Read Online Dreamsongs, Volume I by George R. R. Martin - Free Book Online Page A

continued Cronstedt. “Instead, we have been allowed to retain three of Sveaborg’s six islands, and will regain two of the others if five Swedish ships-of-the-line arrive to aid us before the third of May. If not, we must surrender. But in either case the fleet shall be restored to Sweden after the war, and the truce between now and then will prevent the loss of any more lives.”
    Admiral Cronstedt halted, and looked to the side. Instantly Colonel Jägerhorn, sitting beside him, was on his feet. “I assisted the admiral in negotiating this agreement. It is a good one, a very good one. General Suchtelen has given us very generous terms. However, in case the Swedish aid does not arrive in time, we must make provisions for surrendering the garrison. That is the purpose of this meeting. We—”
    “NO!” The shout rang through the large room and echoed from its walls, cutting off Jägerhorn abruptly. At once there was a shocked silence. All eyes turned towards the rear of the room, where Colonel Bengt Anttonen stood among his fellow officers, white-faced and smoldering with anger.
    “Generous terms? Hah! What generous terms?” His voice was sharp with derision. “Immediate surrender of Wester-Svartö, Oster-Lilla-Svartö, and Langorn; the rest of Sveaborg to come later.
These
are generous terms? NO! Never! It is little more than surrender postponed for a month. And there is no need to surrender. We are NOT outnumbered. We are NOT weak. Sveaborg does not need provisions—it needs only a little courage, and a little faith.”
    The atmosphere in the council room had suddenly grown very cold, as Admiral Cronstedt regarded the dissident with frigid distaste. When he spoke, there was a hint of his old authority in his voice. “Colonel, I remind you of the orders I gave you the other day. I am tired of you questioning each of my actions. True, I have made small concessions, but I have given us a chance of retaining everything for Sweden. It is our only chance! Now SIT DOWN, Colonel!”
    There was a murmur of agreement from the officers around the room. Anttonen regarded them with disgust, then turned his gaze back to the admiral. “Yes, sir,” he said. “But, sir, this chance you have given us is no chance at all, no chance whatsoever. You see, sir, Sweden can’t get ships here fast enough. The ice will not melt in time.”
    Cronstedt ignored his words. “I gave you an order, Colonel,” he said, with iron in his voice. “Sit down!”
    Anttonen stared at him coldly, his eyes burning, his hands clenching and unclenching spasmodically at his sides. There was a long moment of tense silence. Then he sat down.
    Colonel Jägerhorn coughed, and rattled the sheaf of papers he was holding in his hands. “To continue with the business at hand,” he said, “we must first dispatch the messengers to Stockholm. Speed is essential here. The Russians will provide the necessary papers.”
    His eyes combed the room. “If the admiral agrees,” he said, “I would suggest Lieutenant Eriksson and—and—”
    He paused a second, and a slow smile spread across his features.
    “—and Captain Bannersson,” he concluded.
    Cronstedt nodded.

    T HE MORNING AIR WAS CRISP AND COLD, AND THE SUN WAS RISING IN the east. But no one watched. All eyes in Sveaborg were fixed on the dark and cloudy western horizon. For hours on end officer and soldier, Swede and Finn, sailor and artilleryman all searched the empty sea, and hoped. They looked to Sweden, and prayed for the sails they knew would never come.
    And among those who prayed was Colonel Bengt Anttonen. High atop the battlements of Vargön, he scanned the seas with a small telescope, like so many others in Sveaborg. And like the others, he found nothing.
    Folding his telescope, Anttonen turned from the ramparts with a frown to address the young ensign who stood by his side. “Useless,” he said. “I’m wasting valuable time.”
    The ensign looked scared and nervous. “There’s always