Tidal Effects (Gray Tide In The East Book 2) Read online

  With this, Karolyi turned and marched out of the great hall, sparing not a single backward glance for the pandemonium he had just created. The other forty-odd members of his party followed their leader out of the Diet, doing their best to ignore the enraged catcalls and shouted insults showered upon them by their fellow deputies. It took Count Tisza fully thirty minutes to restore sufficient order to allow him to recess the session for the day.

  It soon became apparent that Karolyi’s dramatic speech and actions had constituted only the first phase of a larger plan. The walkout had come at 11:30. By 1:00, a huge crowd of his supporters had gathered in the great square outside the main entrance to the Parliament Building. The fact that so many thousands of his partisans were able to respond so quickly to an event that had occurred only ninety minutes earlier showed that Karolyi’s actions on the floor of the legislature had not been the result of some sudden aberration.

  Karolyi stood beneath the central arch at the top of the steps that led to the main entrance to the Országház, and breathed fire at his supporters. “Shall we bow down and become the slaves of lesser peoples, who would destroy our nation with their endless demands for national rights?” he demanded. “No,… no,… never!” the throng bellowed.

  “Shall we become weaker, or shall we grow stronger?” he shouted, extending his arm and shaking his fist. Not surprisingly, his followers shouted, “Stronger,…stronger!” Karolyi waited for the pandemonium to pass before he continued.

  “Rather than being pulled apart into a dozen small, weak nations, shall we not share our glorious heritage and make new Magyars from Slovaks, Croats, Serbs, Romanians and the rest, until we build a Greater Hungary of twenty-five, thirty, even forty millions, so that the whole of Eastern Europe must follow where we lead?” Karolyi demanded.

  This rhetorical query was greeted with a sustained, earsplitting paroxysm of cheers, and accompanied by the frenzied waving of a sea of Hungarian flags bearing the Kossuth coat of arms supported by archangels superimposed on horizontal bands of red, white and green.

  From a balcony jutting out of an upper floor of the Parliament Building overlooking the square, Prime Minister Tisza looked on in amazement and disgust. He turned to his Interior Minister, Gabor Ugron, who stood at his side, and said, “I have no use for Karolyi or his politics, but until now I never suspected him to be mentally unbalanced. It’s not as if the Diet was ever going to approve the King’s new federal plan. He certainly knows that we…” by which he meant his ruling Liberal Party “…have no more use for it than he does. So why the all the nationalist ranting? What is he up to?”

  “Will we allow Tisza and the rest of the Hapsburg’s lackeys to steal our birthright?” Karolyi thundered. The crowd responded with shouts of “No! No!... Never!” and “Hungary will be free!”

  Ugron rubbed his forefinger over the bump on the bridge of his long nose. “I think, Your Excellency, that we must prepare for the possibility that he is planning to act in a manner consistent with his words,” he said. “It is my belief that we shall soon be facing an attempt to overthrow the legally constituted government of the kingdom by armed force, and I suggest that we take immediate steps to meet this threat.”

  “A revolution? Do you really believe the situation is as serious as that, Gabor?” Tisza asked.

  “Your Excellency, I strongly suggest that you contact Vienna to ask for the release of a division of cavalry to take the situation in hand before it becomes too big to control,” Ungron said. “Meanwhile, I will call up every available policeman for emergency service. With your permission, I will issue orders to arrest Karolyi and the other leaders of his party. In addition, if this crowd does not disperse with the next hour, I will arrange for them to be sent on their way by mounted officers.”

  Tisza shook his head. “No. Absolutely not. You most emphatically do not have my permission for either action. An attack on a peaceful crowd by mounted police will simply add fuel to the fire, as would the arrest of their leader. Indeed, you could easily set off the very violence that we are trying to avoid. I am far from convinced that Karolyi is ready to attempt to bring down the government by means of a violent revolution. If that really is his plan, he will doubtless be looking for us to overreact, and thereby give the mob an incident to rally around. I will consult with Vienna, and we will await developments. You may call up additional police, and you will order your men to keep a close watch on Karolyi’s partisans and make certain that no damage is done to innocent persons or property. But they are not to attack the crowd or attempt to take Karolyi or any members of his party into custody without my permission. Is that understood, Gabor?”

  The Minister of the Interior nodded his head. “Understood, Your Excellency. May I be excused? I should return to my office immediately.”

  “Go,” Tisza said. “We will speak again this evening.”

  He turned back to resume watching as Karolyi harangued the mass of humanity in the square with undiminished fervor. Could Ungron possibly be right? Was the mob below on the verge of breaking into the Parliament Building, overpowering the guards, seizing him and recreating the Defenestration of Prague by hurling the Emperor’s minister out of a high window? He imagined for a moment what it would be like to be hurled ten meters down to the stones of the square below, and then he shook his head.

  “No, Tisza, not today” he told himself. “This is not the day for you to give your life for your King.” He turned his back on the square, Mihaly Karolyi, and his rapt auditors, and then walked back inside the building, pausing only to close the tall French doors behind him. He noted with some satisfaction that when they were shut, the doors dimmed the clamor from outside considerably.

  the Országház, as seen from across the Danube River

  Chapter Five

  Vienna, August 16, 1923

  Had he been free to go where he wanted, Ray Swing would not at this moment be walking up the steps of the Schonbrunn Palace for his scheduled interview with Emperor Charles. He would instead be on his way to Budapest, to witness and report on what was promising to be the biggest story of the year.

