Ein feste Burg, Episode Two
Written by Rainer Prem
Chapter 2: Decisions
Jagdschloss of the Duke of Sachsen-Eisenach, Marksuhl, Thuringia
March 1634
Maximiliane von Pasqualini lay in her king size bed staring at the dark ceiling.
The duchess was right. Max had left home with what at that time seemed like a life's plan. But it had not been able to stand the test of time.
Staying a man in Grantville had been a serious error. In hindsight it was outright foolish. Each and every day somebody could have emerged in Grantville who knew her family. And if this hypothetical person had accused her of conspiring against the United States, based on the fact that she pretended to be someone else? Max had no idea what would have happened.
No. "The times are changing and we have to change with them or we are left behind." She could not remember where she had heard that, but it seemed never more relevant than in this moment.
She decided to try a little big change in the morning . . . and to defer the big big decisions a little longer.
****
When somebody knocked in the morning, the sun was just rising in the east. Max still lay in bed, so she could easily say, "Come in".
Hans entered the room. "Good morning, Herr von Pasqualini. The duchess asks you to attend breakfast at seven o'clock."
"Good morning, Hans. I've got news for you. It's Frau, not Herr. But please call me Max. I never was fond of that petty title."
After a second of hesitation, Hans answered: "So be it. Max, the duchess told me that you can find some gifts in the rightmost wardrobe."
After he had left the room, Max got up and hurried to the indicated wardrobe. When she opened it, she was stunned. Dresses! White, red, green, blue, a rainbow dream. And underwear. Pink, white, and—oh! And—ah! And these thingies the up-timer girls wore to increase their measurement.
She was still musing what to wear, when it knocked again. She heard "Max, it's me, Christine," before she could panic.
"Come in, please."
When a smiling Christine entered the room, Max tried a "Good morning, Hoheit," but got a "Shhh. You are among friends," in return.
Christine spread her arms. "First of all: Let me hug you."
Max nearly jumped into the duchess' arms, half-laughing half-weeping. "Oh, thank you. Thank you so much. For your words yesterday and for these dresses and . . ."
Christine's smile widened. "That's what friends are for. And since we both have decided to be friends, calling me Hoheit is very inappropriate." She stroked the younger woman's hair and continued. "I'm Christine and you are Max. Basta!"
Sometime later they separated.
"Max, I assume that you are not very familiar with the current fashion. Before you spend too much time trying out all these clothes, be informed that the duke decided to do an on-site inspection at the Wartburg with you today.
"Since you are to leave directly after breakfast, I suggest donning something convenient for riding. You are familiar with riding astride, so you should try one of these skorts. Don't waste that fine silk underwear today; better wear your male shorts. I'll see you downstairs at seven."
With a kiss on Max's forehead she left.
Max started into the toilet room, but a motion outside the window caught her attention. She could look down to the large garden below where a man was moving. He wore thick clothing, a scarf around his neck, and a woolen cap. He used that peculiar running style she had seen in Grantville before. The Americans called it "jogging."
The man seemed to have noticed her. He looked up, smiled and waved his hand without changing his pace. Now Max could see that it was the duke himself. Hastily she waved back and then hurried to complete her morning toilet. Yes, the duke in fact had developed more manners of a "health nut" than only his diet.
****
She took breakfast with Christine. They were served by a middle-aged woman, who was called Cornelia. Christine told her that she was Hans' wife.
"So how many servants do you have here?" asked Max.
"Our people here like to be called domestic staff member," Christine answered smiling. "Hans and Cornelia are the owners of a company called Eisenacher Hausmeisterdienst, and this facility management company has a legal contract with the duke. They guarantee to provide enough competent staff for the daily services and occasional events, so we don't have to have a large entourage any longer.
"Hans and Cornelia prefer to work wherever the duke and I are, so they are living here in the Jagdschloss at the moment. Some of their employees do the other services. They are mostly from Marksuhl. They have contracts with gardeners and several craftsmen to come and do the necessary work from time to time.
"So every member of the staff can have his time off. They are, of course, all committed to confidentiality about everything they learn in the house. In the beginning, Hans had to weed out some black sheep, but for the moment this works perfectly.
