"What's he doing?"
"The longer he manages to hang on to them, the tighter he's squeezing the Catholics. He started out in 1631 just swiping valuable stuff, but being pretty generous about letting the ordinary people keep their religion. But as time goes on, first one church and then another gets handed over to the Protestants; first one and then another Catholic priest gets exiled, till there's just one little church in each town where he allows Catholic services. He fires the Catholic schoolteachers. Then the Jesuits have to go; then the Franciscans and Benedictines and the other religious orders. Then he introduces a religious test for holding public office. So far, he hasn't made it illegal to be Catholic, but it's definitely creeping Calvinism, now that he sees some prospect that Gustavus Adolphus will grant them to him as permanent possessions. SOP, pretty much, for seventeenth-century Germany when a ruler who has one religion takes over a territory that has another."
"What about this pilgrimage church Andrea was talking about?" Fred Pence asked.
"According to Steve Salatto," Wes said, "the purpose of this exercise is to keep resources out of the hands of the CPE's opponents. So they can't use them to oppose the Confederated Principalities of Europe. Are the pilgrimages compulsory?"
"Not by law, no," Andrea answered. "I suppose that if a priest sticks someone with a pilgrimage as a penance, it's sort of morally compulsory. But the constable or bailiff isn't going to make the guy go."
"Does it have income?"
"Just what the pilgrims donate. It doesn't have farms or estates or anything attached that support it with dues."
"I don't think we need it," Wes said. "If it's going to cost him money to keep it up, pay the priests and so on, give it back to the abbot, land title and all. Make that a rule. If it's going to cost the abbot money, give it back to him. Parochial schools, the seminary for boys who are studying to be priests, and stuff like that. If it's going to generate income, keep it."
He leaned back and yawned. "Solomon had nothing on me when it came to snap decisions."
Ways and Means
Fulda, April 1633
"Your administration has abolished the tithes," the abbot said.
"Yep." Roy Copenhaver took a drag on his clay pipe. He still missed cigarettes, but the region right around here was about the largest manufacturer of clay pipes in Europe, from cheapos to deluxe.
"Not just the tithes that the church actually collected itself, but the ones that other investors had bought up as well."
"So they can sue us. They probably will. It doesn't make any difference in the long run. Everybody's busy. Congress didn't get around to making a law. Mike Stearns didn't get around to issuing an executive order. Steve Salatto didn't get around to sending us any general edict. We had to do something. Whatever Wes decided to do about it, somebody would have sued us, so we just wiped the things out as far as Fulda is concerned. We're building legal fees into the budget request for the next fiscal year."
"As the secular government, you are now collecting the taxes."
"That's true, too."
"And you have confiscated the abbey's estates that produce income in the form of rents and dues."
"Ummn-hmmn. That's what you get for running off with Tilly and hanging out with Wallenstein, pardon my French."
"So how do you expect me to support all the things that you have so generously returned to the church? How do I pay for roofs for the schools and matrons for the orphanages and priests for the churches?"
"Pass the plate. That's how we did it up-time. If they really want the stuff, they'll cough up the money. Nobody says you can't lay a guilt trip on them, even. Try sermons. My wife Jen and I were Pentecostals, up-time. That's how our preachers did it."
"Were?"
"Are. But our church was outside the Ring of Fire. There's an old retired preacher, Reverend Chalker, who was caught in it. Must be eighty years old. He was visiting Lana Soper at the assisted living center when it hit, and he's been holding tent services. We should manage to get a temporary building up fairly soon, but there aren't very many of us."
Roy looked at the abbot. "Stop feeling sorry for yourself. You're in a lot better shape here in Fulda than we are back in Grantville. You saw St. Mary's. Nice church building, right downtown. Bet you never got out into the Five Hollows to take a look at our little arrangement."
"I suppose there's something to be said for poverty," the abbot said. "Beyond the fact that it's in the Rule of Saint Benedict. Which got more than a little stretched over the centuries, as you can tell."
"What?"