by Eric Flint
Achterhof was now frowning, and scratching his jaw. "I'll be the first to say they're a pack of bastards, Rebecca, but I'm not following you here. Quorum or no quorum, the Crown Loyalists are still the majority party. By our constitution, that gives them the right to form a cabinet of whichever members of their party they select, including the post of prime minister. So if they choose this von Ramsla jackass, they have the right to do so."
Now Werner slapped the table in glee. "Yes, granted, Gunther-but by the same constitution, the new head of the government is actually a recommendation made to the head of state. Legally speaking, von Ramsla can't become the prime minister until Gustav II Adolf confirms his appointment. Which he certainly hasn't done, since he's still speaking in tongues."
Rebecca and several other people at the table winced a little at von Dalberg's indecorous description of their monarch's condition. But that was a matter of taste; the depiction itself was accurate enough.
"Yes," she said. "To sum it all up, Oxenstierna has been in such a hurry to launch his counter-revolution that he has jettisoned the legitimacy of his own government's executive and legislative branches. Which leaves, as the only surviving legitimate branch, the judiciary-who, regardless of how conservative they might be, will be aghast at these reckless procedures."
"To put it mildly," said Werner, snorting with amusement. "You can be accused of committing any crime in the books, and a judge will remain calm and even-tempered. Violate established legal protocol, and that same judge will become red-faced and indignant."
Gunther Achterhof still looked skeptical. "And what does Oxenstierna care, whether a pack of judges rules with or against him? I repeat: we're in a civil war. He'll simply have them arrested along with Wettin."
By the time he finished, however, at least half the heads at the conference table were shaking. Even Gunther seemed to recognized he'd ventured onto thin ice, from the way his forceful tone diminished.
"And lose at least ninety percent of the militias who would otherwise support him," said Hamburg's mayor. "I can guarantee that the militia of my city would abandon his cause. They might even be upset enough to support us."
"The same would be true for most of the provincial governments as well," said Strigel. "Hesse-Kassel would certainly come out in opposition, and so would Brunswick."
"Westphalia's a given, of course," added Helene Gundelfinger, "with a Danish prince as its administrator and official head of state. Even if he doesn't much like his younger brother, Frederik would hardly side with the Swedes."
"It will be true down the line," said Rebecca. "Oxenstierna has blundered badly. He has handed us on a plate the one single factor that a counter-revolution normally has working in its favor-legitimacy. You are more right than you know, Gunther. Indeed, the chancellor of Sweden and his followers are now the bastards in this conflict."
"And we-ha! what a charming twist!-are now the champions of the established laws," said Ableidinger.
"Our strategy and our tactics must be guided by that understanding," said Rebecca. "As Constantin says, we are the ones defending the laws, not they. So we must be patient, not hasty; considerate of established customs and practices, not dismissive of them; and, most of all, present ourselves as the guardians of order and stability."
Achterhof was back to scowling. "If by that you're saying we have to sit on our hands-"
"I said nothing of the sort, Gunther." Rebecca managed to maintain a cordial tone of voice. The man could sometimes be a real trial. "What matters is not the content of what we do, but the form. So, here in Magdeburg, we seize all the reins of power-what few we don't already possess, at any rate. But we do so in order to defend the laws, not to overthrow them. Oxenstierna and those outlaws in Berlin are the revolutionaries, not us."
She looked at Albert Bugenhagen. "Every province and town will have to adopt its own tactics, of course, to suit the local conditions. But the same method should apply everywhere. Thus, in Hamburg, I recommend that you summon the town militia to defend the city's rights and laws against illegal aggression coming from Berlin."
Bugenhagen grinned. "They'll squirm, you watch. But…in the end, they might very well do it."
"And even if they don't," said Constantin, "you can mobilize the CoC's armed units in the city on the same grounds. You're not clashing with the militia, you're-oh, this is truly delightful-coming out to support them in their righteous task."
