1634 The Baltic War

by Eric Flint

Night after night, after completing his duties to the duke and in the privy council, he went through Loyola's Spiritual Exercises. Had the formal oaths taken his conscience captive? Were they leading it in chains, as if it were loot captured in a military campaign, paraded under a triumphal arch by a conquering Roman emperor? He prayed.

  * * * *

  Amberg, Upper Palatinate

  Duke Ernst ordered that Doña Mencia be transferred out of the Jesuit collegium in the dark of night. The order was accompanied by the direst of threats about what would happen to anyone who leaked the slightest bit of information about how she came to be in Amberg at all. His most sincere hope was to have her make a public reappearance in Grantville as if miraculously translated there by divine intervention. Plus, of course, a diesel truck. Certainly without any rumors that someone, anyone, of interest to the wider political world might have been or ever be in Amberg.

  Which was why his secretary Böcler and his publicity agent Zincgref found themselves walking along the cobblestones of Amberg at four o'clock one morning, carrying a litter with a recumbent form on it. Dressed as gravediggers; the recumbent form covered with a shroud. The truck would have attracted far too much attention if it had been brought into the town. Not to mention that it was too large to pass through any of the gates.

  By the time they reached the truck, it was starting to get light. Doña Mencia found it fascinating. She was particularly enchanted by the amenities provided in the rear portion. Of those, the "recliner" that had been firmly fastened to the floor was, by far, the finest. She had never envisioned such a thing. She stroked the leather. The teamster who had brought the truck said that the chair had been loaned, just for her, by Grantville's mayor, to whom it belonged. She had heard of the city's wealth; she revised her estimate of it upward.

  It even had straps that were somehow mounted beneath the floor and fastened across the chair, so that if bad roads caused the truck to ride unevenly, she would not be thrown out. If she were younger, she would have liked to look underneath to see how the device was made. At her age, however, she would simply accept that some ingenious mechanic or engineer had created it. All through her life, such men had been demonstrating new marvels.

  She had been prepared for a torturous trip across the Germanies, from the Upper Palatinate to join her brother Cardinal Bedmar in the Spanish Netherlands. Now, at least from Amberg to Grantville, she would ride more comfortably than if she were in the most luxurious bed ever made. All a gift of the king of Sweden.

  With company, although the others would not ride so easily. The remainder of the chairs placed in the "bed" of the truck were much more Spartan. There would be several of Duke Ernst's young soldiers, going to be trained to operate the "radio" of which the regent was so proud. Herr Pilcher would also be traveling to Grantville in this truck. As soon as she was safely inside, the "recliner" screened from view, Pilcher would bring the iron men with whom he had signed contracts to view the truck. Duke Ernst believed that this would impress them all with Pilcher's importance, that Grantville would send such a grand vehicle to return him home, and make them less likely to renege upon their agreements. Not to mention providing an answer to curious questions about why the truck had come to Amberg.

  So he would travel with her, as would two coffins. That was the other announced reason for the presence of the truck outside Amberg's walls. After some negotiation, Pilcher had arranged for the bodies of a young up-time soldier and a tinsmith who had served as his own translator to be disinterred and embalmed as expensively as if they were the bodies of fallen kings being returned to their native countries from a crusade in the Holy Land. They would be returned to Grantville for burial.

  Doña Mencia did not mind sharing the truck with them. The coffins were sealed and death was a part of life.

  * * * *

  Banér's siege lines outside Ingolstadt, Upper Palatinate

  Johan Banér, his full portliness completely unabated by the effort of personally managing the siege of Ingolstadt for three months, arose from his chair. Immediately following Doña Mencia's departure, Duke Ernst and Eric Haakansson Hand had left Amberg. Immediately as in, their horses had been saddled and waiting when the truck drove off down the Goldene Strasse toward Nürnberg.

  "What," he asked, "in the name of every demon in the lowest depths of the inferno, is going on?"

  "Madness," Duke Ernst answered. "Madness that we must, I think, take advantage of. If we possibly can, we should avoid extending the siege into the winter. This is the time to launch a final assault."

  "Just how, and with what?" Banér's frustration was plain in his voice. "I do not have any more resources this week than I did last week."

