Kingdoms Fall - The Laxenburg Message (31 page)

“But each of the nations involved now, well,
you can easily imagine how entrenched their leaders have become, and how
desperate they are to preserve their gains,” said Gresham. “When the day comes
that Charles becomes Emperor, it will mean a fresh start for Austria-Hungary.
He will be in a unique position to do something about the war, to convey a
message of peace. I have been empowered to assure him that there are some who
will be very receptive. James and I are old friends, and he has helped me come
to Vienna for the sole purpose of conveying that message to Charles.”

“But who sent you, Mister Kelly?” Xavier asked
pointedly.

“I cannot tell you that. I may only speak to
Charles on that issue, if I am granted the opportunity.”

“I see,” said Xavier doubtfully. “Well, I’m
afraid it won’t do any good your coming to Vienna. Charles and my sister are in
the country now with the children. And, anyway, I could hardly arrange a
private audience for you without knowing more.”

“But perhaps, Xavier,” said Wilkins hopefully,
“if you were to arrange an invitation for us to the Auersperg Ball? Charles
will be there, will he not?”

“I suppose it’s likely he and Zita will be
returning for the Ball. But would you speak to him then, in public, on a matter
of such delicacy? That will not do at all.”

“No, of course not,” said Gresham, “but I
believe Charles will seek us out, if I give him reason.”

“Well, I am willing to arrange invitations to
the Ball for you both; that is no difficulty at all. And I will give the matter
further thought, but more I cannot promise you.”

Gresham and Wilkins arrived at the Palais
Auersperg with hundreds of other sedans and carriages containing the most
exquisitely dressed Counts and Countesses, Barons and Baronesses, and Dukes and
Duchesses of Austria who had all come to Vienna for the Shrovetide
celebrations. The ladies in their white gowns and bejeweled masks strode
gracefully up the steps to the Palais. Snow lay thickly on the parks and
statues, but an army of workers had been hired to clear the streets and steps.
The men, the ones in black evening clothes and top hats, with their monocles
and walking sticks, walked behind them. Many of the men, however, had instead
dressed in their bright, pastel-colored and heavily decorated satin military
uniforms with capes of bearskin and gleaming black leather boots. It was
wartime, and each man who was able displayed his martial credentials.

Neither would anyone wish to miss the first
Ball of the season, especially not the one given by the influential and wealthy
Auersperg family at their historic Palais in Vienna. In their time, Mozart and
Haydn had premiered operas at the Palais Auersperg, but now the most notable
guests were Count Karl von Stürgkh, the Minister-President of Austria and the
man who ensured that Austria stayed faithful to its Germanic roots; Count
Stephan Burián von Rajecz, the Joint Foreign Minister for Austria and Hungary
and arguably the second most important man in the Empire after the Emperor
himself; and Count Franz Conrad von Hötzendorf, the Chief of the General Staff
of the Austro-Hungarian Army, the man who would destroy Serbia and the Slavs
given the opportunity. These were the men who found themselves surrounded by
throngs of the wealthiest and most powerful men of Austria and Germany seeking
favor. His Imperial and Royal Apostolic Majesty Franz Joseph could not attend;
it was said he was suffering a relapse of the pneumonia which had come and gone
several times in the past year and would surely end his majesty’s life before
the new year was done.

Wilkins and Gresham passed into the Ball
dumbfounded. Even Wilkins had never seen anything like it. The wealth on
display in the form of tiaras, necklaces and bracelets, all crafted with each
family’s finest jewels especially for this event, was astronomical. The gold
filigree, chains, and rope on dresses and uniforms must have weighed,
collectively, hundreds of pounds. A full orchestra played waltzes by Johann
Strauss, and lead crystal chandeliers brightly illuminated one ballroom after
another, each containing invaluable paintings and other exquisite works of art,
while gentlemen and ladies danced on the intricate parquet floors.

“I wish you hadn’t given your word for me,”
Gresham hissed.

“What do you mean?”

