The Mapmaker of Mitau
Jakob's capital was still Goldingen, as it had been for his father William before him. His uncle Friedrich's capital had been Mitau, mostly because he had started as the Duke of Semigallia only, and hadn't seen reason to relocate once William's exile put him in charge of Courland as well. Friedrich's widow had relocated to Dobele since her husband's death, a little West of Mitau on the way to Goldingen.
But Jakob was spending more and more time at Libau. While all Courland's industries had a way of helping each other along, there was more excitement or novelty to seeing what new ideas emerged for these industries with the new Academy drawing in so many bright minds, even if many were only passing through. Glassworks that tried to keep up with the needs of ships' optics or land-based telescopes were more interesting glassworks than those turning out flat panes of glass for buildings, however well they made them.
Other endeavours not rooted in local geography also shifted toward Libau now. One was cartography. And for the second day in a row, Jakob had come to the academy to discuss matters of cartography and exploration with one of his favourite collaborators - Tevel ben Elisha.
Ben Elisha was sitting by a window, sipping a warm cider. He rose upon seeing his duke.
"My lord. Welcome again to your academy. You are spoiling us to stay so long."
"Tevel, it is simply that you are such fine company. I remember meeting you on the day you arrived in Semigallia. Even with weeks of road dust and misery, you were still a man of note." Jakob sat. A second warm cider was on the table within seconds. "You said you might have a request of me today, after you spoke with your new bride."
"Indeed."
Tevel had recently wed a woman from Polangen, from a Jewish merchant family of growing influence. Moving to Libau seemed an easy thing when it was closer to her family, and the place in Courland where cartography most mattered. "My lord, you nicknamed me your Mapmaker of Mitau, though I was never truly a mapmaker, and I did not live long in Mitau before your great changes in this country started drawing me further and further West. I seem to be your Letter-writer of Libau these days, corresponding with your agents and others to acquire new geographical knowledge and have it brought to Courland."
"As you know, patience is not a virtue I have in abundance, Tevel. Speak your mind."
"My lord, I..." he raised his mug for a sip, indexing and ordering his thoughts as quickly as possible. "Being in your service has brought so much to my life, so quickly. In Mitau, Goldingen, and now here. I wish again to serve you in a new place."
Jakob did not interrupt, even to prompt Tevel to continue.
"You have spoken of places for your duchess' third garden, and plantations, and trade with Gambia and Guinea. When you send ships to the Gambia and to to Captain Sellin's islands 'all in a straight line south by southwest,' I wish to travel there. I will serve as your diplomat, your coordinator of cartography, your trade agent, your head gardener or even your governor if you wished. But I would wish to serve there."
A moment's pause betrayed Jakob's surprise. "Why?"
"I have been corresponding more and more with Lisbon and Barcelona, my lord - there is no longer a hub of mapmaking in Mallorca as there was in my ancestors' time. How much do you know of conversos?"
"Some. Little."
"Portugal and Castile and the rest of Iberia either forced Jews and Muslims out or forced them to convert. Or simply killed them. Conversos are those who converted, or those who made it appear they'd converted until they got somewhere safer - like my ancestor there. At one point, Portugal had an excess of Jewish orphans, apparently mostly girls. The fate of their parents seems easily guessable and unfortunate. In the late 15th century, Portugal sailed these orphans to Africa in much the same way they are beginning to ship slaves from Africa today. They were forced to convert, and were brought to at least one or two of these islands."
"And you wish to go, to... to find their great-grandchildren's great-grandchildren?"
"Yes. There may be no Jewishness left to find in their descendants. But maybe, just as I have a heritage of maps going back to Iberia of the same epoch, maybe some child there hears a Portuguese pidgin version of a story one of those orphans might have heard in Iberia."
"And if you were to find such a story being told there?"
"Then I might hope to invite the teller of the story to come with me to make a garden for a duchess, and invite the child hearing the story to play in that garden."
"Presumably, not as slaves."
"No. The children of mixed European and local descent are already facilitators of trade for the Portuguese and their neighbours. A natural caste of merchants and middlemen. They would have immense value to you as you pursue your own trade in the area. In a way, to gather sufficient people of such a heritage and role to your cause would accelerate your Guinean trade by a generation."
"Rather literally."
"My lord, this little sliver of land between the Baltic and the Düna" - he tapped a map of Courland and Semigallia - "is becoming a force in part for the diversity of people you welcome here, and for how you have chosen to enable rather than restrict what they can do. If you mean to create similar growth in a little sliver of land between the Gambia and the Atlantic," he tapped another map, then placed a third one on top of it, "or between the Rio dos Camarões and the Rio do Volta... or is that da? - forgive my weak Portuguese. I am only learning - I think you will need similar freedom for those who most deliver or design that growth. Were I to serve you there, I would seek to reproduce what has worked so well here with a diversity and enterprise tuned to what I find there."
"Your Portuguese is better than mine. It is not a language I've yet tried to learn. I know only that the 'a' with a tilde before an 'o' sounds like the French 'an' before a half-swallowed 'o' sound. I honestly don't know what sound you have to swallow when the tilde is over the 'o' though."
"Your ambassador to Lisbon described so many of those sounds as tipsy noises half-passed through the nose. I haven't met the man, though, I've only read his letters."
"Indeed. I wonder sometimes whether all your correspondence shows as much talent for espionage as for gathering maps, Tevel."
"In which case you'll quite like the man I'm recommending as my successor."
"I'll accept him on your recommendation before I even hear his name. Thank you. If I can send you to the straight-line islands and keep you in my service, I shall be glad to do it. I accept your proposal, Tevel ben Elisha. You will still have to keep the craft of Couronian map-gathering alive on your island, though. You're forever the Mapmaker of Mitau."
"I'll be the Fool of Fernão do Po, with his fool wife at his side."
"I'm afraid that neither rolls of the tongue nor does you enough credit. If Portugal is kind enough to let us set up a colony on an island they've abandoned, we can be kind enough to not call the place Fernando Po like all those Spanish maps do. But when you make me a map in German, you can write it in a way we can pronounce."
It was the Duke's turn to tap his finger on the map.
"I name you Fürst of Fernau - spell that with a 'u' if you please. Go find your conversos great-grandchildren's great-grandchildren, make a garden with them, and teach them to either make maps in that garden, or else go find things to draw on those maps."