“Otto Tweimal. But he was acting as your secretary.”
“And who provided you with the testament and the bill of sale now in this room?”
Franz fully expected to hear the name of his former secretary again, but instead Councilor Bitterfeld looked as if he was biting into something sour, and said, “I am not at liberty to say. A story was told me in confidence.”
“In that case,” said Frau Kacere looking up from examining the seals, “and if no one has any further information, I must conclude that the Dreimark vineyard belong to the Eberhart family. The seal on the bill of sale is not identical to the one used on the old documents.” She looked at Franz. “And as the two documents by all appearances were made at the same time and by the same hand, I would also reject the testament as proof of the church ownership of the vineyard.”
“Of course. I would myself protest such a claim.”
“Whether or not the Würzburg Cathedral owes Councilor Bitterfeld a return of payment is a matter beyond my jurisdiction. I now declare this hearing over. You may all leave.”
As the people from the benches started to rise and move towards the doors, Councilor Bitterfeld stood scowling at everybody, then stormed out of the room, forcing everybody to jump aside. Schönborn took Franz to the big table where the young nun was finishing her writing and then passed the ledger over to Frau Kacere for signing.
“Sister Tabitha, may I introduce to you Prince-Bishop Franz von Hatzfeld of Würzburg with the assurance that had he been present when you and your order arrived, your reception in his bishopric would have been entirely different.”
“I should most certainly hope so.” The young girl in the blue dress had returned, and didn’t hesitate to interrupt. “That stinking Father Arnoldi was downright persecuting them, when they came to Würzburg as refugees. And why does Schönborn call you a prince?”
“Terrie! You are rude tonight far beyond what is acceptable,” Frau Kacere said. “Apologize to Bishop Franz.”
“No need for that. I am not at all offended.” Franz considered the young girl and continued.”While Father Johannes the Painter has told me much about the American irreverence and informality, this is the first time I’ve met your people in more than passing. And I am learning that Father Johannes did not at all exaggerate.” He stuck out his hand, and smiled. “Pleased to meet you, Miss Terrie. And prince combined with a clerical title is mainly an indication of independence. I do not intend to go on using it. Except,” he continued with a grin, “when I want to ‘Dupe the Joneses’. Is that the correct expression?”
“Exactly.” Terrie smiled and shook his hand in return. “And normally I am more polite. But Sister there,” she nodded towards the nun, “and I were visiting Frau Anna Eberhart when last Councilor Bitterfeld came to bully her. The things he said and the threats he made would have gotten him arrested in Grantville. Frau Anna is quite fragile, and her husband is too slow to be much help with anything but making and moving barrels of beer. I think you should stop giving the Eberharts dispensations to marry so closely within the family.” She took a deep breath, and continued before Frau Kacere could comment. “And I know I shouldn’t have said that either. Sister, if you are finished we could walk each other home.”
“If I may be permitted to escort the ladies?” Franz had noticed Frau Kacere looking slightly worried.
“No need. We both live only a few streets away and in the same direction.”
“Please, Miss Terrie, it would be my pleasure. And an escort for the two of you right now would make it easier for Frau Kacere to concentrate on finishing her work.”
“Oh, yes. Councilor Bitterfeld.” Terrie hesitated. “We could ask one of the guards.” Then she grinned at Franz, and took his offered arm. “Or are you trying to curry favor with the judge?”
“That is entirely possible. Though I did believe the curry was a spicy dish.”
* * *
“You stupid little twerp!” the slap from the big man sent Otto Tweimal crashing to the floor. “The bishop’s seal had been altered during his exile!” Otto considered trying to defend himself, but judging from the bulging veins on the big man’s head he do better not to call any attention to himself.
“And I had to stand there meekly accepting the insults from that insolent old witch and her sluttish tramps. They should be taught a lesson. Learn their place. To the fires with the lot of them. All women deserves to burn. Spawn of Satan…”
As the rant went on Otto crept slowly towards a corner and waited for a chance to escape.
