Zadruga

by Margaret Pemberton

  Only too glad for a legitimate excuse to meet with Alexis and perhaps bring up the intriguing subject of the Black Hand, Julian wasted no time. Five minutes later he was striding through the hot narrow streets towards the Vassilovichs’ white-walled Belgrade home.

  Alexis greeted him urbanely. He saw no reason why the British shouldn’t be told the truth about King Peter’s intentions, especially as there was to be an official announcement later that week.

  ‘King Peter has not been well for some time,’ he said, handing Julian a glass of slivovitz pungently distilled with juniper berries. ‘He needs to take a long and much-needed rest. While he does so, Crown Prince Alexander will take over his duties and govern in his name.’

  ‘As Regent?’

  Alexis nodded, sipped at his plum brandy and said, ‘Yes, as Regent.’

  There were a lot more questions Julian would have liked to have asked but Alexis’s tone of voice indicated he had said all he wished to on the subject.

  Julian swirled the slivovitz around in his glass. What he really wanted to talk to Alexis about was the Black Hand. He wondered how to go about it and decided that frankness was the best course. Taking a deep breath he said as casually as possible, ‘There’s something else I would like to ask you about, sir. I wonder if you could give me any information on an organization of which I’ve recently heard rumours. It’s nationalistic in spirit and goes by the name of the Black Hand.’

  Alexis Vassilovich’s reaction was almost comic. He dropped his glass. It rolled on the Bokhara rug, the slivovitz seeping into it and staining it. He was oblivious. ‘Where the devil did you hear of the Black Hand?’ he asked hoarsely, his normally imperturbable face ashen.

  Julian’s mind raced. The Black Hand was obviously of far more importance than he had realized or, from the way she had spoken of it, than Katerina had realized. If he answered her father’s question truthfully it might make things very awkward for her. And if he didn’t, and if she guilelessly mentioned the organization to anyone else, then it might make things more than awkward for her. It might cause her very serious trouble.

  Mindful of the relationship he hoped to one day have with Alexis Vassilovich and knowing that Alexis would be the best person to protect Katerina if she should have talked carelessly to anyone else, he trusted well-honed instinct and said, ‘It was Katerina, sir. She thought you wouldn’t mind my knowing about it…’

  ‘Holy God!’ Alexis Vassilovich’s face had gone whiter than ever.

  ‘… she quite obviously didn’t regard it as a forbidden subject…’

  ‘Stay here.’ Alexis Vassilovich collected himself with an effort and began to stride towards the door. ‘I shall be back in a few minutes. Whatever you do, don’t leave until we’ve spoken further.’

  ‘No, sir. Of course not…’

  The door slammed and he was alone, wondering what on earth was so terrible about the Gothically-named Black Hand that it would cause a sophisticated, seasoned politician such consternation.

  ‘Where did you hear of it, Katerina?’ Alexis was again in control and in command but the tension in his voice was unmistakable.

  Katerina looked at him in faint surprise. She was in the sunny Italian drawing-room, reading Madame Bovary.

  ‘From you, Papa. You were talking to Mama and…’

  ‘And who else have you mentioned it to?’ He could spend time cursing himself for a fool later. What he had to do now was to ascertain the extent of the damage.

  ‘I’ve spoken about it to Mama. No-one else.’ She slid her book off her knee and on to the sofa and stood up, her face troubled. ‘Was I wrong to talk about it to Julian Fielding?’

  He didn’t answer her. He said abruptly, ‘No-one else? No-one at all?’

  She shook her head.

  He breathed an unsteady sigh of relief and then said, ‘It was wrong to talk about it, but you weren’t to know. I’ve always talked to you quite openly about politics and the problems facing your uncle and if I was so careless to talk about the Black Hand in your hearing, there’s no reason why you should have thought it a taboo subject.’

  ‘You said that the less secrecy there was about the Black Hand, the better it would be …’

  Alexis groaned and passed a hand across his eyes.

  Katerina slid her hand into his free hand, saying urgently, ‘Have I done something very terrible, Papa? Is my having spoken about the Black Hand going to cause you immense problems?’

