "You don't really have to show me around. I already know Stralsund quite well."

Katarina rolled her eyes. "Are you really that dumb? When Tat'yana said I was to show you around, that's exactly what she meant. That I show you around."

The look on Johann's face told Katharina he still didn't understand. Well, if he was anywhere near as smart as he claimed to be he'd work it out. She walked on.

There was the sound of hurried footsteps as Johann caught up. "Where are we headed?"

"To a store near the docks where they stock Tat'yana's favorite sweets," Katharina explained.

"The docks! Surely that's not a safe place for you or Tat'yana to go on your own?"

Katharina sighed. Men! Of course the docks aren't safe. "I said near the docks. Besides, who's going to bother me when I've got a big strong man like you to protect me?"

Johann flexed his not inconsiderable right bicep and grinned. "You've got that right. Never fear while Johann Hering's here."

Katharina sent Johann a pained look and walked on. Minutes later they arrived at Tat'yana's favorite shop.

Until she'd been taken in by Viktor Katharina had never felt welcome even standing near a shop, but these days, no matter how she was dressed, she was always greeted with a smile. She placed some coins on the counter and smiled at the woman standing behind it. "Two dozen lemon drops please."

The shopkeeper shook her head. "That Tat'yana, she's going to rot her teeth." She reached for a jar behind the counter and carefully counted twenty-four candies into a paper cone and screwed up the ends before handing it to Katharina. She jerked her head toward Johann. "Who's your boyfriend?"

"Johann Hering. He works for Viktor. I'm showing him around," Katharina explained.

The shopkeeper stared at Johann for half a ...