Ring of Fire - 1635_ The Legions of Pestilence

by Virginia DeMarce

  There was no way to predict how long the negotiations would take. There would be dinners to occupy part of the long evenings, concerts to occupy other parts of the long evenings, and occasional meetings with royal bureaucrats. Both of them were going to need more clothes. Not new clothes, given their budget, but they made discreet inquiries about second-hand outlets for demoted court dress suitable for gentlemen of minor status. It didn’t come on the market often, but there was always some valet who had passed-down garments to sell.

  ✽ ✽ ✽

  “So, Herr von Bismarck,” one of Christian’s courtiers who had been introduced as Ulfeldt said at dinner a few days later. “What is your background?”

  “My father died when I was nine; my mother is still alive; I have one married sister who lives near Hanover. Otherwise, four brothers, all also in military service, and two unmarried sisters.”

  “I had my secretary look up ‘Bismarck’ in that encyclopedia. He got the impression that the family was Prussian.”

  Ulfeldt wasn’t the type to look something up for himself and read the entire article when he had a secretary who could make a précis for him.

  “Prussia? Oh, no. The family has no connection with Prussia at all. We are from the Altmark. That is in Brandenburg, west of the Elbe. I was born at Schönhausen, as was my father. My mother was born at Neindorf, in Brunswick, not too far from Wolfenbüttel, but because of the war, she moved to Stendal, where she thought she would be safer. That is an old Hansa city, about thirty miles northeast of Magdeburg. I’m sure you’re familiar with it.” He paused. And if you aren’t you really should be. “That’s all in the USE’s new Magdeburg Province now–the emperor placed it there before the summer 1635 campaigns.”

  “I’m sure you’re happy to be well out and away from what is going on in the Germanies, then? I’m assuming that a member of the Brandenburg nobility has sound Crown Loyalist views and fully supports efforts to reign rein in this upstart Stearns. Give the emperor and House of Lords more authority, the House of Commons less?” Ulfeldt smirked.

  The woman seated across from Bismarck made a face. “Maybe not more authority to the emperor. Remember what the Vasa line has done to the Swedish nobility over the last half century. What we need is due deference to the nobility. Not this ridiculous deference to the city burghers, much less the peasants, that has led Duke Wilhelm of Saxe-Weimar to renounce his rank. ‘Wilhelm Wettin’ is ridiculous. The natural ruling class needs to reinforce a good, strong, hand in the USE, if you ask me.”

  Bismarck tilted his head. “The residents of the Altmark’s towns and the rural village communities are actually rather notorious for being obstreperous in defense of their rights and privileges, even without the arrival of the up-timers to egg them on. That’s one of the reasons that Magdeburg Province has taken to the Committees of Correspondence so well. If you just look at the district election statistics for February 1635 compared to those of last June....”

  Bismarck was off and running. Statistics had come as a divine revelation in his intellectual development. The rest of the table conversation dribbled to a halt.

  The next evening, Ruvigny underwent a similar gauntlet of questions. He told the flat truth, just as Bismarck had done. Petit noblesse, Huguenot, his father had been a client of the duc de Rohan, military service. There was no reason to conceal the facts. A compilation of up-time aphorisms he had read some time before contained "“Give a man a mask and he will show his true face.”" There had been several quotations from this author, Oscar Wilde, about whom he should really learn more. There was no need for a mask in this business, nor was there any reason to reveal more of his true face than necessary. There was certainly no obligation to mention that he was in the employ of Bernhard rather than Frederik Hendrik.

  At the other end of the table, a sullen young woman, of high status as anyone could discern on the basis of the seating arrangements as well as the luxury of her dress, stared blankly into the distance. Dinner was followed by music. During the music, she ordered one of the senior ladies-in-waiting to present the Stadhouder’s envoys to her; the woman complied with barely-concealed hostility.

