Chapter 341: Chapter 341
The rain started before dawn and did not stop.
By nine o’clock it had turned from a drizzle into a steady English sheet that made the flag above Number 10 hang heavy and dark.
In the Cabinet Room the green baize table was crowded with files and tea cups.
A map of Central Europe lay unfolded, pinned by a paperweight and the Prime Minister’s spectacles case.
The windows were beaded with water so thick the street beyond looked like it had been rubbed out.
Neville Chamberlain sat at the head of the table, chin forward, hands neatly folded as if an invigilator were about to hand him an examination paper.
To his right sat Halifax, long face unreadable.
Around them clustered secretaries and ministers, the private staff with notebooks open, pens poised for instructions that would settle the day.
Chamberlain began in a tone he used for many difficult things a calm, oddly intimate.
"We have received the latest from Berlin. The Chancellor wishes for what he calls ’recognition of legitimate interests’ in Central Europe. He insists he does not want war. He claims to be misunderstood."
Someone shifted a chair leg the scrape made men look up and then look down again.
Halifax tapped the map with one finger, faintly, as if at a piano.
"He admires firmness," Halifax said, careful as ever. "If you go, go as a man of reason who expects reason back."
Chamberlain glanced at him. "I intend to. I will not accuse. I will not provoke. But I will not ignore. We must prevent a general war. I repeat must."
A junior minister cleared his throat. "Prime Minister, with respect there are reports of increased rail traffic in Silesia. Our attaché calls it routine manoeuvre..."
"Everything is routine until it isn’t," Halifax murmured.
Chamberlain’s mouth thinned.
"Our information is often unclear when it first arrives," Chamberlain said. "I have asked the Foreign Office for confirmatory cables. In the meantime, if personal conversation can spare us calamity, I will pursue it."
He turned a page in the file. "I propose to fly to Germany within three days. The Luftwaffe can fly; so can we."
The words landed like a stone in water.
The ripples moved around the table in the small ways men show surprise a pencil straightened, a cough caught.
The trauma of the last war lived in all their houses it sat at their tables and slept in their spare rooms.
Few were ready to be the first to say "don’t try."
Sir Horace Wilson, grey as the morning, leaned in. "Arrangements can be made with Heston by tomorrow. The Germans will receive you at Berchtesgaden."
"Very well," Chamberlain said. "Let us make our object plain to establish a basis for non-aggression in Europe. Not a trick of language, not a temporary plaster, but an understanding."
He looked up. "If we can speak as men, not as enemies, we may arrest this slide."
Halifax nodded, grave. "Yes. Go as a statesman. Return as a realist. If he means peace, he will show it."
"If he does not?" asked a voice from the far end of the table.
"Then we will know where we stand," Chamberlain said, and there was nothing soft in that.
The meeting dissolved into the scratch of pens and the low press of voices.
Instructions went to the Cabinet Office a message was drafted to the German Embassy.
In the corridor outside, the Prime Minister paused.
He pinched the bridge of his nose and slid his spectacles off and on again.
When Halifax joined him, he spoke without looking over.
"I am not blind," he said.
"I know," Halifax replied.
Chamberlain exhaled. "Then pray I am not late."
The House of Commons corridor was a catalogue of umbrellas and damp cuffs.
A messenger trotted past with a bundle of blue papers tied in string.
The smell of tobacco crawled up from the smoking room, the bells chimed the hour.
Newsbills from the morning editions lay drying against a radiator.
PACT HOLDS, TENSION EASES, HOPE FOR PEACE, PRIME MINISTER TO CONFER WITH GERMAN LEADER.
Winston Churchill walked slowly, hands behind his back, head tilted as if listening to a voice only he could hear.
Duff Cooper kept pace at his shoulder; two younger MPs faces still new to the place trailed in a nervous orbit.
"Is it true?" Cooper asked. "He’s going at week’s end?"
"He is," Churchill said. "He believes being reasonable will be contagious."
One of the younger men tried for a smile. "Perhaps it will be."
Churchill stopped at a noticeboard plastered with typed communiqués.
He took one Foreign Office: Situation Stable;
No Evidence of Aggression and folded it once, then again, and slid it into his pocket as if it might be useful later as a charm against foolishness.
"I have nothing against hope," he said. "I object only to mistaking it for policy."
They resumed walking.
A member from the government benches passed them, gave Churchill a thin nod, then looked away.
Churchill’s mouth curved into the half-smile he used in place of shrugging.
"Some of our friends are worried about being seen with you," Cooper said.
"They are worried about being right too early," Churchill replied. "It is a legitimate fear in this House." Fresh chapters posted on novｅlfire.net
They reached a window, threw a glance down at the rain-polished courtyard, and moved on.
The younger MP to Churchill’s left spoke up, voice careful. "What do you expect him to bring back, Mr. Churchill?"
"A document," Churchill said. "Signed with perfect manners, phrased with exquisite restraint, and worth nothing the moment it meets the appetite of a regime that eats promises for breakfast."
They reached the door to a small committee room.
Churchill put a hand on the brass handle and paused.
"If he signs anything binding, we shall have peace on paper and war on rail timetables."
"That’s very good," Cooper said.
"It is also very bad," Churchill replied, and pushed the door.