1632

Rebecca nodded. They had been speaking in German, since the king's spoken English was poor. "Both," she replied. "I was born in London but spent much of my girlhood in Amsterdam."

She gestured at her companions. "I only encountered this folk a year ago, when they-when my husband-rescued my father and me, yes. I consider myself an American now."

"Ah."

A smile came to her lips. "In most things, at least. Not all." The smile widened. "But, then, that is true of most Americans-the majority of whom are now people who were born and raised in this time and place."

"Ah." Mackay had told him this, also. And-again-the king had not quite believed. But now, seeing the ease of a Sephardic woman in her new identity, Gustav realized that his Scots officer had spoken the simple truth.

Can it be done? he wondered. He mused, for a moment, on the woman's earlier words. Which lasts longer-the mountains or the sea?

Gustav was a man of Scandinavia. He knew the answer.

Now, his eyes went to Mackay himself. The Scots officer had taken a chair next to the open-faced, pretty girl named Julie Sims. The king did not miss the subtle proprietary hints in the postures of both young people, and found himself smiling broadly.

"And you also, I see, Alexander."

There was perhaps a slight flush in the Scotsman's freckled face, but the officer's eyes remained steady.

"I am sworn to your service, Gustav II Adolf of Sweden." The words were spoken in a clipped, almost hostile manner. No, not hostile-simply challenging. The king understood the concept of honor which lay beneath. Quite well. Perfectly, in fact.

He raised a hand in a gesture which was not so much placatory as reassuring. "I am pleased to hear it, Alexander. Not that I doubted, mind you." He ran the hand over his short-cropped blond hair. "But, over time, loyalties can change. All I ask, if you find that happening, is that you give me your resignation. Until then, I ask no questions."

Mackay nodded stiffly.

The next few minutes were taken up by a discussion of the Ring of Fire. Gustav had already gotten a description of it from Mackay-in more than one letter-but he wanted to question the Americans themselves. So, with Rebecca acting as his interpreter, he asked many questions. And he listened very carefully to the responses.

The questions were firm, the responses were not-and it was that, more than anything else, which finally convinced the king. Within a very short time, Gustav was certain that the Americans, for all their mechanical wizardry, were as mystified by their situation as anyone else.

He was immensely relieved. All his deepest fears vanished. And began to be replaced with the first calculations for the future.

No witchcraft. Mackay was right. As for the rest-

Gustav swiveled in his chair and glanced at the two men standing toward the rear of the farmhouse. They had remained there at his request. Gustav had wanted to make a private assessment of the Americans, before pursuing anything else. But the matter had taken much less time than he expected, and he was satisfied that he could press onward. What he had thought would be a mystery, had proven otherwise. Or, rather, had proven to be the familiar mystery of divine providence.

With a little wave of the hand, he summoned the two men forward. As for the rest-

Who are we to question God's will? And who else could create such a Ring of Fire?

Which was quite as it should be. Gustav felt a rush of warmth for the Americans sitting across the table from him. They too-even this most outlandish folk he had ever heard of-were God's creatures, after all. Able to marvel at His handiwork, but not to understand it.

"As it should be…" he murmured.

The two men arrived at the table. "Sit," he commanded. With a pointing finger, he introduced them. "Wilhelm of Saxe-Weimar, the eldest duke. And Lennart Torstensson, my artillery commander."

Torstensson was obviously on the verge of bursting into speech, but Gustav restrained him with a sharp glance. First things first.

"You have created a difficult situation for me in Thuringia," the king said abruptly, speaking to the Americans. "Wilhelm here is one of my few reliable German allies, and you seem to have expropriated his duchy out from under him. This is-very awkward."

The Jewess cast a quick glance at Saxe-Weimar. Then, squaring her shoulders, she began to speak. But Wilhelm interrupted her before she was able to utter more than a few words.

"Please! I do not wish to add to the king of Sweden's problems." Wilhelm gestured with his head toward the door of the farmhouse. "Tilly's army is encamped less than two miles away, on the opposite bank of the Lech. The king intends to force the crossing tomorrow. This is not the time for political wrangling among his allies."