1636:The Saxon Uprising as-11

by Eric Flint

  Understanding the gesture, Oxenstierna gave the prime minister's shoulder a friendly little squeeze. "The mob can wait, Wilhelm. Reassuring you regarding this Bavarian business is more important." And with that, he left.

  As he'd promised the prime minister, he returned very quickly. Within less than a minute, in fact. For weeks, the chancellor had made sure that the Swedish soldiers who served Wettin as bodyguards were completely reliable. The two he found currently on duty just outside the prime minister's quarters would do as well as any.

  "I'm afraid I have to put you under arrest, Your Grace," Oxenstierna announced, quietly and coldly.

  Wettin stared at the two guards approaching him. At the last minute, he tried to draw the sword scabbarded to his waist. It was a valiant if pointless gesture. The sword was a ceremonial blade; capable of killing a man, to be sure, but not really well-suited to the task. The soldiers, in contrast, were armed with halberds and pistols.

  They were also quite a bit larger than the prime minister and in much better physical condition. Wettin was a fairly young man, still, not even forty years of age. But he'd spent the past few years in sedentary pursuits, where these men were in their twenties and had remained physically active. It was the work of but a few seconds to subdue him.

  Wettin began shouting. Curses at Oxenstierna, at the moment, but it wouldn't be long before he began calling for help.

  In all likelihood, none would come. But there was no point taking the risk.

  "Gag him," Oxenstierna commanded. "Place him for the moment in my chambers. Keep him gagged and under close watch until I return."

  That wouldn't be for some hours, which would be most unpleasant for Wettin. Having a cloth gag in one's mouth was a nuisance for a short time; uncomfortable, for an hour; and the cause of bleeding sores after several. But the man had made his choice, so let him live with it.

  On his way to the assembly hall, Oxenstierna pondered the prime minister's-no, the former prime minister's-final disposition.

  Executing him would be unwise. That would stiffen the resistance of such people as Amalie Elizabeth of Hesse-Kassel and Duke George of Brunswick, not to mention the man's two brothers still in the USE. Ernst Wettin had to be replaced in Saxony anyway, of course, since he'd also proven unreliable. But he and Albrecht would remain influential in some circles regardless of the positions they currently held.

  There was no way of knowing what reaction Wilhelm's execution would elicit from his youngest brother Bernhard. But for the moment, that was another pot that Oxenstierna would just as soon leave unstirred.

  And there was no need for such drastic action, anyway. Oxenstierna was not given to killing people for the sake of it. Exiling Wettin to one of the more isolated castles in Sweden-even better, Finland-would serve the chancellor's purposes perfectly well. The former prime minister really had worn out his welcome even with his own followers. A popular pretender kept in exile always posed a potential threat. Wilhelm Wettin would not.

  Oxenstierna's assessment proved quite accurate. He began the assembly by making the announcement that Wilhelm Wettin had been discovered plotting with seditious elements and been placed under arrest. Following the laws of the USE, his successor would be whatever person was chosen by the party in power, the Crown Loyalists. The Swedish chancellor elided over the fact that he had no authority in the USE to be arresting anyone and that he was planning to discard those same laws as soon as possible.

  "If you will allow me to offer my advice, I would recommend that you choose Johann Wilhelm Neumair von Ramsla." He pointed to an elderly man seated in the front row.

  Von Ramsla stared back at him, his mouth agape. The chancellor's proposal came as a complete surprise to the man. He'd played no part in the dealings with Bavaria, of course. Johann Wilhelm was a political theorist, full to the brim with axiomatic principles-hardly the sort of man you wanted to use for such gray purposes. However, he'd be splendid as the new prime minister. The combination of his age-he was in his mid-sixties-and his ineffectual temperament would make him a pliant tool for the eventual destruction of his own office.

  There was silence in the room for a few seconds. Then, a few more seconds in which the room was filled with quiet hubbub, as people hastily consulted with each other in whispers. Then, not more than ten seconds after the Swedish chancellor stopped speaking, a man toward the back of the huge chamber climbed onto his chair and shouted:

  "Hurrah for the new prime minister! I vote for Johann Wilhelm!"

