Katerina’s eyes darkened slightly. She had known from the long hours her father was spending at the Konak that the proposed new constitution was already causing Sandro immense problems.
‘Is that because there is still disagreement over the new borders?’ she asked perceptively.
‘No, the border issues are more or less resolved. The biggest problem facing the new parliament is the union with Croatia.’
They were alone in the drawing-room and he crossed to a sideboard and poured himself a glass of slivovitz. ‘Croatia was left with three choices when the Habsburg empire disintegrated,’ he said frankly. ‘Absorption by Italy, union with ourselves, Slovenia, Bosnia-Herzegovina and Montenegro, or the prospect of going it alone as a new state, a republic on the lines of the new Czech republic.’
He walked back to the fireplace, placed his glass on the mantel shelf and stared down into the coal fire. ‘Very few Croatians relished the idea of being absorbed by Italy and forced to become Italians. Not many, once free of the Habsburgs and able to make a choice, relished the idea of being governed by ourselves. What the vast majority of Croats wanted was a new state, a Croat republic.’
‘Then why didn’t they hold out for one?’ Katerina asked, mystified.
‘Because they knew it would be pointless,’ Alexis said dryly. ‘They hadn’t, through the war years, stated their case with the fervour with which the Czechs had done. I doubt if some western leaders even knew who the Croats were. Even if they did, the western powers were not in the mood to sanction another new state and Croatia knew it.’
‘So they had no real choice?’
‘None whatsoever. What is happening at the moment is that a commission, appointed by the Zagreb National Majority, is negotiating with Alexander and the Prime Minister in the hope that issues which cause them problems, such as Belgrade, and not Zagreb, being the seat of government, can be put to a free vote.’
‘And will they be happy with the result of that vote, whatever it is?’
‘I doubt it,’ Alexis said heavily. ‘They are Catholic. We are Orthodox. At heart they want a republic. We are monarchists through and through. It doesn’t bode well for future harmony, does it?’
Katerina shook her head. She had never been passionate about Serbia becoming part of a united South Slav state and now she was even less so.
Alexis said gravely, affirming all her fears, ‘The main problem is that the majority of our fellow countrymen, Prime Minister Pasich included, view Serbia as being the liberator of all those freed from Habsburg rule and the new kingdom as being not so much a united South Slav state as a Greater Serbia. Those with whom we have united, however, view it very differently. They see the new kingdom, quite rightly, as being a union of equals. What will happen when the gulf between these two viewpoints is exposed is anyone’s guess.’
Katerina went to bed that night in a deeply reflective frame of mind. She knew very well that her father was speaking the truth when he said the new kingdom was being perceived very differently by vast numbers of its members. Natalie had most certainly perceived union with other South Slavs as being all to the greater glory of Serbia and no doubt still did so. The man with whom she had betrayed Julian was, however, a Croat.
As Katerina went quietly into Peter’s room to make sure that he was still tucked snugly beneath his blankets and sleeping soundly she wondered what Nikita Kechko’s perception of the new kingdom was. She also wondered if Natalie was going to be as unprepared for it as she had been when Gavrilo Princip had revealed his true colours to her and shot the Archduke and Duchess.
The next day, for the first time in nearly five years, she went with her mother to the Konak.
‘Alexander wants to welcome us home,’ Zita said as their landau rolled into the Konak’s courtyard. ‘I doubt if he will be able to spare us much time, but it’s a thoughtful gesture.’
It was obvious, almost immediately, that a major cleanup operation was in progress. As they entered the palace vestibule they did so against a tide of workmen, some of them ferrying away rubbish left by the Austrians, others painting and renovating.
Despite the mayhem there were some familiar and reassuring sights. The enormous brown bear reputedly shot by Karageorge himself still stood in a corner, stuffed and erect. Katerina smiled to herself, remembering how its uplifted claws had terrified Natalie and herself when they had been children.
The double-winged doors to the audience room stood wide open and Katerina could see her Great-Aunt Eudocia sitting stiffly on a silk-upholstered sofa and Vitza and Sandro standing nearby.
