Kingdoms Fall - The Laxenburg Message (29 page)

           
“Would you care for one?” He asked Wilkins.

           
“No, thank you.”

           
Both “Kelly” and “Kruger” worked for König Verlag, one of the great old
publishing houses of Geneva. König Verlag had recently been acquired by an
American bank on behalf of a consortium of its depositors (all of whom were
members of the British House of Lords). It was a highly respected publisher of
fine books, and it would continue to be so. However, König Verlag had also
recently “employed” a small number of individuals who were “writing books” on
such arcane subjects as the German aviation industry, developments in Austrian
agriculture, and the lesser-known political parties in Russia. As such, the
publisher provided the necessary credentials and an adequate justification for
Gresham and Wilkins to enter Austria and to make their way to Vienna first
class.

           
The three-full-day trip (lengthy stops for baggage inspection and questioning
included) had indeed been first class. Even the fine hotel they enjoyed in Geneva
for the Christmas holiday was penurious compared to the Imperial State Railway.
Wilkins, while not unaccustomed to excellent service, fine linens, sterling
silver, and Dresden china, was quite impressed. For Gresham, it was an
eye-opening experience: They had brought no servants, so the railway provided
them; Gresham had forgotten his crate of Irish whisky, so the railway sent a
car back to Geneva to fetch it; the sumptuous six-course meals were served with
the finest wines; and even the border authorities were warned not to overly
antagonize passengers traveling first class. It was almost assumed that if you
could afford it, then of course you had every reason to be going to Vienna. But
to Gresham, the opulence was disorienting and seemed antiquated.

           
From the train window, Vienna emerged before them like an ice-crystal
fairyland. Throughout most of their journey in Austria, the authorities had
required the window blinds to be kept down, presumably to obscure the war
preparations being undertaken in various areas along the train’s route. On the
outskirts of Vienna, however, the blinds had been lifted and the city had
presented itself gloriously: A light snow shroud and sheet of ice coated the
magnificent buildings, parks, and streets of the city as the train arrived at
the Westbahnhof at dusk. The Emperor, His Imperial and Royal Apostolic Majesty
Franz Joseph, had invested many years into modernizing the city of Vienna. The
bastions and glacis of the old city had been transformed into the modern
Ringstrasse, an elegant boulevard that accommodated many of the fine
Gräf
& Stift
automobiles as well as parks, palaces, concert halls and art
houses. With the curtain walls removed, the towns surrounding Vienna had been
absorbed into the metropolis and many areas renovated with running water and
electricity as the city modernized for the Twentieth Century. Yet still the
elegance of the old city remained as if preserved under glass.

           
Gresham and Wilkins prepared to disembark and make quite a show of themselves.
Their strategy was to be blatantly ostentatious, in the belief that only spies
would skitter about like rats in the dark. Everything they did and said would
be completely out in the open, and anyone who chose to watch them was welcome
to do so. This had worked perfectly well on the Imperial State Railway, but
now, in Westbahnhof station as they disembarked, three uniformed Austrian
officers were waiting to greet them. One, an extremely tall, muscular and
cruel-looking Colonel, stepped forward. He did not offer his hand, but said
bluntly, with no note of hospitality in his voice:

           
“
Guten Tag, Herr Kelly und Herr Kruger. Ich bin Oberst von Stumm. Ich
bedauere, dass müssen wir sie bitten, mit uns in unser büro kommen, um den
grund, warum sie nach Wien gekommen diskutieren und bestätigen sie ihre
anmeldeinformationen. Es sollte eine kleine zeit. Bitte folgen sie mir
.”

           
“Can you tell him I don’t speak German,” Gresham said loudly to Wilkins.

           
“We have been invited to another interview, I’m afraid,” Wilkins replied. Then
to Colonel von Stumm he said imperiously: “
Wir freuen uns, ihnen unsere
zusammenarbeit. Allerdings haben mein kollege und ich ein abendessen engagement
bei Meissl und Schadn. Wir würden uns freuen, wenn Sie nicht halten uns wartet.
Übrigens, mein kollege nicht Deutsch sprechen. Nur Englisch und Gälisch
.”

           
“
Und sprechen sie auch Englisch
?”