  That was Johann Schweikhard, Freiherr von Sickingen. As a nobleman, he had no business casting a vote for the leader of the Crown Loyalists in the House of Commons, but no one in that chamber cared very much about such legal niceties any more. At least a third of the crowd were also noblemen, after all.

  Not more than two seconds later, a roar of approval erupted. If not from the entire crowd, certainly from its majority.

  Given that he was ignoring all rules anyway, Oxenstierna decided he could safely accept that roar as a vote of approval by acclamation. He stepped down onto the floor of the assembly hall, took Johann Wilhelm by the arm, and hauled him onto the dais. Von Ramsla put up no resistance, even if he was not exactly active in his so-very-rapid rise to power.

  Oxenstierna saw no point in giving the old man the speaker's podium, however. Von Ramsla was a fig leaf, and the sooner he learned that fig leaves were mute, the better.

  "And now, my friends, let us move on to the purpose of this assembly. The first order of business is to adopt our new Charter of Rights and Duties." He swept the crowd with his forefinger. "You've all had time to read the Charter, by now, so I will move to a vote by acclamation of each point in order."

  He paused just long enough to allow everyone to take their copy of the charter in hand, if they didn't have it in hand already.

  "Point One. The capital and seat of government of the United States of Europe is henceforth to be located in Berlin."

  Huge roar of approval.

  "Point Two. For purposes of determining citizenship-"

  Colonel Erik Haakansson Hand found out about Wilhelm Wettin's arrest at the same time everyone else did, from Oxenstierna's announcement at the assembly. (The "convention," they were calling it-and never mind that the event was more in the nature of a staged political rally than anything you could reasonably call a deliberative undertaking.) He wasn't quite as surprised as most people present, because the tensions between the USE prime minister and the Swedish chancellor had become quite obvious to him. Still; Erik certainly hadn't expected the development.

  Why? he wondered. Oxenstierna's terse explanation didn't make a lot of sense to him. "Plotting with seditious elements." Which elements, and what was the nature of the plot?

  A thought suddenly occurred to him. He left the assembly hall and made his way hurriedly to the nearest of the city's gates. Fortunately, the sky was clear and there was still at least an hour of daylight left.

  Nothing. The guards said no one of any significance had left the city within the past few days.

  He then made his way to the southwestern gate, the Leipziger Thor.

  Again, nothing. And the same at Copenicker Thor.

  By now, evening had come. He was about to give up the project but decided to make one last effort at the southeastern gate, the Stralower Thor.

  Finally, success. A result, at least. Whether it was significant or not was still to be determined.

  "Yesterday, around this time," the guard said, nodding firmly. "I remember them because they were unpleasant. Both of them."

  "Hard to pick between the two," chimed in one of the other guards. "Baron Shithead and Ritter Asshole."

  Erik chuckled. "I know the type. But do you remember their actual names?"

  "It'll be in the record book," said a third soldier, standing in the entrance to the guardhouse. "I'll go check."

  He was back with the names in short order. Hand knew both of the men, although not particularly well. One of them was a baron,
in point of fact, a Freiherr from the Province of the Main. His companion was not a nobleman at all, on the other hand. He was a guildmaster and one of the leaders of the Crown Loyalist party in Frankfurt.

  The Freiherr had certainly not been close to Wettin. He'd been one of the prime minister's more vociferous critics, in fact. Erik didn't know about the guildmaster, but what he did know was that the Crown Loyalists of Frankfort were a particularly crusty bunch. That was probably a reaction to the city's very influential and prominent Committee of Correspondence.

  The point being that neither man was likely to have feared repercussions if Wettin was arrested-and they'd left the city a day earlier, in any event.

  Was there any connection between these two men and the prime minister's fall from power? Or was their departure simply a coincidence?

  But if it was a coincidence, why did they leave Berlin now-literally, on the eve of their triumph? Hand would double-check with his many contacts and agents, but he was almost certain that both men had been members of the faction which had been most critical of Wettin.

