Codeword Golden Fleece (5 page)

Wednesday the 23rd of August dawned fine and clear, but it was a day which brought a sudden deepening from grey to black of the war clouds that were gathering over Europe. By midday everyone at Lubieszow knew that Joachim von Ribbentrop, the ex-traveller in champagne who had become Hitler’s mouthpiece in power politics, had pulled off the greatest
coup
of his career. The Soviet, up to then a staunch supporter of the League of Nations and a great factor in maintaining the balance of power in Europe, had suddenly signed a non-aggression pact with the Nazis.

Oblivious to all but his own pleasure, young Stanislas succeeded in getting free of the duties that his father had imposed upon him and gaily whirled Lucretia off for a ride with him after lunch. General Mack’s party and the Germans went into conference upstairs. Jan endeavoured to settle down to a book, but, finding that he could not do so, wandered out on to the terrace, and, looking slightly distrait, joined the Duke.

‘What the devil does this new move mean?’ he asked, as he plumped himself down in a basket chair.

‘It means, replied the Duke, with a cynical little smile, ‘that Hitler had succeeded in securing his eastern flank. With Russia out of the game, Poland alone can be no serious menace to him; and once he has dealt with her he will be free to launch his armies and air fleets against Western Europe.’

‘But why?’ exclaimed Jan. ‘Why should Stalin have made this pact, which practically amounts to an alliance with the Germans, when for years past they have openly proclaimed that the Bolsheviks are the scum of the earth and that Stalin himself is a blood-stained murderer?’

‘It’s quite simple, my dear fellow,’ de Richleau shrugged. The basic situation has not changed one iota. Hitler still loathes Stalin and all he stands for, and will destroy him utterly if he ever gets a chance. But he wrote for all to read in
Mein Kampf
that Germany would never again be called on to wage a war on two fronts simultaneously. That is one of the few wise conclusions which occasionally emerge from the spate of lies and gibberish that he utters. He is now ensuring against such an eventuality.’

‘Yes, I see that,’ muttered Jan; ‘but what about Stalin? Why should he enter into a pact with his avowed arch-enemy? What the hell has he to gain?’

‘A very great deal. Stalin is just as clever as Hitler, and considerably more far-sighted. Britain, France, Italy, the United States and even Japan are not any serious menace to Russia; they either have ample territories already or are too far away. But Germany, only separated from Russia by Poland, with her obsession for more
lebensraum
and her need for grainlands and oil, constitutes a perpetual threat to the steady reconstruction of the Soviet Union. Stalin is well aware of that and never loses sight of it. He knows that, if Hitler wins his war in the west, after a pause of a year or two to digest his kill, he will direct his victorious armies to march east against Russia; and that, should Hitler lose his war in the west and disappear, some other German warmonger will arise, who in due course will decide that, having waged two wars against the western democracies unsuccessfully, Germany’s best hope of gaining empire is to turn her back on the west and make a bid for the conquest of Asia, overrunning Russia in her march.’

‘But, if you’re right, it seems that Russia will have to face up to Germany anyhow, sooner or later, so why not now? Surely Stalin has a better chance of coming out on top if he throws in
his lot with France and Britain, and all three of them tackle Hitler together?’

De Richleau shook his head. ‘No. That, I believe, is where Stalin is proving himself such a master of statecraft. Remember, Bolshevik Russia owes nothing whatever to France or Britain. They would not come to her aid if she were attacked; so why should she come to theirs? If she did Hitler might quite well unleash the first fury of his assault against her. Hitler could sit tight behind his Siegfried Line in the west and go all out to eliminate Poland and Russia; then, having secured his rear, turn his attention to the others later. If he did that, what help could Russia’s Western Allies give her? For all practical purposes, none. She would have to bear the whole weight of the German war machine with only Poland to aid her. Could she stand up to that? I doubt it.’

‘Poland will fight to the death!’ Jan announced grimly.

‘No one has ever doubted the gallantry of your people’—the Duke bowed slightly—’but, unfortunately, you are lamentably short of modern aircraft, and, believe me, air power will be the deciding factor in this coming war.’

Jan sighed. ‘I fear you are right. In fact, as an airman myself I know it.’

