by Eric Flint
It was fairly easy, most of the time, to guess which of the people in the street were residents of Munich and which were visitors. Munich women wore hats with high crowns and the ubiquitous aprons, many of them colored. The men wore the same style of hat.
Duke Maximilian's officials attempted to enforce the 1626 sumptuary ordinance regulating "unnecessary and superfluous costliness" in the clothing worn by his subjects, the Kleiderordnung, quite strictly in this, his capital city. Woe to the farmer who had his wife's shoes sewn on a last or the ordinary workman who expended his money on a pair of knit stockings with satin garters! The ordinance divided the duke's subjects into classes and prescribed the acceptable clothing for each, the man and his family alike: farmers, day laborers, menial civil servants, and common soldiers; ordinary citizens of a town and artisans; merchants and civil servants of higher rank, such as court clerks; patrician families in the cities; knights and the lower nobility; lawyers and university professors; counts and barons.
Leopold's factor in Neuburg had a copy of the pamphlet. He and Marc were wearing clothing entirely suitable for a merchant of modest means and his son, without satin trimming. The lace on their collars was carefully narrower than a joint on the middle finger, but not in the Munich local style. They were, after all, here as foreign tourists.
"If Duke Maximilian had been born English," Leopold commented softly, "he would have made an excellent Puritan. I have read a commentary by a visitor from Holland, written already twenty-five years ago, in which he stated that the members of the duke's court were 'all temperate, strict in morals and upright; every vice is banned at this court; the prince hates drunkards, rascals, and idlers; everything is directed to virtue, temperance, and piety.' It is a pity, in a way, that he is Catholic. He would make a much better Calvinist than the late Stadtholder Maurice of Nassau ever did." More loudly, he commented, "Tomorrow is Thursday. We should be sure to observe the weekly religious procession of all the court officials."
They didn't go all the way to the Isar Gate. Rather, after viewing the city hall, they turned north. Much of the northern portion of the city was taken up by the Residenz and the pleasure garden associated with it. They stopped and looked at the more-than-life-sized statue of the Virgin Mary that had been installed in a niche on the facade of the Residenz in 1616.
They stood quietly. Any observer would have assumed, respectfully as well, although nothing could have been more alien to Genevan Calvinists. Mary crowned as Mother of God, standing on the sickle of the new moon, a scepter in her left hand, the Christ Child held on her right arm. The child raised his hand as if to bless everyone who entered the city from the nearby Schwäbinger gate. A perpetual flame burned beneath the image.
There was a Latin inscription: Sub tuum praesidium confugimus, sub quo secure laetique degimus. Leopold told Marc to translate. There was never any point to getting out of practice with a language once one had gone to the trouble of learning it.
Marc looked at it again and said, a little hesitantly, "'We flee to your protection' or, maybe better, 'we place ourselves under your guidance. That's the first half. Then, 'beneath which we live safely and happily' or, maybe, 'beneath which we exist securely and joyfully'. Then, at the bottom, 'Patrona Boiariae'. That's 'patroness of Bavaria.'"
"Not bad. It seems as though your teachers earned their money." Leopold paused, considering the implications of Bavarian Mariology for European politics. "Shall we move on?" They walked as far as the Würtzer Gate, then turned to make a circuit of the inner walls. By the time they finished, Marc was urging that it was time to stop at a streetside grill and get some sausages on buns for lunch. Or something for lunch. He was starving.
* * * *
They spent some time observing the house of the English Ladies on Paradise Street.
"Why," Marc asked, "couldn't we disguise ourselves as delivery men, like those two?" He gestured at the back alley, where Benno and Korbinian were once more in dispute.
"Why?" Leopold asked. "Because at least one of them, I would presume, is a spy for the Inquisition. Which makes it probable that the other one is a spy for someone else. Possibly the duke; possibly some party in the city whose interests do not run entirely parallel to those of the duke. Who? I could not say yet. Possibly the Jesuits have placed an observer to keep an eye on the other people observing the good ladies. In any case, people would notice if the faces of the deliverymen changed, even in a week in which the local world is turned as nearly upside-down as this one."
