Gustav Adolf was a bit dubious of the logic, but since Erik weighed in on Wilhelm’s side, he decided to accept their advice. He was still shaken by the results of his temper tantrum and not as inclined as he normally would be to trust his own instincts.
Having ruled out summary executions, however, he drew the line at summary punishments short of removing heads. No way would he accept timid restrictions!
He started by stripping von Ramsla and anyone else whom Oxenstierna had given any sort of official position of all of his noble titles. Then, of all his lands, if he possessed any.
As a strictly legal proposition, his right to do any such thing was eminently disputable—and there was no shortage of lawyers in the USE ready and willing to argue the case. The problem was that Gustav Adolf did not extend the punishment to the heirs of the punishee—but made it very clear that he would do so the moment any of them tried to challenge him.
That made the whole thing a very risky proposition. A man could bow his head, accept the penalties, and slink back home—where, at least for most of them, their families would maintain them in more-or-less the same comfort they’d been accustomed to. Or, he could challenge the emperor in court. If he lost, though, he risked being out in the cold with his entire family.
Most of them accepted the punishments. Only three indicated an intention to file a legal challenge. In all three cases, because their families detested them and would be pitching them into the cold anyway.
That done, the emperor ordered any of Oxenstierna’s minions who might conceivably—remotely, at the far edges, barely, tangentially, it didn’t matter—have been involved in the plot with the Bavarians to be kept under arrest until such time as Erik Haakansson Hand got around to interrogating them and deciding they were innocent.
At which point, of course, any other penalties would kick in.
That done, the emperor levied heavy fines on anyone who had participated in what he chose to call the “outlaw convention.” If the person in question had been a member of Parliament, the fine was doubled and the emperor unilaterally decreed that their election was null and void because they had violated their oath of office by participating in said outlaw convention.
This ruling was very questionable, there being no provision in the constitution that gave the emperor any such power. And, in the end, Gustav Adolf would rescind it two weeks later. The electoral disqualification, that is, not the fines. He did so not because he feared the courts but because Mike Stearns insisted on it and the emperor decided it was not an issue he was prepared to fight over tooth and nail.
That done…
He decided to rest from his labors. He’d already stripped large pieces of hide from just about everyone who’d been arrested, after all. In fact, the only exceptions were two servants who’d been rounded up by mistake.
And by then, the barge was ready to take him to Magdeburg. The very luxurious barge, with the world’s best doctor on it and ready to tend to his needs. James Nichols had come up from Magdeburg at the emperor’s request.
Dresden, capital of Saxony
Eddie finally arrived in Dresden just about the same time Gustav Adolf stepped aboard the barge that would take him to Magdeburg. By the time he got there, Denise and Minnie had two more accomplishments to their names. First, they’d produced one of the best-manicured airfields in Europe, certainly in wintertime. Secondly, they’d learned how to use a plow.
“A skill,” Minnie pointed out, “that for girls like us is probably as useful as knowing how to grow those little miniature trees—what do they call them? Something Japanese.”
“Banzai trees.”
Minnie frowned. “Are you sure?”
“Oh, yeah. Japanese people get fanatical about stuff.”
They’d had plenty of advance warning, so all three of the women working for Nasi who’d gotten stranded in Dresden were waiting in the little hangar at the airfield with their luggage packed. Noelle had paid off the rent owing on the townhouse already so they were ready to go.
The bolder of the two young hostlers waited with them. He’d continued to help them all the way through, because Minnie had relented and decided he was okay after all, on the cute side, and unlike Denise she had no boyfriend. (Steady boyfriend, anyway. Whenever she was in the mood, Minnie never lacked for male company. One-eyed or not.)
The hostler was sorry to see Minnie go. For that matter, Minnie would miss him herself. It had been a very pleasant few days.
On the other hand, once they left Dresden she’d get over the loss in about fifteen minutes and he’d get over it in twenty. Theirs had been a friendly relationship, but one driven far more by hormones than by hearts.