The Saxon Uprising-ARC

Chapter 55


The United States of Europe

All of the major newspapers in the country and many of the smaller ones came out with the story the next morning. It didn’t matter what day of the week they normally published. It didn’t matter whether they were morning papers or evening papers. Even if the edition was just a one-page special edition, nothing more than a glorified leaflet, they all published something.

The headline varied from city to city and province to province, but the gist was essentially the same:

the prince arrives in magdeburg

summoned to the palace by the emperor

Darmstadt, Province of the Main

After everyone on the city council finished reading the news report, the major cleared his throat.

“We’ll just have to wait and see what happens.”

The militia commander shook his head. “We’re f*cked is what’s going to happen.”

One of the city council members made a face. “You can’t say that for sure, Gerlach.”

“You watch,” said the militia commander. “The emperor will be putty in the Prince’s hands. He’ll cave in across the board.”

Nobody said anything. In their heart of hearts, they were pretty sure he was right.

Augsburg, one of the 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.