by Stuart Clark
Praise for Stuart Clark’s trilogy:
The Sky’s Dark Labyrinth
A vivid, thrilling portrayal of the lives and work of Kepler and Galileo … Books like this transform the way we access and understand our view of history’
Lovereading UK
‘Sit under the stars and wonder, not just at their eternal beauty and mystery, but at the courage of the men who risked their lives so we could understand them’
Daily Mail
‘Usually when reading a novel based on historical figures and true events, I find myself at some point asking what it’s based on. It’s a testament to Clark’s ability to tap into the seventeenth-century mindset that this time the question never arose’
Historical Novel Society
‘I could all but smell the streets and markets of seventeenth-century Prague in this novel’
Nature
The Sensorium of God
‘Stuart Clark has once again invoked the great debates using enough science to help the reader’s understanding without over-blinding laymen like me. The concluding volume will be about Einstein. My breath is bated’
Kathy Stevenson, Daily Mail
‘Clark does a sterling job of covering the tricky period when scientists were the superstars of society’
New Scientist
‘The best historical fiction goes beyond dates and events, giving historical figures emotions, achievements and failings. This is very much the case here, where petty squabbles sit beside philosophical debate in a rounded picture of great men and ideas’
We Love This Book
*****
BBC Sky at Night magazine
The Day Without
Yesterday
Stuart Clark
THE SKY’S DARK LABYRINTH TRILOGY
Book III
First published in Great Britain in 2013
by Polygon, an imprint of Birlinn Ltd
Birlinn Ltd
West Newington House
10 Newington Road
Edinburgh
EH9 1QS
www.polygonbooks.co.uk
Copyright © Stuart Clark, 2013
The moral right of Stuart Clark to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by him in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act, 1988.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored or transmitted in any form, or by any means electronic, mechanical or photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the express written permission of the publisher.
ISBN 978 1 84697 247 8
eBook ISBN 978 0 85790 533 8
British Library Cataloguing-in-Publication Data
A catalogue record for this book is available on request from the British Library.
Typset by IDSUK (DataConnection)
Ltd Printed and bound by
Content approved by NMSI Enterprises/Science Museum. Licence no. 0283.
Contents
PART I - Space
1 Berlin, Germany 1914
2 Feodosiya, Russian Empire
3 Berlin
4 Odessa, Russian Empire
5 Diksmuide, Belgium
6 Berlin
7 Diksmuide
8 Berlin
9 Ypres, Belgium
10 Berlin
PART II - Time
11 Berlin 1916
12 Zurich, Switzerland
13 Berlin
14 Ypres
15 Berlin 1917
16 Cambridge, England 1918
17 Berlin 1919
18 Louvain, Belgium
19 Berlin 1920
20 Cambridge
21 New York City 1921
PART III - Curvature
22 Harvard, Cambridge, Massachusetts
23 Berlin
24 Florence, Italy
25 Berlin
26 Mount Wilson, California
27 Brussels, Belgium 1927
28 Zurich 1930
29 Louvain
30 Berlin
31 Harvard 1931
32 Pasadena, California
Epilogue
Acknowledgements
PART I
Space
1
Berlin, Germany
1914
Had the young men not been walking in rows, the physicist would have considered them a mob. Parading through the city in three-piece suits, fingers stained from their university inkwells, the youths held their straw boaters aloft and sang a rowdy version of ‘Deutschland Über Alles’.
The march had brought the city to a standstill. Open-topped cars stood idling by the roadside, filling the air with fumes while the occupants craned to see. Bus carriages were similarly stalled, their horses nodding and snorting as passengers hung from the windows to applaud, forcing the students to raise their voices. Here and there, when a cheer was not enough, a clenched fist punched the sky.
The physicist had stumbled into the mayhem while lost in thought, hurrying through the streets. Snorting in disgust, he lowered his gaze and ploughed on, moving upstream. It was impossible not to bump shoulders; there must have been a hundred or more in the crowd, bold and boisterous. Emerging at the rear of the pack, he was surrounded by a straggle of older men and women egging on the lads.
He snorted again, louder this time. At least the boys had the excuse of youth.
‘Albert! You’re going the wrong way.’
The voice took Einstein by surprise. The lanky figure of Max Planck was standing on the nearby pavement, watching him through wire-rimmed spectacles. He grinned beneath a heavy, greying moustache. ‘Beautiful day, isn’t it?’
Einstein pursed his lips. ‘I do not call that beautiful.’ He jerked a thumb in the direction of the march.
Planck lifted his hat to run a handkerchief over the dome of his head. ‘Heading back to the university?’
‘No, I can’t stop. I’m late already.’
‘Nothing wrong, I hope?’ Planck replaced his hat. Einstein forced a name from his lips. ‘Mileva.’ Planck’s face fell. ‘I wish you the best.’
Einstein nodded in acknowledgement and hastened away. He reached his destination soon after: a house in the expensive part of town, stone-built and three storeys high, it exuded power and achievement. The shiny black door opened before he reached the top step, robbing him of the chance to compose himself, and the entrance filled with Fritz Haber.
