1633

by Eric Flint

  Instead, Christian surprised him. “I am well acquainted with Grantville. I too have received information on what the future holds. My efforts were more toward what would benefit Denmark in the future. It seems that France, too, has obtained knowledge of the future and is taking steps to strengthen herself, I fear, at the expense of the rest of Europe.” He fixed Sir Thomas with a stare. “You do realize that where you’re proposing to go is now all part of New France? Even as an ally of France, I doubt the Cardinal would approve of my officially sending an expedition there.”

  Sir Thomas smiled. “It’s been claimed by many parties. Even Denmark has some history in this area in the past. So far, no one has bothered to do anything about this area. France’s record so far has been abysmal in protecting her interests. She couldn’t even stop two freebooters from capturing New France for England. She had to depend on English charity to get it back. If we successfully plant a settlement there, we would control the area. We’re not asking for Danish military support, simply funds to do the job ourselves and a port to ship our goods to when we are ready to start trading.”

  Christian looked unconvinced. “How do you plan on coaxing people to such a desolate region? As you’ve said yourself, Richelieu can’t even settle the lands south of there.”

  Reuben stepped forward, an animated smile on his face. Sir Thomas froze, praying Reuben wouldn’t sink all their hopes. Reuben bowed, “If I may Your Majesty?” He pulled out a broadside from the case he’d brought and passed it to the King. It was a copy of a recruiting broadside Captain Foxe had found to bring settlers to Canada. “We intend to repeat what worked extremely well in the future. These regions would be known for the gold they held and we intend to spread that message far and wide. In the future, gold rushes brought thousands to hunt for gold. In the end, they settled down to work the land when the gold ran out. We will take anyone interested and charge them for the privilege of passage. As long as they have food and tools, they can work the land. We know where the minerals are and will control the wealth by controlling the valuable land.” He bowed again and sat down. Sir Thomas let out a silent sigh. Reuben had been listening to some of what he’d said. He’d just added a little embellishment.

  The King looked toward the two princes. “You see, I was right. They do have a plan!”

  Turning back to Sir Thomas, his demeanor became grave. “Our plans seem to be compatible. I am interested in supporting your endeavor, but not as the Crown. As a current ally of France, I cannot afford to offend the Cardinal too much. Neither can I tolerate a France that grows too powerful. The alliance is already strained. If you can live with that, then we can proceed further.”

  Sir Thomas looked from Saul to Reuben. They both nodded agreement. “We can accept that Your Majesty. But if France should intervene militarily, what would Denmark’s reaction be?” Christian just smiled and admired the warm glow from the fireplace.

  “I understand. As someone said, we would have look out for ourselves” Sir Thomas returned a standard diplomatic response.

  King Christian stirred and added, “Noninvolvement also extends to anything Charles should do, too. I cannot protect you if he recalls you and formally asks for your return. However, if I can’t find you, I can’t return you. Do you understand?”

  Sir Thomas understood, since it was a game he’d been playing most of his adult life. “I’ve always enjoyed new sights. I’m sure this enterprise would have some to offer.”

  “Very good. What I propose is that, in exchange for investing twenty thousand florins, all trade comes back through Denmark and pays the usual customs and We receive an annual income of five thousand florins. Your company will administer the new territories, to include collecting taxes in the Shetlands and Orkneys. You will receive a third of those funds for your expenses. The rest shall come back to pay back the dowry funds.”

  Again, Sir Thomas looked to his partners, who both nodded. “Agreed! Who shall we send the proposed charter to for review?”

  “My Chancellor will be our coordinator, to reduce the visibility. You need to expedite your preparations. It appears that the war may be heating up in the spring. My French allies are pressing for further attacks on the Swede. I haven’t committed yet, but somehow word has leaked. My next meeting is to address the problem of the refugees that are already in the city.”

  Sir Thomas saw the scowl on Scheel’s face and just managed to hold back a laugh. He could hear behind his back that someone was already stepping forward. He didn’t even need to turn to know that it was Reuben, taking advantage of the opening.

