Kingdoms Fall - The Laxenburg Message (14 page)

“I follow that, but Salonika is in Greece,
which is still a neutral country.”

“Yes, and furthermore the Queen Regent is the
Kaiser’s sister, so we know how they will feel about British troops landing in their
territory. But the Greek Prime Minister is very popular with the people and he
favors the Entente – well, really, he just favors Great Britain, not so much
France or Russia – which is how they’ve settled uncomfortably into a position
of neutrality.”

“Did you say the King’s wife is the German
Kaiser’s sister?” Gresham asked, quite stunned.

“Yes, Queen Regent Sophie. She’s Prussian, from
the House of Hohenzollern. If I recall correctly, the Greek king’s family is
from Denmark, House of Oldenburg, I believe. Mother would know; she knows all
the royal families.”

“Why aren’t the King and Queen Greek?”

“Greek? No, no. You don’t understand how things
are done at all, David. There was a Convention agreed upon by the great powers (I
refer to Great Britain, France and Russia, of course), eighty or so years ago.
Greece was in chaos after it had won independence from the Ottomans, and King
Otto was enlisted from the nobility of Europe and undertook the responsibility
to bring a stable government to the Greeks. Unfortunately, Otto proved to be a
bit of rake and never had any legitimate children, so he was replaced in 1863
by King Constantine’s father, George. He wasn’t the Greeks’ first choice, but
they took him unanimously after Britain agreed to hand over the Ionian Islands
to the Greek government as well. As you may also recall, King George was
assassinated by an anarchist just two years ago, and that was when his son,
Constantine, ascended to the throne. I was quite sorry, to be honest; I rather
liked King George. We met at King Edward’s funeral at St. George’s Chapel.”

“You were at King Edward’s actual funeral? At
Windsor Castle?”

“Well, yes,” Wilkins replied modestly. “I was
just across the river at Eton then, and my father asked me to join him. I
wasn’t in the procession in London, though. The service at Windsor was rather
long and sad and hot, and the reception following was very subdued, but one
rarely sees so many royals in one place at once anymore – apart from George the
Fifth, there were eight other monarchs there, including the Kaiser, who is King
Edward’s nephew, of course. The Archduke Franz Ferdinand was there too; he was
rather cold and pompous, to my thinking. President Roosevelt – he had just come
from Africa, which sounded marvelous. But I especially enjoyed the King George
from Greece. He knew a great deal about the ruins near Athens; I had a rather
strong interest in archeology then.

“In any event, his son, King Constantine, has
proven to be quite independent-minded and regrettably pro-German. But that is
how things are done. Europe is run by the nobility. Privilege entails to
responsibility, my friend, or so I have been taught.”

“So you’re saying he gets to be King because
some blokes in England picked his name from a silk purse. I honestly don’t see
why the Greeks listen to a word he says.”

“As the anointed monarch, his authority to
govern flows from God Himself. The Divine Right of Kings, David – I would think
you’ve heard of it.”

“Yes, like King Arthur getting Excalibur from
the Lady of the Lake.” Gresham said sarcastically. He took the bottle of rum
from Wilkins.

“Well, the theory rather went out of fashion in
England when William and Mary took the throne from King James in 1689.
Englishmen began to see the crown as a symbol of the power we grant to the
monarchy, rather than the final arbiter of the rights granted to us. It doesn’t
hurt for the king to have the backing of the military either. In Constantine’s
case, for example -”

“I’ve heard enough, mate” he said, and gulped
rum from bottle. “Let’s go shoot something.”

After they had each fired off a few rounds in
the general direction of a stunted oak tree, scared away a trip of goats, and
almost killed the shepherd, the two Captains decided they had perhaps drunk too
much rum to practice shooting any longer. As they walked back to town, Wilkins
was quiet and clearly thinking about something important. They stopped at the
café to purchase another bottle of rum, and settled down against the sunny side
of the building.

Wilkins finally spoke up: “David, I’m ashamed
to say that I am rather grateful not to be going back to the front lines. I
thought it would all be rather tactical, maneuvering the men about and so
forth. I was rather stupid, I suppose.”

