Conflict of Interest:  Part Four.
by ZuiderZee.  (zuiderzee@hotmail.com)
Women in power for the wrong reasons. 

"You are uncomfortable with me, sir."  


Pfalzgrafin Mathilda's voice was as dry and cold
as the wind around her.  She was a pleasant empress
of decidedly plain and modest attributes.  Even her
appearance was unimposing, but she wore her political
power with ease and grace.  Like a statue.  If any-
thing, she was an honest ruler, lacking in the pre-
tentious flair and aristocratic haughtiness of her 
contemporaries in other lands.  

And so she could look eye to eye with Herzog
Bruellen and expect him to be just as plain.


"Why are you uncomfortable with me?"  


"Nationality, of course, your majesty,"  Bruellen
got the answer out smoothly,  but under his rich
appointments, he squirmed as though supressing
numerous itches.  "It is no contradiction to be a 
strong and loyal prince in your Palatinate and to be
Crenish with unshakable customs.  I have accepted the
reality that I must answer to a woman...to you in
particular, your majesty...and I could make my point
with far greater ease if you were a man.  Most any
man, not even a soldier."

High, gray, ugly walls of granite shielded the
Pfalzgrafin's garden from the chill autumn gusts, 
but the falling oak leaves littered the flagstones
under the leaders feet and the driving storm clouds
in the South obscured the afternoon sun again and 
again, making it seem that time passed much quicker.

False dusks gave way to false dawns.  Bruellen's
long awaited meeting progressed with awful slowness.

Up the gravel path and behind the towering hedges,
the warm, comfortable palace awaited with food and
drink, but Pfalzgrain Mathilda preferred to speak amid
nature.

Bruellen shifted in his restlessness.  His 
many medals jingled with his movements.

Mathilda, in contrast, dressed plainly.  She wore
a long dress which hid her presumably skinny legs.

The puffy sleeves of her gray blouse were bulging with
goosedown, not muscles.  Her slender neck was hidden
under a fur collar; only her face was left exposed to
the elements.  She moved about the garden, snipping
the flowers with a pair of shears--the only blades
she had even been known to carry.

Dark circles denoting sleeplessness ringed her
eyes as she looked at the big Crenish prince.  At
her worst, Mathilda was severe.  She could never be
monstrous, the fire was not in her.  Her smile
showed long ivory-colored teeth.  It was a soured
grin, the expression of one with too-tight shoes.

"Have I answered your question sufficiently,
your majesty?"  Bruellen's tone was harder than
usual.  Didn't this woman have any backbone at all?

In the long gap of silence, Bruellen surveyed
the capital of Zurinthal.  It was magnificent and
virtuous--lacking in warlike glory, but still worthy
of his protection.  To see all this effort and 
splendour in the hands of a woman.  Alone.  The
notion made him sick.

Mathilda was no warrior.

She hand't gone into battle with any regiment to
win or preserve these treasures or any others in the
empire.  She hand't even prepared for battle.  Nor did
she hunt!  Even after his requests to take her to
Crenholtz just for the experience.  The idea of 
going into the deep woods to shoot gamebirds and
foxes was seemingly too adventurous and gory for her.

"I am a mature, responsible leader, Herzog
Bruellen.  I am fair, learned, open to suggestions.
I have only been in power here for three years and my
mandate, despitge my title and holdings, is not
absolute."

Despite his firm atheism, Bruellen thanked God.

"You hate me."

Bruellen hadn't realized he was holding his
breath.  "Pfalzgrafin...I don't hate you.  I for
one, however, would love it if you weren't here now.
Fernbach, Nofzigerstadt, Vreelund, and the other
richer states laud your accomplishments in diplomacy.
My congratulations as well.  I and the rest of the
Crenish do not and cannot give more than the mildest
praise to your overall leadership.  I am a fighting
man, your majesty.  I appoach this empire's enemies
and friends and potential adversaries from the 
position of might.  With all due respect, we in
Crenholtz are of the time-honored opinion that a 
good-natured empirre invites our enemies to take
advantage of us.  You are not too soft.  You are
simply not up to the level of grit and orneriness
that would intimidate an otherwise cautious foe."

"There is nothing mean-spirited and barbaric
in my rule!"  Mathilda waggled the shears at
Bruellen.  The light glinted off the sharp metal.

Nearby, a pair of overfed hounds perked up at
the raising of her voice, but remained seated,  their
heads pointed in her direction.  They blinked dumbly and
in a moment, settled back down.

Bruellen had never seen either of the big dogs
so much as growl or bristle.

"I trust then, your majesty, you firmly rely
on your princes to convey any threat you might have."

"My rule is not about threats, bullying and
superiority games."

"And our enemies...I trust you know who I'm
referring to when I say enemies...know this as well.
And they rub their respective hands in anticipation,
already gloating over what they might gain."

"Herzog Bruellen, your aggression repulses me.
Your constant preoccupation with force and the 
escalation of militancy in your state.  You're not
taking up the slack of the others...you know your
peers, you know what is expected of the other princes.
What of the future?  The future of this Palatinate.
I have to use strength to hold it together.  I don't
require anyone on the inside to carelessly shred to
bits what I've linked together.  My connections are
diplomatic and humane.  I trust my appointees.  I
trust you.  And you must trust me.  The necessity of
living in peace and prosperity, however soft and
comfortable it may seem...takes tremendous courage
and energy...none of which I am happy to say stems
from my ability or inability to sword, kick and ride
down those around me."

Bruellen didn't hide his displeasure.  "Her
majesty may rely on Crenholtz to act in the best
interests of the empire if you're wrong.  Is there
anything else?"

"Your pupil,  Ustreed Hormgrud.  How is she
performing?"  Mathilda resumed trimming the flowers.

"As in the fields that please you, your majesty,
she is outstanding.  In battle, she has not yet met
my expectations.  She is not ready to take command of
any one of our strongholds.  I set lofty standards
for my people.  I am accustomed to disappoinments, 
but not complete failures.  Therefore, I have 
doubled the strenuousness of her militaryy and 
physical training.  When the ememy comes against
her position, she will do more than read them the
fine print of the national charter."


"You may go, herzog.  Return to Crenholtz.  You
are a brutish antagonist and a dangerous fanatic."

"I would desire all my critics to think of me
in such terms.  Thank you!"

End of Part Four.