  “Your Majesty, if I might make a suggestion?” Christian made a hurry up motion to proceed. “I know that the refugees are costing the crown to keep them quiet and peaceful. Why not let one problem solve another. I’m sure the Company could transport the refugees to the New World for less than what they will cost to maintain here. We would get extra settlers, and you clear out the riff raff.”

  Christian rose to leave. “I’ll consider it. Send me a proposal with the charter. I’ll have Christen work out the details for both.” The door opened and a servant entered, a worried look on his face.

  “Your Majesty, word just arrived from Bramstedt that Lady Kruse has given birth. You have another daughter, Elisabeth Sophia.”

  After twenty three previous children, the King merely shrugged. “Now, I must be off!” He reached for his forehead, in evident pain. A nearby servant quickly handed him a drink that he knocked back in a long draught. He paused a moment to savor the taste and then set the tankard down. After a prodigious belch, his demeanor improved. He stood up, and motioned for both princes to accompany him. Everyone then rose and bowed, until the door shut behind the King and his entourage. Sir Thomas then looked at Reuben and slowly shook his head in amazement.

  * * *

  A bright, warm sun and a cool breeze made Copenhagen the best place in the world as far as Sergeant Karl Andersen was concerned. He strolled with the three young members of his city watch patrol through the open air market. They paused occasionally to gossip with the shopkeepers. There was an undercurrent of tension in the market, but all the patrol got for their questions were dry throats. Karl anticipated stopping for a large stein of beer with his men when their shift ended in an hour. Otherwise, the day had been relatively peaceful, with only the one pickpocket breaking the calm. The thief had literally fallen into their arms as he rounded a corner to escape from his victim. Karl's years on the city watch and in the army had taught him to enjoy days like today, since they usually meant the other shoe would drop soon.

  He was jolted out of his daydream of beer by an unusual noise. A faint commotion could be heard from ahead of them. "Come on, men," he said and headed toward the noise.

  When they reached the next corner, there was a definite commotion off to their right. “Sounds like a fight!” The most junior member, Jens, nearly squeaked in his excitement. Everything recently had been blissfully quiet and Jens was anxious for action. Muffled cries sounded, coming from the section of the city where the recent influx of refugees had congregated. Trouble had been brewing there for some time.

  As they got nearer, Karl spread his arms and brought them to a halt. “Seems like our afternoon’s peace is over, boys. Check your gear; it sounds like the refugees have started to riot.” He shook his head in disgust. “Third time this month. They’re getting hungry and the council does nothing, as usual.” Karl glanced back to check his men. Gunnar and Jakob were ready, but Jens' scabbard threatened to trip him again. “I thought I told you to get a new strap for that scabbard! Serves you right if it trips you and you get stuck.”

  The sounds of a major riot were now plainly audible from the square ahead. “Jens, be prepared to go for help if I tell you.” Karl didn’t need a green recruit in a riot. He’d be just as likely to stick one of the patrol with his sword as a rioter. “Now, draw swords and cudgels and follow me. Wait for my signal before you do anything drastic!”

  They charged around t
he corner, buff coats flapping and boot nails sparking on the cobblestones, only to halt, completely dumbfounded. A crowd of men, women, and children were laughing, cheering and dancing in the street. A number of people waved copies of a broadside. Extra copies were posted on the wall of the nearby church.

  Karl grabbed a youngster who had a broadside in his hand. “What’s going on here? We thought there was a riot!”

  The boy grinned and held up the sheet. “Says here they’re giving free land to all able-bodied men; two hundred rods square!” Father says now we won’t have to beg the city council for a meal.” He twisted free and raced off into the mob.

  Karl shook his head in amazement. “Put ‘em away, boys. It looks like we aren’t needed here now. I just wonder what will happen when these fools wake up and find out this was a lie. There’ll be hell to pay then!”

