Part 3 "Use of opiates doesn't go with good typing or keeping a handle on the plot." - Sophia "You have to get up very early to get the better of the Cardinal." - Anthony Mayer

The Swedish council of war went on well into the night. By now the Finnish colonels were each well into their second tankard of vodka and their contributions were limited to cries of "Hakkaa päälle!" Gustav Adolph[1], who had only been drinking beer, tried to continue his presentation. He traced an outline of the Baltic coast by dipping his finger in a pool of spilt liquor on the oak table. "Cousin Siggy[2] is able to concentrate his forces where ever we march. His control of the Silesian coal fields gives him a train squadron second to none." General Gustav Horn[3] agreed, "You're just getting ready to do a spot of advancing or pillaging and here's this enormous engine with carriages disgorging lancers." The Chancellor, Axel Oxenstierna looked thoughtful. "Why do you fight the Poles your majesty?' he asked provocatively. "Well, as you know Axel," the King explained in tones one might use on an American native, unfamiliar with the Europe of the XVIIth century, "Sigismund III of Poland was once Sigismund I of Sweden as well. He still refuses to recognize my late Father's lawful usurpation of the Swedish throne and needs to be jolly well taught a lesson. Besides, he's one of those beastly Catholics. No true Swede would accept one such as he as their ruler." "Majesty, what you say is true," Oxenstierna agreed. "But as Chancellor I must warn you that your treasury is not inexhaustible. It is not as if you have the wealth of Denmark." Gustav Adolph looked thoughtful. "The Danes, eh? Why do they have all the money?" It was the Chancellor's turn to be supercilious but, as a good subject, in an obsequious kind of way. "As you know, your majesty, Christian IV controls Elsinore. The Sound Tolls that the Danes impose on all shipping entering or leaving the Baltic sea amount to some 200,000 thalers a year. King Christian has used this money to build up quite a substantial war chest." "What are you saying, Axel?" the King demanded. "What I am saying, your majesty, is that despite your brilliance as a commander and the bravery of your captains, you are beating your head against the figurative brick wall that is Poland. Sweden as it stands cannot decisively beat the Poles at the present. A richer Sweden could do so in the future." "But Oxenstierna. If I can't defeat Poland, how can I defeat richer Denmark?" "You are right, majesty. You can't. Not while Denmark is undistracted. But if it were Denmark and not you that was enmeshed in a land war in Europe. If Denmark were to join the War against the Empire and then you were to attack, you could control the Sound, levy the tolls yourself, and be one of the richest and powerful princes in Christendom." It seemed like a good plan. But one thing nagged Gustav Adolph. He was a Protestant prince. He was fighting a Catholic power. He was going to make peace with the Catholics and foment a war with his fellow Protestants. He knew that the Protestants of Germany were pinning all their hopes on Christian IV entering the war, that Scot James proving such a disappointment. What price Elsinore if Ferdinand II re-established the Empire as a unified Catholic bloc? Moodily, the King drank another tankard of beer. Gustav Adolph knew he was going to have a headache in the morning.

Armand J. de Plessis awoke with a headache. Where was that lady they saw him outwit last night? He felt the other side of the bed. She must have gone already. He raised himself up from his pillows. Ow! That must have been a cheap bottle of brandy, no matter how many sous he had paid for it. His housekeeper, Madame Cluny, bustled into the room. She took one look at the scene of the last night's dissipation and declared "Monsieur le Cardinal! Look at the state of the room!" De Plessis gave his chambers a single, cursory glance. They looked pretty bad. But not as bad as he felt. He turned to look at Mme Cluny. Never an oil painting she was particularly painful to look at this delicate time. "Madame," he said as clearly as he was able, "the state is me."

Robed and perfumed, the Duc de Richelieu felt a little more human and a little more ready for his audience with the Queen.

As he was walking down the corridor to the Queen's apartments he came across Mazarini, the Pope's young envoy to France. Mazarini had the most disreputable biretta this side of the Alps. It was partly stove in and the pom-pom was missing. Yet there was something about Mazarini's manner that de Plessis warmed to. "Hey boss! Whatta you wanna me to do a for you today, eh?" That was it. How many representatives of foreign powers were ready, nay, eager to do a chief minister's personal bidding? Giulio Mazarini was a man in a milliard. "Whatta do I wanna you to do?" de Plessis mimicked the younger man's thickly accented French. "What I want you to do is come with me to see the Queen. She isn't too happy about her brother pulling Spain out of the War and would like France to come to the party to help out her sister and her mother's side of the family." "Boss, I thinka you lost me with some of those brothers and sisters and stuff." "Look Mazarini it's very simple." They were nearing the Queen's rooms now, de Plessis hoped he had time to explain the knotted Hapsburg family tree before they reached their destination. "Anne of Austria is the sister of Phillip IV of Spain. She's also the sister of Ferdinand, who is the eldest son of Emperor Ferdinand II." "I thinka you lost me some more with alla those-a Ferdinands." "Ferdinand II is the Archduke of Austria and King of Bohemia and Hungary. He's also the Holy Roman Emperor. Ferdinand the Queen's brother-in-law will inherit all of Ferdinand II's personal titles on his father's death and become Ferdinand III. It's not certain that he will also be elected Holy Roman Emperor but that's certainly the way to bet. Capice?" "I got it, Boss." The had reached the Queen's chambers. The guards on the door recognized the two clerics and parted their halberds. "I justa got one question." "Yes?" "Who's this Ferdinand?"

The Queen had the Abbé l'Harpe with her. It had always dumbfounded de Plessis why Anne of Austria had chosen a Cistercian father to be her spiritual adviser. Perhaps he never gave her advice she could not stomach. The Queen was furious. "You are meant to be a man of the Church yet you will not help my family crush these Protestant heretics!" "My lady, I am first and foremost the chief minister of His Most Christian Majesty, King Louis XIII." De Plessis found he had to keep moving. The Abbé was wielding a pair of scissors and kept trying to trim de Plessis' robes. The pair circling around the Queen, de Plessis continued, "It is not in the interests of France to go to war at this time. This is the King's wish and I shall do his bidding." "His wish!" The Queen nearly spat. "He is a weak-minded excuse for a King. He has no wishes - he is just a receptacle for the poison you speak into his ear!" "My lady," the Cardinal spoke coldly. He stood firm now, l'Harpe was no longer pursuing him but had instead stolen Mazarini's biretta. "We are all subjects of the King and must do his will. If you will not, you can leave on a train. If you don't want to leave on a train you can leave on a tumbrel." The Queen snorted, "You can't frighten me! Anyway, France must come to the aid of Austria if Austria is attacked. It is in our marriage treaty." Armand J. de Plessis drew himself up to his full height. "I think you'll find that that treaty is only operative provided the parties of each part are of sound mind." For the first time Anne looked scared. "You can't mean..." "Yes" confirmed the Cardinal, "The sanity clause." "Hey boss," the hatless Mazarini began... [To be continued]

[1] In our timeline Gustav Adolph was the great Protestant hero of the Thirty Years' War. Yet today very few parents christen their sons 'Adolph'. The neglect of the mighty king's name is second only to the failure to honor that great Hasmonaean, Judas Maccabee. [2] Sigismund III of Poland, who was indeed Gus' first cousin. [3] Most Swedes at this time were called Gustav. Axel Oxenstierna is an exception but even he had a younger brother called Gustav. Although Horn was a Finn, this only proves my point. Horn, by the way, has not been drinking vodka but white wine. Hence his relatively coherent speech.