USE's seven independent imperial cities The commander of Augsburg's militia, Ruprecht Amsel, was in a good mood. He'd reached the point where he didn't much care any longer how the citizenship question got resolved. If he'd had his own preferences, the requirements would be fairly stringent. A man would have to own at least a reasonable amount of property-and women wouldn't have the vote at all.
But he'd come to appreciate something far more than he had before. He'd never heard of Dr. Johnson and never would, but his thought processes over the past few months had been a perfect illustration of Johnson's quip that the prospect of being hanged concentrates the mind wonderfully.
Apprentices with uppity attitudes were annoying. So were indigents who thought they should have the same rights as solid men.
Maximilian of Bavaria, on the other hand, was not annoying. He was downright awful. A tavern in Melsungen, in the province of Hesse-Kassel 'Here's to the health of our landgravine!' shouted one of the revelers, holding up his stein of beer. 'Long may she reign!'
The tavern was full, as it often was on a winter's eve. Not a single stein failed to come up to join the toast.
Another reveler stood up, hoisting his stein. 'And here's to the emperor! May he drive a hard bargain!'
Not a single stein came up to join that toast. Confused, the reveler looked around. Then, realizing his error, hoisted his stein again.
'But not too hard!'
Now the steins came up to join him. A tavern on the coast of the Pomeranian Bay The fisherman squinted at the newssheet. 'D'you think they'll be able to reach an agreement?'
'Is the sea wet?' asked one of his companions.
'Is the sea salty?' asked the other. Paris, capital of France After he finished reading the copies of the intercepted radio messages that Servien had given him, Richelieu rose from his desk and went over to one of the window in his palace.
'What do you think will come out of it, Your Grace?' asked Servien.
'Nothing good for France,' was the cardinal's reply. Madrid, capital of Spain There was no reaction to the upcoming meeting in the court of Spain.
They had no radio. They wouldn't receive the news for days yet. Brussels, capital of the Netherlands Fernando I looked around the conference table at his closest advisers.
'We're all agreed, then?' said the king in the Netherlands. 'We will make no further effort to improve our position?'
'Not with the Swede and Stearns about to reach an agreement,' said Rubens. 'We'd just be wasting our time.'
'Can we be so sure of that?' wondered Scaglia. 'They haven't reached an agreement yet. Maybe they won't be able to.'
Archduchess Isabella sniffed. 'And maybe horses will learn to sing. But I'm still not wasting my time by going to the stables and sitting around in the hopes it might happen.' Poznan, Poland 'The king refuses to accept the Swede's offer of a truce,' said Stanislaw Koniecpolski. 'As I expected.'
Lukasz Opalinski's had expected exactly the same thing. Wladyslaw IV was as predictable as the Sejm. Given a choice between two options, you could always rely on them to choose the wrong one.
'Still no word from Jozef?'
Lukasz shook his head. 'He must not have found any new batteries yet.' Dresden, capital of Saxony Actually, Jozef had found new batteries. When Eddie Junker had returned, he'd flown in some emergency supplies. They'd all been high-value and low-weight, of course. Among them had been some batteries.
Unfortunately, Gretchen Richter had placed them under lock and key and he had no legitimate reason he could simply ask for some. So he'd been trying to figure out how he might steal a few.
Reluctantly. He felt like a dwarf of legend trying to figure out how to steal part of a dragon's treasure. A blonde and good-looking dragon. But still a dragon.
True, the dragon had been pre-occupied of late with her husband. People had been making jokes about it.
But that was not particularly comforting. Not when the husband commanded a regiment called the Hangman and was said to have cut off a general's head with his own volley gun company.
Chapter 56
Magdeburg, capital of the United States of Europe After the servant ushered Mike into Gustav Adolf's chamber, he left, closing the door behind him. Mike watched him go, with a slight smile on his smile.
'Yes, yes,' said Gustav Adolf. 'As you can see, I am adopting an up-time custom. We will actually have a private meeting.'
The emperor was sitting in a very large and very comfortable-looking armchair. Another one, equally large and comfortable-looking, was positioned a few feet away, angled toward his own. A low table sat between them, with a pot and two cups on it. There was also a bowl of sugar and a small pitcher of cream.
'Your preference is coffee, if I recall correctly. Black, no cream or sugar.'
'Yes, Your Majesty. Thank you.'
Gustav Adolf lifted the pot and poured them both a cup. As he did so, he waved his hand. 'Please, Michael. I think we would do better to keep this informal. Call me Gustav, if you would.'
Mike nodded and sat down. This was…interesting. Also unexpected. His relations with the king of Sweden had always been cordial, except in the heat of negotiations, but never what you'd call intimate. They'd been friendly but not friends. Was Gustav Adolf seeking to change that?
If so, Mike was certainly willing-provided the change didn't come at too high a price. The emperor would want something in return, of course. Mike didn't fault him for that. It was a given that an emperor wants something, unless he's incompetent.
He decided the best tactic was to cut right to the chase.
'Why don't we begin by you telling the thing you want most from me that you think I'm most likely to object to, Gustav.' He picked up his cup and took a sip. The coffee was superb, as you'd expect.
The emperor smiled, as he stirred some sugar into his own cup and added some cream. 'Very well. We're going to need a new election soon, obviously. The existing parliament has lost all credibility with the nation.' His pleasant expression darkened for a moment. 'It has certainly lost it with me.'
'Until he loses a vote of confidence, Wilhelm is under no legal obligation to call for new elections,' Mike pointed out. 'And he can stall holding a new session of parliament for some time, given the current…ah, chaos.'
His own expression darkened a little. 'If for no other reason, he can argue that your disqualification of dozens of Crown Loyalist MPs requires that special elections be held in those districts to elect new representatives before any full session of parliament can be called. And I'd have to say I'd agree with him. Before we go any further, by the way, I'm giving you notice that I plan to contest that issue with you very strenuously. Privately, I'll agree that those people are worthless bums and had it coming. But I can't agree to allowing the emperor the right to unilaterally declare any MP to be disqualified from office. That power needs to be reserved for the parliament alone.'
Before the emperor could respond, Mike raised his hand. 'I don't ask that you do it immediately. That would make it seem as if you were caving in from pressure coming from me. By all means, wait a week or two. Wait a month, if need be. But I want those disqualifications rescinded.'
In times past that would probably have led to one of their frequent clashes. A bit to Mike's surprise, after an initial stiffening of his back, Gustav Adolf visibly made himself relax. He even took another sip of coffee before replying.
'Let us leave that aside for the moment. In terms of what we were discussing, it's not relevant. I've already spoken to Wilhelm-just two days ago, in this very room-and he assured me he plans to call for new elections before the month is over.'
