Fire Warms the Northern Lands -- A Prussian AAR

A Succession of Questions (Part 5 of 15)

It had been a long day by early afternoon. KronPrinz Waldemar had followed his Father’s casket procession from the Kaiser’s palace to the cathedral, and then on to the mausoleum where Kaiser Wilhelm II’s body would reside forever.

Rensselaer and Longanecker were waiting when an exhausted Waldemar loped to the end of the procession on his horse. Major Korenyi-Both peered down on them from his vantage point on top of the nearest building, watching protectively over his best friend with a long-barreled rifle.

Waldemar had remained upright in his saddle all day, in his silver cuirass and its heavy helmet with its exquisite royal plumage. He was physically spent.

“Thank heaven,” Rensselaer said. “Very well done, Your Majesty.” There was almost no awkwardness, now, when Rensselaer called him by his presumed title. “Your bearing was very imperial, through and through.”

Longanecker helped him down from his saddle.

Waldemar seemed detached, and lost in his thoughts. Aloof. Rensselaer wasn’t sure what to say. He was a political advisor, not a personal counselor. He stood nearby, ready if his KronPrinz – his soon-to-be sovereign – needed him. Finally, Waldemar seemed to take a deep breath, and turned to approach Rensselaer.

“Renss,” he began. “I had a lot of time to think, up there, while riding today.”

“I can imagine, Your Majesty.”

“I felt like a different person,” Waldemar said. “I felt like these peoples’ Kaiser.” He gestured out at the crowds, behind the screen of soldiers, some of whom raised their hands or voices when he seemed to acknowledge them. He rounded, slowly, gently, on Rensselaer, and looked him in the eye closely. “I am not a little boy.”

Rensselaer’s eyes went wide, and he recoiled, slightly. “Why of course not…”

Wally cut him off with a wave of his hand. “Renss, I value your counsel because you have a sense for what’s appropriate, and you have the resolve to see it through.”

Rensselaer received the praise graciously, and did not turn it away. He prided himself in that service. He bowed, ever so slightly, but waited apprehensively for what would come next.

The KronPrinz looked down for a moment, then back. “My Father told me that. He said that he had made a mistake, and he was sorry for having not appreciated your counsel when you were his Foreign Minister.”

The elderly man’s mouth worked. What to say? “I… I did not realize. I think he tried to tell me, once, but…”

“I need you to serve me like you served my Father. I need you to point me the way, and tell me when I’m wrong.” He paused. “But you are treating me like a KronPrinz, and not like a Kaiser. If I am to be Kaiser, I must play the part, like I did today. I,” Wally peered off into the distance. “I am a Hohenzollern – a member of a proud family that has never shirked its duty. My Father knew his duty, and my brother…” His recent relatives had died doing their duty. “I know the battlefield, and I know the dangers. And I know I must go forward.”

Rensselaer bowed, accepting the gentle rebuke. “Your Majesty… I believe you are correct. And I am sorry.”

“I know you want me to go back to the tunnel until the danger is past. But I don’t dare. I have to be out there for the people to see. So they know they have a Kaiser who they can be proud of.”

Smiling, Rensselaer said, “They will have a Kaiser they can be proud of. In you. But only if he survives long enough to take the throne.”

“Albrecht hasn’t been hiding. Or Kalkhorst. Or even Grolitz.”

“Your Majesty, they have the luxury of knowing that we don’t play the way they do. That we won’t have them assassinated.”

“Do they know that? For certain?” Waldemar glanced up at Korenyi, on the rooftop, but quickly looked ashamed and looked away. “I can’t hide anymore, Renss. I have to be at the reins of power if I intend to keep them.”

“I believe you are correct.” Rensselaer said again, trying to decide how to recommend Waldemar could do that, with relative safety. “If you will take the tunnel, once more, we can place you inside your residence, where they cannot practically reach you. You will become a prisoner, of sorts, but not to appearances. Then again, if you need to leave, we always have the tunnel.” Waldemar seemed to appreciate the advice. “Your Father was an exception, but your Grandfather never really left his residence a great deal. There is nothing which says the Kaiser must be moving about to be Kaiser. It might work quite well to have you in place at the KronPrinz’ palace.”

“Then let’s do it,” The KronPrinz ordered, and began to turn away.

“Your Majesty…” Rensselaer took a deep breath of his own. Wally stopped and regarded him. “I pledge my eternal service to you. I… I believe I may have failed your Father.”

“My Father turned you against him, Renss.”

