All would be well.
She drew a breath before turning to the man. “Thank you. Yes. My betrothed is waiting for me here.” She nodded at him and turned towards the innkeeper, who stepped out of the main door. He was a tall, burly man with a white apron knotted at his waist; an important fellow, who not only oversaw the post but also waited upon distinguished guests. He strode out with a swaggering gait, puffed up with an air of self-consequence. A steep frown darkened his brow.
“You have to be more careful, Fräulein. Can’t survive in the city if you can’t take care of your odds and ends.” He turned back to the inn.
“I am looking for the student Lindenstein. He lives here.” Pippa stepped up to him. “Could you please tell him that his betrothed has arrived?”
The man cast a dismissive look over his shoulder. “I know no student Lindenstein. This is an inn, Fräulein, not lodgings for students.”
Panic welled up. “Klemens, then. Klemens Lindenstein. He has to live here! I sent all my mail to this address in the past.”
But the man was already walking away.
The old Pippa would have uttered a string of curses that would have made any hardened man blush. But this Pippa, after days of being jolted around in the mail coach, with very little fare and even less sleep, hollow and numb from recent events, had no more spirit left in her.
She grabbed his arm. “Please,” she begged. “Please tell me he lives here.”
The innkeeper shook her hand off. “Letters come for every sort of fellow, but that doesn’t mean they lodge here. Gentlemen often have their post directed here, and I don’t keep every name in my head. Now, look here. I’m a busy man. Book a room, or take your luggage and move along.”
It was on Pippa’s lips to say that she would take a room. It would be the most sensible thing to do, to stay here and wait for Klemens. For surely, if she waited long enough, Klemens would come.
Until reality hit. “I have no money,” she whispered. “They stole my money.”
The innkeeper’s eyes turned to two hard, beady stones. “In that case, move on.”
She fingered the simple golden ring that hung from a band from her neck. It was Klemens’ ring. No. She couldn’t offer that in exchange. Why, oh why, hadn’t it occurred to her to sew a few coins into her hem? Then she would have had at least some payment for a single night.
“I can do some work,” Pippa offered, following the innkeeper. “For one night, I can help in the kitchen, or in the stable. I’m good with horses. Truly, I am…” Pippa had never helped in the kitchen and she barely knew how to make a fire. She understood horses, however. And numbers. Those she could handle as well as horses, if not better. The innkeeper must have instinctively known that she has not experience with horses, for he merely sneered in response, turned, and slammed the wooden door into her face, leaving Pippa staring at it.
Horseshoes clattered on the cobblestone, and another mail carriage pulled up. The ostlers came running.
“He’s a hard one,” the stable hand said, as he passed her. “Will not give an inch unless you pay. Don’t expect any charity from him, either. It will get dark soon. If you want to get inside the city, better do before they close the city gates, otherwise you have to pay a Kreuzer to pass. Good luck, Fräulein.” He turned to the horses to tend to them.
Pippa’s gaze wandered down the street leading to the heavy city walls and the massive stone gate with the imperial double eagle above it.
She straightened her shoulders, picked up her trunk and set one foot in front of the other, taking her to the gate that was guarded by two men.
One of them, a young, lanky red-head, held out his hand.
“Papers, Fräulein.”
“They were stolen,” she said. “A boy took my reticule.”
The guard frowned. “Then you must go to thePolizeihofstelle.”
“But…why?”
“Unregistered people, foreigners, people without papers have to go to thePolizeihofstelle.”
“Because we don’t have any papers, they treat us like criminals,” said a bearded man, who appeared to have the same problem. “But we’re just normal citizens like anyone else, except if you don’t have papers, they treat you like animals. Me, I’m a blacksmith who came to the city because I heard they have work aplenty here. But, I lost my papers,” he shrugged.
“What will happen there?” Pippa asked with foreboding.
“They will investigate you until you can prove your identity.”
“Investigate?”
“Every individual needs to be accounted for in this state. All thanks to Metternich.” The blacksmith spat on the ground.
