The first three of them got shot dead, too, but they were killed almost instantly.
The rest surrendered. One of them, it seemed, had piled up a few too many grudges over the years. The militia company just plain refused to accept his surrender and shot him about half a dozen times. The others got off with nothing worse than a fair-to-middling beating with gun butts before they were marched down to the city's jail. Well, what passed for a jail. Back up-time, the SPCA would have screamed bloody murder if you'd stuffed rats in that hole.
After checking around later-Henry Dreeson had a really good eye for these things and so did Sandrart, oddly enough-Nathan concluded that the experience of his militia company was about standard. Middle of the road experience, anyway. Some company had a tougher fight, but some didn't run into any opposition at all. Their targets just ran off.
"Maybe we ought to hold off on the popular revolution for a little while," the chief theorist of the Frankfurt CoC said the next day. "Pay a little more attention to some of the stuff that Spartacus is publishing. Maybe we can work out a modus vivendi with the council. After all, if Gretchen Richter's own grandmother marched with members of the city council… not against them."
The others nodded, including the chairman.
There was no way for them know why Veronica had marched. Or that Gretchen hadn't known anything about the plan, much less approved her grandmother's participation in the activity.
It was impressive, Soubise wrote to his brother. I have been, to some extent, surprised by the effectiveness of the Grantville mayor during this political tour. It was, after all, no more than a provincial town before the Ring of Fire. Not even a provincial capital. Nonetheless, he, in cooperation with Constantin Ableidinger, has proven to be effective in encouraging the successful integration of the former Franconian territories into the SoTF.
His wife, of course…
After that paragraph, he stopped to think again.
De Ron has not managed to gather any additional information in regard to what Locquifier may be planning. I still have hopes that continued observation of the men staying at the inn Zum Weissen Schwan will provide us with information as to where Ducos has gone to ground.
Dear Ruben, Nathan Prickett wrote to Blumroder in Suhl.
I expect you'll already have heard about all the excitement last night before this letter gets to you, so I'll stick to what's important. The new guns that the firm provided to the militia performed really well. I was real pleased with the results. Even though it was damp and toward the end of the evening it started to drizzle, there were hardly any misfires.
Two of the militia lieutenants lost their jobs over it, but since we've been working through the city council and the captain, that shouldn't affect sales.
He figured that it wasn't worth wasting postage on a letter to Don Francisco. He was bound to hear all about it from a lot of other people. But someone else was sure going to expect a personal report from Johnny-on-the spot. He picked up another piece of paper.
Dear Chandra.
Erfurt
Simon Jones spread the various newspapers out on the table, sorting them by date. "I've got to say," he commented, "that it seems to have played really well in Copenhagen."
It certainly had.
Any reporter worth his wages could see the drama of a Danish woman, a Danish commoner, showing the way to the patricians of an imperial city; more, showing the way to the up-timers; to the officials of the United States of Europe, even. Jason Waters was worth his wages, and more.
Headlines, and then more headlines.
It didn't quite salve the pride of Denmark for having been forced into a second Union of Kalmar. But it sure helped.
Christian IV would present a medal to Dagmar Nilsdotter, wife of Sergeant Helmuth Hartke of the State of Thuringia-Franconia's own Fulda Barracks Regiment.
More headlines.
The same regiment that had, a short while before, heroically rescued Wesley Jenkins, the State of Thuringia-Franconia's civilian administrator of Buchenland, and his wife, his down-timer wife, from durance vile. (No need to mention that the jailers had already fled, leaving them nothing to do but unlock the door. Picayune details remained picayune details).
Even more headlines.
Christian IV would award the medal as soon as Dagmar could travel to Copenhagen, that was. She was expecting a baby in November.
The heroine was not a virago, not a masculinized Amazon, but an honest Lutheran wife and mother.
Gustavus Adolphus, not to be outdone or upstaged, would award a medal as soon as Dagmar Nilsdotter could travel to Magdeburg.
Christian IV announced that he would travel to Barracktown bei Fulda and present the medal in person as soon as the mother-to-be had recovered from the travails of childbirth.
Gustavus Adolphus, very busy but always alert to a good PR opportunity, announced that Princess Kristina would travel to Barracktown bei Fulda and present the medal in person.
Christian IV announced that he and his future daughter-in-law would fly to Fulda together and present the medals simultaneously.
Derek Utt and Wes Jenkins, after contemplating the topography of the immediate region, sent off a brief radio message that said, in essence, "not unless they intend to parachute out of the damned plane, they won't." To the distress of the politicians, the pilots agreed with their assessment.
Erfurt, then. Christian IV and Kristina would fly to Erfurt and proceed the rest of the way in a motorized vehicle.
That was where things stood at the moment the latest of the papers had gone to press. The reporter's breathless prose ended with: "Stand by for further announcements."
Ron Stone nodded his head. "Ain't radio communication grand?"
Chapter 17
Frankfurt am Main
Guillaume Locquifier pinched the candle out and lay on his pallet, thinking.
They should have taken out the Stone brothers when they had the chance. Lackeys or not. Everything that had gone wrong in Rome had been the fault of those… He couldn't think of a suitable epithet. The sons of Tom Stone were in a category beyond epithets, whatever Michel said regarding their insignificance.
The woman Veronica. The security surrounding her in Frankfurt had not been tight, except during the march itself. That had only been an artifact of the security surrounding the important civic officials.
In one way, though, Antoine was perfectly correct. She was only important because of her relatives. There was no reason on earth for Richelieu to order her assassination. No reason for anyone to order her assassination.
Except, perhaps, her own family. If the reports that Gui and Fortunat had given about her general temperament, as they had observed it on the barge from Mainz to Frankfurt, were correct, then it would seem quite possible that almost any near relative might wish to see the end of her. But that would be personal, not political.
Symbolism. Antoine wanted symbolism. When Antoine wanted it, Michel ordered it.
Richelieu, once, had sent the Croats against Grantville.
An assassination in Grantville itself? Everyone would blame that on Richelieu at once. Which would be… very satisfactory.
Symbolism.
Piazza perhaps? He was their president. The same office that Stearns had previously held, which would be a clear symbolic link.
Or a down-timer? Ableidinger when he was in Grantville. He came, occasionally, to consult with Piazza.
Or…
He fell asleep.
"It is clear to me now."
The other four men looked at Locquifier.
"It came to me in a dream a few days ago. The riot against the Jews. The riot here in Frankfurt that did not happen. That is something we can do."