"Then," Marc asked, "what do we do?"
"I think," Leopold answered, "that tomorrow I should walk up to the front door and ring the doorbell. I should explain that since we were traveling to Munich in any case, we were asked to bring them some letters that had been forwarded from Perugia to Constance."
This was quite true. In a way. The letters had indeed been passing through Constance on their way to Munich at the point when they were subjected to a small detour in the best interests of Cavriani Frères. Also, the letters, if anyone had inspected his luggage and confiscated them at an earlier stage in the trip, were not only genuine, but also quite harmless. The postal clerk had checked.
Chapter 40
Schola Cordis
Munich, Bavaria
"If I do not make friends with Duchess Mechthilde, my position in the Bavarian court will be impossible." Maria Anna looked at Countess Polyxena, barely smothering her annoyance. "Trust me, this is true. I am not sufficiently foolish as to deliberately make an enemy of my sister-in-law."
"But," Polyxena protested, "she is only a landgravine." Polyxena was not the most brilliant of the ladies-in-waiting. She owed her position to her father's influential position and her husband's astonishing wealth rather than to any scintillating intellectual qualities of her own. She was extraordinarily status-conscious.
"I," Maria Anna pointed out, "am only an archduchess of Austria. Which did not prevent my sister-in-law Mariana, who is an infanta of Spain itself, from taking the trouble to become my friend. So I shall model my conduct on Mariana's and do my very best to live in harmony with Mechthilde." Maria Anna's eyes twinkled. "Even though it may be more difficult."
Everyone knew what she meant. Mariana had come to Austria as the bride of the heir; Maria Anna had been brought to Bavaria to bear a child who would displace the current heir. Who was Mechthilde's husband. And to displace her sons in the succession. It would be harder.
Maria Anna looked at Polyxena, a little sadly. "The difficulty does not mean that I will not try. Don't be a fool. She is older than I; she has had years of experience in this court."
* * * *
"Naturally," Freiherrin Lukretia wrote to her husband, "the attitude of the archduchess is greatly to be commended for its charity and generosity of spirit. I consider it to be, however, somewhat impractical. There is no reason for her to anticipate anything but continued enmity from Duchess Mechthilde. Nor do I myself see any reason why Duchess Mechthilde should feel any other sentiment towards her."
* * * *
Impractical it might be. Nonetheless, Maria Anna continued to grant Duchess Mechthilde the precedence due to Bavaria's first lady—which she was, of course, and would be until Maria Anna's wedding had been blessed and successfully consummated. Maria Anna sent her an invitation to come to her apartments in the Residenz for a private viewing of the Golden Rose.
Mechthilde accepted. As she said frankly to Duke Albrecht, "I can't very well not, without appearing hopelessly ungracious and boorish. Which, given the tense conditions at court right now, we cannot afford."
* * * *
To her own surprise, Mechthilde found that while she could not bring herself to speak with the archduchess on any basis but that of strict courtesy as demanded by the protocol of the court, she did enjoy the acquaintance of Doña Mencia de Mendoza. They had several very pleasant conversations following that first visit.
It was the third conversation before Doña Mencia subtly sounded Mechthilde out about her mot
ives for bringing the witchcraft charges against Frau Simpson and Frau Dreeson. From Duchess Mechthilde's response, which was oblique and unspecific, Doña Mencia picked up an underlying sense that she was primarily concerned about the position of her sons. The charges seemed to be a ploy on her part to try to get rid of what she perceived as a threat to her, and through her to them—a threat that the bargemen had created by tying the abduction of the two women to Leuchtenberg. Mechthilde reiterated to Doña Mencia that she was convinced that her brother had nothing to do with the kidnapping, was pretty sure that neither of his sons did, and was damned well sure that she herself didn't.