‘All right then. Why should Stalin deliberately challenge the might of the Luftwaffe? To do so would almost certainly be to lay open the Russian cities to devastation. There will be time enough for him to enter on a trial of strength with Hitler—if he must—later on.’

‘But if he allows Poland, Britain and France to be beaten first, he will have to fight alone.’

‘Perhaps, but Germany will not be able to conquer three such great nations without enormous cost to herself. If they succumb—and it is by no means certain that they will—the flower of the German Army and Air Force will be dead before Hitler can proclaim his victory. In the meantime, you can be sure that the wily Georgian, who now occupies the seat of the Czars of all the Russias, will see to it that not a moment is lost in increasing Russia’s output of tanks, aircraft and guns. So when he does have to fight the odds will probably be somewhat in his favour.’

‘And,’ Jan looked up quickly, ‘if you are right, he may not wait until the Western Powers are defeated, but come in to turn the tide against Germany after they have taken the first shock of the fighting.’

‘Exactly,’ agreed the Duke. ‘That is by no means unlikely, and we can but hope that it will prove the case. Only one thing is certain. If he can possibly avoid it, he will not come in until it suits him. And, personally, I for one cannot see any reason why he should.’

‘No, I suppose you are right. Still, this non-aggression pact has given Hitler a free hand so far as Eastern Europe is concerned, and I fear now more than ever for my dear country.’

The Duke did not reply. There was nothing that he could say, nothing that he could do to turn aside the evil fate which now seemed to be advancing so inexorably upon unfortunate Poland.

Half an hour later, when Jan had left him, he took a turn along the terrace. The windows of the big room on the first floor were again open, but no raised, angry voices issued from them this afternoon. Instead, there drifted out a low, steady buzz of earnest conversation. That alone was enough to tell him that the German trump card played that morning was having its due effect. The Poles, de Richleau felt sure, were giving way, and he wondered anxiously how much of their frontier territories they would have to sacrifice, in addition to Danzig, in order to buy what could only be a worthless and uneasy peace for just a few months longer.

The conference did not break up until seven o’clock and was resumed immediately after dinner. Over the meal most of the guests had proved unusually silent and preoccupied. The Baron was never a great conversationalist. The thoughts of Major Bauer and most of General Mack’s party were obviously concentrated on the work in hand. Lucretia, Stanislas and Jan made an effort which petered out by the time the entrée was served, and, apart from occasional remarks thrown out with some effort, de Richleau and von Geisenheim were the only members of the party who continued to keep the ball rolling with smooth urbanity until the Baroness gave the signal to rise, as soon as she decently could after the appearance of the savoury.

For the third night in succession Stanislas was unlucky, as, to his intense annoyance, he found that Lucretia and Jan had slipped out of the house while he was still busy in the lounge ensuring that his father’s guests had ample rations of Cognac or Kümmel with their coffee.

De Richleau retired early, cudgelling his brains as to whether there was any useful action which he might take in connection with the conference. But he saw none, since there could be little
point in letting his friends in Whitehall know that it was proceeding unless he could also supply information on the lines it was taking, and the extent of the demands which the Germans had evidently come to make.

When he came downstairs next morning the conferees were already in session, and an atmosphere of uneasy gloom seemed to pervade the house. His instincts were rarely wrong, and he felt it in his bones that Mack was now selling Poland out; yet he knew that he was powerless to prevent it.

By the second post that Thursday afternoon he received a letter. It was handwritten on a single sheet of paper with a Bayswater address, and, as he read it, his mouth tightened into a hard, grim line.

Putting it in his pocket he went in search of Lucretia, but, although he found her picking plums with Stanislas and Jan in the orchard, he could not get her alone until she went up to change for dinner; and, allowing a few moments to elapse, he followed her up to her room.

‘What is it, Greyeyes?’ she asked a trifle apprehensively, as he failed to give her his usual smiling greeting, ‘I haven’t found out anything yet. With these two young men ready to cut each other’s throats for the pleaure of my society I simply haven’t had a chance to talk to either of the Germans or any of General Mack’s entourage. Have you discovered a stack of dynamite all ready to be detonated in the cellar?’

