Chapter Two – "Reunions"
The officer's club was abuzz with the news of the recent campaign plans, and although it was dominated by the multitude of Austrian officers of all kinds, small groups of British and Russian officers made their presence known as well. The Alliance against France was thought to be a marvelous idea, and young officers already saw themselves winning battles and capturing hearts of young ladies in their various hometowns, while older and more experienced officers were more skeptical, and discussed different strategies instead of engaging in imaginary victories. Officers were almost overwhelming the club, the doors of which seemed to be open all the time from the constant arrivals and departures. Just as a group of young officers got particularly rambunctious with their odes to their future victories, the door to the main room creaked open, and a man stepped inside, attracting a few curious glances due to his rather colorful appearance. His white coat, unlike those of his fellow officers, was frayed and almost gray from dirt, and instead of the usual belt, he wore a colorful but bedraggled scarf around his waist, to which his Turkish-style saber was attached. Whatever could be seen of his left sleeve, which was almost hidden by the sling supporting his arm, was splattered with blood, leaving no doubt that he had recently participated in a battle.
Taller and of a darker complexion then the other Austrian officers, the young man, a Grenz Captain by the name of Luka Kovac, was from the border of the Empire, and had quickly risen through the ranks when he joined the army several years earlier. His company had been very nearly obliterated in an attack at the Military Border several weeks earlier, and after the death of the Major who had been in charge of the scouting mission during which the company was ambushed, the majority of the men in the company survived largely due to the bravery of Captain Kovac, who took charge of the troops and continued fighting despite being wounded until the enemy fled. He did not deem his wound serious enough to stay off his feet for long and declared himself fit for battle somewhat prematurely, but his superiors thought otherwise and had put him on a temporary leave from active duty. Since he dreaded being inactive while he was recuperating from the wound (which he finally did acknowledge to be serious enough to warrant the leave), he volunteered to take some important papers to the capital, where he would also have a chance to get his shoulder looked at by a better doctor.
The Captain had decided to stop by the officer's club to see if some of his friends were present, and if he encountered any, ask them if he could lodge with one of them during his stay. He found an empty table in the corner and sat down, feeling slightly dizzy from the long ride on a coach over bad roads, which had not done his shoulder any good. A waiter brought him a glass of wine, and Captain Kovac gratefully accepted it. He sipped the wine and observed the other officers, smiling darkly as he heard some of the young men extol their future bravery at war. An officer who at first passed by his table stopped and turned around to take a better look at him, and the Captain recognized his friend and fellow Captain Dragomir Meinl, whose mother was from the same town as the majority of his own family on the father's side and whom he was quite glad to see.
"Luka - you're okay!" his friend exclaimed in their native language, and sat down at the table.
"Obviously I am, my dear friend," Luka countered, shaking his friend's hand. "Where have you heard otherwise?"
"I heard about the ambush – and I have been told that you have been badly injured, although I did not hear how."
"It is not bad – just a scrape."
Dragomir took a good look at other man's tattered sleeve and raised an eyebrow.
"It does look somewhat worse than a scrape to me, but I will take your word for now. So, what are you doing in the capital? I thought you would be in Stubinske Toplice, resting and recuperating at your grandmother's house."
"I tried, but I was ready to jump out of the window after one day, so I asked Colonel Szelenyi to send me to Vienna – since I will be on leave from active duty for at least another month or so, I at least wanted to rest in a place where there would be some people below my grandmother's age. He had some papers that needed to be sent to various people in the capital, so he was delighted to accomplish two things at once, and sent me here with a heap of papers and strict orders to recuperate for as long as I need."
"Well, I will definitely assist you in recuperating, along with my friends – right after we catch up on the last three years. Come on, let us get out of here and have some dinner at my house. You are also welcome to lodge with me. Ah, and Mother will be delighted to see you – she has always had a weak spot for you, you scoundrel…" The two men rose from the table and began to walk towards the door when a man in a British uniform, who was also trying to leave, attempted to brush past them and collided with Luka, who could barely contain a groan as the pain in his shoulder awoke with a vengeance.
"Sorry," the British man muttered in a heavily accented German and Luka momentarily forgot about his shoulder, stunned to hear the familiar voice. The British officer looked similarly surprised, and extended a hand to Luka, who did not accept it. The officer quirked an eyebrow and withdrew his hand.
"Interesting to meet you here, Lieutenant," the Englishman said, switching to English.
"Captain," Luka corrected tersely, glaring at the other man. "Interesting to meet you here too, Major Ross."
"Well, what can I say, it is a small world. I will be sure to mention running into you to my wife - she would definitely want to see you. I must hurry now - I should have been at the Consul's residence half an hour ago. Goodbye – Captain."
