"But you might spare me an hour, perhaps?"
They went down the stairs, Jobst Müller's buckled shoes producing on the polished boards a dull descending scale of disapproval. The astronomer thought of his schooldays: now you are for it, Kepler. Barbara awaited them in the dining room. Johannes grimly noted the bright look in her eye. She knew the old boy had tackled him, they were in it together. She had been experimenting with her hair the night before (it had fallen out in great swatches after the birth of their first child), and now as they entered she whipped off the protective net, and a frizz of curls sprang up from her forehead. Johannes fancied he could hear them crackling.
"Good morning, my dear," he said, and showed her his teeth.
She touched her curls nervously. "Papa wants to speak to you."
Johannes took his place opposite her at the table. "I know." These chairs, old Italian pieces, part of Barbara's dowry, were too tall for him, he had to stretch to touch his toes to the floor. Still, he liked them, and the other pieces, the room itself; he was fond of carved wood and old brick and black ceiling beams, all suchlike sound things, which, even if they were not strictly his own, helped to hold his world together.
"Johannes has agreed to grant me an hour of his valuable time, " Jobst Müller said, filling himself a mug of small ale. Barbara bit her lip.
"Um," said Kepler. He knew what the subject would be. Ulrike the servant girl came paddling in with their breakfast on a vast tray. The guest from Mühleck partook of a boiled egg. Johannes was not hungry. His innards were in uproar this morning. It was a delicate engine, his gut, and the weather and Jobst Müller were affecting it. "Damned bread is stale," he muttered. Ulrike, in the doorway, threw him a look.
"Tell me, " said his father-in-law, "is there sign of the Stiftsschule, ah, reopening?"
Johannes shrugged.
"The Archduke," he said vaguely; "you know."
Barbara thrust a smoking platter at him. "Take some brat-wurst, Johann," she said. "Ulrike has made your favourite cream sauce." He stared at her, and she hastily withdrew the plate. Her belly was so big now she had to lean forward from the shoulders to reach the table. For a moment he was touched by her sad ungainly state. He had thought her beautiful when she was carrying their first. He said morosely:
"I doubt it will be opened while he still rules." He brightened. "They say he has the pox, mind; if that puts paid to him there will be hope. "
"Johannes!"
Regina came in, effecting a small but palpable adjustment in the atmosphere. She shut the big oak door behind her with elaborate care, as if she were assembling part of the wall. The world was built on too large a scale for her. Johannes could sympathise.
"Hope of what?" Jobst Müller mildly enquired, scooping a last bit of white from his egg. He was all smoothness this morning, biding his time. The ale left a faint moustache of dried foam on his lip. He was to die within two years.
"Eh?" Kepler growled, determined to be difficult. Jobst Müller sighed.
"You said there would be hope if the Archduke were to… pass on. Hope of what, may we ask?"
"Hope of tolerance, and a little freedom in which folk may practise their faith as conscience bids them." Ha! that was good. Jobst Müller had gone over to the papists in the last outbreak of Ferdinand's religious fervour, while Johannes had held fast and suffered temporary exile. The old boy's smoothness developed a ripple, it ran along his clenchedjaw and tightened the bloodless lips. He said:
"Conscience, yes, conscience is fine for some, for those who imagine themselves so high and mighty they need not bother with common matters, and leave it to others to feed and house them and their families. "
Johannes put down his cup with a tiny crash. It was franked with the Müller crest. Regina was watching him.
"I am still paid my salary. " His face, which had been waxen with suppressed rage, reddened. Barbara made a pleading gesture, but he ignored her. "I am held in some regard in this town, you know. The councillors-aye and the Archduke himself-acknowledge my worth, even if others do not."
Jobst Müller shrugged. He had gathered himself into a crouch, a rat ready to fight. For all his dandified ways he gave off a faint tang of unwashed flesh.
"Fine manner they have of showing their appreciation, then, " he said, "driving you out like a common criminal, eh?"
Johannes tore with his teeth at a crust of bread. "I ward addowed do-" he swallowed mightily "-I was allowed to return within the month. I was the only one of our people thus singled out."
Jobst Müller permitted himself another faint smile. "Perhaps," he said, with silky emphasis, "the others did not have the Jesuits to plead for them? Perhaps their consciences would not allow them to seek the help of that Romish guild?"
Kepler's brow coloured again. He said nothing, but sat, throbbing, and glared at the old man. There was a lull. Barbara sniffed. "Eat your sausage, Regina," she said softly, sorrowfully, as if the child's fastidious manner of eating were the secret cause of all this present distress. Regina pushed her plate away, carefully.
"Tell me,"Jobst Müller said, still crouched, still smiling, "what is this salary that the councillors continue to pay you for not working?" As if he did not very well know.
"I do not see-"
"They have reduced it, papa, " Barbara broke in eagerly. "It was two hundred florins, and now they have taken away twenty-five!" It was her way, when talking against the tide of her husband's rage, to close her eyes under fluttering lids so as not to see his twitches, that ferocious glare. Jobst Müller nodded, saying:
"That is not riches, no. "
"Yes, papa."
"Still, you know, two hundred monthly…"
Barbara's eyes flew open.
"Monthly?" she shrieked. "But papa, that is per !"
"What!"
It was a fine playacting they were doing.
"Yes, papa, yes. And if it were not for my own small income, and what you send us from Mühleck, why-"
"Be quiet!" Johannes snarled.
Barbara jumped. "O!" A tear squeezed out and rolled upon her plump pink cheek. Jobst Müller looked narrowly at his son-in-law.
"I have a right, surely, to hear how matters stand?" he said. "It is my daughter, after all. "
Johannes released through clenched teeth a high piercing sound that was half howl, half groan.
"I will not have it!" he cried, "I will not have this in my own house."
"Yours?" Jobst Müller oozed.
"O papa, stop," Barbara said.
Kepler pointed at them both a trembling finger. "You will kill me," he said, in the strained tone of one to whom a great and terrible knowledge has just come. "Yes, that's what you will do, you'll kill me, between you. It's what you want. To see my health broken. You would be happy. And then you and this your spawn, who plays at being my lady wife-" too far, you go too far "-can pack off back to Mühleck, I know."
"Calm yourself, sir," Jobst Müller said. "No one here wishes you harm. And pray do not sneer at Mühleck, nor the revenues it provides, which may yet prove your saving when the duke next sees fit to banish you, perhaps for good!"
Johannes gave a little jerk to the reins of his plunging rage.
Had he heard the hint of a deal there? Was the old goat working himself up to an offer to buy back his daughter? The idea made him angrier still. He laughed wildly.
"Listen to him, wife," he cried; "he is more jealous for his estates than he is for you! I may call you what I like, but I am not to soil the name of Mühleck by having it on my lips."
"I will defend my daughter, young man, by deeds, not words."
"Your daughter, your daughter let me tell you, needs no defending. She is seven-and-twenty and already she has put two husbands in their graves-and is working well on a third. " O, too far!