Rebecca nodded. "Everywhere, we must follow that course. Defense, not offense. This is no time, in other words, for the CoCs to launch another Operation Kristallnacht. Let the reactionaries start the violence. Let everyone see that they are the instigators of mayhem, just as they are the ones who shredded the nation's constitution and laws."
She now looked at Gunther Achterhof. "We are, of course, permitted to act in self-defense, should the outlaws make so bold as to attack us."
The head of Magdeburg's Committee of Correspondence looked mollified. Well, somewhat mollified. But Rebecca didn't think he would be a problem. As pig-headed as he often was, Gunther was not stupid. Once he saw how effective the tactics were, he'd begin applying them with his usual adroit skills as an organizer.
Liesel Hahn spoke up. "I think you should write to the landgravine of Hesse-Kassel immediately, Rebecca. She thinks quite well of you, despite her political differences. She's told me so herself. Twice, now."
"I will do better than that, Liesel. I will send her a radio message-and send the same message to the heads of state of every single one of the provinces, even those like Pomerania and the Upper Rhine which we can assume will remain actively hostile. The centerpiece of my message, of course, will be our new motto and principal slogan."
Her serene smile finally appeared. "Justice for Wilhelm Wettin! We demand that the prime minister be charged in a duly constituted court of law, not some outlaw travesty of a tribunal. We demand that any charges against him be made openly, so that he may exercise his right-guaranteed under the constitution-to confront his accusers. We demand that he be given a fair trial in a USE court of law, not be victimized by foreign Swedish star chamber proceedings. Last but not least, we demand that he be released until such a trial can be convened, in order to resume his duties as the still-rightful head of the USE's government."
She stopped. Everyone stared at her.
Then Ableidinger slapped the table again. Hard enough, this time, to make it jump. "Oh, how grand-to live in such splendid times! Where up is down and down is up and everything is finally in its rightful place!"
Chapter 21
Bamberg, capital of the State of Thuringia-Franconia At the last moment, worried about the Bavarian threat to the Oberpfalz, Ed Piazza had decided not to attend the conference Becky had called in Magdeburg. When word came the day before the conference of the so-called "Charter of Rights and Duties" passed by the convention of reactionaries taking place in Berlin and-this came as a complete surprise-the arrest of Wilhelm Wettin, he'd regretted that decision.
Today, he was deeply thankful he'd stayed in Bamberg. The president of the State of Thuringia-Franconia was facing the worst crisis of his political career.
The Bavarians attacked Ingolstadt the evening after the news arrived from Berlin. Possibly just a coincidence, of course. The attack was certainly not unexpected.
What was unexpected-no, profoundly shocking-was that they'd taken the highly fortified city within a few hours. By dawn, it was all over. When the Bavarians had controlled Ingolstadt, they'd withstood a siege by Baner's army for months. So how and why had the USE's defense collapsed literally overnight?
There was only one possible answer: treason. And not the usual sort of treason that often afflicted cities under siege-such as the treason which had turned over Ingolstadt from the Bavarians, in fact. In such cases, after long months of siege, a small party within the city would jury-rig a scheme to open the defenses to the enemy. Typically, the besiegers would come in through a gate opened by the traitors and, over many hours, force
in enough men to overwhelm the city's defenders.
From the few and limited accounts they'd gotten so far, though, what had happened in Ingolstadt this time looked far different to Piazza. The Bavarians had apparently penetrated the city simultaneously in several places, after guard detachments had been overwhelmed from within. That suggested a massive conspiracy and one that had been planned over a period of time.
An utterly ruthless conspiracy, to boot. That much was obvious from the one radio message Major Tom Simpson had managed to send before he vanished. It had been transmitted in Morse code, for reasons that were unclear. Perhaps reception hadn't been good enough for voice messages. More likely, Ed thought, they'd lost their best radios.
Bavarians over-running Ingolstadt. Colonel Engels murdered. City cannot be held. Withdrawing what remains of regiment into countryside.
That message had come early this morning. Since then, nothing.
His secretary Anton Roeder stuck his head in the door. "General Schmidt is here, sir."
