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Chapter 10


At the Schloss, Duke Ernst and his official advisers were going through much of the same material.

“There were Jewish settlements in the Upper Palatinate, here and there, during the Middle Ages,” Böcler reported. “Most of them fell victim to pogroms, but it is difficult to exercise measured vengeance on anyone alive today for events that took place three centuries ago. To the best of my knowledge, the only Jews currently in the province are those who have come since the establishment of the USE. There are a number of merchants in Regensburg; a few families here in Amberg. That leaves only the countess of Pfalz-Sulzbach’s tenaciously defended new settlements in Sulzbach proper, at Weiden, at Floß, and… Where else?”

“Rosenberg.”

“How much anti-Semitism has there been?”

“Given that I have paid attention to her,” Duke Ernst said. “That is, to her protestations that most of the hostility toward them would come from those members of the local merchant and artisan classes who resent competition… My decision to deputize her and her stewards has effectively prevented any anti-Semitic action in regard to those small groups. There has been some muttering, and occasional verbal hostility. The administration has received multiple complaints and petitions.”

“Moreover,” one of the advisers said, “we have no idea what the CoCs plan to do in regard to that kind of thing—verbal expressions not followed by any actions. How much unrest will they foment? If they take advantage of these minor episodes to…”

Nobody responded.

Not until Böcler cleared his throat. “You could always ask.”

***

“While I cannot pretend to know what was in the minds of those who unleashed this event,” Werner von Dalberg said a couple of hours later. It had taken him and Böcler that long to persuade the city’s more vociferous CoC members that he would not be cast into a dungeon if he went up to the Schloss to talk to Duke Ernst at this rather ticklish juncture. “Balancing the right to free speech against the desire to control incendiary speech is not something that will come easily. Whatever others may do, I am not going to sponsor counter-pogroms, anti-pogroms, where there have been no actual pogroms. It might not be amiss for you to send a company of militia to each of the settlements, where they can wander around looking more armed and dangerous than the average local hothead will be inclined to tangle with. So much for the anti-Semites.”

Duke Ernst looked at the ceiling. “Just in case, it may be useful for you to have some information.” He motioned to Böcler, who handed von Dalberg a pile of papers a couple of inches thick.

He sighed. “Copies of complaints and petitions which we have received about the Jewish communities. Signed. I am keeping the originals with the signatures safe in the archives, but these list the names. Unless someone in my own chancery is spying on me, this may not be available to the Committees of Correspondence.

“While I cannot prove it, I believe it is more likely that they have reports from the communities themselves indicating which local people have said hostile things. Reports which, I am presuming…” Duke Ernst looked firmly at the other persons present. “…presuming, mind you, and working on that presumption, that they obtain by way of Francisco Nasi. That is where his network of information on the anti-Semites will lie and I do not discern any probable alternative source from which the CoCs might be receiving such information. There will indubitably be overlap, but I doubt that the two sources are coextensive.”

Von Dalberg nodded, pulled his leather briefcase out from under the table, and placed the papers in one of the interior pockets. “Thank you, Your Grace. Which leaves witchcraft persecutions. Something with which, I, unfortunately, am much too well acquainted for the peace of my conscience.”

“In the Oberpfalz proper, at least, the CoCs won’t have much to do,” Hans Friedrich Fuchs pointed out, “considering that back in 1563, the elector, that was Friedrich III back then, issued an edict on witchcraft accusations that prohibited any future use of torture and banned the death penalty for alleged witches. We can be pretty sure that nobody involved before that is still alive; a couple of octogenarians, at most, who would have been teenagers then; perhaps the helper for the woodcutter who hauled in a wagon loaded with wood to be used on the pyres. We’ve had accusations since then. I doubt anybody can prevent accusations. But they’ve never gone to trial.

“Which means that there have been no deaths. It’s not as if crowds of angry peasants holding torches go chasing alleged witches through the Bayerischer Wald in the middle of the night. There are angry peasants, certainly, but they go and file complaints in the district court. Or angry people who file allegations in the municipal court, if it is a chartered city. Witchcraft trials are not extra-legal processes; they take place within the court system, according to the principles and procedures established by the Carolina.”

He didn’t have to explain. Everyone in the room knew that the Carolina was the imperial criminal code issued during the reign of Charles V. Herr Fuchs was clearly more upset by the prospect of burning a witch without following the proper judicial procedures than by the prospect of burning a witch per se.