As soon as Sandro saw her mother and herself he excused himself from Vitza and strode towards them. He greeted her mother first and then herself and as she curtsied Katerina was instantly aware of the drastic change that had taken place in him. Whereas once he had exuded boyish good humour, now there was a reserve about him that was almost tangible.
‘It’s nice to see you back in Belgrade, Katerina,’ he said, and though his voice was sincere there was no welcoming, familiar smile. ‘I had thought you might have stayed in Nice longer. Early spring must be far pleasanter there than it is here.’
‘I wanted to be home,’ she said, feeling awkward with him for the first time in her life.
A shadow crossed his face and she wondered if she had inadvertently reminded him of Natalie. When he spoke she realized it had not been Natalie he had been thinking of, but the Russian grand-duchess he had hoped to marry.
‘Those of us who are home are the lucky ones,’ he said, pain in his clipped, curt tones. ‘No Romanovs will be returning home to St Petersburg. Those who survived are scattered throughout Europe and even America. The Dowager Empress is in Britain, Prince Lvov is in France, Prince Youssoupov is in New York.’
Katerina said nothing. There was nothing she could possibly say. The last time they had met in the Konok it had been on the occasion of the announcement of his unofficial engagement to the Tsar’s eldest daughter. In those far-off days that now seemed so idyllic, the disintegration of the mighty Romanov dynasty had been as unthinkable as the disintegration of the Habsburg or Höhenzollern dynasties. Now no dynastic order existed in central Europe apart from their own. The Armageddon triggered off in Sarajevo had swept them all away. ‘Hélène is in Switzerland,’ he was saying. ‘After the years she spent there as a child she thinks of it as home and is going to stay there.’
He didn’t ask about Natalie and she was glad. It was going to be hard enough answering Vitza’s queries about Natalie with white lies, without having to tell them to Sandro as well.
‘When is Natalie returning home?’ Vitza asked, blissfully ignorant that Natalie was forbidden to do so. ‘Is she happy in London? Is her husband going to return to the British Legation in Belgrade?’
Katerina answered her questions as unprovocatively as possible, trying to turn the subject round to Vitza herself. It was the last thing Vitza wanted to talk about.
‘What is there to say?’ she asked bitterly. ‘I’m twenty-six and unmarried. There isn’t an eligible bachelor left from pre-war days. They’re all either dead or maimed. My grandmother was certain that when the war ended everything would be as it was before. She imagined Sandro giving splendid balls in the Konak and all Belgrade’s haut monde doing likewise. I tried to tell her she was living in a fool’s paradise but it’s taken today to make her realize I was right and she was wrong.’
Katerina looked across to her great-aunt. She was still sitting stiffly erect on a sofa, her jowls as heavy and her bosom as magnificent as ever.
‘Five minutes with Sandro and she realized there were going to be no splendid balls,’ Vitza continued caustically. ‘He’s thirty now and in my opinion he’s turning into a crusty bachelor. Even if he weren’t, you can’t have balls when nearly every male member of the population is crippled in some way and unable to dance. You and Natalie were lucky. You married when there were still able-bodied men available.’
‘I’m a widow, Vitza,’ Katerina p
ointed out gently, ‘and so are many others.’
Vitza had the grace to look ashamed. ‘I know, and I’m sorry. I thought Major Zlarin very handsome. Alexander posthumously awarded him the Karageorge Black Star for gallantry, didn’t he? You must be very proud.’
‘Yes,’ Katerina said, the familiar sensation of guilt settling on her shoulders. ‘I am.’
‘And you have Peter,’ Vitza continued bleakly. ‘I would have liked children.’
Katerina took hold of her hand and squeezed it comfortingly. ‘There’s no reason why you should give up hope of having children, Vitza. Every country in Europe is busy sending young diplomats to Belgrade. There may not be any lavish balls for them to attend but there will be afternoon parties and cocktail parties. You’ll meet someone soon and fall in love.’
