Kingdoms Fall - The Laxenburg Message (18 page)

“But you, Sir, are the first British officer
we’ve seen,” said Killington. “If I may ask, are you the first of many? I only
inquire as there are rumors of a mighty British force headed to Greece.”

“Whether there is or is not such a force on its
way to Salonika, I have no idea, I’m afraid. I’m simply in Greece on leave from
Alexandria and was told the Ayia Sofia and the White Tower are landmarks in
Salonika that I absolutely must visit. To be honest, I had no idea I was this
close to the war. How far is it to your station in Prilep?”

“About 100 miles,” said Griffith, “but no one
is going in that direction.”

“Surely the British are coming to Salonika,”
said Miss Sandes, “as the government has so frequently expressed its fellowship
with the Serbian people and the desire to protect Serbia from the
Austro-Hungarians. It would be a genuine disgrace for the Empire to abandon one
of its most faithful friends in time of war. Don’t you agree, Captain Gresham?”

Gresham had not really addressed Miss Sandes
until she spoke, but as he looked at her he saw a woman by no means young but
quite energetic and pretty in a rugged sort of way with her short hair and
khaki pants. She was not old enough to be Gresham’s mother, but her experiences
with the Red Cross had clearly aged her. No, it was not age, he thought.
Perhaps it was her bearing of seriousness and maturity. In any event, Gresham
took a liking to her immediately.

“I quite agree with you, Miss Sandes. It is
undoubtedly our duty to defend Serbia and most clearly in our own best
interests to do so, as well. Were Serbia to fall, Germany would be able to
readily reinforce and supply the Turks, and that would be bloody bad news to
our men in the Dardanelles.”

“It’s because of Serbia that we are at war in
the first place,” said Killington crossly.

“That’s unfair,” objected Sandes. “There’s no
evidence that young anarchist fellow in Sarajevo had any connection to the
Serbian government. One might as easily place the blame on the Kaiser for his
rapaciousness or the Ottoman Sultan for losing control of the Balkans, or
Napoleon, or Charlemagne. Regardless, British honor is at stake is seeing that
Serbian independence is preserved. It is also clearly a matter of international
security: Like Belgium in the west, Serbia is the gatekeeper in the east who
protects European civilization from the Asiatic.”

“Now, now, Miss Sandes. Let’s not argue,
especially as it appears you are far better informed than any of us,” said
Griffith sarcastically.

“I don’t suppose you have been in the
Dardanelles Campaign yourself, Captain?” asked young Killington.

“Yes, actually I was there last month, at the
Suvla Bay landing. I’m sorry to say the campaign was still at something of a
stalemate at the time I was sent down to Egypt.”

“It’s a terrible, terrible situation,” said
Griffith. “The papers at home are up in arms over it. It’s a genuine disgrace
that our lads have been held up by the Turks as they have.”

“Perhaps they are simply better soldiers than
we allowed,” said Sandes.

“They are indeed fine soldiers, ma’am, and very
well commanded,” added Gresham. He was hesitant to say more about the situation
at Gallipoli, however. “Have you been to Serbia before, Miss Sandes?”

“I previously served with the Serbian Red Cross
in Valjevo. I don’t believe I’ll be able to get there directly this time, so I
am waiting to see if we can at least all go up to Prilep together and then I
can take the train north from there.”

“How long do you plan to stay in Salonika,
Captain?” asked Killington.

“That’s difficult to say. A friend from Athens
is coming to meet me here, so at least a few days.”

“Days! Good Lord,” said Griffith, “how can you
possibly wish to stay on holiday in Salonika for days? It’s a filthy little
city and there’s no end to the refugees at the moment.”

“I, for one, would be happy to see the Ayia
Sofia with you, Captain,” said Sandes. “I’m told the iconography in the dome
there is lovely. Shall we plan a tour for the morning?”

