Ring of Fire - 1635_ The Legions of Pestilence

by Virginia DeMarce

  He scratched a note in his own imitable scrawl while Father Bonifacius wrote the names of the donors on his list and then checked the entry off.

  “Fifteen verses and no refrain.” Bernhard produced a grin that sat rather unexpectedly on his usually rather grim face. “That’s what I call a hymn with meat on its bones. I don’t have much patience with the kind where you sing one line and then the choir goes off into six or eight repeats of Alleluia, alleluia, allelu-u-u-u-u-u-i-i-i-a-a-a. How can any author fit doctrinal teaching into that sort of thing?” He meandered out the door, hymnal in hand, still singing. His spurs clanked on the tile flooring as he made his way down the cloister walk, past the rounded arches with their worn Romanesque pillars.

  Claudia looked at the big Benedictine monk who was currently her amanuensis. “My confessor, Father Malaspina, assured me that one of the benefits of this marriage, making it acceptable in the eyes of Mother Church, was the possibility that I might convert my heretical husband to the true faith. He based this hope on the conversion of the grand duke’s former tutor Nihusius by the Jesuits at Cologne.”

  Bonifacius looked at the door rather than at the grand duchess. “We at Schwarzach have been acquainted with Grand Duke Bernhard longer than you have, Your Grace. Your confessor is an Italian Jesuit who does not know him at all. He is reasonable. His original contract with France provided that in the regions where he fought against Gustavus, he would neither prohibit the exercise of Catholic worship nor confiscate church property. Since establishing an independent county, he has continued to adhere to this––as you will note, he has not confiscated the Abbey of Schwarzach from us, although he is making rather free use of our buildings. But barring direct divine intervention, there is no more likelihood that he will be budged from his attachment to the Lutheran teachings than that the earth will end tomorrow. Of the two, the latter might be slightly more probable.”

  She smiled. “I was beginning to suspect as much already. So, I guess, I can scratch one item off my ‘to do’ list altogether.”

  She looked out at the now-empty walkway. “I suspect that the introduction of opera into the court of the County of Burgundy has just dropped to the bottom of my priority list as well. Do you suppose he would enjoy equestrian ballet?”

  Brussels

  “Unfortunately,” Fernando said, “the message that was just dropped off for me says that Monsieur Gaston is no longer in our hands. He was here for the birth. I had every intention of putting him in stronger constraints than a very loose and polite house arrest once that was done with. However, he has slipped through my noose, along with Clicquot and Marchéville, and is, apparently, now out of the Low Countries.”

  “Treachery?” Maria Anna asked.

  “Undoubtedly. With all three of them gone, it can’t possibly have happened by accident. I suspect involvement on the part of his mother, although what she could have accomplished from Savoy, other than providing funds to someone else...”

  “The Lorrainers? Treachery there?”

  “Possibly. Henriette is...still gone. Presumably with Puylaurens. I have placed the duke under a polite house arrest. I hate to do it to Nicolas and Claude, though. They seem to be conscientious. Honest, dutiful, and reasonably hard-working.

  “All things considered, the best tilt I can put on it,” Isabella Clara Eugenia said, “is that at least Gaston’s wife and daughter are in Habsburg hands, here in Brussels. That is a considerable improvement, from our perspective, than having them in the hands of Louis XIII and Richelieu. Make sure that you keep them.”

  “How are things progressing in regard to Cologne?” Isabella Clara Eugenia asked.

  Fernando went into official mode. “We will extend Our formal protection to the left-bank territories next week, thus ensuring that a largely Catholic population will be protected from the annexation efforts of the Calvinist Hessians who have been acting, ostensibly, on behalf of the USE. Unfortunately, Our efforts to come to an amicable arrangement with Archbishop Ferdinand and arrange a comfortable retirement for him during his severe illness and impending old age have not been welcomed in the manner We would have wished. However,...”

  He stopped and smiled.

  “The occupation is complete. I’ll make the announcement at Euskirchen.”

