Today, they huddled in Dresden and Berlin. Tomorrow . . . Or, at least, the year after that . . .
No one in that ballroom had any doubt at all that once Gustav Adolf settled his accounts with the League of Ostend, the Swedish eagle’s beak would fix itself on Saxony and Brandenburg and their horde of princely toadies.
The man had a short way with traitors, formalities be damned. For all intents and purposes, the CPE no longer existed. The loyal regions would incorporate into the new United States. The disloyal ones would soon enough seek an alliance with the Austrians and Poles. A “cold” civil war would become hot, before too long.
“So, Mary, what do you think?” Mike asked softly, as she took him by the arm and began parading him through the room.
“It’s shaping up perfectly. Wilhelm and Hesse-Kassel have agreed to meet with you privately in one of the smaller rooms, later tonight. Give it about an hour, I’d say. First, I need to introduce you around.”
“You’re the expert. I take it you don’t want me charging into the crowd and glad-handing everybody.”
She kept the smile firmly in place. “Are you crazy?” she murmured. “You’re not at a campaign rally here, Michael Stearns. The trick at these things is to be approachable, yes—but let them approach you. It’s all very civilized, but don’t kid yourself. What you’re really doing here is establishing dominance, simple as that. Prime Minister. You’re just doing it in a way which lets them all save face.”
She could see the first little tremors in the crowd, which, so far, had kept a respectful distance. “The youngsters will be the first. Make sure you shower them with approval. Nothing gauche, you understand. Dignity, dignity. That’s what princelings need, who’ve thrown themselves into the fire in a burst of enthusiasm and announced their voluntary abdications.”
Mike made a little grunting sound. “That happened early in the French Revolution too, if I remember right. Good. I’ve got high hopes we can manage to avoid the guillotine and whiff of grapeshot side of the business. Most of it, anyway. I’ll talk to Frank and Lennart about the possibility of offering them commissions in the new army. It’d have to be staff positions, of course, at least at first. The volunteer regiments are going to be pretty woolly in these early days.”
She started to respond but saw the first wave coming. Very quickly, too. She never really had time to finish the introductions before Mike began showering seven ex-noblemen, five of them still teenagers, with a display of reserved-but-sincere approval which she thought would have met even George Washington’s standards.
Dignitas. That’s the trick.
He managed it effortlessly throughout that first critical hour. Adjusting his dignitas properly, from one person to the next. Shading it with gravity for the solemn, ardor for the ardent; exuding confidence for the nervous, relaxation and wit for those willing to chance it. Best of all, he managed to keep a serene expression when dealing with the babbling witless idiots who constituted perhaps half the crowd.
About the same as Pittsburgh, Mary estimated. Subtract ten percent for the abbess. God, I love it.
“So, Michael. How soon do you foresee the first nationwide election?”
“Hard to say, Wilhelm. I’m guessing about one year, but . . . It’ll depend on a number of variables. The press of the war, obviously. Things will be quiet there through most of the winter. Just siege warfare, really. Come spring . . .”
Mike shifted in his seat a little. “Then, on the other end, there’s the simple mechanical problems involved. Establishing election boards which are trusted to be reasonably honest and efficient. Procedures for counting the votes. On and on. Just printing the ballots will be something of a challenge.” He smiled cheerfully. “I foresee a rapid expansion of the printing industry in Magdeburg.”
Wettin chuckled. “Do you ever miss a chance to scheme on two levels? Just what Magdeburg needs! More printers! The most radical artisans in Europe.”
Mike shrugged easily. “Don’t complain, Wilhelm. Yes, Magdeburg province will be a bastion for me. In some ways, even more so than—ah—”