"So, Cornelia, how many of your employees will be here today?"
The woman did some mental computations and then answered. "There is a maid, Hoheit, only one kitchen helper today, and two stable boys. And Hans has called for an escort of ten Jäger for the duke's trip to the Wartburg. Oh yes, and the carpenter will show up at ten to check the sauna."
This was a word Max had not heard before, but before she could ask, the duchess spoke.
"Thank you for the information, Cornelia." Then she frowned. "And thank you for spoiling my surprise for the evening."
Cornelia put a hand on her mouth. "Oh sorry, Hoheit."
So Max had the opportunity to ask. "What is this 'sauna'?"
Christine and Cornelia heaved a sigh in unison. "Gottseidank," the duchess said, now smiling again. "You will learn soon enough."
****
When Max left the building, the troop had already gathered.
She bowed before the duke. "Good morning, Hoheit."
He smiled a little sourly. "Good morning, Max. It's a wonderful day, isn't it?"
"Oh yes," she answered, looking to the sky where the sun had pushed away the morning mist.
"Max, come over to your horse." A large person stood there, holding the reins of Max's horse. "Max, this is Ingrid Wasasdottir. She is responsible for your security as from today."
Now Max could see that the person was in fact a woman. Large, broad, a blond woven pigtail wound around her head, a sword and a round shield on her back. She wore a real chain mail and looked as if she had just jumped off a Viking dragon boat.
"Good morning, Frau von Pasqualini," she greeted Max in perfect German.
"Good morning, Frau Wasasdottir." Max turned to the duke. "But, Hoheit—"
"No," the duke interrupted her firmly. "Max, as long as you work for me, you are in the same danger of being attacked from any thug as I am. So you will accept this bodyguard. She'll be with you and protect you wherever you go, until you leave my service.
"I'd like to add that she is one of the best—"
The big woman stiffened and frowned.
"Ah . . . she is the best female bodyguard I know. She speaks German, English, Swedish, Danish, and Icelandic. So she can even negotiate you out of the hands of Vikings."
Frown.
"Ah, not that this would be necessary, because in her protection, you will never fall into the hands of Vikings."
Now Ingrid smiled like a sunrise.
Max shrugged and mounted her steed. She could see that the papers she had left on the duke's desk the day before had been gathered into her bag and fixed to her saddle.
They started in two columns. Four Jäger ahead, then the duke and Max, then Hans and Ingrid, two Jäger with a packhorse each, then the rest. Max was a little astonished to see Hans dressed like a mercenary with a carbine in his saddle holster and a large revolver and a sabre at his hip. So he was not just the simple "facility manager." He was obviously the duke's bodyguard, as well.
After leaving the courtyard they turned east on a dirt road. The black ruin of the Wartburg could be seen in the distance. It looked like a very bad tooth.
"Max," the duke said. "I will show you the works that already have begun in the surroundings. So you can decide later if this will be enough to start the construction work."
The duke's voice was warm, and Max had the feeling there was some uncertainty in it. Christine had told her during breakfast that she had "commanded" the duke not to mention the offspring issue.
Elte Valley, near Wilhelmsthal, Thuringia
After half an hour, partly on narrow paths through the forest, they reached a construction area. Some men were erecting a scaffold in a narrow creek valley. They interrupted their work and bowed when they identified the duke. The duke nodded back and smiled.
He ordered a stop and pointed to the south. "This creek is the Elte. We will build a dam here to create an artificial lake. Three miles south is Kupfersuhl with its copper mines and smelting works. At the moment they suffer from shortage of wood for their ovens, but I intend to install some hydroelectric generators there, and change them to electric refinement. So we will soon have more copper to draw the wire for more generators and motors and the connection between the power plants and the Wartburg. Perhaps we can also have a telegraph line between Marksuhl, the Wartburg and Eisenach.
"We will also build a water pipe from here to the castle." He pointed to the north. "So we don't need to transport the water to the Wartburg on mules any longer. The castle is about two hundred feet higher than this point, so we will build a pump station at the lowest point.
