Since the letter arrived on his desk, Duke Maximilian had begun referring to his fiancée as die Habsburgerin. That was not a good omen. Before his first marriage, he had refused to accept any Habsburg bride.
The privy council, backed with numerous legal opinions from consulting jurists, determined, reluctantly, that the archduchess did in fact have the right to participate.
"Duchess Elisabeth Renata," the duke said, "never did anything of the sort."
That was most certainly true.
After the meeting, several of the less important members of the privy council discovered that they had urgent business on their country estates. Business that was too urgent to permit them to remain in Munich between now and the wedding. They would return the following week, they said. Several of the more important members of the council devoutly wished that they could do the same.
After all, "You have saddled me with a termagant," was not a promising statement for a bridegroom to make a week before his wedding. Neither was, "God is punishing me for listening to you when you tempted me to break my vow to enter a monastery." That sort of statement tended to be followed by adverse consequences for the luckless advisors.
* * * *
There was a lot of excitement and gossip. After all, Bavaria now had two very prominent, foreign, accused witches right here in Munich. If they were found guilty after a proper investigation, and the duke so decided, the burning might even be part of the wedding festivities. People shivered; some with excitement, some with apprehension.
* * * *
The hearing occurred. Maria Anna, on the principle of "begin as you mean to go on," participated fully in the discussions. Since formal hearings were open to the public, reporters were present. They took notes. And, the instant the hearing closed, headed for the post office, scribbling as they went. As did clerks from the various embassies.
The women were who they said they were.
More than enough members of the various foreign missions in Munich had seen Mrs. Simpson in Magdeburg to verify that; some had even been introduced to her at receptions and other official functions. Far fewer had previously seen Mrs. Dreeson.
Duke Maximilian, however, deemed the number of witnesses to her identity to be sufficient, particularly since one of those witnesses, who did not, however, appear on the stand, was his most important spy in Amberg. His spy had provided him with an extensive written narrative of what Duke Ernst's council appeared to know about the two women's disappearance, which was disappointingly little. None of the data that the regent had obtained in the Upper Palatinate itself appeared to clearly, much less conclusively, link their disappearance to Leuchtenberg. Indeed, the primary speculation there was that the kidnapping had been arranged by Duke Maximilian himself to obtain the women as hostages.
Maximilian pursed his lips. Dimwits.
The Amberg council, the spy said, appeared to be more confused than anything else by the accounts involving Leuchtenberg that had appeared in the newspapers. Maximilian found that disappointing. Since his own people were confused, he had hoped for clarification from the other party's intelligence.
There was insufficient evidence to bring an indictment for witchcraft.
In fact, Duke Maximilian noted, there was no evidence whatsoever to bring an indictment for witchcraft other than the completely unsubstantiated accusations made by the two bargemen, Forst and Becker. Upon repeated close questioning in Freising, it appeared from their subsequent statements that they had no evidence either; they had simply made an unsubstantiated assumption. No one could list any supposed maleficia committed by either of the women.
Moreover, Frau Simpson, when asked if she had ever worshiped the devil, had replied, "You've got to be kidding."
However—
There was also no reasonable explanation for their arrival in Bavaria.
Therefore, they would remain in detention pending further investigation. Dekan Golla suggested interning them in the convent of the Poor Clares. Archduchess Maria Anna of Austria suggested interning them with the English Ladies as an alternative. Golla glared at her.
Duke Maximilian took the alternatives under advisement. Pending a decision, the foreign women would remain in the official custody of the archduchess, thus satisfying the jurisdictional concerns of the prince-bishop of Freising, but would reside with the English Ladies. According to the formal minutes of the hearing, the duke determined that this was the most convenient solution in the short term, given that the Ladies had dismissed their pupils in honor of the wedding festivities and their house, therefore, would provide a peaceful retreat for Bavaria's unexpected guests, offering them a period of recollection and recovery.
Dr. Donnersberger was rather proud of that last sentence. He had drafted it himself.
