"Shall I draw the curtains again?" Ruthger asked in the wan, watery light of Christmas morning that shone through into this, the uppermost floor of Saint-Germain's Antwerp house; it was set near the outskirts of the town, on a slight rise, inside a tall, wrought-iron fence, amid a cluster of newer buildings that had grown up around the four-hundred-year-old Old Mercers' Center where cloth of all sorts was still displayed for sale, but now that venerable building also housed jewel merchants and traders bringing cargo from the Spanish holdings in the New World.

Saint-Germain shook his head and sat up again on his ascetical bed, answering in the same Imperial Latin as Ruthger had used to address him. "No. Not while the noise goes on, certainly." He nodded in the direction of the single window in his bedchamber, that gave a view of neighbors' roofs and chimney-pots. "It should stop in an hour or so."

Bells sounded from the spires of the churches of Antwerp; the ringing to welcome Christmas was countered by a somber crowd of Protestants, walking through the city along the major streets, singing the hymns of Martin Luther and exhorting those late to Mass to throw off the oppression of the Church of Rome and embrace the reforms of Luther.

"If we are fortunate, there will be snow by midday; everyone will be driven indoors, so the holiday will not be marred by bloodshed," said Saint-Germain as he reached to draw on the Persian caftan of heavy black silk that served him as a chamber-robe. "I take it this household is up?"

"Indeed it is," said Ruthger. "All but three are gone to worship."

"That is ... most interesting," said Saint-Germain with a sardonic lift to the corners of his mouth that some might mistake for a smile.

"The three who remain are the stableman and his two children," said Ruthger at his most bland.

"He is a follower of one of the more extreme teachers, is he not? one inclined to pious simplicity and private enclaves?"

"Among other things, yes: he is a Hutterite," said Ruthger. "Hutter's followers have been expelled-"

Saint-Germain rose. "-from almost everywhere, as I recall," he said, stretching. "Just as well, then, that he and his children stay off the streets. There is trouble enough with regular Protestant factions and Catholics abroad today. I trust the staff will not do anything to spite them."

"Factions. Why call them after Roman racing corporations?" Ruthger wondered aloud.

"Because they are much the same in style: loyal to the point of obsession, unthinking in their endorsements, and determined to support their group in front of all opposition, even if it causes themselves damage to do so." Saint-Germain shook his head, and went on slowly. "The Church is much in need of change, but riots and burning will not bring improvement, it will only increase the Church's obduracy, which will push those protesting to more extreme positions, and soon both parts of the debate will be working to the destruction of the other side, as the Reds attempted to do to the Greens during Traianus' reign, and the Blues did when Constantine held his last Roman games."

"The Cathars and the followers of Pier Waldo fared badly, and they only defied, not opposed the Church," Ruthger reminded him.

"Yes, their manner might have been successful had Innocent III not been in a frame of mind to Crusade: he had to make an example of any hint of apostasy. In those times, news moved slowly, and that helped those groups who held together within their own regions. But the Pope was not then as he is now, and could not afford even passive opposition, not in 1208, while you and I were in China and had to rely on Olivia for all our news of the West. He put England under interdict in the same year, and Henry Tudor is making England's response at last, three centuries later, when news travels much faster, and information is available to many more people," said Saint-Germain with a solitary shake of his head. "In the thirteenth century, the Church needed the revenues from its holdings in the south of France. Corruption did not vanish from the Church because the Cathars or Waldensian heretics identified it, and paid dearly for their temerity, nor will it now, in spite of each new Protestant divine. Now the Church does not want to lose its revenues from northern Europe, so Luther and his like must be suppressed."

"Do you think the Church will succeed?" Ruthger turned as an especially loud peal echoed over the city.

Saint-Germain thought a bit, and answered slowly. "That is still uncertain. The Church has more than Protestants to contend with, which adds to the complications. If the Church can stem the tide from the Ottomans, then perhaps it will prevail, but in the meantime, the strategy it has chosen serves to entrench opposition, not to unite the faith, to deal with the Spanish power that has influenced so much of the Italian peninsula. And by tightening its hold, the Church drives more and more of its flock away. This time, the conflict could do worse than start a Crusade, it could sunder whole nations. You remember how often Roman politics mixed with the Great Games, using the sporting alliances to influence political issues. This is much the same; this morning there are Protestants marching in the streets, daring the Church to stop them, just as the racing factions used to do in Rome, but with more dire consequences facing them."