  He lowered his hand from his face. ‘Not necessarily,’ he said, praying to God that Fielding hadn’t already spoken carelessly and in public of it. ‘What I’m more concerned about is your safety.’

  ‘My safety?’ She looked at him in bewilderment. ‘I’m sorry. I don’t understand.’

  ‘Then I shall have to make you understand,’ he said heavily. ‘And I shall have to make Fielding understand too. He’s waiting for me in my study. Come with me and I’ll speak to the two of you together.’

  She had day-dreamed about such a meeting between the three of them, but in her day-dream the subject under discussion had been a very different one. With strongly conflicting emotions she accompanied him down the corridor. She was fiercely looking forward to seeing Julian again but she didn’t want to look foolish in his eyes, and having inadvertently spoken of something she should not have spoken about, she was afraid she might.

  When they entered the room he shot her a warm, reassuring smile, instantly allaying her fears. She smiled back at him gratefully and then her father closed the door behind them.

  ‘It seems I’ve been very careless,’ he said, turning towards them both. ‘As a consequence I’m going to have to be very frank and I’m going to have to ask you to give me your word that what I am about to say will go no further than these four walls.’

  ‘But of course, Papa!’ Katerina was stung at the very idea of again being indiscreet.

  Her father merely nodded. He hadn’t been worried by the prospect of Katerina again talking carelessly. It was Julian Fielding who concerned him.

  ‘As a servant of the British government my situation is rather difficult,’ Julian began cautiously.

  ‘As a father, my position is even more so.’ Alexis retorted crisply.

  Julian flushed. ‘I would never do anything that would compromise the safety of any member of this family, sir,’ he said with palpable sincerity.

  Remembering the hints Katerina had given him regarding their burgeoning relationship, Alexis was satisfied of his trustworthiness.

  ‘The Black Hand is a secret society,’ he said, determining to keep his explanation as brief as possible. ‘So secret that its initiates vow death to anyone who reveals its secrets.’

  Julian waited for him to smile dryly and to begin talking seriously. When he didn’t do so he said hesitantly, ‘You are joking, sir?’

  ‘It’s no joke,’ Alexis replied grimly, retreating behind his massive Biedermeir desk and sitting down. ‘That is why I had to have your promise that you wouldn’t speak of it outside this room. If it should come to certain ears that Katenna had been talking of the Black Hand to a British diplomat her life would most certainly be in danger.’

  ‘I still don’t understand …’ Fierce excitement and utter horror battled for supremacy in him. Excitement at being privvy to knowledge of an organization of which his fellow diplomats were ignorant. Horror at the promise he had given that he wouldn’t reveal what was said to him to anyone, not even his minister. ‘I still don’t understand,’ he said again. ‘If you are a member of the Black Hand, surely you can secure Katerina’s safety…’

  Alexis’s hard-won control momentarily slipped. ‘God in heaven, I’m not a member of it!’ he exploded, rising to his feet as precipitately as he had sat down and striding across the room to the long windows that looked out over the courtyard. ‘I know about it because it’s my business to know such things.’

  He didn’t add that as the organization had been illicitly formed and was illicitly led by the Chief
of Army Intelligence he would have been extremely negligent if he hadn’t known about it. He stared broodingly down into the courtyard where Natalie and Bella were playing zestfully with a ball and then said abruptly, ‘Did Katerina tell you its aims?’

  ‘I told him its aims were to free all Slavs living under Habsburg domination, Papa,’ Katerina said, relieved that he hadn’t made her look foolish and thankful that she truthfully knew very little else.

  ‘And that violence was sanctioned in order that those aims could be achieved,’ Julian added, knowing that it was the sanction of violence which was the crux of the matter.

  ‘And that’s all?’

  ‘Except that you had said the less secret the Black Hand was, the healthier it would be,’ Katerina said, knowing that the statement absolved her of the least accusation of indiscretion.

