Chapter 38
Brunssum
February 20, 1635
The small village of Brunssum would have looked quite cozy nestled between the snowy hills, but the massed men and horses on the low slopes rather spoiled the picture of rural idyll. Melchior sat quietly on his horse waiting for the villagers to spread the carpet on the cleared hill top, and get the small table with the two chairs in place. It was still quite cold, but the sun combined with the absolute lack of wind meant that his meeting with Don Fernando could take place outdoor, and in full sight of their men. Strictly speaking, that wasn’t necessary as both he and the Don were in full control as leaders. But quite aside from the fact that they were formally two Habsburg armies facing off, they also both knew the value of making a display of poise and calm for the men they led.
Wolf had sent a message yesterday that he had regained control of the road north from Maastricht after a brief fight, and was moving north toward the now occupied Sittard. Don Fernando had holed up in Gangelt during the snowstorm, and managed to take the neighboring Sittard as soon as the snowstorm had ended, but with only two newly conquered towns as a base he was in a vulnerable situation—and knew it. Had he managed to take Jülich Town as well as all the fortifications along the Meuse before Melchior could bring his regiments into play the situation would have been entirely different. But despite having far more resources to call in from the Low Countries than Melchior could muster, the Don had now been willing to meet for a negotiation with only minimal conditions.
Melchior slid off his horse and motioned Simon to follow him. Simon had bounced back from his ordeal with a speed that made Melchior feel positively old, and was once again following Melchior around as a combined courier and aide de camp. They had found Rosy laid up at a farm delirious with fever, and with serious frostbite in his feet, and Schaden had simply attached himself to the regiments again yesterday with a brief report of no major military movements to the north.
That actually made good military sense to Melchior. Normally it would have been best for Don Fernando to sweep down on Jülich Town from the north to support his attack from the west, but his treaties with both the USE and Essen were new, and moving major forces towards their borders could—and probably would—be taken as aggression. Jülich, Luxemburg and the area in between on the other hand were all fairly disorganized, and with no major military forces to oppose him.
“Don Fernando.” Melchior gave his best court-bow and went to take the chair across from the already seated man. That Don Fernando was of much higher rank made it necessary that Melchior was seen accepting his own lower status without appearing subservient, but Melchior was also a capable and respected military leader, and at least in the field he could meet with any other military leader as a near equal.
“My wife, Countess Palatine Katharina Charlotte, sends her regards and best wishes for you and your esteemed wife. And if you would be as kind as to read these papers from your brother-in-law before we start this meeting?” Don Fernando carefully read the papers and looked thoughtful as he passed them back to Melchior.
“Archduke—now king—Ferdinand placed quite a lot of trust in you for someone trained by Wallenstein. And I can see that our cousin has phrased this to indicate that this trust was not expected to change when he followed his father on the throne.” Don Fernando’s rigid posture would have indicated displeasure in most men, but Melchior had met enough Spanish noblemen in Vienna to ignore that impression, and instead watch his opponent’s eyes.
“Yes,” Melchior made sure he replied with a small bow of his head without bending his back. “I have never cared for politics or lent myself to intrigues. And unless you believe my liege lord to be mistaken in his trust, I suggest we get right to the point.”
Don Fernando inclined his head slightly, but said nothing.
“My wife’s claim on Jülich has been accepted by the most important members of her family as well as by the USE government. And I have the men and money to turn any attempt to take it from her into a most costly undertaking.”
This extremely blunt speaking produced a raised eyebrow followed by another small nod.
“My wife wishes Jülich to keep its sovereignty, but realizes that keeping Jülich an independent state among such powerful neighbors is likely to lead to attempts to change that. Such as this.” Melchior indicated Don Fernando and his army with a wave of his hand, and continued. “My wife has natural alliances to the USE through her family, and while she has no interest in pursuing a policy of conflict with Essen, a close alliance with those who killed her first husband would offend everybody—including herself. She might still find it necessary to join the USE, but would like to make it clear, that such would not be her first choise.”
