Grantville Gazette, Volume 40 (28 page)

Episode 1: Plans

Jagdschloss of the duke of Sachsen-Eisenach, Marksuhl, Thuringia

March 1634

"Maximilian von Pasqualini," the servant announced loudly.

Max, a young architect, straightened and entered the salon. An elderly man rose from a heavy chair behind an enormous work desk. Max knew this had to be Johann Ernst, Hereditary Governor of West Thuringia, but his clothes didn't show his high status. He wore simple black trousers and a white shirt, the sleeves rolled up. He was just taking off his spectacles; he had obviously been reading in a book.

Max bowed. "
Hoheit
." Highness was the proper honorific when addressing a German duke. Max didn't much care for this new
Excellency
title the governor deserved. And he had heard that he liked his old mode of address more.

The duke extended his right hand. "My dear young friend, it's a pleasure to meet you at last."

Max was surprised by the unconventional greeting from such a high noble, but managed to shake the duke's hand without hesitating too long.

"Please take a seat." The duke indicated another heavy chair in front of the work desk and sat down on his own again. "Hans, please bring us something to drink! My young friend here prefers a good beer, and bring me a
Köstritzer
, too." The servant nodded and left the room.

Max wondered how the duke knew his favorites. But he probably had spies in Grantville, like many other nobles.

While the duke put the books and papers—which covered most of the desk's surface—aside, Max could settle down and remember what had brought him here. He received the duke's first letter last October, which had told him that the duke had heard about his work in Grantville. Max had done the construction plans for some of the new factory buildings that had been erected in the last two years.

The duke wrote that he wanted a reconstruction of his Wartburg after the flaming inferno the Americans had wreaked in 1632, and he had asked if Max felt in the position to create some plans. He also wrote that he didn't want a new fortress, but a center of culture as the Wartburg had been in the Middle Ages.

Everybody here in Thuringia knew about the
Sängerkrieg
, a medieval epic poem describing a song contest in the thirteenth century. And Saint Elizabeth of Thuringia had spent most of her short adult life from her wedding at the age of fourteen in the Wartburg.

But the best-known anecdote was indubitably the story of Junker Jörg. This was Martin Luther's alias when he spent nearly a year in the castle, translating the New Testament into German. The legend said that he drove off Satan himself by throwing an inkpot at him.

The LutherRoom had been devastated, along with the complete interior of the castle. Max had nearly burst into tears when he had seen the black ruins for the first time a year ago.

"
Hoheit
, you asked me to look for the great architects of the future. I spent many days and nights in the libraries last winter, and developed some plans based on their works." Max took the large scroll of paper which protruded from a bag he had worn on his back and laid it flat on the desk.

"I'd like to start with Antoni Gaudí, a Spaniard who has built—will build—would have built a cathedral called the
Sagrada Família
, the Holy Family in Barcelona." Max showed a sketch he had drawn based on the existing foundation walls of the Wartburg. A multitude of slender round towers framed a large center building which looked like a gothic cathedral.

"Oh no, Max. I certainly want to have a church integrated in the New Wartburg, but this is more a reminiscence of the Middle Ages and not of the future."

"Okay, the next is based on the rebuild of the
Reichstag
in Berlin, done by an Englishman called Norman Foster at the end of the twentieth century." The entry to the area showed a triangular roof, supported by six round columns like the eight columns of the Parthenon in Athens. The center was a single large building with little statues on the roof all along the edges and a glass dome in the middle. "I'm not sure if we can already build something like this glass dome, but without it, the whole building looks too massive.

"Here I have something from America." A big round tower was the center of the area which widened to the top. The windows went up in a spiral and the roof was made from glass, another round tower next to it was completely covered with glass. Both towers were connected by a walkway on the first floor.

"Max, I think we cannot use so many glass surfaces. I don't know how these Americans managed to keep the winter out of their buildings, but I heard the climate will change in the next centuries. And what is this?"

"Oh sorry, it's just a little study I made, when I did the investigations. It's a private mansion, also done by the American Frank Lloyd Wright who designed the Guggenheim Museum, which was the inspiration for the previous model. It's called Falling Water, and I rather fell in love with it." Max began to stuff the sketch back in his bag, but the duke stopped him.

"Oh, we should definitely show this sketch to the duchess. My wife will love it too. And
if
we have any money left after the Wartburg, perhaps . . ." The duke's eyes stared into the distance through the walls.

And so it went on the whole afternoon. They only stopped when Hans, the servant, quietly switched on the electric light in the room, and then announced "
Hoheit
, the dinner is ready."

The duke rose and stretched himself. "Is it so late? Come on, Max, I shall introduce you to the rest of my household."

****

The duke's wife welcomed Max and the duke into the dining room. Christine von Hessen-Kassel was twelve years younger than the duke's sixty-eight and an aunt of the current
Landgraf
Wilhelm von Hessen-Kassel. Max had already heard of her vast knowledge in mathematics, history, astronomy and astrology and was very keen to make her acquaintance. He had also heard that she had become rather deaf in the last years, so he prepared to speak a little louder.

"Christine, you
must
look at the marvelous drawings young Max did," the duke shouted excitedly, kissing his wife's cheeks. "He did a very good job with his selections of up-time architects."

The look she gave Max made him a little uncertain. Was that appreciation or something different? "Please, Johann, don't shout." She pointed to her ear, where Max could see a little device with a wire which ran to her back. "This new hearing aid has cost you a little fortune, so rest your voice."

