Fall of Giants

Fitz shrugged. “A newborn will not know the difference.”

Maud felt tears come. “When is the baby due?”

“January,” said Fitz. “Why are you so upset?”

“Fitz,” Maud said, and she was weeping helplessly now. “Fitz, will you still be alive?”

{II}

Saturday morning at the German embassy was frenzied. Walter was in the ambassador’s room, fielding phone calls, bringing in telegrams, and taking notes. It would have been the most exciting time of his life, had he not been so worried about his future with Maud. But he could not enjoy the thrill of being a player in a great international power game, because he was tortured by the fear that he and the woman he loved would become enemies in war.

There were no more friendly messages between Willy and Nicky. Yesterday afternoon the German government had sent a cold ultimatum to the Russians, giving them twelve hours to halt the mobilization of their monstrous army.

The deadline had passed with no reply from St. Petersburg.

Yet Walter still believed the war could be confined to eastern Europe, so that Germany and Britain might remain friends. Ambassador Lichnowsky shared his optimism. Even Asquith had said that France and Britain could be spectators. After all, neither country was much involved in the future of Serbia and the Balkan region.

France was the key. Berlin had sent a second ultimatum yesterday afternoon, this one to Paris, asking the French to declare themselves neutral. It was a slender hope, though Walter clung to it desperately. The ultimatum expired at noon. Meanwhile, Chief of Staff Joseph Joffre had demanded immediate mobilization of the French army, and the cabinet was meeting this morning to decide. As in every country, Walter thought gloomily, army officers were pressing their political masters to take the first steps to war.

It was frustratingly difficult to guess which way the French would jump.

At a quarter to eleven, with seventy-five minutes to go before time ran out for France, Lichnowsky received a surprise visitor: Sir William Tyrrell. A key official with long experience in foreign affairs, he was private secretary to Sir Edward Grey. Walter showed him into the ambassador’s room immediately. Lichnowsky motioned for Walter to stay.

Tyrrell spoke German. “The foreign secretary has asked me to let you know that a council of ministers taking place just now may result in his being able to make a statement to you.”

This was obviously a rehearsed speech, and Tyrrell’s German was perfectly fluent, but all the same his meaning escaped Walter. He glanced at Lichnowsky and saw that he, too, was baffled.

Tyrrell went on: “A statement that may, perhaps, prove helpful in preventing the great catastrophe.”

That was hopeful but vague. Walter wanted to say Get to the point!

Lichnowsky replied with the same strained diplomatic formality. “What indication can you give me of the subject of the statement, Sir William?”

For God’s sake, Walter thought, we’re talking about life and death here!

The civil servant spoke with careful precision. “It may be that, if Germany were to refrain from attacking France, then both France and Great Britain might consider whether they were truly obliged to intervene in the conflict in eastern Europe.”

Walter was so shocked that he dropped his pencil. France and Britain staying out of the war-this was what he wanted! He stared at Lichnowsky. The ambassador, too, looked startled and delighted. “This is very hopeful,” he said.

Tyrrell held up a cautionary hand. “Please understand that I make no promises.”

Fine, Walter thought, but you didn’t come here for a casual chat.

Lichnowsky said: “Then let me say quite simply that a proposal to confine the war to the east would be examined with great interest by His Majesty Kaiser Wilhelm and the German government.”

“Thank you.” Tyrrell stood up. “I shall report back to Sir Edward accordingly.”

Walter showed Tyrrell out. He was elated. If France and Britain could be kept out of the war there would be nothing to stop him marrying Maud. Was this a pipe dream?

He returned to the ambassador’s room. Before they had a chance to discuss Tyrrell’s statement, the phone rang. Walter picked it up and heard a familiar English voice say: “This is Grey. May I speak to His Excellency?”

“Of course, sir.” Walter handed the phone to the ambassador. “Sir Edward Grey.”

“Lichnowsky here. Good morning… Yes, Sir William has just left… ”

Walter stared at the ambassador, listening avidly to his half of the conversation and trying to read his face.

“A most interesting suggestion… Permit me to make our position clear. Germany has no quarrel with either France or Great Britain.”

It sounded as if Grey was going over the same ground as Tyrrell. Clearly the English were very serious about this.