1635:The Dreeson Incident (assiti shards)

by Eric Flint

  Speaking of Wes, him and his second wife are going to have a baby. Chandra says that it's caused a fair amount of excitement in Grantville.

  Best wishes,

  Nathan Prickett

  Grantville, late January 1635

  Under the circumstances, Wes found it a little embarrassing that he was still chairing the initiative in regard to uniform statewide matrimonial legislation.

  Solving the problems by simply declaring separation of church and state wasn't as simple as a person might think. Take the problems of Jarvis Beasley's wife Hedy, for instance. Even if down-time betrothal contracts were handled procedurally in the church courts, they still were included in the civil laws of the various territories as well. Even in the unlikely event that Saxony abolished its state church, its civil laws of marriage would still be in force in those Henneberg territories south of the Thuringerwald.

  Until Gustavus Adolphus managed to do something definitive about John George, at least.

  Unless the SoTF congress simply got rid of any variant marriage laws below the level of the province as a whole? Passed a law saying that this was a state-level matter and no longer the concern of the individual territories that had coalesced to create the SoTF?

  Wes had never considered himself a radical. A conservative, rather. In no way a revolutionary. A caretaker. That was, in a way, why he had been interested in parks and such, originally. Once upon a time. Up-time.

  But there were times when the thought of abolishing the whole diddly-squat mess and starting over, the way Gustavus had done with the new USE provinces in western Germany the previous June, was very appealing. Times like this one. Put the whole USE on a grid. Make it look like Kansas.

  He shook his head. No. When you came right down to it, he was an old West Virginia boy. Hills and hollows, curves and bends. He'd lived with them all his life, geographical or jurisdictional. He'd figure something out.

  Frankfurt

  Nathan Prickett looked at the letter from his mother again.

  You know, she had written, I think that I caused a lot of trouble without ever meaning to.

  She explained the tour of Vital Statistics that she had given to Jacques-Pierre Dumais.

  Everyone knows that's he's a friend of Veda Mae Haggerty, so I think that's the only way it could have gotten out. All the gossip seems to have started with her. But Jenny was so mad that I don't dare tell her. I don't know what I ought to do about it.

  Nathan had a feeling that he knew what he ought to do about it. Had to do about it, really.

  Dear Don Francisco.

  I'm enclosing a letter that I got from my mom.

  He finished up.

  If you can think of some way to handle this without getting Mom fired from her job, I'd really appreciate it. Jenny Maddox will fire her if she finds out, but all Mom meant to do was show him how the system works and raising a stink about Chandra's dad's second marriage doesn't count as international sabotage or a plot against the USE, if you ask me.

  Wes was mad as hell, from what Chandra wrote me, but they are public records. There's nothing Top Secret about a marriage license.

  You might want to keep a closer eye on this Dumais character, though.

  Thanks a lot.

  Nathan Prickett.

  Chapter 39

  Frankfurt am Main

  "You might as well leave now, Fortunat."

  Deneau raised his eyebrows. "Go where?"

  "To Thuringia, of course. You, Gui, and Weitz, now that Boucher and Turpin have arrived from La Rochelle. Weitz has already contacted like-minded individuals in various Franconian and Thuringian towns. In fact, it is likely that the industrial towns on the south slope of the Thuringerwald will provide more people willing to take action against the Grantville synagogue than you will find in Thuringia. Certainly more people who will be qualified to find temporary work in Grantville than rural villages will.

  "In any case, do not let any of the locals know that there is a Huguenot connection. Weitz and his associates are to do the recruitment. They are to be told of it in connection with the men in Frankfurt who were frustrated last fall. Assure, them, of course-have Weitz assure them, that is-that there is plenty of money available to back a major riot. They will expect recompense for the time they miss from work. Everyone has expenses, and many of them will have families to support.

  "If Weitz is doing all the work, why are the rest of us going?"

  "To ensure that he does the work that we want him to do. In the way we want him to do it. On the schedule we have laid out."

  "Four supervisors to one laborer seems somewhat excessive," Brillard commented.

  "There will be work for Fortunat and Gui when it comes closer to the day. Someone must draw up the charts that design who, holding what weapon, will stand where, in the market square."