  "They're coming," Hand said. "Five regiments from Torstensson's army of the Baltic."

  "CoC troublemakers!" Banér sneered.

  The emperor's cousin shrugged. "Perhaps so. But I will point out they did very well for themselves at Ahrensbök. Two are already in Nürnberg and are re-supplying. Three more have reached Bamberg and are marching fast."

  "The other issue, General, is 'from where?'" Duke Ernst answered. "A siege from the north bank has not succeeded; all the boats we put on the river have not been able to prevent resupply of the garrison. Which you yourself have reported to me often enough. You are dealing with The Bridge That Will Not Die. Mosquitoes, those little boats; skipping through the channels and around the islands in the river like flocks of gnats in a swamp."

  "I know. You don't need to tell me. What do you expect me to do about it?"

  "With the disappearance of the archduchess, with Duke Albrecht's flight, with Duke Maximilian's purge of his best advisors...." Duke Ernst paused. "I believe that we should invest Ingolstadt from the south, as well. Cross the river; cut off the supplies. In addition to—"

  "In addition to what?" Banér was abrupt.

  "The USE military administrator in Franconia, Colonel Blackwell, tells me that he is having increasing difficulty in persuading the commander of the mercenary forces that the emperor sent to him in hopes of managing the Ram Rebellion more effectively to restrain his desire to kill people. According to Colonel Blackwell, the commander has little interest in limiting what the up-timers call collateral damage. He does not wish to worry about civilians. Rather his view of these things is 'bomb them all to bits, kids in the town, we don't worry about no stinkin' kids, let God sort out the pieces.'"

  "I," Banér responded, "can see the commander's point of view. Especially when it is a matter of winning or not winning."

  "Ah," Duke Ernst said. "I thought as much. In Franconia, however, the administration seems to be of the opinion that it is not trying to win a war, but to establish a peace. So I have suggested that, since the peasant revolt seems to have dwindled to a faint shadow of what it was in the early summer, that Colonel Blackwell send the commander and his restless mercenaries on to you, who will be delighted to give them an opportunity to shoot at Bavarian soldiers, since they seem so anxious to shoot at someone."

  "They may," Banér reminded his superior, "be a lot less anxious to shoot at well-trained Bavarian soldiers. Those tend to be heavily armed and shoot back."

  "You can't have everything. You can have two more regiments from Franconia, in addition to the regiments from the Baltic. If, and that is a definite condition, if you are willing to control their depredations against the civilians on this side of the river and if, that is also a definite condition, if you are willing to cross to the south bank."

  Hand smiled coldly. "Keep in mind, General Banér, that if you don't control those Franconian soldiers, the CoC regiments from the Baltic are very likely to do it for you. They have not much patience with undisciplined mercenary forces. None, at all, I should say."

  Banér stared at Hand, his eyes practically bulging. Clearly, the notion that some units—supposedly under his command—would cheerfully attack other units—also supposedly under his command—was a concept he was... grappling with.

  Duke Ernst cleared h
is throat. "Colonel Blackwell tells me that the Franconian troops are ready to march. We can have the first of those units here in one week, about the same time as the first of the Baltic regiments; the second, which has been scattered into garrisons in northern Franconia, in two."

  "If Franconia erupts again the instant that the regiments are gone, will they call them back?"

  "It isn't their plan. They intend, I believe, to rely as much as possible on the assistance of Margrave Christian of Bayreuth in that case."

  "Stinking ordure of wilting violets!"

  "I am aware," Duke Ernst remarked, "that you consider the margrave's allegiance to Gustav Adolf to be somewhat wavering; that you find his commitment to be less than complete. Nonetheless. Do you want two more regiments and will you cross the river?"

  "Yes. And yes. What is the actual strength of the regiments? Both the CoCs and the mercenaries?"

  "The Franconians won't be much better than at half-strength. As usual with mercenaries. The Baltic units, on the other hand, are a lot closer to paper strength than we have come to expect," Hand answered. "Plus, one of those regiments is an artillery unit, which apparently distinguished itself at Ahrensbök. What they are calling, sometimes 'light artillery' and sometimes 'heavy weapons.' With the five regiments from the king and the two from Blackwell—let us say at least another eight thousand effectives. Possibly as many as ten thousand, if they are spared from disease on the march."

