Eberhard interrupted him. "I leave the duchy with all its parts and dependencies, rights and responsibilities to its people. My people. I leave to the people of the duchy, now its citizens rather than its subjects, the right to govern themselves and not be disposed of, willy-nilly, by emperors or prime ministers or diplomatic congresses. With a lot of legal language to ensure that I've done everything I can to make it happen. And copies not just to the official representatives of Gustavus Adolphus, but also . . ."
Tata handed one of the signed copies to Derek Utt and another to Widerhold. "All hail Johannes Althusius and the sovereignty of the people."
In the silence of the room, Utt laughed.
Tata joined in the laughter.
At last, so did Eberhard. "The king of Sweden can make what he wants of it. I wish him joy. I wish the prime minister of the United States of Europe joy. I wish my greedy uncles joy. I wish Margrave Georg Friedrich of Baden, supposed imperial administrator of a united Province of Swabia joy, and advise him to worry about Augsburg and the Bavarians, Tyrol and the Breisgau, with particular attention to Egon von Fürstenberg, instead of Württemberg." His voice weakened, grating. "Hell, Tata, I even wish your father joy. Hail to Reichard Donner, to the Horn of Plenty, and the hapless, hopeless, helpless Mainz Committee of Correspondence. Ave atque vale."
The others went back to the things they had to do. Agathe stayed.
"Lift me, Tata. I'm sliding down."
She put her hands under his armpits again and pushed up.
"There's no window in here."
"I can open the tent flap."
"Do. Go stand in the sunshine."
She stood there a few minutes, looking out at the movement and listening to the noise of an army in camp.
"Joy, Tata. I wish you joy."
She waited a few minutes more before she called the chaplain.