  Ancelin frowned, once more pulling out his map of the Croat raid. "There is no market square. Not even a market, as far as I can figure out." He spread it on the table. "See, we have gone over it before. The synagogue is one house over from a corner building. It fronts on a street, not a square. The bridges are nearby, but not immediately in front of it."

  "I am getting very tired of that map," Brillard said.

  "Memorize it," Locquifier advised him. The day is coming when you will need to have the layout very clear in your mind."

  "Very well."

  "And do not worry about four supervisors. Fortunat will find out for himself very soon that neither Boucher nor Turpin could supervise a small child taking a bath, much less a complex undertaking."

  "Small children in baths are very slippery. My sister has three of them, so I have some reason to know."

  "What we are planning is very slippery, as well. You are preparing for your own part?"

  "I spend some time every day at the shooting range. The owner knows me as one Matthias Bruller, from Alsace. A partisan, he suspects, for Bernhard of Saxe-Weimar." He smiled. "It was Michel's mention of Charles Mademann that gave me the idea to choose that particular pseudonym. Alsace is such a convenient place, the way French and Germans, Catholics and Protestants, intermingle."

  "A job well done," Soubise said. "Thank you, Sandrart."

  Joachim Sandrart bowed.

  "A loose end. Perhaps not a crucial one. But it was d'Avaux who took Ducos to Italy, d'Avaux who did not control the man once he was there. Ultimately, therefore, d'Avaux who can be considered responsible for the entire Galileo debacle.

  "It is amusing, in a way, that Mazarin arranged to send d'Avaux to Brittany. Of course, he is Italian. Perhaps, it did not immediately spring to his mind that the Rohan family does not lack influence there." Soubise drummed his fingers on the table. "My sister-in-law will see to it, then, that the count's tenure in his new position is unpleasant? More unpleasant than even Mazarin intended that it should be?"

  "A more appropriate choice of word might be 'miserable.' 'Wretched,' even. A view in which your sister, Mademoiselle Anne, seemed to concur."

  "Then, Joachim, we may rest easy that d'Avaux' life, henceforth, will be a lamentable experience. Even in the unlikely event that he should elude the watchers placed on him by the… newly naturalized cardinal."

  "Your sister seemed quite enthusiastic about planning measures to ensure it."

  Sandrart paused, then continued.

  "It is a pity that Mademoiselle Anne was unable to marry. The travails of your family after the death of Henri IV prevented your mother from arranging a suitable match, I presume. She would have brought forth redoubtable sons."

  "Anne does not perceive it as a misfortune. Aside from Catherine, may God rest her soul, my sisters chose not to marry. A choice more easily achieved, for a noblewoman, when, as in the case of our family, her father is long since dead by the time she reaches marriageable age. Henriette died ten years ago. She was a quite special friend of Catherine de Mayenne, the duchess of Nevers-Carlo Gonzaga's wife, in Mantua. They exchanged verses. When Catherine died in 1618, Henriette was
devastated. Her spirits never recovered."

  "Ah." Sandrart nodded his head.

  "And you met Anne."

  Sandrart inclined his head again. "She is quite impressive. Very learned."

  "A remarkable woman. With my late mother, she was the soul of La Rochelle's resistance during the siege in 1627, the one marked by Buckingham's disaster on Ile de Re." Soubise turned his head. "You know la Gentileschi, do you not? You were traveling with her from Rome?"

  "Assuredly."

  "My mother as a young woman, scarcely twenty years of age, wrote a play which was performed at La Rochelle. Judith et Holopherne. I believe that Gentileschi has painted this theme?"

  "Several times."

  "Obtain one for me, if you would be so kind. If she has none available that she has painted as a studio project, commission a new one. Oil on canvas. Talk to my steward about costs." Soubise rose from his chair.

  Missy's uncle Wes might think Ron was getting to be a pain. However, he supposed this might count as something consular. Approximately. Vaguely. At least, this time he was at the office and he'd phoned ahead for an appointment.

  "I got a letter from Joachim Sandrart."

  At least Mr. Jenkins' face looked encouraging.

