Fall of Giants

He was irritated with his parents for persisting in foisting Monika on him. The fact that he found himself strongly attracted to her made matters worse. She was intelligent as well as beautiful. Her hair was always carefully dressed, but he could not help imagining her unpinning it at night and shaking her head to liberate her curls. Sometimes, these days, he found it hard to picture Maud.

Now Otto raised his glass. “Good-bye to the tsar!” he said.

“I’m surprised at you, Father,” said Walter irritably. “Are you really celebrating the overthrow of a legitimate monarch by a mob of factory workers and mutinous soldiers?”

Otto went red in the face. Walter’s sister, Greta, patted her father’s arm soothingly. “Take no notice, Daddy,” she said. “Walter just says these things to annoy you.”

Konrad said: “I got to know Tsar Nicholas when I was at our embassy in Petrograd.”

Walter said: “And what did you think of him, sir?”

Monika answered for her father. Giving Walter a conspiratorial grin, she said: “Daddy used to say that if the tsar had been born to a different station in life he might, with an effort, have become a competent postman.”

“This is the tragedy of inherited monarchy.” Walter turned to his father. “But you must surely disapprove of democracy in Russia.”

“Democracy?” said Otto derisively. “We shall see. All we know is that the new prime minister is a liberal aristocrat.”

Monika said to Walter: “Do you think Prince Lvov will try to make peace with us?”

It was the question of the hour. “I hope so,” said Walter, trying not to look at Monika’s breasts. “If all our troops on the eastern front could be switched to France we could overrun the Allies.”

She raised her glass and looked over its rim into Walter’s eyes. “Then let’s drink to that,” she said.

In a cold, wet trench in northeastern France, Billy’s platoon was drinking gin.

The bottle had been produced by Robin Mortimer, the cashiered officer. “I’ve been saving this,” he said.

“Well, knock me down with a feather,” said Billy, using one of Mildred’s expressions. Mortimer was a surly beggar and had never been known to buy anyone a drink.

Mortimer splashed liquor into their mess tins. “Here’s to bloody revolution,” he said, and they all drank, then held out their tins for refills.

Billy had been in high spirits even before drinking the gin. The Russians had proved it was still possible to overthrow tyrants.

They were singing “The Red Flag” when Earl Fitzherbert came limping around the traverse, splashing through the mud. He was a colonel now, and more arrogant than ever. “Be quiet, you men!” he shouted.

The singing died down gradually.

Billy said: “We’re celebrating the overthrow of the tsar of Russia!”

Fitz said angrily: “He was a legitimate monarch, and those who deposed him are criminals. No more singing.”

Billy’s contempt for Fitz went up a notch. “He was a tyrant who murdered thousands of his subjects, and all civilized men are rejoicing today.”

Fitz looked more closely at him. The earl no longer wore an eye patch, but his left eyelid had a permanent droop. However, it did not seem to affect his eyesight. “Sergeant Williams-I might have guessed. I know you-and your family.”

And how, Billy thought.

“Your sister’s a peace agitator.”

“So’s yours, sir,” said Billy, and Robin Mortimer laughed raucously, then shut up suddenly.

Fitz said to Billy: “One more insolent word out of you and you’ll be on a charge.”

“Sorry, sir,” said Billy.

“Now calm down, all of you. And no more singing.” Fitz walked away.

Billy said quietly: “Long live the revolution.”

Fitz pretended not to hear.

In London, Princess Bea screamed: “No!”

“Try to stay calm,” said Maud, who had just told her the news.

“They cannot!” Bea screamed. “They cannot make our beloved tsar abdicate! He is the father of his people!”

“It may be for the best-”

“I don’t believe you! It’s a wicked lie!”

The door opened and Grout put his head in, looking worried.

Bea picked up a Japanese bottle-vase containing an arrangement of dried grasses and hurled it across the room. It hit the wall and smashed.

Maud patted Bea’s shoulder. “There, there,” she said. She was not sure what else to do. She herself was delighted that the tsar had been overthrown, but all the same she sympathized with Bea, for whom an entire way of life had been destroyed.

Grout crooked a finger and a maid came in, looking frightened. He pointed at the broken vase, and the maid began to pick up the pieces.

The tea things were on a table: cups, saucers, teapots, jugs of milk and cream, bowls of sugar. Bea swept them all violently to the floor. “Those revolutionaries are going to kill everyone!”

The butler knelt down and began to clear up the mess.

“Don’t excite yourself,” Maud said.

Bea began to cry. “The poor tsaritsa! And her children! What will become of them?”

“Perhaps you should lie down for a while,” Maud said. “Come on, I’ll walk you to your room.” She took Bea’s elbow, and Bea allowed herself to be led away.

“It’s the end of everything,” Bea sobbed.