"But…" said Fredrik Hendrik.
Mike shrugged. "Look, folks. Everybody including Christian IV understands that this is mostly a face-saving measure, and that if he were to try to use his official power against any real military interest of Gustav Adolf, there'd be all hell to pay. But Christian could certainly argue that this was no military matter at all, simply one monarch doing a favor for another in a purely personal matter.
Rebecca, normally quite imperturbable, practically spluttered. "Purely 'personal' matter! We are talking about the formation of a new European dynasty, Michael!"
"Sure. So what? All that matters is that Christian would have a formal excuse-and both he and Gustav Adolf would know perfectly well that what's really involved is an arm-wrestling match to see exactly where the power of Denmark ends and the power of the Union of Kalmar begins."
Rebecca sat back in her chair, her expression clearing. "Oh. I see."
A moment later, Fredrik Hendrik leaned back also, adding a little laugh into the bargain. "Michael, you are wasted on a republic. Machiavelli himself would say you are the perfect model of his prince."
Mike gave him a grin. "Oh, that's silly. I think republics provide much more of an interesting challenge, when it comes to political skullduggery." In a more serious tone, he added: "The point is, Gustav Adolf is no dumber than Christian IV. So I think he'll agree right off, if for no other reason than just to avoid the arm-wrestling match with the Danes."
After a moment, with his best butter-wouldn't-melt-my-his-mouth expression, Mike added: "Especially once I point out the danger to him."
The answer from Copenhagen came almost as instantly as Mike predicted.
Do it, said the message from Gustav Adolf. Use Colonel Wood himself.
The Spanish siege lines, outside Amsterdam
The negotiations involved a great deal of risk assessment. Not just the obvious risk that the plane might fall out of the air. Neither Don Fernando nor his advisers really minded that. He would not be in more danger of falling out of the air than he would be of dying in a military action on the ground. Those things were in the hands of God.
No. There were other risks. They had to negotiate the plane's point of departure and where it would arrive. Nobody mentioned the Saint Bartholomew's day massacre out loud, but it was certainly at the back of almost everyone's mind. That, too, had involved a treaty, a wedding, Catholics and Calvinists. There were still those who called for revenge, a half-century later. Might the Dutch use this device to entice Don Fernando into their clutches? If he landed in the midst of General Horn's army, which would be necessary, would the Swede's men allow him to leave again? Would they wait until he rescued Maria Anna from Basel and then hold them both? Don Fernando's diplomats were nervous.
Except for Cardinal Bedmar. Since he realized, with some resignation, that his master was going to get into an airplane and fly off in the company of one of Gustav Adolf's pilots, he concentrated on making it happen. At least, the "Gustav" plane that the up-timers suggested could carry four persons, rather than only two. The pilot said that on the trip out, Don Fernando could be accompanied by two aides. Bodyguards, if one wanted to think of them that way, as long as they were fairly small ones. Bedmar was sitting in his chair studying a "cheat sheet" on cargo capacity.
Somebody started talking about a chaperone for the archduchess. Rebecca sighed, remembering that the men around Don Fernando were, after all, mostly from Spain rather than Holland or Germany, where women had so much more freedom of movement.
"You could," Mike said to Don Fernando, "rescue Mary Simpson and Veronica Dreeson at the same time. Since you're going to be in the neighborhood, so to speak. Mary Simpson could fly back with Maria Anna as duenna, since the you seem to think it is necessary. She will be wanting to rejoin her husband, in any case, and he is working up at Harlingen, now. Not to mention, of course, that she is probably aching to visit the Netherlands and recruit a few artists. Vacuum up as many as she can, and at least meet the others, even if they don't agree to move to Magdeburg. She would give her eyeteeth to talk to Rembrandt, for example. Horn could arrange to get Ronnie back to Grantville."
Bedmar pursed his lips. Don Fernando had not cared for the aspect of the treaty that led to Simpson's presence in Harlingen. He was building a naval base there that would, in effect, allow the USE Navy to close off the Zuider Zee in the event of a renewal of hostilities. Gustav Adolf, of course, was in possession of the town-along with all three of the northernmost Dutch provinces, Friesland, Groningen, and Drenthe, as a result of his successful summer offensive. Possession was one thing. Legal acknowledgment of that possession in a treaty was something else. Don Fernando had not had to give up anything he held; indeed, not anything that he had ever held. Looked at one way, the treaty had simply formalized the situation-and the USE had actually returned most of the lands as a compensation. All they insisted on retaining was the town of Harlingen itself. But it always hurt a Habsburg to give up a land claim. Any land claim.
"I would like to remind you…"
Bedmar looked up from his "cheat sheet." That was the pilot speaking, Colonel Wood. He had been at Harlingen and had come down to Amsterdam in a truck. Bedmar had enjoyed inspecting the truck; it was not quite like the one that had brought his sister from Amberg to Brussels, but very interesting.
"I would like to remind you that the carrying capacity is limited. We have agreed to your stipulation that His Majesty be accompanied by two military aides on the flight to Basel. However, if I have the archduchess and Mrs. Simpson in the plane on the return flight, that means that the aides will have to remain with General Horn and make their own way back to the Netherlands by more traditional means."
More technicalities followed.
"The landing field is easy," Colonel Wood said. "We can use the same one just outside the city that you built a few months ago, that I used to fly in our prime minister. We'll convoy the fuel in from Harlingen; there's a stockpile there now. Refuel at Mainz, both ways. The field there is reliable. And have somebody prepare a field at the other end. Which means on the German side of the border. I have a feeling that the city of Basel isn't going to lay out a landing strip for me. The land on that side of the river is pretty hilly, anyway."
Mike looked at Rebecca.
"I am sure," she said, "that Gustav Adolf will be willing to direct General Horn to move into place and prepare a landing field. Do you have a preference as to location, Colonel Wood?"
"He'll find a suitable spot somewhere near Rheinfelden. I'll give him the coordinates."
"How do you know?" Don Fernando asked.
"There was a huge air force base at Rheinfelden, up-time. I flew in and out of it more than once."
Swabia
"It is a direct order, General."
Gustav Horn looked at the message with distaste. "I know. Is Gustav Adolf aware that if I move my forces to Rheinfelden, I will be confronting Bernhard directly? Something that I have worked very hard to avoid?"
"He must be of the opinion that in this case, the gain is worth the risk."