"This road comes from Suhl and goes to Eisenach. The Americans improved it in early 1632, and we have maintained its quality until now, but I plan to have its width doubled in the near future. The stone quarry in Förtha gives us enough gravel for this."
Max had no problem noticing the elation in the duke's voice.
The duke signaled the leading soldiers to turn north. They now headed directly to the Wartburg.
Mariental, near Eisenach, Thuringia
Half an hour later they could see Eisenach before them; the castle now towered on a steep hill to their left. Here was the place where the narrow dirt road up to the Wartburg forked from the gravel road.
The duke stopped again. "I don't know if I can manage to have our train line reach Eisenach before we begin the real construction. The Americans are very greedy with their precious steel. But Samuel has a factor in Saalfeld and another one in Essen trying to negotiate some trades.
"If not, we have to transport all equipment we buy in Grantville or anywhere else by wagon. And that would be a real pita."
"Hoheit, please, what is a pita?"
The duke flushed. "Oh, it's only one of these acronyms I overheard in Grantville. It means a Pain In The—"
Max flushed, too. "Oh, now I remember. The American word is donkey." She laughed.
The duke laughed, too. "Yes, donkey. Because the donkeys have to haul the equipment.
"Nevertheless, we will have to use this road for all stones that will come from Förtha, for wood from Wilhelmsthal and copper from Kupfersuhl. And for all loads from the hopefully existing train station in Eisenach."
He pointed to the dirt road. "And everything must go up here. So this is a top priority project to improve the road upon the hill. I intend to build a depot here and have some steam tractors haul the loads up."
"What about an aerial lift?"
The duke looked astonished. "I hadn't thought about that." His gaze went up and down the hill, then left and right on the road. His voice was thoughtful. "Not from here. If we start farther to the south and then go straight up to the castle, it would be only a fraction of the length of the road.
"Max, this is a very good idea." The duke's gaze and voice showed a large amount of appreciation. "Can you design the aerial lift?"
"Oh no, Hoheit. This will be a job for an engineer. But I can supervise the survey, and find the optimal path. And it depends if we can get a steel wire long enough or we must use ropes. But the dirt road must be improved whatever else we do. People can't use the aerial lift; at least not as many people as you expect to attend the events at the new Wartburg.
"But when the construction is finished, we can keep it for the tourists as the Americans call them."
The duke frowned. "Hmm, we can try, if the running costs are not higher than the income from the tourists."
"Yes, Hoheit, that's right."
They started moving on the small dirt road up to the Wartburg again. It took them another half-hour to reach the ridge, where the ruin of the castle resided.
Wartburg reconstruction site, south of Eisenach, Thuringia
This was a lively area. Men and mules were hauling scorched and burnt beams and other wreckage from the castle to a large, shallow pit nearby. A kind of village which consisted of several log cabins could be seen. The two Jäger led the packhorses to one of the houses and were greeted by a woman dressed like a cook. All other horsemen and -women dismounted and led their steeds to a large water trough.
A middle-sized, middle-aged man approached to greet the duke.
"Max, this is Meister Reinhard Steinmetz. He is a mason from Eisenach. Reinhard, this is Frau Maximiliane von Pasqualini, our new architect."
The master mason's eyebrows tried to reach the top of his head. He was obviously startled. Max decided to show courtesy first.
"Good day, Meister Steinmetz. Are you supervising the demolition work?"
"Good day. Yes, Frau von Pasqualini, me and two others. We are three master masons taking our turns on the site. We try to get as much usable material from the ruins as possible."
"Max, Reinhard," the duke said. "Let's take a walk to the castle. We'll have our lunch here together with the workers, but we have enough time to inspect the site."
Followed by Hans and Ingrid, they took another dirt road to the burnt gate of the castle. They could see that the square keep on the far end of the ridge that held the castle still seemed intact. Its roof had not collapsed, and the stone walls were not even black. But the rest of the castle . . .
The first outer gate was missing, the hinges black and distorted. The buildings behind were black and smoky, the upper parts burnt and all roofs collapsed.
"Meister," Max said. "How do you judge the stability of the walls? Can we keep them?"