Only because Melchior was watching Don Fernando so closely, did he spot the glint of amusement in the man eyes. Apparently the increasingly erratic behavior of the late Duke Wolfgang had been a source of worry for his western neighbor, but since the duke had been related by blood or marriage to just about every aristocratic family in Europe, appearances had to be maintained—and especially against a merchant upstart like De Geer. Nil nisi bene.
“The patchwork of interests and alliances to the south must be dealt with if this region is to take advantage of all the new possibilities,” Melchior continued, “but that can wait for a later occasion. This leaves my wife and I with our relations to the Low Countries, and thus the possibility of some kind of alliance with you. We would of course have preferred a more orderly occasion for discussing the possible arrangements, but we believe that there is still time to limit the damage. We also believe that such an arrangement would be vastly preferable to you compared with having my wife join the USE before you can finish your campaign here in Jülich.”
Don Fernando gave a small nod. “A liege oath from your wife to me? I have no wish to poach on my cousin’s territory by asking one of you.” That Don Fernando was now unbending enough to actually make a suggestion was a most promising sign.
“That could be a possibility, but could also cost my wife dearly in terms of support from her family, who are very strongly in favor of having Jülich join the USE. What we had in mind was something with a slightly more modern twist. Are you familiar with the works of Grotius, and the concept of a buffer state?”
“Certainly.” Don Fernando unbent as far as to give a real smile. “And you are quite right in assuming that I would prefer such an arrangement. The actual contract must involve lawyers to get all the pesky little details in place, but your word on good intentions would be enough for me to end hostilities and withdraw my companies from this side of the Meuse.” He’s smile turned wry. “I would—naturally—like to expand my territory to gain as much of the Rhine as possible, and Archbishop Ferdinand’s latest troubles have left the prize of Cologne dangling in the air, as bait for many schemes and dreams. But I myself would engage the USE in open hostility only as a last resort, and I prode myself too much of my good sense to expect you to be any different.”
“My freely given word on good intentions, and our sincere wish for peaceful relations and cooperations.” Melchior smiled back and nodded.
“Yes, and speaking of cooperations: I would like to make a suggestion concerning the rather problematic southern area.” Don Fernando now smiled a little broader. “I’ve been negotiating with the two largest interests involved in the Eifel area. They have been dragging their feet, and wasting my time with political maneuverings. The governor of Luxemburg and the administrator of the Province of the Upper Rhine are both coming to Aachen in a couple of weeks, and I would like to invite you to join us there.”
“Ah! And the two of us coming to that meeting together, and with our combined armies behind us, should ensure the speediest possible conclusion to any negotiations.” Melchior kept smiling, but also gave a small shrug. “My wife and I have no territorial aspirations in that direction, but we are most interested in stable government and trading opportunities. I shall be deligh
ted to accompany you to Aachen.”
Chapter 39
Bamberg, Geyerswoerth Palace, SoTF administration election office
February 25, 1635
“Hi Sister Sister, I’m so sorry I’m late.” Terrie rushed into the office, and embraced the young woman in a brown nun’s habit standing at the tall lectern desk.
“We have time,” Sister Tabitha answered. “Sister Evangelina had problems with the Bavarian yeast she brought with her, so rather than starting right after Vesper, the meeting will start an hour later.”
“Ah! But I have newer news. Mother wants us both go by Frau Anna Eberhart’s house and escort her to the meeting.”
“Frau Eberhart?”
“Yes, she is one of the finest Rauchbier brewers in Bamberg, but after her sister Maria mysteriously disappeared a few months ago, she has been very nervous, and has refused to go out after dark. Mother talked her into coming to the Women’s Institute’s Brewer Evening by promising to send her own daughters to escort her.”
“I know American women are supposed to be fine fighters, but why would two young girls make her feel any safer?” Sister Tabitha smiled fondly at her new friend, who seemed determined to turn her into a sister as well as a Sister.