  Chapter 36

  The royal gardens were a bit fog-bound the next morning, even after daylight finally made its debut about the ninth hour of the day. The wind was blowing from the harbor where the fishing fleet docked. Bismarck walked politely amid a small flock of the crown princess’ ladies-in-waiting. Ruvigny let himself dawdle a bit behind the main group, since there was no way to politely shake off the grip that the sullen young woman of the previous evening had taken on his elbow. One did not shake off even a thin, pinch-faced, sullen young woman if she was acknowledged as the daughter of the monarch with whom one had business. Sophia, second of Christian IV’s daughters by Kirsten Munk. After she directed a couple of deep frowns at the rest of the group, only one maid followed behind them, at a respectful distance.

  The maid, whose name was Hille, watched and thought.

  Nobody had to tell Hille Larsdatter how unbelievably fortunate she was to have been chosen as maid to the king’s daughter. They told her so with great frequency anyhow. That was maid, mind you. Not lady-in-waiting. Not lady’s maid, in charge of dressing her mistress for elaborate functions. That was maid, as in empty the slop jars. Her personal suspicion was that the skills required to empty the slop jars of a king’s daughter did not differ notably from those required to empty the slop jars of the wife of a Hansa merchant. Or, for that matter, from those needed to empty the slop jars of a prosperous carpenter’s wife. Or her own. In her more dire moments, she was fairly sure that she had received the post because Lady Sophia was known to be so unpleasant that every maid in the palace who had more seniority had successfully avoided it. This morning, she had been sent to follow the king’s daughter “in case she needs something while she is out,” so she followed. And listened. And thought.

  Lady Sophia’s end of the conversation could have been summed up as, “What are you really doing here?” compounded by “Not very likely, if you ask me.” and culminating in, “Nobody in his right mind would make this much of a fuss over my brother Waldemar.”

  As Hille watched and followed the next day, it didn’t change much. Lady Sophia kept the diplomat’s elbow in a grip as determined as that of the day before and fixed her eyes on his face. When she spoke, she narrowed her concern to, “Am I the counter that is currently on the table?”

  Ruvigny countered that he was not authorized to discuss the mission with anyone outside the persons designated by the Stadhouder.

  She squinted her eyes. “After my sister Anne Cathrine married the up-timer Cantrell, she was stuck here for what seemed like ages because the Swedes wouldn’t have her at the naval yard in Lübeck. Then when the expedition finally left, Papa sent my next younger sister Leonora to the Caribbean with them. The others are too young to be married yet; betrothals are one thing, but marriages are another. The twins aren’t even old enough to give binding consent and Papa hasn’t broken Elisabeth’s engagement to Hannibal Sehestad. That leaves me and I insist on knowing what kind of proposition you have brought to my father from the Netherlands, if it involves me.”

  Ruvigny made noncommital noises.

  “Do not be contrary, M. de Ruvigny. As a child, I was betrothed to Christian von Pentz. After Holstein was incorporated into the USE at the Congress of Copenhagen, Papa didn’t need a competent German diplomat to serve as his liaison to Glückstadt any more, so he didn’t have any reason to let the betrothal stand. Pentz was not the equal in either birth or political importance to the husbands that Papa chose for my sisters, so I did not mind at all when he broke it off.

  “That didn’t have anything to do with why Papa cancelled Leonora’s betrothal. That was because he learned that in the world from which the up-timers came, there developed a ‘Sons-in-Law Party’ among the high Danish nobility that tried to arrogate the real power in the kingdom to themselves. He didn’t want that to happen now. Leonora was
betrothed to Corlitz Ulfeldt, but Papa broke that contract too and sent her away. That doesn’t mean that he’s broken the nobles, though. They still have a lot of influence and now Corlitz Ulfeldt wants me if he can’t have Leonora. I would be a booby prize for him, more or less, not even a consolation prize, since Leonora is Papa’s favorite and I am not. Still though, I suppose I’m better than nothing for his purposes. He must think so. Providing Papa with his first grandchildren would count for something.” She rubbed one hand impatiently over her cheeks, which were chapping in the wind.

  “Surely you are not ‘nothing,’ my lady,” Ruvigny responded.

  “You haven’t been at the court long or you would know how ‘nothing’ I am.