"The lower masonry consists of large boulders of granite, Frau von Pasqualini. They didn't take any damage so it's no problem. The buildings from the thirteenth and fourteenth century like the Bergfried, the lower part of the Palas, and the southern tower are mostly intact, too."
He pointed to the high keep near the center of the castle, to the large house behind it and to the narrow keep on the far end.
"But all the newer buildings and the upper part of the Palas with their cheap half-timber walls are completely devastated. We don't try to salvage anything made from wood. Even most of the bricks cracked when they were heated."
Max took a look into her drawings from the day before. "Meister, the duke has not yet decided how the new Wartburg will look. But it's certain that we don't need the Bergfried and the southern tower. They consist of walls to withstand a siege. It's only stone and nearly no space within. So by the duke's leave, you should have them torn down and the stones salvaged."
She sent a look at the duke.
"Yes, Reinhard, that seems reasonable for me, too."
"So for now," Max continued. "You can leave the Palas and the outer wall alone and remove all other buildings down to the level where we stand.
"Hoheit, we had not yet the time to talk about the infrastructure." Both men frowned, so she had to explain. "Oh sorry, it's an American word. It means the complete equipment and facilities for sustenance and waste removal. I suppose we will not have projecting alcoves with long drops as toilets in the future." Both men burst into laughter.
"No, Max, really not. I had to use such an infernal thing once long ago in the winter and I afterwards ordered that I always have a chamber pot available.
"No, this will be the most modern center of culture in the world. And culture indicates at least indoor plumbing. I want to have water toilets, as much electric lights as possible, constant hot and cold water, and floor heating or radiators."
"I thought so," Max smiled. "So we will have a central heating system. We have no access to oil or gas in the near future, so we can only burn wood or coal. Both kinds of combustible demand a storage space to sustain for an adequate amount of time. I think we should have a large steam engine and an electric generator, too, in case the electric connections to the nearest hydroelectric plant get damaged somehow.
"If we install the steam engine as early as possible, it will be able to drive cranes, pulleys and tools. It is the ideal source to power circular saws. And we'll need one for the aerial lift. So we'd better have two of them."
"Samuel will choke," the duke laughed. "But you are right, Max. In the long run we can save money when we have enough power up here."
"But what I meant to say," Max continued. "We need space for the ovens, for the steam engines, for electric generators, and most of all, storage for the combustibles and water. And we need it as near to the entrance as possible. And we need it all out of sight for the visitors. So we should plan for a basement level with an entry at the Schanze, and below this whole area." She pointed into the direction of the gate, and then swept her hand along the western wall up to the southern tower.
"We can start with the excavation as soon as all the debris is gone." Max could see that the master mason's facial expression had changed from astonishment over interest to appreciation. "Meister, have you or one of your colleagues already used reinforced concrete?"
Meister Reinhard shook his head. "No, not that I know. I know the theory. You build a wooden mold, put steel rods inside and fill it with concrete. After it has dried, you remove the wood and you have whatever fits in the mold."
"Yes, that's it. You can build the complete ceiling of our cellar without building a vault first, so you gain much space. It might need some columns for support along the center line, but I will have to calculate that.
"Concrete is an ideal material for building large cellars. It's very stable and nobody will be bothered by the crude surface. But it's expensive . . ." She turned back to the duke. "Hoheit, by your leave we can do the following: I will make a plan with the exact measures. Meister Reinhard, can you do a cost estimate for a barrel vault of this size when I send you the plans?"
The master mason nodded. "Of course."
"Please include all eventualities and tell us how long it would take you. Then I can check in Grantville for how much the material for a concrete cellar would cost, as well as how much the courses for you three masters to learn building with reinforced concrete will cost."
Reinhard showed a very wide grin. "Oh yes! It's the coming material for large buildings, and we should know how to work with it. At least that's what I think. I don't know if Meister Maurer and Meister Meier are of the same mind. They are much more conservative than me."
The duke objected. "Oh, Reinhard, this will be simple. Either they learn it too, or you will get the contract for the cellar alone, if we decide for the concrete variant."
"Then, Hoheit," Max continued eagerly. "I will have to return to Grantville for some days, to negotiate with construction companies and hire a survey team."
