Free Sent to the Devil by Laura Lebow

front of Strasser’s face, and then lifted it over his head. “If you truly loved Austria, you’d be in Semlin with the emperor and his brave men. You are just a coward, posing as an intellectual!” As he brought the stick down, Strasser ducked to avoid the blow.
    Urbanek rushed forward and took the nobleman’s arm. “Baron Hennen,” he said. “Please, no violence. This is holy ground.” Strasser glanced at me, turned, and hurried away.
    The baron shoved the priest’s hand off his arm. “I am sorry, Father. I just hate cowards. He has a lot of nerve, always talking about how Austria is the aggressor in this war. I am tired of hearing it.” He gestured toward Strasser’s back. “See, there he goes, slinking off. He doesn’t even have the courage to stay here and argue with me.”
    â€œCome inside, my son,” Urbanek said. “Come in and sit with me a while. We will pray together. You will find some peace.”
    â€œNo, thank you, Father. There is nothing in there for me,” Hennen said. “Excuse me. I must get home.” He turned and clumped toward the Stock-im-Eisen-Platz.
    Urbanek shook his head as we watched him go. “That man is always angry,” he said.
    â€œHe seems to pick a fight with anyone who doesn’t agree with him about the war,” I said.
    Urbanek thought for a moment. “No. He’s angry at God, I think—because he is a cripple.”
    I said good-bye and watched Urbanek enter the cathedral. When I rounded the corner of the building, I saw Strasser at the far end of the side plaza. I ran to catch up with him.
    â€œAre you all right, Erich?” I asked.
    â€œOh, Lorenzo! Good evening. Yes, I am fine. Are you headed home?”
    I nodded. We turned into the Wollzeile. “That’s the second time this week I’ve seen Baron Hennen arguing with someone about the war,” I said.
    Strasser let out a deep breath. “Yes. My work makes me an easy target for these prowar zealots. And it doesn’t help that I look like a Turk.”
    â€œAre you opposed to the war?” I asked.
    â€œYes, Lorenzo, I am. It is not a just war. The Ottomans are not the aggressors here. They are merely defending their borders from the empress of Russia’s plans to dominate the Black Sea.” We walked past the medieval university building and the pleasant square that fronted the university church.
    â€œI thought the emperor was imprudent to sign the treaty promising to support Catherine,” Strasser continued. “His decision was shortsighted. He’s alienating all of our allies in western Europe with this war. Many of them were already dismayed by his expansionist policies in Bavaria and the Netherlands.”
    We walked through the Stuben gate. Ahead of us, on the banks of the narrow river, a team of oxen was pulling a barge. The long, flat boat was loaded with two large howitzer guns.
    â€œHow many times have you traveled to the Ottoman Empire?” I asked. “It is clear that you love the place.”
    â€œI was born there,” Strasser said. “My father was an engineer here in Vienna. He was sent to Constantinople by the old empress to map some of the territory around the Ottoman capital. My mother was a Turk, the daughter of a merchant. They had a brief, hard marriage. My mother was ostracized from her family for marrying a Christian. She died a year after I was born. My father sent me here to Vienna, to live with his aunt and uncle while he continued his work for the empress. I never saw him again. He died in Constantinople two years later.”
    We turned into our street.
    â€œI suppose that’s why I’ve committed my life to studying the Ottomans,” Strasser said. “It’s my way of staying close to the memory of my parents. When the empress established the Oriental Academy to foster the study of the empire, I was one of its first pupils.