* * * *
Vienna
Father Lamormaini read the despatches from Munich. He read the newspapers.
Marry her off to the right man, and soon.
He had tried. "Man proposes; God disposes." Duke Maximilian had his full sympathy.
* * * *
Brussels, the Spanish Netherlands
"Fascinating," commented Don Fernando, as he laid down the report. "Don't you think so, Pieter?"
Rubens was not sure how to respond. Ruefully, he was reflecting that having a direct radio connection in Amsterdam—the Prince of Orange and Rebecca Abrabanel were being most accommodating, in that regard—was not always a blessing. In times past, it might easily have taken weeks for this news to get from Bavaria to the Netherlands.
"What I mean is, Maximilian is by all accounts a formidable man," the prince continued. "He's sixty-one years old, to boot. And the archduchess defied him? On more or less the eve of their wedding?"
Rubens cleared his throat. "Well... I'm not sure 'defied' isn't too strong a term, Your Highness."
Don Fernando gave him a smile that bordered on a jeer. "Oh, stop trying to maneuver me. You know what I mean! I imagine you think of it as protecting me from youthful enthusiasms, yes?"
That was, in point of fact, exactly how Rubens perceived the matter.
The prince looked around the audience chamber. "Where did you hide the portraits, by the way? You know what I mean! Did you really think I wouldn't notice?"
Rubens sighed. "I'll have them brought out, if you insist. But I will point out again that there is simply no purpose—"
"Yes, yes, I know. Still, I'd like to look at it again."
"It," not "them." Worse and worse.
* * * *
Fifteen minutes later, the portraits of the two Austrian archduchesses were back in the audience chamber, propped up on armchairs.
Don Fernando did not so much as glance at the portrait of Cecelia Renata. But he spent some considerable studying the portrait of the older of the two sisters.
To be fair, Rubens allowed, the artist who had portrayed Maria Anna had done a superb job. It was quite difficult—he knew from his own experience—to do one of these formal portraits without rendering the subject so solemn and stiff that all personality was leached away.
The portrait of Cecelia Renata was of that sort. Just a painting, of a pretty young woman in very expensive costume, looking... like a pretty young woman.
Maria Anna's portrait, on the other hand, had genuine intensity. The dark eyes looking out possessed obvious intelligence; and there was something subtle about the mouth that suggested a wry wit lurking beneath the slight smile.
"She's interesting," Don Fernando finally pronounced. "I mean, she is. Not her station."
Rubens ordered the servants to wrap up the portraits and return them to his chambers.
"Yes, I suspect you're right, Your Highness. What I am certain of, however, is that her father is Ferdinand II, Emperor of the Holy Roman Empire, and her soon-to-be husband is Duke Maximilian of Bavaria. An avalanche can also be described as 'interesting'—which doesn't make it any less impossible to stop once it starts moving."
"Oh, stop fussing at me, Pieter. Remin
ds me of my blasted tutors from the years in Madrid. Sour old men. I was just making an observation, that's all."
* * * *
Munich, Bavaria
Mary Ward would have much preferred to have the two women from Grantville placed with the Poor Clares—or in any other convent in Munich that was not the house of the English Ladies on Paradise Street. Their presence put her in a considerable dilemma in the matter of following the papal instructions to leave Munich.
They could not use the first idea that Father Rader suggested, that they leave Munich without arousing any suspicion for several days by announcing that they were going on a short pilgrimage to Ettal while the school was closed for the wedding festivities. Ettal as a goal had the advantage of being in Upper Bavaria, about 35 miles south of Munich, not at all in the direction of any border that Bavaria had with the USE.
But they could not plausibly go on a pilgrimage and leave their unexpected "guests" unattended. Nor, for that matter, could they take them along.
They could still, of course, leave Munich "surreptitiously" and take their guests along when they left. It didn't seem likely that Frau Simpson and Frau Dreeson would have any objection to leaving Munich and going to Grantville.
