Read Online Dreamsongs, Volume I by George R. R. Martin - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: George R. R. Martin
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the chance, sir. Suchtelen’s deadline is not until noon. A few hours, but we can hope, can’t we?”
Anttonen was grim, sober. “I wish we could, but we’re just deluding ourselves. The armistice agreement provides that the ships must not merely be in sight by noon, but must have entered Sveaborg’s harbor.”
The ensign looked puzzled. “What of it?” he asked.
Anttonen pointed out over the walls, towards an island dimly visible in the distance. “Look there,” he said. His arm moved to indicate a second island. “And there. Russian fortifications. They’ve used the truce to gain command of the sea approaches. Any ship attempting to reach Sveaborg will come under heavy attack.”
The colonel sighed. “Besides, the sea is dogged with ice. No ship will be able to reach us for weeks. The winter and the Russians have combined to kill our hopes.”
Glumly, ensign and colonel walked from the ramparts into the interior of the fortress together. The corridors were dim and depressing; silence reigned everywhere.
At last, Anttonen spoke. “We’ve delayed long enough, Ensign. Vain hopes will no longer suffice; we must strike.” He looked into his companion’s eyes as they walked. “Gather the men. The time has come. I shall meet you near my quarters in two hours.”
The ensign hesitated. “Sir,” he asked. “Do you think we have a chance? We have so few men. We’re a handful against a fortress.”
In the dim light, Anttonen’s face was tired and troubled. “I don’t know,” he said. “I just don’t know. Captain Bannersson had contacts; if he had remained, our numbers would be greater. But I don’t know the enlisted men like Carl did. I don’t know who we can trust.”
The colonel halted, and clasped the ensign firmly on the shoulder. “But, regardless, we’ve got to try. Finland’s army has starved and been frozen and watched their homeland burn all winter. The only thing that has kept them going is the dream of winning it back. And without Sveaborg, that dream will die.” He shook his head sadly. “We can’t let that happen. With that dream dies Finland.”
The ensign nodded. “Two hours, sir. You can count on us. We’ll put some fight in Admiral Cronstedt yet.” He grinned, and hurried on his way.
Alone in the silent corridor, Colonel Bengt Anttonen drew his sword, and held it up to where the dim light played along its blade. He gazed at it sadly, and wondered in silence how many Finns he’d have to kill in order to save Finland.
But there was no answer.
T HE TWO GUARDS FIDGETED UNEASILY. “I DON’T KNOW, C OLONEL,” said one. “Our orders are to admit no one to the armory without authorization.”
“I should think my rank would be sufficient authorization,” snapped back Anttonen. “I am giving you a direct order to let us pass.”
The first guard looked at his companion doubtfully. “Well,” he said. “In that case perhaps we—”
“No, sir,” said the second guard. “Colonel Jägerhorn ordered us not to admit anyone without authorization from Admiral Cronstedt. I’m afraid that includes you, too, sir.”
Anttonen regarded him coldly. “Perhaps we should see Admiral Cronstedt about this,” he said. “I think he might like to hear how you disobeyed a direct order.”
The first guard winced. Both of them were squirming with unease, and had focused all their attention on the angry Finnish colonel. Anttonen scowled at them. “Come along,” he said. “Now.”
The pistol shots that rang out from the nearby corridor at that word took the guards completely by surprise. There was a cry of pain as one clutched his bleeding arm, his gun clattering to the floor. The second whirled towards the sound, and simultaneously Anttonen leaped forward to seize his musket in an iron grip. Before the guard had quite grasped what was happening, the colonel had wrenched his gun from startled fingers. From the corridor on the right issued a group of armed men, most bearing
Anttonen was grim, sober. “I wish we could, but we’re just deluding ourselves. The armistice agreement provides that the ships must not merely be in sight by noon, but must have entered Sveaborg’s harbor.”
The ensign looked puzzled. “What of it?” he asked.
Anttonen pointed out over the walls, towards an island dimly visible in the distance. “Look there,” he said. His arm moved to indicate a second island. “And there. Russian fortifications. They’ve used the truce to gain command of the sea approaches. Any ship attempting to reach Sveaborg will come under heavy attack.”
The colonel sighed. “Besides, the sea is dogged with ice. No ship will be able to reach us for weeks. The winter and the Russians have combined to kill our hopes.”
Glumly, ensign and colonel walked from the ramparts into the interior of the fortress together. The corridors were dim and depressing; silence reigned everywhere.
At last, Anttonen spoke. “We’ve delayed long enough, Ensign. Vain hopes will no longer suffice; we must strike.” He looked into his companion’s eyes as they walked. “Gather the men. The time has come. I shall meet you near my quarters in two hours.”
The ensign hesitated. “Sir,” he asked. “Do you think we have a chance? We have so few men. We’re a handful against a fortress.”
In the dim light, Anttonen’s face was tired and troubled. “I don’t know,” he said. “I just don’t know. Captain Bannersson had contacts; if he had remained, our numbers would be greater. But I don’t know the enlisted men like Carl did. I don’t know who we can trust.”
The colonel halted, and clasped the ensign firmly on the shoulder. “But, regardless, we’ve got to try. Finland’s army has starved and been frozen and watched their homeland burn all winter. The only thing that has kept them going is the dream of winning it back. And without Sveaborg, that dream will die.” He shook his head sadly. “We can’t let that happen. With that dream dies Finland.”
The ensign nodded. “Two hours, sir. You can count on us. We’ll put some fight in Admiral Cronstedt yet.” He grinned, and hurried on his way.
Alone in the silent corridor, Colonel Bengt Anttonen drew his sword, and held it up to where the dim light played along its blade. He gazed at it sadly, and wondered in silence how many Finns he’d have to kill in order to save Finland.
But there was no answer.
T HE TWO GUARDS FIDGETED UNEASILY. “I DON’T KNOW, C OLONEL,” said one. “Our orders are to admit no one to the armory without authorization.”
“I should think my rank would be sufficient authorization,” snapped back Anttonen. “I am giving you a direct order to let us pass.”
The first guard looked at his companion doubtfully. “Well,” he said. “In that case perhaps we—”
“No, sir,” said the second guard. “Colonel Jägerhorn ordered us not to admit anyone without authorization from Admiral Cronstedt. I’m afraid that includes you, too, sir.”
Anttonen regarded him coldly. “Perhaps we should see Admiral Cronstedt about this,” he said. “I think he might like to hear how you disobeyed a direct order.”
The first guard winced. Both of them were squirming with unease, and had focused all their attention on the angry Finnish colonel. Anttonen scowled at them. “Come along,” he said. “Now.”
The pistol shots that rang out from the nearby corridor at that word took the guards completely by surprise. There was a cry of pain as one clutched his bleeding arm, his gun clattering to the floor. The second whirled towards the sound, and simultaneously Anttonen leaped forward to seize his musket in an iron grip. Before the guard had quite grasped what was happening, the colonel had wrenched his gun from startled fingers. From the corridor on the right issued a group of armed men, most bearing
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