The Devil's Opera(119)

When the first one appeared on the gangplank from the deck of the boat, the Marines present got tense and fingered their own weapons. Captain Beaton moved to the front of the guards and stood with his hands behind his back. At least some of the bodyguards must have known him, as they stopped short of the Marines and waited.

Gustav appeared after the second boat docked. He wasn’t the first man on that gangplank, either. That was another bodyguard.

Baldur grunted.

“What?” Ulrik said.

“That’s got to be Ljungberg.”

That was a reference to Erling Ljungberg, Gustav’s new chief bodyguard, a man neither of them had met yet.

“How can you tell?”

“First man I’ve seen I’m not sure I could beat.”

Ljungberg was a very large man, and even from a distance appeared as hard as seasoned oak. Ulrik didn’t even want to contemplate a physical contest with the man.

The emperor finally appeared, striding across the gangplank in something approaching his normal manner. That was slightly belied by the fact that he was closely followed by Dr. James Nichols, and because Ljungberg waited at the end of the gangplank, one hand on his pistol and one not exactly outstretched, but definitely poised to make a grab.

The only concession that Gustav seemed to be making to his recent infirmities was that he moved with a bit of care on the flexing gangplank. But he stood tall and straight, and once off the wood moved in something like his normal manner. Not that he had much chance to walk around.

“Papa!”

Unable to restrain herself, Kristina burst from Caroline’s grasp and hurled herself toward her father. Gustav’s face sprouted a grin, and he opened his arms wide. She cannoned into him, wrapping her arms around his waist—or at least, around as much of it as she could reach. The emperor had lost some of his weight during his recent indisposition; but not much. His problem hadn’t stopped him from eating, so he was still a very large man, and Kristina was still only nine.

He folded his arms around his daughter, and looked down into her upturned face. They stood thus for a long moment, drinking each other in. The silence was broken by Kristina.

“You look tired, Papa.”

Gustav laughed. “I am, I’m afraid. But I’ll get better now that I’m here in Magdeburg with you.”

“You’d better,” Kristina said with a determined jerk of her head.

Gustav laughed again, and released her from his hold. She in turn released him, but reached up and took his hand. Ignoring the other notables for the moment, he crossed to where Caroline and Ulrik stood.

The imperial hand was first offered to Caroline. “Thank you,” was all Gustav said.

Then he turned to Ulrik and offered the same hand to him. Ulrik took advantage of the moment of the handclasp to study Gustav’s face. There were lines there that he didn’t remember from the last time they had met. And his eyes…they were different, somehow…not pain-filled, exactly, but they definitely showed that the emperor had not had an easy time of it.

Ulrik realized that neither of them had said anything; that Gustav had been studying him just as much as he had been studying the emperor. Now Gustav gave a firm nod, and clapped him on the shoulder. “We have much to talk about, I think, you and I.”

“I agree,” Ulrik replied, sticking his hand behind his back and wiggling the fingers where Gustav’s grip had almost crushed them.

“At the palace, then,” Gustav clapped him on the shoulder again, then turned toward Senator Abrabanel, Mayor Gericke, and those who waited with them.

There were two small hiccups before they could get the procession to the palace under way. The first was a matter of protocol—of sorts. The third barge had landed the remainder of the emperor’s bodyguard company, so they now outnumbered the Marines that were present. Seriously outnumbered.

Despite that, on one side Captain Beaton was arguing quite forcefully that since they were in Magdeburg, it was his Marines’ responsibility to guard the person of the emperor. On the other side Major Graham and Captains Stewart and Gordon of the bodyguard company were not having any such thing. And since they were all Scots, the language had moved from reasoned to impassioned in very short order; had sailed past vulgar a few moments later; and was now approaching a state of sulfurousness. Ulrik stepped closer to Kristina, aware that Baldur was now at his left and Caroline at his right.

“Enough,” Gustav intervened. He looked down the street where most of the populace of Greater Magdeburg seemed to be standing cheek by jowl. “We are not going to move quickly through that. Army take the left, Marines take the right.” And with that particular Gordian knot cut, the emperor turned to the horses that had been brought for the officers.