The problem was that if they left the city without having announced a reasonable pretext, pursuit could be expected to follow much more quickly than under the original plan. Mary Ward was under no delusions. She lived under the shadow of the inquisition. All of her movements were observed.
Additionally, several important wedding guests who had been scheduled to lodge in the English Ladies' house during the wedding festivities were now looking for other quarters. Assisted, naturally, by Father Rader.
At the moment, however, she was informed by the cook that Benno, who delivered produce, was engaged in a bitter dispute with Korbinian, who delivered fish, and who now asserted that the week before, Benno had collected the larger payment that had been owed to the fishmonger and now refused to make restitution of the portion that was not rightfully his. In this vale of sorrows, questions of great policy were frequently punctuated by extremely mundane interruptions. She proceeded to the kitchen, settled the matter, and then stood with her hand on the door jamb, looking out the back door into the alley at the shabby lean-to shed that had been built onto the back of the house on the other side.
Chapter 39
Peregrinatores Suspiciosi
Munich, Bavaria
München. Unlike many German cities, it was not named for a castle, nor a mountain. Monacum, the town of the monk. Leopold Cavriani paused long enough for Marc to take a good look.
Munich was impressive, even compared to Nürnberg. Over the past couple of years, Marc had become accustomed to measuring every other town and city by the standard of Nürnberg—its population of forty thousand people, its churches, its civic buildings, its guild halls, its music. Jacob Durre was, passionately, a Nürnberg local patriot. He had managed to share part of his love of his adopted city with Marc. From his perspective, one of the greatest blessings that the coming of Grantville had brought to the Germanies was that in this world, the battle of the Alte Veste had not resulted in the deaths of about two-thirds of the population of that city and the equally harsh devastation of a wide swath of the hinterland around it.
The capital of Bavaria wasn't as large, of course. Its population was less than half that of Nürnberg, probably not much over eighteen or nineteen thousand, if you counted only the citizens and their households. In Munich, though, a person would have to add the people living at the court and the far larger numbers of clergy. And, of course, the beggars. Duke Maximilian had issued a strict ordinance regulating the poor just a few years previously. Still, though, even with those, it was only about half as big as Nürnberg.
According to his father, if life was fair, Duke Maximilian of Bavaria ought to be just as grateful to Grantville as Jacob Durre was. Even the very general descriptions of Gustav Adolf's 1632 campaigns in Bavaria that were in the history books that came back in time made it clear that the Swedes had devastated the duchy in that other world. In this world, after the Alte Veste, with the exception of leaving Banér in the Upper Palatinate and Horn in Swabia, the Swedes had withdrawn to the north. Bavaria was still, in this summer of 1634, except for Ingolstadt, essentially untouched by the war's destruction, its great abbeys and convents intact and its castles unburned.
Maximilian was prepared for war, though. Munich's fortifications were impressive. Marc had been expecting the church towers. He had seen the old view of the city, from about seventy five years before, in a book about the cities of the world, while he was in Nürnberg. That book proclaimed that Munich excelled and out-dazzled all the other seats of German princes in its "elegant cleanliness." Since then, around and outside the old medieval walls, smooth curtain walls in a sort of irregular egg-shape, the dukes of Bavaria had constructed another set of modern walls with every imaginable innovation. The arrow-shaped extrusions almost looked like they were weapons themselves. Marc was hoping that he would have time to get a good look at them.
They were coming in on the Augsburger Strasse, from the southwest. Leopold had cut directly south from Neuburg until they intersected it. He said that arriving from that direction would attract less attention than coming from the northwest on the Nürnberger Strasse, since entering there led visitors directly past the Residenz itself, where security would certainly be highest. The view lacked the drama of Nürnberg, where the old medieval fortress stood high above the rest of the city. The walls were impressive enough without it.