           
“
Natürlich. Wie sonst könnten wir zusammen arbeiten
?”

           
“Very well, then I will attempt the English. Come. We have questions for you.”
The Colonel led Wilkins and Gresham to a dim corridor and into a brightly lit
windowless office. The two other Austrian soldiers followed and stood guard
outside the door.

“Sit,” the Colonel commanded. He towered above
Gresham and Wilkins as they sat next to each other at the plain wooden table.
The Colonel could barely fit in his uniform because of his massive muscles, but
that raised a question in Gresham’s mind as to why such a supreme physical specimen
was not serving at the front. Gresham assumed the Colonel must be very smart or
had been very brave to receive a comfortable job in Vienna away from the
fighting.

“Why are you in Austria?” the Colonel asked.

           
“This is incredible,” said Wilkins haughtily. “Simply incredible. How many
times must we repeat ourselves? We are credentialed journalists, my dear
Colonel. König Verlag has engaged Mister Kelly and myself to write a book about
Archduke Charles. He
will
be the new Emperor ‘ere long, and the whole
world wants to learn something of his tastes, his interests, his family. We are
in Vienna to conduct interviews, nothing more. We have several scheduled in the
next few days, including our first this very evening at
Meissl & Schadn
,
and you are perfectly welcome to attend, to follow us, to read our mail, and to
listen to our telephone calls. We have nothing to hide.”

           
“Who are you to write such a book? Two English-speaking men from Geneva?”

           
“
Wie kannst du es wagen
?!” Wilkins shouted back angrily. “
Ich bin ein
bürger von Deutsch-Ostafrika. Mein vater gegen die Briten kämpfte
.”

           
“
Was ist mit ihm
?”

           
“Mister Kelly is an Irishman. Many of the Irish speak English, or did you not know?
If you had a brain in your head you would give Mister Kelly ten thousand guns
and send him back to Ulster to start a rebellion. But as we have already
provided this information thrice, please either ask us something new or let us
go on our way.”

           
“We are familiar with your articles, Mister Kelly, and I am all the more
surprised to learn that you are now writing books about Austria’s Archduke.
Does Irish independence no long interest you?”

           
“It is a matter of politics,” Gresham replied. “Ireland needs allies, and I
wish to see whether Charles is inclined to view Irish independence favorably.
Of course, the money I am earning for the book is useful in purchasing arms in
America, as well.”

           
“And if money is so short, how do you come to travel first class, then?”

           
“That is my doing,” Wilkins interjected. “I refuse to travel any other way. My
father made quite a bit of money in the Transvaal gold mines, and I am afraid I
am rather accustomed to it. I am paying for Mister Kelly.”

           
“What is your father’s name?”

           
Wilkins stared at Colonel von Stumm coldly. “Kruger, of course.”

           
“I see. And you have comfortable accommodations arranged in Vienna, I suspect? Where
are you staying? And for how long?”

           
“
The Grand
. We plan to stay for two weeks, but we may extend our stay if
the interviews take longer than we have planned.”

           
The Colonel stared at them a few moments and considered his two visitors. It
was reassuring that neither seemed at all evasive. In fact, he was certain the
buffoons would make quite a spectacle of themselves in the Vienna’s social
circles.

           
“I will need a list of the people you intend to interview,” he said. “You will
update me if anyone is to be added to the list. You will not interview anyone
unless we know about it. You will not leave Vienna until it is time for you to
depart Austria. And we will check to see that you are following these rules. If
they are broken, you will be arrested, and either sent to a prison camp or
simply shot as spies.”

He handed Wilkins a sheet of paper and pen.
Wilkins withdrew his own solid gold Montegrappa fountain pen from his jacket (a
gift from Gresham) and wrote down five names, all people they had arranged to
interview while in Geneva. Most of these were minor aristocracy, people who
were unlikely to know any more about Archduke Charles than any member of the
general public. The last name on the list, however, was Prince Xavier of
Bourbon-Parma, the brother of Zita, wife of Charles, heir to the throne of the
Austro-Hungarian Empire.