Like Planck, Haber was bald and bespectacled; it seemed to be the fashion for anyone over fifty at the Institute. Unlike Planck, Haber would have suited a uniform. He was strong, upright, eyes burning with self-assurance. There was a mild scowl on his round face.
‘Sorry I’m late, Fritz. The streets are packed.’
‘Another rally?’ asked Haber, lifting his glasses to glance eagerly down the street.
Einstein nodded. ‘They make it feel like a carnival.’
‘Well, you can’t keep a people down forever.’
Einstein swallowed a reply; now was not the time to debate imperialism. He looked over Haber’s shoulder into the empty hallway. ‘Is she here?’
‘Mileva? Yes. Shall we begin?’
Einstein squared his shoulders, nodded tightly and followed Haber into the house. He was shown into the front room with its upholstered armchairs and cushions, wall hangings and paintings. A dresser displayed a collection of ornamental plates, each decorated with Teutonic hunting scenes, and a selection of freshly cut summer flowers filled the fireplace.
Einstein suppressed a twinge of envy, not for the furnishings but for the success they represented. Haber’s nitrogen research had led to the manufacture of artificial fertiliser. He was a hero; his reputation and fortune were secure. He could p
lease himself with his research these days. Einstein chased away the image of his own papers, unfinished on his desk at home, scored through with deletions and rewrites.
His host sank comfortably into one of the plush chairs and indicated that Einstein should do the same, but he could only bring himself to perch. He was dressed in his very best: an unseasonal dark suit, necktie and freshly starched winged collar. Such a get-up always made him feel awkward.
‘Remember, Albert, I’m not your colleague today. I’m your friend.’ Haber’s mellow voice purred.
‘I know that, Fritz.’
The chinking of china drew Einstein’s attention. Haber’s petite wife was carrying in a tray of tea.
‘Clara. How are you?’ said Einstein.
‘I’m well. Thank you.’ She poured, not meeting his gaze. Then she left the room in silence.
He took a sip of his drink. As he replaced the cup, it rattled against the saucer. ‘Fritz, the situation has to end. You’ve been so generous to take in Mileva and the boys – I can’t thank you enough – but they must leave.’
‘Hush, Albert,’ soothed Haber. ‘The solution is agreed.’ Einstein nodded grimly. ‘Then let us see that it is carried out quickly. They must return to Switzerland without further delay. Mileva knows this. We have grown too far apart. I am consumed with my work. This theorem inside me, it’s alive – I can feel it, restless, kicking. It must be born or it will destroy me. Mileva knows that she is in its way as long as she remains.’
‘Albert, listen to me. She does not need to leave. She has agreed to your terms.’
Einstein stared at Haber. ‘She has agreed to leave my study without protest if I so request?’
Haber nodded.
‘She will stop talking to me at once upon my say-so?’
Haber nodded again, his expression souring. ‘And the rest, exactly as you have written.’ He unfolded the sheet with Einstein’s handwritten list and brought it into focus. ‘She must clean and keep my study neat but not interfere with my papers. She must travel separately from me. She must launder my clothes and provide me with three meals a day. She must expect no intimacy, nor reproach me in any way. At my command she …’
‘Enough, please.’ Einstein turned his head one way then another in an attempt to conceal his embarrassment. Listening to the demands like this, he could hardly believe that he had written so callous a document. In the isolation of his study, his pen had provided the exorcism that his mind had needed, but to hear it back like this … He had demanded that his wife obey him like a dog. His skin prickled.
The boys had been tired and fractious the night he had written the list; the pounding of their feet around the apartment had been deafening. He had pulled open his study door and caught a glimpse of his wife in the corridor playing some sort of chasing game with them. ‘Can you not keep them calm?’
Then Mileva had badgered him to join the meal or it would spoil.
‘What could possibly spoil about your cooking?’ he spat over his shoulder.
Mileva had set her hands on her hips and the argument had started. In the morning, Haber had offered to lodge her until they could sort out their troubles.
Einstein’s gaze must have dropped during the reverie, because the next things he became aware of were his shoes, scuffed where he had forgotten to polish them and dusty from the walk across town. He shuffled his feet in a futile attempt to hide the shoes and looked up, straight into Mileva’s eyes; she was watching him from the door.
Her hair had been freshly washed, and she wore a new cream dress, with puffed shoulders and a bow at the neck. It harked back to a style she used to wear. Perhaps it wasn’t new; perhaps it was an old favourite from a time when they had been happy. Clara stood behind her like a shadow.
The two men stood up.
‘You win, Albert,’ said Mileva in a steady voice. ‘I agree to your terms.’
‘You don’t understand. It would be a business arrangement, not a marriage. You would be little more than a servant.’
‘Your letter makes it clear that the personal aspects of our relationship would be reduced to a tiny remnant.’
‘How can you settle for that, Mileva?’
‘Because …’ She faltered, her eyes beginning to moisten.
‘We must separate. We hurt each other too much.’
She looked as if he had just thrust a knife through her ribs. ‘You refuse me even though I agree to everything you demand?’