  “Ulfeldt came back to the court in 1630. He was away for years, being educated, just like von Pentz was. He studied at the University of Padua for a while and learned Italian manners, like in the Galateo.” She wrinkled up her nose. “La, la, la. Everyone knows that to be a courtly gentleman, you have to study in Italy. Down deep, underneath, that was one reason Papa was so impressed with the up-timers–when he heard that the heads of the schools in Grantville, first Mr. Piazza and then Mr. Saluzzo, were Italians. Also so many of the teachers. Even if he did make fun of it.”

  Ruvigny looked down at her. “I am not, myself, directly familiar with the up-timers; certainly not with the city of Grantville. I have met a few over the past several years, but that is the most I can claim.”

  Sophia shook her head. “Do not try to distract me. Ulfeldt came back, all nonchalant and graceful. Beautifully dressed. Full of accomplishments. Papa made him a knight of the Order of the Elephant at my brother Christian’s wedding and he has been living in a showy, splendid, undoubtedly very expensive style. Leonora persuaded herself that she was in love with him.

  “Then Eddie Cantrell showed up. Anne Cathrine persuaded herself that she was in love with him and moped for months after they got married because the Swedes wouldn’t let her be with him at the naval yard.

  “I do not have faith in ‘in love’ in the least.”

  She reached under her cape, into the sleeve of her dress, pulling out a rather crumpled sheet of sloppily or carelessly written paper. “Now I know that Ulfeldt is a terrible man. According to Papa’s copy of the 1911 Encyclopedia Britannica, he won’t get any better. Just look!” She stopped in the middle of the path and shoved it into his free hand. “It says, ‘his character was marked by ambition, avarice and absolute lack of honour or conscience.’ Also, he lost all his money and property in his ridiculous schemes. I can’t imagine why, in that other world Leonora was so stupid as to be loyal to him no matter what. Maybe she’s not so bright and clever as everyone says. Maybe she’s as stupid as I am; just in some different way.”

  “You do not speak as if you are imperceptive,” Ruvigny commented.

  “I’m stupid; everyone says so.”

  She looked up; Ruvigny noticed that her eyes were more stormy gray than the blue he had expected among the Scandinavians.

  “I’m also seventeen,” she continued without a pause, “so he’s pushing very hard for Papa to marry me to him right now. His father was the chancellor, of course, when Papa agreed to the marriage with Leonora, but old Jakob Ulfeldt died years ago, so that’s not a consideration any more. But Corfitz has support from a lot of the nobles who don’t want to do what Papa tells them to do.”

  Ruvigny wondered whether, “don’t want to do what Papa tells them” was an accurate reflection of her level of political understanding. Could she be, as self-described, stupid? Or whether it was the level of political understanding that she considered it to be safe for her to show in the environs of the Danish court.

  She glanced around, noticed that the maid had caught up with them and was standing just a few steps away, took the copy of the encyclopedia article back, tugged on his elbow, and moved briskly to rejoin the remainder of the group. “I would like to discuss this article more, later. I also need to know–is this project from the Netherlands anything that may give me some alternative?”

  Hille wondered what other information an encyclopedia might contain.

  ✽ ✽ ✽

  There was no opportunity for further discussion that evening. Sophia gazed across the room, rather admiring the auburn of M. de Ruvigny’s hair. She was certain she was admiring him rather than some other man. His face was a blur, certainly, but she was excellent at identifying colors at a distance. She couldn’t go over to confirm the identification because she was trapped by the duty of being polite to the families of several visiting rural fief holders.

  Ruvigny gazed discreetly back. Lensmand, such a man was called in Denmark, he recalled.

  The next morning was Sunday and everyone went to church: she to the Lutheran cathedral, the Church of Our Lady, which the Danes had never bothered to rename–an instance of neglect that struck a French Protestant as distinctly peculiar. He and Bismarck attended the small Calvinist chapel of the Dutch merchant community that the king had licensed the year before. During the afternoon, they used the rest of the scanty daylight to explore, visiting St. Peter’s, the old medieval church that Christian IV had given to the German-speaking community of the city, and the Holy Spirit church, also medieval–a delightful day, overall.