  It was not that Swing thought an exclusive personal interview with the ruler of Austria-Hungary was less important than the events that were now unfolding in Budapest, even though that story rivaled in importance the recently ended Martinique affair, which had nearly touched off a war between the United States and Germany. Swing knew that the interview with Emperor Charles was an incredible opportunity for him, although he was still not certain how it had been arranged. But he did not think that during the current crisis, with rumors of revolution and possible civil war in the air, the Emperor would have the time to meet him, either today or for many days to come. Therefore, he was almost certainly wasting his time by coming to the palace, and he fully expected to be told that the interview would be postponed indefinitely. However, since he had heard nothing from the Austrians, he still had to go through the motions of showing up, even if it was merely to be told in person that he would not be able to see the Emperor today. A foreign correspondent did not stand up the Emperor of the Austria-Hungary, not unless he had given up all hope for career advancement.

  Inside the Schoenbrunn he was met by an Imperial official, a man outfitted in a uniform that would have been more appropriate for a major general than for a minor court functionary. The man very politely asked for Swing’s identification and his authorization to enter the wing of the palace containing the Imperial apartments. He handed over his passport and the letter from the Emperor’s secretary that contained the invitation to conduct the interview. As the man studied these documents and searched for his name in the gold-encrusted appointment book, Swing tried to estimate how long it would take him to return to his hotel, pack up, get to the Ostbahnhof, and catch a train to Budapest. Too long, he decided gloomily. All the excitement would probably be over by the time he got there.

  His brooding was interrupted when the court official spoke after a surprisingly short delay. “Yes, He
rr Swing, I see that your appointment is on the Emperor’s schedule. Everything is in order. I will have someone take you up to see His Majesty immediately.”

  Swing was so surprised by this that he very nearly asked the man if there had been some kind of mistake. He was able to control this impulse with an effort, and instead said, “Oh… I mean, thank you.”

  The major general bowed in acknowledgement, and replied, “It was a pleasure to be of assistance to you, Herr Swing.”

  Another member of the palace staff, this one in a costume that would not have been out of place had it been worn by the ambassador from a small Central American republic. It featured a red sash running diagonally across the front of a black morning coat, with a monocle dangling from a chain anchored in the lapel, pencil-striped pants, and a decoration, in the form of a red and gold enameled starburst, on the breast of the coat. Swing speculated that the medal had probably been awarded for having the most brightly polished shoes for a week straight or some similar achievement.

  He followed the man up a staircase decorated with an overhead fresco depicting a man in flapping, Classical draperies, a huge gout of flame, other figures on rearing horses, a throne, a crowd of people waving spears and swords over their heads, and a great deal more that he did not have time to puzzle out. He considered asking the Guatemalan Ambassador who was taking him to the Emperor if he knew what the picture was about, but then thought better of it.

  At the top of the stairs, Swing was led into a parquet-floored room whose main feature was a series of large windows overlooking a courtyard. They passed into another room, this one also bare of furniture, but containing a half-dozen guardsmen in knee-length boots, dressed in red uniforms set off with gold braid, topped by gilded helmets. These guards did not turn their heads or even shift their eyes to follow the two men passing through the room, and in fact did not appear to take notice of the existence of either one. From there, they entered another room, this one containing a billiards table and dominated by two huge paintings, both portraying large numbers of persons dressed in antique garb gathering together for some unknown purpose (unknown to Swing, at least). This room had the distinction of being the first one in which he had seen any furniture.

  Finally, they passed through an archway into a room paneled in burled walnut, gilded with Rococo decoration from floor to ceiling. There were two large mirrors, with elaborately carved gilt frames, several bow-legged armchairs painted gold, a marble topped table with intricately carved and gilded legs (the Austrians seemed enjoy gilding anything that would stand still long enough to have gold paint slapped on it), and at the far end of the room, a desk which stood out from all the other furnishings in that it was just plain wood, without any paint at all. Behind the desk engaged in writing, sat a slim, dark haired man with thin mustache, wearing a blue military jacket with gold buttons and a high collar. Standing beside him was another man, his short, dark hair slicked down and combed back over his head. Swing was immediately struck by the alert, intelligent expression on the face of the second man.

  Swing’s guide braced to attention, and announced, “Your Majesty, Mister Raymond Swing has arrived for his audience with you. Mr. Swing, I present His Imperial and Royal Majesty Charles the First, Emperor of Austria…”

  “Yes, that’s fine, thank you, Captain Dorner,” the Emperor said in flawless English, looking up from his writing. “You may return to your duties.”

  He rose and offered his hand. “Thank you for coming, Mr. Swing. It is a pleasure to meet you. I have heard a great many things about you, all good. This is Prince Sixtus Bourbon, who serves as both my Prime Minister and my Interior Minister. He is also my brother-in-law. I hope you will not mind if he is present during the interview. It is largely because of him that I asked you to come to Vienna.”

