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Chapter 40


Copenhagen, Denmark

July 1637


Even during his first garbled radio exchange with the attaché in Magdeburg, Christian IV grasped the potential benefits of this particular morganatic (as he assumed) marriage. Even if he had to sacrifice the traditional political potential of the marriage of one of his legitimate sons . . . one thing was immediately obvious to him. The last royal stronghold in Europe that would be toppled and ground to dust by CoC fanatics or rampaging Jacobins would be the one presided over by Gretchen Richter’s sister as an honored and valued, happy and contented, daughter-in-law. Or, to look at it a slightly different way, as he put it to the bishop of the diocese of Sjælland, “this could be a splendid thing for Us as we try to survive the current rough and tumble. I have visions of a world as described in Ezekiel 26.”

The bishop sipped his wine and nodded solemnly. “I will make with them a covenant of peace, and will cause the evil beasts to cease out of the land: and they shall dwell safely in the wilderness, and sleep in the woods.”

The king drank rather more deeply. “I will make them and the places round about my hill a blessing; and I will cause the shower to come down in his season; there shall be showers of blessing.”

It didn’t quite work out that way. When Frederik came to talk to his father—for this, he entered an airplane—he put down his one unalterable condition. Not morganatic. No way.

“It’s a house rule, after all, for each of the noble families who enforce it upon themselves,” he pointed out. “Not a divine law. Not some kind of imperial law. Which, even if it were, would not be binding on the king of Denmark as the king of Denmark, who can simply declare it gone. House of Oldenburg be damned.”

Christian looked at his son meditatively.

“Maybe you can’t push it through for our claims to Schleswig and Holstein, unless the rest of the House of Oldenburg would agree to abolish Ebenbürtigkeit as House Law as well, which the Gottorps won’t. But for Denmark, you can. Who knows? If Anton Günther could make his son his heir in Oldenburg itself, I suspect he’d come on board with us in a flash. But the Gottorps won’t.”

“For Anton Günther’s son to become his heir, it would have to be retroactive. And, as you say, the Gottorps will not sign on.”

The king stroked his beard. For various reasons that he had not mentioned to his second son (who was, after all, working for Gustav Adolf in the USE), he had been seriously irritated with the Danish high nobility for the past several years and specifically, extremely, irritated with them for the past two.

Frederik had almost certainly noticed, of course, but that was not equivalent to telling him.

Abolish Ebenbürtigkeit.

For a moment, Christian reflected ruefully, wondering if it would be possible to make it retroactive, with Anne Cathrine, Eleonore Christine, and their siblings ebenbürtig? Ruefully, no, probably not. At this point, that would introduce more complications than it was worth. Although . . . 

But he could get in another lick toward controlling the Danish nobility, subordinating them to his will, by abolishing it for them, too, within Denmark and Norway. Henceforth, their scions may go out and marry any bourgeois they please, producing children eligible to inherit. Hah! It wouldn’t liquidate them, but it would in time dilute them.

“What does the girl think?” he asked suddenly.

“I have not said anything to her. I needed to know where I stood first.”

“What precisely does that mean?”

“I might have ended up a commoner employed by the USE as the administrator of the Province of Westphalia. Or unemployed, if you had reacted otherwise and the emperor decided it would be more prudent to cut his losses and protect the Union of Kalmar by firing me. But I didn’t think that would be the case.”

“You didn’t think I would respond as I did to Anne Lykke?” Christian raised his eyebrows.

“She was nearly a decade older than Christian, a deliberate temptress, scheming to advance the interests of a specific Danish noble family. None of those considerations apply. Not to mention the practicality that Annalise resides in the USE and lives under the emperor’s direct protection.”

“I am a generous father,” Christian moaned. “Generous to a fault and foolishly indulgent of my children.” He drank the rest of his beer. “A fact of which they are all much too much aware.”

He put down the mug . . . the one mug, which he had filled once . . . stood up, and danced crookedly out into the hallway shouting, “The tree of the field shall yield her fruit, and the earth shall yield her increase, and they shall be safe in their land, and shall know that I am the Lord, when I have broken the bands of their yoke, and delivered them out of the hand of those that served themselves of them.”

Frederik smiled his usual thin smile and added decorously, “They shall no more be a prey to the heathen, neither shall the beast of the land devour them; but they shall dwell safely, and none shall make them afraid.”


Magdeburg

July 1637


Count Anton Günther of Oldenburg signed on to Christian IV’s order and proclaimed young Anton Andreas as his heir. The emperor scowled at that, even more fiercely than he had scowled at the news of the birth of a second son in Oldenburg back in December.