  "Logistics, then," Duke Ernst said. "How many additional boats will you need?"

  Banér smiled. "I have no intention of trying to cross by boat, Your Grace. We will cross at Neuburg first. On the bridge that is there, to occupy, garrison, and fortify that city. Then, the next day, on the bridges that will be there."

  "Bridges that will be there?"

  "The young civil engineer from Grantville, Ellis his name is, has taught mine a few tricks. We can build temporary bridges, of course. We do pontoon bridges fairly often. But it takes time. It is something that we can't prevent the enemy's spies from finding out. It gives them time to prepare. This young man, with his telescope and calipers, his droplines with sinkers, his 'soundings,' all very tedious when he explains it, has introduced us to the concept of 'prefab.'"

  Banér smiled. "We have three more bridges, Your Grace. On sledges, here in the camp. I am assured that once we gather enough draft animals to move them upstream, toward Neuburg, each can be constructed in a day; less if things go well, but the young engineer is quite superstitious, believing in something that he calls 'Murphy's Law.' We plan to build them at intervals of two and a half miles, more or less, between Neuburg and Ingolstadt. Our forces cross them in the night; the next day, parallel to the river, from Neuburg to Ingolstadt, we throw up temporary fortifications. That will give us a "secured supply line" from Neuburg to Ingolstadt. Invest Ingolstadt from the south and east; turn around and throw up a second set of earthworks against the Bavarians. We should be nearly done by the time that Maximilian realizes that we are there; certainly done by the time he can concentrate his forces against us."

  Duke Ernst smiled back. "So. My question, then, should have been, 'How many additional draft animals will you need?''

  "'Prefab,' I take it," Hand commented, "is the reason that the closer we rode to Ingolstadt, the fewer trees we saw and the more stumps. Until we came within eyesight of the city and the river bank, at which point the forests were again undisturbed?"

  "Damned right."

  "With your permission, Your Grace," Hand said, "I believe that I would like to remain with General Banér rather than returning to Amberg with you. I would like to see 'prefab' in action."

  Duke Ernst nodded. "You are taking precautions, I hope. If we can march south on one of these, then, if things do not go well, the Bavarians can march north on them, too."

  Banér laughed. "Not if the bridges act as the models do. Let me show you." The room to which he led them was full of sluices and troughs through which water was flowing; sometimes slowly and lazily, bringing debris; sometimes pumped with great force. Many of them containing model bridges.

  "Test them, Your Grace. Push down. See what load they will bear."

  Duke Ernst complied. The spindly looking bridges were astonishingly strong.

  "Now," Banér said. "Now."

  Moving to the bridge that Duke Ernst had just been testing, a young man wearing glasses reached into the trough and grasped a string; pulled it. Almost at once, the bridge became sticks, floating away down the trough, piling up against a wire barrier at the end so that they did not float away. A teen-aged boy ran to seine them out of the water.

  The young engineer smiled. "It isn't quite that easy with a full-sized bridge, Your Grace," he said. "But not much harder, either. I have advised the general to guard the ropes very carefully."

  But Duke Ernst had wandered away. On a table next to the end of the trough, the teenager was rapidly putting the bridge back together. Every piece, every interlocking miniature support and plank, was numbered.

  * * * *

  Erik Haakansson Hand leaned over and said to Banér: "There's other help coming as well. The emperor ordered the big guns taken out of that ironclad that was half-sunk outside Copenhagen and sent down here. Those ten-inchers will make the world's most ferocious siege guns, you know. They're an independent command under a certain Colonel Schmidt. A very promising and upcoming young officer, apparently. Should have the walls of Ingolstadt reduced in no time, once they get here. That'll be a while yet, of course.

  The look of anxiety on the Swedish general's face was downright amusing.