  The watchmen sheathed their swords and cudgels. Karl watched the crowd for a few minutes and then announced, “Let’s call it a day! I don’t know about the rest of you, but a beer sounds good right now.” The run had worked up a powerful thirst for all of them and their watch was over. As they started out, Karl bent over and picked up a broadside that someone had dropped and jammed it in his tunic.

  * * *

  The door slammed shut and nearly shook the painting off the wall. The logs in the fireplace settled, giving off a shower of sparks. Sir Thomas stalked into the room, looking like he was ready to spit nails. “What the hell were you thinking, Reuben? We agreed to post broadsides announcing the new company, not tell all of Copenhagen that we’re giving away free land. The King hasn’t signed the charter yet! What's he going to say if he sees a broadside?” He paused to catch his breath, and then turned to the other of the pair. “Or was this your idea, Saul?”

  The Abrabanel brothers started to laugh.

  This only set Sir Thomas off again. “Your uncles may have put up funds for the expedition to Hudson’s Bay, but my friends and I have our fortunes tied up in it, too!” Normally a very mild-mannered English diplomat, Sir Thomas Roe appeared ready to strangle the younger men.

  Saul attempted to calm Sir Thomas down. “Yes, Reuben was the one who had the broadsides printed and distributed. According to the discussions you and Captain Foxe had with us, recruiting colonists is the biggest task facing us if the expedition is going to sail on time.” He poured a glass of wine, handed it to Sir Thomas and then continued. “We’ve already had fifteen families stop by the office to sign up. Another week or two and we should have all the soldiers, fishermen, and farmers we need. Then all we’ll need are the miners and craftsmen you said you would locate.”

  Sir Thomas stared at the glass and then downed it in one long swallow. “Just how do you plan to pay for their passage? You’re giving away thousands of acres.”

  Reuben said, “Remember, the king said he wants the refugees and all the riffraff cleared out? If he keeps his promise that the crown will pay for every refugee family and prisoner we send, we should cover all the charter costs for the first fleet." With a cocky grin he continued, "We’ve made sure that everyone we’ve signed up is listed as a refugee. I’ve also made arrangements with the city jailer to have all prisoners with craft or military experience turned over to us. We may not have to cover any passage expenses ourselves. The king will cover it all!

  “Besides, what are a few thousand acres, compared to the millions that the Company will still own.”

  His calm manner stopped Sir Thomas as he was working up to another outburst. Slowly, the impact of what the brothers had done dawned on him. “Well, I’ll be damned. You boys may actually put one over on Christian with that charter. Now, I just have to get him to decide to sign it!" With a firm goal to accomplish, Sir Thomas visibly relaxed. "And you’re right, only settlers will make our lands valuable. It looks like I’ll have to get the miners and craftsmen moved here as soon as Christian signs the company's charter.” His demeanor brightened visibly as another thought struck him. “Captain Foxe will need to get his ships ready to sail sooner than I thought, too. I’ll notify him that he needs to proceed with his part of the enterprise immediately.”

  Chapter 5

  Captain Luke Foxe reread the note from Sir Thomas. He chuckled when he read the part about Reuben’s ploy to recruit colonists. In the flickering lamp light, his features still showed a hint of the experiences from his last discovery voyage to Hudson’s Bay and the recent voyage to Greenland. The privations he suffered as he waited for the audience with King Charles that never came, and the poor food the Spaniards had for their sailors on the voyage to Greenland, had aged him. The last month, though, had done wonders for his health. The small inn, where he was currently lodged, had some of the best food he’d eaten since he first went to sea. He’d finally been able to follow the Grantville doctor’s advice on changing his eating habits. His stomach no longer bothered him. The only problem was that his trousers were starting to get a little snug . A month back at sea and that problem should take care of itself. He waved the letter at his young clerk.

  “Svend, I want you to prepare the letter to Sir Thomas that we discussed earlier, on the four captains I met with today. They are all interested in charters for the expedition and their ships meet our needs. I’ll meet at his convenience tomorrow to go over the details.”

