Eric Flint: 1636:The Saxon Uprising

"Yes, yes," said Gustav Adolf. "As you can see, I am adopting an up-time custom. We will actually have a private meeting."

The emperor was sitting in a very large and very comfortable-looking armchair. Another one, equally large and comfortable-looking, was positioned a few feet away, angled toward his own. A low table sat between them, with a pot and two cups on it. There was also a bowl of sugar and a small pitcher of cream.

"Your preference is coffee, if I recall correctly. Black, no cream or sugar."

"Yes, Your Majesty. Thank you."

Gustav Adolf lifted the pot and poured them both a cup. As he did so, he waved his hand. "Please, Michael. I think we would do better to keep this informal. Call me Gustav, if you would."

Mike nodded and sat down. This was…interesting. Also unexpected. His relations with the king of Sweden had always been cordial, except in the heat of negotiations, but never what you'd call intimate. They'd been friendly but not friends. Was Gustav Adolf seeking to change that?

If so, Mike was certainly willing-provided the change didn't come at too high a price. The emperor would want something in return, of course. Mike didn't fault him for that. It was a given that an emperor wants something, unless he's incompetent.

He decided the best tactic was to cut right to the chase.

"Why don't we begin by you telling the thing you want most from me that you think I'm most likely to object to, Gustav." He picked up his cup and took a sip. The coffee was superb, as you'd expect.

The emperor smiled, as he stirred some sugar into his own cup and added some cream. "Very well. We're going to need a new election soon, obviously. The existing parliament has lost all credibility with the nation." His pleasant expression darkened for a moment. "It has certainly lost it with me."

"Until he loses a vote of confidence, Wilhelm is under no legal obligation to call for new elections," Mike pointed out. "And he can stall holding a new session of parliament for some time, given the current…ah, chaos."

His own expression darkened a little. "If for no other reason, he can argue that your disqualification of dozens of Crown Loyalist MPs requires that special elections be held in those districts to elect new representatives before any full session of parliament can be called. And I'd have to say I'd agree with him. Before we go any further, by the way, I'm giving you notice that I plan to contest that issue with you very strenuously. Privately, I'll agree that those people are worthless bums and had it coming. But I can't agree to allowing the emperor the right to unilaterally declare any MP to be disqualified from office. That power needs to be reserved for the parliament alone."

Before the emperor could respond, Mike raised his hand. "I don't ask that you do it immediately. That would make it seem as if you were caving in from pressure coming from me. By all means, wait a week or two. Wait a month, if need be. But I want those disqualifications rescinded."

In times past that would probably have led to one of their frequent clashes. A bit to Mike's surprise, after an initial stiffening of his back, Gustav Adolf visibly made himself relax. He even took another sip of coffee before replying.

"Let us leave that aside for the moment. In terms of what we were discussing, it's not relevant. I've already spoken to Wilhelm-just two days ago, in this very room-and he assured me he plans to call for new elections before the month is over."

Mike took a sip from his own coffee, while he thought that over. No one in the Fourth of July Party had known that Wettin planned such early elections. Mike knew that for a certainty because he had come here from his own house, which doubled as FoJP headquarters, after spending the first two hours of the morning discussing the political situation with his wife and several other leading figures in the party.

Interesting. Among other things, it indicated that Wilhelm Wettin was going to take the high road, so to speak, rather than engage in maneuvers that might be tactically effective in the short run but would be deleterious in the long run. Perhaps he'd learned something from the whole experience.

"Very well. What do you want from me, then?"

"I want you to step down as leader of your party. I do not want you to run for prime minister again. Let someone else take your place. I want you to stay in the army."

Mike hesitated. It was so tempting…

But, no. He'd be making that same mistake. Undoubtedly the oldest mistake in the political book and probably the most destructive. You always needed to think in the long term. Stabilizing and strengthening the new relationship that Gustav Adolf was seeking with him was more important than gaining a temporary advantage in negotiations.

"Ask for something else, Gustav. That one's a freebie. Ah, 'freebie' means-"

"I know what it means." The emperor cocked his head quizzically. "But I'm not sure I understand the term in this context."

"I was not planning to run for prime minister anyway. I made that decision before I even got here. Since I arrived, I've spent several hours discussing it with my wife and several other close political associates. We're all agreed it would be best if I didn't run again."

Clearly, the emperor had not anticipated that answer. He took a moment to finish his coffee.

"I am surprised," he said, after setting down the cup. "You could win, you know. Quite easily, I think. Your popularity is at an all-time high in the nation." He chuckled. "It's that 'Prince of Germany' business."

Mike shrugged. "Yes, I know-but that's also the problem. I've become too…what's the word? 'Princely,' I guess. I make too many people nervous, on the one hand. And on the other-which I think may be worse-I make too many other people too ambitious."

" 'Too ambitious'? What do you mean?"

He gave Gustav Adolf a level stare. "You know perfectly damn well what I mean. A prime minister had a clearly delineated position within the law. Powerful, but limited. A prince…has no clear limits. He might be capable of anything. What produces fear in some quarters can produce delusions of grandeur in another. Well, not that, exactly. I'd have to be the one with delusions of grandeur, and while I have my faults, that's just not one of them. But some of my supporters would get too…enthusiastic, let's say."

Neither one of them said anything for perhaps half a minute. Then Gustav Adolf sighed softly and slumped a bit in his chair.

"Thank you for that, Michael. Yes, that is exactly where my fears lay." He took a slow, deep breath and let it out. "Who would you run then?"

"We haven't decided yet. Either Strigel or Piazza. But since Ed isn't here yet, we can't make any final decision."

The emperor smiled a bit crookedly. "My own preference would be your wife, actually. But I suppose that's impractical."

Mike's smile was not crooked at all. "Leaving aside the fact that the Germanies are not ready for a Jewess as prime minister, Becky would have a fit if anyone proposed it. She doesn't like being in the limelight."

He finished his own coffee. "And it wouldn't be a good idea anyway-although I agree with you that she'd be superb in the office. The problem is that prince business again. Too many people-both those overly fearful as well as those overly rambunctious-would assume that she was simply my surrogate."

He shook his head. "No, it's got to be either Matthias or Ed."

"Of the two, my own recommendation would be Piazza."

"Privately, I agree. I'm curious though, Gustav. What's your reasoning?"

"Two factors are critical, I think. The first is that I believe the nation would find it a bit reassuring to have an up-timer in the position of prime minister. In a peculiar sort of way, you provide the same sort of…call it 'distance,' that a royal family provides. You came from so far away that people think-not entirely foolishly, either-that you are a bit removed from the petty factionalism of everyday politics."