“It would be a pleasure to visit the church
with you, Miss Sandes. I am certain we will all see each other again here in
the morning, but, if you would be kind enough to excuse me for now, I did hope
to take a walk along the docks and get a little fresh air before nightfall.”

“Of course, of course,” said Griffith. “Good
night, Captain.”

Gresham made his way out to the street. He had
been somewhat uncomfortable talking with his fellow British subjects. Did he
say he was on holiday in Salonika? How ridiculous! If only he was a better
liar! Perhaps it didn’t matter so much with a group of doctors, but others
might wonder why he and, eventually, Wilkins were hanging about in Salonika for
days or even weeks. But it was a wide open city in a neutral country, after
all. Moreover, Salonika was truly a filthy little port city, and the crowd of
refugees brought the nearness of war uncomfortably home to him. Although
Gresham didn’t understand the Greek or Serbian languages, he could hear the
note of panic in the words spoken around him and see the desperation of the
refugees, mostly merchants and middle class families so far, who had the means
to travel but had found in Salonika nowhere to stay. The streets were quite
crowded as Gresham made his way down to the docks. He strolled slowly, stopping
at a variety of little store fronts that sold bread, cheese, and fish at prices
that were already terribly inflated.

Before long, Gresham spotted the little spice
shop mentioned by
K
in Athens. It reminded Gresham of his days in
Alexandria – the smell of pepper, cinnamon, allspice, and frankincense filled
the air. An older man sat on a stool out in front of the store, but since he
was blind it was hard to believe he could stop any thieves. Inside, the store
was overflowing with barrels and boxes of spices and jars of all sorts. On a counter
set atop a stack of crates, an older boy, black-haired and dressed in filthy
clothes, was filling small envelopes with his own mix of spices. Gresham
watched a moment, and then the boy nodded at Gresham.

“Spice for souvenir?” the boy asked.

“Perhaps,” Gresham replied. “A friend of mine
in Athens told me that the spices here are the best in Salonika.”

“This is the only spice in Salonika.”

“Then your name must be Athos.”

The boy squinted at Gresham and grimaced.

“Who tell you my name?”

“A lovely older lady from Athens. I believe you
have done business with her.”

“Yes, I know who you mean. Yes, in the past.”

“You no longer do business with her?”

“Others pay now.”

“Who?”

“People pay. They pay me not to say.”

“I see, and if I pay you, will you keep my name
and my questions secret too?”

“You pay, then yes.”

“I only have one question for now, Athos,” said
Gresham, as he placed a small stack of gold sovereigns on the counter. The
boy’s eyes widened noticeably. “The others who pay you, do they speak English or
German?”

The boy’s eyes shot up to Gresham. He sneered
again. “German. No more will I say.”

“If that is all that money can buy, I will ask
no more for now. But you are a Greek, so consider this: When the Austrians,
Hungarians and Bulgarians come to Salonika, will you stay here or will you run
like the Serbians out in the street have been forced to run from their homes?”

The boy looked at Gresham stoically.

“I will come see you in a day or two, Athos. Perhaps
you will want to say more then. Good evening.” Gresham took a small spice
packet and walked out of the store. The cool breeze off the water was a relief
after the heavily scented air of the shop. There were enemies in Salonika, it
seemed, people asking questions, waiting to see how many British troops were
coming, perhaps planning mischief. Finding them would be difficult and take
time, but Gresham had nothing better to do, apart from visiting a church with
Miss Sandes in the morning.

Wilkins sat in a comfortable and private first class
cabin of the train that was taking him, the Prime Minister, several other
government officials, and a large number of heavily armed gendarmes to
Salonika. Their departure from Athens had been delayed after the Prime Minister
had agreed to meet with some of the many supporters who wished to thank him for
his stand against the King, and their passage was further slowed as crowds came
out at each train station to cheer the Prime Minister. It was quite clear that
the people of Greece strongly approved of the gentle old statesman. Moreover,
Wilkins could easily imagine the hostile reception the King would receive at
such stops, if the King even dared to travel in his own country.

