The Kaiser's Last Kiss

by Alan Judd

  The Princess threw her napkin theatrically into the air, letting it fall to the floor behind her. ‘This is wonderful news. Something happens at last. You see, Willie, it is as I told you: you have to make the first move with these people because they do not know how to approach you. They are too much in awe. Now with Himmler coming, it is almost as good as Hitler. It shows they are serious. We must show that we appreciate that. We shall use the Großen table service.’

  The Kaiser shook his head. ‘The Neuosier service, my dear. That is the imperial service I had made, that was made for me, in the Berlin porcelain manufactory. It would be more appropriate and it is more replaceable than the Großen. One does not know how these people behave at table.’

  The Princess laughed. ‘Really, Willie, I am sure Herr Himmler knows how to hold his knife and fork. Indeed, he has royal connections, has he not, with Prince Heinrich of Bavaria?’

  ‘More like a railway connection than anything royal. His father was tutor to the princeling who later became young Himmler’s godfather and after whom the boy was named Heinrich. Von Islemann is more royal than that, probably also Untersturmführer Krebbs for all we know, eh?’ The Kaiser waved his cigarette and laughed.

  ‘Forgive me, your Highness, but my orders are that the staff are not permitted to know the identity of the visitor in advance,’ repeated Krebbs, looking at von Islemann. He felt awkward but it was essential to be correct.

  The Kaiser appeared not to have heard him. ‘Surely, your aunts were more royal?’ he asked von Islemann. ‘The four that were starved by the English, eh? How many aunts did you have?’

  ‘Seven, your Highness.’

  ‘Seven?’ The Kaiser pulled at his cigarette. ‘That is enough aunts, I think. A sufficiency of aunts.’ He laughed again, his left hand resting on his belly.

  The Princess looked at Krebbs, not unkindly. ‘Von Islemann is entirely trustworthy. You need not worry about him, Herr Leutnant. He is more than staff, almost family. He will help you in your preparations.’

  Von Islemann smiled slightly and nodded at Krebbs as though they were fellow conspirators. ‘The Untersturmführer is of course correct to follow his instructions precisely, but I am sure that his superiors would at the same time wish him to interpret them in such a way that they be most effectively fulfilled.’ Afterwards, he followed Krebbs up to his desk in the corridor. ‘No doubt you have everything under proper control, Untersturmführer, but please say if there is anything you need. The household staff are well accustomed to receiving important guests and you may be sure they will do everything properly. But there is always the unexpected and I know well what anxiety such visits can cause. Please regard me as being at your disposal.’

  Although von Islemann spoke no less formally than ever, this time Krebbs did not detect any mocking or patronising edge. He stood and nodded his acknowledgement. ‘Thank you, Herr Hauptmann. I shall not hesitate to ask if need be.’

  ‘Does your guest stay long?’

  ‘One night only, I am informed.’

  ‘A pity. It would be instructive to see more of him. Although perhaps we shall find that one evening’s conversation is sufficient to form an accurate impression.’ His slight, complicitous, smile returned. ‘Good luck, Untersturmführer.’

  Apart from the household arrangements, Krebbs had also to ensure that the guard was spick and span, that the gatehouse was smart and those on duty briefed. Unfortunately, there was no time to cut the lawns. It was not for his soldiers to do, of course, but they would have made a better job of it than the slow-moving Dutch gardeners. He got them sweeping the paths again, which improved things. Two were due for leave that day, but he cancelled that.

  It was nearly mid-morning by the time he reached the servants’ rooms in the attic. They were small and without fireplaces but at least they were individual, so there was some privacy despite the flimsy wooden walls. Only in coming or going was there a chance of being observed, unless, between you, you made too much noise. There were no locks on the doors.

  He had not seen Akki that morning and she was not in her room. It was her morning off, one of the other girls said. She had gone into the village but would be back before lunch. She hadn’t, of course, known about any important visitors when she left.

