There didn’t seem to be any point to denying that, so Rebecca didn’t bother to try. Besides, the prince didn’t really seem angry. Amused, more than anything else.
“Frederik Hendrik, she is a superb organizer. Public orator too, I might add. And you will need that organization, Prince. The chemical substances we will bring to the city—smuggle them in somehow; my husband says he can do it—are not a magic wand. They need to be dispensed in a rational and organized manner, and combined with measures—strict measures—of public sanitation. No civic militia is set up to oversee something like that. Whereas the Committees of Correspondence can and will.”
She ran her hands down her thighs, smoothing the rich fabric. “I do not propose that you acknowledge her publicly, of course, or give the Committees themselves any official sanction. That would be most indelicate, given your need to maintain the loyalty of the noblemen in Overijssel. But here in Amsterdam . . .”
The prince leaned back in his chair, his eyes growing slightly unfocused. “Yessss . . . The men guarding the walls will be simple workmen, more often than not. Many of them, apprentices. Essential to keep their spirits up, I agree. Will agree further, for that matter, that I wouldn’t mind at all seeing the civic militia organized along less purely military lines.” He frowned. “That always starts causing its own trouble, the longer a siege goes on. The soldiers start taking advantage . . . Still . . .”
He chuckled. “Talk about a Devil’s bargain! You offer to free me from plague, with one hand, while handing me a different sort of epidemic on the other.”
Many times, Rebecca had found Gretchen’s unrelenting attitudes somewhat annoying. But now, she discovered—not for the first time—that annoyance only went so far. Much as she liked this particular nobleman, she had no doubt at all where she stood in the great chasm which ran through European politics.
“Call it that if you will,” she said, as harshly as she’d ever spoken in her life. “But that ‘epidemic’ is, in the end, the one which can cure the other. Choose, then, Prince of Orange.”
He didn’t hesitate for more than a few seconds. “Oh, I’ll take my chances with Richter. One enemy at a time.”
Rebecca smiled. “Exactly what my husband says.”
After she returned to the U.S. delegation’s quarters, Rebecca plopped herself onto a couch next to Gretchen. “You’re on,” she said.
Gretchen sniffed. Rebecca smiled. “I knew you’d wait for permission.” Her eyes were drawn to the door leading to the kitchen. There seemed to be an unusual amount of noise coming from within.
“We have guests?”
“Three apprentices,” Gretchen replied. “Two journeymen also. All employed in the copper-working shops here in Amsterdam. Heinrich and I met them yesterday. And the daughter of the master craftsman one of the journeymen works for. They’re affianced.”
That was a common enough situation. What was not common, of course, was to have such a group gathered in the kitchen of what was, technically, a prestigious and snooty foreign delegation’s quarters. Rebecca didn’t know whether to sigh or giggle.
She giggled. Impossible not to, given the bet she’d made with Frederik Henrik.
“By the way,” she added casually, fluffing her hair, “the prince of Orange says he’d like to meet you. He’s quite curious. It would have to be a very discreet meeting, of course, so you’d need to use the servants’ entrance.”
“The prince of Orange can kiss my sweet German ass. Discreet is fine. He can wear a disguise. The servants’ entrance is out.”
“Exactly what I told the prince you’d say,” said Rebecca cheerfully. “Now what shall I spend the money I won on?”
“With a siege coming? Get salted herring.”