The Saxon Uprising(113)

A tavern in Melsungen, in the province of Hesse-Kassel

“Here’s to the health of our landgravine!” shouted one of the revelers, holding up his stein of beer. “Long may she reign!”

The tavern was full, as it often was on a winter’s eve. Not a single stein failed to come up to join the toast.

It now seemed almost certain that Hesse-Kassel would weather the storm without damage. Thanks to the landgrave’s blessed widow.

Another reveler stood up, hoisting his stein. “And here’s to the empress! Long may she reign!”

“She’s getting an early enough start!” shouted another.

Amidst the laughter, not a single stein failed to come up to join that toast either.

A tavern on the coast of the Pomeranian Bay

“I’m glad now I voted for the Prince,” said one of the fishermen at the table.

His two companions gazed at him suspiciously. “You said you’d voted for Wettin,” said one.

The fisherman shrugged. “I lied. Didn’t want to get into trouble, seeing as how the rest of you were so dumb.”

After a moment, the third fisherman said, “Yah, I voted for him too.”

The skeptic rolled his eyes. “Give it a month and it’ll have been pure magic, the way Wettin got elected. Seeing as how apparently nobody voted for him at all.”

Tetschen, near the border between Saxony and Bohemia

“Message just came in from the general,” said the Hangman’s radio operator. He set a slip of paper in front of Jeff Higgins.

With a sense of relief, the regiment’s commander put down the newspaper he’d been laboriously working his way through. There was no German-language newspaper in Tetschen so he’d been trying to make sense out of the analysis in the Noviny.

With no great success. Jeff’s grasp of Czech was rudimentary and mostly limited to everyday phrases you’d use about town. Order a beer, buy a loaf of bread, that sort of thing—not interpret commentary about political developments in a neighboring country.

It was probably a moot point anyway. He already knew what the radio message from Magdeburg said, since it had been picked up by the regiment’s own radio as soon as it was transmitted. In fact, the Noviny had gotten it from them in the first place. Jeff had just been hoping he might pick up some further scraps.

When he looked at the message which had just arrived, that became a moot point also. To hell with scraps. The meal had arrived.

The message was one word.

Now.

“Showtime,” said Jeff, heaving himself to his feet. “Adjutant! We’re moving out!”





Chapter 35


Berlin

“What is it?” asked Colonel Hand, as soon as he entered the king’s chamber. Gustav Adolf was lying on his bed, asleep.

Erling Ljungberg shook his head. “It didn’t last long, and then he fell asleep again. But for a while there…”

The big bodyguard took a deep, sighing breath. “He’s coming back, Erik. I finally believe that he is.”

“What did he say?”

“First, he looked at me, as if he were puzzled. And then he said, ‘Where is Anders’? When I explained that Jönsson was dead, he seemed uncertain as to what I meant for a few seconds. Then—it was just as if a light went on in his eyes, Erik, I swear it was—his face got very sad. He said ‘It was my fault, wasn’t it? Was I too reckless again?’ ”

The colonel looked down at his sleeping cousin. Then he also took a deep, sighing breath.

“And what did you say?”

Ljungberg shrugged. “I told him the truth. ‘Yes, Your Majesty, you were too reckless. But that’s just part of the job. All of us know it. Anders better than anyone.’ Then he looked still more sad. He asked me what happened. He said he didn’t remember anything after the rain started. So I told him. Then he started to cry. That’s when I sent for you. But he fell asleep after a couple of minutes.”

“Dear God in Heaven,” murmured Hand. Some parsons might call that blasphemy, but he didn’t think so himself. Blasphemy was the sin of taking the Lord’s name in vain. Up until this moment, the colonel might be fairly accused of that.

But no longer. It had apparently not been in vain at all.

“What should we do?” asked Ljundberg.

“Nothing, for the moment. We need more than flashes of coherence from him. We need him back. Oxenstierna is in a rage. I think he’s going to mobilize the army and march on Magdeburg himself.”

Ljungberg’s eyebrows went up. “What happened?”

“You didn’t hear?” The colonel nodded toward the king. “His blessed offspring. She and that very smart Danish prince of hers showed up in Magdeburg. Giving speeches and reviewing parades, the whole lot.”