Back | Next
Contents

Chapter 1


Brussels, capital of the Netherlands
May 24, 1636


Once everyone who’d be attending this meeting of the inner circle of the Habsburg court in the Netherlands had arrived, King Fernando invited them to sit with a gesture of his hand. Most of them had already planted themselves on their chairs before he’d even completed the gesture. The young monarch could be a stickler for formality on some occasions, but meetings with his closest advisers were held as casually as could be expected.

Understanding, of course, that “as could be expected” was measured by the care and caution of Europe’s most powerful and long-lasting dynasty. The House of Habsburg had begun its rise six centuries earlier, founded by an obscure Swabian count named Radbot of Klettgau. He built his castle in a northerly portion of what would later become Switzerland and named it “Habsburg,” which eventually became the name of the dynasty itself. The origins of the name are unclear. The most commonly held belief was that the count named it after a hawk—Habicht, in German—which he spotted resting on one of the walls.

The Habsburgs did not rise as a result of quick and dramatic conquests. This was not a family with the perspective and temperament of Philip II of Macedon and his son Alexander the Great. Their preferred methods of advancement were, first and foremost, the making of advantageous marriages, combined with astute political alliances and obtaining positions for the family in the high ranks of the Catholic Church.

A bit over two centuries after Count Radbot’s death, the Habsburgs took their first major step toward European royal preeminence when Count Rudolf IV was elected the King of the Romans on October 1, 1273. The man who held the title was generally considered the future head of the Holy Roman Empire, although that depended on the approval of the pope. But the initial period was a shaky one for the Habsburgs. They were not able to retain the position and spent the fourteenth and the first part of the fifteenth century engaged in more or less constant quarrels and maneuvers with other prominent dynasties on the continent.

Withal, they continued to progress, preferably with their tried and trusted methods of marital, political and ecclesiastical alliances. And if they were not especially adept in the use of military methods, they weren’t all that bad at it, either. A coalition led by Rudolf defeated King Ottokar of Bohemia at the Battle of the Marchfeld on August 26, 1278. One of the outcomes of that battle was that the Habsburgs took possession of the duchies of Austria and Styria. In the centuries that followed, those duchies became the heart of Habsburg power and remained so until the final collapse of the dynasty in 1918, at the end of the First World War.

On March 19, 1452, Pope Nicholas V crowned Frederick III as the Holy Roman Emperor. The Habsburgs would retain that title in an unbroken line for the next three centuries, and reached the height of their power with the reign of Emperor Charles V in the first half of the sixteenth century. He was the single most powerful man in Europe since Charlemagne. After his death, the Habsburg dynasty split into two branches, the Austrian and the Spanish. Both of them remained among the major dynasties of Europe and usually cooperated with each other. The Austrian branch of the dynasty retained the title of Holy Roman Emperor.

Or rather . . . would have retained the title. But that was in another universe. In this one, created by the Ring of Fire and the arrival of the West Virginia town of Grantville in the year 1631, history had been changed.

Quite drastically. In the summer of 1634, Philip IV’s younger brother Fernando—known then as the Cardinal-Infante—succeeded in reconquering most of the Netherlands for Spain, with only two small provinces and the great city of Amsterdam holding out against him, in the siege that made Gretchen Richter famous across Europe. (Or notorious, depending on how you looked at it.) Fernando then made a settlement with the Protestant Prince of Orange, Frederik Hendrik, which reunited the Low Countries. He gave himself the title of “King in the Netherlands” and shortly thereafter married his cousin Maria Anna, an archduchess of Austria.

At about the same time, Maria Anna’s brother succeeded to the Austrian throne as King Ferdinand

III. He made no attempt to get elected as the new Holy Roman Emperor, a title which remained vacant thereafter. Instead, he gave himself the new title of Emperor of Austria-Hungary. For all practical purposes, the House of Hapsburg had now divided into three branches.

* * *

Such, then, was the nature of the casual invitation to sit which the King in the Netherlands extended to his close associates. Relaxed—not quite languid but close—but still Habsburg.