“I am carrying the new gun my father gave me for Christmas, but her husband is sending an apprentice along for brawn. Your holiness and my American ingenuity are supposed to deal with anything else. Abracadabra.” Terrie waved her hands around. “She lives up by the Cathedral so we better get going. Have you banked the fire?”
“Yes, I’ll just grab my cloak and blow out the candles.”
Outside the palace the fog was rolling thick and wooly along the river, and the streets were slippery with wet snow. Only the nearest houses were visible, but the bells of the invisible churches were tolling, and a man selling hot pretzels could be heard somewhere in the nearby streets. As the two young women started walking up the hill from the river the bells stopped to signal the start of the evening service and Sister Tabitha took out her rosary and starting whispering her prayers as she walked. Terrie walked in silence until the rosary was put away.
“How did you decide to become a nun?” Terrie asked.
“I just never considered anything else.” Sister Tabitha slipped a little on the frozen cobbles and Terrie grabbed her arm. “I overheard your father mention that you’ve not yet settled on a profession, or decided what you want to do after graduation.”
“That’s right. Most people—even in Grantville—do what their parents did. Father wants me doing some kind of administration, but laws bore me silly. Mother thinks I should study medicine or nursing, and I do like both chemistry and biology, but I just don’t want to spend my time with sick people. I suppose you think I’m shallow?”
“No, I’ve never been interested in nursing either.”
“It must be easier when you have a vocation. I know you’re only twenty, so you must have known what you wanted from you were very young.” Now it was Terrie’s turn to slip a little.
“That’s not quite how it was. In fact I’m really just doing the normal thing and following my mother’s profession.” Sister Tabitha smiled at Terrie, who had stopped and looked up at her in amazement. “My mother was raped, when her convent in Hungaria was sacked. She fostered me with the owner of a nearby vineyard, so she could visit me. Once I was old enough to become a postulate, I just went to live with her, and moved to Bavaria when she did. She died of the pox shortly after we moved. The whole convent fell ill, and many died. Those of us who survived with only a few scars”—she pointed at the group of small scars on her cheek—“had to gather all our resources to keep the convent going. I had been just about ready to take my first vows, but ended up running the wine making and selling. I’m still more than a year from taking my final vows.”
“I see.” Terrie walked on in silence until they stopped outside the Eberhart brewery. “Have you ever wanted to own your own vineyards?”
“No, not really. What I would like the most would be to work directly with the plants. Breed new and better varieties. Frau Kacere has kindly helped me find some books from your homeland. They are very interesting, and I would like to have more time to study them.” She smiled. “Perhaps someday. I like it here.” She looked back down the cobbled street to the river hazy with mist. “Father Arnoldi was bad, but there are good people here opposing him, and those who support him.”
“Yes, and we want you here.” Terrie reached for the knocker on the wooden gate. “Wine. I think I’ll talk to mother about arranging an evening about wine like this one about brewing.”
Sister Tabitha shook her head. “Wine-making is a man’s profession, while brewing is mostly done within the household and thus a woman’s task. It would be considered odd.”
“Good.”
Mainz, Church of St. Alban
To Franz von Hatzfeldt, Prince-Bishop of Würzburg
From Johann Philipp von Schönborn
My dearest Franz
Due to the recent upheaval I hear is taking place around Cologne, I am directing this letter to your brother in Mainz, asking him to forward it to you, wherever the Lord has seen fit to lead you. I hope this finds you in good health and prosperous circumstances, and look forward to the day when we shall meet again. In case you feel the time for our return to your bishopric draws near, I believe, that you should grant me my wish, as I am afraid there are some problems in Würzburg, and it might be to your benefit to first come to me here in Bamberg. Recent unfortunate circumstances have made it seem appropriate for me to relocate to Bamberg, but these I believe would be best told to you in person.