"They are willing to accept the consequences, or so they claim. They would tell you that their dispute is over faith and God, and the failure of the Church, not winning teams of horses," said Ruthger, watching the movements in the streets below.

"That would not change the damage they do, except to make it more bitter," said Saint-Germain.

"We will hope for snow," said Ruthger, going to adjust the coverlet and sheets on Saint-Germain's narrow bed.

"Yes; we will," said Saint-Germain, stepping into thick-soled slippers; their lining of his native earth counteracted the enervation of the sunlight. He rubbed his chin, remarking as he did, "I believe it is time I was shaved, and my hair trimmed. I begin to feel a bit scruffy."

"So I have thought since we arrived here, four days ago," said Ruthger. "You are receiving three of the authors whose books you have published, through your various presses in the Lowlands, this afternoon. You will want to make a good appearance, I think."

"How diplomatically done, old friend. You are right: I should present myself well-not only to impress them, but to show that I am in a position to provide them support, should they need it. So, if you would, plan to bring your razor and your scissors as soon as I finish my bath." Saint-Germain considered a long moment. "I'll want the Flemish doublet Giules d'Attigny made, the woollen barrel-hose, and the chamarre in red-black wool. One white chamise, a silk one, and my black-sapphire pectoral on the silver-link collar. And the Flemish buckled shoes; the earth lining has been replaced, I trust." He glanced at the window. "Do you remember how d'Attigny looked when Karl-lo-Magne ruled here?-Or what this region was like?"

"It was a wild place-but then, so was all Franksland," said Ruthger. "This portion of the land was all forest and open fields, leading to salt marshes, with a few small villages and fishing towns."

Saint-Germain steepled his fingers, only the tips touching, and made a circuit of the room, the hem of his caftan whispering along the planks of the floor as he walked. "I was much taken with this region, then; and later, during the Black Plague, I-" He stopped. "And now, another burden is imposed on this district, and its people."

"Of their own making," Ruthger remarked, a suggestion of disapproval in his tone of voice.

"At the instigation of zealots, each purveying his own state of grace," Saint-Germain amended. "I had hoped that the rancor would diminish, but it seems unlikely now; that saddens me."

"I fear you are right," said Ruthger, and changed the subject. "You have asked the authors to dine with you, haven't you?"

"Actually, I believe the invitation said I offered them a Christmas meal, which I intend to do; I spoke with Harcourt day before yesterday, so he could prepare," he said carefully.

"He said he had purchased two geese for the occasion," Ruthger informed him. "And last night he had a fish delivered from the market still flopping in the basket."

"Very good," said Saint-Germain. "Harcourt seems a capable cook."

Ruthger chuckled. "You have sampled his cuisine, my master?"

"Because I do not eat does not mean I cannot smell," Saint-Germain said, and went on crisply, "I will want to bathe around midday, but until then, I have a few matters to attend to in my laboratory." He gestured to the large room beyond this one, where he had installed his athanor and other equipment.

"Is there anything you will need me to do for you?" Ruthger asked.

"Make sure there is extra wood for all the fires, old friend. Today this house must be warm everywhere." He regarded Ruthger, an expression between amusement and determination on his attractive, irregular features. "I wish to provide the household every incentive to remain indoors today."

"Out of harm's way," Ruthger agreed; Saint-Germain inclined his head in agreement. "I concur. I will see that the fires are built up. Will you need me until midday?"

"I doubt it; do as you wish with the time," said Saint-Germain.

"I will have my meal in peace in the kitchen, while most of the household is gone; no one will remark that I eat my meat raw, which I believe will serve us all in good stead. The less strange you and I appear, the less likely we are to attract unwanted attention," Ruthger announced. "This time I have a very fine, plump partridge and a pheasant. I put the birds into wine as soon as I killed and dressed them."

"I can but imagine," said Saint-Germain, waiting until Ruthger left the room to venture into his laboratory, where a handsome, new clock kept fairly reliable time on the wall above his work-table. As he sat down, the hands indicated it was almost nine; the next time he looked up, the hands read 12:31. Saint-Germain set his work aside and left the laboratory, bound for his bathroom on the floor below. The household bustled around him as he watched Ruthger supervise the filling of his tub from buckets of hot water fresh from the stove, and as he sank into the bath, he could smell the aroma of geese stuffed with chestnuts rising from the hearth two floors below.