  The tortuous waiting continued for another several days. Ruvigny and Bismarck could do nothing meaningful to advance the king’s consideration of the matter before him. They did their duty as guests by participating in the various entertainments offered–entertainments at which Sophia continued her efforts to elicit the nature of the negotiations.

  “Do not delude yourself, M. de Ruvigny,” Sophia said one evening. “I do not delude myself. I am intelligent enough to realize that something truly is very wrong with me, which has made me very furious with the world ever since I became aware of it. I truly am less, in everything than my younger sister. No matter how hard I try, I can never achieve what is expected of me, which makes me angry–at myself and at others. I do not possess one single accomplishment by which I may reflect glory upon my father the king or satisfactorily perform my expected duties as an ornament to his court. Well, not absolutely everyone has called me stupid, but most people do. About two years before the king of Sweden reconstituted the Union of Kalmar on Denmark, Papa hired a governess from Grantville.

  Interlude

  Frederiksborg Palace, Spring 1633

  Sophia, aged 14, stood next to Anne Cathrine and Leonora. Miss Joanie, the governess their father had obtained from Grantville several months earlier, was speaking to Papa. Anne Cathrine, she said, was poised and self-possessed,“she is mature for her age and presents herself very well; she is really ready to leave the schoolroom.” Leonora was clever, academically very adept, which she was certain that the king already knew. Then....

  “In the matter of addressing Lady Sophia’s dyslexia, which ideally should have been treated much earlier, when she first started to have formal lessons, I’m not a special education teacher, but I am familiar enough with the condition to realize that fourteen is too old to expect an optimal outcome.”

  Papa reared back and screamed, “Who has not told me this already. ? I do not need you to hear the same thing. ‘Against stupidity, the gods themselves strive in vain.’”

  Miss Joanie straightened her shoulders and spoke up. “Please don’t put words into my mouth, Your Majesty. I did not say that Lady Sophia was stupid. Dyslexia is a learning disability. I am offering to consult with Mr. Isaiah Avery, who is on the faculty of the Grantville school system, and who is much more familiar with this condition than I am.” She lifted her head a little higher. “I am sure, Your Majesty, that you have heard of the famous physician Dr. James Nichols. We didn’t just have a Moorish doctor up-time; we also had Moorish teachers and a couple of them came back with the Ring of Fire. You are not under any obligation to take advantage of the offer I am making, Your Majesty, but you’ll be wasting the money you are paying my husband and myself if you don’t.”

/>   Later, in the classroom, Miss Joanie said, “Well, even though I’ve never seen myself as Joan of Arc, I’m glad I spoke up. Now I’ve stuck poor Isaiah under the spotlight, but sometimes you have to use any tool you have handy.”

  November 1636

  “Partly,” Sophia continued, “I think it was for the prestige, simply the prestige of having a couple of the people from the future here at the court. They were nowhere near as important then as they are now. It was like keeping a jester, or, perhaps, keeping a fool. But Papa did let Miss Joanie write to Mr. Isaiah Avery. A councillor, she called him, I think. Or maybe counselor? I never saw it written and probably couldn’t have told the difference if I did. It sounded important. He knew about special education and he drew up something he called an I E P and sent it to Papa. Papa gave copies to the governess and all our special tutors for religion and languages and music. They didn’t pay any attention to it; I doubt that Papa expected them to. Miss Joanie reminded Papa several times, but he never made them try the plan. At the end of the year, Miss Joanie and her husband went back to Grantville. They didn’t stay very long; our tutors and governesses never do.”

  Interlude

  Rosenborg Palace, Fall 1633

  Sophia, her sisters, and her brother stood to the side. Miss Joanie’s husband, his name was Henry Smith, always saying, “Call me Hank,” straightened up his shoulders and spoke to Papa.

  “Your Majesty, you were born into a certain position and you have held it since you were a small child. What that means is that all your life, almost everyone who has said anything to you has been telling you what he, or maybe she, thought you wanted to hear. That was to save their own careers, or even their lives, so I suppose I can’t really blame them for it.