Rensselaer pursed his lips. “No. Afterward, I mean. He tried to ask me to come back, and I would not. I could have displaced Holstein and Bülow. But I was too proud. I suppose, perhaps, I have some responsibility for the situation you find yourself in now – for their holding onto the power they are using to challenge you.”

Waldemar smiled, warmly, but did not contradict Rensselaer’s admissions. “Then you can help me undo what was done. I need you.” He placed his hand on Rensselaer’s shoulder, the way his Father had, once. “And I am a very fortunate man to have you at my side.”

Indeed... I may tell you, as part of the "Fire Warms" canon, that Renss will not survive until the end.

'Course, you're all presuming that he'll live past this week!

I will try to post the next scene this afternoon/evening. Trying to keep up a tempo, for this subplot, of one update per day... we'll see if I can keep it up!

Renss

A Succession of Questions (Part 6 of 15)

Just as tobacco smoke clung to the ceiling of the private library, so did tension cling to those gathered.

Every noise, even the setting down of a pen or whiskey glass, drew most every eye. They glanced, furtively. It was dangerous to be part of this cabal. They met at the home of a courageous friend of one of the Reichstag deputies.

The KronPrinz might be safe in his palace, but he could only issue orders from there. And be a symbol, for what that was worth, which was a lot. Their telephones were monitored, so to accomplish most practical actions and results, someone had to travel outside.

The public was anxiously aware of a power struggle underway. But, short of rash acts of bravery, there was little they could do. This was a big man’s game. And a war of wills raged, quietly, behind the scenes. It was the quiet application of various means of power – overt and covert – by means noble and less so. Anyone on the KronPrinz’ side whose role required they move around was at risk.

But they hadn’t a reliable measure of how dangerous. Rumors ranged from beatings of liberals to vanished ministers and newspapermen. Rensselaer had ventured that the missing people had simply gone into hiding, as had the KronPrinz… For that matter, as had they, themselves, in a sense. They appeared only when necessary, and usually in disguise. The fact remained that one Kaiser was dead, at whose hand, ultimately they could not say. And a coup, of sorts, was obviously underway, though no one could say how desperate the plotters were.

Deputy Richard Oëster had been the last of them to arrive, to complete the party. He was a welcome addition. As chief deputy of the LiberalDemokratietPartei, he was a powerful man in terms of the votes and influence he brokered in the Reichstag. But one would not know his stature from the way he surrepititiously wiped at the sweat beaded on his forehead.

“I invited a guest,” Oëster said.

All eyes fixed on him sharply, some in fear and some in anger. They all froze.

“You will be glad when you see him,” Oëster assured them.

They didn’t seem to agree. “You should have asked us first!” Deputy Gerhard Niemann admonished sternly. He was one of the few senior Konservatives, like Rensselaer, who actively supported Waldemar.

“You…” Oëster ducked his head. “You would have told me no.”

Dempewolf made a vexed sound, and stood. His size, not all of it fat, and deep-set brows gave him a commanding appearance. “Let us depart, and reconvene elsewhere. I do not like surprises!”

Rensselaer waved him down, casually, though he didn’t look pleased, either. “Who is it, Richard?’

There was a knock at the door, and Oëster remained silent. Suddenly alarmed, Joachim Longanecker jumped up and strode urgently toward the frontroom with his pistol drawn.

He almost collided with the owner of the home, who was conducting their new guest into the library. Longanecker relaxed, and holstered his gun.

With expressions of shock, the assembled men watched as Philipp Eulenburg walked in. He just stood there with a sheepish grin on his face, mindful that he could call none of these men a friend, and aware of the conflicted emotions his presence must necessarily evoke.

Avernite said:

ehm, who was Eulenburg again?

But I'm fairly sure he was one of the anti-Renss crowd, given their reaction

Click to expand...

Eulenburg really hasn't been around much, except in the background. He appeared in minor parts in a couple of scenes as a very close friend of the Kaiser (Wilhelm II). He kind of took the position as back door advisor to Wilhelm II that Renss had held in previous administrations.

And Eulenburg was, generally, anti-Renss. He was part of the crowd that muscled Renss aside and replaced him -- Eulenburg, Kalkhorst, Holstein, Bulow. But some of his recent minor appearances had placed him at odds with Holstein (most recently, having called him "an ass" for his whole North Africa exploits). The judgment of historians -- Dr. Herz in particular -- has been that Eulenburg was a sincere friend of Wilhelm and that he meant to do right by him, even if he did bring the Kaiser into contact with the wrong crowd.

Eulenburg, too, is a historical figure, and quite as complicated in real life as here. Though in real life he did not have to face such a power struggle as this!

Rensslaer