  * * * *

  Planegg, Bavaria

  Duke Maximilian walked through the empty rooms of the castle on the Hörwarth estate, followed by his secretary and the owner's steward. He had felt obliged to come. He had known Dr. Johann Georg Hörwarth von Hohenberg, the father of the present Freiherr, well. Dr. Hörwarth had died several years before, in 1626. During his lifetime, he had held many offices. He had led the joint finance committee of government and Estates which brought about the abdication of Duke Wilhelm V when the state was threatened with bankruptcy in 1597; he had been at Maximilian's side during the hard years thereafter. He had led several investigations when high officials were suspected of corruption.

  Now, however, Maximilian was beginning to wonder if, all those years, he had been misled. The warning signs had been there. Hörwarth had not only been a bureaucrat, but also a scholar, with wide-ranging interests. History and classical philology. Those were usually safe enough. Also, though, astronomy and mathematics. His Tabulae Arithmeticae were, Maximilian understood, high valued by the kind of people who valued such esoterica. Additionally, although Maximilian had chosen to ignore it at the time, Hörwarth had, for years, carried on an extensive correspondence with Johannes Kepler. He had encouraged the Holy Roman Emperor Rudolf to employ the man, had recommended his promotion. Had, although Hörwarth was Catholic and Kepler was Lutheran, in spite of the difference in faith, served as godfather to one of Kepler's daughters.

  Duke Maximilian was afraid that he had been too trusting. Hörwarth's son had provided hospitality for Landgrave Wilhelm Georg of Leuchtenberg. Albrecht and Mechthilde had been here just before they fled.

  He wandered into the magnificent library and thought wistfully of the wonderful Heidelberg library that Tilly had captured in 1622. More than eight thousand volumes belonging to the counts Palatine; it would have been a wonderful addition to the seventeen thousand or so books that the dukes of Bavaria had already collected. Briefly, in 1623, it had passed through Munich; he would have loved to keep it, part of the Wittelsbach heritage, just as the Palatinate's electoral vote was part of the Wittelsbach heritage. He had even ordered bookplates printed, enough for each of the books. His heart had been heavy when the papal nuncio had insisted that he send those magnificent manuscripts and printed books on to Rome.

  He looked around Hörwarth's library again. The man who collected it had, possibly, been sympathet
ic to heresy; his son, Freiherr Johann Franz von Hörwarth, who now owned it, could be reasonably suspected of treason.

  "Pack it up," he ordered the steward. "Send it to Munich, to the ducal library."

  Chapter 50

  Negotiationes Et Resolutiones

  Grantville

  The truck rumbled into Grantville. Someone had bent the rules about motorized vehicles; it was allowed to come directly to the presidential office. Followed, naturally, by any number of curious people who were wondering why the exception had been made.

  The ramp came down. First, the soldiers who would be trained as radio operators. Fully outfitted as soldiers, at the moment. Duke Ernst was quite thrifty; they had served as the guards on the way. Not that guards had been needed; the drive had been monumentally uneventful.

  Then Keith Pilcher, escorting an elderly woman. A down-timer. Not someone whom any of them recognized. Ed Piazza, coming out to greet her. Very respectfully. An influential down-timer, then.

  The truck pulled away, toward the funeral home lot. Cora, in the coffee shop, got on the phone. Maxine, first; then Mary Lou; then call the second St. Veronica's to notify Felser's widow.

  Annalise answered the phone.

  * * * *

  Annalise Richter, as it turned out, was just the person that Doña Mencia wanted to talk to.

  "Since I was coming in any case, you know. The Amberg Jesuits understand from Herr Hieronymus Rastetter, Frau Dreeson's lawyer, that the granddaughter holds a full power of attorney. And, of course, I should personally thank Mayor Dreeson, if possible, for the use of his chair. A true miracle of comfort. Not just the back that retreats. Not just the footrest that comes up. But, above all, the lever that lifts the seat beneath me when I must stand once more. I owe him great gratitude."

  "Henry will be delighted to hear it," Ed Piazza replied. "He likes the chair himself."

  * * * *

  "It is a settlement offer in regard to the land upon which the Amberg collegium is partly built," Doña Mencia explained. "In short, Fräulein Annalise, your grandmother wants the value of the land, they think. The land itself would do her very little good, since the former building was razed. The collegium's dining hall sits directly above where your grandfather's printing business was once located; its library on the floor above that."