Leopold had been giving considerable thought to where they should stay. Cavriani Frères de Genève did not have a factor conveniently located in this most Catholic of Catholic cities. The first question was "inside or outside the walls?" Either had its advantages and disadvantages. If they stayed outside the walls, they would not be trapped within the city when the gates closed at night. That would give them somewhat more flexibility. Also, because of the wedding, lodgings inside the city would be hard to find, as well as expensive. While Marc looked at Munich's walls, his father looked at the parking area where the baggage-wagons for the duke's guests had been collected. He looked even more closely at the constant stream of servants going back and forth through the gates to the wagons.
It was that, finally, that decided him. He would not have begrudged the money that an inn inside the walls would have cost, but staying outside would work better. They would be in a camp in which, basically, almost nobody knew anybody else, so no one would be in a position to watch them doing something they "shouldn't" or keeping a routine that they "oughtn't." He turned his horse toward the baggage wagons; Marc followed. Renting a place to stake their horses and put out their pallets at night took less than a half hour.
* * * *
Marc was still feeling a little deprived. At the very least, he thought, they should have needed to sneak around, peeking into dungeons and making secret signals, until they found the damsels in distress whom they had come to rescue. Well, not damsels, precisely. At any rate, until they found Frau Simpson and Frau Dreeson. Instead, the newspaper had announced the duke's decision that they would be interned in the house of the English Ladies. It had even conveniently provided the name of the street on which the house was to be found.
His father said that the first order of business was to become familiar with the city and its streets, before they went anywhere near that house. Munich wasn't all that large. An energetic man could walk across it, north to south or east to west, in fifteen minutes. The bridge across the multiple channels of the Isar River was on the east, opposite to where they had entered the city through the Neuhäuser Gate, leading from the Salzburger Strasse past the Jesuit collegium.
They were being tourists, though, like a couple of thousand other people who were wandering around the city this morning, so they hadn't taken the short route. They had first passed the old palace, built by Duke Maximilian's grandfather Albert, as they came in. Leopold sa
id, quite seriously, "We are very fortunate. Through certain informal connections, my factor in Pfaffenhofen was able to obtain tickets for us to view the late Duke Albert's collection of antiquities tomorrow afternoon. It is too bad that Duke Maximilian does not permit public access to his own collections. They are said to be very extensive—tapestries, jewels, paintings. Unlike France, where the royal palaces are virtually open to the public and the king's own bedchamber may be viewed by the curious when he is not in residence, the duke keeps his own apartments and chapel very private. Even the court nobility have only limited access, and that by invitation only."
They crossed over to the south side of the collegium and walked along the main street through the "Beautiful Tower." They looped around the Frauenkirche with its two round-topped towers. It was almost in the center of town, facing onto the Schrannenplatz. St. Peter's church, der Alte Peter, was on a line with it. Marc had never seen a city with quite so many churches and monasteries. Back on the main street, they walked northeast through the chief marketplace, past the parliament house where the Bavarian Estates met, and the city hall.
"The Estates," Leopold commented, "have frequently not been happy with the cost of all this ducal splendor. In 1571, the ducal household was up to more than eight hundred and fifty people. Just Duke Wilhelm's investment in music, Orlando di Lasso, Andrea Gabrieli, sixty-odd singers and instrumentalists, plus a boys' chorus, was incredibly expensive. The extravagance of it all was why, in 1597, the Estates compelled Duke Wilhelm to abdicate in favor of his son. A lot of Duke Maximilian's efforts during the first years of his rule went to getting a grip on the financial situation. Even now, though, when the total number of court personnel is smaller, most of it comprises the duke's own household: the hunt, the stables, the cellar, the kitchens, the bodyguards; painters, sculptors, craftsmen, tailors. Duke Maximilian's 'strictest economy' has only reduced the court personnel to about seven hundred and seventy. Less than a fourth are engaged in the administration of the duchy, from the highest member of the privy council down to the most junior clerk. And, of course, Duke Albrecht has his own household, with his own major domo and steward. As will the new duchess."