“The Carolina did not make witch trials mandatory. Any local ruler can issue an edict prohibiting them or limiting the conditions under which they are allowed; many have done so. Just as many have not. The point is that a witch trial has to be preceded by a prosecutor willing to bring in an indictment and a magistrate willing to bring the matter to trial. If those aren’t present, the accuser and accused get a scolding from the judge and are sent back home. Or, perhaps, a fine, if the accusation has caused a lot of trouble.”

Fuchs was present because Duke Ernst had reconstituted the provincial Estates, the members of which had promptly re-elected him as speaker as soon as he moved back from Nürnberg. Ernst shook his head. The Estates would have to be modernized, of course…that was a problem for another day. “Ja, that seems safe to say. Why was Elector Palatine Friedrich III so enlightened?”

“Supposedly, he read a book.”

“Spee von Langenfeld hadn’t published yet, back then,” von Dalberg said. “He wasn’t even born back then. As little as I like the Jesuits,”—he looked at Caspar Hell—“I do have to give the man credit for the Cautio Criminalis.”

“Different author; different book. Johann Weyer, De Praestigiis Daemonum. That’s the short title. He was a physician and concluded that the night flights and such that witches report are hallucinations. I’m pretty sure there’s a copy in our library that includes the appendix. Weyer published in Basel, I believe.”

Duke Ernst looked interested.

Fuchs cleared his throat. “To return to the topic of immediate concern, in Pfalz-Neuburg, under Wolfgang Wilhelm, there were two cases. Six executions, I believe. That was close to twenty years ago.”

“We can look into it, and will, but it doesn’t sound like anything major—particularly considering that Wolfgang Wilhelm is very, very dead. No matter what is being circulated from Magdeburg in regard to magically appearing lists of persecutors, there is no way that anyone can have tracked down every minor flurry and episode. We must be realistic. While Nasi has the network to have assembled such data on the anti-Semites, or on most of them, at least, the loud-mouthed ones…” Von Dalberg paused and looked at Duke Ernst, one eyebrow raised in a tacit request for permission to say whatever he proposed to say next.

“Continue.”

“…when it comes to witchcraft persecutions, essentially, all that the CoCs have received in practice…” Von Dalberg paused to consider the best way to phrase this. “…all that I understand on the basis of rumor that the CoCs are receiving, that is…”

Duke Ernst permitted himself a small smile.

“…are lists of those cases that became so notorious that they made the newspapers. Not comprehensive lists of what Anna Beckerin from Tinkersdorf may have said about Elizabetha Deckerin from Rinkersdorf somewhere in remotest Brandenburg in regard to a dead chicken that led to their appearance before a district magistrate fifteen years ago. That would require that we of the CoC have examined every district, municipal, and village court record in every local jurisdiction in the USE.”

This time, it was von Dalberg who gave a rueful smile. “Which, I assure you, we have not. I advise anyone who dreams that we have to consider the feasibility of such a massive undertaking. So I am rather relieved to have received reliable data from Herr Fuchs.” He bowed at the other man; then changed the focus of the discussion. “What about Regensburg?”

“I am not aware of any cases there. Not in the imperial city. As for the prince-bishopric overall, I’m not certain. The bishop of Regensburg does not exercise secular jurisdiction over any of the parishes that lie in the Upper Palatinate. The others are in Bavaria, which is why I don’t know.”

“Which leaves the dilemma of Eichstätt.”

“That is the SoTF’s dilemma.” Duke Ernst stood up to signal the end of the meeting.

Von Dalberg also stood up. And up. And up. “Not as long as Westerstetten is holed up in Ingolstadt, it’s not. Divine providence and the ineffable wisdom of the delegates to the Congress of Copenhagen decided to place Ingolstadt permanently in the Province of the Upper Palatinate.”

***

In the less elevated environment of the inn dining room presided over by Frau Mechthilde, less influential people covered much the same topics in their conversation.

“I don’t recall that anyone said anything at all about a place called Eichstätt,” Keith Pilcher objected when the place was mentioned. “At least not anyone I know, and I know a lot of those people. Maydene Utt; Willa Fodor; Estelle McIntire. Hell, I know all of them, and so does my wife’s sister Jenny. If it had been their problem or the Special Commission’s problem, they’d have done something about it.”

Sebastian Kellermeister only knew the formidable auditors by reputation, but he got Pilcher’s point. “Herr Pilcher, that is because it was not their problem. Eichstätt was not yet under the jurisdiction of the New United States. Let me show you these maps.”

***

As soon as possible, Werner von Dalberg consulted with the head of the Committees of Correspondence for the Province of the Upper Palatinate. Who was not even close to being the same man as the head of the Committee of Correspondence chapter in Amberg. Who wasn’t even from Amberg. Was about as far away from Amberg as a man could get and still be in the Upper Palatinate. Donauwörth was a far more convenient location than Amberg for maintaining close connections to CoCs in points north. Points north such as the SoTF.