Shortly after two, Saint-Germain appeared in the reception hall, all rigged out in his finery, his hair trimmed, his jaw newly shaved, and the silver links of his collar gleaming against the red-black of his chamarre and black doublet. On his small, beautiful hands, fine rings shone and winked. Nine of his servants found excuses to come to the main floor to have a glimpse of him as he put three elegant Venezian glasses in order on a tray of antique Chinese brass. He then took down an ornate bottle of liqueur and set it next to the glasses.

"Is everything satisfactory, Grav?" asked Simeon Roosholm, the steward, as he came into the reception room.

"In this chamber, most certainly. I trust the dining hall is ready?" He turned in the direction of the door leading to the dining hall. "And Harcourt's staff is prepared?"

"Yes, to both," said Roosholm, a man of twenty-five whose bearing and demeanor suggested complete steadiness. Half a head taller than Saint-Germain, and lean on a large, square frame, he wore a long doublet in dark-blue over a lawn chamise, with a sprig of holly pinned near the collar as a token of the season. The only possible flaw in his appearance were his ears, which were round and red and stuck out from his face like two half-saucers, but this was his affliction to endure, and he did that as he did everything else-stolidly.

"And provision was made for the staff to dine well," said Saint-Germain, watching Roosholm narrowly.

"Yes. My wife has devoted the day to making preparations in the servants' hall, and provided the tokens for all, as you have told her to do. I am sure all is to your satisfaction, Grav." He rocked back on his heels in a show of pride for his wife, who was responsible for all the hangings, curtains, draperies, bed linens, and napery in the household. "You may be certain that she has done her utmost."

"You have a most worthy spouse," said Saint-Germain.

"I thank God for her every day," said Roosholm with feeling.

"And never more so than on Christmas Day, I should imagine," said Saint-Germain, walking around the reception room and making note of the decorations: holly over the doors, gilded acorns in a bowl on the central table, and fir branches hung on the expanse of the chimney. He had ordered that there be nothing to dismay either Protestant or Catholic, and found himself pleased with what Roosholm and his wife had achieved. "I take it the dining hall is as well-decorated as this room."

Roosholm nodded in the direction of the arched doorway that led to the dining hall. "If you would care to look? All is in readiness."

Saint-Germain surprised his steward by opening the door himself; he paused to take in the cavernous chamber, noting that there were sprays of evergreens over all the windows, although the curtains were drawn, and a wreath of holly over the fireplace. "This is most satisfactory, Roosholm."

"So long as it is to your liking," said Roosholm.

"That it is. I hope you will have a feast reflective of my pleasure," said Saint-Germain.

"We are having a roast suckling pig, as you permitted, stuffed with apples and leeks," said Roosholm, a bit of hesitancy in his remark, as if, now that the meal was being cooked, he had over-stepped his mark.

"Excellent," Saint-Germain approved. "A keg of beer is set aside, I hope, for your celebration."

"It is," said Roosholm, increasingly uncertain.

"Very good. It is fitting that you should keep merry on this night." He began to smile slowly. "Do not bother about my guests. I will attend to them, and I will see that the dining hall is not neglected."

Roosholm winced: "It isn't right that you should be a servant, not when you have a staff to attend to your guests."

"For any festival but this one, I would agree. But tonight, it is fitting that the lowly be raised up and the high practice humility." He had thought of this explanation during the morning in his laboratory, and realized he had guessed correctly. "Let me have this honor, Roosholm, and you will have no reason to feel slighted or compromised."

"Since you are determined upon this course, I can but comply, with the thanks of all your staff." The stiffness of his speech belied the smile in his eyes.

"Then make your last examination, and go join the rest," said Saint-Germain. He favored Roosholm with a suggestion of a nod.

"You are most gracious, Grav," said the steward. "Doubtless your humility will be well-received in Heaven."

"So long as my guests are satisfied, I will be, as well," said Saint-Germain.

"Do you plan to admit them to the house as well?" Roosholm asked.

"Ruthger will do that for me. It is quite appropriate, under the circumstances," said Saint-Germain. "I will not bring any discredit upon you, Roosholm. It would reflect badly on us both if I did."

