Preface
Rebecca Abrabanel greeted Mary Simpson and Lady Beth Haygood at her front door. She had been expecting Lady Beth. The sight of Mary made her smile.
“Mary,” she said, stepping aside to let them in. “I wasn’t expecting you. I could have come to your office and saved you the trouble. No need for you to traipse all the way over here.”
They kissed each other on the cheek, then Mary said, “It’s such a nice day, I decided I’d accompany Lady Beth and take a few minutes away from all the hustle and bustle of my busy life.”
And what a busy life it was, Recbecca noted. Mary Simpson was, without a doubt, one of the busiest women in Magdeburg, having the responsbilities of bringing art and culture to the city, as well as being one of its most high-profile philanthropists. She was a short woman, like Rebecca, but more in the Audrey Hepburn way, as Rebecca had heard many up-timers mention. That must mean that she was pretty, and there was no doubt about that either. Her shoulder length black hair was a little grey at the temples, but that only accentuated her regal appearance. Some down-timers mistook her for royalty, and she was often referred to as the American Lady, and sometimes, the Lady of Magdeburg. She played the part well.
Rebecca smiled. “I can understand that. Neither one of us has a moment to catch a breath these days. But you’re in luck today, ladies. Normally, my little tumblers are up and destroying the house by now, but listen to that peace and quiet… like heaven. Still sound asleep. Let’s hope it stays that way. Please, sit,” she said, motioning to chairs at the table, “and would you like some tea? Something to eat?”
“Tea would be great, thank you,” Lady Beth said.
“Just water for me, thanks,” Mary Simpson said, taking a chair and pulling herself up to the table.
Rebecca nodded and busied herself with heating tea and getting Mary Simpson a glass of water. “So, you ladies are here to discuss with me all the exciting things happening with the Magdeburg Arts League, is that correct?”
“Indeed,” Mary said. “It’s slow going. Slower than I would like, at any rate, but Lady Beth and I have many things planned for the coming few years.”
“Tell me,” Rebecca said, setting a glass of water in front of Mary.
Mary took a sip, then said, “We want Magdeburg to be the cultural center for the USE and, ultimately, for all of Europe. The new opera house is up and running, and that has brought a lot of talent in the performing arts to our humble little city. But we want to expand upon the visual arts as well. We want painters, sculptors, architects—you name it—to find a home here.”
“I’m all for that,” Rebecca said, checking the teapot on the stove.
“Yes,” Lady Beth said, entering the conversation abruptly. “We like the idea of Magdeburg being a free city, if you will, for art and art related endevours. Creativity and diverse artistic expression… that’s what we want here. And there are a lot of ways to do that, to encourage creative people from everywhere to come and share their ideas and talents.”
Rebecca was amazed at how different Mary Simpson and Lady Beth were, both physically and in demeanor. While Mary was short, regal, refined, and keenly attractive, Lady Beth was tall and lean. Not unattractive, by any stretch, but her features were more oblong than Mary’s rounder and smoother visage. Lady Beth also had a take-charge demeanor, not unlike her boss, but she was more direct and more willing to blurt out her feelings before checking them on their way out off her mouth. Some were put off by her abruptness. Rebecca often found it refreshing.
Mary said, “We’ve come to a dangerous time in European history, as you are well aware.” “What better way to help foment understanding and, perhaps, peace, than through cultural exchange? And we want to encourage women artists as well. I was quite surprised, I must confess, at the number of skilled Dutch women artists, and Italians also, that are among us here in this century. We’d like to expand that as much as we can, and try to bring more balance. I mean, among many other things, the Ring of Fire should stand for more equality of the sexes. Don’t you think?”
Rebecca nodded, and answered the whistling tea kettle by pouring Lady Beth a cup. “Absolutely. And I know Mike does as well.”
“I’m sure he does,” Mary said, taking another sip from her water. “It isn’t him I’m worried about. It’s… well, the population at large. With war going on in the east, with the Poles, and now with the Ottoman threat, and the fact that the English and the French and the Spanish aren’t necessarily our friends these days, I’m concerned about how such individuals would be treated if they come here for events that we have planned.”
“Well,” Rebecca said, sitting down with her own cup of tea, “what do you have planned?”
Lady Beth said, “Eventually, we want to host annual art expositions, where we invite artists from all over Europe to come and display their work. We want to set up the ability for them to sell prints of their paintings as well, if that’s viable, though we aren’t certain that the print technology exists yet to handle that. We have to look into it. We’d also like to encourage as many artists as we can to open studios here. Given the size of the population, and the number of visitors to our city, we can have a fair number.
“In time, we then want to expand out from art into other cultural exchanges, such as a science center, an annual music festival, and perhaps then a symposium where we discuss the impact of up-time art and music on down-time culture.”
“My,” Rebecca said, “those are lofty goals.”
Mary nodded and smiled. “They are indeed, and it will take a while for it all to bear fruit. First, we’re going to host a painting competition of some sort, and extend the invitation to all of Europe. A large mural of some kind, we’re thinking, although we haven’t yet settled on the details.”
“That sounds interesting,” Rebecca said, sipping her tea. “There are plenty of walls in this city to choose from.”
“Yes,” Mary said. “I’m sure we can find a suitably grand public building with a large interior space.” She shot a glance at Lady Beth, and Rebecca knew that that meant Mary was about to tell her why they—she, to be exact—really came.
Mary cleared her throat. “If Gustavus Adolphus would support our competition, and make it known to the public that he does so, then we would feel comfortable about putting out a broad invitation. We know that the king cannot be held reponsible for the behavior of every citizen of Magdeburg, but if the king supports the effort, then it’s less likely that there would be a large hue and cry about opening it up to, well, what some might call enemy states. We’re either going to open the competition up to all of Europe, or not do it at all.”
Rebecca took a moment to let Mary’s request settle in her mind. Simpson clearly wanted her to discuss this with Gustavus personally, since she was closer to him than anyone else at the table. Rebecca wasn’t against doing so, but perhaps now was not the best time. Gustavus was still recovering from his battle wounds, and matters of state always weighed heavily upon him. But if the request were to be made to him at all, it had to be soon, she knew. That war that had just been referred to could pull Rebecca away at any time--and Gustavus as well, for that matter.
“All right,” Rebecca said, “but we’ll go together. Why don’t you and Lady Beth settle on the details, and then I’ll schedule a meeting. We have to try to catch him on a good day, and soon. Sound good?”
Mary nodded. “Yes, thank you.” Mary sipped more of her water, then said, “So what else is going on with you, Rebecca?”
A light went on in her head. “Oh, speaking of art. I’m friends with Elaine O’Meara.”
Lady Beth nodded. “We know Elaine. She’s one of the league’s at-large members.”
“Yes. She sends me letters once in a while, updating me on what’s going on in Grantville. Recently she sent me a letter saying that there have been a number of down-time artists visiting there to look through the libraries in search of their work, including both pieces that they have already done, and pieces that they are going to do, in part to see how history has treated their legacy. There’s one artist she’s quite fond of. A fellow by the name of Daniel Block. He’s an older gentleman, with a young wife and child. She’s quite taken with how Block has embraced up-time styles and techniques. A court painter, I think she said, and apparently a very good one. Do you know the name?”
Mary and Lady Beth looked at each other with blank faces.
Mary shook her head, and said, “No, I’ve never heard of him. I’m surprised—I’ve spent a great deal of time examining Grantville’s art books to see who we might find in this time, and I’m sure his name didn’t appear even once or I’d have added him to my list.”
“Ah, strange,” Rebecca said, frowning.