Inferno

Chapter 48

Renzi gave an elegant and flowing bow before Crown Prince Regent Frederik, seeing before him one of quite another spirit to his father. Not yet in his forties, with fair hair, startling blue eyes and pointed chin, his sharp face was uncompromising in its determination.

He wore a military red coat with blue facings, the heavy epaulettes grey and silver. No court shoes, simply plain hessian boots over white pantaloons. A heavy sabre in its scabbard leaned against the desk.

‘Your Royal Highness is most kind to see me at such notice.’

‘I cannot refuse to entertain my uncle’s emissary, my lord.’ The tone was wary, the English accented.

‘Sire, His Britannic Majesty desires me most earnestly to discover common ground that will allow us to proceed to an understanding.’

The reply was cautious but encouraging. Renzi, however, sensed tension, defensiveness. He felt some sympathy for the man: he had all power as an autocrat, but his decisions would commit his country to war or peace, survival or ruin, with none to share his burden.

By degrees the guarded conversation became less stilted, passing over subjects of family, cultural differences, the attractions of Copenhagen. A tray of glasses was brought and toasts were offered in a fine German Rheingau for health and prosperity to the Houses of Hanover and Oldenburg. But underlying all, an indefinable barrier, a line of reserve, could not be crossed.

After more than an hour of pleasantries and elliptical inferences, Renzi had the feeling he was achieving a rapport that could well lead to more substantial discussions at another audience. Tense and weary, he conceded the day and, pleading fatigue from his journey, retired to his guest suite.

It was frustrating in the extreme: he had the ear of the one individual who could stop the cataclysm with a word – if only he could conceive of a face-saving means to proffer.

After more hopeless casting about he surrendered to sleep with the resolve to go on the offensive, along the lines of offering firm advice.

In the morning he was encouraged when Frederik came down to breakfast and sat next to him, enquiring after his night’s sleep. This could only be that, after mature consideration, he felt it of value to pursue the discussion.

Once again in his state-room, Frederik mused archly, ‘It would intrigue me to know what Uncle George would do in my place – just out of interest, you understand.’

It was what Renzi wanted.

The careful phrasing was for the benefit of Bernstorff, who sat at a desk on the pretence of preparing the day’s papers.

Renzi warmly sympathised on the dilemma the Crown of Denmark faced. He then lightly touched on the courses open, delicately pitching the consequences as they would be perceived by the King of England.

He gave a casual glance in Bernstorff’s direction: the foreign minister was sitting stock still, his pen motionless in his hand.

Was it working? With an increasing tide of despair, Renzi had to accept that he did not have a magic formula to cut through the impasse. Worse, he had a premonition that both were waiting, hoping he had, and within the hour they would know he hadn’t – and it would all be over.

‘Therefore, Highness, this question of a binding covenant of security-’

There was murmuring at Bernstorff’s desk: a functionary had arrived and was whispering urgently to him.

Bernstorff stood up. ‘Sire, if you’ll excuse me …’

He left, and Renzi cudgelled his mind for something to take advantage of his absence, but Frederik was obviously distracted.

It wasn’t long before Bernstorff returned and, with a glance at Renzi, told the Crown Prince something in a low voice that made him shoot to his feet and apparently demand details. It was all in Danish and their frequent looks in his direction made him tense with foreboding.

Frederik broke off and glared at Renzi. ‘My lord, a powerful British fleet has been sighted approaching the Sound. What do you know of this?’

He froze. It had happened, and at the worst possible moment. He was in an impossible situation. If he denied all knowledge of it he would be marginalised and his ‘advice’ would fail. If he admitted it, his mission would be seen as a smoke-screen to delay things until the assault fleet was in position.

‘Sir, I would have an answer! This is a great fleet. It must have a purpose.’

He gulped – but then was saved.

Speaking in English for Renzi’s sake, Bernstorff said evenly, ‘Sire, I hardly think the noble lord can be expected to answer that. Yet an explanation does suggest itself. I’ve reliable knowledge that, since the Treaty of Tilsit, the British Admiralty has intended to establish in the Baltic a fleet of force with which to balance a hostile Russian presence. Surely this is its nature.’