  ‘And so it would be,’ her father said tersely, ‘but indiscretions need to come from inside the organization in order to damage it and lessen its power. An indiscretion from elsewhere would result with the person in question merely being murdered…’

  ‘But why?’

  ‘To stop them continuing to disclose Black Hand secrets and to serve as a warning to other Black Hand initiates not to talk.’

  Julian stared at him. If Black Hand members were prepared to kill rather than have the acts they committed becoming public knowledge, then those acts had to be truly terrible. He racked his brains to think of the crimes for which they had probably been responsible.

  Had it been Black Hand members who had attempted to assassinate Emperor Franz Josef three years ago? And had it been Black Hand members who had attempted to gun down the governor of Croatia and who had missed and killed a bystander and a policeman instead? And then there had been the attempted murder of the governor of Bosnia. Again the attempt had failed but the young would-be assassin had been fanatical enough to turn his gun on himself and to commit suicide. If all those crimes had been perpetrated by the Black Hand then no wonder its members were vowed to utter secrecy.

  Despite his revulsion for the methods used he felt a surge of admiration for whoever had formed the organization. Habsburg officialdom was being attacked from within the countries it governed and without any blame being laid at Serbia’s door. It was damned clever and, as far as the prospects of continued uneasy peace in the Balkans was concerned, it was damned dangerous.

  ‘Does the Black Hand have official sanction?’ he asked, well aware of the enormity of his question.

  Alexis’s face tightened. ‘No,’ he said shortly. ‘Absolutely and emphatically not.’

  It wasn’t a lie. Julian, with a diplomat’s ear for the nuances in speech revealing lies and subterfuge, would have known if it had been, but he sensed that it came very close to being one. He was intrigued. If neither King Peter nor his government were sanctioning Black Hand activities who, dangerously close to be being able to do so officially, was sanctioning them? The answer came with such suddenness that he gasped aloud.

  Apis. It was Apis who had masterminded the assassination of King Alexander and Queen Draga. Apis who had put the elderly Peter on the throne in the hope that he would pursue an aggressive policy against Austria-Hungary. And Peter had not done so. Instead he had concentrated on building a stable economy for Serbia and so Apis, thwarted, had taken matters into his own hands and in a way he hoped would never lead back to him, or to Serbia.

  Knowing that no matter what the cost and despite the promise he had just made, he couldn’t possibly keep such information to himself he said, not trusting himself to look in Katerina’s direction, ‘I’m going to have to renege on the promise I made to you, sir. As a servant of His Majesty’s Government I am honour bound to inform my minister of the Black Hand’s existence and its aims.’

  ‘And Katerina?’ Alexis’s nostrils were pinched and white.

  ‘There will be no danger to Katerina, sir. I promise. I will explain the situation fully to my minister and no-one else in the British Legation will know of it. The British government, however, has to know of it and the minister is the proper person to pass on such information.’

  Alexis remained silent, deep in thought. It was just possible that a beneficial situation had arisen out of a difficult one. It would be no bad thing if the British government was informed as to the existence of the Black Hand from an impeccable Serbian government source and was also informed that King Peter and his ministers disassociated themselves utterly from it. Then, if Apis perpetrated a crime that scandalized Britain and if it became known that the crime had originated in Serbia, there would be a chance for the Serbian government to escape any blame for it.

  He said slowly, ‘I appreciate your position but I must have your promise before God that no-one else in Belgrade, apart from your minister, hears a word of what we have just discussed.’

  ‘You have my promise, sir.’

  It was a far less theatrical promise of secrecy than the promise made by Black Hand initiates who made their vow in a room lit only by a candle and at a table covered by a black cloth on which were displayed a dagger, a revolver, and a crucifix. As he thought of all he had been told of Black Hand initiation ceremonies he was grateful he hadn’t had to detail them to an Englishman who would have regarded them all as being the most ridiculous Slav mumbo-jumbo.

  ‘Then the subject is closed,’ he said, walking across the room and opening the door.

  Katerina remained standing in the centre of the room. Julian looked across at her and smiled. It was a smile of caring complicity and it warmed and reassured her as he had intended it should.