‘I wish I could fall in love as romantically and instantaneously as you and Natalie fell in love,’ Vitza said wistfully, unconvinced. ‘Do you remember the day at your home when we were having tea on the lawn and I first saw Major Zlarin? You must have been in love with him then, though I must say you never betrayed it by so much as a flicker of an eyelash. Was that why you refused to introduce him to me? Were you frightened I might steal him away from you?’
Looking into Vitza’s sad, homely face, Katerina felt a great wave of pity and tenderness for her. ‘Yes,’ she lied, ‘of course it was.’
A pleased flush touched Vitza’s cheeks. ‘That’s nice. I’m glad you told me. And you may be right about the diplomats. A new ambassador and his staff are due to arrive at the British Legation any day now. I’ve never really found Englishmen overly attractive but beggars can’t be choosers, can they?’
At that very moment, in his study, Alexis Vassilovich was staring at one of the British Legation’s new members of staff in stupefied disbelief. ‘Belgrade? You’ve been posted to Belgrade? But what about Natalie? Couldn’t you have refused the posting? Couldn’t you have explained that your wife is persona non grata in the new kingdom and that she couldn’t accompany you?’
Julian shook his head. ‘No,’ he said heavily. ‘Any other posting would have been just the same in that Natalie would not have accompanied me but would have remained behind in London.’
Alexis passed an unsteady hand across his eyes and sat down slowly behind his desk.
‘I’m sorry, sir,’ Julian said, wondering how little he could get away with telling him. ‘We both know that my marriage to Natalie was a gamble. She wasn’t in love with me and she was very young, still almost a child …’
‘But I thought you were happy together! When Stephen was born both Zita and I thought…’
‘I thought so too,’ Julian interrupted tautly, ‘but I was wrong. Though I was happy, Natalie was not. Consequently, despite the baby that will be born later this year, we have decided to live apart.’
‘Baby? Natalie is having another baby and yet you’ve left her alone in London …’ Behind his magnificently upturned moustaches, Alexis’s face was even more disbelieving than it had been when Julian had walked into the room. ‘Such a course of action is unforgivable! It’s utterly dishonourable! It’s…’
‘It is what Natalie wants,’ Julian said, his voice tauter than ever. It was a lie, but it was a lot more merciful than telling Alexis the truth and, in consequence, telling him the truth about the baby’s paternity. ‘And she isn’t alone,’ he added, trying to ease Alexis’s anguish. ‘She’s living with my parents and sister.’
Alexis groaned and rested his head in his hands. The marriage between Julian and Natalie had been his idea and it had been taken for selfish purposes. For nearly five years he had been able to live with the guilt he felt because he had believed it was a marriage in which Natalie had learned to be happy. Now the knowledge that she had never done so weighed on his heart like a physical weight.
‘I’m sorry, sir,’ Julian said again, his own anguish glaringly obvious.
Slowly Alexis lowered his hands from his face and looked across at him. ‘My suggestion that you marry Natalie has not only, apparently, made Natalie bitterly unhappy, it has quite obviously ruined your life as well. I owe you an apology, Julian. I hope you will accept it.’
‘You have no need to apologize,’ Julian said vehemently. ‘You only suggested the marriage. I was the one who leapt at the suggestion and if I were faced with the same decision again I would, God help me, make the same decision.’
Alexis forced himself wearily to his feet and crossed the room to a glass-fronted drinks cabinet. ‘Join me in a glass of klekovacha,’ he said, reaching for a decanter of plum brandy distilled with juniper. ‘Not for celebration this time, but for comfort.’
Alexis let out a heartfelt sigh of relief. The worst was over. His father-in-law now knew all he needed to know about his and Natalie’s estrangement and would inform Zita and Katerina of it. Not for the first time he wondered if Natalie had confided in Katerina when they were in Nice and if Katerina would know more about the circumstances leading up to their estrangement than he had told Alexis. If she did, he fervently hoped she would have the perception to keep her knowledge to herself.
