1636： The Saxon Uprising ARC - By Eric Flint Page 0,172
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 But I want those disqualifications rescinded.”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.”