The duke frowned. "No, Max, you will concentrate on the brain work here. Leave the riding to a courier and the negotiations to Ruben. That is more effective. I have heard that you were accustomed to working alone, but you can learn a little teamwork now.
"When we have the equipment, you can come here to the site. In the meantime, Reinhard will have another log cabin built for a nice architect's office, storage space for the equipment, and living space for two women." His eyes met Reinhard's and the master mason nodded.
Max contemplated some seconds, and then decided that the duke's orders showed more maturity than her previous working style. Yes, she had mostly worked alone. And, yes, this had to change now.
Another issue came to her mind. "I'll need a group of survey assistants for one week. Perhaps we can make a deal with the Grantville Tech Center to have one of their classes make a field trip to practice surveying here in exchange for board and lodging and some pocket money."
She turned to Reinhard. "And that would mean another cabin with enough living space for ten school kids and their teacher."
Reinhard nodded again. "No problem."
A loud ringing sound split the air. Reinhard smiled. "Lunch is ready. Hoheit, Frau Architect, if you would do me the honor of sharing our humble meal . . ."
Jagdschloss of the Duke of Sachsen-Eisenach, Marksuhl, Thuringia
When they returned to Marksuhl in the late afternoon, Max was groggy but happy. Her legs, her bottom and her back ached. They had been on horseback for about four hours this day, but at least, in her opinion, they had achieved a lot.
She had had the opportunity to see the duke in action. The people they had met showed respect to their governor but she had not seen a sign of contempt or even disgust toward him. The duke had been open for proposals, not only listening to them, but even accepting them very fast. He was nearly as decisive as she herself.
He had shown nothing of the arrogance she had seen even in the lower nobility of her home duchy, Jülich in western Germany. But it also was not a "wisdom of the age" he showed, but more a real assessment and appreciation of the people's attitudes and skills, nearly regardless of their descent.
Firm but fair.
So yes, this has been a good day. If only my ass didn't hurt so much!
She groaned when she dismounted. When she started to lead her horse to the stables, the duke took the reins off her hands. "You should have a hot shower," he said. "The duchess will show you where."
Christine had already left the house to greet them. When she noticed Max's condition, she threw a frowning stare in the duke's direction. But Max intervened. "Christine, everything is okay. It's nothing a hot shower can't fix. The duke has just told me that you have one? That would be fabulous."
"Yes, Max. Come with me." The duchess seized her arm and dragged her into the house.
Through the house, in fact, and to the other side. They reached a heavy wooden door. A parchment—yes, a real parchment with an official seal dangling from it—was fixed to this door. It read "Sie verlassen das Herzogtum Sachsen-Eisenach," and was signed by the duke.
This was the weirdest proclamation she had ever seen in her life. "Christine, what does that mean? We are leaving the duchy here?"
Christine showed a very wide grin. "Yes, it started as a joke some time ago. The duke was so tired one evening, he said that he would give anything to not be a duke for an hour or two. So I told him, why not? He could make a proclamation that he would retire and then re-inherit the duchy one hour later.
"You should have seen his face! His mind was really working on the proposal. Then he said, 'That will be much too much overhead, when I plan to do this on a regular schedule. But . . .'
"I left him alone with his thoughts. After a while he came up with this parchment. He said that he had to be a duke only in his own duchy. And as the king of Sweden had proved before, he could be a commoner beyond the limits. So if he proclaimed a part of our house as being no part of his duchy, everything would be okay."
Max shook her head; she never had been able to grok the feudalistic logic of multiple personas in one body.
"And when we moved here, he went one step further," Christine explained. She laid her hand against the door. "The space beyond this door is one, where nobody has any title or surname. We are only humans there.
"Everything you tell somebody else is considered confidential to the people in those rooms. We call it gray talk. If you want to tell something you consider as gossip, you have to announce that it is white talk. And if you want to talk to somebody special in complete confidentially, tell him or her that it is black talk." Then she opened the door.
It was a strange room. To the left she saw a wooden outer wall with many small glass windows and a door. So the afternoon sun filled the room with golden light.
Outside Max could see a snow covered area surrounded by a high hedge. A wooden walkway led from the door to a log cabin outside.
