1816: the Grandest Tour

Italy: Chapter 2

It was a wild stab in the dark, but against all odds it seemed to work. Once the guards had unpacked all the cumbersome tubes, beakers, and assorted scientific bric-a-brac, Tobias explained the purpose of it to the wondering Austrian officer. George reasoned that no spy worth his salt would travel with such a ridiculously impractical equipage, and so apparently did the portly official.

The border office released them with much courtesy and belated welcomes to the Austrian Empire, and with everything re-packed and loaded they trundled into the mellow heart of Salzburg. It didn't take long to find a suitable inn, and after unpacking and relaxing for an hour they set out to have a look at the town.

"That was a bit of a fright," George murmured to his friend as they walked through the quiet nave of the local cathedral. It was in the Romanesque style – round arches rather than the pointed ones seen in Gothic structures – and according to their guidebook was one of the earliest Italianate churches in the German-speaking countries. They practically had the place to themselves, so felt more secure speaking freely.

"I agree," said Tobias, rubbing his temples in exasperation. "Quick thinking on your part with the baggage. Thanks."

"Don't mention it," said George. "All the same, I reckon we'd better find a new guide as soon as we can. Someone who knows the lay of the land."

"Quite so. Herr Goethe was right!" Tobias ran his hand over the smooth, cold surface of a marble column. "The Austrian Reich is a different country altogether..."

Before they retired for the night, Tobias made an inquiry at their inn for any trustworthy fellows with local knowledge. The innkeeper was noncommittal at first, but promised to ask around.

They passed most of the following day quite pleasurably in one of the Prince-Archbishop's former palaces. Before his deposition a few years earlier he'd lived in two of these, but now they were in the hands of a secular government. In the first palace they were delighted to find a picture gallery of considerable merit, with representative works from both the Northern and Italian Renaissance in several genres.

When the three travelers returned to their inn they found a man awaiting them.

"Otto Stierlitz!" said the man, offering his hand to George, Tobias, and Isaac in turn.

"How do you do!" Tobias said cheerfully. "I'm afraid I'm the only one of our party who speaks much German," he said in German, "but I presume Herr Grüber told you of our need?"

"So he did," said Otto, nodding brightly. He was a man about their years, perhaps a little bit older, and of medium height. His dark hair and mildly handsome face were the sort you could easily lose in a crowd.

"But you messieurs need not worry on that account," he said in passable French, surprising them all. "I'm a veteran of the late wars, you see, and during some time imprisoned by Napoleon's army I picked up a good deal of their language."

"But that's wonderful!" said Tobias, switching to French as well. "In that case we should have no trouble at all. How fortunate indeed!"

George and Isaac agreed it was a welcome development – they would be able to talk to the guide without Tobias having to translate. The three tourists went in to the bar to talk further and agree on his terms, and Tobias made sure to thank Mr. Grüber himself for so promptly furnishing a solution for their need. The innkeeper mumbled a vague reply with a half-nod, but Tobias was too pleased to think anything of it.