Fall of Giants

Otto said: “And what did he have to say?”

“He proposed a four-power conference to mediate between Austria and Serbia.”

Von Kessel said: “Waste of time.”

Walter ignored him and asked his father: “What do you think?”

Otto narrowed his eyes. “Interesting,” he said. “Grey is crafty.”

Walter could not hide his enthusiasm. “Do you think the Austrian emperor might agree?”

“Absolutely not.”

Von Kessel snickered.

Walter was crushed. “But why?”

Otto said: “Suppose the conference proposes a solution and Austria rejects it?”

“Grey mentioned that. He said Austria would not be obliged to accept the conference recommendation.”

Otto shook his head. “Of course not-but what then? If Germany is part of a conference that makes a peace proposal, and Austria rejects our proposal, how could we then back the Austrians when they go to war?”

“We could not.”

“So Grey’s purpose in making this suggestion is to drive a wedge between Austria and Germany.”

“Oh.” Walter felt foolish. He had seen none of this. His optimism was punctured. Dismally, he said: “So we won’t support Grey’s peace plan?”

“Not a chance,” said his father.

{III}

Sir Edward Grey’s proposal came to nothing, and Walter and Maud watched, hour by hour, as the world lurched closer to disaster.

The next day was Sunday, and Walter met with Anton. Once again everyone was desperate to know what the Russians would do. The Serbians had given in to almost every Austrian demand, only asking for more time to discuss the two harshest clauses; but the Austrians had announced that this was unacceptable, and Serbia had begun to mobilize its little army. There would be fighting, but would Russia join in?

Walter went to the church of St. Martin-in-the-Fields, which was not in the fields but in Trafalgar Square, the busiest traffic junction in London. The church was an eighteenth-century building in the Palladian style, and Walter reflected that his meetings with Anton were giving him an education in the history of English architecture as well as information about Russian intentions.

He mounted the steps and passed through the great pillars into the nave. He looked around anxiously: at the best of times he was afraid Anton might not show up, and this would be the worst possible moment for the man to get cold feet. The interior was brightly lit by a big Venetian window at the east end, and he spotted Anton immediately. Relieved, he sat next to the vengeful spy a few seconds before the service began.

As always, they talked during the hymns. “The Council of Ministers met on Friday,” Anton said.

Walter knew that. “What did they decide?”

“Nothing. They only make recommendations. The tsar decides.”

Walter knew that, too. He controlled his impatience. “Excuse me. What did they recommend?”

“To permit four Russian military districts to prepare for mobilization.”

“No!” Walter’s cry was involuntary, and the hymn singers nearby turned and stared at him. This was the first preliminary to war. Calming himself with an effort, Walter said: “Did the tsar agree?”

“He ratified the decision yesterday.”

Despairingly, Walter said: “Which districts?”

“Moscow, Kazan, Odessa, and Kiev.”

During the prayers, Walter pictured a map of Russia. Moscow and Kazan were in the middle of that vast country, a thousand miles and more from its European borders, but Odessa and Kiev were in the southwest, near the Balkans. In the next hymn he said: “They are mobilizing against Austria.”

“It’s not mobilization-it’s preparation for mobilization.”

“I understand that,” said Walter patiently. “But yesterday we were talking about Austria attacking Serbia, a minor Balkan conflict. Today we’re talking about Austria and Russia, and a major European war.”

The hymn ended, and Walter waited impatiently for the next one. He had been brought up by a devout Protestant mother, and he always suffered a twinge of conscience about using church services as a cover for his clandestine work. He said a brief prayer for forgiveness.

When the congregation began to sing again, Walter said: “Why are they in such a hurry to make these warlike preparations?”

Anton shrugged. “The generals say to the tsar: ‘Every day you delay gives the enemy an advantage.’ It’s always the same.”

“Don’t they see that the preparations make the war more likely?”

“Soldiers want to win wars, not avoid them.”

The hymn ended and the service came to a close. As Anton stood up, Walter held his arm. “I have to see you more often,” he said.

Anton looked panicky. “We’ve been through that-”

“I don’t care. Europe is on the brink of war. You say the Russians are preparing to mobilize in some districts. What if they authorize other districts to prepare? What other steps will they take? When does preparation turn into the real thing? I have to have daily reports. Hourly would be better.”

“I can’t take the risk.” Anton tried to withdraw his arm.

Walter tightened his grip. “Meet me at Westminster Abbey every morning before you go to your embassy. Poet’s Corner, in the south transept. The church is so big that no one will notice us.”