Inferno

Chapter 49

Footmen and soldiers regarded Lord Farndon stonily as he sat moodily in the waiting room. The Crown Prince and Bernstorff remained closeted together, their voices rising and falling behind closed doors. Eventually he returned to his apartment and slumped in a chair: in the face of the inexorable grind of events his mission had probably been doomed before it had begun yet he had to play it out to the last.

One advantage only remained. There would be no unleashing of the dogs of war until the fleet had his categorical assertion that further negotiations were futile, and that was far from the case. He was certain he’d at least preserved the character of a plain-speaking impartial observer, and there was still a chance that Frederik would grasp that his best interests lay in being seen by all to have yielded to insuperable force.

Renzi would then have suggestions to offer: that the fleet proudly depart in line ahead, each ship manned by its Danish crew and commanded by a Dane, with all appropriate banners and ensigns amain, nothing abroad to imply craven surrender. It could be handled smoothly and with all the honours of war.

The day ended inconclusively. He was neither summoned nor dismissed.

Bernstorff kept at a distance and Renzi dined alone. He retired, knowing that the clock was ticking towards an unknown future.

At breakfast the next morning he had hopes that the Crown Prince might have had a change of heart and come down to greet him but, lingering over his coffee, Renzi saw no sign of him.

Somewhat at a loss, he rose to return to his suite but the door was flung wide and Bernstorff entered, giving a short bow and a click of the heels. ‘My lord, I would be much obliged should you grant me an interview at the earliest,’ he demanded. Nothing could be read in his expression.

‘Gladly, Count Bernstorff. Shall we …?’

This time it was an inner office and the door was firmly closed.

The foreign minister sat heavily in a chair by his desk and looked away as if reaching for words.

‘My lord. This is to say … that His Royal Highness the Crown Prince Frederik has … decided on a course of action.’

‘I’m happy to hear it, sir.’

‘Which in confidence to you I cannot recommend and I fear will lead to ruin for my country.’

‘May I know what it is?’

‘Sir. He … he is not to be moved, no matter the arguments brought forward, and is irrevocably set in his intentions.’

‘I see.’

‘It is … to resist with all the powers at his command any assault on the integrity of Denmark’s neutrality. He is determined to be seen as standing staunch and true for the honour of Crown and nation. He’s to defy the worst that your armada is threatening and will not capitulate. Sir, I must tell you that during the night hours he left for Copenhagen to order it set in an immediate state of defence – this I have just heard. I do not have to tell you that any motion of your fleet will now be an act of war, and that to all the world against a helpless neutral.’

Renzi went cold. All was changed: by his action Frederik had called the bluff. The fleet must act or slink away defeated. But he knew there would be no withdrawal by the British and the end was therefore inevitable.

Bernstorff gave a thin smile. ‘Sir, do not think I’m unaware of what must follow, but ministers are helpless when princes decree. My lord, I’m before you to beseech your understanding.’

‘If there’s anything …’

‘Thank you. Then I beg of you, follow Prince Frederik to Copenhagen and, from your royal connection, do plead with him to disavow his action. My lord – you are our last hope.’