That got him a roar of approval.
'And now, the time has come for you to turn west again, to show our people what conquerors look like!' A bigger roar.
'But do not get so caught up in the celebrations of your triumph that you fail to keep your skills sharp.'
Hussein found himself a bit surprised. Murad didn't ordinarily make noises like an odabashi worried about an inspection.
'For in the spring we will be going to teach that German king who calls himself Austria's emperor a lesson!'
A profound silence fell. A new campaign in the spring, then. Against the Christians.
And then the roar began to build. Hussein found himself joining the roar, a roar that might have been heard in Vienna itself.
At last, a war against the true infidels. A chance for glory unparalleled in his lifetime. It seemed clear now that Sultan Murad was being lead by Allah. First the success of this campaign, more complex than anything since Suleiman's day. Now a march-at long last-against the Christians.
From this day forth, Uzun Hussein would never think of the sultan as anything other than Murad Gazi. Perhaps he would live to see the young sultan lead them to Rome itself.
PART IV
February 1636 Among these barren crags
Chapter 31
Dresden, capital of Saxony The take-off was even worse than Eddie had feared it would be. Partly that was because the headwind wasn't what he'd wanted. He hadn't felt he had any choice but to take off, though. The weather had been bad for a week and, this time of year, was likely to be bad again very soon. Today, the sky was clear and almost cloudless not only here in Dresden but also in Magdeburg and whatever his final destination was. So he was told over the radio, anyway. He still had no idea of the nature of his mission, other than it was apparently of supreme importance.
Whatever that final goal was, he had to get to Magdeburg first-and he almost didn't make it out of Dresden. At the very end of the impromptu runway created by the feverish demolition work of the past week, the wingtips cleared the rooftops while most of the fuselage was still inside the street once the widened part ended. If there'd been a chimney there, on either side, he'd have gone down with a wing torn off-and any unexpected gust would have done the same.
Had there been anyone sitting in the cockpit next to him, they'd have been struck by the young pilot's icy demeanor. Inside his brain, monkeys were gibbering with terror-he could hear the damn things-but there was no expression at all on his face. Nor were his hands sweaty, nor was he shivering anywhere. Eddie Junker was one of those people who somehow managed to stay completely calm in the face of danger. Noelle had once told him the French called it sang-froid, which she said was the only French term she knew except ones not fit for mixed company-which were the ones he'd have been interested in, but she'd refused to tell him.
He could only, at the end, as the wingtips emerged out of the street-canyon, thank God for giving him the courage and the tenacity and the fortitude and the pluck and the resolution and the perseverance and the valor to tell Denise no! and make it stick after a battle that cast any mere trifle involving huge armies into the shade.
'It's a good thing your boyfriend had big enough balls to make you stay behind,' said Minnie Hugelmair, as she and Denise watched the plane fly out of Dresden, 'or you'd both be dead.'
'Well…'
'Admit it. He was right and you were wrong.'
'Well…'
'Crash, boom, a burst of flame, they'd have to identify your body by the teeth or something.'
'Well…'
'Maybe not, since he's barely got enough gas to make it to Magdeburg. Still, pieces of you would be scattered all over the place. Little bitty pieces.'
'Well…'
'The rats would declare it a holiday. St. Denise's Day. Well, no, just St. Crispy's Day. It's not like they know your name. Or would care anyway.'
'Well…'
The sight of the plane flying over his lines put General Johan Baner in a fouler mood than usual. And he was usually in a foul mood, these days. Who would have thought CoC riffraff could have held Dresden against him for an entire month? He'd been sure he'd break his way into the city within two or three days.
Noelle Stull hadn't watched the takeoff. She was half-sure Eddie was going to die in the attempt, and just couldn't bear the idea of watching it happen. She and Eddie were very close friends and had been through a lot together.
When the triumphant roar went up from the crowd in the square, though, she knew her fears had been groundless. Well, not groundless, exactly. There'd been good reason to be worried, even after Eddie stripped every spare ounce of weight out of the plane. That so-called 'runway' was a travesty, even after it was lengthened by demolishing part of the street that served as the final stretch.
Almost every spare ounce, rather. He had agreed to carry out her latest letter to Janos Drugeth.
'That's silly,' she'd said. 'I don't even have it addressed.'
'Says right here: 'Janos Drugeth, Hofburg, Vienna, Austria.' '
'As if that's going to do any good!'
Eddie shrugged. 'You never know. He's the emperor's friend as well as one of his chief aides. They'd know where to find him, I think.'
She'd still been dubious. 'You said you needed to remove every unnecessary ounce. That letter weighs at least an ounce. Maybe two.'
'I was exaggerating. Had to, on account of Denise. I should have said 'every unnecessary pound.' '
'So I can't sent him a box of chocolates, huh?'
'You've got chocolates?'
'I was exaggerating. On account of myself. God, I wish I could fly out of here with you.'
'No.'
'But I'm skinny. I only weigh-'
'No!'
'Especially now, the rations we've been on, I probably don't even weigh-'
'You and Denise both!' Luebeck, USE naval base 'He's off,' said Admiral Simpson, as soon as he entered the set of rooms in the naval base that had been transformed into a royal suite of sorts. (Emphasis on 'of sorts'-the royal beds were cots. On the other hand, the plumbing was superb.) 'We just got word over the radio.'
Kristina and Baldur looked up from the card game they were playing at the mess bench that passed for a royal dining table. For his part, Ulrik took the time to place a bookmark in the text he was reading before doing the same. He was seated on the bench next to the princess.
'How soon will he arrive?' Kristina asked eagerly. The girl adored flying-anywhere, anytime, for any reason.
Simpson waggled his hand in a gesture indicating some uncertainty. 'By late afternoon, Your Highness, assuming the weather holds. He needs to fuel up in Magdeburg first. Apparently there wasn't much petrol left in the plane. So you won't be able to make the flight back to Magdeburg until tomorrow morning.'
As he had been before, Ulrik was a bit intrigued by the admiral's use of the term 'petrol.' The Danish prince had discovered from his research that the term was English, not American. Most up-timers would have called it