Max saw the man behind the duchess flinch. The duke obviously noted that, too. "Max, may I introduce you to Samuel Nasi, my financial advisor?" The small, portly man with slightly oriental features and enormous mustachios nodded solemnly. Max nodded in return. This was apparently a member of the Jewish family which played such a big role in the financial management of the Ottoman Empire.

The fact that he would also participate in the dinner told Max something about this man's integration into the duke's family and the open-mindedness of the duke. It was not customary to have one's court Jew attend a family meal.

But the duke seemed to be an unconventional man, anyway.

So was the meal, at least on the dinner table of a duke. They had fish, mashed potatoes and sauerkraut. When Max looked quizzically to Samuel Nasi, the Jew seemed to read his thoughts. "Oh yes, it's
kosher
. My wife is a very good cook, who has learned to combine the
kashrut
with the German kitchen very well."

The duke added, "I heard that the Americans were accustomed to call us Germans patronizingly
Krauts
, and that derives from sauerkraut, but according to their doctors, you can eat nothing healthier in the winter."

****

After dinner they met in another salon and had a cup of coffee. Yes, good connections to Turkey had their benefits.

Now, Max had to answer a lot of questions about himself and his family.

"Oh yes, the famous Alessandro was my great-grandfather. No, I can't affirm the rumor that he worked with Leonardo da Vinci, but our family legend tells that he drew many of the plans when Raffaelo was chief architect at Saint Peter's in Rome."

"When I was eight, I spent a whole year with Uncle Johann in Koblenz, where he directed the construction on the Ehrenbreitstein Fortress. I remember him always telling me how exact my drawings were. That was when I really fell in love with sketching castles."

"No, I never attended a school. I had private teachers for the standard courses, and Papa and Uncle Johann taught me engineering and mathematics and dragged me to all their construction sites. Apart from the actual manual labor it was a real apprenticeship."

"Yes, it was a big shock when Uncle Johann died in 1615 and then Papa in 1623. Mama had no other choice than to send me to Bologna."

"Oh, I just was in Nürnberg on my way home in June 1631, when I heard about Grantville and went straight there. I had still enough money left, so I could attend some courses in physics, mathematics, chemistry and geology. They paid me for teaching Italian and technical drawing."

"When I learned that no real up-time architect had been caught in the Ring of Fire, I offered my services to the construction companies. I planned many factory buildings and some multi-family residential buildings."

"I needed about one tenth of a second before I decided to accept the duke's offer. To draw the next factory does not compare to designing the cultural center of Germany. It's a once-in-a-lifetime job, and I'm very, very grateful that you chose me."

****

After the cup of coffee, Samuel Nasi retired to his family who lived in another of the several buildings of the
Jagdschloss
.

"Max," the duke continued. "I hope you are satisfied with your guest room?"

"Oh yes,
Hoheit
. Hans has done a very good job stowing away all my baggage, and the bed is very comfortable."

"It's an original American king size. I can't—yet—offer you all the comforts of Grantville here. Indoor plumbing in this little town will take a while, and I have other priorities at the moment. But we have at least installed electric light in some of the rooms, and you will have a wonderful view of the Wartburg in the morning.

"But there is another issue I must touch upon." He rose from his armchair and sat down on the couch next to his wife. The duchess had been very silent since they had met before dinner, but Max had a feeling that she scrutinized him when he wasn't looking. He hoped the result would be positive.

The duke seized his wife's hand and looked into her eyes. She looked back with an approving smile.

"There is one precondition for our working together. Max, I want—" He interrupted himself and once more gazed into his wife's eyes. She nodded.

"
We
want you to give us an heir, Maximiliane von Pasqualini."

****

The world collapsed around Max.

It was a world she had carefully built up, since that night when she had just turned eighteen.

It was her first masque on the court in Jülich. The very handsome
Freiherr
Paul von Sonnenberg with his oh-so-beautiful blue eyes and blond hair, asked her to go for a walk. It was a tidal wave of emotions. She never had believed that an average-looking girl like her would attract the attention of such a good-looking young man.

And then Paul kissed her and touched her and—

One hour later he told her that, of course, he was married and, of course, he didn't intend a serious relationship with the daughter of a tax collector from that little town in the backyard of the duchy.

She knew that was the end of her parents' plans of marrying their daughter—the only surviving child—to one of the higher, if needier, nobility around. Her father was
not
a simple tax collector. The office of the
Schlüter
was more something like a financial manager for the whole district of Uedem. And his reputation as architect, together with the history of her family in the duchy of Jülich-Kleve-Berg, had offered the opportunity for such a connection more than once in the last century.

But now she was spoiled for such an opportunity. How could she tell her parents? What if she even got pregnant? Why had she been so, so,
thoughtless
?

Before she managed to pluck up the courage to tell them, her father suddenly died. He was the one big support she had had in her life. Her mother, the delicate lady from Brabant, could not understand her fate and the world and especially her wild and untamed daughter. Her mother had been the one who had urged her to attend the masque. What would she think about the outcome?

No, there was only one single possibility left that Max could think of. And somehow it really fitted into the plans she had made in the last years.

Maximiliane von Pasqualini left Uedem to live with her relatives in Bologna, carrying her mother's firm belief that they could manage to get her a husband. Her long curly dark hair flew behind her as she rode off with a merchant's caravan.

Maximilian von Pasqualini arrived in Bologna some time later, a young man with short dark hair, showing excellent certificates from his private teachers—it had not been difficult to remove the little "e."