Ken Follett - Fall of Giants

Walter picked it up. It was a draft reply to the Austrian emperor’s personal letter. Walter read it with mounting alarm. It ended: “The Emperor Franz Joseph may, however, rest assured that His Majesty will faithfully stand by Austria-Hungary, as is required by the obligations of his alliance and of his ancient friendship.”

Walter was horrified. “But this gives Austria carte blanche!” he said. “They can do anything they like and we will support them!”

“There are some qualifications.”

“Not many. Has this been sent?”

“No, but it has been agreed. It will be sent tomorrow.”

“Can we stop it?”

“No, and I would not want to.”

“But it commits us to support Austria in a war against Serbia.”

“No bad thing.”

“We don’t want war!” Walter protested. “We need science, and manufacturing, and commerce. Germany must modernize and become liberal and grow. We want peace and prosperity.” And, he added silently, we want a world in which a man can marry the woman he loves without being accused of treason.

“Listen to me,” Otto said. “We have powerful enemies on both sides, France to the west and Russia to the east-and they are hand in glove. We can’t fight a war on two fronts.”

Walter knew this. “That’s why we have the Schlieffen Plan,” he said. “If we are forced to go to war, we first invade France with an overwhelming force, achieve victory within a few weeks, and then, with the west secure, we turn east to face Russia.”

“Our only hope,” Otto said. “But when that plan was adopted by the German army nine years ago, our intelligence told us it would take the Russian army forty days to mobilize. That gave us almost six weeks in which to conquer France. Ever since then, the Russians have been improving their railways-with money loaned by France!” Otto banged the desk, as if he could squash France under his fist. “As the Russians’ mobilization time gets shorter, so the Schlieffen Plan becomes more risky. Which means”-he pointed his finger dramatically at Walter-“the sooner we have this war, the better for Germany!”

“No!” Why could the old man not see how dangerous this thinking was? “It means we should be seeking peaceful solutions to petty disputes.”

“Peaceful solutions?” Otto shook his head knowingly. “You’re a young idealist. You think there is an answer to every question.”

“You actually want war,” Walter said incredulously. “You really do.”

“No one wants war,” said Otto. “But sometimes it’s better than the alternative.”

Maud had inherited a pittance from her father-three hundred pounds a year, barely enough to buy gowns for the season. Fitz got the title, the lands, the houses, and nearly all the money. That was the English system. But it was not what angered Maud. Money meant little to her: she did not really need her three hundred. Fitz paid for anything she wanted without question: he thought it ungentlemanly to be careful with money.

Her great resentment was that she had had no education. When she was seventeen, she had announced that she was going to university-whereupon everyone had laughed at her. It turned out that you had to come from a good school, and pass examinations, before they would let you in. Maud had never been to school, and even though she could discuss politics with the great men of the land, a succession of governesses and tutors had completely failed to equip her to pass any sort of exam. She had cried and raged for days, and even now thinking about it could still put her in a foul mood. This was what made her a suffragette: she knew girls would never get a decent education until women had the vote.

She had often wondered why women married. They contracted themselves to a lifetime of slavery and, she had asked, what did they get in return? Now, however, she knew the answer. She had never felt anything as intensely as her love for Walter. And the things they did to express that love gave her the most exquisite pleasure. To be able to touch one another that way any time you liked would be heaven. She would have enslaved herself three times over, if that were the price.

But slavery was not the price, at least not with Walter. She had asked him whether he thought a wife should obey her husband in all things, and he had answered: “Certainly not. I don’t see that obedience comes into it. Two adults who love one another should be able to make decisions together, without one having to obey the other.”

She spent a lot of time thinking about their life together. For a few years he would probably be posted from one embassy to another, and they would travel the world: Paris, Rome, Budapest, perhaps even farther afield to Addis Ababa, Tokyo, Buenos Aires. She thought of the story of Ruth in the Bible: “Whither thou goest, I will go.” Their sons would be taught to treat women as equals, and their daughters would grow up independent and strong-willed. Perhaps they would eventually settle in a town house in Berlin, so that their children could go to good German schools. At some point, no doubt, Walter would inherit Zumwald, his father’s country house in East Prussia. When they were old, and their children were adults, they would spend more time in the country, walking hand in hand around the estate, reading side by side in the evenings, and reflecting on how the world had changed since they were young.

Maud had trouble thinking about anything else. She sat in her office at the Calvary Gospel Hall, staring at a price list of medical supplies, and remembered how Walter had sucked his fingertip at the door to the duchess’s drawing room. People were beginning to notice her absentmindedness: Dr. Greenward had asked if she was feeling all right, and Aunt Herm had told her to wake up.

She tried again to concentrate on the order form, and this time she was interrupted by a tap at the door. Aunt Herm looked in and said: “Someone to see you.” She seemed a bit awestruck, and handed Maud a card.

General Otto von Wrich

ATTACHÉ

EMBASSY OF THE EMPIRE OF GERMANY

CARLTON HOUSE TERRACE, LONDON

“Walter’s father!” said Maud. “What on earth…?”

“What shall I say?” whispered Aunt Herm.

“Ask him if he would like tea or sherry, and show him in.”

Von Ulrich was formally dressed in a black frock coat with satin lapels, a white piqué waistcoat, and striped trousers. His red face was perspiring in the summer heat. He was rounder than Walter, and not as handsome, but they had the same straight-backed, chin-up military stance.

Maud summoned her habitual insouciance. “My dear Herr von Ulrich, is this a formal visit?”

“I want to talk to you about my son,” he said. His English was almost as good as Walter’s, though he had an accent where Walter did not.

“It’s kind of you to come to the point so quickly,” Maud replied with a touch of sarcasm that went right over his head. “Please sit down. Lady Hermia will order some refreshment.”

“Walter comes from an old aristocratic family.”

“As do I,” said Maud.

“We are traditional, conservative, devoutly religious… perhaps a little old-fashioned.”

“Just like my family,” Maud said.

This was not going the way Otto had planned. “We are Prussians,” he said with a touch of exasperation.

“Ah,” said Maud as if trumped. “Whereas we, of course, are Anglo-Saxons.”

She was fencing with him, as if this were nothing more than a battle of wits, but underneath she was frightened. Why was he here? What was his aim? She felt it could not be benign. He was against her. He would try to come between her and Walter, she felt bleakly certain.

Anyway, he was not to be put off by facetiousness. “Germany and Great Britain are at odds. Britain makes friends with our enemies, Russia and France. This makes Britain our adversary.”