  "He's an artist who traveled with us from Padua to Frankfurt. He came up from Rome with Signora Gentileschi, Prudentia's mom. Jabe McDougal's girlfriend. Have you met her? Either one of them?"

  Don't rattle on, he told himself. He'll think you're nervous. Just because you are nervous doesn't mean that he needs to know it.

  "Joachim's working for Soubise, now, in Frankfurt. He just got back from a trip to France. But that's not exactly why I thought I should bring you the letter to read."

  He reached into his pocket, pulled the letter out, and dropped it on the desk.

  "He mentioned that Soubise's brother, the duke of Rohan, who is a very important man among the Huguenots, has left Switzerland and gone to Besancon. That's where Bernhard of Saxe-Weimar is setting up his new capital."

  "So?"

  "In October, on our way back from Italy, we stopped to see the duke. It was Joachim's idea," Ron inserted defensively, "not mine. Honest."

  "I believe you."

  "It's not been in any of the papers, the Besancon business, I mean. I read at least three different papers every morning, from beginning to end. Because of Dad's business. I pretty well have to. We ship internationally, of course, and there are so many variables. I start with the Street and then the Times and then whatever's the most recent one from Magdeburg that's been delivered to the office. Plus my secretary skims a bunch of others and makes me news clips."

  Which actually embarrassed him. Both having a secretary and reading news clips. Frank was running a dive in a slum in Rome and Ron was sitting out at Lothlorien like some Wall Street penguin-type reading news clips, so he could make a reasonable decision on whether some offer that had come in was legit or not.

  Not that his secretary was a bad guy. Actually, he was pretty efficient, considering that he was only a couple of years older than Ron. Muselius over at Countess Kate's had recommended Barthold Orban for the job, once it had dawned on Ron that he needed a secretary and mentioned to Jonas that the last thing he needed in the outer office was some guy with a lot of experience who would try to take over because Ron had hardly any.

  "Anyway, when we stopped in Switzerland, the duke spent a whole evening talking to me, and gave me a couple of books he's written. I've read them. A little hard-hearted, maybe, but…"

  He stopped.

  "Uh. Could you just read the letter, before we go any further."

  Wes' first thought was: way above my pay grade.

  "May I make a copy of this? I think I'll have to ask a few other people before I can give you an answer and I'd like to have one to refer to."

  "Sure. Keep the original, if you want. I'll do fine with a copy. I can wait outside." Ron tilted his head at the door that led to the Bureau of Consular Affairs waiting room. "Or come back later this afternoon, before I go back to Lothlorien, to pick it up."

  Wes looked at the letter again. "I don't want anyone else looking at this. If you have time, you can go back there"-he tilted his head at the back door of his office, which led into a file room-"and write the copy out there. If you would be so kind."

  "Yeah. Sure." Ron stood up.

  Wes, still sitting, looked up at the boy. Young man.

  "Is there any other business that might possibly have brought you to the Bureau of Consular Affairs this afternoon? Something I can reasonably call Martina or Lucia in and ask her to take care of? To account for your visit? Something that's preferably reasonably complicated?"

  Ron frowned. "You know, I really don't like to ask for special favors. But we have this guy out at the plant who comes from someplace up in the Baltic. He landed here because he was in the Swedish army, the Yellow Regiment that was stationed here under Kagg in 1633, but his sister was married to a Pole…"

  "Sit down again, why don't you?" Wes started taking notes.

  "… and even though he's a Swedish citizen, he'd be willing to be naturalized here if that would help get his sister's kids out of the clutches of their wicked uncle on the other side of the family. Does the SoTF have a consular agent in Danzig?" That was where Ron reached a stopping point. Fifteen minutes later.

  Wes asked, "Why hadn't you brought this up with me before?"

  "Well, I really don't like to ask for special favors."

  Magdeburg

  Ed Piazza thought it was probably beyond his pay grade, too. He bucked it on to Magdeburg.

  Where it ended up in a conference.

  "The letter makes it quite clear, I think," Francisco Nasi said. "The duke of Rohan is not interested in corresponding with anyone in an official position in the USE government. Or in the Swedish government. Or in the SoTF government. He merely wishes to pursue an amicable exchange of opinions with a young man in whom he takes a friendly interest."