“You’re no different than most of the officers,
James, and frankly steadier than most that I’ve seen.”

“Is it the same on the Western Front?”

“In many ways it was worse on the Western
Front, but at least there you can get away from the front lines from time to
time. On the peninsula, there’s nowhere for the men to pull back.”

“When the Germans gassed the lines at Ypres,
how bad was it?”

Gresham was silent a moment. It was an
experience he didn’t wish to remember. “Why do you wish to know?” he growled.

“It’s just that I can’t imagine how they could
do it.”

“The French used chemicals first – tear gas,
they call it.”

“Yes, but the gas they used wasn’t intended to
kill. It was used to force the Germans out of the trenches. To use a gas to
purposefully kill men, it’s horrifying.”

“When the Germans gassed the trenches at
Gravenstafel Ridge, the Frenchmen mostly just tried to get out of the trenches
to get away from the gas and they were shot as they retreated. I was in a
bunker, and we were sealed in tight when a shell collapsed the trench wall. We
didn’t even know the gas had come. When we finally dug our way out, we saw the
bodies and knew at once what had happened. It was very bad. The gas tends to
settle low in the trenches so I inhaled only a little, but it felt like my eyes
were on fire and my lungs were full of boiling water. I didn’t get it too bad,
thankfully. The Regiment was already transferring some of the officers down to
the new Divisions in Alexandria, and someone thought the warm, dry air would do
me good.”

“But I just think that to use gas that way, it
can only mean the Germans don’t want to simply win the war. It’s as if they
want to exterminate their enemies altogether.”

Wilkins’ comment reminded Gresham of the
Armenians in Asia Minor. Is that what the Ottoman Turks wanted? To
“exterminate” the Armenians? Not all the Turks, surely. Enver Pasha and his
pals, they were another story. “Well, someone does, maybe,” said Gresham. “Some
believe the end justifies the means.”

“No, that’s not what I am saying. It’s as if
they believe they have the right to eradicate those men they consider to be
inferior. There’s been quite a fashion to talk about ‘purifying’ Europe of what
are considered the ‘inferior’ races.”

“You’re not making me feel better; I’m
half-Irish, remember.” However, sitting in the sun with a bottle of rum inside
them and another in hand made it difficult not to feel good. The café had
wonderful grilled meat skewers, and before long Gresham and Wilkins were
feasting on lamb, flat breads, fresh vegetables, and a simple local sauce made
from goat’s milk called
yoghurti
. Then they filled themselves with
handfuls of rich, sweet pastries made from nuts and honey and drank Turkish
coffee and a local liqueur flavored with anise until long after dark. At last,
they staggered together back to the small tent they shared just outside the
walls of the old fortress. Wilkins lit a candle. He was trying to teach Gresham
how to play bridge, and they played late into the night.

T
he Cambridge
was the finest hotel in
Athens that catered to British guests, and the men’s lounge was particularly
dark, stuffy and hot. Gresham and Wilkins were sitting, in uniform, at a small
table drinking whisky, smoking cigarettes, and playing dominos with a British
ex-patriot who had just returned from a trip to Barcelona. “Barcelona is
wonderful,” the gentleman said. “There was a lovely little senorita in the
house across from
The Majestik
. I tell you the loveliest girls in Spain
are in Barcelona. I do hope you fellows get a chance to visit. How long will
you be staying in Athens?”

“Captain Wilkins here wishes to visit the
archeological sites, Mister Penniworth, so we’re leaving in a day or two to
travel about the countryside,” said Gresham.

“How terrible, terrible, when there’s so much
to do in Athens right now: Lovely ladies to be found for those who know where
to look. Seems to me they would be of interest to you young officers, eh what?
I’d be delighted to show you about. There are several excellent houses where I
know the proprietors personally, and you may take your pick.”

“You are most kind, sir,” said Wilkins, who had
gone quite red in the face. “I regret we have other plans for this evening.”

“I am so sorry to hear that, really. Tell me of
your trip from Egypt? Uneventful, I hope?”

 “On the contrary, the trip from Egypt
will likely prove to be the most exciting part of our journey,” said Gresham.
“Did Captain Wilkins not tell you about the underwater boat that followed us?”

