of time there. Then, to everyone’s surprise starting with her closest advisers and top officials, she made her way to the rally and politely asked the organizers to give her the platform.
They were just as surprised as anyone, but naturally they agreed at once.
Her speech was short and consisted simply of reading the message that she’d had transmitted an hour before to the entire nation. Leaving aside the flowery preface, the gist of it was simple:
General Stearns was quite correct. Chancellor Oxenstierna’s actions were completely illegal. The legitimate prime minister, Wilhelm Wettin, should be released from prison and returned to office.
The applause went on and on and on. Liesel Hahn, who was on the platform herself, was simultaneously delighted and downcast. Delighted, because she thought Amalie Elisabeth’s actions were entirely correct. Downcast, because the prospects for the Fourth of July Party itself in Hesse-Kassel would remain dim for some time.
Probably for the lifespan of the landgravine, in fact.
Kristina would always hold a bit of a grudge against Ulrik for keeping her from the rally. But not much of one. The truth was, he’d probably threaded the needle as well as anyone could. People in Magdeburg simply remembered her in the kitchens of the Freedom Arches that day. Within a few months, if they’d been asked, most of them would swear that Kristina had given a speech at the rally. A good one, too, allowing for her age.
Mostly, the little grudge was because she’d burned her finger on a skillet. Somehow that was Ulrik’s fault.
He put up only a token protest, figuring that it was worth the price to exchange what might become a big political grudge for a petty personal one. Once again showing great skill at threading needles.
The only major cities in the USE which did not celebrate on February 27 were Dresden and Berlin.
Dresden did not celebrate because the city was mostly just relieved to have been spared what might have been a truly hideous fate—and had immediately pressing problems to deal with. First, thousands of wounded men to treat. Second—a much thornier problem—thousands of surrendered soldiers to deal with.
Goerg Kresse and his Vogtlanders were inclined toward a simple solution: kill them all. But Mike Stearns refused and made it quite clear he wasn’t going to tolerate any impromptu lynchings either.
That still left the problem of what to do with them. In the end, Mike opted for the traditional solution. He offered those willing to volunteer a place in the ranks of the Third Division. The ones who refused would be placed in hard labor clearing away the rubble that weeks of siege had left in Dresden.
About two-thirds of the captured soldiers volunteered. That meant Mike now had the problem of absorbing more than four thousand new men into his regiments.
That task would have been extraordinarily difficult except that the regiments accepted the challenge with confidence and even good humor. Perhaps ironically, they were the one large group of men in the Germanies who weren’t nursing a grudge against all things Swede.
Why should they be? They’d just thrashed the Swedes senseless. As they’d known they would.
If you looked at it the right way, the willingness of Banér’s mercenaries to switch allegiances was simply a reaffirmation of the Third Division’s august status. Even dumb Swedes knew which end was up. (And never mind that there were only two hundred and eighty-six actual Swedes among the new volunteers, and seventy-three Finns.)
Berlin did not celebrate because Chancellor Oxenstierna had twenty thousand troops in or near the city on the Swedish payroll, and was in a fury.
A cold fury, to make things worse. He was now in a desperate situation, he knew it—and he knew he only had one option left. Sheer, stark violence.
Chapter 51
Dresden, capital of Saxony
Before dawn of the morning after the battle, the two young hostlers had the draft horses out of the stable and hooked up to the first of the plows. After paying them the first installment owed, Denise and Minnie headed out of the city. Others could celebrate the victory, tend to wounded, fuss over prisoners—but they had important work to do. By sunrise they were on the airfield and started to clear away the trash and debris.
It was slow going. The plow worked fine, but neither Denise nor Minnie had any real experience at this sort of work. Both of them were good horsewomen, but that wasn’t the same skill set as that required here.
Within an hour, despite the cold, they were both sweating—and hadn’t