Doña Mencia also picked up hints that Duchess Mechthilde would not be at all sorry to see the two women mysteriously disappear from Bavaria, which would make an end to the immediate problem. These hints led naturally to Mechthilde's mention that she had been, temporarily, serving as patroness of the English Ladies, where Mary and Veronica were staying, since Duchess Elisabeth Renata's death. She asked whether is would be the archduchess' pleasure that she continue to do this, or whether, since it was generally known that the empress took an interest in the Ladies' schools for girls, Maria Anna would prefer to assume this role when she became duchess.
Doña Mencia and Duchess Mechthilde conducted an extensive and mutually beneficial exchange of opinions, as diplomats tended to put it.
Potentially, a mutually profitable one. Immediately, however, they concluded that it would be appropriate for Maria Anna to call upon the English Ladies and officially assure them that as duchess she would continue to extend the court's protection to them, just as the late Duchess Elisabeth Renata had done.
Incidentally, of course, while she was there, she would be able to converse with Frau Simpson and Frau Dreeson, who were, after all, still members of her household.
* * * *
Maria Anna had not planned on doing it. Spontaneously, during her formal visit to the house on Paradise Street, she invited Mary Ward and the English Ladies to come to the Residenz for a private viewing of the Golden Rose.
Their charges, naturally enough, were not free to come. Doña Mencia volunteered to remain with Mary and Veronica during the visit.
Duke Maximilian, upon hearing of this occurrence after the fact, requested the Hofmeister to inform Archduchess Maria Anna of his strong preference that the family apartments not be opened to outside visitors. The members of this order, while they came from Catholic families of good social standing in England, were not of a rank that justified their admission to the future duchess' parlor, much less her bedchamber and oratory.
* * * *
Maria Anna was far from being in the confidence of Uncle Max. She had not had a private conversation with him since arriving in Bavaria. She had not really had a public dialogue with him since the hearing. Still, other people told her things. One of those things was the increasing influence of Dr. Richel in the privy council. Supposedly, which was probably the reason that someone brought the rumors to her attention, he had made statements in regard to Frau Simpson and Frau Dreeson who, although now residing with the English Ladies, were still formally under her protection. Richel continued to urge upon Duke Maximilian the principle that there was no obligation of conscience to keep the faith with heretics.
Father Vervaux had again reminded him that the Dreeson woman was a Catholic. Richel retorted that she was married to a Calvinist whose country was allied with the Lutheran Swede. Second, he added, since the conversion of the Upper Palatinate in the 1620s had been more or less compulsory, it was entirely possible that she was only a Catholic of convenience and not a Catholic at heart. This would be a situation no different, in essence, from that of the secret Jews and Muslims of Spain, with whom the Most Catholic Monarchs had kept no faith at all. There was, therefore, he concluded with some satisfaction, a precedent.
In less than a week, she would be married to Uncle Max. In the hierarchy of being, he would as her husband be unto her as Christ was to the church; he would be her lord. She would be obliged to bow to his opinions in all things, including the handling of the two women.
She arranged to meet Father Vervaux through Duchess Mechthilde. She told Mechthilde how unhappy she was at not having confessed since leaving Austria; Mechthilde had mentioned that her sons' tutor had performed this office for the late Duchess Elisabeth Renata.
Surely, Maria Anna thought, Uncle Max could not, then, take offense if she requested that Father Vervaux confess her. He was, clearly, qualified to perform this office for a duchess of Bavaria. There could be no anonymity in such a relationship, of course; all her life, she had known who her confessor was, and he had known her. This was standard, in all courts.
It was after confession that she had asked him about the rumor. Uncle Max, she heard, in opening the daily session of his privy council, was omitting the rosary of thanks for the pope's safe deliverance from the assassination attempt. She said that she thought that this report could not be correct. Father Vervaux confirmed that it was.
