adjacent to Serbia and since they coincided with Serbia's National Day, they might provoke some regrettable actions.
'Regrettable actions?' the Austrian asked.
Yes, very regrettable, the Serbian envoy said. Under the circumstances an Austrian Army soldier of the Serb race might be misled into loading his rifle with real bullets to aim it at His Imperial Highness. Therefore the Serbian government earnestly hoped that the Austrian government would want to shift both the time and the place of the maneuvers.
It was Count von Bilinski's turn to do some throat-clearing. He replied that, first of all, the police reported peace and quiet in Bosnia, including the Bosnian capital Sarajevo. Furthermore the army exercises would take place nowhere near the Serbian border. Lastly, he had no doubt whatsoever that His Imperial Highness, the Archduke Crown Prince, enjoyed the full loyalty of the entire Austrian Armed Forces. Or did his Excellency have specific information to the contrary?
The Serbian envoy said, no, he could offer nothing specific. The concern of the Serbian Government simply reflected the general mood of the Serbian people.
Count von Bilinski gave a civil nod. His Excellency's remarks, he said, would receive the consideration they deserved. Meanwhile he was grateful to His Excellency for taking the trouble to visit him on such a lovely day. The Serbian envoy, on his part, thanked the Minister for extending him so gracious a reception. And the mendacities of etiquette continued until the gold-on-white doors closed on the encounter.
***
Of course the envoy's visit had been prompted by some quite specific information. It had been relayed to Serbia's premier Panic by his Minister of the Interior: A contact at the frontier had reported that on the night from June 1 to June 2 three young men, heavily armed, had been spirited across the river Drina which separated Serbia from Austrian Bosnia.
The purpose and identity of the youths were not known. Known to the Prime Minister, however, were the ways of the Black Hand. Known, too, was the Archduke's forthcoming presence in Sarajevo as well as the Black Hand's motives for turning him into a corpse. Decked out in Serb patriotism, they aimed at sedition against the Serb government. A murder of that enormity would cause an imbroglio convenient for the Black Hand-a chance to seize power.
Prime Minister Pagic could not idly turn his back while such a scheme moved forward, could not let killers, dispatched by Apis across the Drina River, continue toward the Archduke. He must warn Austria. But the warning must be masked. After all, Apis was still Chief of Serbian Army Intelligence. Pagic had not been able to dislodge that bald monster. By giving Austria specifics about a possible assassination, he might be giving away clues leading to the complicity of a high Serbian official and so incriminate the whole country. Hence a compromise: Panic instructed his envoy to alert Austria but to omit any genuine details.
In Vienna Bilinski did as he was done to. He was just as cunning about not telling the truth just as careful. He told neither the Archduke nor the police nor the army nor Austrian Intelligence about that visit to his office. He, too, had politic reasons.
Bilinski disliked General Potiorek, the Austrian Military Governor of Bosnia, a Serb-eating hotspur of the General Conrad stripe. If Bilinski passed on these vague, probably meaningless whispers of the Serb envoy, they would eventually benefit Potiorek. Despite their unreality, Potiorek would use them to vindicate his bias, strengthen his position. This, in turn, would heighten his insolence toward Bilinski who was his nominal superior as Minister in charge of Bosnia. And Potiorek was already insolent enough.
Potiorek had appropriated a privilege belonging to Bilinski. He, not Bilinski, had made the arrangements for the Archduke's sojourn in Bosnia; worse yet, he had then sent the Archduke's program to all ministries except Bilinski's. On top of that, Bilinski had not even received an invitation to the state dinner! Why should Bilinski play Potiorek's intelligenceassistant and feed Potiorek every scrap of information that might or might not be authentic, that might or might not help Potiorek to do his job?
Bilinski retaliated with his silence. And General Potiorek did his job by his-uninformed-lights. Of the 22,000 troops deployed near Sarajevo for maneuvers, he detailed only an honor guard for the Archduke's route in the city itself. This was to show that under Potiorek's govenorship Belgrade's propaganda had been unable to shake the allegiance of the population to the Crown: His Imperial Highness required no extra protection in Sarajevo.