Next to him sat the queen, Maria Anna. In the course of the two years since their marriage, Fernando had come to rely heavily on her shrewd advice—which was almost as detached and pragmatic as that of the old woman who sat on Ferdinando’s left side.

She was his aunt, Isabella Clara Eugenia. The daughter of Philip II of Spain, she had ruled the Spanish Netherlands for two decades with her husband Archduke Albert of Austria and then another decade and a half following Albert’s death. She had relinquished her formal power to her nephew upon his coronation, but she remained extremely influential.

Those were the two women in the room, of the seven people present. The four male advisers of King Fernando consisted of:

The famous artist Peter Paul Rubens. Now in his late fifties, he was as accomplished and prominent a diplomat for the Habsburgs as he was a painter.

The king’s top military adviser, Miguel de Manrique. He had commanded the Spanish army that surrendered to the Americans at the Wartburg, and come close to being executed for it after his return to Spain. But Fernando, showing more acuity than his brother King Philip III’s advisers, had taken him for his own service, figuring that Manrique’s experience with the up-timers was what counted, not the results of it.

The newest addition to the court of the Netherlands’ inner circle was the former Savoyard diplomat, Alessandro Scaglia. He was what you might call the theorist of the group, having advanced in his now-famous book Political Methods and the Laws of Nations the strategic approach he believed would best deal with the new political universe created by the Ring of Fire.

Finally, there was the last person sitting in the room, who was not part of the inner circle but whose presence was essential whenever major issues were being decided. That was Frederik Hendrik, the Prince of Orange. He was the leader of the Dutch Protestants who comprised roughly half of the Netherlands’ population and accounted for considerably more than half of its industrial output and technical capabilities.

The gist of the settlement which he and Fernando had made two years earlier came down to three things:

First, religious freedom was established throughout the Netherlands. This was not “separation of church and state” as Americans understood the term, because the king was allowed to subsidize the Catholic Church from tax revenues. The Prince of Orange had the same right to subsidize the Reformed church from his revenues. But neither the king nor the prince nor any of their state agencies could prohibit or penalize the free and open practice of other faiths anywhere in the nation. That included Jews as well as Christians of all varieties.

Secondly, the seven United Provinces in the northern part of the Netherlands all enjoyed a great deal of autonomy. For the most part, they ran their own affairs with the exception of foreign policy. (In theory, the ten southern provinces shared the same status; but, in practice, they were far more subject to royal authority.)

Finally, the Prince of Orange occupied a special place in the government of the Low Countries, being recognized as its second most powerful official. The situation was not one of a dual monarchy, certainly; but it might fairly be called a monarchy and a half.

Frederik Hendrik spoke first, a none-too-subtle indication of his status. He was careful not to step on Fernando’s toes. But he made it a point to plant his feet as closely as possible to the king’s during these meetings.

“Am I right in presuming that we are here to discuss the situation in the New World?”

Fernando nodded. “Mostly, I want to discuss the New Netherlands. But the French claims on the territories sold to them by King Charles will inevitably figure also.”

“Has there been any sign yet that the French intend to press their claims?” asked Manrique.

“Not that we are aware of,” replied Maria Anna. “But the situation in France has been unstable since their defeat at Ahrensbök. It is by no means impossible that Gaston will accede to the throne, in which case . . . ” She shrugged. “The man is unpredictable. We cannot assume that French passivity toward their New World claims will continue for much longer.”

Rubens nodded. “So you wish to settle—”

“Please, Pieter!” exclaimed the king, smiling. “I think ‘stabilize’ is much the better term for it.” The artist smiled back. “Stabilize, then, your authority over the New Netherlands.”

Isabella looked back and forth from one of them to the other. “Is that authority really in question? I realize we’ve kept a distance from the colonies in New Amsterdam and New Orange, but I hadn’t gotten the sense that anyone there was tending toward revolt. By now, they should have had time to adjust to the new realities of power.”

