by Eric Flint
John Casimir leaned back from his sister’s spluttering outrage.
“Yes, I know it’s her. What other young woman in the Hochadel would kill a rampaging boar to keep it from gutting her lover? And with a spear, just like Eva would!” He grinned. “There’s bound to be some truth to that story, although I really doubt they were copulating when the pig came out of the brush. And it was probably a sow.”
“It’s not funny, Cas!” Sibylle Christine even went so far as to smack her older brother’s head with the chapbook.
“Stop it, Sibbi. I knew about it anyway.” He nodded toward the upper floor of the small palace, where his chambers were located. “I got a letter from Eva last week, letting me know about her betrothal. Of course, the letter didn’t have any of the coarse details in that stupid chapbook.”
Sibylle Christine’s jaw sagged. “You already knew? Then why haven’t you done something—?”
“Done what?” demanded the prince. “The only thing I can threaten her with is to withhold a dowry.”
“Then do it! That’ll bring her to heel!”
“Oh, don’t be stupid. Just because Eva’s quiet doesn’t mean she’s timid. You know what she’s like when she gets stubborn about something. Besides, it would be a terrible idea anyway.”
His sister’s jaw sagged still further. “What are you talking about? Just because that silly child has let idiot American fantasies into her head is no reason for us to do so! Marriage is a serious business!”
John Casimir’s indulgence was gone by now. “So it is, Countess. And perhaps you should start thinking seriously yourself. In case you haven’t noticed, the emperor is back on his throne—quite functional, I assure you, even if he does have the occasional seizure—and he is none too pleased at the moment with Germany’s aristocracy, especially the Hochadel, since most of them flocked to Oxenstierna and that blasted fool Wettin.”
He glared down at her. “Or did you miss all those trivial events? The defeat of Banér by Stearns outside of Dresden. The killing of Oxenstierna—which they’re now calling an execution, you might take note. Wettin’s disgrace, although he’s still in office. But he won’t be when the new election is held. Either Piazza or Strigel will be the new prime minister. I’m hoping for Piazza myself, even if he is an up-timer.”
The prince rubbed his face. “I had the good sense to keep my distance from Wettin this past year. And since I have the additional good fortune of being married to a half-sister of the former landgrave of Hesse-Kassel who got killed fighting the Poles, people associate me with his widow Amalie Elizabeth more than any other prominent figure in the Hochadel. So I am not under any suspicion personally.
“But—!” He held up an admonishing finger and wagged it in front of his sister’s nose. “I have had to give up my campaign to get Anhalt-Dessau transferred from Magdeburg Province to Saxony.”
Sibylle Christine looked blank-faced. “You did? But we all agreed…”
“That we’d be much better off as part of Saxony once John George was overthrown? For the love of—” John Casimir managed, barely, to refrain from blasphemy. “Did you miss that too, Sibbi? Saxony’s in the clutches of Gretchen Richter, these days. Between her and those radicals in Magdeburg, I’ll stay with Magdeburg, thank you very much.”
“She’s not—Ernst is still—”
He waved her down impatiently. “Yes, yes, yes. Ernst Wettin is still officially Saxony’s administrator. He even gets along fairly well with Richter, he told me recently. But he also told me that he ‘administers’ Saxony—and Richter—the way a man administers the tide. He tells it to go out when it’s going out, and tells it to come back when it’s coming back.
“So, yes, let us be cold-blooded, practical and serious about the marital prospects for our youngest sister. That would be the scarfaced one, remember, whom we all assumed would never get married at all. So what have we lost? Under the circumstances, I am not at all disturbed by the likelihood that we will soon be associated by marriage with a well-known up-timer.”
“But he’s absolutely notorious!”
“Yes, he is. All the better. Besides—”
The prince’s good humor returned. “Little Eva! Who would have imagined she’d turn into such an adventuress? Whenever she returns with her new husband—which she will, since there will certainly be a sizeable dowry waiting for her—I can take her hunting and she can show me how she brought down that wild boar while she was stark naked.”
“It’s not funny, John Casimir!”