‘It has transports – military, troops, guns. What of them?’

‘It seems to me undoubtedly for the reinforcement of the Swedes on the north Baltic seaboard, they having lately been cast out of Stralsund and the whole south shore.’

Frederik snorted. ‘Then you’d say they will pass, there is no intimidation implied?’

‘I can hardly think that it is intended to assault without warning a guiltless neutral, sire. The British would never do it. My explanation is much the more likely one, I believe.’

‘Very well. We shall continue – but keep me informed of its progress past us, Bernstorff.’

‘Sire.’

In a stroke, matters had gone from bad to catastrophic.

The primary reason for mounting the expedition was to apply decisive pressure to the Danes to concede. Instead its presence had been misconstrued, and therefore its value in negotiation was as nothing. Canning’s show of force had failed – and would bring about the very thing it was intended to avoid: an armed landing and bloodshed.

It mustn’t happen.

Renzi’s mind raced. He was losing in his king-to-king accord and now he was the only agency that could halt the inevitable. If he did nothing … ‘Your Royal Highness. To say I know nothing of this armada would be untrue.’

He avoided the man’s eye but sensed his sudden rigid attention.

‘While about to leave England I heard rumours of a fleet to be sent into the Sound at the government’s direction.’

‘You knew!’

‘But as a king’s envoy there could be no question that I be given details, or even that it would sail. Sire, I must tell you that its very presence here reveals to me something of the anxiety of the administration to conclude a form of mutual security touching the Baltic. That they dispatched it is an earnest to their intentions, I’m sorry to say.’

‘You’re part of this!’

‘Sire, I do swear to you I am not. This is an initiative by the political heads of government.’ That much was perfectly true.

‘My mission is directly from His Majesty to you, sir, in trust that an understanding beyond that of politics might be achieved.’

Frederik was pacing about the room like a bear.

He stopped and stared angrily at Renzi. ‘My only conclusion can be that this intrusion of a battle-fleet into our waters is to be interpreted as a form of menace, of threat to the sovereign rights of neutral Denmark.’

‘Sire, as I have stated to you, I am detached from this affair and can offer only my most sincere advice, which I pray you will accept.’

‘What advice can you possibly give me, sir?’

It was the last throw.

‘Sire, this whole business is in train for one thing, and one only. That the British government may be assured of the security of its Baltic trade.’

‘Ha!’

‘In a manner that is unequivocal and committed.’

‘If you’re talking of an alliance or alignment of interests at diplomatic level, you’re insane. The French would never-’

‘No, sir, I am not. I’m speaking of a move that at one stroke would send the British armada back to England and at the same time render Denmark of no value to Bonaparte and therefore of no military interest.’

‘Do tell me then, my noble lord, what will be your marvellous remedy?’

‘My most sincere advice to you, sire, is to release the Danish fleet into the custody of the British admiral, to be returned in its entirety after this unpleasantness is over.’

At first he thought he’d not been heard, then saw Bernstorff’s look of horror, and the Crown Prince standing rigid with anger, his eyes blazing.

‘This – this is monstrous! It’s barbaric and unworthy of a great nation!’

‘Yet if it achieves its object-’

‘It strikes at the heart of Danish honour to yield up our fleet in the teeth of a superior hostile threat.’

‘Sire, if it’s seen that Denmark is powerless to block the Sound neither Britain nor France may derive any further advantage from interfering with the neutrality of your nation.’

‘Never! On my honour, I shall never do it.’

‘Sire, I beg you. It’s without question that the admiral will launch his fleet else, and with diplomacy at a stand-’

‘I said no!’ shrieked the Crown Prince, slamming both his fists on the desk in a crash. ‘The Danes will not be dictated to! Honour demands we resist – and we shall, God help us!’

‘Sire, if-’

‘No more,’ Frederik said huskily. ‘This audience is at an end.’

‘Your Highness, my duty urges me-’

‘Go. Now.’ He faced Renzi, his chest heaving. ‘You’ve performed your duty, sir, now leave us to ours.’