Dragomir, who had understood some of the exchange, watched the door close behind the Englishman and turned around to ask his friend how he knew the man. As he caught sight of Luka, he knew that this question would have to wait, because his friend was pale and barely standing up straight, clutching his wounded shoulder with his right hand. Dragomir sighed, muttered something about "God-damned imprudent oversimplifying idiots" under his breath and caught his friend just as he started to collapse.
Fifteen minutes later, Luka regained consciousness and found himself lying on an ottoman in one of the club's back rooms, with Dragomir and a unfamiliar bespectacled man looking down at him concernedly.
"What happened?" he muttered, sitting up slowly and discovering that someone had taken off his coat and shirt while he had been unconscious and that his shoulder had acquired a new bandage at the same time.
"You fainted," Dragomir stated irately.
"I did not faint-"
"Captain, your friend told me that you had a 'scrape' when I was informed that you were ill, but I would hardly call your wound a scrape," the stranger interrupted, looking at him sternly. When he saw confusion on Luka's face, he hastened to introduce himself. "I am Doctor Morgenstern – my practice is just next door to the club, and your friend sent someone to fetch me immediately after you fainted."
Luka resigned himself to being accused of something that sounded like it was done by women rather then men and tried to move his left hand, admitting to himself that he indeed was quite prone to oversimplifying.
"Your 'scrape' began to bleed slightly when you ran into that gentleman earlier," the doctor informed him. "Whoever has taken care of the wound at first did a good job for the beginning, but you need some better treatment if you want to regain full use of it soon and to avoid residual pain. How long has it been since you were wounded?
"About three weeks," Luka admitted, not liking the direction the conversation was heading in. He was right, because the doctor began to look annoyed once again and he did not even dare to look at Dragomir.
"Any sane man with a wound like yours would be resting at home and not gallivanting around the Empire," Morgenstern said, looking at his nervous patient somberly. "May I ask you how you got the wound?" His patient once again eyed his shirt, which lay on a chair nearby, then attempted to visually locate the door, subsequently discovering an infuriated friend in front of it, and resigned himself to answering the question.
"I was wounded the attack on my regiment, but it was noth-"
Dragomir interrupted him this time, looking even angrier then before.
"Luka, you forget that I have known you for many years, and I know that you cannot lie convincingly. While Dr. Morgenstern was taking a look at your shoulder, I ran into someone whose cousin is in your regiment. You know Franjo Bajuk, don't you?"
Luka decided to remain silent and nodded weakly. Lieutenant Bajuk was his second-in-command, so he could not really deny knowing him.
"Well, our mutual friend, Tomislav Bajuk, whom I trust you know quite well, told me that when he was leaving Zagreb a week and a half ago he spoke to his cousin, who told him all kinds of interesting stories, including one about the recent ambush on the border in which a certain Captain almost got run through with a saber. Does this fellow sound like anyone you know?"
Luka nodded again and tried to look repentant, so Dragomir decided to take mercy on his friend, and helped him to put on his shirt and coat. After that, he allowed Dr. Morgenstern to take over, even though his friend looked somewhat afraid of the doctor. The physician checked Luka's pulse, determined that Luka was indeed feeling better, and declared him fit to leave. Luka thanked Morgenstern and allowed his friend to help him to stand up, finally admitting to himself that he was undeniably still feeling quite faint. They were almost out of the door when Morgenstern caught up with them.
"Captain, when you have time, come by my practice. I want to take a better look at your shoulder and perhaps suggest some treatment," the doctor said, directing another stern look at the patient, hoping that he had scared this particular patient into taking better care of himself. "And take it easy – be sure to rest a lot this week."
Luka thanked the doctor, still feeling apprehensive about the man, and before long he and Dragomir were in a carriage heading for the latter's house. The short ride was passed in silence, with Dragomir thinking of ways to make his friend rest and wondering about the Englishman, and with Luka thinking about how comfortable the carriage was compared to the one he rode in on his way to Vienna.
Soon, the carriage stopped, and the men exited it, proceeding into the Meinl family mansion. Dragomir's mother was waiting for them in the foyer, already notified of the young Captain's arrival, clapping her hands in shock when she saw Luka.
"Dear boy, what has happened to you?" she exclaimed, taking in his disheveled state. "Come on, sit down." Luka sat down in a chair, tolerantly endured Danica Meinl's fussing over the "poor dear" who had "gotten himself a little bit hurt" and thought that Dragomir looked too smug for his own good.