Chapter 44
Cologne
April 1, 1635
"Your tisane."
Archbishop Ferdinand of Cologne nodded briefly, but didn't turn his head as Sister Ursula placed the cloth-wrapped pewter goblet on the table beside him. The sweet smell of honey and herbs reached his nose, but sweets had never been his preference, and everything that now entered his mouth seemed to take on the iron taste of blood.
"Leave it!"
At his words the old woman stopped her reach for the bottles still standing on the table.
"The doctors . . ."
"The doctors have said that I'm bleeding inside, and if it doesn't stop I'll eventually die. Just like from a knife in the stomach from the outside. It's taking too God-damned long! Leave!"
At the sound of the door closing softly behind him Archbishop Ferdinand used the strength from his anger to get up from the chair, grab the rough clay jug, and totter to the window. For the two weeks since his arrival to Cologne he had slowly been getting weaker, and was now leaving his bed only to receive the few people he had sent for, to see what might be saved. Nothing! His plans with Duke Wolfgang and Marshal Turenne set into motion exactly a year ago had been completely crushed and it looked like nothing could stop that damned USE from spreading its tentacles into the Rhine.
He felt the blood rising from the fire in his gut as he stretched to open the catch holding the leaded glass-panels closed, and fell down on the narrow window-bench, clay jug still in hand. Why sea-captain Morrison would have a preference for that rot-gut made from the leftovers of wine-making was incomprehensible, but according to the doctors, anything containing strong spirits was the worst he could possible put into his stomach. Not poison, but while it might briefly dull the pain, it would eventually kill him. He wrestled open the stopper at the top of the jug. The raw woody smell of the Marc rose to his nose.
The Rhine River glittering in the moonlight seemed to mock him with the possibilities it appeared to offer. False promises. The old man leaned his head against the side of the window, too weak to lift the jug.
"Jumping would be faster. If you are so keen on dying."
Startled the Archbishop squinted his eyes to see into the darkness of the room behind him.
"Sister Ursula. I thought you'd left." Archbishop Ferdinand could hear his own words slurring with fatigue. "I cannot. Better some Hell here on Earth, than suicide, and not seeing my bellowed brother, Philip, in Heaven." He sighed. "Philip has been dead for . . ." Archbishop Ferdinand stopped, but gave up trying to calculate the number, and sat again staring out the window.
Sister Ursula came out from the shadows to stand beside him. "And is a slow suicide all that you have left to hope for?" The old woman's voice was bitter enough to startle the Archbishop out of his musings.
"What else is there? Bavaria is impossible right now. Even if I could reach it. And nothing remains for me here. Surrounded by commoners snickering at my fall from power. And that sanctimonious Hatzfeldt can't even be relied upon to have me assassinated. If I only had Felix Gruyard with me, there might still be something I could do, but all that I have left are incompetent ninnies."
"I see." Sister Ursula looked down on the man she had loved and served all her life. "Then do as the doctors tell you, and retire into rural seclusion until you heal. By then there might be new possibilities. New resources. The Crown Loyalists just won the election. You could work with them!"
"S
uch as Hesse? The hell I will." He lifted the jug, and drank only to fall forward over the windowsill vomiting blood down the stone wall.
In the room behind him the old woman's face was a pale emotionless mask in the dusk. Then she bent down to grab his ankles, and straightened to give a heave, sending him out the window to his death on the courtyard below.
"One last service," she whispered, and went to take the bottles back to the wine cellar.
Chapter 45
Bamberg
April 5, 1635
Terrie rushed into the Eberhart brewery and smack into an object not inclined to move out of her way, but as she bounced back and arm reached out and grabbed her before she could land on the tiled floor.
“Easy, my pretty sweet, you made me spill my beer.” The big soldier’s smile was surprisingly charming. “This must have made the floor quite slippery.” He put down his mug on a barrel and swept Terrie up in his arms.
