1634: The Bavarian Crisis: Chapter Fifty Two

PART VII

September-October, 1634

    [NOTE TO ERIC: EARLIER IN THE MANUSCRIPT, I LEFT DON FERNANDO FOR YOU TO WRITE. HERE, THOUGH, WHEN HE IS ACTUALLY INTERACTING WITH MARIA ANNA ET AL., AT THE END, I NEED SOMETHING ON HIM, SO I WROTE HIM. IF HE DOESN’T MATCH YOUR VISION, YOU ARE OF COURSE WELCOME TO CHANGE HIM.]

Headquarters of Fernando, King in the Low Countries, outside Amsterdam

    Don Fernando’s entire privy council had spent the previous evening discussing the question that Maria Anna had sent from Basel. Should she try to escape again? If so, which way should she go?

    “We have to get one of the radios in Brussels.” His Majesty, still ordinarily addressed as Your Highness or simply as Don Fernando by his staff, got up from the table. “I feel as pinned to this camp by Frederik Hendrik’s radio as a butterfly must feel pinned to a display board in a cabinet of natural curiosities. I should go back to Brussels. For work, to Tante Isabella Clara Eugenia. Yet I remain here, waiting for the latest message that they deign to share with me. I can’t bear to be a hundred twenty miles away from their radio. My secretary must talk to the Jesuits at Loyola University of the North as soon as possible.”

    “The up-time words,” Cardinal Bedmar said, “are ‘information junkie.’”

    Don Fernando scowled at him. “Where is everybody else?” he asked.

    “You’re early.”

    “When I arrive, it’s time to start.”

    “Your Highness, you are pacing.”

    “Well, of course I am pacing. I have made a decision and I need to tell them about it.”

    Eventually the remainder of his council made their way into the conference room. [NOTE TO ERIC: I’M SURE THAT YOU’RE GOING TO WANT TO REVISE THIS CHAPTER. YOU’RE ALSO GOING TO HAVE TO INSERT NAMES AND CHARACTERISTICS HERE, SINCE I DON’T KNOW WHO YOU PLAN TO HAVE SURROUNDING DON FERNANDO FOR PURPOSES OF “THE BALTIC WAR.” FOR THE TIME BEING I’M JUST LEAVING THEM PRETTY WELL ANONYMOUS, DESCRIBED BY TITLE, AND WRITING SOME CONVERSATION TO GET A GENERAL SENSE OF THE WAY THE DECISION PLAYS OUT.] Don Fernando took his seat at the head of the table, looked at them, and asked a question. “What was the deciding event in the rise of the Habsburg dynasty?”

    “Your Highness?” the treasurer said.

    “When you look at our history, what one event turned a family of minor south German and Austrian nobility into a dynasty that ruled much of the continent of Europe? What captured people’s imagination?”

    “Emperor Maximilian’s ride?” his secretary suggested tentatively.

    “Very good, Miguel,” Don Fernando answered. “A hundred fifty years ago. Now, where did Maximilian ride, and why?”

    “Across the continent, from Austria to the Netherlands, to save his fiancee, Mary of Burgundy, from being forced to marry the French king,” the secretary answered.

    “If you will pardon me, Your Highness,” the treasurer said, “I do not believe that I care for the direction in which this discussion is moving.”

    “I know that I do not,” the military adviser said.

    Don Fernando ignored them. “Now,” he gestured dramatically, “at another crucial juncture for our dynasty, I face a problem similar to that of my great-great-great grandfather.”

    “Is that the right number of greats?” the secretary muttered under his breath as he took notes.

    “Of course it’s the right number of greats,” Don Fernando answered. “If there is anything our tutors insist that we learn, it is the family’s genealogy.”

    “Very well. Three greats.”

    Don Fernando cleared his throat. “Do not try to distract me. Archduchess Maria Anna is besieged in Basel.”

    “Not,” his military adviser muttered, “by the French.”

    Don Fernando waved his hand. “A mere bagatelle. She would probably be besieged by the French if it were not for the fact that the king of Sweden has Louis XIII’s few remaining forces fully occupied. In any case, being besieged by Bernhard of Saxe-Weimar is an adequate substitute. In no way will I let him get custody of her. Therefore, obviously, a mad romantic dash to save my bride is clearly in order.”

