by Eric Flint
"And, as he said, he has business to catch up on, so it makes more sense for him to stay with Professor Buxtorf. At least, he managed to get a bank draft so Maria Anna can get some clean clothes. You've given him a draft on the embassy account to pay him back for what he loaned us to get some stuff when we were in Neuburg and Ulm, haven't you, Diane? And for the lodgings. The bill came to quite a bit, once we counted it up. He says he sold all the horses that came and went on the trip for more than he paid for them, so we don't owe him anything for those."
"Yes, I pay him already. Or Tony did. Tony does the money here," Diane answered.
"But that's why we arrived without any more than we were carrying," Mary said. "We left Munich with just what we were wearing and there was never any point in buying a lot. Not just because we were having to borrow money, but, after all, we did have to carry it all. That explains, I'm afraid, why we are all rather dirty."
"We do," Veronica said, "have clean underwear and socks. Since Neuburg, at least. We looked like tramps when we came to Neuburg. So did the English Ladies. We got a few more things in Ulm. Linen towels, for washing our faces and feet. And the shops there already carry baking soda and toothbrushes. We each got a set. Even me, for the false teeth. And scarves to go under the pilgrim hats, to keep dust from our hair. Better clothes. One set each. But that is all."
"The archduchess, too?" Diane's voice clearly indicated her disbelief.
"Yes," Mary Simpson answered. "Maria Anna, too."
"Perhaps some of my things will fit you," Diane offered rather doubtfully.
"Veronica, maybe. But I am five inches taller than you are. And Maria Anna…" Mary's voice trailed off.
"She is much taller," Diane said. "And twice as wide. But it is not safe for her to go shopping. Also, I do not want to let a dressmaker into the embassy. For good reasons. We try to keep strangers from coming in, as much as we can. It is not easy here, right now. The Basel people are nervous. This Margrave Friedrich, who wanted to see an up-timer, is nervous. I said he was rude. Maybe not rude, but he pays no attention to me."
"Then," Veronica said practically, "let's just wash the clothes we have on. We can sit around wrapped in sheets until they are dry. And make a list. You can send one of the men shopping."
"Tony will go shopping," Diane said. "Tony does the money here. It was not in his job description, but I put it there. It is a big waste to make him a soldier just because he runs the radio."
****
News. All three of them were starving for news. They had been walking out in the countryside for a week with no news to be had. Diane updated them with the latest she knew in regard to the three-way negotiations between Gustav Adolf, Fredrik Hendrik, and Don Fernando.
Maria Anna looked at Mary and Veronica. Without saying anything, she raised her eyebrows. Mary nodded.
"Perhaps, Your Excellency," she began, turning to Diane, "I should explain why I am here. And where I am going."
****
When Cavriani arrived to have supper with them, he brought even more news as well as his banker's complete collection of newspapers from the past month. They were only on loan, he pointed out conscientiously.
"I really should write Potentiana," Cavriani was saying. "I need to explain to her, I think, that I do not know where Marc is."
"Why?" Veronica asked.
"Well. Because I need to tell her that I have misplaced our only son."
"So because you feel guilty, you will write a letter and make her worry." Veronica banged the haft of her knife on the table. "What good will the letter do? She cannot go find him. You do not know for sure that he has problems. Only that he has not caught up with you."
Veronica was frowning at Cavriani fiercely. "It is bad enough to know that your son is dead. Or your grandson. If you do not know that it is so, making her worry about it is cruel."
"But…"
"Write her. Tell her that you are in Basel. Tell her the last you know for sure. But do not say that you are afraid for him. If you say that, then she will be afraid for him, too. Each day has troubles enough of its own. If he is dead, she can grieve when you know it is true."
****
Tony Adducci powered up the Basel radio system. It was one of the down-time radios that had been built from up-time parts-the best that Frank Jackson had been able to get hold of to send along with Diane. On the average, he was able to communicate with Grantville about four hours a day. He could also communicate reliably and consistently with Amsterdam. He could not communicate directly with Magdeburg at all. It was something to do with the length of the jumps.
