Read Online 1635: The Eastern Front by Eric Flint - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Eric Flint
Tags: Fiction, General, Science-Fiction, Science Fiction - General, Fiction - Science Fiction, Modern & contemporary fiction (post c 1945), American Science Fiction And Fantasy, Alternative History, General & Literary Fiction, Science Fiction - Military, Graphic novels: Manga
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ever-widening divergence between the western and eastern parts of Europe. This, he claims, is what underlay the two great world wars that were fought in the century from which he came, in the course of which tens of millions of people died. And he lays the blame for that divergence upon the fact that, where serfdom vanished in western Europe, it had a resurgence in the eastern lands."
"He's no longer the prime minister of the USE, however," pointed out Lukasz.
"Yes—but that's beside the point. We were talking about the Americans, not the USE. Whether Mike Stearns is the prime minister or not, he still retains the personal allegiance of the big majority of Americans. That even includes Admiral Simpson now, who was once his most prominent opponent among the up-timers." Jozef finished his own glass of wine and set it down on a side table. "Besides, while he is no longer prime minister, he isnow one of the three divisional commanders in Torstensson's army. The same army, I remind you, that crushed the French at Ahrensbök. So it's hardly the case that he's vanished from the scene."
The hetman shifted his massive shoulders. The gesture was not quite a shrug. "I may not even disagree with you, Jozef. But it doesn't matter. I am the grand hetman of Poland, not its king. Nor, perhaps more importantly, am I the Sejm. They will make the decision, not me—but I must tell you that King Wladyslaw is strongly inclined to intervene."
Lukasz sniffed. "Of course he is. He's a Vasa himself and thinks he's the rightful king of Sweden, not Gustav Adolf." A bit angrily, he added, "Which is the reason he's constantly embroiling Poland and Lithuania in things we should be staying out of."
Again, Koniecpolski shifted his shoulders. "I may not disagree with you, either, young Opalinski. But—again—I am simply the grand hetman. Whatever decision the Sejm and the king make, I will obey."
Jozef knew there was no point in pursuing the matter. It was odd, in a way. When it came to martial matters, Stanislaw Koniecpolski had a supple and flexible mind. For all the man's personal devotion to ancient methods of warfare—he probably was the greatest archer in Poland; certainly the greatest mounted archer—he'd proven quite capable all his life of adapting to new realities. He knew how to use modern infantry, artillery and fortifications; the so-called "Dutch style" of warfare. He had proven to be skilled at combining land and naval operations, too, although he was not a naval commander himself. Yet that same adaptability ended abruptly whenever Koniecpolski confronted a problem of a social or political rather than strictly military nature.
Koniecpolski now looked to Lukasz. "I could very much use some more up-to-date and accurate military information. My iconoclastic young nephew here has proven to be a superb spymaster. Alas, his knowledge of purely military matters is not what it could be. You, on the other hand—as one might expect from an Opalinski—have already made a reputation for yourself as a hussar."
Lukasz made humble noises. Jozef was rather amused. In point of simple fact, despite his youth, Lukasz was a noted hussar. A good thing, too. The Opalinski family produced a high number of free-thinkers and heretics. Lukasz's younger brother Krzysztof, for instance, was already a notorious radical, who was accused of advocating the overthrow of serfdom and the monarchy—even the nobility to which he himself belonged. The accusation was probably true.
Fortunately, Opalinskis also tended to be skilled at arms. Certainly, Lukasz was.
"How may I be of service?" he asked.
"I do not expect Poland will be fielding any sizeable forces in the opening stages of the coming war, even assuming the Sejm decides to intervene. You know how it is."
Lukasz nodded, wincing a little. Jozef was wincing himself.
You know how it is. In the long and often inglorious annals of the human race, Jozef thought the Polish Sejm was probably the worst example at
"He's no longer the prime minister of the USE, however," pointed out Lukasz.
"Yes—but that's beside the point. We were talking about the Americans, not the USE. Whether Mike Stearns is the prime minister or not, he still retains the personal allegiance of the big majority of Americans. That even includes Admiral Simpson now, who was once his most prominent opponent among the up-timers." Jozef finished his own glass of wine and set it down on a side table. "Besides, while he is no longer prime minister, he isnow one of the three divisional commanders in Torstensson's army. The same army, I remind you, that crushed the French at Ahrensbök. So it's hardly the case that he's vanished from the scene."
The hetman shifted his massive shoulders. The gesture was not quite a shrug. "I may not even disagree with you, Jozef. But it doesn't matter. I am the grand hetman of Poland, not its king. Nor, perhaps more importantly, am I the Sejm. They will make the decision, not me—but I must tell you that King Wladyslaw is strongly inclined to intervene."
Lukasz sniffed. "Of course he is. He's a Vasa himself and thinks he's the rightful king of Sweden, not Gustav Adolf." A bit angrily, he added, "Which is the reason he's constantly embroiling Poland and Lithuania in things we should be staying out of."
Again, Koniecpolski shifted his shoulders. "I may not disagree with you, either, young Opalinski. But—again—I am simply the grand hetman. Whatever decision the Sejm and the king make, I will obey."
Jozef knew there was no point in pursuing the matter. It was odd, in a way. When it came to martial matters, Stanislaw Koniecpolski had a supple and flexible mind. For all the man's personal devotion to ancient methods of warfare—he probably was the greatest archer in Poland; certainly the greatest mounted archer—he'd proven quite capable all his life of adapting to new realities. He knew how to use modern infantry, artillery and fortifications; the so-called "Dutch style" of warfare. He had proven to be skilled at combining land and naval operations, too, although he was not a naval commander himself. Yet that same adaptability ended abruptly whenever Koniecpolski confronted a problem of a social or political rather than strictly military nature.
Koniecpolski now looked to Lukasz. "I could very much use some more up-to-date and accurate military information. My iconoclastic young nephew here has proven to be a superb spymaster. Alas, his knowledge of purely military matters is not what it could be. You, on the other hand—as one might expect from an Opalinski—have already made a reputation for yourself as a hussar."
Lukasz made humble noises. Jozef was rather amused. In point of simple fact, despite his youth, Lukasz was a noted hussar. A good thing, too. The Opalinski family produced a high number of free-thinkers and heretics. Lukasz's younger brother Krzysztof, for instance, was already a notorious radical, who was accused of advocating the overthrow of serfdom and the monarchy—even the nobility to which he himself belonged. The accusation was probably true.
Fortunately, Opalinskis also tended to be skilled at arms. Certainly, Lukasz was.
"How may I be of service?" he asked.
"I do not expect Poland will be fielding any sizeable forces in the opening stages of the coming war, even assuming the Sejm decides to intervene. You know how it is."
Lukasz nodded, wincing a little. Jozef was wincing himself.
You know how it is. In the long and often inglorious annals of the human race, Jozef thought the Polish Sejm was probably the worst example at
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