  Maria Anna sighed. “Too bad that Cologne itself and its hinterland made it into the USE as a city state before the Low Countries could get there.”

  “Some days, chicken,” Isabella Clara Eugenia said. “Some days, feathers.”

  She was, after all, an old woman who had earned the right to say what she thought.

  Schwarzach

  Claudia, coming from early mass, paused at the door of the monastery’s old-fashioned Romanesque cathedral.

  Maybe, as a sign of gratitude for their hospitality, she should arrange for these impoverished Benedictines to receive a nice modern altar. A completely redecorated side chapel, perhaps.

  Father Bonifacius was walking a couple of steps behind her.

  She gestured toward the field where the grand duke’s regiments were drawn up. “German is not my best language, and with so many voices, it is hard to make out the words. What are they singing?”

  He listened for a minute. “It’s an old folk tune, one of the grand duke’s favorites. The author of the words was a teacher from Thuringia.” He cleared his throat. “It is the day of the week that the grand duke’s field chaplains review the soldiers’ religious instruction under the unaltered Augsburg Confession. I hear that the grand duke is most particular about the word ‘unaltered.” They are singing,

  Lord, help us ever to retain

  The Catechism’s doctrine plain

  As Luther taught the Word of truth

  In simple style, to tender youth.

  “Oh.” Claudia didn’t move.

  “The grand duke’s chaplain holds morning prayers in front of his tent; evening prayers in front of his tent. He is assiduous in attending Sunday services, though I must say that not all of his colonels are equally dedicated in the matter. While a person does not wish to succumb to curiosity...he has been in residence here for some time.”

  “Did, ah, someone succumb?”

  “We are all fallible. If not, we would scarcely stand in need of divine mercy.”

  “What did, ah, someone, find out?”

  “He reads the Bible. He keeps a catechism, a small prayer book, and Johann Arndt’s True Christianity within easy reach. In many ways, if he had not been reared as a heretic, his temperament would seem to make him an ideal candidate for a military order such as the Knights of Malta or Knights of St. John of Jerusalem. He was, however, reared as a heretic.”

  “Father Bonifacius.”

  “Yes, my child.”

  “I married the grand duke in order, well, mostly in order to retain the revenues from Tyrol’s Swabian territories for my children. Mining rights...”

  He nodded. “Nobody ever doubted it.”

  “Was my decision over-hasty?”

  “Only you can answer that question.” He looked up at a cloud that was floating along through the morning sky. “You may wish to contemplate the question in the light of what our Lord Jesus Christ has to say about putting the things of this world ahead of the kingdom of heaven.”

  He looked down again, out at the field. “I only wish the religious theory could be observed to have more application in practice. Many of these men are quite raw in their daily behavior if anyone thwarts their wishes. Of course, the problem is not unique to the Lutherans. I must be fair. In 1622, after Wimpfen, the Catholic forces also behaved abominably. That was an annus horribilis for the people of this region.”

  ✽ ✽ ✽

  The grand duke of the County of Burgundy finished up the instructions that Michael John and Feret would find waiting the first thing in the morning.

  “I am enclosing several letters of recommendation in regard to promotions for officers who have proved themselves competent. I have made the field promoti
ons myself, but please arrange appropriately showy and multi-colored parchments. For the amount of good will those garner, they are cheap, and the monks at Schwarzach should be able to produce appropriate ones without recourse to the chancery in Besançon. As soon as they are finished, send them by courier. Otherwise...”

  He walked across the room, dropped them on his secretary’s pedestal, and returned to his own.

  “After last month’s direct military expenditures in Lorraine,” Bernhard wrote in a memo to himself, “not to mention the continuing costs associated with the occupation forces We felt obliged to leave there, ....”

  He wasn’t about to send this one to Richelieu. There was no sense in letting one’s technical employer know precisely how close to the edge of bankruptcy one was wavering. Closer than he had been since the year he entered military service at eighteen, when the Kipper und Wipper inflation of 1622 had reduced the buying power of his already tiny income from Saxe-Weimar by half. Hell, he paid each of his colonels per month as much as he drew from Weimar per year.