The dukes of Holstein-Gottorp ordered their lawyers to start preparing for an inheritance battle once the current ruler of Denmark, Norway, Schleswig, and miscellaneous islands, holder of significant properties right here in USE Holstein, was no more. Or possibly further in the future, if Christian’s eldest son did not predecease him in this world. Or even longer than that, if Ulrik and Kristina asserted claims. Still, when a lineage thought in terms of centuries, it was only prudent to be prepared to annex real estate when the opportunity opened up.

Still, it was done.

“If We are to consent to this marriage,” Gustav II Adolf said, “much less expedite it, there will be certain conditions.”

“Your Imperial Majesty.” Frederik bowed.

“Annalise will retain her USE citizenship,” the emperor said. “We can’t have the sister of Our Lady Protector of Silesia as a non-citizen, now can We?”

You perfectly well could, Frederik thought, but it’s clear that you aren’t going to. He bowed again.

“Her children will be dual citizens of the USE and Denmark,” the emperor continued. He twirled his thumbs around and around for a minute. “At least until they come of age. We don’t suppose We can prevent them from choosing then, but We’ll deal with that when we come to it, two or more decades from now, We have to presume.”

Frederik bowed yet again. “You presume correctly, Your Imperial Majesty. Unless the age of majority changes.” Sweden had declared Gustav to be of age when he was fourteen.

Gustav slammed a fist on the end table next to his chair. The lamp wobbled precariously.

“Bullshit, Frederik, stop ‘Your Imperial Majesty’-ing me,” he yelled. “Your mother was my wife’s aunt, may she rest in peace. I’ve known you since you were wearing skirts.”

* * *

“Annalise,” Iona asked. “This whole thing is taking off like it’s leaving on a jet plane. Has anybody asked you? What do you want?”

“Me?” A shadow flitted across the girl’s face for a moment. “What I want?”

Iona wondered if Ronnie and Gretchen had been as successful in sheltering her from the horrors as they thought. Whether the bland and cheerful face she showed to them and to the world was the face she thought that they wanted to see.

“I want to get married and live in peace. To have a home of my own, a family, children, in a place they can grow up happy and safe. There’s no need for me to try to change the world. That’s what I want. It’s all I’ve ever wanted.” A moment of silence. “I would like to have a son I can name after my brother Hans.”

Nobody else thought to ask her what she wanted.

* * *

“I’m grateful and thankful for your offer, Your Grace. But I see some problems.”

Everyone in the room stared at her. It wasn’t an intimate moment. “The formal proposal had witnesses coming out its wazootie,” as Mary Simpson would later write to Tom.

Annalise looked at Frederik and said with great earnestness, “I don’t think that Gretchen would want me to marry a prince. Or a duke.”

It was not possible for any of them to argue with that.

“But,” she continued, “I’m the one who would be getting married and not Gretchen, so that doesn’t count.”

Most of the people in the room breathed a sigh of relief.

“And I’m Catholic,” Annalise said.

“But you were at Quedlinburg!” Frederik almost stammered.

“Well, I am Catholic. I’ve always been Catholic. It was Grandma who decided on Quedlinburg. I was thinking more about Bamberg.”

Frederik stumbled again. “My father has, has had for as long as I remember, has had for all of his life as far as I am aware, a deep, deep, fear of Catholic intrusion into Denmark. Of Jesuits recruiting young candidates for the Lutheran clergy and perverting their faith at their schools. Of . . . ” He paused. “He is most sincere in this. Additionally, the bishop of Sjælland, our primate, I suppose you would say, is virulently anti-Catholic. As is his most likely successor, who has written and published a quite vehement defense against Romanism and the papist menace.

“It is . . . actually . . . as things stand . . . illegal for Catholics to inherit property or reside within Denmark and the royal holdings in Schleswig, and Holstein. Except for Glückstadt. My father granted freedom of religion there, when he founded it. Tax exemption, too. Both were significant considerations because he wanted to make it a major trading center to compete with Hamburg.”

“I like almost all the Lutherans I have met, but I am not,” Annalise said firmly, “going to convert for their convenience.”

Catholic ladies had not been Frederik’s problem. He had maintained that throughout his tenure as governor of the Province of Westphalia. It was now apparent that this one was his problem.

When Frederik of Denmark, duke of Holstein and governor of Westphalia, got in a mood, it turned out, problems toppled like bowling pins.

“We could have told them so,” Christian Ulrik said over bratwurst and sauerkraut at Magdeburg’s Golden Arches.