If one was organizing a revolution, it was best to look rather harmless when sitting directly under the eyes of its target. The Amberg Committee of Correspondence should look rather harmless if General Banér decided to focus his eyes on it. Rather like a book club. Or a debating society. If he could envision a debating society populated by teamsters and blacksmiths’ apprentices.

Maybe not a polite debating society. There had been quite a flurry when one of the tanners had been brought up for discipline by the city council because of an unauthorized expansion of his business into the manufacture of portable, oiled-leather-covered (the exact formula for the oil was a closely held secret), waterproofed, upholstered, seat cushions, in partnership with one of the reporters for the Current Tidings, who was a member of no guild at all. Against the rag-pickers, who in addition to the tanners had also appeared, for the purpose of testifying about the unfair diversion of woolen rags to this enterprise, the Amberg CoC had spoken energetically; to the city council sternly. Perhaps, more like yelled at the city council loudly and in a disorderly manner. But they had made their point. This was not against any regulation, because no such cushions had previously existed. With reference to cartels and the breaking thereof.

Still, it had been the kind of CoC activity with which Duke Ernst could peacefully co-exist.

The current situation…really wasn’t. Von Dalberg made the trip because he wanted his man on the spot, not delayed by coming to Amberg and then having to get back again.

The house where Theodor Keitel had his headquarters was in a rough, flood-prone, neighborhood on the Danube, next to the docks, up against the food warehouses. Everything unloaded from today’s barges for tomorrow’s early market was in those warehouses tonight: cages of chickens, so manure; pickles, so brine; fruit, so a slight finishing trace of over ripeness. In another hour, men with barrows would be coming.

They’d been arguing all night.

“Fuchs was bullshitting you. That’s to put the best construction in everything.” Keitel was a properly confirmed Lutheran and knew that he should put the best construction on everything, even if it was not his natural inclination. “Or, more likely, he was lying through his teeth. ‘Two cases, six executions, close to twenty years ago.’ It was more like fifty cases, just to give you an estimate off the top of my head, and I know the executions were still running as late as 1630. Never trust a noble.”

“He did not seem concerned when I said that we could look into it, and meant that we would look into it, which leads me to believe that he thought his information was good. Moreover, it remains true that Wolfgang Wilhelm is very, very dead. Fuchs is Lutheran; he has nothing to gain by defending Catholic persecutors in Neuburg. I suspect it is more that this southwestern region of the Upper Palatinate as currently constituted isn’t his prime area of interest. He’s from the Oberpfalz proper, in the north, and he was in exile for years. If reports on executions in Neuburg didn’t cross his desk for some reason, he probably wasn’t looking for them.”

Von Dalberg, although Catholic and therefore not having memorized Dr. Luther’s admonition to the young, had much more of a natural inclination to put the best construction on everything than the average person.

“Wolfgang Wilhelm is dead, but he didn’t execute those people in person.” Keitel slammed his fist down. “For most of the time, he’s been up in the Rhineland. The persecutions were carried out for the most part by people who are still alive and still in what used to be Neuburg. Although some of them have run back to Bavaria.”

“Do you know of cases outside of the Neuburg territories?”

“There are bound to have been some. I can…”

Von Dalberg stood up. “Look into it?” he asked with a small smile. “No. Concentrate on Neuburg. I’ll have Marquardt check Leuchtenberg; there must be someone who knows what was going on in Cham.”

Keitel laughed for the first time that night. “If anything.”

“And Passau. As for this western point of the province…” Von Dalberg drew a deep breath, the mixed scents of river water and brine tickling his nose. “Yes, look into it. As long as ‘it’ is in Neuburg and vicinity.”

He turned around. “And take care of it.”

***

Theodor Keitel was a systematic man.

Also a rather intimidating man.

In the absence of the very, very, dead Wolfgang Wilhelm, the administration of Neuburg had fallen to a disinterested official delegated by Duke Ernst, an import from Saxe-Weimar, who agreed to let Keitel talk to the judicial archivist.

Courts kept records of their proceedings; court clerks filed them in such a way that they could be retrieved and consulted at need.

“Herr Fuchs may have been thinking of these cases in the city of Neuburg in 1602 and 1613; the latter, the one in Burglengenfeld, terminated in an execution.” A small, rather apprehensive, court clerk was not enjoying Theodor Keitel’s visit to his department. “But I don’t think so, because those took place under the old count, who was Lutheran. Then, after Wolfgang Wilhelm’s succession, on the basis of recommendations from the Jesuits at the university of Ingolstadt, since he was Catholic, particularly Petrus Canisius and Jacob Gretser…”

Keitel wanted to shake the man until his brains rattled in his head. “Get to the point!”

