Epilogue
Grantville
July 1637
Leopold Cavriani and Gary Lambert made their way to their usual spot.
“The varnish is holding up well,” Cavriani said after they had ordered, rubbing the polish on the table with one forefinger. “A person scarcely notices more years of wear.”
“Extra heavy-duty polyurethane marine spar varnish. Absolutely waterproof. Cal and Lauren got a special on it a year or so before the Ring of Fire hit and put three coats on all the tables.” Gary shook his head. “We won’t be seeing anything like it for a long time.”
They ate lamb with baked potatoes in silence. Eventually, “I enjoyed the business with the cat,” Gary said. “As a spectator, of course.”
“Marc could have gotten into difficulties, going into France like that.”
Mulling over the French situation took some time.
Leopold was inclined to despair at the imperviousness of even the best of the up-timers when it came to understanding politics. “Everything that has been going on among the Huguenots this spring does not necessarily signify a lasting estrangement between Rohan and Soubise.” He twirled the wine glass he was holding. “In the final analysis, they are brothers. Not only that, but brothers who have been close to one another for several decades of life. This tactic has served European noble families well for at least half a millennium. Some version of it has served families well since remotest antiquity. By having a prominent member on each side of any significant civil war between claimants to the throne, then no matter who comes out on top, the family estates don’t escheat to the crown as a result of accusations of treason. They are transferred within the family, from one branch to another.”
Gary simply shook his head.