Kerstin Brahe and Erik Stenbock nodded.

Bente Luft giggled.

Joachim Lütkemann, blissfully happy in his significant promotion and recent betrothal, smiled.

Johann Rist ordered another round of beer.

The live band that had come all the way from Bremen played “Another One Bites the Dust.” Hans Ulrik stopped by their table during the break, but ordered root beer.

At the palace, the emperor retired to sleep on the problem.

“I perceive the solution.” Gustav strode around his desk the next day. “The USE has religious freedom, toleration. I can’t say that I’m generally enthusiastic about it. Still, we have it, so the easiest solution would be that you don’t take her into Denmark. Keep doing your job in Westphalia. I’ll give you a raise.”

Frederik quirked an eyebrow. “It wouldn’t be hard. So far, you haven’t paid me anything.”

“What!”

In private, Gustav howled with glee. Christian IV’s pre-Ring of Fire maneuvers to obtain Bremen and Verden, not to mention Halberstadt, for Frederik had caused his second legitimate son to grow up with an education that was more German than Danish. This marriage would tie him even more closely to the USE; tug him ever more firmly away from his father’s ambitions.

Not that he himself would want to grant Catholics the right to hold property or reside in Sweden, either. Some things were simply unreasonable.

Christian IV declared that if they were to marry at all, they would be married at Roskilde, as Lutherans, and Bishop Resen most certainly would not refuse to perform the ceremony.

Annalise thought a few thoughts about 1 Corinthians 9: Be careful, however, that the exercise of your rights does not become a stumbling block to the weak. She could compromise. After all, she had attended chapel at Quedlinburg without complaining about it. She offered that she would be willing to go through a Lutheran ceremony, but not as a Lutheran. If they could have a Catholic ceremony also.

The emperor promptly declared that in that case, they would also be married in Magdeburg by Cardinal-Protector Mazzare, who hadn’t been asked, but was unlikely to refuse. Or require a year of pre-Cana counseling in this instance.

Annalise looked at Mary Simpson. “How about Tom?” she asked. “He was Heinrich Schmidt’s friend, back in Grantville, at the beginning of everything. Gretchen is Episcopalian now; maybe that would make her a little happier. Episcopalians are practically Catholic except that they are something called wasps that no one ever exactly explained to me. Almost every up-timer I met in high school who had anything to say about religion said that. Especially the Baptist minister’s son. The clever one. He said it several times.”

Mary first gasped with laughter and then looked blank. “Tom has been off on the Eastern Front all this time,” she answered. “I’m not even sure that Laud has managed to ordain him yet. They have to go through the laying on of hands. It’s a church that does the apostolic succession thing. I can ask John. But maybe we could get it done in time for the wedding. If someone would lend an airplane.”

Someone in Denmark would be delighted to lend an airplane.

Annalise wrote a letter to Gretchen apologizing for the haste with which everything was being arranged and representing it as a noble self-sacrifice through which she could gently present the ideas of her sister’s Good Cause to people who otherwise might not hear them. Or, at least, not hear them in a favorable light.

She referred to how she had the idea of how they could get the abbess back into political life and that Frederik had helped. “Which was nice of him, you must admit.”

She hoped that Gretchen would understand.

Annalise was, if nothing else, an incurable optimist.

“What made her think,” Gretchen shouted at Jeff, “that I would be delighted to see the abbess of Quedlinburg back in political play? The woman’s a Crown Loyalist to the hilt and probably smarter than any other ten of them put together. Amalie Elizabeth excepted. Thank God she’s not in Magdeburg Province.”

The news went public even before Gretchen got the letter. There was an instant rise in popularity of the old ballad about King Cophetua and the Beggar-Maid.

“I don’t mind,” Annalise said to Iona. “If you listen to the ballad, the king and the beggar maid lived happily ever after and died in peace at an advanced old age.”

Ronnie Dreeson cleared her throat and mentioned David Bartley, stock exchanges, OPM, prudent investments, and Annalise’s current net worth. Her granddaughter would not be entering this marriage as a dowryless beggar-maid. The abbess of Quedlinburg smirked.

Magdeburg’s CoC members started to get outraged, some of them yelling about class treason, but Gunther Achterhof weighed in with the opinion that Frederik of Denmark was fundamentally a stone-cold, ruthless, ambitious, SOB who in that other world had transformed Denmark into an actual, legally established, by the grant of his idiotic subjects, absolute monarchy, and the Fourth of July Party was gambling an awful lot on the good sense and basic good intentions of his brother Ulrik. The last thing any sane revolutionary would want was for Ulrik to get himself killed while he was running around the Eastern Front gathering his mandatory stupid military experience and have the emperor and the Danish king slot Frederik in as a substitute fiancé for Kristina.

