"Anna, of course." The older woman winked mischievously. "Although Lothar prefers Herr Consul. It makes him feel important."
"Herr Consul." Ginny bowed. "But it is important, you know. I'm just a young girl, but I've studied history. Only an important nation would bother with a consul. Your presence here, Consul Boelcke, gives us a certain prestige. The more accustomed they become to your title, the more the idea of the United States will take hold."
This plainly pleased Lothar. "Broadly speaking yes." He nodded. "Some of my neighbors will insist that I've delusions of grandeur."
"And rightly so," Frau Anna murmured with a wicked dimple. Ginny decided she was going to like Anna.
The consul didn't deign to notice his wife's comment. Instead he looked at Ginny. "Now, Fraulein Cochran, would you be so kind as to tell me what you are planning to do in Stockholm? I was just informed you had been appointed to my staff."
Ginny tried hard not to swallow. Despite his initial fury and fussy manner, she had decided Lothar Boelcke was no one's fool. Part of what she was supposed to do here, was to report back… about him. Boelcke had been recommended to the powers-that-be in Grantville. He was known to be scrupulously honest in his business dealings with the fledgling state, and was apparently very supportive of American up-timer ideals. Stockholm didn't warrant an ambassador yet… but a consul, even if he was a local, could help with matters, principally with the burgeoning trade. But… an up-timer-born like herself could tell the authorities if the man was really a good choice. "I was an assistant librarian," she said calmly. "I can handle writing, filing and other secretarial duties. I'm also fluent in English and Spanish and by now fairly conversant in German."
"Your German is certainly good enough," the consul allowed. "But most of my ledgers are in Swedish." Boelcke nodded thoughtfully, and looked directly at Ginny. "Let me ask that question again, Fraulein Cochran. What do you want to do in Stockholm?"
"I think the first answer is to become fully fluent in Swedish," she said with a smile. "And as time goes on we will get more English-speaking up-timers here. I could be useful dealing with them."
"It still, at this stage, is work that will not take up much of your time. You need, fraulein, a project to allow you to mix with Swedish people. Something with a good, popular profile, ja?"
"I think," said Ginny, "I may have just the thing. But let me think about it, please." She had a feeling "raising the Vasa" was not quite what he had in mind.
"Indeed, Lothar. Let her find her feet for a day or two," said Anna.
"Thank you." Ginny smiled tiredly. "But I do need to liberate those poor men. They got into trouble for my sake. And they seemed good, honest fellows. Upcountry farmers."
Boelcke nodded. "They mock them here in the capital, but they're the bedrock of the country."
"Mother was right." Olof Lennartson's punch sent fractured mortar spurting across the cell. Olof sucked his knuckles and grimaced "She always said Karl would come to a bad end over a girl."
"I doubt she meant it this way though," Lars said with a grin. "She didn't expect him to ever defend a German lady's virtue against foreign ruffians. Anyway, it wasn't Karl. It was Per."
"More fool you." Karl sighed. "If you're serious about it, defending virtues must be the most thankless job in the world."
"I'm not so sure about that," Per interjected. "That foreign lass was no ordinary girl."
"Indeed." Lars quipped. "For starters she looked at you and not at Karl."
"There is that, too," Per allowed, "but mainly she didn't act like the women I met in Germany." He was about to say something else when the door opened and a turnkey followed by two guards motioned the brothers to step outside.
"I'd rather see you hung," the turnkey said sourly, "But some foreign woman conned the boss into letting you out."
"Told you so," Per said. "That's no ordinary girl."
Gods, but they are big, Ginny thought. She had seen larger men, but taken together in a good light the Lennartson brothers loomed like trees and boulders on a steep slope… right before the avalanche. They all looked expectantly at her, too. Ginny hesitated for a moment, and then she turned towards the oldest one.
Please translate for your brothers," Ginny said. "I came to thank you."
"You got us free," Karl blurted. "Just like that."
"Well," Ginny answered, "I had to talk for a while and part with some silver, but you are free to go."
"Then we're in your debt." Per said something in Swedish, and as one, the brothers bowed.
"Of course not," Ginny said. "You helped me. Paying your fine was the least I could do for you."
"You paid it for us?" Per's face was a study in wonderment, and Ginny found herself nodding. The brothers went into a huddle and then Per spoke again.
"We thank you, lady." For a moment, Per looked uncertain, but then he went on. "We fought those who attacked you because that's our way. For that, you owe us nothing. We fought the guards because of a misunderstanding. Again, you owe us nothing. Now you've paid for our freedom with both your word and your silver. We're in your debt today and for all future." The other brothers nodded, at once crossing their hearts like Catholics.
Like something out of the Dark Ages, Ginny thought. Then she checked herself. I guess these boys never heard about the Renaissance. There was no mistaking their heartfelt sincerity however, and Ginny swallowed a lump in her throat.
"Well, you could do something for me."
"Surely."
"When it is light tomorrow, go and look from the dockside at the masts of the Vasa sticking out of the water. Then we'll talk. Where can I find you?"
Per grimaced. "We will send a message. The place we will be sleeping is not for well-bred ladies. It is not safe."
"Not unless they are lady rats," said Karl, grinning.
Things were going well indeed, Fermin Mazalet reflected as he sat waiting in Admiral Fleming's opulent antechamber. Although there was no one else in the room, the Frenchman hid his smile. His bronze-into-gold-scheme had succeeded beyond his wildest imagination. The suckers, silly aristocrats all of them, hadn't even realized they'd been duped, and most of them would be ready to back his claims of scientific and engineering expertise. Mazalet snorted. Useful fools the lot of them. Swedish aristocrats were more hidebound than those of his country were, and they really believed that knowledge of anything save war would stain their precious honor. A nobleman neither traded nor tilled the earth, and that created enormous possibilities for a man like Fermin Mazalet. Being a foreigner was the key of course; a Swedish go-between would never be anything but a servant. Being seen as outside the system, but with exquisite manners and commercial shrewdness, was a real door-opener with the more hypocritical among the nobility.
"Can't swindle an honest man, Fermin," he thought. "Let's find out what kind of man Admiral Fleming really is." He leaned back on the marble bench about to make himself comfortable for a long wait when a young officer opened the door. Mazalet rose and bowed floridly. The officer just stared.
"The admiral will listen to your proposal, Monsieur Mazalet," he said coldly. "Please follow me."
Arrogant. Mazalet hid his disdain behind a friendly smile. I would keep an armed unknown in front of me if I were he. Treville would have him drubbed out of service in the wink of an eye.
The reason for the officer's seeming nonchalance became evident soon enough. As Mazalet crossed the threshold into the admiral's office, a huge wolfhound rose from the floor and padded towards across the flagstones. The beast pinned Mazalet with its stare as it sniffed loudly. Suddenly it growled, a deep thrumming sound emanating from the large chest. Mazalet stood still, looking intently at the admiral who remained behind his desk. Mazalet did not bow. The admiral was in control of the situation, and he would get to the point eventually. Mazalet just waited.