The Eastern Front(81)

Lovrenc might have flushed a little. "That would be . . . ah, problematic. At the beginning of my career, I was with General Piccolomini."

"So?"

"So if Wallenstein has read any of the up-time accounts of his life—which you can be sure and certain he has—he'll know that in the universe the Americans came from Piccolomini was one of the central plotters who had him assassinated."

"Ah." Kresse shook his head. "Still, you were not directly involved. Perhaps Wallenstein is not holding a grudge against you."

"Quite possibly not. But would you gamble on it?"

Kresse laughed. "I see your point. Austria, then."

This time, Lovrenc was sure he was flushing. "Well . . . there might be other difficulties in Vienna. A youthful indiscretion . . ."

That sounded silly even to him, coming as it did from a cavalry captain who was all of twenty-six years old.

Kresse laughed again. Then, said nothing for a few seconds. He had an odd look on his face.

"How much do you need?" he asked abruptly.

"Excuse me?"

"In the way of pay. For you and your company."

Bravnicar frowned. "It's complicated. Depends on which realm—"

Kresse waved his hand impatiently. "Never mind. We have little in the way of coin anyway. Will you work for room and board? For . . . let's say three months. No, best make it four. Until the end of the year. By then, I may be able to come up with some money to continue your employment. Hard to say. But at least it'd give you a port in the storm for a few months. And I think I could use a good cavalry unit."

Bravnicar was too dumbfounded to reply. He'd never heard of rebels—farmers, at that—trying to hire professional soldiers.

Kresse's companion grinned. "It's just like in the movie."

The last term was incomprehensible. It didn't even sound like a German word.

"Like in the . . . what?"

"Movie. Motion picture. It's a device the Americans have to turn lots and lots of images into the illusion of an ongoing story. One of the CoCers we met in Magdeburg explained it to me. I got curious so Anna and I went to one of the theaters they've set up just to watch the things. Some up-timer and his German partners figured out a way to— Well. Never mind. I don't really understand it myself. Anyway, we watched a movie the up-timers had made. Not the Americans, but the Japanese. They called it The Seven Samurai. It was about this peasant village in the Japanese islands who hired mercenaries to protect them from bandits."

Bravnicar was now completely confused. "You've got Japanese cavalry too? How did they get here?"





Chapter 25


Vaxholm Island, in the Stockholm Archipelago

Charles Mademann had a disgusted look on his face when he came into the tavern. "Well, that's it," he announced. "The word is that Princess Kristina and Prince Ulrik will be returning to Denmark ten days from now."

Guillaume Locquifier, seated at the head of the large table in the center of the tavern's main room, glanced warningly at the door leading to the kitchens. Geerd Bleecker's voice could be heard talking to his wife, although the words couldn't be made out. The two of them were the only ones living here, except for customers—and the only customers at the moment were the Huguenots sitting at the table.

Mathurin Brillard looked up from the book he was reading, a French translation of Melanchthon's Augsburg Confession. Despite the rigor and ferocity of their political views and tactics, the group of Huguenots organized around Antoine Delerue and Michel Ducos were rather relaxed about their religious beliefs. They considered themselves members of the Reformed tradition but lacked the sectarian fervor of many Calvinist groups. Their principal concern was with the political situation in France, not theological doctrine. If one of their members found it interesting to study the views of Lutherans—Brillard even read Catholic and Jewish thinkers on occasion—no one would say anything, not even Ducos. Not when Mathurin was their foremost marksman and had demonstrated for years his loyalty and reliability in the struggle against Cardinal Richelieu and the oppression of France's Protestants.

"This information is solid?" he asked.

Mademann shrugged. "As solid as any such information can be. There's no doubt that the royal party is planning to leave at that time. I was told this by servants, porters and stevedores alike, and they all agreed on the date of departure. But who's to say a princess won't change her mind at the last minute?"

"Not likely," grunted Robert Ouvrard. After the many weeks they'd spent watching Princess Kristina, they knew full well how much the heir to the throne disliked being near her mother. If there was any surprise, it was that she had stayed in Stockholm for this long. That was probably the result of strict orders from her father.