He acknowledged her jest with no more than a faint smile and silently handed her the letter, which simply said:

I’m sorry to tell you that Uncle has taken a turn for the worse, and I doubt if he’ll last over the weekend. If you want to see him while there is still time you had better return to England immediately.

I hope that you have been enjoying a pleasant holiday, and I’m sorry to drag you back, but I feel sure you would like to be with us when poor Uncle finally expires.

‘What does it mean?’ Lucretia asked, with a puzzled frown.

‘It is from a friend of mine in Whitehall who promised to give me the tip when the time came,’ replied the Duke. ‘By “Uncle” he means the Peace of Europe.’

‘Hell!’ exclaimed Lucretia.

‘Yes, it will be hell indeed,’ de Richleau agreed soberly.

She shook her head impatiently. ‘I wasn’t thinking of the war.’

‘Indeed!’ he remarked with an asperity which he rarely used towards her. ‘At the moment when one learns pretty definitely that no more can be done to stop several million innocent people from being murdered or maimed by high explosives, I find it difficult to think of anything else.’

‘I was thinking of Jan.’

The Duke’s face softened. ‘Yes, Poland will need every man she has who can fly a plane; so Jan will be in it. Tell me—have you fallen in love with him?’

‘I—I don’t really know.’

He laid his hand gently on her arm. ‘Had things been otherwise I could wish that you had. You’re still young yet, darling, and incredibly lovely. I’ve prayed for years that you wouldn’t let that tragic affair in Spain ruin your whole life. Jan’s a good fellow with a lot more in him than appears at first sight. But, as things are, perhaps it’s just as well that you’re still uncertain.’

‘But I
want
to be certain,’ she burst out suddenly. ‘I thought I’d never love again. Cristoval’s face always seemed to come between mine and that of every man who attracted me. Yet, I wanted love. I’ve been so desperately lonely. And Jan is the first man who has ever succeeded in banishing my ghosts when I’m with him. The awful thing is that in a few more days I would have known one way or the other.’

‘Why should you think that?’

‘Because tonight I agreed to go off on a trip with him. He was going to fly me down to Wieliezka. It’s near Cracow, and there are wonderful salt mines there. Huge caves of glittering crystal that have been worked on ever since the twelfth century.’

De Richleau nodded. ‘Yes, I was taken there several times as a boy. Twenty or thirty generations of miners have hewn ballrooms, chapels, altars and sanctuaries out of the rock salt, and
the caves are like a fairy palace hidden under a mountain. It is one of the show places of Poland. But why should a visit to Wieliezka provide you with the answer as to whether you love Jan or not?’

‘We were going to stay the weekend in Cracow, at the palace of one of his friends. I should have had him for three days almost entirely to myself; and I’m sure I would have known after that.’

‘All right,’ said the Duke, with sudden decision. ‘You had better go then.’

Her face lit up, then quickly fell again. ‘But how about getting back to England? If war does break out over the weekend we might get caught here.’

De Richleau had been doing some very swift thinking. He had no desire at all to find himself stranded at the other end of Europe once Hitler had unleashed his legions; but Lucretia’s happiness was of immense importance to him. Now that the icy hand which for so long had gripped her heart had at last begun to thaw he knew that he could not bring himself to deprive her of this chance to break the spell for good, even if she must be separated afterwards from the man who had wrought the miracle, by this accursed war which now menaced the happiness of countless thousands.

‘Don’t worry,’ he smiled. ‘But I would like to leave first thing on Monday morning, so you must be back here on Sunday night. That will still give you your three days with Jan. Then on Monday he can fly us into Warsaw and we’ll get the plane on to Budapest. If war has already been declared and the air service is cancelled, there will still be plenty of trains, and we’ll get home somehow, either via the Balkans or Scandinavia.’

Lucretia suddenly put her arms round his neck and kissed him on both cheeks. ‘Oh, darling,’ she sighed, ‘this means so much to me, and no one but you would understand.’

‘Bless you,’ he murmured. ‘Try to put the thought of war out of your lovely head for the next three days. Have a good time, and may the gods bring you back happy.’