But in areas other than security Potiorek launched preparations aplenty. Throughout June telegraph keys kept clicking between Potiorek's office and the archducal chancellery at Belvedere Palace in Vienna. What wines would His Imperial Highness prefer at various dinners? Would Highness like to approve the seating at all the tables? Did Highness wish to specify menus? As for the horse His Imperial Highness would grace, what would be the best saddle and which the most comfortable stirrup length? And what was Highness's exact weight, so as to select the proper mount?
There was a moment, peculiarly enough, when all these questions seemed to be asked in vain.
That moment had come the day before the Serbian envoy's visit to Bilinski. On June 4, Franz Joseph received his Heir Apparent in audience. It was the first meeting between uncle and nephew since the older man had recovered from his illness. In contrast to some previous encounters, this one seemed to proceed quite cordially. But after expressing his pleasure at seeing the Emperor so well, the Archduke made a rather unexpected reference to his own health. He had not felt very fit lately, he said. The weather down in Bosnia was bound to be hot in mid- summer. He had been asking himself whether he was in a condition to undertake the journey.
Franz Joseph looked at Franz Ferdinand. The Archduke appeared to be as robust as ever. A bit curtly the Emperor asked if the purpose of this conversation was to inform him that Franz Ferdinand did not wish to go to the Sarajevo exercises.
Oh, he did wish to go, Franz Ferdinand said. But he would be grateful if he could bring Sophie along; his wife was always a boost to his constitution.
The Emperor confessed himself puzzled. After all, he said, Sophie usually came along on maneuvers-Franz Ferdinand needed no special permission for that purpose. Yes, the Archduke said, but what he meant was that with His Majesty's gracious approval he, Franz Ferdinand, would like to have Sophie with him during the subsequent state visit to Sarajevo itself. Her presence would certainly lighten the burden.
Franz Joseph was ancient but not slow. He understood what Franz Ferdinand really meant: to make Sophie the Crown Princess at least while the two were in Sarajevo. At her husband's side she would share all the homage shown to the Crown Prince.
A tiresome issue, a tiresome audience. 'Very well,' Franz Joseph said. 'If you go, let her go with you everywhere. Now do as you like.'
That ended Franz Ferdinand's reluctance about Sarajevo, which had been no reluctance at all but rather a basis for negotiations now successfully concluded. Never mind the old man's gruffness-it was his consent that mattered. As the Archduke took his leave he kissed the Emperor's hand heartily as never before.
Never before-certainly not on Habsburg soil-had Sophie received the ceremonial respect she would soon be shown at Sarajevo. And never before had the Archduke been quite so confident of himself and of his future. The tubercle bacillus was the only assassin he truly feared. Some years earlier he'd asked his personal physician for a hand-written note: ' I, Dr. Viktor Eisenmenger, hereby certify that His Imperial and Royal Highness the Archduke Franz Ferdinand has been entirely cured of tuberculosis and that he will never suffer a relapse again.' When anxious, he would reach for the pocket where he always carried 'my life certificate.'
His staff saw him reach for it much less often in the spring of 1914. His hypochondria was receding. As for bullets or bombs, he had always been a fatalist. 'Precautions?' he'd once said to his secretary. 'Bodyguards? I put up with them, but that's all rubbish. We are at all times in God's hands. Worry paralyzes life.'
Of course, he was not nearly as philosophical about chal lenges thrust at him by sworn enemies-the likes of General Conrad or the Emperor's First Lord Chamberlain Prince Montenuovo. Yet in June the Archduke scented victory even in that arena. He discerned it in the Emperor's consent on Sophie. He saw it-ever since the Emperor's illness-in the quality of bows and curtsies greeting him. They seemed less rigid, more spontaneous. He didn't crave acclaim as the Kaiser did, nor encourage it even indirectly like Franz Joseph. Playacting the Lord Affable was not his forte. He disliked indulging the people unnecessarily because he hated indulging himself (even his hunting mania was a pursuit as relentless on his comfort as it was on the lives of ducks and deer). But now he sensed, if not popularity, a readier acceptance of his imperial destiny.
23
