1634: The Baltic War (assiti chards)
Page 80
As it happened, it didn't matter. As soon as he finished, Anne Cathrine drew herself up in as haughty a pose as a fifteen-and-five-sixths-year old could manage-not too good, really, although the out-thrust bosom was magnificent, even in formal court wear-and gave her father what would be called a "withering look" if she'd been twice the age and could pull it off.
But that didn't matter either. "I told you, Papa!" she exclaimed. Then she gathered her skirts, rushed to Eddie, threw her arms around him and planted a big kiss on his cheek.
"Tonight," she whispered into his ear. "Northwest corner room. Third floor. I'll open the window."
She glanced down at his feet. Foot and peg leg, rather. "Oh, I forgot. Can you manage a rope?"
Before Eddie could answer-or even catch his breath-her father was bellowing something about impropriety and Anne Cathrine scurried back.
Gustav Adolf drew his sword. "Come here, Lieutenant Cantrell."
Oh, shit.
The emperor leaned his head toward Christian IV. "I suppose I should properly do it elsewhere, since this is imperial and not Union business. But with your permission?"
The Danish king was still glaring at his daughter. "Oh, yes, certainly, brother. No need to stand on formalities."
Simpson's hand propelled Eddie forward. When he was just a few feet from the emperor, Gustav said, "Kneel, sir."
He then glanced at a man standing next to him. Eddie didn't recognize him, but he was wearing a Swedish army uniform. "Have we established any firm protocol yet, Nils?"
The Swedish officer shook his head. "Not really, Your Majesty. This is only the second, so it's all still rather malleable."
"In that case, I'll do it like in the movies. It's got more style."
By then, Eddie was on his knees, more-or-less driven down by Simpson's hand. The treacherous bastard.
Gustav frowned. "Something's not right."
"One knee only, Your Majesty."
"Ah, yes, of course. On one knee only, Lieutenant."
Confused, Eddie did as he was told. Did it really matter how many knees a man was on, when they chopped off his head?
At least it'd be quick. That was a real sword that had been wielded in real battles, and by a king who knew how to use it.
But Eddie was confused again when the sword simply came down, rapped him lightly on both shoulders, and was withdrawn.
"Rise, now, Imperial Count of Wismar!" boomed Gustav II Adolf.
"That calls for a drink!" boomed Christian IV. "In the banquet hall! Eddie, you sit next to me, of course, now that you're part of the family."
Chapter 70
It wasn't until nine o'clock that night before Eddie managed to weasel his way out of the banquet hall. He was a lot less sober than he wanted to be, but still sober enough to walk and-hopefully-skinny up a rope with only one foot.
It took him a while to find the right part of the palace, and when he did he was dismayed to see that another man was already standing there. He was looking up at the windows on the floors above, with a puzzled frown on his face.
As he got closer, Eddie recognized the man. His face, anyway, since he didn't know his name. It was the fellow who'd been standing next to Caroline Platzer in the big room.
Seeing nothing else to do, Eddie just marched up to him. Well, stumped up.
As he came near, the man looked at him and gave him a formal little bow. More in the way of an exaggerated nod, really.
"Good evening, Imperial Count of Wismar."
"Ah… Lieutenant Eddie Cantrell, please. That count business was none of my doing and I'm not too comfortable with it."
The stranger's blocky face was suddenly creased by a smile. One of those genuinely friendly smiles that made Eddie instinctively sense he probably liked the guy.
"Yes, I know," the man chuckled. "They made me the imperial count of Narnia right after I arrived. But I'm actually just Thorsten Engler."
He stuck out his hand and Eddie shook it.
"What are you doing here, Thorsten, if I might ask? And are you kidding about the Narnia business?"
"To answer your questions in reverse order, the Narnia issue is still unsettled. My betrothed thinks that it's preposterous to force a whole town to change its name on a royal whim, and she's insisting that the princess tell her father to change it back. Princess Kristina, on the other hand, insists that 'count of Nutschel' sounds stupid and she likes Narnia and so there. In this instance, unlike many, I suspect the princess will win the contest of wills. As to the first…"
He looked up at the row of windows on the third floor of the palace. The very many windows on a palace the size you'd expect Christian IV to build. "As to the first, I'm faced with a quandary."
The proverbial lightbulb went off. "You're engaged to Caroline Platzer. Uh, betrothed, I mean."
"Yes, indeed. A simple farm boy, in my origins, who never expected he'd someday have to figure out which window… Ah!" He pointed an eager finger. "There!"
Looking up, Eddie saw that a window had been opened and a rope was being lowered. Thorsten began moving toward it.
Before he'd taken three steps, however, another window was opened and another rope began coming down.
The imperial count of Narnia came to an abrupt halt. "And now what?"
"Who ordered this?" demanded Eddie
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