  There was especially no sense in letting your employer know that you were close to the edge when he owed you a lot of money––that was a very bad bargaining position. The French contract had been a constant irritation since he made it. He should have received a million livres each quarter.

  First the French lawyers fiddled with the schedule and argued that the payments would be due at the end of each three-month period rather than at the beginning, which meant he had been working on credit from the start. Then they argued that garrison troops in important places should not be counted as the part of the number he had agreed to keep “in the field.”

  He had never received the full amount, nor had he ever received a payment on time. They underpaid him, every time. After he withdrew the cavalry from Mainz last year, France had withheld an entire quarterly payout. The resumption was at a sharply reduced rate.

  He added and subtracted some figures. Overall, thus far, he had received not quite half of what was due him. Last quarter, Richelieu sent only three hundred thousand livres. There was the citadel. There was the fortress on the Rhine island, near Solingen, with its bridgeheads. Once that was finished...never again would he find himself without a secured way to cross the winding multiple channels of the Rhine...

  After the events of this March, he was not anticipating the arrival of any more subsidy installments from Paris. None at all.

  He couldn’t share that news with the rest of Der Kloster. He needed every ounce of their confidence in his ability to bring off the firm and permanent establishment of a County of Burgundy.

  John probably guessed, but would not have had time to do the precise calculations.

  Chapter 13 Worth More than Rubies

  Now, though, there was someone with whom he not only could, but should, share such concerns. God himself said that the purpose of a wife was to serve as her husband’s sturdy prop. Didn’t he? He pulled his Bible off the shelf behind him and checked, just to be sure. Yes. “She sets about her work vigorously; her arms are strong for her tasks.” (Proverbs 31:17). Buying fields, planting vineyards. You had to give God credit: sometimes He had really excellent ideas. Bernhard flipped back a few chapters. “He who finds a wife, finds a good thing.” (Proverbs 18:22). People ought to pay more attention to Solomon, considering how wise he was supposed to have been. Hey, “and obtains favor from the Lord.” That was even better. He could use some divine favor right now. If he recalled correctly, there was a bunch of stuff in here about wisdom. He flipped through the pages again and read for a while.

  Then he crossed off “Memo to self” in the header and substituted, “Memorandum to My Lady Wife the grand duchess.”.

  Primo, my lady, there is no point in fighting a battle if your troops are not up to defeating the enemy. Do it only if you are inexorably trapped into it. Otherwise, it is better to wait for reinforcements or even, in dire circumstances, to set up a new army altogether. This basic principle leads me to the realization that there is a battle for which I need reinforcements. To be precise, I need a competent paymaster, preferably yesterday. Find one.

  Secundo, my lady, it is absolutely necessary to establish a reserve army for the County of Burgundy. This is no new idea. Christian of Denmark attempted it in the past, but did not follow through. This has been an ongoing mark of the man’s career throughout. I delegate this to you. Choose a commander in whom you have confidence and proceed with the project.

  Tercio, the regiments were not in as good shape as I could have wished when we had to move out in March. Too many of the men were still in bad condition from the winter. We need to set up permanent winter quarters, not just for the troops who will be garrisoned at the citadel––those are already under construction––but also at every point in the County of Burgundy where we may reasonably expect to assign regiments during the winter months. Have someone project the costs. This may require a meeting of the Estates. Arrange to have one summoned in the autumn as soon as the plague danger abates. Rohan should hire a second publicist, to be based permanently in the capital rather than traveling with me. Have this occur in an expeditious manner.

  Quarto, there is a pressing need for more powder. My negotiations with the various city councils in Lorraine have been unsuccessful. Arrange to expend in Hamburg the remainder of the funds allotted for this from the last subsidy payment received from Richelieu and arrange for shipping.

  Quinto, I am impatient with the delay of some other commanders in mustering their forces. It interferes with everyone else’s dispositions. Have clever men in the capital speak with the up-timers I hired. If they know about telephones, then they must know about radio. Tell them I want a radio system by which I can, at every time, communicate directly with every regimental colonel in my forces. There will no longer be laments about letters lost in the mail and instructions gone astray. I will know that I have spoken to them and, moreover, they will know that I know it.