It pains me to talk about rivals or competitors within Our Holy Mother Church, but as you know Father Arnoldi felt that he should have been Ehrenberg’s successor in Würzburg, and he has slowly been building up support for himself during your exile, both in secular circles and within the Church. He cannot dispose you, and I do not know of him to be plotting your demise, but in order to save yourself unnecessary struggles my advice to you is to come directly here to join me in Bamberg.
The new USE administration is making Bamberg its centre for the entire province, and I believe things would go far more smoothly if you met the Americans here in person. I do not agree with all their ideas—far from—but regardless of their secular views concerning church property and taxes, they are also very firmly opposed to any kind of witch-hunt, and that is what Father Arnoldi seems to be trying to stir up again.
Herr Salatto, whom I mentioned to you in the letter containing your safe conduct, is based in Würzburg, while the person in charge of the secular administration here in Bamberg is Herr Vincent Marcantonio. Both are well-meaning men of good hearts, whom I believe would appreciate your talent for administration, and especially all your many contacts in the other major towns of the province and beyond. I am sure you can imagine the herculean task it is to set up an entirely new administrative headquarters, and if you were to approach one or both with an offer to help—rather than making demands on their time and resources—there should at present be the best possible opportunity for establishing a cordial relationship with this new power.
It pains me to admit that I have not been able to prevent the new administration from taking over most of the properties belonging directly to the Prince-Bishops of both Bamberg and Würzburg—alas, I lack the skills of negotiation so prominent in you and your esteemed family—but the vineyards and estates that you acquired before ascending to your present prominence should still be yours, and most of the buildings by the Cathedral are still considered part of the properties of the Church. The new administration’s headquarters is being established in the Geyerswoerth Palace here in Bamberg, and with the aim of improving relations I have taken upon myself to lend as well some clerks as various records to both Herr Marcantonio and Herr Salatto. I beg of you not to consider these actions an act of betrayal. Contrary to the beliefs expressed by Father Arnoldi and his secular associates, I’m qui
te certain that the new structure is stable and will be toppled by neither civil unrest nor nefarious schemes.
I have done my best for you my friend and mentor, and is shamed that it is not more, but to preserve and further the beautiful and prosperous kingdom that you once dreamed, is in you absence far beyond my abilities.
Written by my hand and under my seal on the 1. of January 1635 at the Cathedral of Sct. Peter and Sct. Georg in Bamberg
Yours as ever
Johann Philipp von Schönborn
Franz put down the letter and looked at his friend breathing slowly in the bed beside his chair. Franz Wilhelm’s stomach had taken a turn for the worse the day before they had arranged to leave, and despite the careful nursing he had received, the illness showed no signs of abating.
“What’s in the letter?” Franz Wilhelm’s voice was little more than a whisper.
“It’s from Schönborn. He’s getting along quite well with the Americans.”
“Please read it for me.”
Franz hesitated. Without Franz Wilhelm’s help with getting free of Archbishop Ferdinand’s schemes, he would still be stuck in that god-forsaken camp—or worse.
“Please, my friend.” Franz Wilhelm moved his head on the pillow to look at Franz. “It’s my body that’s deteriorating, not my head.”
Franz read the letter out loud.
“As I thought.” Franz Wilhelm shifted his body a little. “You have to go as soon as in any way possible. Coming from Schönborn that letter is a shout for help.”
“Yes, I know. But I also cannot abandon you after all the help that you have given me.”
“You would be wasting that help if you stayed. And besides: my illness has delayed both of us, Franz, and I no longer think I can afford the time a detour to Bamberg would cost me. Hesse’s campaign has come to an end, and I want to be in Minden before he turns his attention northward. Minden might not have been included in the province of Hesse-Kassel, but according to the rumors your brother Herman brought from Frankfurt, Hesse had orders via radio from Magdeburg to stop bombarding Cologne, but didn’t stop. I need to get there in person, Franz. I’ll write my people, and have them come here to escort me north. Carrying me if need be.” Franz Wilhelm’s voice now sounded stronger.
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