He nodded mutely, his stomach a vortex. There could be no pretence any more.
Clara stepped closer. She placed her arm around Mileva’s shoulders, which were beginning to shake, and led her away.
Einstein could feel Haber’s gaze on his back.
‘I’m sorry, Fritz, but it’s for the best.’ The room was stale and airless. ‘I’ll see myself out.’
When the train station’s tall façade hove into view the next day, Einstein found it difficult to swallow, as though someone’s hands were around his throat. His pace slowed the nearer he drew to the lofty windows and giant curved roof until the bell of an oncoming electric tram brought him back to life. He skipped off the tracks into the shade of a tree, where he loosened his tie and let his heart rate settle as much as it was going to that day.
People came and went from the terminus in droves. From the cigar-shaped Zeppelin passing high above they must have looked like ants streaming to and fro. He caught sight of a couple, arm in arm, and a mixture of hatred and longing built inside him. It was all he could do not to turn his back on the station and stride off down the road. He shook the thought from his mind and forced himself to march inside.
Mileva and the boys were waiting on the busy platform. Haber stood with them but stepped aside as Einstein approached.
Hans Albert was as tall as his mother’s shoulder now. The tenyear-old’s thick black hair was combed into a fringe that hid his forehead and accentuated his puzzled eyes. On Mileva’s other side, less than half her height and clinging to her hand, was Eduard, little Tete. He still seemed a baby to Einstein, even though he had to be four now. He seldom spoke, mostly contenting himself with sucking his fingers and grinning.
‘Your tie’s undone, Albert,’ said Mileva.
‘Sorry.’ He mumbled and repaired the knot. ‘Where are your things?’
‘You don’t have to worry, we’re going …’
‘That’s not what I meant.’
‘The guard’s loaded the trunk already.’
Mileva watched him from dark-circled eyes. Her hair was wiry, barely under control, not at all like it had been in Haber’s apartment.
‘When did you last sleep?’
She met his gaze with a challenging look. ‘I don’t think I’ve slept properly since you first visited Berlin.’
Einstein caught the weight of her answer as though it were a punch. She was referring to his trip two years ago to visit his mother, who had moved to Berlin from Italy after being widowed. At the time, Mileva had been unaware who else he would meet in the city. ‘I knew you wouldn’t like it here. I’m sorry,’ he said hurriedly.
She locked eyes with him. ‘Why are you here, Albert? In Berlin, I mean. Why did we leave Zurich for this? It can’t be for the German people. You hate them and their pride, otherwise you’d have kept your German citizenship. Remember? You’re Swiss now.’
Einstein tightened his jaw.
‘Can’t you see there’s a war coming?’ she continued, sarcasm gilding her delivery. ‘You’re going to be stuck here, with people you’ll never agree with.’
‘I still hope that common sense will prevail.’
‘Don’t be a fool. The parades, the marches; these people want war. They think they can just grab land from the French and no one will resist them. Switzerland’s neutral. You were happy there.’
‘They have offered me my own institute here, with staff.’
‘Where is it, Albert? Not a word of it since we arrived, and who is going to build a new physics institute now?
What good is science in wartime? Oh, you used to be so happy in Zurich. Marcel is still there.’
‘Marcel?’
‘Yes, Marcel.’
‘Marcel isn’t … isn’t in the same league as the men here. Planck, Haber, even Nernst …’
‘Same league? Listen to you. Marcel helped you recently because you couldn’t do some piece of mathematics. What league are you in? Where’s the Nobel prize you keep promising me? It’s been nearly ten years since your paper on relative motion – it was going to make you world-famous, remember? We used to talk, discuss your work. You used to share. Now look at you. Your whole reputation is based on previous achievements.’
‘But I’m so close now … The extension to relative motion is …’ Again the image of his scattered papers assaulted him, sparking anger. ‘Oh, why couldn’t you have been more like Clara? That’s the tragedy here. She knows how a wife should support her husband. He’s a lucky man.’
Mileva glanced over at Haber, who was doing a very bad job of pretending not to eavesdrop. She fixed her granite expression on Einstein again. ‘You just talk without thinking, don’t you, Albert? Clara understands what being a wife is really all about? You men don’t have to give up anything. Clara knows exactly how I feel.’
The train engine’s whistle bit into the air. Einstein took the opportunity to break away, squatting in front of Eduard. Both sons had inherited his full lips and cleft chin. Hans Albert had his father’s eyes, but Eduard’s were more widely spaced and, at the moment, blank.
‘Now, you be a good boy for your mother.’
Eduard nodded solemnly, sucking a finger of his free hand. Einstein briefly touched the little boy’s shoulders, then straightened and turned to his elder son. After an awkward pause, Einstein stuck out his hand. Hans Albert stared at it before placing his own in it. ‘Write to me often, son. Tell me everything you do.’
There was no strength in his son’s grip and Einstein let it drop. He turned back to Mileva, who was watching him contemptuously. ‘I don’t intend to ask you for a divorce.’ Some small hope kindled in her eyes. ‘All I require is that you stay in Switzerland with the boys.’