Eric Flint - 1634 - The Baltic War

"In other words, fifteen. As I said. Which brings us to the core of the matter. Did you or did you not-in a submarine, no less, which may speak well of your nautical interests but does not help you in the least in these circumstances-deflower the fifteen-year-old daughter of the king of Denmark?"

"Well." Eddie cleared his throat. "Well, sir."

"Perhaps you're unfamiliar with the term 'deflower.' The common and much coarser variant is 'popped her cherry.' So, I repeat. Lieutenant Cantrell, did you or did not pop the cherry of the king of Denmark's fifteen-year-old daughter?"

For a moment, wildly, Eddie's mind careened back to the memory of what had been-to hell with admirals, standing at attention, kings, and the whole damn world-easily the most wonderful moment of his life.

"Well. Yes, sir. I guess. In a manner of speaking."

Simpson's stone face finally moved. Slightly. His eyebrows went up perhaps a quarter of an inch.

" 'In a manner of speaking.' Lieutenant Cantrell-since you force me to be clinical about it-that particular act is generally only carried out in one manner. The male involved inserts his penis into the female's vagina, which had not theretofore been penetrated in that manner and with that human organ, and does so fully. There may or may not be a hymen in the way, but whether there is or isn't does not actually affect the end result. The male usually but not always ejaculates inside the vagina when the act is concluded; but, again, whether he does or doesn't has no relevance here. Prior to the performance of this act, the female is considered a 'virgin.' Often, the term 'maiden' is used as well or instead. Thereafter, she is not."

He was back to that detestable piercing-gaze business. "So. I will rephrase the question, in the hopes that I might finally get a straight answer from a junior officer whom I have quite distinct recollections of being forthright even to the point of annoying the piss out of me. Is Anne Cathrine, the fifteen year old daughter of the king of Denmark, still a virgin?"

"Ah. Well." Eddie cleared his throat. "No, sir. She is not." He could have added-had the situation called for an imbecile hopping up and down in joyful remembrance of things past-not by a country mile, sir. Not after two and a half days in that submarine.

But he didn't. Not being actually an imbecile, even if he was probably doing a fair imitation.

"And you are responsible for this transformation in her status?"

"Well. Yes, sir."

The admiral looked away, finally-thankfully!-and spent perhaps a minute staring out the window. Eddie spent that minute wondering whether he'd just be struck by the admiral's lightning, or whether they'd actually turn him over to King Christian to be fitted into a diving suit for the world's grossest form of execution. Clearly enough, that was the question his commanding officer was contemplating.

In point of fact, John Chandler Simpson was waging a mighty struggle not to burst into laughter. Having been introduced to Anne Cathrine the day before, it wasn't as if he had any trouble understanding Eddie's actions. The girl's very evident concern and anxiety for Eddie's fate had actually been more impressive than her attractive physical appearance. Simpson didn't have any doubt that there was a lot more involved here than simply youthful hormones.

Even the girl's age didn't bother him, being honest about it. True enough, in most states back up-time, she'd not reached the age of consent. But that was more a matter of stubborn American legal tradition than anything in the real world, or anything Simpson cared about on a moral level. Most European countries even in the world he'd come from would have considered her of legal age. If he remembered correctly, Denmark and Sweden were among them.

Customs in the seventeenth century varied a great deal, as did the legal systems themselves. But the issue didn't usually revolve around the matter of age, as such.

Beyond that, John Chandler Simpson wasn't a hypocrite. Or liked to think not, at least. Like most Americans from upper class backgrounds-probably any backgrounds, although he wasn't sure about that-both he and his wife Mary had become sexually active in their mid-teens. Fifteen years old, in his case, with a high-school girlfriend he still remembered quite fondly. In Mary's case, the day after her sixteenth birthday, which she'd celebrated with a high school boyfriend she now claimed to detest.

Of course, what neither of those high-school paramours had been was royalty. Which was really what was at issue here. And, perhaps still more to the point, neither of them had been motivated by royal ruthlessness-whose presence here was quite apparent. Indeed, quite impressive, in its own way. He wouldn't have thought Christian IV to be that subtle. A good reminder, really, that simply because a man is an alcoholic doesn't mean he isn't shrewd and canny when he's sober.

"You realize you were played, don't you?" he asked Eddie, still looking out the window.

From the corner of his eye, Simpson could see Cantrell's little start of surprise. "Sir?"

He decided he could allow himself a smile, finally. Just a thin one, of course. Wise, stern, knowing, etc., etc. So it was with that expression on his face that he turned back to look at Eddie.

"Played. I'd say 'played for a fool' except that I don't actually think you've stumbled into outright folly. Not so far, anyway."

Eddie was practically gaping at him. Simpson was pleased to see, however, that the youngster was still standing at attention. By God, there was hope for him yet.

"For Pete's sake, Eddie. Are you so naive as to think that a captured enemy officer would be allowed in close and continual proximity to the oldest daughter-princess or not, who cares?-of the king who holds him imprisoned? More than that! From your jumbled explanation earlier, it's blindingly obvious that the two of you were practically thrown at each other. And with the whole damn royal family in on the game. Her brother Ulrik, for certain. Her father, needless to say. And-"

It had to be said, and said bluntly. "And the girl herself, of course."

After a moment, Eddie swallowed. A hurt look seemed to creep into his eyes.

Simpson unclasped his hands and gave a little dismissive wave with the left. "Oh, don't misunderstand me. I don't have any doubt your prin-king's daughter-is genuinely fond of you. May even be in love with you, insofar as the term ever applies to royalty in this day and age. Royal or not, fifteen-year-old girls don't give up their virginity in cold blood. Not that one, at least; so much is clear enough to me, having met her. But the fact remains that this thing was set up from the very beginning. Literally, from the day you arrived here. By her father, with both her and Prince Ulrik as part of the…"

He shook his head, slightly. "I'm not sure what to call it. 'Plot' implies the intent to do harm, which isn't actually involved here. Not, at least, unless you're one of those idiots who thinks getting married is a fate worse than death. 'Scheme' comes closer, but it's still got too much of a sinister connotation. The best word is actually 'machination,' if you give it the proper Machiavellian twist. The way a smart king will, when he considers that the world of power can take many twists and turns, so he'd do well to make preparations for alternative outcomes. And however much alcohol he consumes, Christian IV is a very smart man."

Eddie swallowed again. "You're kidding. Uh, sir."

Simpson chuckled. "Oh, stand at ease, will you? Eddie, when have you ever known me to kid you? Or anyone, for that matter. I'm hardly what people think of as a jester."

"Ah… well, never. Sir. But…"

He was still in that same rigid pose. Simpson placed his right hand on the young man's shoulder and gave it a little shake. "At ease, I said. Eddie, it's not the end of the world. Not, at least, if you're willing to let a small modicum of intelligence enter into what has heretofore clearly been a matter guided only by… well. I won't say there were no brains involved, since there clearly were on the part of the Danish royal family. But there were certainly damn few on yours."