"Send him-" But Heinrich was already coming through the door. He was not standing on ceremony today.
"How soon-"
"Now," Heinrich answered. "In fact, the first of the regiments is already marching out of the camp. I expect to have the entire division on the road by evening."
"How long-"
"No way to know, Mr. President, until we see what the road conditions are like." The young general shrugged his thick, muscular shoulders. "The roads are good, but with the snowfall two days ago… Still, it shouldn't take us more than three days to reach Nurnberg. From there, we can figure another three day march to either Ingolstadt or Regensburg, whichever you've decided is more important. That assumes the authorities in Nurnberg are co-operative. If they close the border, it will take us at least another day to march around the city."
Nurnberg was a political anomaly. For centuries it had been one of the major imperial cities in the Germanies; in most respects, a completely independent city-state. It had jealously held onto that status through the collapse of the Holy Roman Empire, the formation of the Confederated Principalities of Europe, the collapse of the CPE and its replacement by the United States of Europe. Today, it was for all practical purposes an independent miniature nation, but one that was completely surrounded by the USE. The only up-time equivalent Ed could think of was Lesotho.
The Nurnbergers were generally on good terms with their much larger neighbor (or hyper-neighbor, it might be better to say) but they could sometimes get prickly. And there was no way to know yet how they'd be reacting to the turmoil inside the USE. The city's own authorities were on the conservative side, and would thus be politically inclined toward the Crown Loyalists. On the other hand, it was the intervention of the Americans on the side of Gustav Adolf which had so quickly and decisively defeated Wallenstein's army as it moved to besiege the city. In more immediate and cruder geopolitical terms, two-thirds of the city-state's border adjoined the SoTF. Ed had always made it a point to stay on good terms with the Nurnbergers and they'd been just as punctilious returning the favor.
So, he didn't expect any problems. But these were uncertain times.
On a positive note, he finally managed to get in a complete sentence. Heinrich tended to be abrupt under pressure.
"I'm inclined to think we should accept the loss of Ingolstadt-for the moment-and concentrate on defending Regensburg."
"I agree," said General Schmidt.
"Let's settle on that, then. Take the division to Regensburg."
"What are the latest radio reports coming from the city?"
"Nothing, oddly enough. A few clashes with Bavarian skirmishers south of the Danube, but nothing worse. And there's still no sign of any attempts to cross the river. Not even probes."
"Not so odd as all that, Mr. President. Duke Maximilian still hasn't built his army back up to strength. He's gambling right now-obviously, because he thought traitors had given him a particularly strong hand." Darkly: "Which, indeed, they did. But he still would have concentrated all his forces at Ingolstadt. He would not have taken the risk of launching two simultaneous attacks so widely separated. It's more than thirty miles from Ingolstadt to Regensburg-on those roads at this time of year, at least a two-day march. Separated units could not reinforce each other in case of setbacks."
"In that case, how soon-"
"At least a week, would be my estimate. He'll want to assemble a large fleet of barges before he comes down the river toward Regensburg." Heinrich smiled, in that thin and humorless way he had. "No easy task, squeezing barges out of Danube rivermen. They'll hide them in places you'd never think of-burn them, sometimes, rather than give them up."
"That should give you-"
"I'll have the division in Regensburg long before then. We'll hold the city, Mr. President, never fear. How long it will take to recover Ingolstadt, on the other hand…" He shrugged again. "I would say that mainly depends on how the political situation here in the USE resolves itself."
"Yes, you're right. If all goes well-"
"The emperor recovers, Oxenstierna hangs, Wettin hangs-ask me if I care the swine got himself arrested-every other stinking traitor in Berlin hangs, we catch the traitors who sold out Ingolstadt-disembowel those bastards, hanging's too good for them-proper order is restored, the Prince of Germany is back in power where he belongs, and Maximilian is food for stray mongrels in the streets of Munich."
Ed stared at him. Heinrich could be…harsh.
"That seems perhaps a bit-"
"Yes, you're right. Munich's street curs are innocent parties to the business. Unfair to poison them with such foul meat. We'll feed the duke to his pigs instead."