The large room itself contained a large round table in the middle surrounded by several wooden cots and armchairs. A table along a wall contained a beer keg, a number of mugs, plates and silverware. Bread, cheese, butter and so on . . . and she could identify an uptime-inspired chafing dish with burning lights below.
The back wall was covered with shelves half-filled with towels and a hanging rail with pale robes in different sizes.
Christine had followed her gaze, so she could comment. "The towels and robes are made from the first successful batch of terrycloth from our new textile factory in Eisenach. The fabric is not as soft as the American brand, but it's Made in Germany."
This was the same tone of elation she had noticed in the duke's voice this morning. No hubris, but rather that kind of pride she knew from her uncle and her father when they had shown her the buildings they and their fathers had designed and helped to erect.
Christine pointed to a large opening that led into another room. The walls were covered with tiles like an American bathroom and with copper equipment. "We have constant hot and cold water here from two different large reservoirs upstairs.
"But before you take your shower, I'll explain the sauna to you." Christine started to the outer door, Max followed.
When they entered the log cabin, it was hot—very hot—inside. A masoned stone cube opposite the door radiated an enormous amount of heat.
"Before you enter the sauna, you undress, take a cleansing shower, and wipe yourself dry. Then you take one of the large towels and use it as an underlay here. 'No sweat on the wood,' is the rule. You may stay as long as you feel comfortable; take the period of one of these sand clocks as a rough estimation. It's cooler on the lower bench, hotter on the middle one, and the top row is the barbeque for our male gorillas."
They rushed outside, before it got too hot. "After the sauna you use the shower again, preferably the cold one. You can use the pail shower." She pointed to a wooden pail, which hung above the height of her head. A rope fixed to it suggested that it could be tilted. "Or dunk in the pool here." It seemed that an enormous barrel like the ones in public bathhouses had been buried into the soil. "But the water is nearly frozen at the moment. This is mostly another device for our gorillas to show off."
Something was nagging in Max's mind. "Christine, do you mean to use all that naked? In the presence of men?"
"At least in the sauna, under the shower and in the pool." Christine smiled. "Sauna is a Finnish ritual. It's a social and even a business event there. It contains nothing sexual. I heard the Finns even integrate it into family parties.
"Oh yes, everybody will look up and down your body, and you will look up and down everybody else's body when you meet them the first time. But that normally fades within a minute or so. The rule is 'Only looking, no touching.'
"And remember, there are no titles in this area, so you can even tell Johann to take his dirty eyes off your naked ass, and he will obey. Ruth has done this more than once."
They had made it back to the big room. "If you think it's too much for you on your first day, you can take your shower here and head for your room. Nobody will blame you."
Max firmly shook her head, and then laughed. "No, I decided I could do anything. And I trust you when you tell me that the gorillas will keep their hands off me."
Christine had already begun to undress. "The easiest way to get used to this is to be already sitting naked in the sauna. Undressing in front of others is a more embarrassing thing."
****
Max sat down on the lowest bench, farthest away from the hell's oven. Christine sat opposite to her on the middle row. While they were chatting about the past day, the other guests arrived two by two. First were Samuel and his wife Ruth. The financial adviser's wife was a female mirror image of her husband. Nearly the same portly figure, nearly the same black hair, apart from the length.
Then Hans and Cornelia entered the sauna. Max managed to suppress her astonishment. Much more than a simple servant and bodyguard, I presume. Then a middle aged German couple, Peter and Anna, they introduced themselves and shook hands with Max.
And then the duke—no Johann, think of Johann within this area—made his appearance.
"Good evening, good evening, everybody," he announced loudly. "What a wonderful evening for a sauna."
He was the only one wearing his towel around his hips, but that was obviously because he was carrying a wooden pail filled with water in one of his hands and a large trowel in the other. He put the pail down next to the oven, removed the towel and sat down on it. He also had a small vial in his hand. He filled the trowel with a batch of water from the pail, and then dripped some liquid from the vial into the water.
A groan erupted from the men. "Oh no, Johann," Peter said. "You won't use that patchouli-shit again!"
