by Hilary Green
As they headed for the centre of the city the streets grew more crowded. People were heading for the Appel Quay, the road along which the archduke’s motorcade would pass. Ralph stopped one man and asked what time it was expected.
‘Soon after ten o’clock, if he keeps to the schedule,’ was the reply.
Ralph looked at his watch. ‘It’s nearly nine. There’s still time. Either the whole procession must be abandoned, or at least he must go by a different route.’
They had to ask the way to the town hall, where the reception was due to take place, and when they reached it they found all access to the building barred by the police.
‘Listen to me!’ Ralph said to the man barring their way. ‘I am the British military attaché in Belgrade. I have urgent information regarding the archduke’s visit. I must speak to the mayor at once.’
The policeman looked him up and down and Tom was suddenly aware of the picture they must present, dirty and unshaven, their deliberately shabby clothes further rumpled and torn by their efforts in the cellar.
‘Do you have any identification, sir?’ he asked.
Ralph put his hand to his pocket and swore. He had intentionally left behind anything that might identify him as a British soldier. ‘No, I don’t, because I have been kidnapped and locked up in a cellar. All my papers were stolen. There is going to be an attempt on the archduke’s life. I must speak to someone in authority.’
The policeman hesitated, then called to a colleague and the two conferred in undertones. From the glances cast in their direction Tom inferred that they were being cast as madmen or troublemakers, but after a moment the second man went off into the building and the first returned to them.
‘I’ve sent a message to the captain. You’ll have to wait here until he’s free to talk to you.’
‘But don’t you understand?’ Ralph expostulated. ‘It’s a matter of the utmost urgency.’
‘So you say,’ the policeman said stolidly. ‘But I’ve done everything I can do. It’s against orders for me to let anyone into the building.’
Minutes passed and Ralph paced backwards and forwards, clenching and unclenching his fists. Tom kept watch on the crowd behind them, fearing at any moment to see Illic or one of his cronies. If their escape had been discovered he had no doubt that the conspirators would be looking for them, and this time they would not hesitate to shoot.
After a long wait a man in the uniform of a police captain came down the steps and Ralph repeated his story.
‘Kidnapped, you say?’ the captain queried. ‘Have you reported this?’
‘No! There isn’t time. The men who kidnapped us are planning to assassinate the archduke. You must get a message to him. He must stay away from Sarajevo.’
The captain frowned at him for a moment and then said, ‘You had better come with me.’
‘At last!’ Ralph exclaimed.
His relief was short-lived. They were conducted to a small office and told to wait while the captain went in search of his superior officer. More time passed. Eventually two men arrived: one a colonel in the police and the other, in civilian clothes, who introduced himself as the mayor’s secretary. Ralph embarked on his story again.
‘One moment,’ the colonel interrupted, looking at Tom. ‘Who is this?’
Tom gave his name and explained that he was a friend of Ralph’s from England, simply here on a visit. The colonel appeared to regard this with some suspicion and Tom could understand why. Ralph outlined the reasoning that had brought him to Sarajevo and described the events of the previous evening, adding the names and descriptions of the five conspirators. There followed a lengthy and ponderous inquisition and it became obvious that the colonel viewed everything they said with extreme scepticism. Tom saw that Ralph was struggling to remain calm but as the minutes ticked by he grew more and more frustrated. Finally, he jumped to his feet and thumped the desk where the colonel was sitting.
‘Do you not understand? There are men out there determined to murder the heir to the Austrian Empire, on the streets of your city. It could start a war. Do you want that on your conscience?’
The colonel looked at his watch. ‘The archduke will already be on his way. It is too late to stop him now. I assure you, all precautions have been taken for his safety but I will go and give orders for everyone to be on the alert.’ He rose. ‘I will send someone to take down your statement regarding the kidnapping. Wait here, please.’
‘Wait!’ Ralph stormed. ‘Wait! Is that all you can say?’
But the colonel and the secretary had already left the room.
Ralph turned to Tom. ‘Come on. There’s no point in hanging about here.’
‘Will they let us leave?’ Tom asked.