  Hermann of Hesse-Rotenburg nodded. "Plausible deniability." He paused. "Additionally, Rohan may not feel that he can rely on having his letters treated with full confidentiality by the next administration… It could be a delicate position for him, if Wettin wins. He is, after all, Duke Bernhard's older brother."

  Nasi nodded. "No risk of offending anyone in an official position by breaking off communication at that point."

  "If Jenkins thinks Stone can do it…" Arnold Bellamy's voice trailed off.

  "He wouldn't have forwarded the idea, if he didn't," Frank Jackson said. "Not that the thought of one of Tom Stone's boys conducting delicate diplomatic negotiations with a French ex-rebel doesn't practically make me fall flat on my face."

  Bellamy nodded. "Then we'll need a regular liaison. Someone… inconspicuous."

  Cory Joe Lang made a discreet coughing noise. As usual, the young intelligence officer was sitting somewhat to the rear, making himself inconspicuous.

  "Yes?" Hermann cocked his head.

  "If I have understood what you and Don Francisco have been saying, our network. is trying to establish an inconspicuous connection, by way of Stone, to the duke of Rohan. And, indirectly, to Bernhard of Saxe-Weimar."

  "That does seem to be the point." Don Francisco took off his spectacles and started to clean them. The action served to control any impulse to smile. Also as usual, Cory Joe was proving to be an excellent assistant. For all the world, the young man seemed to be wrestling with a brand new idea-as if he hadn't already, many weeks since, started working on this very problem.

  "If the two of you are willing, I could do it. After all, I see Ron every time I'm in Grantville anyway."

  Arnold Bellamy leaned back in his chair. "You do? If you don't mind my asking, why?"

  "Pam Hardesty, my half-sister, is working at the state library. Through that she's friends with Missy Jenkins, who's about three years younger than her. So through that, I see Ron every time I'm in Grantville."

  It was pretty clear that the co
nnection was not computing.

  "Missy and Ron are a couple. Not exactly official. Yet. But trust me. They are."

  "I remember them," Jackson protested. "They're just kids."

  "They're both nineteen, Sir. They had birthdays just before Christmas." Cory Joe grinned. "They have birthdays just before Christmas every year, Sir."

  The general glared the ordinary adult level of indignation at kids who managed to grow up, apparently in an instant, while a person's attention had been focused elsewhere.

  "It's a natural tie," Don Francisco commented. "Already friends. Already established, so not obvious."

  Hesse-Rotenburg nodded. "It would certainly be far less conspicuous than for Stone to be reporting to one of the SoTF administrative offices regularly."

  Cory Joe shrugged. "Not really, Sir. Ron is normally in and out of the administration building two or three times a week. After all, he's managing the local end of the Farbenwerke. His normal business tends to take him into the various corners of economic resources quite a bit. Talking to people like Noelle Stull and Eddie Junker."

  Again, Don Francisco had to suppress a smile. He had found it convenient to bestow those portions of his Grantville operations that weren't precisely police business in among the accountants and auditors, who always had a legitimate reason to be nosy. "Speaking of Noelle, while she is on my mind, do you know a young woman named Denise Beasley? She wrote me a letter, recently."

  Cory Joe nodded. "Buster Beasley's kid. Friend of Ron's brother Gerry. She's a pip, that one. Even if she is just sixteen."

  "I am, I suppose, delighted to hear it." Don Francisco loved ties of blood. The interconnections among the Grantvillers had turned out to be so charmingly intricate as he came to be familiar with them. "When," he asked hopefully, "is this coupledom-if there is such a word in English-likely to become official?"

  Cory Joe paused for a moment, assessing the problem. Then: "I don't think it's a sometime thing, even though they may not be sure of that themselves yet. They've done Thanksgiving dinner at Missy's grandma's house. They've done Christmas dinner at Missy's house. You already know about New Year's Eve, because Ron and I both reported on LaChapelle from our own perspectives, independently. Ron's come face to face with Vera Hudson and survived the experience. According to my sister Pam, Missy has set up a pretty effective defensive perimeter, so to speak, so things aren't likely to slide for very long."