Chapter 37
Magdeburg
Spring 1637
The Quedlinburg school put on its repeat performance of the December show at “The DesFig,” to the joy of Princess Kristina, who officially “dragged along” her future brother-in-law.
He sat there, watching Annalise Richter. He had not been able to get her out of his mind. Well, in truth, the first time he saw the girl in Quedlinburg, he had fallen hopelessly in lust. It had never happened to him before, but he could diagnose the condition. He’d observed it often enough when it afflicted other men in his family. She was so pretty. Not spectacularly beautiful. Not a seductress. Just pretty. She stood there, sang in her pleasant little voice, and ornamented the scenery, like an apple tree in blossom in the spring.
This was not in his life plan.
Frederik of Denmark was grimly determined that his biography, when written, should not be a repeat performance of his father’s. By the standards of the Danish court, he was practically a teetotaler. By the standards of the seventeenth century in general, he was practically a teetotaler. If he was ever allowed to marry, there would be no mistresses to confuse his family life, no illegitimate children to clutter up his home and his budget allocations. No Kirsten Munks producing half-royal children.
He watched what he said. He didn’t say much. He watched what he wrote even more carefully and wrote less than he said, wary of committing himself on paper. He seldom laughed. His closest associates were his administrative staff.
He had studied theology, because he was destined by his father to become an episcopal administrator. He had studied natural science and Scandinavian history because he found them interesting. He collected books and had the start of an excellent library.
His older brother Christian, the prince-heir of Denmark as ratified by the council of nobles, was an empty-headed fool. An amiable enough empty-headed fool. A nitwit who would not have children.
He liked his younger brother Ulrik and it was all to the good of Denmark that he was affianced to Princess Kristina and destined for the USE, the Union of Kalmar, and Sweden.
He himself had a throne to be grasped, when the time came, in fifteen or twenty years, perhaps.
Annalise Richter was not within the scope of his carefully ordered ambitions.
Annalise Richter, who greeted him cheerfully and, when he encountered her once more at Hesse House at one of the landgravine-regent’s receptions, kept talking about the political dilemmas of the abbess of Quedlinburg, blithely oblivious to any personal interest he might have in her.
Which he would never express, because he was not going to duplicate his father’s life.
* * *
The abbess talked to the landgravine-regent of Hesse-Kassel, who talked to Mary Simpson, who talked to Veronica Dreeson, who talked to Iona Nelson. Then everybody talked to Iona.
They all agreed, at their little Kaffeeklatsch, that the musical program that Iona put together at Quedlinburg had been a great success.
Kaffeeklatsch was an oddity in Amideutsch, the landgravine remarked. A German word, but introduced by way of up-time. The conversation meandered on.
Summer was coming. It would be a good thing if Iona could see her way to coming to Magdeburg for the summer. Veronica would love to have her; Jeff and Gretchen’s big house only housed her, Nicholas and Thea, and their two toddlers at the moment. She could put together and direct a similar program, but for adult amateur musicians, with songs she considered suitable for both male and female voices. Maybe one public performance and two or three in private venues?
“Is there any market for it?” Iona asked
It wouldn’t quite be a commercial venture. Donations requested, of course, for a good cause. The endowment could come up with enough to cover the out-of-pocket expenses. No costumes needed; no expensive props.
Well, yes, of course everyone who was anyone had attended at least one up-time “musical” by now. And Marla. And, perhaps, the orchestra. And . . . but this was different. They could get a group of volunteer young people together. A mix of up-timers in Magdeburg and down-timers. A chance for them to have fun, get to know one another better, and still learn something new.
“Almost like a bit of community theater,” Mary Simpson said.
What Iona could do would be more accessible. Easier to understand, especially with the little introductions, like the girls had spoken at the school programs. It wasn’t as if many people could fit into the tavern where Marla and her friends occasionally performed more casually.
“Someone mentioned to me that one wealthy DesFig father said to his wife, ‘What those girls from Quedlinburg sang wasn’t quite so demanding on the ears, if you know what I mean, as those concerts you’ve been dragging me to.’ That’s what we’re aiming toward,” Mary Simpson said.
Iona agreed.