So. This was certainly the most exciting information that he had sent out in a long time. Who got it first?
Tony was a prudent young man. A member of the USE army, to be sure, but still a prudent young man.
Mary Simpson, Veronica Dreeson, and Archduchess Maria Anna said that the first person to get the news was to be his Aunt Bernadette, who was to tell a nun named Mary Ward that they were safe in Basel.
Diane Jackson had ordered him to tell Mr. Piazza first, to send it on to Magdeburg.
The minute he managed to raise up Tanya Newcomb, he sent a message that she should get both Mr. Piazza and his Aunt Bernadette into the same room as the radio, right now, please, if she could.
She could, she said. Mr. Piazza had just gotten back from Magdeburg that afternoon and was still in his office going through mail; she would phone Bernadette and have her there in a jiffy.
As soon as she signaled back, Tony sent off the messages. Simultaneously. For the first time since they left Neuburg, somebody in a position of authority inside the USE knew exactly where Maria Anna, Mary, and Veronica were.
****
Grantville
Bernadette Adducci dashed for St. Mary's rectory, where, as soon as she had talked to Father Kircher for five minutes, she picked up the phone and asked Mary Ward to come over.
Ed Piazza left Tanya to radio Magdeburg. He would rather be out of the room when the message went through, if only because if John Simpson might be in Magdeburg for the conference. The admiral would never be rude enough to yell at Tanya. He might very well, however, yell at Ed-and Simpson was fully capable of yelling in Morse code if he was sufficiently provoked. Ed told Tanya to call him back if Mike or anyone else in Amsterdam wanted him.
Then he went back to his own office and grabbed the phone to notify Henry and Annalise that Veronica was safe, although, for a reason that he was not yet authorized to share with them, in Basel. Yes, Switzerland. Basel was okay, he assured them. Basel was neutral, like the rest of Switzerland. Some way, from Basel, Ed promised, they would manage to get her back home.
At St. Mary's, Bernadette told Mary Ward that Maria Anna, Mary, and Veronica were in Basel.
Mary Ward reached through the slit in her skirt and pulled out the separate pocket she wore. Opening the drawstring, she pulled out a small packet wrapped in oiled cloth. She broke a seal, unwrapped the cloth, and handed a folded piece of paper to Bernadette. "For you," she said. "From Archduchess Maria Anna of Austria."
Bernadette read it. She looked at Father Kircher. "If the two of you will excuse me," she said, "I need to get back to the radio room before Amsterdam closes down for the evening."
****
Basel
Tony Adducci fully expected that radio messages would be coming and going until the window of opportunity closed down. He had not expected to hear from the Netherlands, but something from Becky Stearns or the Stadtholder, Fredrik Hendrik, was not completely beyond the normal. They kept the various embassies updated on the progress of negotiations, so the ambassadors could be at least a little ahead of the newspapers. Not much, given the wild expansion of journalism in the past couple of years.
There was one from them. From Becky, rather. Another from Mike Stearns. In Amsterdam? What was Mike doing in Amsterdam? Of course, they were in the middle of negotiations, but they had gotten bogged down by Gustav Adolf's demand for some kind of gua
rantees from Don Fernando.
He read everything as it came in, of course. He had to. Becky said thanks for the information sent via Grantville and Magdeburg.
****
Amsterdam
Mike Stearns was in Amsterdam because there was a truce. Because it had occurred to him that he could gain some brownie points by personally delivering Dona Mencia to her brother. Because he badly wanted to see his wife. Because Gustav Adolf had agreed that he could go. The arrangements had been rather complicated.
He watched. Becky and Fredrik Hendrik were having fun writing a note to Don Fernando. Finally, it said:
We know exactly where your intended bride is. We will tell you if you agree to declare yourself ruler of the Spanish Netherlands and make a formal break with Spain, whether the rest of the Habsburgs agree or not. Fish or cut bait. For further information, contact Becky or Fred. Love.