  Slowly, thinking as he walked, the colonel made his way back to the palace. While serving with Duke Ernst in the Oberpfalz, Erik had come to know an American officer named Jake Ebeling. The two had become something in the way of friends. When Ebeling learned that Hand could read English, he lent him a copy of what he said was one of his three favorite books. Alice in Wonderland, by a certain Lewis Carroll.

  Colonel Hand had found the book quite charming and remembered a bit of it.

  "Curiouser and curiouser," he murmured. "Curiouser and curiouser."

  Chapter 20

  Magdeburg "And here comes the only concession," Rebecca continued, reading from the sheet in her hand. "It is in the last two items, on matters of religion. 'Point Eight. All provinces shall be required to designate a single established church, with the exception of the State of Thuringia-Franconia, which may designate several."

  "All of them province-wide?" interjected Constantin Ableidinger. "Or must each provincial district choose a single church?"

  He held up a stiff, admonishing forefinger. "I warn you! We Lutherans will not tolerate sloppiness in such matters!"

  Rebecca bestowed the smile upon him that she always bestowed on Ableidinger's antics. The one that exuded long-suffering patience rather than serenity.

  "Stop clowning around, Constantin," grumbled Gunther Achterhof. "What difference does it make? We're not going to abide by it anyway."

  The little exchange had given Rebecca time for further thought, during the course of which she realized that Ableidinger's heavy-handed humor might actually contain a serious kernel-whether he realized it or not, which he probably didn't.

  "Maybe we will, Gunther," she said. She raised her own forefinger in response to the look of outrage on his face. The gesture in this case was one that indicated a desire for forbearance rather than admonishment. "But let us not get ahead of ourselves. There is still one more provision in Point Eight and a final Point Nine in the Charter of Rights and Duties."

  The pitch of her voice shifted back to a slight singsong as she resumed quoting from the sheet. "The remaining provision in Point Eight is that: 'These churches shall receive financial support from their respective provinces.' Finally: 'Point Nine. No church, whether established or not, shall be forbidden to exist, provided that it abides by the laws of the nation and its province."

  She laid down the sheet. "As I said, a concession of sorts, at the very end."

  "Not much of one," observed Helene Gundelfinger. "All it recognizes is the abstract right of non-established churches to 'exist.' That's a rather metaphysical proposition, taken by itself. The way that provision is couched, it seems to me, a province could recognize a church's 'existence' while simultaneously forbidding its members to meet, to collect funds, or to have church leaders."

  She turned toward Werner von Dalberg, who was seated far enough down the long table to her right that she had to lean forward a little to see him. "Am I right, Werner?"

  The FoJP leader from the Oberpfalz was the one person in the group who had extensive legal training.

  He grinned. "Metaphysics has nothing on the law. That issue could be contested in the courts for years. In the event-the not-improbable event, actually-that a church so victimized should employ me as their lawyer, I would argue that the term 'to exist' implies all those things that were simultaneously banned, and hence the ban is null and void." His eyes got a slightly-unfocussed, distant look. "Interesting question, actually. I'm sure the judges would rule in my favor when it came to being able to collect funds. Without money on which to operate, any and all human institutions are vacant abstractions. And for much the same reason, I'm pretty sure they'd rule in my favor when it came to the right to meet. The designation of officers of the church, however-by whatever method-is considerably more-"

  "Werner!" Rebecca interrupted him. "We can come back to this at a later time. We have more pressing issues to deal with."

  He gave her a rueful, apologetic smile. "Sorry. I got a bit carried away. Lawyers, you know. Philosophers flee at our approach."

  Rebecca gave the sheet on the table in front of her a last, considering look. "Actually, my objection was not to your lawyering but to the specific subject, which for the moment is somewhat trivial. Taken as a whole, I think the right strategy for us in response to this attack from Berlin is precisely 'to lawyer.' "

  Predictably, Gunther Achterhof's face darkened. "Rebecca, if you think for a minute that we're going to tolerate-"

  "Let. Her. Finish," said Helene.