  Krebbs contemplated the chaste single bed, her clothes and uniform on the hook behind the door – there was no wardrobe, no room for one – and the plain kitchen chair bearing a cheap red alarm clock and a Dutch novel. On the small chest of drawers were a washbasin and jug, her hairbrush and other small bits and pieces, with a mirror propped against the wall. A low, open door led into an eaves cupboard, in which he could see an old brown suitcase flat on the floor with a pair of black shoes on top. Also on the chair by the bed was a tiny vase of flowers he couldn’t identify but which gave off a faint scent. Like the other servants’ rooms, it was impersonal and temporary, yet the modesty of her possessions compared with the clutter of her colleagues and her economical orderliness – with the exception of the open eaves cupboard – made it seem paradoxically more personal. He was alone, and could have opened all the drawers and searched everything, as he had the others, but didn’t. All he did was pick up the book. It looked like a love-story, with a picture of a dark-haired girl on the cover wearing a red blouse and a black skirt. She looked a little like Akki herself, though her hair was shorter and more wavy. He opened the book at the page with the bookmark, saw it was all dense text and no dialogue, and put it down.

  Later, the Princess summoned him. She was in the Yellow Room, her own sitting-room, alone but for an audience of painted Hohenzollerns. Since breakfast she had changed into more formal clothes, a green dress with long buttoned sleeves and small lace cuffs. She again wore her long pearl necklace and pendant pearl earrings. Rouge made her puffy cheeks look bigger.

  ‘Herr Leutnant,’ she began, the moment Krebbs appeared, ‘we have a task to perform together. Between us, we have to ensure that this visit is a success for all concerned. It is my devout hope that Herr Himmler is coming to invite Willie – His Majesty – to return and take up the throne again, to be titular head of the German people in their time of need and danger. This is what I have been working for, through my contacts.’ She played with a lace handkerchief in her large hands, as she had the napkin at table. ‘It is what Willie hopes for, too, I know, but because he hopes for it so very much he cannot bring himself to admit it for fear of disappointment and that is why he speaks as he did earlier about Herr Himmler and the Nazis. Really, he admires them and would love to be back in Berlin with them, helping them in their struggle. But he fears rejection. If he were rejected a second time it would surely kill him. I hope he will be sensible with Herr Himmler, with whom I am sure he will find much in common’ – she smiled anxiously, twisting her handkerchief – ‘but I hope too that you understand his predicament and if necessary can explain to Herr Himmler the background. I hope I can myself but it is not always easy if one is a member of the royal family, and you must know Herr Himmler and know better how to talk to him. And if you have any worries, if you are thinking any misunderstandings are developing, you will please, please tell me so that together we may prevent them?’

  It was novel for Krebbs to be given a sense of political power, however exaggerated her conception of his influence. ‘Of course, your Highness, I shall be happy to help in any way I can.’

  She looked almost tearfully relieved. Her eyes shone and she clenched her handkerchief. ‘Thank you, thank you. And you – you have family, yes?’ She nodded as he told her, smiling all the time. ‘I should like to help them somehow. Perhaps we may discuss it after the visit.’

  Krebbs was puzzled for a moment, then embarrassed, but there was no time to linger. ‘Of course, your Highness.’

  Later, while Krebbs was telephoning the gatehouse from his desk, the Kaiser came out of his study, puffing a small cigar and holding another book, which he pushed between Krebbs’s face and the phone. ‘The English author, remember? Wodehouse.
The one you should read.’

  Although irritated by the old man’s regal – or perhaps child-like – assumption of priority, his constant failure to acknowledge or even notice what anyone else was doing, Krebbs put down the phone. The book was in English.

  ‘There, you see?’ continued the Kaiser. ‘Very funny, eh? English humour. Mine too, though of course I also have German humour.’ He laughed and blew smoke into Krebbs’s face.

  ‘I don’t read English, your Highness.’

  ‘You don’t? You don’t?’ The Kaiser raised his eyebrows in mock surprise. ‘I shall translate it for you later.’ He stood reading to himself for a while, smiling and nodding, before walking slowly back into his study.

  Krebbs picked up the phone again. The gatehouse had been in the middle of saying something about visitors. As he waited for them to answer he saw Akki walking back across the park, carrying a black shopping bag. Again, she paused as she crossed the moat. There would be no time to see her that day. He was sharp with the gatehouse when they answered.

