'All right, then. We'll need to form a new committee to take charge of the resistance against the Swedes. Politically neutral, as it were. I propose one-third of the seats will be held by the CoC, one-third will be divided between the soldiers, the militias, and the city council-however they choose to divide them-and the remaining third will be split evenly between the Vogtlanders and representatives of the towns in the plain.'
That was an exceedingly generous gesture on the part of the CoC, especially toward the Vogtlanders. Of course, the generosity was more formal than real, in some ways. The militias and especially the regular soldiers were so heavily influenced by the CoC that they could be relied upon to follow its guidance. Even the city council by now was close to the CoC, since most of its former patrician members had fled the city.
Still, the formalities were significant, not just empty posturing. The fact that Richter was willing to make such a proposal indicated that she would listen to people outside the CoC also.
'We'll need a new name for it, Gretchen,' said Tata.
'Yes, I know. I propose to call it the Committee of Public Safety.'
Eric had to stifle a sudden, semi-hysterical laugh. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Friedrich's lips purse.
But Nagel didn't say anything. Looking around the table, Eric realized that he and his fellow lieutenant were the only ones there-leaving aside Gretchen herself, he presumed-who understood the historical allusion.
'I like it,' grunted Kuefer. 'It's neutral sounding but it ought to send the right message to the Swedes.'
After the meeting broke up, Eric and Friedrich waited for Gretchen in the corridor outside the conference chamber.
'What is it?' she asked, when she emerged. 'I don't have much time right now. I need to give Wettin the news myself. I don't want him hearing it first in the form of rumor.'
Eric cleared his throat. 'Friedrich and I were talking and…ah…that title for the committee you proposed…'
'That I proposed and everyone agreed to, including you. At least, you raised no objection. What about it?'
'Well…ah…some people might think we were being provocative…' He trailed off.
'For God's sake, Gretchen,' burst out Nagel, 'it's the name Robespierre and his people used!'
'Leaving aside the metaphysical issue of whether the verb 'use' makes sense in the past tense for something that won't happen for a century and a half in another universe, you're right. That's why I chose it.'
She paused and gave both of them a cold stare. 'Since you've apparently read the history, I will point out that this same Committee of Public Safety was responsible for defeating every one of the royalist nations who invaded France to restore the king. The reactionary propagandists against Robespierre and Danton don't like to talk much about that, do they?'
'But…Surely you don't propose to erect a guillotine in the central square?'
She frowned. 'Why in the world would we do that, when we've got plenty of stout German axes at hand? We're not French sissies.'
She swept off, down the corridor, headed toward the administrator's chambers.
'I…think that was a joke,' ventured Friedrich.
Eric took off his hat and ran fingers through his hair. Then, jammed it back on. 'With Gretchen, who knows? But we'll take that as our working hypothesis. Anyway, what's the difference? We'll probably all be dead in a couple of months anyway, between Baner and typhus.'
'Don't forget the plague,' said Friedrich, as they began walking in the other direction. He was more chipper already, now that he had catastrophes to dwell on. 'Always a reliable guest in such affairs. And I hear there's a new disease we'll be encountering one of these days. They call it 'cholera.' It's quite fascinating. Apparently, your bowels turn to water and you shit and puke yourself to death.'
After Gretchen Richter left his office, Ernst Wettin rose from his desk and went to the northern window. That provided him with his favorite view of the valley.
There were settlements over there on the north bank of the Elbe, but the big majority of the city's populace lived south of the river. He'd been told by a friend who'd gotten a look at an up-time travel guide in Grantville that someday-about half a century from now, during a period they would call 'the Baroque'-the city would expand greatly over there. But in this day and age, the walls of the city did not include those north bank settlements. They'd have no protection once a siege began.
They wouldn't be there much longer, however. One of the things Richter had told him was that she'd ordered the destruction of all buildings north of the river. Most of the inhabitants had already fled into the city, as news spread of the atrocities being committed by the oncoming Swedish army. Richter would have the ones who remained evacuated also, and then they'd burn everything to the ground.
She'd sent orders to have every village within ten miles evacuated and burned also. The inhabitants would either come into the city or find refuge with the Vogtlanders in the mountains to the south. Baner and his army would have no choice but to spend the coming winter in camps.
Technically, the orders would come from this new 'Committee of Public Safety.' (Odd title, that. He wondered where they'd gotten it from?) Because of the very visible and prominent place on it given to the Vogtlanders and leaders of some of the important towns in the plain, those orders would probably be obeyed, too.
She hadn't said so, but Ernst was quite sure that it had been Richter herself who saw to it that the rural folk had plenty of representation on the new Committee. She'd understood that Dresden had to have the support of the surrounding countryside-all of Saxony, not just the city itself-if it was to withstand a siege by an army the strength of Baner's. And that same support would be a constant drain on the besiegers.
Regardless of who sat on the Committee, the driving will was Richter's. She made even the notoriously harsh Georg Kresse seem soft, once she'd decided on a course of action. The woman had always been polite and pleasant in her dealings with him, but Ernst had not fooled himself. Beneath that attractive surface lay a granite mind; as unyielding as the Alps and as ruthless as an avalanche.
They had no idea what they were unleashing, those idiots in Berlin. They dreamed of another bloodbath like the one that had drowned the rebellion during the Peasant War, that would once again restore their power and privileges. But even that slaughter had only stemmed the tide for a century.
What was a century? Nothing, if a man was capable of stepping back and measuring human affairs by a yardstick longer than his own life-and what was a life? Also nothing, if a man was capable of stepping back and measuring his soul against eternity.
But…they listened to those parsons they chose to listen to. The ones who assured them that the Almighty who created the sun and the moon and the heavens favored the wealthy and powerful-never mind what the Christ said-and would approve of their butchery. The God who filled oceans would gaze with favor upon the men who filled abattoirs.
Idiots, now; greater idiots still, when they faced judgment.
For butchery it would have to be. Richter would not yield, and neither would her followers-who now included hundreds of soldiers from the regular army's Third Division. Whose commander had somehow forgotten them.
That would be Mike Stearns. The same man whom Ernst's brother had once described, half-angrily and half-admiringly, with the up-time expression 'he's got a mind like a steel trap.'
That would be his brother Wilhelm, now one of the idiots in Berlin. What had happened to him? How and when had he lost his judgment and his good sense?
What did Wilhelm think would happen when those soldiers in Dresden came under fire from a Swedish army? Did he-did that still greater idiot Oxenstierna-think Stearns would remain obediently in Bohemia?
For a time, maybe. Probably, in fact. In his own way, Stearns was every bit as ruthless as Richter. He was quite capable of biding his time while the defenders of Dresden bled Baner's army-and von Arnim's too, if he ventured out of Leipzig.
But sooner or later, he would be back. Leading the same soldiers who defeated the Poles at Zwenkau and Zielona Gora, and now had their comrades threatened by Baner. Did they think those soldiers would refuse to follow Stearns?
Were they mad?
And what did they think Torstensson would do with the rest of the USE army? At best, he would hold them