Several minutes later, Danica stopped her laments, for which her son was perhaps slightly thankful, because he was about to be kicked very hard by his frantically smiling friend. She rang for the servants, several of which appeared shortly, and instructed them to prepare a room, heat up some water and prepare some of the young master's clothes for the guest. As the servants went off to do their tasks, Danica asked the two young men to follow her to the dining room. Luka was not very hungry, so after eating a bit, he answered Danica's questions about life in her hometown and in the country. After Danica had extracted all of the news about her relations and the goings on in Zagreb from her guest, the two men went upstairs. Luka could not help but feel happy at the thought of clean clothes and hot water – his journey had been long and dusty, and the last bath he took had been somewhat cold, if not downright icy. Gazing at the large tub of steaming water with longing, he noticed his friend watching him anxiously and looked at him pointedly.
"Dragomir, I assure you, I will not drown in a tub. Now out with you." Dragomir left, still not appearing confident that his friend would not drown in a couple of inches of water. Luka quickly got rid of his dusty uniform and after carefully taking his bandage off, sank into the warm water with a sigh of bliss.
When the water started to cool down, he finally recalled the original purpose of being in it and washed off the layers of the dirt that seemed to have accumulated on his face and body during the last couple of days. After deeming himself to be almost as good as new, he stepped out of the tub and looked around for a towel. Just as he had spotted it, the door to the room slammed open and one of the servants that he had seen earlier that evening burst in with a bundle of clothes, laughing merrily. For a moment, both Luka and the servant froze, and then the servant's eyes widened and she almost dropped the clothes she was holding. Luka finally remembered about the towel and grabbed it, wrapping it around himself.
"Here are some clothes of the young master that mistress thought would fit you… sir… Captain…" the servant muttered, her eyes still fixed on him. After he nervously cleared his throat, she seemed to come out of her trance, put the clothes down on a dresser, giggled, and after curtseying, ran out again, closing the door behind her. Luka stood still for a moment, a bit perplexed by what had just went on, and thinking that he should have remembered to lock the door – the Meinl family always seemed to hire the most peculiar people they could find. A sound of distant giggling was heard, and he decided to get dressed before the strange servant woman had a chance to make another appearance.
After re-bandaging his shoulder, dressing himself in the borrowed clothes, and thanking whatever higher power there was that he was lodging with a friend of a similar build and height, he proceeded to Dragomir's study, where his friend was lying on a chair and blowing smoke at the ceiling. Luka sat down on another chair and for a while, just watched the little clouds of smoke floating around the room. He knew that his friend had something on his mind, and he could bet that he had a pretty good idea what his first question would be. He was once again proven right when Dragomir stopped smoking his pipe, and turned around to look at him.
"So, who was that Englishman at the club?"
Luka was silent for a moment, trying to think of a good answer to that question.
"Do you remember Karola Varenica?" he finally said, knowing full well that Dragomir did.
"Of course."
"She is Ross's wife."
Dragomir just stared at him as if he had just told him that he had grown wings.
"How did that happen?" he finally said. "I've been away for too long in the capital, that's for sure."
"Well, Major Ross enjoys traveling, and just after you left for the capital three years ago, he arrived into town, so of course all of the unmarried society women had to go and admire the charming Englishman." Luka scowled and muttered a swearword under his breath. "Karola was the one he liked the best. Just my luck - every woman I like is stolen away from me by some ostentatious twit." Realizing that he had said more then he wanted, he forced himself to smile despite feeling quite dejected, and decided to change the topic.
"So, my friend, can you answer a question that I have been pondering for a long time – why does your family always hire such odd servants?"
Historical A/N: The Grenz were a kind of militia/light infantry who defended the Military Border (Vojinska Krajina) between Austria-Hungary and the Ottoman Empire, and were largely made up of Croats and Serbs, as far as I remember. In 1805, most of Croatia was part of the Hungarian portion of the Empire.
Linguistic A/N: The language spoken in the Viennese chapters is supposed to be German, so just imagine that everyone speaks it, unless I indicate that English or another language is spoken or it is a conversation between Anglophones.
Shout-out A/N: Naomi, I did promise you a dance with a certain Tall, Dark and Handsome man, but I decided to humor you twice since you encouraged me write this fic, so you get a cameo in this chapter. One guess to who she is… And a shout-out to my friend Nikola from Vukovar, whose last name I borrowed for AU Carol, and who still owes me a Ukrainian meal.
Random A/Ns: Some of you might recognize Dragomir (Drago) from my other fics, "Contradictions" and "Of Memories Past." Also, feel free to point out any time inconsistencies – I am mostly guessing the time it takes to cover a certain distance since I am far from my beloved Internet most of the time, and it since was 115 F° here in Morocco earlier this week, my brain melted down. For those who don't know, which is most of the readers, on July 14 I am going to travel across 2 continents and 5 countries in 24 hours – Morocco to Czech Republic via Belgium by plane, then Czech Republic to Hungary via Slovakia by train. And two days later, I am flying to Croatia…