  “I’ll get to it immediately, Captain.” At fifteen years of age, Svend McDermott had all the eagerness of youth for a great adventure. Ever since Captain Foxe had first sought lodging at his mother’s inn, Svend had been like a young puppy trying to please its master. Captain Foxe’s tales of exploration had fired Svend’s longing for adventure. Luke had finally surrendered to the inevitable. As his share of the work to prepare the expedition to Hudson’s Bay increased, Luke hired Svend as a messenger. Surprisingly, Svend had turned out to be well-educated, with a clear hand for writing. He now served as Luke’s temporary clerk.

  “As soon as you have a clear copy ready, I’ll sign it and you can take it to Sir Thomas’ house. Wait for his answer, if he’s there. I’ll ask Mette to keep a meal warm for you.”

  * * *

  With the signed letter in a leather pouch, Svend set off for Sir Thomas’ house. Supper tonight was to be chicken with dumplings. Svend could almost taste his mother’s cooking as he raced out the door and rounded the corner. With his mind on dumplings, he barreled right into one of the four watchmen heading toward the inn. Svend knocked the youngest man over in a tangle of limbs and scabbard.

  The older watchman, who was evidently the leader, grabbed Svend by his collar and lifted him clear. He roared at the man on the ground, “I told you Jens, get that strap fixed! If this had been a real brawl, you’d be dead.” Then he growled at Svend, “And where are you off to in such a hurry, lad? Or are you running from someone?” He set Svend down but still held onto his collar. If Svend was a thief, he was too agile for the older man to run down.

  Svend opened the flap of his pouch to show the letter. “I’m carrying a letter from Captain Foxe to Sir Thomas Roe. I apologize for my inattentiveness, Sergeant.”

  Karl finally got a good look at his captive's face and grinned. “You’re from the inn, aren’t you?” Svend just nodded vigorously. “I thought you looked familiar. Be on your way, but watch where you’re going!” He let go of the collar, then gave Svend a smack on the backside that propelled him off. He opened the door to the inn and motioned his men in. “Let’s get that beer before anything else interrupts us.”

  * * *

  As befitted the status of the ambassador from the English court to Denmark, Sir Thomas' house was in the Hovermarken neighborhood and was solidly built of gray, faced stone. Before he climbed the steps to the door, Svend paused to straighten his tunic and run his fingers through his hair. The Captain would really dress me down if I showed up looking like a street urchin , he thought, as he reached for the bell pull. This was the first time he’d been to Sir Thomas’ house since the ambassador’s family and staff had arrived from England. The door opened and
Svend was surprised to be greeted by a petite, dark-haired young lady.

  “May I help you?”

  Tongue-tied, Svend finally managed to blurt out, “I have a letter for Sir Foxe from Captain Thomas, I mean Sir Thomas from Captain Foxe.”

  She smiled at his mix-up, but then opened the door wide and invited him in. “My uncle is in the study. Please have a seat and I’ll get him.”

  As she walked down the hall, Svend noticed that the dress she was wearing was a recut hand-me-down from a larger woman’s wardrobe. He also noted that it still set off her slim figure.

  A few minutes later, Sir Thomas appeared. “Agnes said you’ve a message from Captain Foxe?”

  “Yes, sir.” As he handed over the letter, Svend continued, “Captain Foxe asked me to wait for your answer, if it was convenient.”

  Reading the note, Sir Thomas started back down the hall. He motioned for Svend to follow. As they entered the study, Sir Thomas pointed to a set of hardback chairs along the wall. “Have a seat. I do have an answer and I won’t be a moment composing it.” He opened the desk drawer, took out a sheet of writing paper and a quill and quickly penned a reply. He then blotted the sheet to dry the ink. He passed the note across to Svend. “Take this back to the Captain. If he should ask, you may tell him that I’m very pleased with his choices.”

  Svend placed the note in the pouch and headed for the door. The young lady watched his departure from behind a partially shut door at the end of the hall.