After the general left, Ed dilly-dallied for a few minutes before finally accepting the need to take care of the business he most desperately did not want to take care of.
He'd have to write messages to be radioed to John Chandler Simpson in Luebeck and Mike Stearns in Bohemia. Telling the admiral that his son had vanished into the chaos of war and telling the general that his sister had done the same. Rita Simpson, nee Stearns, had been living in Ingolstadt with her husband Tom. God only knew what had happened to her when the Bavarians came pouring in.
Worst of all, he'd have to tell Mary Simpson, Tom's mother. And this would be no brief, antiseptic radio message. As luck would have it, she was in Bamberg at the moment, raising money for one of her many charities or cultural projects.
The Dame of Magdeburg, they called her. But before the day's end, she'd just be one of many anguished mothers.
There was something to be said for Heinrich Schmidt's simple remedies, all things considered. A Swedish chancellor throttled, a Bavarian duke munched on by hogs.
Ed could live with that. It'd still be nice to complete more than every fourth sentence, though. Luebeck Princess Kristina was reading the newspaper in Ulrik's hands by leaning over his shoulder. Most likely, because she found it comforting to rest her hands on his shoulders. It certainly wasn't because they could only afford one copy of the Hamburg Morgenpost. The money sent by King Christian had arrived the day before. Here as elsewhere, Ulrik's father had been profligate. If he wanted to-and he was tempted sometimes-the prince could now afford to launch his own newspaper.
The temptation wasn't as great at the moment, though, as it would have been at most times. Luebeck's own newspaper was wretched, but the city got quite regular delivery of Hamburg's largest newspaper. Allowing for its Fourth of July Party bias, the Morgenpost was quite good; one of the three or four best in central Europe, in Ulrik's opinion. It came out regularly and reliably twice a week, on Wednesdays and Saturdays, and in time of rapid developments of great public interest-such as right now-they strove to come out daily.
"Should we go right now, Ulrik?" the princess asked anxiously. "They've even arrested the prime minister!"
Yes, and what madness possessed Oxenstierna to do that? Ulrik had pondered that question from every angle, and from none of them did the deed look any
more intelligent. He'd finally concluded that Baldur's initial assessment had been correct.
"Wettin found out something-something really damaging-and Oxenstierna had to shut him up."
At the time, Ulrik had dismissed the notion as being too…Baldurian. Norddahlish? The Norwegian adventurer was fond of imagining dark and fiendish conspiracies in every corner.
In Ulrik's experience, that gave far too much credit to human ingenuity. Conspiracies existed, to be sure; many of them, and many were dark indeed. But fiendish? Fiendishness required brains. Nine times out of ten, conspirators behaved like buffoons and wound up exposing themselves out of sheer, bumbling incompetence.
He shook his head. "Not yet, Kristina. The more important thing isn't the news coming out of Berlin, it's the news coming out of Magdeburg."
She frowned. "But there isn't much news coming out of Magdeburg."
"Yes, precisely. That means someone is keeping things quiet and orderly in that city-much against my expectations, I can tell you that. By now, I'd expected accounts of rioting mobs. Well, mobs, anyway."
Baldur was sitting at a table in the corner of the salon. "At least a hanging or two!" he exclaimed, looking quite aggrieved. "Surely some nobleman was too stupid or too drunk to get out of the city before Oxenstierna blew everything up. But…nothing. The place seems as boring as a chur-ah…ah…"
Ulrik tried not to laugh, as the Norwegian groped for something-anything-that he found as boring as a church. And could come up with nothing. From the little smile on her face, Kristina was equally amused. Baldur Norddahl was to pastors what oil was to water, except that oil was not sarcastic.
Kristina's expression became very intent. "Oh! I see what you mean. It's like the detective says in one of those stories you lent me. The clever up-time English ones."
Ulrik made the connection almost immediately. "Yes, you're right. The curious incident of the dog in the night who did nothing-and that was what was curious."