"Sillä puheet kenellä kuuppa," was Johann's response. "You all know, 'who holds the trowel, holds the command.' You may use beer or birch for the next löyly. But this is my turn now. The patchouli was expensive enough and all the women love it." He smiled winningly around and flooded the stones on top of the oven with the contents of the trowel. Then he repeated it and did it for a third time.
At last he lay back and stretched, naturally on the top bench.
Initially Max couldn't notice anything, but shortly afterwards a sweet scent reached her nose. Unfortunately, it came with a wisp of very hot air, but she could stand it. And the scent was—delicious. She inhaled deeply and exhaled with a loud sigh. "Ahhh."
Everybody laughed. Cornelia said, "Johann, I think you have got a new convert."
"I anticipated this," was the obviously satisfied response.
While everybody was sitting—or lying—silently and more or less appreciated the scent, Max took heart and scanned over the d—Johann's body. He lay on his back higher than her eye level, so she was not tempted to inspect forbidden terrain.
Some old scars showed up, a bit of tummy, a bit of fat over some muscles. Not an Adonis, a man past his best years, but nothing ugly. His body even showed some color as opposed to her white belly, so he had apparently been exposing it to the sun in the past summer while she had been in her office, preoccupied with hiding from the world.
Her eyes met Christine's, and she could see an impish grin. Something seemed to work out for the older woman, and Max had the strange idea, she knew what that was. What? Has my face shown appreciation?
****
When they left the sauna, Max observed what looked like mating rituals of animals. The men jumped into the nearly frozen water with loud shouts and "Ah" and "Oh," left again and shook their bodies—oh yes, and their male attributes too—like wet dogs.
None of the women had tried even the pail shower. They headed to the warm showers inside as fast as possible. Then they donned their robes; the men had followed Johann's fashion and had wound their towels around their waists.
Everybody took a mug of beer. Johann proudly—again—stated, "This is from our new brewery in Eisenach. I've been sick of buying my beer in Köstritz or even farther away. It never recovers from the shaking on the transport. We've got the yeast directly from Munich, and the brew masters did a very fine job in my humble opinion."
He was not the only one who thought that. The beer was tasty. After they had settled around the center table, Peter started the chat with the innocent question. "So, Johann, what about the Wartburg? How is your new architect doing?"
Johann looked to Max, before he started to answer. She formed a "white" with her mouth without saying it aloud, and he nodded.
"Peter, it has come to a not small surprise that the fine young architect I talked about the last months is in fact sitting over there at the table." Nearly all faces turned to Max. She shrank a little under the gazes, but then straightened.
"Maximiliane von Pasqualini disguised herself as a boy to sneak into Bologna University and get her diploma. I couldn't believe it when I first heard it. It has something of the epic story of Captain Gars. And you know me, I was, of course, tempted to abandon him/her, when I learned that he was a she."
Everybody laughed.
"But Christine had much to say in her favor, even compared our horoscopes to persuade me that she was right. And what shall I say? Christine was right."
"As always," Christine added. A lot of laughter erupted.
Max could see that Johann really enjoyed the laughter, even at himself. This was the moment when she made her final decision.
"Yes . . ." Johann produced a sour grin. "Samuel nearly collapsed when I told him of all the new ideas we have developed on today's trip to the Wartburg."
"Johann, I am not sure that we will have enough money for all this modern rubbish."
"Yeah, and that is why Max had Meister Reinhard do a cost estimate for a conventional vault cellar to compare it to a modern concrete version. He was like wax in the fingers of this scheming woman." A warm smile in Max's direction accompanied the last words and completely took the sharpness out of them.
"And I'm rather sure that installing one of these large steam engines in advance will speed the construction so much that it will pay out even before the work is done.
"So to answer your question, Peter, she is doing fine, but we've only known each other for two days. Please ask again next week.
"And to change the subject, Hans, have you recently heard anything about the war in the Baltic?"
Christine rose and showed the patchouli vial. "One moment, please. Everybody who likes a sauna trip better than talking about the war may follow me now." As was expected, the group divided exactly at the gender border, and the five women headed outside.
After they had settled in the sauna, Christine said, "Max, it's obvious that everybody here wants to know more about you. If you don't want to tell, we all can understand . . ."
