"At least none of the soldiers between here and there will know us. Maybe we could find somebody's armor and put it on," she said a little hopefully. "Disguise ourselves, you know. I've designed lots of costumes for masques and pantomimes. That's part of what a seamstress does, you know."
"You can think about costumes now? Here?" Marc was sloshing two buckets of water for every one that Susanna managed.
"I can think about costumes anywhere. Anytime. That's what I do. Sort of like you thinking about iron ore."
"Oh." Marc was going to have to think about that when he got a chance. "Well. We might find some armor that fits me. But not you."
"Maybe I could disguise myself as a stableboy or something. Since we're in the place they pen up the cavalry horses."
"You are disguised as a boy. You have been for weeks, now. Stableboys aren't any different from the rest of them, really."
"Oh. Yes, that's right. I'm getting used to it, I suppose. Being a boy. So I keep forgetting that I am one, a lot of the time. Did you ever give me a boy's name? I don't think so." Susanna looked around. "But I was wrong, I think."
"About what?"
"When I said that at least none of the soldiers between here and Riehen would know us. Look there, by the tent. It's the Bavarian captain and he definitely seems to be looking for someone. Us, maybe"
"Us," Marc said. "Ten to one, us. A hundred to one, us. Run."
"Don't run," Susanna said. "Steal a horse." She looked at him. "You can ride, can't you."
"I can ride, but…" Marc was going to say that he didn't think that this was the best option, but it was too late. Susanna was mounted. So he stole a horse, too.
At least, the captain was on foot. He would have to find a horse. They would have a head start. Maybe this hadn't been such a bad idea.
The Riehen militia was patrolling the marked boundary stones. So far, none of Duke Bernhard's troops had violated the line. The news was that the duke was negotiating with the city council; that he had promised that if they turned the Austrian woman over to him without incident, he would not invade the city's territory.
"Riders," one of them called.
Two riders. Behind them, not more than the width of the market square in Basel behind them, came a dozen more. Not shooting, though one of them was speeding up, trying to cut the boy off.
The Riehen militia stood silently, motionless, until the riders passed the boundary stones. Both riders reined up, or tried to. The man stopped and dismounted. "Get off!" he yelled at the boy, who was having more trouble reining in. He finally slowed the horse, turned it, came back, and jumped off.
The man slapped the rumps of both of the beasts, sending them back across the border. "Just borrowed!" he cried at the soldiers who had been in pursuit, and who had now come to a halt. Apparently, the soldiers did not intend to violate the boundary line. "No offense meant!"
The oldest militiaman looked at them. "What is this all about?" he asked.
"I was supposed to be meeting my father," Marc said. "In Basel." That was safe enough to say. It was also true, which he found vaguely comforting. "We had a little trouble getting through Duke Bernhard's camp around Lorrach.
"Things are sort of upset, right now."
"Really. We hadn't noticed," Susanna piped up. At the look Marc gave her, she closed her mouth again.
"What do we do with this smart-mouthed kid, Matti?" a younger man asked
"They're the Landvogt 's problem. Both of them. That's obvious. We can hold them for a few days. Maybe a boundary violation, maybe a customs violation, even though they sent the horses back. They don't have their baggage, so they probably don't have passports. If they have undeclared foreign money, it could be a currency violation. If they've been with the army over there, it could be a quarantine violation. The city council doesn't want plague being brought in."
"But Herr Wettstein is in Basel."
"They're still his problem. Take them down to the administration building and put them in a corner, somewhere. He won't have time to see them right away."
"If he's in Basel, why not send them across into the city to him?"
"Bridge closed. The council closed it at sunset. It's not going to reopen until they finish negotiating with Duke Bernhard."
"We haven't had time to declare any currency," Susanna protested. "You haven't even asked us to."
Marc was pulling a case out of the inside pocket of his doublet. "We do have passports," he said.
The oldest militiaman was still unmoved. "You're still Herr Wettstein's problem. Not ours. You'll just have to wait until all this is over."
Chapter 63
Potentiam Concupiscere
Lorrach
"I simply do not understand," Duke Bernhard said, "why all of them seem to be so surprised. I left the service of Gustav Adolf after his great insult to my honor, my reputation, after all. What caused them to expect that I would remain permanently in French service if a different course of action became, for some reason, more appropriate?"
Johann Freinsheim stood quietly, listening to the duke's meditations. He sincerely hoped that Duke Bernhard didn't ask for his opinion. He was not here to give his opinion. He was here to deliver a message from Margrave Friedrich V of Baden-Durlach.
On the one hand, Duke Bernhard's analysis seemed to be accurate. As far as Freinsheim could tell, "all of them" did appear to be surprised. "Most of them" at least. They also appeared to be disapproving. Certainly the French had been very surprised, not to say disapproving, when the duke had pulled his regiments away from their assigned position across from Mainz. He knew that definitely, having been working in the chancery when it happened.
Freinsheim realized that he was in no position to know Gustav Adolf's mind, but the king of Sweden's administrator in Mainz had certainly not hesitated to take advantage of the opportunity that Bernhard had offered to him, whether or not he was surprised by it; whether or not he approved of it.
Margrave Friedrich, certainly, was both surprised and disapproving. Freinsheim had come to the margrave at once, as soon as he succeeded in getting out of France. He felt obliged to him as well as to Professor Buxtorf for the timely warning he had received. Warnings, to be more precise-they had arrived by several ways. If he had stayed much longer-well, suspicion of collaboration with Duke Bernhard would have been almost certain to fall upon a German working in the translation division of the royal chancery. Under Cardinal Richelieu, it was common for suspicion to be followed by prompt action.
Whereas, Freinsheim thought righteously, he had not been collaborating with Duke Bernhard at all. Now But Duke Bernhard was looking at him impatiently. "Well?" he asked.
Apparently the duke did want his opinion. "Margrave Friedrich's father has been unswervingly loyal to the Protestant cause," he began a little uncertainly. "Perhaps this has led him to cultivate a certain admiration for steadiness of purpose and for, ah…"
His voice trailed off. Keeping your word once you have given it
… might not be the most appropriate thing for an emissary to say to the duke right now.
"Consistency in pursuit of one's goals," he finished.
"I have been quite consistent in the pursuit of my goals," Duke Bernhard said blandly. "From beginning to end. I would advise Margrave Friedrich to devote some consideration to what my goals are. If he is able to clarify that matter in his mind-which I doubt, if the letter you just delivered is a typical example of the way he thinks-then he may be moved to submit some slightly more acceptable proposal to me."
Duke Bernhard rose. "You may inform him that I do not regard his suggestions as an acceptable basis for beginning negotiations. If you care to wait, I will have my secretary draft a letter, so you may deliver a signed version, in writing."