  Later, when he was in the kitchen in the midst of an unsatisfactory discussion about catering, he was summoned again by the Kaiser and Princess. They were in the Gobelin Room, he was told, as if he would know which that was. It turned out to be the reception hall, named after the ancient tapestries hanging from the walls. Husband and wife stood in silence when he entered, each facing a different window. The Kaiser held a fresh cigarette in his right hand. He turned as soon as Krebbs entered. His face looked heavier and darker.

  ‘So, I am a prisoner in my own house? And my friends are not permitted to visit me? And I presumably am not allowed to leave if I wish? This is your doing, Untersturmführer, you and your wonderful Schutzstaffel. May I beg – may His Majesty the Kaiser beg’ – he affected a mocking bow – ‘an explanation, eh?’

  The Princess stepped forward. ‘Willie, please, this is not –’

  ‘Thank you, my dear, I am quite sure our wonderful Schutzstaffel, our wonderful protection squad, which is here to protect us, is quite capable of answering for itself.’

  The Princess’s fleshy features were riven with concern. ‘Willie – His Highness – was disturbed to receive a telephone call from Herr and Frau Schwarz, friends of ours who had called to see us and were turned away by your soldiers at the gatehouse, with no explanation. They feared that something terrible had happened, perhaps even that we had been taken away.’ Her voice tailed off and she stared at Krebbs in anxious appeal.

  Remaining at attention always gave Krebbs confidence because it was so obviously correct; it could not be faulted. He addressed the Kaiser formally. ‘As your Highness may recall from my description of the signal I received, all visitors to Huis Doorn and the grounds were forbidden from the time I received the signal until after the Reichsführer’s visit. This is for the security of the Reichsführer and also for your Highness’s, since if his presence here were known Doorn might be attacked by disaffected elements or by English aircraft. My soldiers have orders to explain to visitors that this is a temporary measure and to take names and addresses so that your Highness may contact them afterwards and give a suitable explanation. I regret it if this has not occurred and shall make inquiries. Meanwhile, I offer my apologies. But the exclusion of visitors must continue.’

  Taking pleasure in his own correctness, Krebbs continued looking the Kaiser directly in the eye after he had finished. His was now the voice of power, of real, present, palpable power. The Kaiser must know that as well as anyone.

  The Kaiser said nothing for a few moments. Blue smoke still rose in a thin line from his cigarette as he stared back at Krebbs. When eventually he spoke his voice was quiet. ‘The time was when no one said no to the Kaiser in such a way. The Kaiser saw whom he chose when he chose. Other people knew their places and other organisations were not too mighty. But God saw to it that the Kaiser fell, so that he became as nothing. In just this way will He bring down others, be they never so mighty.’ He put his cigarette to his lips and walked slowly from the room.

  The Princess waited until his footfalls had faded, then smiled weakly. She was almost in tears. ‘Poor Willie, he takes it so badly. It is always a sign that he is upset when he mentions God. He cannot bring himself to ask for anything from this new Reich. They must ask him. It is not because he doesn’t like them, it’s because of what he was, what he still is. I do hope they will see that.’ Her finger traced the marquetry on one of the chests of drawers. The action appeared to revive her. ‘Does Herr Himmler bring Margarete, his wife, with him?’

  ‘The signal says his wife is ill and remains in Berlin. He will bring two adjutants and his secretary, Hedwig Potthast.’

  The Princess inspected her fingertip for dust. ‘Of course, Fräulein Mouse. It will not be necessary for you to find them separate rooms, I think.’

  A second signal gave the Reichsführer’s estimated time of arrival as four p.m. That relaxed things a little, particularly with the kitchen since there was no need to worry about lunch. The Princess had said that she and the major-domo would decide the dinner menu. Having therefore made all the arrangements he could, Krebbs was free to re-inspect, he explained to the corporal of the guard, those parts of the house he had searched only superficially.

  Akki was in her room. Her grey eyes showed something apart from surprise when she answered his knock. It gratified him to have an effect.

  ‘I’m glad it’s you,’ she said, smiling after a moment. ‘At first when I saw your uniform I thought you were Herr Himmler himself.’

  ‘Herr Himmler?’