“Put me down! Right now!” With Frau Eberhart standing shaking her head with a fond smile, Terrie didn’t feel the least frightened, but the broad grins from the apprentices annoyed her.
“Yes, but where? You wouldn’t want to break one of those pretty ankles.”
“Fräulein Terrie is an American, Colonel von Hatzfeldt, and as such quite independent. She would probably prefer to navigate the floor on her own. Terrie, my dear, Colonel Wolf von Wildenburger-Hatzfeld is Bishop Franz’s cousin, and as you have already seen a bit of a flirt. He is here inquiring about some troop movement south of here, but it was my husband, who talked to the trader, and he has already gone to the vineyard with the new wine barrels. Weren’t you and Sister Tabitha supposed to go with him?”
The big soldier had put Terrie back on the floor—not too quickly—leaned back against the whitewashed wall, and picked up his mug again.
“Yes, Frau Eberhart, but Frau Kacere needed Sister at the office, and we decided to wait to another day. I just came to tell you.” Terrie shook out her skirt and scowled at the soldier. On principle. He really looked quite charming—and had had a bath and a shave quite recently, which automatically gave him a few bonus points.
“What a pity, my dear. I know how much you had looked forward to a spring day the sun after spending all winter studying.”
“Yes, I’ve probably annoyed everyone by talking of little else all week.” Terrie sighed. “I could just have gone with your husband on my own, but by the time I thought of it, he had already left.”
“Well, I’m going to talk with Herr Eberhart as soon as I’ve arranged for the delivery of a barrel of this beer to the Cathedral. You could ride behind me on a saddle pillow, it’s not that far.”
Terrie considered the offer from the smiling soldier, who continued “And while I don’t claim to be harmless—and like pretty young girls as much as the next man—I also badly need the help of your people in tracking down an old enemy. I give you my word of honor that you’ll come to no harm that I can prevent.”
“I accept. Can you pick me up in front of the Geyerswoerth Palace? I’ll tell Frau Kacere and Sister where I’ve gone.”
* * *
When Terrie worked her way out the heavy palace doors carrying a fairly large hamper, there were two men on horses waiting in the cobbled courtyard.
“With your permission, Fräulein Terrie, I would like to invite myself along for your outing to the Dreimark vineyard,” said Bishop Franz smiling and taking the hamper from Terrie. “I have longed to see those hills again in the spring time for five long years. And chaperoning my wayward cousin Wolf provides the perfect excuse for playing truant from my duties.”
“Certainly come with us. The more the merrier. Frau Kacere suggested I get a picnic hamper from the kitchen, and I asked for enough for Herr Eberhart as well. Judging from its weight, the content could easily stretch for another person.” Terrie had seen Bishop Franz quite often since his arrival, but usually deep in somber discussions with Janie Kacere, or buried in ledgers and documents. This morning, however, he seemed a completely different person, obviously enjoying the prospect of a ride in the fresh air, and bent on teasing his cousin.
“Herr Eberhart is a kind and pious man, and I am sure he would like nothing better than to share his bounty with my psalm-mongering cousin.” Wolf lifted Terrie up to the pillow tied behind the saddle of one of the horses, then lifted her down again and started adjusting some ties. She was pretty sure he’d felt the gun tied to the small of her back, but he just continued teasing his cousin. “Franz also tried to insist, that you should sit behind him, rather than me, but that is out of the question. He must console himself for the loss of lovely young girls with food as becoming for a priest. And besides: my stories are far more entertaining.”
“It would be kinder to the horses, Wolf.” Bishop Franz grinned at his cousin and winked at Terrie. “Even with all the walking you did after that barmaid stole your money and horse, you are still a good deal heavier than me. Why don’t you start with telling us that story? You’ve never really been clear about what happened?”