‘Zita and Katerina are at the Konak,’ Alexis said, pouring the klekovacha into two crystal glasses. ‘The Prince Regent is sparing precious time from his negotiations with the Zagreb National Majority to welcome formally all his female relatives back to the city.’
He handed a glass to Julian. ‘It’s a courteous action on his part,’ he continued, glad of a non-controversial subject of mutual interest, ‘but I think some of them are going to be disappointed by the change that has taken place in him.’
‘In what way, sir?’ Julian asked, as grateful as Alexis that personal matters had been temporarily set aside.
Alexis drained his glass in one swallow and said meditatively, ‘The war has changed him, as it has changed all of us. He’s become very monastic and spartan in his tastes and that won’t suit the ladies.’
He sat down again stiffly, the changes the war had wrought in his health, obvious.
‘Although he is having the Konak refurbished he isn’t in residence there and doesn’t intend taking up residence there,’ he continued, disclosing a piece of information he hadn’t yet had the courage to disclose to his wife and daughter. ‘He’s moved into a one-storey house within sight of the Konak and he’s furnished it as if it were a military headquarters. Straightback chairs, solid tables, his old camp writing-table, a soldier’s bed. His cousins and aunts are going to be appalled when they find out. After nearly five years of war and agonizing hardship they’ve been looking forward to the glitter of court life again and I’m afraid they’re going to be denied it.’
Julian was just about to say that he thought the Prince Regent eminently sensible in organizing his life in a way that suited himself and not his relatives, when there came the distant sound of the front door being opened. Seconds later footsteps crossed the marbled hall and Zita’s and Katerina’s voices could be clearly heard.
Julian’s and Alexis’s eyes held in mutual horror.
‘I had hoped you would be able to pre-warn them!’ Julian said hoarsely.
The expression on Alexis’s face told him Alexis had been hoping the very same thing.
‘The problem was, I left England so suddenly it was pointless writing,’ Julian continued, feeling some apology for what was now about to happen was called for. ‘The letter would have arrived here no sooner than I did myself …’
Zita’s and Katerina’s footsteps approached the study door, there was a token tap on one of the oak panels and then, without waiting for a reply, Zita opened the door and entered, Katerina close behind her.
At the sight of Julian she came to a halt so abruptly that Katerina stumbled into the back of her.
‘Mama! What on earth …’ she began, and then she, too, saw.
Alexis had risen to his feet as speedily as his rheumatism would allow.
‘My dears! I’m afraid you’ve taken us completely by surprise…’
&
nbsp; ‘Julian!’ Zita was saying in stunned disbelief, disregarding her husband. ‘Julian! What on earth are you doing in Belgrade?’ She crossed the room towards him, pleasure at seeing him overcoming her shock. ‘Are you en route for Athens?’ she asked, kissing him warmly on the cheek. ‘Is that to where you have been posted? Is Natalie waiting for you at the border?’
She had had to stand on tiptoe to give him her welcoming kiss and as she stepped away from him and he didn’t flash her one of his heartwarming, down-slanting smiles, she realized at once that something was wrong.
‘What is it?’ she asked urgently, her own smile vanishing. ‘Is it Natalie? Has there been an accident?’
Alexis walked heavily towards her and slid an arm around her shoulders. ‘Natalie is perfectly safe,’ he said, before Julian could answer her, ‘and she is in London.’
‘London?’ Zita looked from her son-in-law to her husband uncomprehendingly. ‘I don’t understand…’
‘Sit down, my dear,’ Alexis said gently. ‘Sit down and let me tell you to what my selfishness has tragically led.’
Numbly she allowed him to lead her to a velvet-covered, button-back chair. In white-faced trepidation she waited for him to continue.
‘Natalie married Julian for all our sakes,’ he said, choosing his words carefully. ‘We all know that. Julian was certainly aware that Natalie was not in love with him when they married but, like us, he believed that his love for her would be sufficient for their happiness and that Natalie would learn to love him.’
Knowing now what was to come Zita gave a low, anguished moan.
Zadruga Page 38