“I believe that the two cases referenced by Herr Fuchs were probably this one in Hemau. Magdalena Scherer was tortured for months and finally executed in 1617. She confessed, but later repudiated her words on the ground that she was in great pain when she admitted to the charges. Three other women were tried at the same time.” The little man handed over a piece of paper. “And this case.” Another piece of paper. “Then, beyond those…”

Keitel ground his teeth.

“I believe these are the more recent cases you wanted. From Reichertshofen in 1628 and 1629, about eighty cases rather than the fifty you estimated when you presented your request. That is the best count that I can to provide under the short deadline you gave me. Please understand that some of the judicial Akten have gotten mixed up with one another when one accuser filed against more than one person, or there were multiple indictments of the same person, or trials were combined, and make allowances for the difficulty involved in determining the exact number. The number of executions was at least fifty-one; perhaps that was the number you had in mind. Here are the payment accounts for the court costs for those, so the information cannot be challenged.”

The archivist picked up another expanding pocket file folder. With the Vignelli logo printed on it, Keitel noted.

“However. Beyond the scope of your original request, I have located these thirty-eight cases from Neuburg in 1629 and 1630, with several executions, most by the sword followed by burning, but in a few cases… Please understand. Even when I cannot find a full record, the payment of court costs by dependents of the deceased, the escheat of estates to the count or the city council, and similar financial records are often the most reliable. Sometimes it is money that provides the clearest trail. Then it is not a matter of what people claimed, or alleged, or believed; not a question of guilt, or innocence, or motive, but rather of who was charged for a specific act, for something that was done and paid for. In the twenty-two cases in the town of Neuburg itself, the money went to the city council.”

The clerk looked at Keitel apologetically. “Because with motive, it is so hard to be certain—as with the accusation lodged against the wife of the retired head of the chancery—I knew them myself. To this day, I believe that the allegation against her was brought because of politics, with no devil involved other than human ambition.”

Keitel gritted his teeth. The little man was nervous to the point of trembling hands, but apparently he knew his way around the records system.

A few days later, he was certain that the archivist knew his way around the records system. Which caused him to wonder how on earth some clerk, somewhere, very likely working for Francisco Nasi, compiled the famous “official list” for the CoCs to use. Only a few of the Neuburg participants involved, only a few of the people who were clearly named in these court records, invoices, receipts, checklists, were on the paperwork that von Dalberg had received from Magdeburg.

Worse, some of the names on the list that came from Magdeburg were nowhere in the original records.

He’d sent his second-in-command back to double-check with the little man, just to be safe.

The archivist had been honest. He hadn’t omitted any names from the copies he provided for Keitel.

Which meant that someone else, somewhere along the line, had put them on the list that came from Magdeburg. He remembered the archivist’s words. “…because of politics, with no devil involved other than human ambition.”

Thought about the recent rumors, even these last couple of years, spread most likely by the Neuburg city treasurer’s enemies…rumors that, if nothing had been changed by the Ring of Fire, might have ended with the man on the gallows, supposedly for witchcraft. Actually for…well, no city council member was happy when someone exposed his embezzlement of funds from the municipal Spital. The councilman had influential friends.

Quite possibly no one, not even a genuinely, fanatically, insane witch-burning zealot, was immune from being manipulated by a cynical politician.

Quite possibly, not even a CoC leader.

In cooperation with cadres from the SoTF, Keitel’s forces did a sweep through the former Neuburg territories. The men were disciplined. They left the people whose names Keitel could not confirm independently alone. Which might get him into trouble with Gunther Achterhof and might not, but he had to live with himself.

The sweep did not include Ingolstadt, which was garrisoned by General Banér in the name of Gustav Adolf. In the north, the military might be holding back. The USE air force might be surreptitiously providing surveillance for the CoCs in Mecklenburg. In the south, Keitel knew better than to try to take the fortification of Ingolstadt with no more resources than a CoC column, no matter how well-trained, could bring to bear.

In the other world, the one from which the up-timers came, the history of this war said that, in another version of the year 1632, even Gustav Adolf had looked at those walls and turned away. Getting his horse shot out from under him for his trouble.

He could only hope that no hot-headed idiot would try it. Rumors kept floating around that some hot-headed idiot might.

“Grimly disciplined” was a relative concept. Also a matter of timing.

Any CoC hothead who tried something contrary to orders would, without doubt, end up grimly disciplined. How much trouble he could cause before his cadre leaders caught up with him was a different matter.



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