  ‘He is the visitor, is he not? The one who is coming today? He is the reason I have to return to duty on my morning off.’

  ‘You should not have been told his identity. Who told you?’

  ‘Nobody told us. Nobody tells us anything, so we have to find out everything for ourselves. The Kaiser and the Princess were overheard talking, that is all. What does it matter? We shall know anyway when he comes.’ She wore the checked, short-sleeved, v-necked dress he had seen her in earlier, the alternative maids’ dress to the longer black ones they sometimes wore. It ended just below the knee, showing most of her calves. As she spoke she looped a clean white apron over her head. Her eyes were playful. ‘You look so serious when you think something is wrong.’

  ‘I have come to inspect your room, as I have inspected all the others. I was here before when you were out but I preferred to inspect it with you.’

  ‘I hope you will find everything correct, Untersturmführer.’

  ‘It is very tidy and so far I have found no saboteurs. The eaves cupboard door was open before but now it is closed, so it is even tidier.’

  She glanced at the cupboard as she reached behind her waist to tie the apron, pulling it tight across her. He went over to the bed and picked up the book from the chair. ‘What is this?’

  ‘A book.’

  ‘What kind of book, please?’

  ‘Not a book for soldiers. Still less for Schutzstaffel.’

  Afterwards, he could never precisely recollect the sequence, though he tried often. She was standing very close to him and at some point must have relieved him of the book, though whether his arm was already around her or whether he put it around her as she did it, he could not say. It was even possible that he had put the book down himself. The next he knew they were kissing, properly and fully this time, and he was crushing her to him. She seemed to take possession of him, as he of her, making him feel at once helpless and invigorated. They subsided clumsily on to the bed, his boot knocking the chair.

  She stopped him. ‘Not now, please. Not now.’

  ‘There’s time. It’s all right. We’ve got time. No one will bother us here.’ His voice sounded thicker to his own ears.

  ‘They will, I’m due downstairs now.’ She tried to wriggle out from under him. ‘Someone will come up. It would not be good for my position here. Nor for yours.’

  He grinned, lying on top of her and pinning her arms to the pillow.
Their faces were still very close, almost touching. ‘My position feels very good just now. So does yours.’

  ‘Von Islemann would find out. He would tell the Princess. And then Herr Himmler would find out and that would be bad for you.’

  ‘Why should Herr Himmler mind? He has his mistress and is bringing her with him.’

  ‘But she is not Jewish.’

  Krebbs said nothing. After a while he rolled over, and let her get up. She went to the mirror on the chest of drawers, straightened her hair and re-tied her apron. Krebbs remained on the bed, resting on his elbow.

  ‘Why did you tell me?’

  ‘I thought you would wish to know. I wanted you to.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Because I like you.’

  ‘Why do you think it is important for me to know this fact?’

  ‘It might make a difference for you.’

  She did not look round. He watched her face as she reordered her hair in the mirror but she did not meet his eyes. He got up and stood behind her. ‘Why do you think it might make a difference?’

  ‘Does it not? It must do, surely. It does to many people here in Holland. It must do even more to you Germans. It does to me, too.’

  She removed her hair-slide and held it between her teeth while repositioning her bun. He wanted her even more now than before.

  ‘Don’t worry, you won’t have caught anything, it’s not contagious.’ She fastened the clip.

  ‘I wasn’t thinking that.’

  ‘It’s what you believe, isn’t it? You people in Shutzstaffel? Contact with us would corrupt and besmirch you.’

  ‘Have you told anyone else here? Does anyone else know?’

  ‘Only you.’

  ‘It is dangerous to tell people. Even with me, you are taking a risk. Especially with me, many would say. Why did you take such a risk?’

  ‘I told you.’

  It was curious that he should want her even more now. Curious, too, that already he should feel he was betraying something. He had not actually done anything, yet he knew that that was not what was important. Could all he had been told and believed about contact with Jews, especially their filthy women, evaporate so easily, after a few conversations and a couple of minutes on the bed? And with a housemaid? That he could let everyone down so easily, so comprehensively, was shocking. But, now that it had happened, it seemed unsurprising, felt almost normal. Of course there must be Jews and Jews. Some Jews were less Jewish than others, perhaps.