She pushes him off. ‘Which are?’
‘That you attend the next collegiate meeting in Rijnsburg which, it is said, a great mind and a great mentor has promised to attend.’
‘Benedict Spinoza?’
‘The renegade Hebrew himself, and with your attendance he should feel most at home.’
‘And who am I to be, Detlef? Felix van Jos, the earnest apprentice? Ruth bas Elazar Saul, the heretic midwife? Or the good Frau Tennen?’
‘It is time you wrote to him as your true self. They say that Spinoza is much troubled over Adriaan Koerbagh’s death.’
‘We all are—it is a warning that should be heeded, Detlef.’
‘Perhaps. But I refuse to live my life in fear. I will preach what I preach and suffer the consequences.’
‘What about us, your family?’
‘You have my love and protection, always, Ruth. Enough gloom. You must come with me to the meeting. I am sure it will be of great solace to Spinoza to see an old associate.’
‘Perhaps.’
They are interrupted by Jacob demanding that he be told, again, the story about Hanke the mouse and how he was taken by the terrible stork.
Leopold bends over a tall pale pink orchid and sniffs at it tentatively.
‘Some of these blooms are entirely without scent. One wonders if they are to be pollinated by colour alone.’
The emperor, dressed in his morning robe, stands in the baroque conservatory where he is dwarfed by a cascade of tropical plants and ferns, all gifts from allied colonies.
‘It is a magnificent plant, a veritable feat of creation. A present, your highness?’
The inquisitor, his face etched more deeply with the frustrations of the past four years, sniffs at the offered flower then sneezes vigorously. Leopold, amused by the priest’s obvious lack of sensuality, smiles.
‘From the Grand Fez of Morocco—he courts me for he fears Sultan Mahomet. So, Inquisitor, what urgent information do you have for me that brings me from my morning repose?’
Carlos steps closer.
‘I believe you have been having some trouble with the ambitious Georg Friedrich von Waldeck.’
The emperor looks up sharply. As much as he personally dislikes the friar he cannot help but admire his political astuteness. For a second he envies the Dominican his spies.
‘The leader of the Wetterau Union, like many of the Wittelsbach princes of the Rhineland, is nervous about the Dutch war. He fears it will spread,’ Leopold replies cautiously.
‘So much so that he has opened his court to his Catholic counterparts…unusual for a Protestant.’ The friar’s smile broadens.
‘Indeed.’
‘In fact I hear that our good friend Count von Tennen has started a flirtation with von Waldeck. Von Tennen has supplied you with both troops and money in the past to fight the Turk, has he not?’
‘Along with many of the Wittelsbachs.’ Leopold plunges a hand into a flower pot and rubs the soil between his fingertips.
‘A clan so loyal that even Maximilian Heinrich has been seen in the company of von Waldeck. Perhaps Cologne will join the Wetterau Union.’ Carlos’s voice is rich with sarcasm.
Leopold looks away, trying to control a nervous tic in his eye. This is indeed news to him: after Count Gerhard von Tennen’s hospitality towards his nephew, the emperor had thought it safe to count on von Tennen’s future loyalty. But Maximilian Heinrich…he is a constant anxiety.
‘It is only natural that the German leagues should feel insecure. Who wouldn’t with that buffoon de Witt in the west and Louis?
? greedy French fingers spreading out from the south-east?’