Roosholm coughed once. "I will inform your staff of your decision, and we will drink your health for the coming year."

"For which I thank you," said Saint-Germain, and indicated the door leading to the servants' part of the house. "Once the dinner dishes are brought to the dining hall, all of you will be released from your duties until tomorrow morning. Harcourt may choose which of the pages will carry the platters into the dining hall, and then they, too, will be at liberty. Tomorrow you may supervise the distribution of food to the poor."

"As you wish, Grav," said Roosholm, fretting but unwilling to challenge Saint-Germain's specific instructions. He bowed rigidly, turned, and left the dining hall.

Saint-Germain went to the fireplace and laid another log on the fire, watching closely until it began to burn. He was about to light the candles in the standing chandelier in the center of the table when the knocker sounded. Leaving the dining hall and closing the door, he took up his position in the reception room, choosing a place to stand that would welcome his guests without causing them to be too put off by his obvious high station, or too rebuffed by what might appear a lack of consequence. He could hear steps approaching, and then a light scratch on the door. "Enter," he called to Ruthger.

The four guests accompanying Ruthger crossed the threshold, then paused, taking in Saint-Germain as well as waiting to be announced.

"Grav Saint-Germain," said Ruthger in very good Flemish, "allow me to present Seur Evangeline, the aunt of Erneste van Amsteljaxter; and Deme Erneste van Amsteljaxter."

The nun, in the simple habit of a Sister of the Assumption, curtsied moderately, her eyes averted. "May God bless you, Grav, and give you long life," she said quietly; she did not extend her hand, but held apart from him and the rest with the studied composure.

"Thank you, Seur; I have been fortunate in my longevity," said Saint-Germain, and gave his attention to Erneste van Amsteljaxter. "It is a pleasure to meet you, Deme; I admire the fine work you have done."

Dressed in a slate-colored silken, triangular-sleeved saya and a closed skirt without embroidery over a very moderate farthingale, only a small, lace ruff to set off her face and provide cuffs for her inner sleeves, her pale-brown hair pulled back and covered by a cap similar to those worn by scholars, Erneste strove to appear as unfemale as the strictures of fashion would allow. She curtsied slightly, daring to look Saint-Germain directly in the face as she did. "I must thank you for considering my work, Grav, and for allowing me to have my book printed. Many another press-owner would not so extend himself."

"More fools they," said Saint-Germain, and indicated the chairs near the hearth. "If you and your aunt would care to sit down?"

"I am Hildebrandt van der Horst," said the next guest, a man nearing forty, with graying hair and worn face, in a long, deeply pleated scholar's robe. His manner was as severe as his style. "You printed my work on-"

"Diseases Afflicting Cattle, Goats, and Sheep, with Treatments and Palliative Methods for Such Maladies," Saint-Germain told him. "An excellent compendium, and one I think must be welcomed everywhere."

Van der Horst was almost struck silent. "Most gracious," he mumbled.

Ruthger stood next to the last man, who wore a ribbed doublet and padded short-hose in the style favored in England. "This is the Honorable Bradleigh Milestone, recently come from Oxford."

"My lord Grav," said Milestone in poor Flemish.

"I take it your father is a knight, Signor' Milestone," said Saint-Germain in English, offering a little bow.

"Sir Laughton Milestone, yes," he said with every sign of relief. "Your Amsterdam press published my treatise on the political implications of-"

"International mercantilism," Saint-Germain finished for him. "Yes. A most innovative premise, and an intriguing conclusion."

Milestone nodded, less surprised than van der Horst had been. "I am afraid it has not been as well-received in the institutions of government as I had hoped it would be."

"Thus your visit to Antwerp," Saint-Germain ventured, and went on in the stilted Latin of scholarship. "You are all welcome to my house; you honor me in coming here." To emphasize this, he went and filled the three glasses with the savory liqueur he had put out for that purpose. As he carried these back to his guests, he went on, "This is a cordial of ancient lineage. I trust you will enjoy it, and consider it my pledge of friendship and continuing support for your work." He offered the tray first to Erneste, who took the glass, holding it up to the light of the dense cluster of tall wax candles standing in front of a mirror of Venezian glass, providing light and concealing the lack of reflection of his hand.

"The color," she said. "It appears changeable."

"It is a pale, clear green," said Saint-Germain, nodding to her as he presented the tray to van der Horst, who took the glass as if he feared it might break.