‘We’ll soon find out,’ Ralph replied.
The corridor outside was empty, although they could hear voices and footsteps from above, moving towards the front of the building.
‘This way,’ Ralph said, heading in the opposite direction.
A few minutes later they emerged, unchallenged, from a service entrance at the rear. As they turned towards the main street Tom felt the ground under his feet shudder and heard the noise of an explosion from somewhere not far distant. Ralph stopped dead.
‘What was that?’
‘A bomb,’ Tom replied. He had heard enough on the battlefields of Kosovo to be in no doubt. ‘I’m afraid we’re too late.’
‘The bastards!’ Ralph ground out. ‘That stupid, bloody colonel! They could have avoided this if only they had listened.’
‘You did your best,’ Tom said. ‘There’s nothing more we can do now.’
In the main street there was chaos. Some of the crowd, impelled by curiosity, were trying to hurry in the direction of the explosion; others, terrified, were attempting to run the opposite way. On the steps of the town hall, where the official reception party were waiting, there was much agitated waving of arms and running to and fro. Then, into this confusion, came the sound of engines and three motor cars appeared, driven at speed. In the first there were uniformed policemen, while the second contained high-ranking officers, to judge by the amount of medals and gold braid. The third car was a Graf and Stift cabriolet, its top folded back to reveal the moustachioed figure of the Archduke Franz Ferdinand with his wife at his side.
‘They missed!’ Ralph exclaimed. ‘The incompetent idiots missed! Thank God!’
‘Who are the other two with them?’ Tom asked.
‘The fat one is Potiorek, the Governor of Bosnia. I assume the other is an aide-de-camp.’
The three cars screeched to a halt at the foot of the steps and the archduke got out to be met by the mayor. Tom was too far away to hear what was said, but it was obvious from the archduke’s demeanour that he was extremely angry – with reason, Tom reflected. The royal party and their entourage were conducted quickly into the town hall and the crowd on the pavement began to disperse.
‘What now?’ Tom asked.
‘The archduke is entertained to lunch, there are the usual speeches and then he’s due to open the state museum, but if they’ve got any sense they’ll get him out of the city by the shortest route,’ Ralph responded.
‘I meant, what next for us?’ Tom said. ‘But do you mean there could be another attempt?’
‘There are at least five men involved in the conspiracy, to our knowledge,’ Ralph pointed out. ‘I presume the entire Sarajevo police force is looking for them now, but if I was in charge I certainly wouldn’t take any chances.’
‘Well, I don’t see that there is anything more we can do,’ Tom said. ‘Let’s get back to Belgrade.’
‘The next train doesn’t leave until this evening,’ Ralph pointed out. ‘There’s no point in sitting in the station for hours. Let’s go and see what happened.’
They made their way through the crowd until they came to the road running beside the Miljacka River. Here there was a dense knot of people, but between their shoulders Tom saw a large crater in the road and beyond it another official car,
its doors open, windscreen smashed and bonnet a twisted mass of blackened metal. On the far side of the road, by the river bank, three policemen held a bedraggled figure who was writhing in their grasp as if in agony.
‘It’s Cabrinovic!’ Ralph murmured in Tom’s ear.
‘What happened?’ Tom asked a man standing near him. ‘Did you see?’
‘That fellow threw a bomb at the archduke’s car,’ was the reply. ‘It bounced off the hood and landed in the road behind.’
‘What has happened to him?’ Tom inquired, indicating the assassin. ‘Why is he all wet?’
His informant gave a harsh guffaw. ‘The fool swallowed something and jumped into the river. He obviously isn’t a local or he’d have known it’s only a few inches deep at that point. Some men dragged him out and gave him a good kicking before the police got to him.’
As they spoke a police motorcyclist forced his way through the crowd and circled the hole in the road to reach the damaged car. He dismounted and leaned into it, obviously searching for something, and finally straightened up with a sheaf of papers in his hand. As he passed Tom, heading back towards the town hall, Tom saw that they were wet with blood.
‘Clearly someone didn’t escape unharmed,’ he said. ‘What do you think those papers were? Documents of state?’