He also told her that Father Contzen had come down with a serious gallstone attack, sufficiently debilitating that he was not, for the time being, able to participate in the privy council discussions or perform his duties as confessor for the duke, who had sent for a temporary replacement.
"Is this confidential," Maria Anna asked, "or will it be generally known who the replacement is?"
"It is no secret," Vervaux answered. "It is Father Forer."
Maria Anna almost gasped, but checked herself. Father Lorenz Forer, S.J. He was a famous controversialist, a protegé of Heinrich von Knoeringen, the Bishop of Augsburg, a bitter, unremitting, and unrelenting opponent of the Lutherans and all other heretics. This choice was not a good omen for peace. The faculty at the University of Dillingen, the institution of higher education in the Diocese of Augsburg, were generally well known for advocacy of refusal to compromise with the heretics and insistence that in no way should toleration for the Calvinists be included in any treaty provisions aimed at ending the war.
After her second confession, Maria Anna asked Vervaux the same question that she had asked Father Lamormaini, about the temporal possessions of the church vs. losing one's soul. Vervaux temporized. Obviously, rulers had a moral obligation to re-Catholicize a region when possible. He talked briefly about his experiences in the Duchy of Saarwerden in 1631. On the other hand, in instances where this was not possible...
Vervaux's voice trailed off.
Maria Anna waited.
"Your Grace, you must realize that what I am going to say next is my opinion. There are many, even within my own order, who do not share it."
"Granted, Father Vervaux."
"If it is necessary, in order to bring peace to the empire, I do believe that the emperor and the church should agree to the unconditional transfer of former one-time Catholic dioceses and abbeys to the Protestant territories that already are in effective possession of them. I believe, that in the interests of peace, the Edict of Restitution should be revoked."
"And the Calvinists?"
"There is no possibility for peace if they are not included within the provisions of the Peace of Augsburg."
* * * *
The seamstress removed the heavy, formal, court costume. All sixty pounds of it, leaving the archduchess in her shift.
"Frau Stecher," Maria Anna said.
"Yes, Your Highness."
"I am extraordinarily tired. Since you say that you are entirely finished with all the last-minute work for the dress I will be wearing to dinner, complete the fittings for my ladies-in-waiting somewhere other than my private apartments. Go. All of you. Find some other place. Doña Mencia will remain with me until it is time to dress. I must get some rest."
Dinner, at the Bavarian court, took place strictly and regularly at mid-day. At mid-day in July, Munich could be very hot. Today, it was.
Frau Stecher looked profoundly offended, but was not in a position to defy a direct order. "Yes, Your Grace." Then, "Susanna, if
anyone is using the empty room in the next corridor, tell them that I have need of it." She gathered up her notions and her apprentices, backing out of the room after the young noblewomen as Doña Mencia brought Maria Anna a loose, lightweight, robe.
Maria Anna sighed with profound relief. This was the first time since entering Bavaria that she had been alone with Doña Mencia.
* * * *
Doña Mencia was thinking the same thing in reverse. It was the first time she had been alone with the archduchess. For the past weeks, private conversation had been almost impossible. Perhaps it was just the unavoidable crowding when traveling, perhaps the strict protocol of the Bavarian court. She suspected, however, that Ferdinand II had instructed any of several members of Maria Anna's household to prevent them from being alone with one another. Especially that perpetual and incredibly annoying chatterbox, Countess Polyxena. They couldn't very well throw her out of the room. The Holy Roman Emperor, perpetually strapped for cash, owed her husband too much money.
She had to start the conversation immediately. She had a lot to say and it was far from impossible that one of the other ladies-in-waiting would return as soon as her fitting was completed rather than staying to gossip and giggle with the rest. Start it some way.
Doña Mencia drew a breath. "I have received a reply to your question, Your Grace."
"Which question?"
"The one that you had me send to my brother, Cardinal Bedmar."
"Please be so kind as to share it with me."
Doña Mencia pulled the letter from her pocket. "You are welcome to read it all."
"The answer to the question first, please."