Fernando made a little gesture with his hand indicating the inherent fuzziness of political relations. “There’s been no open talk of rebellion as such, no. But for all practical purposes, the West India Company has been operating completely independently for three years now. If we let that continue for much longer, it will become an ingrained habit with them, and—yes—that could lead to rebellion.” He nodded toward his wife. “The queen and I both feel it would be wise at this point to reestablish our authority over them.”

“Nothing heavy-handed,” she said. “Still . . . we must be firm.”

“What do you propose?” asked Rubens.

“To begin with, recall—and then dismiss—the current Director General, Wouter van Twiller. The man is reportedly incompetent as well as a swindler—”

“A drunk, too,” chipped in Maria Anna.

“—and needs to be replaced. But I want to go further than simply replacing him. I want to discard the post of Director-General altogether and replace it with a governor—who will be accountable to the crown, not the West India Company.”

The people sitting in the half circle facing the king, queen and Isabella exchanged glances with each other. Then, all looked to the Prince of Orange.

Who responded with a half smile. “Why do we Dutch have such a reputation for greed?”

“Because you’re greedy?” suggested Manrique. But he made the jest with a half smile of his own.

He and Frederik Hendrik were both soldiers and had a warm personal regard for each other, whatever issues over which they might differ.

The Prince of Orange shifted in his chair for a second or two. Then, shrugged. “In truth, I would not be in the least chagrined to see the high and mighty West India Company humbled a bit.”

“It’ll be more than a bit, Your Highness,” said Scaglia.

“All the better,” said Frederik Hendrik, his tone hardening. In that moment, all present were reminded that this man was the son of William the Silent and the half brother of Maurice of Nassau. All three of them had broken Spanish armies on the field of battle.

The high and mighty West India Company? Pfah.

The king nodded. “We’re in agreement then?” He waited politely a few seconds to see if there were any demurrals.

When none came, he said: “What remains is to select our governor. I was thinking—”

He broke off, seeing the expression on Rubens’ face. “Yes, Pieter? Do you have an opinion?”

“Yes, I do. A rather strong opinion, in fact. I think we would be wise to place Adam Olearius in the post.”

Isabella frowned. “I’ve heard the name, but I’m not familiar with the fellow.”

“I know him fairly well,” said Frederik Hendrik. “He’s certainly a capable man—a mathematician and geographer, in addition to his diplomatic work. And he’s in his mid-thirties now, so he’s mature enough for the post.”

“Where’s he from?” asked Isabella. The frown was still on her face. “And what’s his religion? I don’t insist he be Catholic, although I’d prefer it. But if he’s one of these disputatious Gomarists or Arminians, that’s more likely to be a hindrance than a help.”

“He’s not Reformed at all,” said Rubens. “He’s of German origin, not Dutch. He was born somewhere around Magdeburg. I believe he’s Lutheran”—the half smile came back—“a faith he wears in the reasonable manner you’d expect of a diplomat. But his principal qualification for the post of governor of the New Netherlands is his wife, Anne Jefferson. Olearius is the only diplomat we have who is married to an American.”

The queen seemed to be stifling a laugh. “I’ve met her, as it happens. She’s the one—the one—”

The smile on Rubens’ face widened. “Yes, she’s the one we used as our model for those famous postage stamps. What’s more to the point, however—aside from her relationship to Olearius—is that she’s a noted doctor.”

“Registered nurse, technically, as Americans gauge these things.” That came from Scaglia. “But that makes her someone I’d far rather seek treatment from than a down-time doctor who can expound his knowledge in both Greek and Latin with many a reference to the works of Aristotle.”

The king had been following the discussion intently. Now he said: “Explain your reasoning, Pieter. I’m not opposed to the idea—I’m somewhat familiar with Olearius himself and I’ve met Jefferson. Impressive woman.”

Rubens didn’t respond immediately. His lips were slightly pursed and he seemed to avoid looking at anyone except Fernando. After a few seconds, he said: “That will require me to speak bluntly on a subject we have treated in a gingerly manner thus far.”

The king opened both hands in a gesture of invitation. “Do so.”