    Don Fernando’s military adviser buried his face in his hands, moaning dramatically.

    “That will take quite a while,” Cardinan Bedmar pointed out. “It is over four hundred miles.”

    “Not to mention a few problems in the way. From a military standpoint, that is-not just pure transportation.”

    Don Fernando waved his hand. “Time is of the essence,” he proclaimed. “My plans will be turned upside down if either Duke Bernhard or the Basel city council get their paws on my bride. In Bernhard’s case, unfortunately, that might be a quite literal description of the outcome and the political complications would be really distressing.”

    “You cannot just wave your hand and make the either the distance or the problems go away, Your Majesty.”

    “No,” Don Fernando said. “He beamed at them. However, the solution came to me while I slept.”

    “Whatever it is,” the treasurer began. He had become all too familiar with his ruler’s moments of inspiration, “it is too risky.”

    “Now there’s a comprehensive warning,” Don Fernando said. “However, now that we have a treaty with the Swede....”

    “Yes, he may give us free passage through Mainz and the Palatinate, through the parts of the Rhine that he holds,” the military adviser responded. “But that still does not mean that we can move enough men, fast enough, to dislodge Bernhard from the position his army has taken up north of the Swiss border. Not even if we could afford to remove them from the Netherlands for that long.”

    “No, no,” Don Fernando said airily. “That is not the plan.”

    The military adviser was beginning to get that sinking feeling in his stomach that came all too often when he dealt with his commander-in-chief.

    “I shall speak to Frederik Hendrik today,” Don Fernando said, “and see if he can arrange for us to borrow one of the marvellous airplanes. And a pilot, of course. Then I shall simply fly over the heads of all these obstacles, save Maria Anna from the bunch of villainous dastards, bring her back her to the Netherlands, and once again capture the imagination of all Europe. Just think of the songs. The poems. The Harlequin romances.”

    “Oh,” his military adviser said. “Dear God, no!”

    “Oh,” Don Fernando answered. “Oh, yes.”

 

---

 

---

 

Amsterdam

    “If he marries an Austrian Habsburg archduchess,” Rebecca said, “the bona fides of what amounts to the new dynasty he will create will be impeccable. And if he rescues her from the clutches of Bernhard of Saxe-Weimar, even the Habsburgs will have a face-saving way to agree to it. I certainly cannot imagine that the Habsburgs would ever consider accepting the marriage of one of their archduchesses to a heretic upstart-which, in their view, Bernhard most certainly is.”

    [NOTE TO ERIC: I INTENTIONALLY HAVE MADE REBECCA SAY THIS HERE, ALTHOUGH BACK IN THE “INTERLUDE,” I SHOW THE HABSBURGS SPECULATING ON THIS TOPIC RATHER DIFFERENTLY. NOT EVEN NATIONAL SECURITY ADVISERS ARE INFALLIBLE.]

    “If he goes off to rescue her, it certainly would be cutting the Gordian knot for him,” Mike mused.

    “No. He cut the knot when he signed the treaty. But he has to make it work. It is this planned marriage that really makes the treaty and the new title of ‘king in the Low Countries’ feasible for him. Without it, his brother is almost certain to offer far more strenuous opposition. And with Maria Anna as his wife, he can perhaps tell his Austrian Habsburg relatives to ‘take a hike,’ too. The Austrians can’t do anything about it. The Spanish Habsburgs don't begin to have the military strength to force Don Fernando to do anything, any more. They cannot dictate to him. But if he marries Maria Anna, they can all pretend that they don’t need to.”

    “Which brings us back,” Frederik Hendrik said, “to this astounding request. Will Gustavus Adolphus agree?”

    “The air force,” Mike said, “is not directly an arm of the USE military establishment. It was the air force of the New United States, with Captain Gars as its captain-general. As of now, it is the air force of the State of Thuringia-Franconia. Also still with Captain Gars as its captain-general.”