"No." Max straightened. "I have decided to change my life. And I don't want to hide anything. So everything I tell you now is white talk. Spread it where you want.
"Once upon a time lived an only daughter of a lower nobility family, who lost her virginity in the heat of the night to an oh-so-handsome young noble, whose name should not be told . . ." All the women giggled.
While a part of Max was telling her story, another part wondered at how easy it was disclosing something she had hidden for many years. She was not even embarrassed, but astonished at how positively Johann had introduced her and her past. From his point of view, it really was something worth an epic poem.
From his point of view . . .
****
Max told Christine that she wanted to have some black talk with Johann and her after the others had left. Now they were alone, Johann had also donned one of the robes and the three of them gathered around the center table.
Max looked down to the table, where her forefinger was painting circles in the beer that had been spilt during the evening.
"First . . ." Max stopped and had to clear her throat. "First of all, I want to thank you both. Johann, Christine, you are the best friends I have found, since—since Papa died.
"Johann, I think you were right to hit me with the wooden hammer instead of pussyfooting around me for some days. Sorry, Christine, I really believe, he was right."
Johann's fervent "Ha!" forced an eruption of laughter from all of them. Max looked up and saw the same elation again in his eyes. And in Christine's.
Christine leaned over and kissed her husband on the cheek. "One in a million!" she said and grinned.
"And," Max continued, "to describe my feelings at the moment, I am rather willing to do that here-nonexistent-duke and his wife the favor they asked from me."
Christine seized her husband's hand, brought her other hand to her mouth and let out a faint, "Oh!"
Now Max frowned. "But I have one precondition." She had to do this. She enjoyed the slight panic in both Johann's and Christine's eyes.
Max rose, and went around the table to stand before Johann and Christine. She took his right hand in her left and Christine's left hand in her right one.
"I don't want to do it for this duke. I want to do it for my friends."
****
Author's Notes:
Here are some words about Johann Ernst from Merkwürdige Geschichte von der berühmten Landgrafschaft Thüringen, (Remarkable History of the Famous Landgraviate Thuringia) by Superintendent Georg Michael Pfefferkorn in 1685: "In Eisenach resided . . . Herr Johann Ernst, whom Herr Johann Gerhard called 'delitias generis humani' (the most charming of the human race) in Thuringia, and who was fond of carpentry, and often exercised body-movement." Johann Ernst had even built a model of castle Grimmenstein where he was born, which was on display at the Wartburg.
As for the large entourage: When Johann Ernst attended a meeting in Naumburg in 1614 he came with 101 people, 82 riding horses and 60 coach horses. His brother Johann Casimir appeared with nearly double the number.
Johann Ernst's father, Johann Friedrich der Mittlere ("The Middle"), ordered his court marshal and his councilor in the year 1561 to assess the expenses of his court. They found that each day 400 people were eating at the court, which cost 46,800 guilders per year. They found that a single tailor would be needed, but thirty of them lived at the court. And they found—to their surprise—that the court spent more money than was taken by taxes.
The consequence was that Johann Ernst inherited 1 ½ million guilders of debts.
The large water basin visible in the Wartburg's yard was built in the middle of the nineteenth century. In the Middle Ages, at the same place, there was a much smaller cistern filled by mule caravans transporting the water from the Elisabethbrunnen in the slope about 150 feet below the castle. A water pipe was built in 1886 with a length of fifteen miles. It needs no pump, because it originates from a place higher than the top of the Wartenberg.
Yes, you can make terrycloth from linen, especially for the sauna.
The brewery Köstritzer in Köstritz near Gera has existed since 1543. Today it's—again—one of the largest breweries for Schwarzbier (black beer) in Germany.
The brewery in Eisenach was OTL founded in 1828, when the brew masters of the town decided to build a common cellar to store their beer; up to then beer was brewed in small family businesses.
The brewery in Eisenach was closed in the late 20th century, "Eisenacher Bier" was brewed in Erfurt, then transported to Chemnitz to be bottled.
The brewery was reopened in 2011 with the new slogan "A town, a castle, a beer: Eisenacher Wartburg."
****
To be continued . . .