  "Yes, please," added Magdeburg province's governor, Matthias Strigel. "Rebecca, go on."

  "They have made several bad errors, in my opinion. Within the great error of their purpose itself, I should say. The first and the worst was arresting Wilhelm Wettin. The second, and almost as bad, was to convene in Berlin. The two mistakes together make everything they've done legally invalid."

  "What difference does it make?" demanded Achterhof. "They're not going to abide by the law, and neither are we. We're now in a state of civil war! The laws of the land are no longer binding on anyone."

  "He's got a point, Rebecca," said Albert Bugenhagen. The mayor of Hamburg was sitting at the middle of the table almost directly opposite Helene. His fingers were steepled in front of his face, which, combined with his even tone of voice, made the statement one of judicial observation rather than actual agreement with the substance of Achterhof's argument.

  "Yes-but it is much too broad." She leaned forward slightly, to give added emphasis to her next words. "What is a 'civil war' in the first place? Gunther uses the term as if it were a depiction of a concrete object, like a tree or a table. Something simple and discrete. But the phenomenon is actually very complex, and with no clear boundaries. There are civil wars and there are civil wars, no two of which are exactly the same and any one of which has its own peculiar characteristics."

  By now, either Achterhof or Ableidinger would have started interrupting, had anyone else been talking. But even they had learned that Rebecca's trains of thoughts were worth following.

  "When it comes to this civil war, I would qualify the term with several addenda. As follows." She began counting off her fingers. "First, it is a civil war triggered off not by the collapse of final authority but by its mere absence-an absence, furthermore, which may well prove temporary."

  Constantin was frowning. "What does that mean?"

  Von Dalberg spoke up. "What she means is that the crisis was precipitated by Gustav Adolf's injury. As opposed, for instance, to one or another side in the conflict rejecting the emperor's authority in itself. What happens, then, if he recovers?"

  Rebecca nodded. "Yes, precisely. This is a critical issue because it drives the pace of Oxenstierna's actions and maneuvers. If Gustav Adolf recovers before he completes his project, it is likely the project will be discontinued. So the chancellor has no choice but to force the process, risking blunders for the
sake of celerity."

  She counted off another finger. "Secondly, it is a civil war clouded by great uncertainty when it comes to the issue of the succession. Or rather, the issue of a regency. The succession itself is clear-Princess Kristina, the emperor's only child-but she is still a minor and thus cannot take the throne herself. And the USE is not Sweden, which has clear and established rules governing the establishment of a regency. So, as with the state of Gustav Adolf's own condition, everything is murky-which, again, forces Oxenstierna to drive forward with great haste.

  "Thirdly, by convening in Berlin instead of Magdeburg, Oxenstierna and his reactionary plotters have denied themselves the possibility of a quorum. The constitution is quite clear on this point-a majority of the members of Parliament must be present or there is no quorum and Parliament cannot legitimately conduct any business."

  "But…" Liesel Hahn, an MP from Hesse-Kassel, was frowning. "But they have a majority, Rebecca."

  "Ha!" Constantin Ableidinger slapped the table. "Rebecca is right!"

  "Yes, she is," agreed von Dalberg. He looked toward Hahn. "The fact that they have a majority doesn't matter, Liesel, unless they can get a majority actually present at the session of Parliament."

  Hahn's frown cleared away. "Oh, of course. Silly of me. But perhaps…"

  Rebecca was shaking her head. "There is no chance at all that they had a quorum in Berlin. Their majority is a slim one to begin with-fifty-two percent. No member of our party was present, of course, and probably no more than a third of the people belonging to the small parties. That means the Crown Loyalists would have had to get almost every single one of their MPs to attend the session."

  "Ha!" Ableidinger boomed again. "In Berlin? In winter? Not a chance!"

  "It wouldn't be hard to prove, either," said Strigel. "In fact, I'd be willing to bet they didn't even take a roll call."

  "And it gets still worse," said Rebecca. She counted off her pinkie. "Fourthly, when they arrested Wilhelm Wettin they also removed any legitimacy to the executive branch of the government as well."