Dona Mencia, was, it had to be said, dozing. Perhaps even sleeping-certainly, her chin had dropped somewhat, although it would have been unkind to describe her breathing as a snore. Don Fernando's secretary, making the most of an autumn evening in the Netherlands, was writing at his desk in the back of the room, next to the windows that faced onto the street.
"Shall we walk along the terraces?" Fernando asked.
"That would be nice. It seems to have stopped raining." Maria Anna picked up her shawl.
The first traverse along the arcades, which covered almost a quarter of a mile facing the gardens, was devoted to the day's events. At the end, they noted that Dona Mencia still appeared content, while the secretary had lit a lamp to supplement the fading light of the sun.
The second traverse through the colonnades was devoted to Don Fernando's request for an update on the escape from Bavaria and Maria Anna's intervening adventures, along with what they might mean. "Somewhat more open than you have felt it possible to give me when a half dozen other people were listening," he specified.
"I had a lot of time to think," Maria Anna said. "Walking and riding for so many weeks, that is almost all that I did. Think and pray. My information is not good, of course. I really only know what I read in the newspapers, so you must forgive me if some of my premises are incorrect."
"Of course," Fernando said. "That is understood."
"The most important for us, in the long run, should be that there were two betrayals this summer-the one at Ingolstadt against Duke Maximilian and then that by Bernhard of Saxe-Weimar against the French."
"You see them as linked?"
"Not in their origins, I believe. But in the way that the pamphleteers will show them. For both Colonel von Farensbach and Duke Bernhard were, at one time in the past, in the employ of the Swede-and the traitor Cratz von Scharffenstein has now done the same. Someone who does not see them as simple opportunists can discern a whole pattern, deeply laid, by which Gustav Adolf has been employing double agents, infiltrating them deeply into the councils of his opponents-the French, the Bavarians, our own. In the case of Farensbach, since his family is from the Baltic, a writer might well argue that the roots go far back in time, a decade or more before the Swede intervened in the German wars. Mary Simpson says that they called such writers 'conspiracy theorists' up-time."
Fernando nodded.
"The most important reaction immediately, I think, will be in France. Duke Bernhard's action in opening the lines across from Mainz will give Monsieur Gaston and his supporters opportunities for endless publicity. Especially coming on top of the disaster this summer at Ahrensbok." She smiled. "I could almost write the pamphlets myself, if they employed me to do so. 'Bernhard's joining the French was a feint all along.' That would be the first section. Then, depending upon the pamphleteer's preference, either, 'Richelieu fell for it, which means that he is incompetent and must be replaced by a minister who will better serve Louis XIII,' or, 'Richelieu knew it all along, which means that he is a traitor, Louis XIII was duped by him, and he must be replaced by those who will serve the king more faithfully.' Either of those, of course, can be capped by a call to place Monsieur Gaston as his brother's chief minister, with Gaston's supporters filling the privy council."
What a keen mind, Fernando thought. How trenchant her observations are. How clear and to the point. How marvelously… political she is! He glanced down briefly. And a bosom, too.
They moved on to the question of more specifically family politics. Vienna, first; then Madrid.
"As things stand," Maria Anna said, "I believe that Ferdinand, my brother, will not expect to be able to call a Reichstag at any time soon. That may change, of course, once there is peace in the Germanies." She squeezed Fernando's arm. "I am so glad that you provided me with the copy of the alternate peace treaty draft that he is distributing. He has worked on it so hard and so long. We loved Papa so much, but he simply could not understand that things had to change now. Not so much would not as simply could not."
"I know the problem," Don Fernando said. "We find it in the Spanish branch of the family also, often enough."
"Without a diet, there is no way he can be elected as Holy Roman Emperor to succeed Papa. I do not think it likely that he will quietly just not be an emperor, however. We can read encyclopedias as well as anyone. Before I left Vienna, when Papa sent Ferdinand to inspect the defenses in Hungary, Mariana and I were already talking. I love Mariana; your sister is so darling and I am so glad that Ferdinand married her. But we were talking that if the Swede can simply name himself an 'emperor' in the Germanies, then there is no reason that Ferdinand should not be emperor of an 'Austro-Hungarian' empire as happened many years later in that other world. It would be a balance."
Fernando nodded again. "A very good balance."
"It also makes sense. Austria's primary responsibility will always be to hold against the Turks. Always. No matter what happens in the Germanies, Austria must look toward the Balkans."
"Perhaps," Fernando said, "some day he and I will meet with our armies and win a great victory. Not at Nordlingen against the Swede, as we did in that other world, but against the Ottomans. A united Habsburg initiative against the Turks, bringing Spain's resources into play on that front and thus reuniting the family."
"That would be wonderful. It is just too bad that Papa could not live to see such a victory," Maria Anna said rather wistfully. "Although, of course, he is in heaven with the saints and angels, so he will see it if it happens. But I know that Mariana had her confessor translate the parts about Nordlingen that we found in the encyclopedias, so maybe he had time to read those before he died. Maybe he knew, even if it won't happen the same way." She blinked. "But what about your brother?"
"The exact status of my relationship with my brother of Spain is unclear right now. 'Tense' is not adequate to describe the situation. But I bear him no ill will and I will attempt to demonstrate that in every way possible."
Fernando frowned. "Tante Isabella's old court physician was impossible. He attended her for years. The man was so obsessed with his hatred of the Jesuits that, as far as I can tell, he spent most of his time intriguing against them and had little time for medical practice. He left a legacy of that attitude to his successors. I have cleaned out the whole nest of them. I have also sent several shipments of cats, on different ships. Kittens sick with cat pox, pregnant females expecting kittens, all in the same cage. With letters to explain it all. Clearly, it was a dispensation of divine providence that the Spanish Netherlands is the core place in all of Europe where this remedy is to be found. Perhaps, this time, Balthasar Carlos will not die young, at least not of smallpox. My brother has to be concerned. He has too much sense not to be. We cannot let Spain fall to the French."
"Clearly," Maria Anna said, "the Habsburgs need more heirs. Healthy ones."
Fernando glanced down at her bosom again, his eyes lingering somewhat. "I will be quite happy," he said, "to devote my most vigorous efforts to siring a third, abundantly healthy, Habsburg family line."
Maria Anna looked at him. First down; then up at his face. "Your efforts to make this project sound like a prim dedication to familial duty are falling rather short." Then she added, rather mischievously, "Or, possibly, quite the reverse." She moved a little closer to him and tucked her hand into the crook of his elbow.