“Wherefore,” he exhorted, “having Frederik tied up in a royally-approved marriage he will have a hell of a time getting out of has to be considered a Really Good Idea. Yes, Annalise Richter may get caught in the grinder of Danish royal politics and come out as mincemeat, but balance that against getting Frederik out of the Kristina picture and it’s worth it to the movement. Remember the proverb about omelettes and eggs.”

One of the women leaning against the wall at the back of the Golden Arches looked at her husband next to her. “The prince is ‘stone-cold,’ is he? Well, there’s that saying. ‘It takes one to know one.’”

Gustav II Adolf was a hard man to refuse. In the end, in Magdeburg, they had Mazzare, Tom Simpson, and the Lutheran superintendent of the Magdeburg church officiating jointly with two quickly imported Danish Lutheran bishops. The bishop of Lund was of no particular significance in this instance except as to the office he held. Nobody present missed the implied statement that Scania was an integral part of the Danish crown rather than future pickings for Sweden, even if it was on the same peninsula as Stockholm. The other, the elderly bishop of Sjælland, ever since his appointment by the king two decades earlier, had led the campaign for strict Lutheran orthodoxy within the Danish church, tirelessly combating not only non-existent Catholics (there weren’t any left in Denmark and Norway for all practical purposes), but also Calvinists as represented by Dutch immigrants and Philippists and crypto-Calvinists within his own fold.

Theologians short on orthodoxy had fallen to his righteous wrath; professors at the University of Copenhagen who showed the slightest taint of liberal opinions had lost their positions. Right now, Christian IV told him firmly, he was going to officiate jointly with the cardinal-protector of the USE if that was what Gustav Adolf demanded. Whatever else, this marriage was going to stick.

“It might not work,” the emperor commented privately to his cousin Erik Haakansson Hand after the ceremony, “not as the up-timers think of a marriage as working, but it will stick. They’re as married as they can possibly be here. Once they have the Danish ceremony, they’ll be even more married.”

“How is Christian handling the no-Catholics-in-Denmark issue?”

“I ordered the Department of State to issue her a diplomatic passport.”

“That should do it.” Hand stood up and stretched his aching arm. “Neither of them is an up-timer, after all. I rather hope,” he added, “that they like one another, once Frederik gets all the first flurry of desperately desired sex over with.” He considered the issue briefly. “It’s not something I would have expected of the man. Perhaps he’s more his father’s son than anyone ever thought.”

He stretched the arm again, smiling. “I suppose that, upon this auspicious occasion, you will name him ‘Prince of Westphalia,’ too.”

Gustav Adolf smiled back. “Ah, I think not.” His smile faltered a little. “When that time comes that must inevitably come to us all,” he looked at his body, “that time of which I am myself now frequently reminded, it would introduce awkwardness.” He pushed himself up from the chair. “But neither shall I publicly rule out the possibility. I have no idea where that belief came from. However, while the up-timers and die Richterin may be able to push me in many directions where I would not, on my own, be impelled to go, I will not deprive myself of the satisfaction of tweaking their tails, occasionally, in the process.”

The Lutheran clergy of Roskilde discovered that once the ceremonies in Magdeburg were over and done, and the Danish court had a chance to organize suitable festivities, they were going to host a Catholic choir from St. Mary’s in Grantville at the Lutheran wedding ceremony in Denmark. Singing something called “On Eagles’ Wings”74 written by some twentieth-century up-time Catholic somebody. Annalise insisted on the choir. In this, she was an immovable object.

“No priests,” her future father-in-law insisted.

Annalise didn’t have any objection to that. There weren’t any priests in the choir as far as she knew. Of course, she hadn’t been back to Grantville for two years.

“My organist!”

She agreed to that, too.

Denmark had a Lutheran state church that meant something and the king was its secular head, which meant even more. Christian had no desire to see a Catholic choir in his favorite cathedral, the burial place of Danish monarchs, but he did want this marriage to stick. So he didn’t give the bishop a choice, but, then, after the Magdeburg ceremony, the bishop had not expected to have one.

Rehearsing in Grantville, one of the choir members whispered to the alto next to her, “Don’t we usually do this one at funerals?”

“Sssshhh.”




74. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VW0jDEM1Qxc “On Eagle’s Wings” (Lyrics & Photos) by Michael Joncas.


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