‘More likely the archduke’s notes for his speech,’ Ralph replied with a humourless laugh.
They watched Cabrinovic being taken away and then Ralph yawned suddenly. ‘Do you know, I am ravenous! We haven’t eaten since last night. Let’s find some food.’
‘I don’t think we are in a fit state to go into a restaurant,’ Tom said, indicating their filthy clothes.
‘True,’ Ralph agreed. ‘Let’s see if we can find somewhere we can buy a sandwich.’
They walked a little further along the river, until they came to the Latin Bridge. Ralph pointed across the road. ‘Look, there’s a place – Schiller’s delicatessen. We should be able to get something there.’
They bought sandwiches and sat at a small table in a corner to eat them. Tom felt himself grow drowsy after his broken night, but he could not relax. The image of Cabrinovic twisting and vomiting in his captors’ grip alternated in his mind with the thought that Illic and the rest were still at large and might be looking for them. It must be assumed that their escape had been discovered by now. ‘What do you think Cabrinovic swallowed?’ he asked Ralph.
His friend shrugged. ‘I’m not a medical man. I should have thought cyanide was the obvious thing, but that is supposed to work much faster – unless there was something wrong with it. I wouldn’t put it past Tankovic to have supplied them with pills that had been kept so long they had lost their efficacy.’
‘He looked so young,’ Tom said. ‘Just a boy, really.’
‘They all are,’ Ralph agreed, ‘except for Illic. No wonder the whole plan has gone off at half cock, when you give bombs and guns to a lot of teenagers with hardly any training.’
‘Look, can we get away from here and find somewhere quiet?’ Tom said. ‘My head is bursting.’
Ralph paid the bill and they were just getting up to leave when he grabbed Tom’s arm. ‘Keep your head down! Princip has just come in.’
‘Where is he?’
‘Over at the counter, buying a sandwich.’
‘Is anyone else with him?’
‘No, he seems to be alone. This is our chance, Tom. We’ll wait till he leaves the shop and then grab him. His testimony will be enough to put Tankovic and all the rest of the Black Hand in the dock.’
Tom had his back to the rest of the shop and Ralph picked up a newspaper and held it in front of his face, glancing over the top of it every few seconds. After a moment he said, ‘He’s going. Come on.’
They rose and followed the slight figure out of the shop. He paused at the kerb, biting into his sandwich, and at that moment the official cars reappeared, heading out of the city. The two leading vehicles crossed the bridge, the Graf and Stift following, with the archduke and his wife and the governor; the aide-de-camp now standing protectively on the left-hand running board.
‘My God, that was close!’ Ralph said, adding abruptly: ‘Now what? What the devil . . . ?’
The Graf and Stift was reversing, bringing it back to a point immediately opposite the delicatessen. Paralysed, as in a nightmare, Tom saw Princip drop his sandwich and reach into his pocket. Drawing his pistol he stepped forward, close to the right-hand side of the car and fired once. The archduke jerked backwards, blood spurting from his neck. Ralph was already plunging towards the assassin and as Princip raised the weapon again, aiming at the governor, he attempted to knock the gun out of his hand. The weapon went off and Sophie, the duchess, collapsed against her husband. Several passers-by leapt on Princip and wrestled him to the ground, but not before he had crammed something into his mouth. Meanwhile, the car accelerated away, heading back into the city.
Ralph sunk to his knees with his head in his hands. Tom grabbed him by the arm and pulled him up.
‘What have I done?’ he cried. ‘I meant to knock his arm up. Are they both dead?’
‘I don’t know,’ Tom said. ‘Perhaps not. They were both still upright. Maybe the wounds were not fatal.’
Princip was being dragged away, writhing and vomiting in the same manner as Cabrinovic. Tom looked at Ralph. He was deadly pale and shaking. ‘Come on. We’re going to the station. If we can’t get on a train to Belgrade we’ll catch the first one that comes along. The sooner we get out of this place the better.’
