‘Naturally. And naturally we would not want them getting any ideas about their own independence, would we? Somehow I suspect von Waldeck’s ambitions might be secular. Before we know it, the Protestants will be getting into bed with the Mohammedans as well as the Catholics. Frankly, it all seems rather obscene not to mention blasphemous.’
Barely controlling his anger Leopold snaps the stem of a pale yellow lily then immediately regrets it.
‘What are you proposing, Friar? Our audience is quickly drawing to an end.’
‘Detlef von Tennen—Gerhard’s brother—once a Catholic canon with the Cologne chapter is now a Protestant pastor whose lectures openly question both the divinity of the Bible and the territorial rights of your own dynasty, the exalted Hapsburgs, your highness.’
‘So I have heard, but what of it? He is in Holland—out of our reach, my good friar. Perhaps it would wise to resign ourselves to his maledictions…all after, they are only words.’
‘He gathers support, and draws interest from your own territories, including some powerful allies within the Wetterau Union.’
‘He does?’
Seizing his opportunity the inquisitor leans across.
‘Detlef von Tennen might be beyond our grasp but Gerhard von Tennen is not. I have a notion that might appeal, for it serves both of us, your majesty: namely, jolting Archbishop Heinrich into remembering who is his emperor and, at the same time, bringing the heretical canon to his knees.’
After glancing over his shoulder for spies, the friar steps forward to whisper into the royal ear.
‘I know where Detlef von Tennen is, and I believe there is a way of luring him to Cologne to stand trial.’
The emperor, brushing an attentive bee away from his face, sits down heavily on a large upturned flower pot and steels himself for the friar’s conspiratorial strategies.
Maximilian Heinrich stares out at the pouring rain. The half-built spire juts out lonely and abandoned. The archbishop has again failed to inspire the funds to resume construction of the cathedral; he has almost given up his vision of the massive Gothic structure soaring above all else in Cologne. Heinrich has felt the power of the Catholic church ebb away during the past four years. Detlef von Tennen’s shameful flight to Holland has not helped, nor his very public conversion to the Protestant church—worse, to one of its radical mutations that the decadent Netherlander liberalism seems to encourage like field mushrooms blossoming out of a pail of horse manure.
How could Detlef have betrayed his cousin so? Heinrich can find nothing comprehensible or forgiveable in the canon’s actions, as much as he has tried, examining Detlef’s exodus again and again. Rather it is a multitude of treacheries: first of the archbishop himself as his cousin’s spiritual guide; second of his role as Detlef’s mentor, having personally nurtured the young man’s career; and third, of his fellow aristocrats. As a Wittelsbach prince, Heinrich feels Detlef is morally obliged to remain loyal to the notion of birthright.
He has shat soundly on us all, Heinrich thinks, and now the family must bear the responsibility. To convert is one thing, but to marry and breed with a Jewish infidel? Unimaginable. Of course, all could be forgiven if the defector would only stop his sermonising and melt back into the forgettable marshes of Dordrecht, Delft, Amsterdam or wherever the devil it is the irritating man is currently lecturing.
Outside the window, a large raindrop hits the stained glass and rolls down to join a small pool gathering at the base of Saint Anthony’s burning feet, drowning two devils with dog’s heads and ridiculously over-sized corkscrew penises. Heinrich sighs out loud then turns to face Count Gerhard von Tennen, who stands waiting, an unfathomable smile playing over his thin lips.
Impatient, the count slaps his kid and lace gloves against his catalapha breeches, then finding the incense-laden atmosphere of the seminary a little close, sneezes loudly. In sympathy Heinrich offers him his snuffbox. The count, noting the royal crest and thus surmising that the powder is of top quality, takes a large pinch.
‘I must thank you for making such a long and precarious journey, Gerhard.’
‘Oh come, let us not overdramatise. The road is straight and well patrolled these days. Besides, your messenger was most adamant and not entirely without his charms.’
‘Indeed. How are things at Das Grüntal?’
‘Life there varies only with the seasons and thus is safely ensconced in the predictability of nature, unlike the rest of our world, Heinrich. In my mature years I have finally wearied of both court and politics.’
‘In that case I must apologise, for I bring you here on a political issue.’
A very slight twitch mars the count’s impeccable features as his jaw tightens.
‘I have had word from Vienna, from the emperor himself…’ Heinrich leans forward and places his hand on the count’s stockinged knee. ‘Our young renegade, your dear brother, causes them much concern. His outrageous sermons have come to Leopold’s attention. Detlef must be silenced, otherwise, my dear old friend, there is talk of discrediting the von Tennen name.’
‘What? Am I to be penalised for my brother’s desecrations?’
‘As a family originally titled by a prince of the Holy Roman Empire, your name and lands can be repossessed just as easily should the church choose to…’
‘You would not dare.’
‘It is not I but a far more insidious and dangerous element who already has much grievance against our errant cleric and his unfortunate choice of wife. The inquisitor arrives from Vienna in a fortnight. If I can persuade him that you will sway your brother into returning to this fair city and making a full and public confession of the error of his ways, then perhaps together we can thwart the will of Vienna, Rome and the Dominican.’
‘I have no power over Detlef, you know that.’
‘If you wish to retain your lands, you will find some influence, no matter what it takes.’