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Free election.
What a mistake.
The whole thing was hard to imagine. Ministers, archbishops, vaivodes, castellans, and nobles gathered on vast meadows near Warsaw and arranged themselves into a circle. Contenders would send envoys who made presentations as to why their particular man should be king. Promises were extended. Lots of them. Disputes arose. Physical violence was common. Eventually a vote would be taken and the man with the highest count won.
Few other nations in the world chose its ruler in such a bizarre way.
It reflected the Poles’ strong belief in individual freedom and hatred of central authority. But the whole thing turned out to be disastrous. Kings, by definition, were meant to be independent and rule absolutely. But Polish kings were totally beholden to the nobles who elected them. Even worse, they had to abide by the promises they made to get elected. If they reneged, the nobles had the right to withdraw their allegiance.
The results from such insanity were predictable.
Monarchs became weak and ineffective. Most were not even Polish, as the tendency became to choose a foreigner with no local roots or connections. Those strangers cared little for the Polish nation, which led to countless unnecessary conflicts both foreign and domestic. Civil wars raged. The time between the death of one monarch and the election of the next eventually evolved into years, which caused even more unrest. In turn the power of the landowning nobles increased. They worked hard to keep the country rural, stifling the growth of cities and preventing the emergence of a middle class. None of which proved productive.
Corruption became institutionalized.
The Sejm, Poland’s lower house of parliamentary representatives, grew in strength and stature, all at the further expense of the king, retaining for itself the final decisions on legislation, taxation, and foreign policy.
Nothing became law without their approval.
Then the liberum veto delivered the coup de grâce.
I freely forbid.
One member of the Sejm could stop any piece of legislation.
All votes had to be unanimous.
Even more incredible, if they were unable to reach a unanimous decision on an issue within six weeks, the time limit of a single session, their deliberations were declared void and all previous acts of that session, even if passed and approved, were annulled.
What insanity.
The liberum veto brought Poland to near collapse.
Good judgment finally prevailed and it was abolished in 1791. But far too late, as the Polish nation itself was dissolved four years later.
Thank goodness things had changed. But some of the bad tendencies remained. Poland still had a hard time moving forward. And still faced constant interference from foreigners.
Jak cie widza, tak cie pisza.
How they see you, that’s how they perceive you.
An old Polish saying that still rang true.
The door in the suite’s outer room opened. It was manned by two of his BOR men, on guard in the hall. The hotel had been most accommodating with his last-minute booking. Luckily, the Royal Wawel Suite had been available and sat on an upper floor, at the end of a long hall, away from the elevators, an easy matter to secure access. He stepped from the bedroom and saw Sonia, who’d returned from the castle.
“What happened?” he asked.
“It went perfectly. Cotton took the spear and made his escape.”
“Anyone alerted?”
She shook her head. “I personally handled it, with the guards none the wiser. They thought he was an intruder. I gave him just enough resistance to move him along, and he eventually fled the grounds through the Dragon’s Den.”
He chuckled. “How appropriate.”
He stepped over to the small bar that had been set up for his visit and poured two generous measures of Irish whiskey. They’d discovered a mutual admiration for the beverage, so he’d asked that a bottle be made available, hoping she’d be here at some point.
“Now the question is, will we learn the location of the auction?” he asked, offering her a glass and sipping from his own.
“We will. Cotton will make sure of that.”
They wanted Malone to take the spear. They’d implanted a GPS marker in the wooden box that protected it, which should lead them straight to the auction site.
“What do you mean, he’ll make sure we know?”
“Janusz, Cotton is no fool. He certainly realizes that we allowed him to take the spear. He might be a little upset over the fall he took, but he’ll get over it.”
“If he knows, why take it?”
“It’s America’s ticket in, and he wants us to follow. He’s headed into a blind situation, and he’s being used by Tom Bunch and President Fox. He stayed in this because of Stephanie Nelle. It’s the only reason he would. They used that loyalty to get him to steal the spear and they’ll use it to force him to go to the auction with Bunch. But he knows the Russians are not happy. That was made clear in Bruges. There could be trouble, so he’s going to need some help. That’s where we come in.”
“Sounds like you know this man well.”
“He’s a pro. He’d also dealt with Ivan before. So he knows the man is not trustworthy. Cotton has to assume that the Russians are not telling us everything. Especially the auction location. So he’ll lead us there.”
“You have great respect for him.”
“Still jealous?”
“And what if I were?” he asked her.
“I’d say it’s a strange reaction from a married man.”
He appraised her with a cautious gaze, the whiskey warming his chest. “Why are you with me?”
He genuinely wanted to know.
“I work for you.”
“That’s not an answer, and you know it. Do you love me?”
He’d never asked her that question before.
“I do.”
Her admission pleased him. “I love you, too.”
She enjoyed more of the whiskey. “Was any of that in doubt?”
“Not doubt. But this whole thing is complicated.”
She smiled. “That it is. But isn’t the problem of this auction a bit more pressing than our personal lives?”
“They’re both important to me.”
He’d not felt so vulnerable to a woman in a long time. Yes, he was still married and the country would disapprove. The church would disapprove. His wife? Only if the press discovered any of it would she care. Thankfully, his security team was discreet and understanding. And now he found himself inside a magnificent suite, with a beautiful woman he loved, night firmly embraced outside, the day over.
Another saying came to mind.
Nie chwal dnia przed zachodem slonca.
Don’t praise the day before sunset.
First, though, he wanted to know, “Will there be any mention of the theft?”
She nodded. “The castle is releasing a statement about the break-in, saying they are still determining what, if anything, may have been taken. The director was told this is a national security matter and secrecy is necessary. He’s the only one who knows that we planned it all. I assured him the spear would be returned within two days.”
“If we lose it, there’s going to be trouble.”
“I know. I’ll get it back.”
“Along with what’s being auctioned on me?”
“That too.”
He finished his drink and laid their glasses down. “Where is the box being tracked?”
She nodded. “Only on my phone.”
“And nothing more will be happening tonight?”
She shrugged. “I doubt it. But we’ll keep an eye on it.”
He took her into his arms.
“How about we both do that.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
Cotton found the U.S. consulate, located on a side street not far from Kraków’s main square. A message on his phone indicated he was to go there after leaving the castle. He still carried the woo
den box containing the Spear of St. Maurice, the walk over through the night crowd uneventful.
Two marines stood guard at the main entrance. Three American flags hanging from the stone above waved an indolent welcome. The soldiers opened the door as he approached, obviously briefed to expect him. Inside, he was ushered past the metal detector and up a steep flight of stairs to a second-floor office where Stephanie and Bunch waited.
He laid the box on a desk.