           
“Have you any idea how little money they are spending on the Balls this year?”
Asked Count von Wilczek. “Why, it is only a fraction of the usual! They
honestly believe that austerity will project sympathy for our soldiers at the
front lines. Well, perhaps so, but it sends exactly the wrong message to our
enemies. Opulence and splendor tell the world that Austria is at the zenith of
its power and fears nothing. While our young men are fighting at the front, we
should celebrate Fasching like the empire of old.”

Count von Wilczek was a portly old gentleman
who had an international reputation for talking too much. He had been willing
to talk to Gresham and Wilkins if they agreed to meet him at the fine
restaurant at
Meissl & Schadn
, one of Vienna’s very best. Indeed,
the Restaurant on the second floor was a marvel of snow-white Damask linens and
fine, intricately etched crystal. “Gentlemen, at
Meissl & Schadn,
you may only have beef,” the Count continued. “They serve a finer beef than
anywhere else in the world. Perhaps, Mister Kelly, you would enjoy the boiled
tenderloin with braised cabbage and potatoes. I assure you, it will far exceed
anything you were ever tasted in Ireland.”

           
“It sounds excellent,” Gresham agreed.

           
“
Meissl & Schadn
raises its own livestock, gentlemen. They are kept
inside a sugar refinery north of the city and fed on molasses and sugar-beet
mash to give their meat its extraordinary sweetness. There are twenty-four
variations of boiled beef, seventy-eight different cuts of beef (which can of
course be prepared in any manner you request), and thirty-six
accompaniments.  Heinrich knows what I have, but please allow me to make a
selection for you.”

“That would be fine,” said Wilkins. “We
understand that the Archduke usually attends very few of the Fasching Balls
even in time of peace. Is that correct?”

           
“Heinrich!” the Count shouted. The heavyset
maître d’hotel
with a thick,
pink face and wide bushy sideburns after the fashion of the Emperor Franz
Joseph himself strode promptly to their table. “My new Irish acquaintance
Mister Kelly will have the
suppenfleisch mit meerrettich. Kruspelspitz für
zwei, und Château Lafite Rothschild, ’98
.”

           
“
Ausgezeichnet
.”

           
“
Und kaviar
,” said Wilkins.

           
“
Nein, wegen des krieges. Darf ich vorschlagen, die consommé
?”

           
“
Nein, nein
,” said Wilkins in disgust. “
Vein schnell, zwei flaschen
.”

           
Heinrich, flustered by the aggressive visitor from Geneva, hurried away.

           
“You must be kind to Heinrich; he is an institution in Vienna.”

           
“You were telling us of the Fasching Balls,” Gresham reminded the Count.

           
“Yes, the Balls,” continued the Count eagerly. “Fasching is a very old
tradition in Vienna, gentlemen, a very honorable and grand tradition. It is the
quintessential celebration of Shrovetide. The main events are, of course,
usually in February leading up to Lent. But the Balls begin in January, and
this year the very first will be held at the Palais Auersperg. Yes, it’s
fortunate Auersperg has that distinction again this year, as I can assure you
it will be anything
but
austere.”

“And the Archduke – will he attend?” Gresham
asked.

“Archduke Charles is likely to attend that one.
He generally comes to the first Ball or two at most and then goes off to hunt
in Laxenburg for a week or two until the main events. Of course, our young
Archduke takes Lent very seriously. He is a deeply religious man.”

           
“Has he had the privilege of meeting the new Pope, His Holiness Pope Benedict,
yet?” Wilkins asked.

           
“No, no. Very difficult to travel to Italy nowadays, as I would think you would
know, especially for an Austrian Archduke, and Pope Benedict was raised to his
esteemed office last autumn, after the war had already commenced. But I do
believe Charles had the honor of meeting with his predecessor, Pope Pius. He
was a great admirer of His Holiness for his opposition to the modernists and
reformers and so forth. The Princess Zita, if I recall correctly, met Pope Leo
once or twice. But Charles likes the old church, the old way of doing things,
triumphans
pompa nobile
and all that. He likes his Catholicism with a great deal of
humility and a dash of suffering, just like his mother, Maria Josepha. Do you
know, she has converted the Palais Augarten into a hospital! Heaven knows
whether it will ever be fit to live in again.”