1634: The Bavarian Crisis: Chapter Thirteen

Familia Restorata

    The three women been debating the matter for several months. Their late brother, unlike themselves and their husbands, had remained in Amberg during the Bavarian occupation. He had converted, at least nominally, to Catholicism, as had his wife and children. As had their stepmother. After the plundering of Amberg, when they never heard from any of their brother’s family again, they had assumed that they were dead. And mourned.

    Until the Battle of Wismar. When the newspapers reported the family and relationships of the dead hero, Hans Richter. Then they had mourned Hans again. And argued with one another, what to do.

    Now, she was in the same city. Their stepmother, whom they had long thought to be dead.

    “Do you think,” Hanna asked, “that she will think that we come to see her now only because we, too, can claim a share of Papa’s property if she gets it?

    “Why are we going, if not for that?” Margaretha asked. She was the oldest.

    “Because our nephew and niece are suddenly famous, so we know who she is?” Clara suggested.

    “Or,” Hanna interjected, “because sister Elisabetha’s widower, Elias Brechbuhl, is an accountant. Here in Nürnberg, he has barely eked out a living, that is true. But he knows where a lot of the Upper Palatinate’s bodies are buried. Financially speaking, that is. I still think that it would be a good idea if Elias went with her. We can try to persuade her of that. Lorenz is willing that we should take Elisabetha’s children, if Elias goes.”

    Her sisters looked at her. Once upon a time, before the war, Hanna’s husband Lorenz Mossberger had served as chief clerk to an Amtmann. As an exile, he barely made enough to feed his children as a private notary, serving mainly the Calvinist community. His offer to take in three more children was very generous.

    Margaretha looked down uncomfortably. Her second husband, a prosperous shopkeeper and Nürnberg native, would have been much better placed to make such an offer. But he hadn’t made it. Nor had she suggested it to him.

    As the wagons headed back towards Nürnberg, their debate continued.

    Eventually, they reached consensus. This very evening, before she left the city, they would attempt to contact the woman who had once been married to their father, Johann Stephan Richter, and who was now married to the mayor of the notorious Grantville. She should at least be given the opportunity to meet her namesakes, the three little Veronicas. Only three, not four. There had been four little Veronicas once, but half of Elisabetha’s children had died.

    At worst, Hanna pointed out, she could only refuse to see them.

    By supper time, Veronica felt considerably restored. Naps were excellent things. She joined the rest of the Grantvillers for supper in the public room of the inn. Keith Pilcher was making a good story of the day’s adventures. Especially of his thoughts about plastic flamingoes.

    Veronica still thought that Maxine Pilcher’s philosophy of education was the height of foolishness. She was rather getting to like the woman’s husband, though.

    The host approached the table. “Gracious lady,” he said, addressing himself to the grandmother of the famous Hans Richter. He paused, waiting for her permission to continue. He had already expressed, several times, how profoundly he was honored by having the heroic pilot’s grandmother lodge at his establishment. Was he going to do it again? Veronica was on the verge of becoming annoyed.

    “There are three women here who ask to speak to you. They say that they are your stepdaughters. That they live as exiles in Nürnberg.”

    Veronica grasped the edge of the table with both hands. She needed the support. It was never safe to hope.

    “Please,” she said. “Please.” She was not sure whether she was addressing the petition to the innkeeper or to God. “Please ask them to come in.”