  ‘Goodbye,’ he said, wishing he could have stayed and talked to her without her father’s presence; wishing he could have spoken to her about Natalie.

  ‘Goodbye.’ She could hear the regret in his voice and she knew that at the earliest opportunity he would seek her out and talk to her again in private.

  Happily confident of the future she watched him as he left the room and then crossed to the window, hoping to catch a glimpse of him as he walked outside into the courtyard.

  Alexis escorted Julian down to the circular, rococo entrance hall. He would have to inform the Prime Minister of what he had done, but he was sure Pasich would see the wisdom of his action, especially if anything untoward happened next week in Bosnia.

  Bosnia. He still hadn’t told Natalie and Katerina that they were to accompany him on his unofficial visit there. He would tell them that evening at dinner. And he would write again to Bosnia’s governor, stressing the need for vigilance and tight security.

  ‘Bosnia?’ Natalie stared at him across the lavishly laden dinner table in startled surprise. ‘But why, Papa?’

  Alexis crumpled his napkin and laid it by the side of his plate. He had deferred the announcement until now because he had known what Natalie’s reaction would be when she was told and he hated scenes, however minor.

  ‘Archduke Franz Ferdinand is visiting Sarajevo to oversee the manoeuvres of the Fifteenth and Sixteenth Army Corps. There hasn’t been a Habsburg royal visit since Emperor Franz Josef visited four years ago and…’

  ‘No, Papa!’ Natalie’s face was white. ‘Uncle Peter can’t possibly expect you to represent Serbia on such an occasion! It’s unthinkable!’

  Privately Alexis agreed with her. He had used the exact same words to Pasich when Pasich had informed him that the heir to the Austrian throne was to visit Sarajevo and that it had been decided it would be politically beneficial if Serbia was represented in some way.

  He said now, ‘It isn’t unthinkable, Natalie. Such gestures between states which are at odds with each other keep the doors of political negotiation open and…’

  ‘Negotiation?’ Natalie pushed her chair away from the table almost in tears. ‘Negotiation? We should be at war with the Austrians, Papa, not negotiating with them!’

  If only Serbia were strong enough for war he would have been in agreement with her. As it was he said patiently, ‘All countries make such outward shows of goodwil
l even when no goodwill exists. Think of the Kaiser’s many visits to Britain.’

  Natalie didn’t care about the Kaiser. She was thinking about Gavrilo and Nedjelko and Trifko and wondering what on earth they would say when they heard of the visit and of her family’s participation in it.

  ‘I can’t go, Papa,’ she said unsteadily as Bella skittered around her ankles. ‘I understand that you have to go, but I can’t.’

  ‘We all have to go,’ her mother interposed. ‘Our presence there isn’t to be official but your uncle regards it as being important.’

  ‘How long will we be there?’ Katerina asked, concerned. She hadn’t seen Julian Fielding since the interview in her father’s study and she had been hoping to see him within the next few days.

  ‘Four days, possibly five.’

  ‘And when do we leave?’

  ‘At the end of the week.’

  Natalie grasped hold of the back of her chair. ‘Please make an excuse for me not to have to go, Papa. Vitza has chicken-pox and you could say that I have…’

  ‘No.’ It was said without anger but Natalie knew that it was utterly final.

  In despair she turned away, tears stinging her eyes. If Gavrilo ever got to hear of it he would never speak to her again. Even worse, he might think she was an informer.

  Bella was running in circles around her and she picked her up, hugging her close. Her father had said that their visit wasn’t to be an official one which meant it might not be reported in the Belgrade papers. Perhaps, with luck, no-one in Belgrade would learn of it.

  It meant she wouldn’t be able to go to the Golden Sturgeon later in the week as she had planned. A friend of Gavrilo’s had told her that Gavrilo and Nedjelko and Trifko were all back from their training manoeuvres in Bosnia and they would, no doubt, be full of stories of what had happened to them while they had been there. To sit with them, knowing that she was going to Bosnia herself within a few days and that she couldn’t possibly let them find out, would be deceit on too grand a scale, even for her.