He'd reached the door to the reception hall. Quickly, two servants opened it for him.
He stepped through. Wilhelm Wettin was waiting there.
A weak and slender reed, Wettin. A decent man, yes. Too decent, perhaps, for what had to be done. But between Oxenstierna's pressure from above and the pressure brought by his many followers from below, he'd finally acquiesced.
Again, God's hand at work. Had Gustav Adolf still been in full command of his senses, the chancellor would not have been able to bring the prime minister to this point. He was quite sure of it.
Wettin was looking pale; his face drawn; close to haggard, even.
Oxenstierna took him by the shoulder and swung him to face the crowd that was packed into the great reception hall.
"Have faith, Wilhelm," he said.
The crowd roared. Oxenstierna released his grip from the prime minister's shoulder and took two steps forward. Then, raised his hands high.
"It is time to end the anarchy! Are you with us?"
The roar was deafening.