“No, indeed, he did not.”

“Let me just say that, for once, I was deeply
grateful we were not aboard a British transport, for shortly after we departed
Alexandria on the ferry, our trail was picked up by one of the German U-boats.
At first, only its scope was in view, some two hundred yards astern. It was the
middle of the evening, and Wilkins and I were playing cards with some Americans
below decks. When the alarm was rung, we thought the ship was about to go down
any moment and hurried to find our life vests and make our way onto the deck.
Then the U-boat rose to the water’s surface like a great whale, and old Fritz
made no further disguise of himself. He followed us at two hundred yards or so
throughout the voyage, all the way across the sea to Athens. We had to spend the
entire journey on the deck in our life vests sitting beside the captain’s gig
as he expected any moment we would be torpedoed and sunk.”

“Good heavens, in all my travels in the
Mediterranean, I’ve never had the misfortune of seeing one of the German craft,
much less to have it follow me, my word.”

“The ship’s captain was quite apologetic and
became extremely generous with the whisky above-decks so we made quite a party
of it,” added Wilkins.

“Now, you boys must be equally careful
traveling about the countryside in Greece,” warned Penniworth. “As you know, it
is still a neutral country, but only because the affections of its people are
so deeply divided. In most places, yes, British officers will be received with
favor, but in some pockets where the King still holds some gasp of approval,
the sight of British officers may enrage the locals to acts of violence. If you
feel in the least uncomforted, I advise you to retreat double-time.”

“Your advice is most welcome, sir,” said
Wilkins.

“Now in Corfu, if you go to Corfu and you
should because Corfu is a lovely place for Englishmen to visit, there is a
house on Lemonia Square in the old town, a yellow house with green shutters.
You must not miss it. Outside Athens, you will find there the most charming
young ladies in Greece. There was a lovely girl I met there once, Sirena was
her name then. Very enthusiastic, if you know what I mean.”

“You are a font of wisdom, Mister Penniworth,”
said Gresham.

“Well, I must be off myself, gentlemen,” said
Penniworth with a wink, “but it’s been a pleasure chatting with you boys.
Hopefully I will see you about tomorrow.”

“Perhaps,” said Wilkins, obstinately keeping
his seat as the gentleman rose to depart. Gresham stood.

“Thank you, Mister Penniworth,” he said with a
broad smile. “We shall see.”

“Good God, I feared the man would not take ‘no’
for an answer,” said Wilkins, when Mister Penniworth had departed the room.

“He’s just a man of business, James.”

“Nothing but whores on three continents!”

“I dearly hope the day will come when his sort
of information is of greater interest to you, James. We have been at the front
quite a while, you know.”

“I won’t be baited, David. The whole country is
in an uproar and we have our duty.”

“You weren’t listening to Penniworth, then,
James. The Greeks are more than unhappy about the war. They’re damned afraid of
what Bulgaria will do. They love this Prime Minister of theirs because they
believe he will protect them. And who
won’t
protect them? Their King!
They hate him!”

“He would hardly be the first reigning monarch
whose policies conflict with the whims of his subjects,” said Wilkins,
dismissively.

“No, of course, not. There’s Louis the
Sixteenth, for example-”

“You’re exaggerating.”

“And you are enamored of nobility because you owe
your position and wealth to it.”

“That is unfair. It is because of my family
that I understand how the world really works, far more than the masses that
cheer and wave at passing royal motorcades and hang portraits of the King in
their windows. When I was a lad, we traveled through Europe several times and I
met many of the noble families. My mother knows absolutely everyone. My very
earliest memory, I shall never forget, I was playing in the sands on the shore
at Nice. I saw a beautiful woman splashing in the waters. She emerged like
Venus in her soaked bathing dress to towel her hair, and I clearly recall the
look of simple pleasure on her face. My mother told me with some awe that she
was the Empress Elisabeth of Austria, but it struck me even then how little the
trappings of nobility truly distinguish an Empress from any commoner. She
simply toweled her hair and sat under the shade to read her book. A few weeks
after, she was assassinated in Geneva.”