It was accompanied, of course, by a far more formal communication which said the same things in diplomatically suitable language. The short note would probably only be read by Don Fernando himself. Well, also probably by Rubens, Cardinal Bedmar, who was now his chancellor, and Dona Mencia.
Becky had written another note to Dona Mencia. Just, She is safe. She is well, in her own hand, with Mike's co-signature at the bottom.
Attached to it was a copy of a radio message from Grantville: Most honored cousin. If you receive this, I have arrived at the destination you named. We owe patronage to the English Ladies. Maria Anna.
Fredrik Hendrik was hand delivering both notes to Don Fernando's headquarters at this very moment. Mike and Rebecca were enduring some sarcastic remarks by Gretchen, who was far from impressed by the apparent intention of Gustav Adolf and the USE to compromise with a younger brother of the king of Spain on several of the minor points.
****
Don Fernando read through the three notes and smiled at Fredrik Hendrik. "She is in Basel, then, so I do not need you to tell me. Although, to be sure, I would appreciate knowing 'exactly' where in Basel." He rose. "But, nonetheless. I had intended to delay a formal announcement. But we are certain of my aunt's approbation. We are as prepared, here, in Brussels and in Antwerp, even in Liege, even in Luxemburg, as we ever are likely to be."
He turned to Pieter Paul Rubens. "So let us do it now." Then to Cardinal Bedmar. "You have it?"
"Yes, Your Majesty," Bedmar said smoothly. "The latest clean draft treaty proposal received from the king of Sweden's negotiators. And five exact copies. Six exact notarized copies of Infanta Isabella Clara Eugenia's will."
Don Fernando looked at Fredrik Hendrik. "It will be faster if I come to your quarters."
****
Basel
Intended bride? Tony blinked a minute and then made the connection. Maria Anna, the archduchess. She was going to marry Don Fernando? But he was a cardinal?
Another message incoming. Reception was fading, but it was short. "Done." Stearns, prime minister, for the emperor; Fernando, king in the Low Countries; Fredrik Hendrik, Stadtholder, for the United Provinces.
King in the Low Countries? Probably not a cardinal. Not any more. Politics. It was none of Tony's business, of course, but he disapproved. The church shouldn't operate that way. He wished he could talk to Larry Mazzare about the stuff that was going on.
The message would have to be short, of course, Tony thought. The window of opportunity would be closing for Amsterdam, too, and they would be trying to get it out to Emperor Gustav Adolf, wherever he was; to Mr. Piazza in Grantville; maybe to Chancellor Oxenstierna in Stockholm before things shut down. He copied out the two notes and handed them to Diane. She read them; then got up and went out into the anteroom where the archduchess, Mrs. Simpson, and Mrs. Dreeson were waiting with Mr. Cavriani.
Not just truce. Peace. At least in one corner of Europe, for the time being, until the Spanish decided what to do about it. And the French, if the French were in a position to do anything about anyone right now, given what Gustav Adolf was doing to them.
It was probably about as good as they were going to get. Tony started packing up the radio gear. There wouldn't be any more news until morning.
****
Maria Anna sat, looking at her copy of the last message from Amsterdam. Somewhere inside her, there was a feeling of quiet satisfaction that she would be marrying a king after all. She noticed this. Pride, certainly; perhaps even arrogance; she would need to mention it at confession.
But she would much rather, she admitted to herself, be married to a king than to a plain duke. She really would. But she would not say so to Mary and Veronica.
Herr Cavriani, she suspected, already knew. And would not be surprised.
Chapter 61
Epistolae Diplomaticae
Basel
As soon as Tony Adducci set up the radio before dawn the next day, the messages started coming in. The most urgent was from Frank Jackson in Magdeburg, via Grantville, to Lee Swiger. "Get Diane and the rest of the staff out of there as soon as you can. Reasons to follow."