The Dreimark farm
“Well, unless you want to travel the rest of the way to Rothenburg with the servants in their wagon, we’ll have to wait until the broken wheel is repaired,” Eva said. “Personally I wouldn’t mind. I just want to get you delivered, and get back to my own life.” Eva pulled up the hood of her brown cloak and started walking up the hill toward the vineyard behind the farm waving away the guard, who started to follow.
“What! Are you not staying with me in Rothenburg?” Maria almost tried to run to keep up with Eva, but had to place her feet carefully to avoid having her wooden heels slipping on the gravel.
“No. Why should I.”
“But who’ll keep me company? Mother’s friend is old, and never goes anywhere because of her gout.”
“I neither know nor care. You are a spoiled and thoughtless brat, and I’ve had to listen to your endless whining for three week. I’ve had enough. Go back to the farm, and wait for the smith they are sending for to repair the wheel.”
“I don’t want to.” Maria sniffled a little. “That dung heap really stinks.”
“I noticed.”
“Can’t I come with you? I’ll be silent.”
Eva stopped and looked over her shoulder. “I seriously doubt that you can, but as long as you don’t mention Magdeburg, you can come along.”
“Where are we going?”
“Just among the rows of grapevines. There’s a track for driving the wagons along during harvest. The ground should be covered with rubble soaking up the heat from the sun, so any herbs spouts earlier here than in the woods.”
“You and your herbs.”
“We’ve had almost a week of full sun, so there might be violets too.”
“I like candied violets. And a posy would both brighten up that dull brown of your dress, and look good against my blue one.”
* * *
Otto Tweimal huddled himself deeper into his cloak, and sneaked a watchful peek at the small group of ruffians in front of him. If he had to be involved in this demeaning business, he should at least have been in charge. After all he was the graduate of a prestigious convent seminar (regardless of how he had managed that), and had spent most of his adult life in the confidence of men of power (and made the most of the bribes and other opportunities that had come with that), so how dare they belittle him by saying: “and take along that useless twerp. At least he can hold the horses.” Of course there were no reason for him to care, what a group of rough hired bullies thought about him, but while a few threats and slaps from an employer in private might be excused—after all men of power were also men under pressure—insults in front of people from the lower classes undermined his authority, and that were totally unacceptable. If only Bishop Franz had not returned, there might have been a chance for Otto to offer his service to the Americans in the new administration, but the Bishop had made no secret of his disgust at Otto’s behavior in Archbishop Ferdinand’s camp, and
would certainly tell everybody if Otto came out of hiding. On the other hand, Bishop Franz had loathed the Archbishop’s torturer and might be forgiving if Otto made the most of his fear of Felix Gruyard. It would not do to appear sniveling when presenting himself to a new employer, but . . .
The ruffian in charge signed for his men to move forward, and Otto raised his head. The plan had been to watch the farm for the arrival of a wagon filled with barrels plus an older man and two young girls. One of the girls should be wearing a brown nun’s habit and have a few pockmarks, while the other would probably be dressed in the bright blue color said to be preferred by the Americans. The ruffians had orders to grab both girls, or—if that wasn’t possible—at least the one in blue. If the opportunity was there, they should also beat up the man driving them as badly as they liked, if he died so much the better. The girls would then be taken to a collier’s hut in the hills above Untersteinbach, where they should be kept until someone came to pick them up.
Otto had quietly snickered at the ruffians confusion when the wagon had arrived with no girls sitting beside the driver, and when shortly afterwards a closed carriage had rolled in slowly and two girls fitting the description had descended. The two girls had now started to walk towards the vineyard, and apparently the leader of the ruffians had decided that the opportunity was too good to miss. And it might be so for Otto as well: what better opportunity to gain favor than by Otto foiling the kidnapping of one of the Americans’ daughter and a nun under the protection of Bishop Franz’s crony, Schönborn. Otto became quite cheerful at the thought, and quickly tied up the horses to creep after the ruffians as they started moving forward.
1635- the Wars for the Rhine (ARC) Page 29