The Saxon Uprising(158)

That was largely thanks to Kristina. The huge, cheering crowds that had greeted Gustav Adolf when he arrived in the capital had been there as much to applaud a father as a monarch. Kristina had been riding with him in the parade, and that much was blindingly obvious.

In a much darker way, the position of the Vasas in Sweden was stronger also. As part of his bargain with Oxenstierna when he took the throne in 1611, Gustav Adolf had restored the Swedish aristocracy’s privileges that his grandfather has stripped away from them. Now, with the chancellor’s betrayal and subsequent death, the king intended to strip those privileges and powers away from them again.

Not immediately. He had many more pressing matters to attend to first. But it was now clear to him that his grandfather had been right after all. The great man who had founded their line in Sweden had understood something that Gustav Adolf himself had had to learn the hard way—a smart dynasty bases itself on the populace, not on the nobility.

There had been another change in Kristina since he’d seen her last. This one more subtle but just as unmistakable. The girl was simply more cheerful than she’d been before. More at ease in her father’s presence, less anxious, less needful of being the constant center of attention. Yet no less affectionate.

Caroline Platzer deserved much of the credit for that transformation, he knew—and silently patted himself on the back for having ignored the complaints about the American woman from the princess’ other ladies in waiting. She had become something in the way of a surrogate mother for the girl, in the way the world’s very best governesses could manage.

But there was another influence at work also, which the emperor did not miss either.

Prince Ulrik of Denmark. A young man with depths that Gustav Adolf had only half-seen before. To name just one: the dynasty’s position in the newly-formed union   of Kalmar had also grown stronger. And that was well-nigh amazing. Had anyone told Gustav Adolf what was about to happen on the eve of the Battle of Lake Bledno, he would have sworn King Christian of Denmark would take advantage of the crisis to destroy the union  .

Yet, he hadn’t. Gustav Adolf was quite sure that was mostly because of Ulrik. Not even so much because of his direct influence on his father but simply because of his existence. His nature, as it were. A drunk he might be, and given to grandiosity, but Christian IV was also exceedingly intelligent. On some level he must have realized that any actions he took against the union   of Kalmar would only damage his son’s prospects—which were far greater than his own.

Even royal fathers are sometimes capable of putting their children’s welfare first.

As Gustav Adolf would now have to do himself. He’d had another seizure on the barge, halfway through his voyage here—and this one had not been triggered off by any rage. It had come completely as a surprise to everyone, even Dr. Nichols. The lesson from the experience, which the American medician had drummed home at tedious length, was that the emperor had to accept the fact that he was now forced to operate within certain understood constraints. For how long? Quite possibly the rest of his life.

That meant he needed to develop surrogates. Men he trusted—but they also had to be men with enormous talents.

A rare combination, that. He’d thought he’d found it once before with Axel Oxenstierna. Being fair—to himself as well as his former chancellor—that productive relationship has lasted for a quarter of a century and might well have lasted for another, had Gustav Adolf not been struck down at Lake Bledno. Oxenstierna was hardly the first man to succumb to great temptation. Had the temptation never arisen, he probably would have remained faithful to his dying day.

Now, the emperor needed to find a replacement for Oxenstierna. And by great good fortune, he thought he’d found three: a son, a cousin and a brother of sorts. Perhaps the Lutheran pastors were correct and God did favor Sweden. It was tempting to think so, certainly. But temptation was ever Satan’s favored tool.

Gustav Adolf had already had one long private talk with Ulrik since his arrival in Magdeburg. Two things had come out of it; one specific, one general.

The specific result had been that he’d decided to accept Ulrik’s judgment that there had been something hidden in the murder of his wife. Some dark scheme that lay behind it, quite different from the conclusions one might draw from the superficial evidence. So, he’d put Ulrik in charge of ferreting out the truth.

Or rather, overseeing the ferret—that Norwegian of his, whose mechanical talents were but a veneer over more ancient and grimmer skills.

The general result had been the first step in a long journey they would take together. A king needed an heir, and an emperor needed one even more. A male heir, if at all possible. Women could rule, and sometimes even effectively—witness the great English queen of the past century. But in the nature of things their position was always a bit tenuous. Far better if their reign could be buttressed by a consort who could double as a king-in-all-but-name.