    “Didn’t you once say something to Ed Piazza about how come Thuringia-Franconia was conducting an independent foreign policy?” Rebecca asked. “I think you have mentioned that to me. If you question that, how do you justify that it has its own military policy?”

    “The constitutional situation,” Mike replied blandly, “is still somwhat amorphous. Ambiguous. Ambivalent. Lots of useful things. In any case, I can request the services of Jesse Wood and a Gustav from both Captain Gars and from Ed Piazza. One of them is sure to agree.”

 

---

 

    The negotiations involved a great deal of risk assessment. Not just the obvious risk that the plane might fall out of the air. Neither Don Fernando nor his advisers really minded that. He would not be in more danger of falling out of the air than he would be of dying in a military action on the ground. Those things were in the hands of God.

    No. There were other risks. They had to negotiate the plane’s point of departure and where it would arrive. Nobody mentioned the Saint Bartholomew’s day massacre out loud, but it was certainly at the back of almost everyone’s mind. That, too, had involved a treaty, a wedding, Catholics and Calvinists. There were still those who called for revenge, a half-century later. Might the Dutch use this device to entice Don Fernando into their clutches? If he landed in the midst of General Horn’s army, which would be necessary, would the Swede’s men allow him to leave again? Would they wait until he rescued Maria Anna from Basel and then hold them both? Don Fernando’s diplomats were nervous.

    Except for Cardinal Bedmar. Since he realized, with some resignation, that his master was going to get into an airplane and fly off in the company of one of Gustavus Adolphus’s pilots, he concentrated on making it happen. At least, the “Gustav” plane that the up-timers suggested could carry four persons, rather than only two. The pilot said that on the trip out, Don Fernando could be accompanied by two aides. Bodyguards, if one wanted to think of them that way, as long as they were fairly small ones. Bedmar was sitting in his chair studying a “cheat sheet” on cargo capacity.

    At that point, somebody started talking about a chaperone for the archduchess. Rebecca sighed, remembering that the men around Don Fernando were, after all, mostly Spanish rather than from the Netherlands or Germany, where women had so much more freedom of movement.

    “You could,” Mike was saying to Don Fernando, “rescue Mary Simpson and Veronica Dreeson at the same time. Since you’re going to be in the neighborhood, so to speak. Mary Simpson could fly back with Maria Anna as duenna, since the you seem think it is necessary. She will be wanting to rejoin her husband, in any case, and he is working up at Harlingen, now. Not to mention, of course, that she is probably aching to visit the Netherlands and recruit a few artists. Vacuum up as many as she can, and at least meet the others, even if they don’t agree to move to Magdeburg. She would give her eyeteeth to talk to Rembrandt, for example. Horn could arrange to get Ronnie back to Grantville.”

    Bedmar pursed his lips. Don Fernando had not cared for the aspect of the treaty that led to Simpson’s presence in Harlingen. He was building a naval base. Gustavus Adolphus, of course, possessed those three northernmost Dutch provinces, Friesland, Groningen, and Drenthe, as a result of his successful summer offensive. Possession had been one thing; legal acknowledgment of that possession in a treaty was something else. The USE called it their “Danzig Corridor” into the Zuider Zee. Don Fernando had not had to give up anything he held; indeed, not anything that he had ever held. Looked at one way, the treaty had simply formalized the situation-and the USE had actually returned some lands as a compensation. But it always hurt a Habsburg to give up a land claim. Any land claim.

 

---

 

    “I would like to remind you,” someone began.

    Bedmar looked up from his “cheat sheet.” That was the pilot, Colonel Wood was his name. He had been at Harlingen and had come down to Amsterdam in a truck. Bedmar had enjoyed inspecting the truck; it was not quite like the one that had brought his sister from Amberg to Brussels, but very interesting.

    “I would like to remind you that the carrying capacity is limited. We have agreed to your stipulation that His Majesty be accompanied by two military aides on the flight to Basel. However, if I have the archduchess and Mrs. Simpson in the plane on the return flight, that means that the aides will have to remain with General Horn and make their own way back to the Netherlands by more traditional means.”

    More technicalities followed.

