1632

His annoyance vanished at once. "Marvelous!" he exclaimed. The clarity of the image was far better than anything he had ever seen through a telescope. He spent perhaps a minute, gaily swinging the rifle back and forth, before settling to serious business.

The next few minutes were devoted to a careful inspection of his opponent's position. The Swedish and the Bavarian armies were located on opposite banks of the Lech, just south of the small river's confluence with the Danube. Here, the river passed through a low, marshy plain, flanked by higher land on either side. Tilly had marshaled his forces in the elevated woods beyond the marsh. Clearly enough, the old Catholic general was confident that the boggy terrain on the river banks would impede any Swedish advance badly enough to prevent a crossing. His flanks were well anchored by fortifications, and he had his own batteries drawn up in the center. It was, to all appearances, a well-nigh impregnable position.

But The king smiled grimly, as he studied a particular stretch of the river through the telescope. Directly opposite the high ground where Torstensson was positioning his seventy-two guns, the Lech made a wide loop. The river's meandering course had left a spit of land projecting toward the Swedes on the opposite bank. If a strong force could be moved across the water, onto that spit, under the cover of the Swedish guns, the king would have his bridgehead.

The king lowered the rifle. "Just as the Finns reported," he murmured to Anders with satisfaction. He turned to Julie and handed back the weapon.

"Splendid telescope," he said. "Though I found that peculiar flaw a bit distracting."

Mackay translated. Julie frowned-insult her scope!-and demanded an explanation. Mackay translated. The king explained:

Those two black lines meeting right in the center of the eyepiece.

Mackay translated. Julie-royal temper be damned-growled her response. Mackay translated.

The king erupted anew. "Nonsense!" he bellowed. Waving a great hand angrily: "That's five hundred yards!"

Imperiously, he pointed to Mackay and spoke to Julie. "Give this braggart that gun!" To Mackay: "Now-sir. Make good your boast!"

Mackay swallowed. Then, explained. The king's eyes bulged. Her?

Mackay nodded. The stare was transferred to-to-this-this impudent female!

Julie had had enough. She hefted the rifle. "Tell that fathead to pick his target," she snarled.

Mackay translated, more or less. He did not include the term "fathead." Gustav II Adolf glared at the enemy across the river, selecting his target. He couldn't see well enough, alas, so the king was forced to rely on Jцnsson.

"There's a very fine-looking officer near that one grove, Your Majesty. Dramatic fellow, judging from his posture."

Mackay began to translate, but Julie's German was good enough to understand the gist. The rifle was into her shoulder, her eye at the scope.

The king, watching, began to hiss. For all his indignation, Gustav was far too experienced a soldier not to recognize the casual expertise with which the girl Crack! The flat, unfamiliar sound startled the king. His head swiveled to Anders. The bodyguard's face seemed a bit pale.

"Well?" demanded Gustav.

"Dead on, Your Majesty. Right through the heart, I think. Hard to tell, at that distance. But he's down for good, that's certain."

"Nonsense! Luck! Another!"

Anders called out another target. A few seconds went by. Crack.

"Another!"

Crack.

"Another!"

Crack.

"Ano-" Gustav fell silent. The silence lasted for well over a minute. At the end, he heaved a sigh. Then, suddenly, he broke into a smile.

"Ah, Mackay-" The Scotsman, face very pale, stared at his sovereign. The king, for his part, was staring at Julie. Still smiling.

Julie was not smiling. She was glaring at Gustav with grotesque disregard for all proper etiquette in the presence of royalty.

"I believe I have offended your fiancйe," he said. "Under the circumstances, it might be best if you explained to her the provisions of the dueling code. Can't challenge a ruling monarch. Simply isn't done. Besides-"

He chuckled. "Explain to her that as the challenged party I would have the choice of weapons. Sabers, for a certainty!"

When Mackay translated, Julie's ill humor evaporated instantly. For a moment, she and the king of Sweden exchanged grins. Watching, Anders thought of a chipmunk and a bear beaming in mutual approval.

But he kept the thought to himself. He even managed not to smile at his king's next muttered words.

"Witchcraft-nonsense! What woman needs to be a witch, when she can shoot like that?"

A moment later, Torstensson's guns began to fire, and his amusement vanished. Anders knew the king's plan for the coming battle. No one had asked his opinion, of course-he was merely a bodyguard-but the veteran had a firm one nonetheless.

Gustav II Adolf proposed to force a river in the face of a powerful fortified enemy, in defiance of all established military wisdom of the day.

Madman!

***