“With a few of Sergeant Hart’s old jam-tins, one
man could take out the whole bloody Austro-Hungarian Empire here tonight.”

“Don’t talk like that; you don’t know who might
be listening,” Wilkins chastised him.

“You sound like an old lady, James.”

They walked casually from room to room, but it
seemed Archduke Charles and his wife had not yet arrived at the Ball. As they
came to a stop with their glasses of Champagne near the grand gleaming white
marble staircase, many men and women who were interested in meeting the
ostentation Irish revolutionary Kelly (who had been the talk of Vienna for
days) soon surrounded Gresham to express their
Fraternität
with the
Irish and support for those who would defy Great Britain. Among them, one
gentleman walked right up to Gresham and took his hand. He shook it vigorously,
saying “
meine Herren, ich bin Gotz. Sie schreiben ein buch. Rufen sie mich
an. Ich habe viel zu erzählen.
”

The man then quickly walked away.

“What was he on about?” Wilkins asked.

In his palm, Gresham held a note that the man
Gotz had transferred when he shook hands. Of all the places to give me a damned
note, Gresham thought. He placed it in his pocket; he could not read it until
he had some privacy.

“There you are, gentlemen,” said Xavier,
casually approaching with a half a dozen attractive young women swarming around
him excitedly. “I am delighted you received your invitations to the Ball. These
young ladies are extremely eager to meet the dashing young Irish revolutionary
making the rounds in Vienna. It seems you are something of a sensation, Herr Kelly,
and when these ladies found out that I knew you, nothing would prevent them
from making your acquaintance.”

“I certainly hoped they weren’t all for you,
Xavier,” said Gresham. “Do any of them speak English?”

“We all do, Mister Kelly” said an excited,
giggling young woman with large sparkling brown eyes.

“When are your sister and her husband arriving,
Xavier,” said Wilkins with impatience.

“Oh my dear James,” said Xavier, “they have
been here for ages already. Have you not spoken to them yet?”

“Good heavens, no. We had no idea. Where are
they?

“Charles is right there, speaking to the junior
foreign minister.”

Xavier pointed to the young Archduke, only a
few years older than Gresham himself, wearing a formal Austrian military
uniform without extensive decoration, speaking to an older man. He was of
middling height and had wavy brown hair and a drooping mustache, and his eyes
expressed a certain degree of boredom with the conversation. In fact, he
appeared almost sleepy. He smiled slightly and laughed gently, perhaps merely
out of politeness. Unlike the other dignitaries at the Ball, the Archduke had
no throng of flatterers around him and no one seemed to be seeking him out.

“James, keep the ladies company for a moment
while I introduce Herr Kelly to Charles.” Xavier took Gresham by the arm and
led him over to the Archduke, who looked at Gresham with only mild curiosity.

“
Entschuldigen sie, Eure Majestät, darf ich
ihnen Herrn Kelly, ein Ire aus Ulster. Er schreibt ein sehr schmeichelhaft buch
über Eure Majestät in der Schweiz veröffentlicht
.”

Gresham bowed.

“Herr Kelly,” said Charles. “I have heard of
this book you are writing.”

“You do me great honor, Your Majesty. I pray
that the book we are writing pleases you and will be a fitting introduction for
you to the peoples of the world who are so anxious to learn of Your Majesty.”

“Indeed,” said Charles placidly.

“If I may, I have been told that Your Majesty
is a collector of rare coins, and I have one here that I hoped would make a
fine addition to that collection.” From his pocket, Gresham withdrew a single
shining brass coin, which he handed to Charles.

“Your gift is deeply appreciated. Best wishes
on your book, Herr Kelly,” said Charles, who then turned back to the junior
foreign minister, slipping the coin in his pocket without a glance. Gresham
bowed again slightly and was led away by Prince Xavier.

“I don’t know what you’re playing at, but I
hope you took your best shot,” Xavier said to Gresham.