It was difficult for Wilkins to imagine the
same sort of disapprobation being directed at his own reserved King George or
the same sort of admiration being bestowed upon his own abstemious Prime
Minister Asquith. It was not, he thought, that the people of Great Britain were
less engaged in political issues. It was more, in his estimation, that
King
George
was less engaged. Surely some group of people must be discussing and
establishing the policies of the British Empire – but most assuredly they did
not include King George.

Late in the afternoon, the train was still
hours from Salonika and Wilkins was asked to meet again with Venizelos. He was
admitted to a large and crowded lounge car where Venizelos was concluding a
meeting. Soon, all but Wilkins, Venizelos and three other men were ushered out
of the room.

“Captain Wilkins, please meet my friends,” said
the former Prime Minister, beckoning to Wilkins by the door. “May I introduce
to you Admiral Pavlos Kountouriotis, Minister of War Panagiotis Danglis, and my
diplomatic colleague Nikolaos Politis. Gentlemen, this is Captain James Wilkins,
the British officer I mentioned to you earlier.”

The men stood and shook Wilkins’ hand. Politis
was a short, middle aged man with an educated look and calm demeanor; Danglis
was an older man of severe military stature and bearing; and Kountouriotis was
a tall and very elegant man of great nobility. When all five were seated,
Venizelos continued:

“The Captain here is not a formal
representative of the British military, but I have asked him to be our liaison
to the British authorities whom we are soon to meet in Salonika. Captain, we
have been having a rather robust dialogue on a significant issue that I think
you should hear, namely, how many Allied troops should be landed at Salonika.”

“Frankly, sir,” said Wilkins, “I haven’t any
idea myself how many men are expected.”

“Ah, well we can clarify that for you,” said
Politis. “Under the terms of the confidential Greek-Serbian defense pact, of
which I understand you are aware, Greece and Serbia are both expected to
provide 150,000 men for the defense against Bulgaria. Since Serbia is otherwise
occupied with the Austro-Hungarians, we cannot expect the Serbian government to
provide those troops. Therefore, the Prime Minister reached an accord with the
Entente to provide 150,000 British and Frenchmen on Serbia’s behalf.”

“However,” interrupted Venizelos, “the
circumstances have changed. The King already considers the defense pact to be
nullified; therefore, the number set forth in the pact is no longer of any
consequence. We have been discussing the number of men that are actually
wanted
in light of the recent developments. That number, I can say with confidence, is
substantially less than 150,000. You will help us to explain to the British and
French, when they arrive, why fewer Entente troops will be permitted to
disembark in Salonika.”

“If our goal – I mean the goal of the Entente,”
said Wilkins, “is to prevent the fall of Serbia, it may take many more than
150,000 men.”

“The invasion of Serbia is imminent. We do not
believe there is enough time at this late date to prevent the country from
being overrun,” said War Minister Danglis. “There would need to be 150,000 men
on Serbia’s eastern border today to prevent it.”

“The British and French commanders may
disagree,” said Wilkins.

“You must recall,” said Politis, “that the
Entente troops will be entering Greece without the King’s permission and, in
part, because the King has agreed to the annexation of Hellene territory by
Bulgaria. The number of British and French troops cannot be so great as to
constitute an invasion and occupation of Hellene territory, or even be
perceived as such, or else the King will most certainly plead for assistance
from Germany. No, it must be a modest number of troops, yet a number adequate
to guarantee Greek sovereignty in eastern and central Macedonia.”

“Why should the Entente wish to preserve the
sovereignty of a pro-German nation?” asked Wilkins.

“The king may be pro-German, but Greece is not.
The presence of an allied armed force will preserve the neutrality of Greece,
as well as the pro-Entente faction of Greece’s government.”

“I see,” said Wilkins. “Then you are asking the
Entente to protect you from the King.”

“That is merely consequential.”