  In the latest encyclopedia signature you received from the publisher and placed on my desk, there was an article about something called facsimile. As I understand it, one could put a document into a telephone at one end and it would come out of a machine attached to a telephone at the other end. Select clever young men and send them to Grantville’s libraries to study this.

  “Sexto, my lady, as always, Gott mit uns.”

  He folded the missive neatly, placed it inside his doublet, stood up, and walked down the hall where his wife of a month’s standing was working at her own desk.

  Claudia glanced over it. “If nothing else, My Lord Husband, I think that I have grasped one essential point about our marriage. I need never fear that you regard me as a mere decorative ornament in your life, to be relegated to my own chambers where I and my ladies-in-waiting will do embroidery and gossip.”

  Bernhard looked at her, bewildered. “Why would I? I thought I made it very clear to everyone that I didn’t want that kind of wife.”

  He clasped his hands behind his back and raised a bushy eyebrow. “Now may I suggest a temporary recess while we do something about Proverbs 5:15-19, potentially incorporating selected passages from Ecclesiastes and the entire Song of Solomon?”

  Claudia wiped her pen to hide a smile. The grand duke’s efforts at husbandly flirtation were, to put it mildly, a bit awkward.

  But at least he tried.

  ✽ ✽ ✽

  Der Kloster drank in a tavern in the town rather than in the monastery.

  The grand duke disapproved of carousing in cloisters.

  The grand duke disapproved of carousing altogether, if the truth be told, but the rest of them weren’t so stiff-necked.

  “If God is really with us,” Ohm said, beckoning for more beer, “He will never, ever, permit the construction of one of these new ‘railroads’ in an east-west direction across Lorraine. Generals do not need an easier way to get their troops from France into the USE, or the other way around. If it were my choice, I would fortify each one of these n
orth-south rivers, doing my best to prevent road-building and beheading every railroad surveyor I saw.”

  Michael John wandered in.

  Moscherosch laughed. “Off duty at last.”

  “Anybody want to lay me a bet on what the grand ducal pair are doing this very minute?”

  “Hell, no!”

  Chapter 14 I Never, Ever, Watched Soap Operas

  Magdeburg

  Rebecca Abrabanel pried two clutching and screaming children loose from her skirts while she talked. “Sepharad, Baruch, stop that this instant! So, you see, Michael, the first requirement for a successful royal mistress, or ducal mistress, for that matter, is that she have a complaisant, or complacent, husband who will be proud and happy to bestow his name on any possible consequences of the relationship.”

  The USE prime minister hunched his shoulders, their youngest offspring, baby Kathleen, having just emitted a belch of amazing dimensions accompanied by part of her last meal. “This, I take it, was the missing element that led to the unfortunate death of the late duke of Lorraine.”

  Rebecca looked as solemn as anyone could have been expected to look, given the absurdity of the tale she was narrating.

  “For some months, the gentleman was not much in evidence. Possibly Charles could be forgiven for making the assumption of complacency. Or complaisancy. Whichever would be appropriate. Then, suddenly, he appeared at this rural château where they were disporting themselves, catching the pair in flagrante delicto. Morally outraged, sword in hand, he retrieved his marital honor by running both of them through with a sword, in the most time-honored manner.”

  “Convenient.” Balthasar Abrabanel’s eyes twinkled. “We’re sure it happened that way?”

  “By chance,” Francisco Nasi rolled his eyes, “by chance, he was accompanied by a half-dozen impeccable eye-witnesses. Their veracity is attested to by none other than Doña Mencia herself. You remember her, don’t you––Cardinal Bedmar’s sister who is Maria Anna’s lady-in-waiting. She is well-acquainted with them. The rumor that a couple of them held the duke and the pretty Beatrice down to simplify and expedite the running-through process is, probably, sheer embroidery.”