“So do I,” said Gresham. “I can’t bear to think
how James is treating those young ladies, Xavier. We had better return at once
and rescue them.”

“I find we are of like mind,” said Xavier. He
snatched a bottle of Champagne from a passing waiter as they returned to the
party.

The rest of the evening was spent in show:
Dancing, drinking, and flirting with the pretty young ladies. Gresham and
Xavier struggled to keep the excited young ladies from making too much noise,
and they ended up in a small lounge reciting obscene limericks that made the
ladies squeal and blush. Wilkins found he was unable to escape one young woman,
Edle von Weben, who was terribly infatuated with him; they spent most of the
evening dancing waltzes in the grand ballroom.

           
Much later that night, Wilkins and Gresham returned to their suite at the
Grand
exhausted. As they entered the darkened rooms and headed off to their bedrooms,
Gresham was first to notice that things were amiss. Before they had gone out,
he had, with a bit of spittle and a few hairs, created a small unnoticeable
seal on several of the closet doors and, when he inspected them upon their
return, he could see that all the seals had been broken. While they had been
out, their belongings had been thoroughly and professionally searched.

           
“James!” He called, and Wilkins rushed into Gresham’s room. “It seems the
Colonel is not done with us yet. Our rooms have been searched.”

           
“What else would you expect? You shook hands with the Archduke, for pity’s
sake! You can’t expect von Stumm to just ignore us after that.”

           
“Good God! I completely forgot about the note!” exclaimed Gresham. He searched
his pockets for the note he had been handed by Herr Gotz at the Ball. He found
it at last deep inside his jacket and carefully unfolded the small paper.
“There’s an address and room number, and it says ‘
Mannerheim
’. What is
that?”

           
“It’s a hostel for vagrants. How terribly untimely: We might have been able to
sneak over there yesterday, but now I fear we will be watched very closely
again. I don’t know how we can go there – it will be terribly suspicious.”

           
“Then I must go at once and you will have to cover for me,” said Gresham,
pulling off his fine evening clothes. “Run the bath and order up some food and
wine for me; put on a show. I will go to the
Mannerheim
and return as
soon as I am able.”

           
“You must be very careful, David. Make sure you are not followed.”

           
Gresham finished dressing in his daytime clothes and put his overcoat back on.
“After the food has arrived, contact Edle von Weben; I have her telephone
exchange. Call her and go to her home tonight; leave through the back of the
hotel. If they catch me out, they will come for you instantly and I don’t want
you sitting in the suite. Then call me here in the morning: If I am not back by
dawn, James, you had better make a run for it.”

           
“Good luck,” Wilkins said, as he reached for the telephone.

           
Gresham was quickly out the door and took the service stairs down to the back
of the hotel. He found a staff room and an old, dirty boiler-suit and cap
there. He put them on quickly to better disguise himself and left his fine
overcoat balled up in a waste bin.

           
Outdoors he moved slowly through the cold night, making as little show as
possible, pretending he was just one of the many tired workers headed home at
the end of their shifts. The
Mannerheim
was in the north part of the
city, and it was a long walk, but many of the workers out that night were headed
in the same direction. It was difficult to tell if anyone was following him.
Gresham stopped several times to rest in warm doorways and watch the others in
the street. It didn’t appear anyone was after him.

           
After an hour more of quick walking, Gresham arrived at the tired and dingy
men’s hostel across from the china manufactory. He waited until he saw two men
entering together, and then stepped quickly to join them. He grunted sleepily
and shambled up the steps with them, continuing to the fifth floor where he
found the room he was seeking. He knocked.

           
“
Was willst du
?” said a man behind the door after a brief pause.

           
“
Meine hände sind schwarz
,” said Gresham, repeating the simple German
phrase he had been taught to identify himself to the
Black Hand
agent.

           
The door opened enough for a large, dirty man to look out. He looked Gresham up
and down carefully, and opened the door to let him into the poor, shabby room.
It was dark, and Gresham could not even see if they were alone.