1635_ Cannon Law - Eric Flint [209]
"I agree that the financial damage will be extensive, Your Majesty," Olivares said smoothly. He needed to divert the king from too much thought on the subject of Italian rebellions. At least for the moment, when he was in such a fury.
In point of fact, Olivares was quite sure they faced something considerably worse than the usual rebelliousness of Neapolitans. He had not mentioned in his report—and now thanked God that he hadn't—the last item of information. That Borja had not only overthrown the existing pope, but that he had also managed to let Urban escape. And to do so, to make the disaster complete, with the assistance of the USE embassy to Rome!
Was it really too much to ask, that a madman not be a complete incompetent as well?
Thankfully, Villanueva was finally coming to his senses. Realizing the precipice that the royal anger might plunge them over, the protonotario hurried to add: "My reports are that the latest bullion fleet from the New World will be bringing more silver than usual, Your Majesty. I think—combined with some tax levies, no way now to avoid them—that we will manage well enough."
That caused the first break in Philip's escalating temper.
"Really?" he asked.
Villanueva gave the king a nod of such assured confidence that Olivares forgave him his recent sins. For all the world, you'd think Don Jerónimo actually knew what he was talking about.
Which, he didn't. Villanueva knew just as well as Olivares did that there was no way, this early, to be sure what amounts of bullion would be coming over from the New World. Even leaving aside the ever-present danger of piracy, which was especially acute now with the remnants of the Dutch fleet still at large in the Caribbean.
But the count-duke was not a man to sneer at blessings, wherever they were found and however gilded they might be.
"Indeed, Your Majesty," he said, lying just as smoothly as Villanueva had. "Furthermore—"
In the end, it worked out as well as Olivares could have hoped for. The king was still furious, but had bowed to necessity.
"We simply have no choice, Your Majesty. Yes, Borja's actions were completely unsanctioned and went far beyond any instructions we gave him. But the fact remains that to disavow him now would simply produce a still worse situation. Your brother's disaffection in the Low Countries"—he was tempted to call it treason, but refrained—"is sure to deepen. I fear also that our Austrian cousins will do the same, now that Ferdinand II has been succeeded by his son."
And there was another casualty of Borja's insane ambition. In truth, Olivares had looked forward to dealing with Ferdinand III instead of his predecessor. The son was three times as smart and not given to his father's pigheadedness. Unfortunately, that same intelligence would now lead him away from Spain, not toward it. Olivares was just as glumly certain of that as he was that he would soon face rebellions and uprisings all through the Italian peninsula.
"But for all those reasons," he continued, "we have no choice but to hail the restoration of the true faith to the See of Rome. The coming storm is of Borja's making, not ours—but a storm it will surely be. To throw over Borja would be to throw over our oars as well as the mast that Borja himself demolished."
That evening, Olivares had two other meetings. No broad councils, these, but secretive affairs.
The first was with the envoy from Monsieur Gaston. Whom Olivares had carefully ignored in the past, but could do so no longer. With Spain now divided still further from both other branches of the Habsburgs—he cursed Borja yet again—the empire could no longer afford the luxury of a careful policy with regard to France.
"Yes," he told him. "We will supply you with money. Troops also, if need be. But!"
He wagged an admonishing