"Most ... intriguing," van der Horst said as he sniffed the contents of his glass.

"You are having none?" Milestone asked as he took the third glass.

Rather than answer directly, Saint-Germain said, "I am your servant this evening, in recognition of the importance of the day. I will not eat or drink with you; instead I will do as the great men of Fiorenze have done in times past, and I will wait upon you." Thinking back to the last Christmas feast he had taken with il Magnifico, he looked directly at Milestone. "You have nothing to fear, Signor'. You will come to no harm at my hands."

"You gave no glass to the nun," van der Horst challenged.

"No; I have been informed that she takes only sacramental wine and will not touch strong spirits." Saint-Germain ignored van der Horst's snide tone. "I respect her wishes."

"Then she must be pleased that you have not put her to the embarrassment of refusal," said Milestone, also in scholars' Latin.

Seur Evangeline looked down at her hands, remarking as if to the forest of tapers in front of the mirror, "It is not for me to be embarrassed by another's deeds."

A moment of awkward silence fell, only to be broken by Ruthger's return, announcing, "Your meal will be presented shortly. If you will please enter the dining hall?" He opened the door and stood aside while Saint-Germain's strange assortment of guests trooped into the room, their expressions alert without being completely genial.

"Comity may be hard-won, my master," Ruthger said to Saint-Germain in an under-voice as he stepped back, closing the doors again, and shutting himself out of the dining hall.

Text of a letter from Capitan Ferrando de los Cerros to Bishop Varne Govert of Antwerp, written in Church Latin, and delivered by Frey Rafael.

To the most esteemed Bishop, Varne Govert, Capitan Ferrando de los Cerros sends his greetings on this, the 19thday of January, 1531 Anno Domini, to report on the origins of recent events of disruption and heresy which have plagued Antwerp of late.

Of those who profaned the holy day of Christmas with their marches and their Lutheran hymns, we have detained fifteen of the leaders, nine of whom are prominent men, and have applied to the courts for relief from their incarceration. I fear that when they have pleaded their case, they will be released to cause more mischief. I apply to you for your recommendation on how best to deal with these men. Were it for me to decide, I would cut out their tongues and blind them so that they could preach no more disobedience to Holy Church, nor could they pollute their souls with heretical texts. But it is not my office to do such things without your order, and so I apply to you for that, or to enforce whatever sentence you are moved to impose.

In addition, I have ordered the destruction of nine presses, for they have published works that do not meet with the approval of the Church, and so must be eliminated from this city, so that they can work no more mischief in the world. As you must already know, publishing of profane books has become unfortunately common in this part of the world, and so it is incumbent upon us to stop all presses not engaged in printing holy texts. Let these secular publishers seek some otherwhere to practice their apostasy; until the Church has lost its sway if they wish to pollute Christendom with works that turn men's eyes from the Glory of God to those mundane concerns that interfere with the teachings of the Church in regard to the workings of this world, they must accept the consequences of their impiety.

Let us rejoice that the King and Emperor Charles has vowed that his son will be raised and educated in Spain, so that we will have a King who is truly one of us, not an Austrian advanced by marriage to the leadership of the richest nation on earth, and who will know that heretics are not to be permitted to sully the faith of God. May that happy day come before we are overwhelmed with Protestants and worse.

I have enclosed with this copies of the reports of the men working for various publishers regarding the works they are presently making available. Those with the most suspect lists are presented first, those with the least are presented second, and those with the lists with the least consistency in point of view are presented last. Many of those in the third grouping have tended to address issues of what may be called science, that is, the study of things in nature. These works are the most subtle, for although they may have no superficial religious implications, their cumulative perspective may serve to undermine the faith of many by attempting to remove from God's Law such things as the nature of the world, the importance of animals, domestic and wild, in God's Plan, and the measurements of the earth and heavens, beyond those already set forth in Holy Writ. Of particularly dangerous content are those works based on the discoveries in the New World, for all such compilations can bring into question what other matters God may not have imparted to us, and thereby undermine the faith of those who deal with such matters.

I await your decisions in regard to these reports, and I will act promptly to carry out your will as soon as you have stated it.

Yours in the Name of Christ,

Ferrando de los Cerros, Capitan

in Antwerp, by my own hand

P/S: Copyright -->www_novelfreereadonline_Com

***