Four
On June 29 the following headline appeared on page eight of the London Times:
AUSTRIAN HEIR AND HIS WIFE MURDERED
SHOT IN BOSNIAN TOWN
Five hours later a telegram arrived at the hotel in Belgrade to which Tom and Ralph had returned that morning. Addressed to Ralph it read: Leonora seriously ill. Imperative you return immediately. Victoria
When the two men reached Sussex Gardens, weary and travel-stained after three days and nights with little rest, they found Leo fully dressed, sitting at her writing desk in the morning room. Tom hurried towards her.
‘Leo! What are you doing? Why aren’t you in bed?’
Leo stood up and took his hand. ‘I’m sorry, Tom. I’m afraid I deceived you. But I had good reason.’
‘Deceived!’ her brother broke in. ‘Do you mean you’re not ill? What was that telegram all about? Was it some kind of a joke? I bet that Langford woman was behind it.’
‘Victoria sent the telegram,’ Leo agreed. ‘But it was my idea.’
‘I don’t understand,’ Tom said. ‘Why?’
‘Have you any idea what you have put us through?’ Ralph demanded. ‘We have had a horrendous journey. Everyone is trying to get out of Serbia. There were no berths left on the Orient Express from Belgrade. We had to travel third class on a local train as far as Vienna, sitting up all night. Then when we picked up the Express there, it was packed. The whole of Europe seems to be on the move.’
‘To say nothing of our anxiety about you.’ Tom put it quietly.
‘Well, that too, of course,’ Ralph added.
‘I know,’ Leo said, squeezing Tom’s hand. ‘And I really am sorry. But as soon as I saw the headline in the paper I knew it was vital to get you out of Serbia as quickly as possible. It was the only way I could think of to make sure you got leave straight away, Ralph.’
‘But what made you think we needed to get out?’ her brother asked.
‘It seems to me that Austria and Serbia could be at war at any moment and then it would be almost impossible for you to travel. And Tom told me you were mixed up with this Black Hand gang. It was them, wasn’t it, behind the assassination? So if the Austrians demand that they are handed over to justice . . . I mean, I know you couldn’t have been really involved, but I just thought . . .’
Ralph and Tom looked at each other and suddenly they both laughed. Ralph put his arm round Leo’s shoulders. ‘Oh, little Sis, you don’t
know the half of it! Shall I tell her, Tom, or will you?’
Over the next weeks the whole country was gripped by frenzied speculation about the possibility of war. Ralph summarized the situation succinctly.
‘If Austria declares war on Serbia the Serbs will invoke the mutual defence treaty they have with Russia. France has treaty obligations to Russia, and we have agreements with the French that commit us. And the Germans are itching for a fight so that will be all the excuse they need to come in on the Austrian side.’
‘And the whole of Europe is plunged into chaos,’ Leo said.
‘It might not be a bad thing, in the long run,’ Ralph declared. ‘It’s time the Germans were put in their place.’
That seemed to be the general view in the country and Leo felt increasingly that only she and Victoria and a few others who had seen war at first-hand understood the implications. One of the voices raised against the prevailing mood belonged to someone they knew well. Mabel Stobart, the founder of the Women’s Sick and Wounded Convoy, with whom they had worked in Bulgaria, had returned from Canada and involved herself in local politics, becoming a councillor for Hampstead Garden Suburb. Leo and Victoria had kept in touch and been invited to her home on several occasions, where they met several other influential women who were all opposed to war, but their voices were drowned by the increasingly bellicose chorus.
On 23 July the Austrians sent an ultimatum to Serbia, demanding among other things that a full investigation into those responsible for the assassination should be carried out by Austrian police officers on Serbian territory. The newspapers reported that Serbia was mobilizing troops but on the 27 July The Times carried an article detailing the Serb reply, which accepted all the Austrian demands except one. The following day Austria declared war on Serbia.
Leo followed these developments with anguish, knowing that Sasha was bound to be at the forefront of the fighting. When the papers reported on 29 July that the first shells had fallen on Belgrade she wept helplessly, not only for him but for all the friends she had made there. She remembered them as cultivated and courteous people, with great warmth and zest for life, but also an intense pride in their nation and its history and she knew that they would fight to the last man.