The Clock

By Susan Lyttek

The duke tilted his head back to gaze up at my masterpiece as he patted my shoulder. “Our cathedral will be both the tallest and the best in all of Europe with your clockwork show, Hans.”

“We’re ready for the reveal tomorrow, Your Grace. We’ll run through everything tonight to make sure it’s flawless.”

The royal flicked an imaginary piece of detritus off of his impeccable suit. “You are the best, Hans.”

“I like to think so, sir.”

The duke adjusted his sleeves. Were those immense gold cufflinks new? “The best needs no practice.”

“Sir?”

“You will reveal the automatons to the city tonight.”

My chest tightened as if one of my counterweights had slipped. “Tonight?”

“Starting at one. It will be an all-night celebration for our duchy.” He straightened his jacket, using his clothing again to avoid looking at me. “Unless you want to breach our contract…?”

The promise of the duke’s continued patronage and the equivalent of two years’ pay kept me from panicking whenever I passed a creditor on the street. I couldn’t afford to fail.

“Very well, Your Grace.” I bowed. When I stood, I finally saw his eyes. Their gleam chipped away at my assurance, but I didn’t have time to ponder it.

I ran up the tower steps, only stopping twice to catch my breath. “Gregorio! The duke has changed our plans.”

“Master?”

“We unveil tonight at one.”

His mouth fell open. “But the checks…”

“Will have to be done as the automatons are unveiled. We must have faith in our work.”

I skirted the narrow passageway to the first construct—a young girl with a basket. She would pick flowers, just as my Katerina used to. I opened a panel in her back to check her gears.

“Gregorio!”

He was at my side in seconds.

“What do you see?”

He leaned in. I could almost feel his jaw hit my shoulder. “The counterweights! Half of them are missing.”

I had a few weights that we hadn’t used. I could repair this one. But…

“Check the others, quickly. Just open and look for the balances.”

Gregorio did so while I repaired the girl. A critical half hour later, he returned. “Every automaton is missing at least one weight.” He counted on his fingers. He counted again. “We would need at least eighteen weights and six hours to fix them all.”

“What we have are three weights and three hours.” I closed the first automaton after ensuring she would move properly. One o’clock would be fine, but noon would be a disaster. If we made it that far. I looked past him at the storage closets that held my creations. Months of effort. For nothing. Who would have done this? And why?

Gregorio scuffed the floor with his heavy boot. A piece of worn stone broke off and skittered across the passageway, out the opening and down to the ground far below. I didn’t hear it hit.

It was a tall tower. So tall that the workmen who’d built it hadn’t wanted to take the excess stone down afterward.

“We have rock,” I whispered.

“Master?”

“We must rebalance each automaton.”

Gregorio looked at me as if I were a misfit automaton. “How?”

“Rock,” I answered, pointing to the storage room just below us. “Lots and lots of rock. We can fix them properly later.”

For the next two hours, we lugged stones of all shapes and sizes. The huge candle that made the clock visible through the night lit our way. When one o’clock chimed, I was sweaty, but content. This could work. We’d also stockpiled a few slabs to keep an automaton that was either too light or too heavy from moving beyond its routine.

I fixed two and three o’clock while Gregorio fetched sandwiches and water. “Sorry it took so long. Gerta said the duke is planning a big feast for the prince tomorrow.”

That was odd. Perhaps he intended to celebrate our automaton show?

Hour by hour, we moved rocks around the clock. Sometimes an automaton would lean precariously for a moment or start to slide past its track, but nothing someone on the ground would notice.

Then noon came. The square below was packed to capacity. I couldn’t see the pavement through all the people.

All the automatons emerged and performed their part of the dance. Dressed in black to be invisible to any audience, we skittered around the massive people and animals, making certain they moved exactly as intended. One automaton kicked as another bent over. A bear reared as a woodsman approached. They looked as if they would crash into each other, but the choreography worked, thanks to the energy from the clock itself and our strategically placed rocks. Gregorio and I continued to adjust the rocks on the track until the routine ended.

Faint applause began, and then roared to a crescendo that I thought would shake the clock itself.

After all the automatons had returned to their closets, Gregorio and I descended the long spiral staircase. In the church’s nave, about twenty people congregated, including the duke and next to him, the prince.

“Your Highness!” I raced down the last few stairs and bowed as deeply as my sore muscles allowed.

“Rise.” He favored me with a smile. “Quite a show, Hans Schmidt. Quite a show indeed.”

The duke grumbled something.

The prince glanced sideways at him. “I would say it honored the contract. You had hinted he was a trickster out to swindle the city. Shame on you. I guess you will have to dive into those treasuries and pay the man.” He turned to me. “Could you build one of these at the palace?”

I nodded. Smiled. And knew the truth that I had suspected.

Somehow our duke had arranged for weights to disappear, but he hadn’t planned for the rocks around the clock.

Can you guess which song from the 1950's inspired this story? Share in the comments!

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Susan A. J. Lyttek, author of four novels, (fifth out June 2019) award-winning writer, blogger, wife and mother to two homeschool graduates currently escapes her employment search by writing random stories. You can find out more about her and her books at her website.

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