“I believe the prospects for the Netherlands are excellent, and are so in many respects. Since the reunification, we are too large and powerful a nation for anyone to go to war upon us without careful consideration. Not as powerful as the USE, certainly, nor France or Spain. But big enough and strong enough that we needn’t fear any outbreak of major hostilities in the near future. And the longer that peaceful future continues, the stronger we become. Not in numbers, but in our technical capability and industrial might. We are second only to the USE—really, only to a couple of its provinces—in that regard, and in some areas their equal or even superior.”

He paused again.

“There’s a ‘but’ here,” said the king.

“Yes, there is. But all of that depends on our maintaining good relations with the United States of Europe. First, because they are the one power in the world that could probably defeat us quickly in a war, if they brought all their might down.”

“That’s hardly likely, Pieter!” protested Manrique. “With them already at war with both the Ottomans and Poland?”

“I agree, it’s not likely. But there’s another reason we need the goodwill of the USE, and that’s in case either France or Spain—or worse still, both in alliance—decide to wage war upon us. That wouldn’t happen so long as Richelieu is in power, but . . . ”

He nodded toward Maria Anna. “As Her Majesty said, Gaston may succeed in his royal ambitions, and the man is unpredictable. But if he—or Spain; or both—do launch a major attack on us, I believe we could count on the support of the USE. Tacit support, at least, if not an outright alliance. But I think tacit support would be enough.”

He looked back at the king. “Provided . . . ”

“There is no tension between us,” Fernando finished for him. “Or not much, at least.”

He planted his hands on his knees and leaned back in his chair. As he always did in these sessions of the inner circle, Fernando was using a chair that was no larger nor more ornate than anyone else’s. Of course, they were all chairs you’d expect to find in a royal palace. Well made, if not precisely comfortable.

It was his turn to pause for a few seconds. Then he nodded his head. “I see the logic. The Americans are very influential in the USE and if they know that one of their own is directly involved in our reestablishment of authority in the New World, they are less likely to be suspicious that we have any intent against the USE. Which we really don’t . . . except I’d prefer it if they didn’t crowd our colonies too closely with any of their own.”

“The Swedes have already established a colony not far from ours, Your Majesty,” pointed out Manrique. “And they’re planning to reinforce it, according to our agents.”

“Yes, but that’s a Swedish colony, not a USE colony,” said Fernando. “As problems go, it’s . . . What’s that new expression the mathematicians are so fond of?”

“An order of magnitude smaller,” supplied the Prince of Orange. Seeing the puzzled expression on the faces of several of the people present, he added: “It means something is ten times bigger or smaller.”

Again, the half smile came back. “I learned that from Olearius, as it happens.”

The frown came back to Isabella’s face. “What you’re saying is that we would be deliberately inviting what amounts to a USE spy to be at the very center of our project.”

Rubens shook his head. “‘Spy’ is far too strong a term, Your Grace. If anyone were to even suggest that to her, Jefferson would be quite offended. After all the portraits I’ve done of her, I’ve gotten to know her quite well. She considers herself a doctor, not a politician.” He spread his own hands. “Still, if she were to notice anything she found truly disturbing, she would certainly let one of her up-time friends know about it—and one of those friends is a man named Ed Piazza.”

“Who, according to all estimates we’ve heard,” said Maria Anna, “is probably going to be the new Prime Minister of the USE not long from now.”

She leaned back in her own chair, although without any planting of hands on knees. That would have been most unladylike. (And if that attitude seemed at variance with her reputation as ‘the Wheelbarrow Queen,’ so be it. Customs are many things; logically consistent is not one of them.)

“I can see the reasoning myself, now. Since both Pieter and Frederik Hendrik are satisfied with the man’s abilities, let us by all means make Adam Olearius our new governor.”

“Yes,” said her husband, which settled the matter. “Pieter, you’ll handle the matter, I presume?”

It was a very Habsburg way of framing a command as a polite question. The dynasty’s servitors had been mostly willing ones for centuries, and this was one of the reasons for it.


Back | Next
Framed