  “It is a pleasure and an honor to meet Your Majesty…” Swing began.

  “I think, since there are only the three of us present, we can dispense with the formalities,” the Emperor said. “To begin with, I would prefer that you call me Karl, if you don’t mind. Also, I think that we would all be more comfortable if we sat down.”

  “And I would rather you address me as ‘Sixtus’,” the Prince said. “I would like to say that I have been an admirer of your reporting since I first read your stories from the front lines in the Great War, Mr. Swing. I should also tell you that your current assignment was my idea, and that I helped to arrange for certain of Mr. Curtis’s interview requests to be granted. A journalist of your experience is likely to have learned that altruism is not one of the major motivations for foreign policy, even in Austria. So at this point, you may be asking yourself: why?”

  Swing nodded. Obviously, the Austrians wanted a quid pro quo; he was now about to find out the price of their unasked favors. “Actually, I’m not. I’m asking you: why?”

  Sixtus’ face clouded up, and he was on the verge of reminding the American that, informal meeting or not, he was in the presence of His Imperial and Royal Majesty, by the grace of God, Emperor of Austria, Apostolic King of Hungary, Bohemia, Dalmatia, Croatia et cetera, and that he would be well advised to conduct himself in an appropriate manner. Before he could reprimand the brash visitor, Karl chuckled and said, “Yes, I suppose you would probably get more information that way, Mr. Swing.”

  “I hope so,” Swing replied. “By the way, I hope you both will call me ‘Ray’. I’m a little uncomfortable addressing royalty by your first names while you are still calling me ‘Mr. Swing’.”

  “Yes, of course, Ray,” Karl said. “Now, to get back to your question, you may judge the importance I place on your presence here by the fact that the interview for your newspaper is taking place as scheduled in spite of recent events in Hungary. The storm in Budapest will soon blow over, and everything there will return to normal. But this meeting will have a profound effect on the future of the Empire. You must realize by now that the interview was merely a cover for some other purpose. In fact, you were brought here so that we can ask you to perform a diplomatic mission for my government.”

  Swing nodded. “I expected to be sent away this morning, and when I was brought up here instead, I had to wonder what could possibly be so important about an interview for a American newspaper.”

  “First, I must ask if you will swear to keep what you about to hear confidential, whatever your decision is about accepting this assignment,” the Emperor continued. “We will be entrusting you with a state secret.”

  Swing considered for a moment, and then answered, “Yes, I can give you my word that I will keep whatever you tell me confidential. I’ll be happy to put it in writing, if you like.”

  Karl exchanged a glance with his Prime Minister, who nodded, then back at Swing. “You have earned an enviable reputation for discretion, Ray. We believe that your word is quite sufficient. Sixtus, would you be good enough to explain the situation?”

  “For various reasons, the Emperor has decided that the time has come for the Empire to end its association with Germany, and make new diplomatic arrangements with other powers before we are reduced to a vassal state by our powerful neighbor,” Sixtus said. “However, there is the possibility that the government of Germany may not be prepared to accept such a change in our relationship gracefully.”

  “Do you think the Kaiser would invade the Empire if you try to pull out of the Triple Alliance?” Swing asked. “That seems a little extreme, even for Wilhelm.”

  “I would agree that an outright declaration of war is unlikely, although I would not necessarily rule out the possibility,” Karl answered, “but the German political leadership is unpredictable, and almost any reaction short of war is a possibility. For example, they might send troops into our new Ukrainian province on the pretext of quelling ethnic disorder.”

  “In fact, Wilhelm has already issued thinly concealed threats to do something of this sort,” Sixtus added. “But even if we assume that Germany does not pose a threat to the Empire in the short term, there remains the larger
consideration of the future of Europe under German hegemony. I doubt that there is anyone more conscious of this threat than you are.”

  Swing nodded. For years he had been writing about the danger to world peace posed by a Germany newly engorged with land, resources and population all added as a result of the Great War of 1914. He had been largely ignored, a voice in the wilderness, at least in his own country, until the recently concluded Martinique Affair which seemed to have awakened the United States to the German threat. Now it appeared that the crisis had had something of the same effect in Vienna.

  “Well, I can’t argue with your reasoning,” Swing said. “You want to get out from under the Germans, and you need allies to at least make them think twice before they decide to start carving off choice pieces of your Empire. I can understand that well enough. What I am not clear on is my role. Isn’t this the sort of thing you pay your Foreign Minister to handle?”

  “I have no doubt that your American State Department is completely clean of German agents,” Karl began with an ironic smile, “but we in Austria are not so fortunate. If I were to assign this task to my Foreign Office, Kaiser Wilhelm would hear about it before any of my prospective allies. It is my hope that we will be able to keep the meeting of the future partners secret as long as possible, and thus limit the ability of Germany to interfere. It was my Prime Minister’s suggestion that an American journalist such as you, ostensibly traveling about Europe to conduct a series of interviews, would be able to convey our proposals to the governments in question under circumstances which would not attract unwelcome attention. Given your well known views concerning Germany, we hoped that you would be willing to accept this task.”