Eric Flint: 1635: The Eastern Front

"I'd rather be on a well-made river barge," added Baldur, "than be stuck in Berlin."

Kristina's jaws got tight. "I'm getting mad now."

"As well you should," Ulrik said.

"So what should we do?" she asked. "We can't stay here. Uncle Axel's word is law here. It really is. I never liked Stockholm anyway. Should we go to Copenhagen?"

Caroline Platzer looked alarmed, until she saw that Ulrik was already shaking his head.

"No. That would be a very bad mistake. I think it's essential that you and I stay together and-"

"Oh, yes!" Kristina exclaimed. "You have to stay with me, Ulrik! You have to!"

Her hands were gripping his as tightly as they could, now. Her eyes were wider than ever, her face as pale as he'd ever seen it.

"You have to!"

He drew her near and gently kissed her forehead. "You are my betrothed, Kristina," he said softly. "And I am not a man who takes my vows lightly. I will not leave you. I swear that on my honor, here before God."

She released his hands and threw her arms around him, clutching him tightly. "Good. That's very, very, very good. It would be so hard for me, without you."

After perhaps a minute, she relaxed her hug and stepped back a foot or so.

"But why not go to Copenhagen?"

"Because if we both go-and we would have to, since we've agreed to stay together-it would look as if I'd coerced you. And was trying to take advantage of the crisis to advance the interests of Denmark."

"Oh." She thought about that for a moment and then nodded. "That makes sense."

Caroline spoke up. "We probably don't have much time left, do we?"

Ulrik glanced at the pile of newspapers. "Not much, no. Uncle Ax-Oxenstierna is summoning all of them to Berlin. Well, Wettin is, officially. But I'm sure the chancellor is really the driving force now."

Ulrik had met Wilhelm Wettin and spent several hours in his company. He liked the man. But like him or not, the prime minister of the USE had recklessly plunged into the depths. Ulrik did not think those waters would suit him much. But into them he'd gone, nevertheless.

"Summoning all of who?" Caroline asked, frowning.

"Who do you think? Most of the major figures in the Crown Loyalist Party, to start with. But this goes beyond narrow politics. Important disgruntled noblemen, of course. Wealthy and resentful burghers. If a man has influence and wishes profoundly that the Ring of Fire had never happened, he's probably on his way to Berlin by now. He certainly got an invitation."

Caroline stared at him. She was now quite wide-eyed herself.

"You're guessing," she said abruptly.

"To a considerable degree, yes." He flicked a dismissive forefinger across the stack of newspapers. "Most of these are fairly wretched, and the ones that aren't come irregularly. So, yes, a lot of this is guesswork on my part." He flashed a little smile. "But on this subject I'm a very well educated guesser, you know."

"Well…?yeah, I guess that's true."

"So we have some time still, you think?" That came from Baldur. It was about as far removed from an idle question as could be imagined. Ulrik could practically hear the blades being sharpened, the pistols loaded…

The outrageous lies and subterfuges, of course.

"Yes, but not all that much. The chancellor-nor the prime minister, certainly-won't take any drastic public steps or measures until they have their own people organized." He snorted disdainfully. "As much as you can organize such a sullen pack of dogs. I swear, they make even Danish noblemen look like paragons of civic virtue. But once they feel they have the wind at their back, then-yes. If we're still here in Stockholm, they'll simply have us arrested if we haven't obeyed Oxenstierna and come to Berlin already."

"You too?" asked Kristina. "Won't that make your father very angry?"

"Probably. But…" Ulrik sighed. "I am very fond of my father in most ways. But he's simply not a king you can depend on in a crisis."

"So where do we go?" asked Caroline.

"I should think it was obvious. We go straight to the heart of power. We go to Magdeburg." His voice began to rise, as the anger finally seeped through. "Let the chancellor try to dictate who rules and who does not, when the rightful heir to the land, the empire and the union had placed herself in the bosom of her people. Let him try."

Kristina clapped her hands. "Oh, yes! People like me there!"

"Yes, they do. Soon, girl, they will like you even more."

Caroline Platzer finally realized the full scope of what was about to unfold.

"Prince," she said, her tone one of pleading. "She's still only a child…"

"I'm almost nine!" Kristina stamped her foot. "In a month. Month and a half. Well, almost two. Still, nine years old isn't a child anymore."

She looked up at her husband-to-be, who was almost three times her age. "Is it, Ulrik?"

He gave her a shoulder a little squeeze. "For most people, yes. Nine years old is still a child. But you're of the house of Vasa and I'm of the house of Oldenburg, We grow up much faster."

Kristina gave Caroline a triumphant look. "See?"

Caroline wasn't looking at the princess, though. She was still looking at Ulrik.

"I didn't…?I hadn't…"

He cocked an eyebrow. "Yes?"

She swallowed. Then took a breath and squared her shoulders, as if she were a soldier reporting for duty. "I never understood-never realized-I didn't think…"

She took a second breath. Her shoulders relaxed a little.

"I guess I just didn't think you were this…?bold."

"Oh, most certainly!" exclaimed Baldur. He clapped Ulrik on the shoulder. "In the olden days he'd have gone a-viking. Every summer! And I'd have followed him, too."

The humor went away, then. Norddahl's eyes were normally a light blue, but now they looked almost gray. Not the warm gray of ash, but the gray of arctic seas.

"Every summer, I'd have followed him," he said quietly. "Each and every one. There are not so many princes in the world-not real ones-that you can afford to let go of the one you find."

"That's very…?medieval, Baldur," said Kristina. Very, very approvingly.

Kassel, capital of Hesse-Kassel

Amalie Elizabeth von Hanau-Munzenberg had access to many more newspapers than Ulrik did. Better ones, too.

But she'd let slip her lifelong habit of reading newspapers, these past weeks. She was a widow now, no longer a wife. And she'd found that the change had affected her far more powerfully than she would have believed, before her husband was killed on the banks of the Warta.

Her marriage to Wilhelm V had been one of political convenience and family advancement, originally, as were most marriages among their class of people. Neither at the beginning nor at any time since could you say they were romantically involved, in the way the up-timers used the phrase.

Still, they'd been married for years. She'd borne him a son, who would someday become William VI. She could hear him now playing in a nearby room, with all the energy and enthusiasm of a healthy six-year-old boy. He was a smart boy too, it was already obvious.

For years, the last face she'd seen most days before she slept was her husband's. And his was usually the first face she saw in the morning. Except for servants, of course, but they didn't count.

She'd almost always been glad to see the face, too. Many wives in her class dreaded opening their eyes in the morning. But she never had. Wilhelm's worst flaws had simply been irritating, nothing worse than that. If he wasn't always the cleverest and shrewdest of men, he was certainly no dullard, either. Generally good-natured, often of good cheer…

She missed him. She really missed him. There was still an ache inside.

Finally, though, just a few days ago, she'd started to resume her normal activities.