    “Landing fields,” Colonel Wood was saying. “No, I have no problem with flying out of a field prepared inside Don Fernando’s lines. Obviously, I can’t fly out of Amsterdam itself. There’s no room to take off or land. Pick a place; these are the minimum specs for a grass-surfaced field. We’ll convoy the fuel in from Harlingen; there’s a stockpile there now. Refuel at Mainz, both ways. The field there is reliable. And have somebody prepare a field at the other end. Which means on the German side of the border. I have a feeling that the city of Basel isn’t going to lay out a landing strip for me. The land on that side of the river is pretty hilly, anyway.”

    Mike looked at Rebecca.

    “I am sure,” she said, “that Gustavus Adolphus will be willing to direct General Horn to move into place and prepare a landing field. Do you have a preference as to location, Colonel Wood?”

    “He’ll find a suitable spot somewhere near Rheinfelden. I’ll give him the coordinates.”

    “How do you know?” Don Fernando asked.

    “There was a huge air force base at Rheinfelden, up-time. I flew in and out of it more than once.”

Swabia

    “It is a direct order, General.”

    Gustav Horn looked at the message with distaste. “I know. Is Gustavus Adolphus aware that if I move my forces to Rheinfelden, I will be confronting Bernhard directly? Something that I have worked very hard to avoid?”

    “He must be of the opinion that in this case, the gain is worth the risk.”

    “Bernhard may try to force a battle. He is that kind of an opportunist.”

    “It is a direct order from the king, General.”

    “I know. Give the orders to move. First priority to the miners, sappers, engineers, and anyone else who may be able to assist with the preparation of this ‘emergency landing field.’ Cavalry ahead; dragoons. Infantry and baggage train to follow as fast as they may. I had not been planning to go into winter quarters on the Swiss border, but it looks as though I may have to, if we cannot pull out before autumn changes to winter. And Knut...”

    “Yes, General.”

    “Start drawing up contingency plans for a fighting retreat, if need be.”

    “Fuel convoys are already starting from both Mainz and Grantville, in the general direction of Rheinfelden. Once we know exactly where the army will be located after the advance forces arrive there-once we know where the landing field will be, that is-we will need to notify them. The hope is that at least one of them will arrive soon enough to refuel Colonel Woods’ plane for take-off as soon as Don Fernando’s party arrives from Basel with the ladies. Weather permitting, of course.”

    Horn grimaced. “Then send the radio and its operator with the advance forces. And tell the king that you have done so. That way, he will stop using it to send me orders. Because he will have to. Until I catch up with it, at least. And Knut...”

    “Yes, General.”

    “Start drawing up contingency plans for what to do if the fuel does not arrive. Or if the weather holds the plane on the ground and we have to stand Bernhard off for a week or more.” Gustav Horn was a pessimistic man.

 

---

 

    “Would you like to see the radio?” Rebecca asked. “You could hand the message to the operator yourself.”

    “I would, very much,” Don Fernando replied. He looked around the table. “However, I do not think my advisers want me to come into Amsterdam right now. Not, at least, without a rather substantial company of bodyguards.”

    Rebecca glanced at Frederik Hendrik. “Would you mind?” she asked.

    “Oh, no, not at all. What are a few Spanish troops in Amsterdam, after all?”

    There may have been some sarcasm underlying the Stadholder’s statement, but Rebecca chose to take it at face value.

    “It would be also interesting,” Don Fernando said rather wistfully, “to see the famous Gretchen Richter. The Trojan amazon. Unfortunately, I did not get to see her when we signed the treaty at Frederik Hendrik’s headquarters. I have seen Rubens’ painting of her, you know. In fact, I have purchased a copy of it from his studio for my office in Brussels.”

    “Er,” Mike said in a rather strangled voice. “Why?”

    Don Fernando looked at him calmly. “As a reminder that if I do not succeed, she is waiting.” He smiled. “And, of course, she has a very impressive bosom.”

 

---

 

    Thus all of them, Frederik Hendrik, Mike and Rebecca, Gretchen and Jeff, managed to crowd into the radio room and watch Don Fernando send out his reply to Maria Anna.

    “Most honored cousin. Stay put. I’m coming. Be there day after tomorrow. Fernando”