Tony looked out the window. He would pass the message on to Swiger, but none of them were going anywhere any time soon. An "honor guard" of Basel municipal guards surrounded the whole building, as it had since the previous evening.
There had been more important information to send out the night before, so he hadn't informed Grantville or Magdeburg about the "honor guard." Now, on his own initiative, he wrote up a short message describing its presence and sent it out.
He was sort of glad that Mike or Mr. Piazza would have to tell Frank. He sure wouldn't want to be the one who did it.
Every now and then, he wondered whether he should really start thinking of these men he had known all his life, friends of his dad's, as Mr. Stearns and Colonel Jackson, now that they were important. Mr. Piazza had always been Mr. Piazza, of course. He was the principal.
****
The archduchess turned up in the radio office. Tony thought that she seemed to be a pleasant, polite, sort of lady, not at all what he would have expected Emperor Ferdinand II's daughter to be like. She had authorization to send messages, signed by Diane. Okay.
The first one went to Amsterdam, to be given to Don Fernando.
"Most honored cousin. Congratulations on new status. What about dispensations? Yours from vows? Mine from Bavarian betrothal? Ours for first cousins to marry? If you have them already, we owe Cardinal Bedmar a favor. Not to mention the pope. Maria Anna."
Tony sent it off. Thanks to his Aunt Bernadette's dinner table conversation, he even pretty much understood it. The archduchess seemed to be a practical sort of lady. In fact, she sort of reminded Tony of Aunt Bernadette. He wondered if Don Fernando knew what he was getting himself into. Pleasant and polite or not, if Tony ever got married, he didn't intend to pick a wife who reminded him of Aunt Bernadette.
The second one went to Amberg, to Duke Ernst.
"Thank you for your kindness to Dona Mencia. Maria Anna Oe."
No problem there.
The third one to Amsterdam again, for Dona Mencia de Mendoza.
"Where is Susanna? Maria Anna."
Tony sent it, wondering who on earth Susanna might be and how she was involved in all of this. Code? None of his business, he told himself sternly.
****
Johann Rudolf Wettstein looked at the gathered city council of Basel and thought, the whole lot of you have gone utterly insane. What he said was, "Gentlemen, I am not persuaded that the course of action suggested by my honored colleague is the most prudent one that the city could adopt. Certainly not without full prior consultation with the other cantons."
Of course, he had notified the council of the arrival of Archduchess Maria Anna and her escort after he had safely seen them inside the walls of the USE embassy. He had not expected-really, really, had not expected-that any member of the city council would suggest holding the archduchess hostage as a pawn in negotiations to obtain Austria's legal recognition of the independence of the Swiss Confederacy from th
e Habsburgs. Not that independence wasn't a laudable goal. He fully intended to work toward it himself. It was one of the things that, he hoped, could be achieved in any final peace treaty when the current war finally dragged to an exhausted close.
He had expected even less that once the nitwit had suggested interning the archduchess, or at the very least preventing her from leaving Basel, the council would surround the USE embassy. Nor that now, the next morning, the entire small council with both mayors and the two guild chairmen would actually be sitting here, discussing it seriously rather than immediately dropping it into the cesspit of bad ideas where it belonged. The council had been called into session at dawn. Now, at noon, there was a motion on the floor. The fools were considering trying it. They were actually considering trying it.
****
Lee Swiger looked at the special edition of the Basel newspaper. It had what amounted to a glaring black headline by down-time journalistic standards: eighteen point type across two columns of the front page.
Nobody knew who had leaked. Somebody, without the slightest doubt, had leaked. Suspicion lay in the direction of the Basel city council. It simply had too many members for successful secret-keeping.
Archduchess Maria Anna in
USE Embassy in Basel.
Wife of Admiral Simpson and
Wife of Grantville Mayor with Her.
Future Plans Unannounced.
Since the Basel newspaper had it, that meant that every stringer in the city would have sent out a copy of this, plus whatever gossip he could pick up, to his own paper. Which meant that the shit had hit the fan.
The other two columns of the front page had a considerably smaller headline.