Dislocated to Success (27 page)

Anyway, one early summer morning, he turned up Gibraltar with the rest of the wives, some more children, a handful of servants and some chests of money and claimed asylum. Well, to be perfectly honest, given the usual fate of Governors of Egypt, the asylum was really quite easy; it may have raised the hackles of the Mail, but frankly we were running about about 400 asylum cases a year and this chap had enough funds to not be a burden, at least for some time. Of course, there were questions about how he came by the money, but to be perfectly honest the Ottoman law on such things was so sketchy that it wasn’t worth contesting. The problem was with the luggage, which included quite a selection of what we called “cultural artefacts” - the largest of which was the Death Mask of King Tut.

Asylum was granted, of course, and he was shoved off into some nice little secluded house in Lincoln whilst everything died down and I awaited the storm of protest from the Ottomans. What surprised me is that it didn’t really happen; there was a letter demanding his return, but it wasn’t even really strongly worded. Nor did they seem concerned about the emptying of the Egyptian treasury - that was more “custom and practice” - and they didn’t even mention the various artefacts. I must admit I was mildly surprised at that, but the Ottomans seemed to have very little regard for other cultures.

As I expected, Roy Strong and the museum mafia threw every teddy they could find out of the pram about the Death Mask and the thought of it going back to the Ottomans. It took rather a long time to deal with the issue, but luckily the Governor didn’t contest the artefacts when we let him keep most of the money. The artefacts went on display in the British Museum, whilst remaining the property of the Province of Egypt, but are retained in the UK for safekeeping. The British Museum pays an annual rent for them, half to the Sublime Porte and half to a trust fund for “the Egyptian people” which is used mainly for support of charitable projects. The early summer crisis was averted.

Chapter 20

There are worse places to be in the high summer than Sweden, although the summer of 1984 was nothing to write home about anywhere in Europe. I was lucky enough to be billeted in the Tullgarn Palace which was the home of Magnus Julius De la Gardie - the leader of the pro-British faction in the Estates. It was very pleasant, although in need of some modernising - as were many palaces and great homes at the time. Not that I spent all my time there; I was very careful to make sure due attention was also paid to Count Horn's partisans.

Horn was slightly on the up at the time; the usual examination of what would have been had led to De la Gardie's faction being somewhat in decline after the Dislocation, as the knowledge of their disastrous foreign and war policy came out. However, as things had progressed De la Gardie had tied his star far more to the UK than to France, whilst Horn had sat back on his laurels rather.

Apart from minor matters, the indirect reason I was here was Sweden's vast reserve of iron ore at Kiruna. Considering there had been at least two attempts to treat for it, the virtue of a third had to be wondered. I did enquire why it was such an asset, to be given a series of facts and figures I barely understood. There was a lot of it, the ores had a very high level of iron content and it would be good for at least 200 years of modern levels of production.

The problem was that the Swedes were almost addicted to protectionism, and insisted on a number of terms for the exploitation of Kiruna that made it unprofitable - or at least not as profitable as carrying back ores from the many other sources becoming available to the steel companies. The Swedish Ministry felt that Kiruna was a national asset, not to be wasted on the likes of Sheffield, and were unhappy about the idea of it being extracted via Narvik.

However, because of this, the Swedes were feeling a little left-behind after the Dislocation; whilst Denmark-Norway and Littoral German States were starting to show signs of prosperity, Sweden only had a number of forestry contracts in Finland, an above average level of agricultural improvements and some small hydro-electric stations to show for both their commerce and their improvement money - which was nearly running out.

So the Foreign Office had been called in again to try make an overall treaty which would make the Sheffield deal possible. The main idea was to try and make the Swedes see reason about tariffs and joint ventures; the other part was to explain why the Steel Companies were actually offering a slightly worse deal than before. The latter part was actually easier than the former part; they understood that the UK now had access to other deposits of a high grade that did not involve building a very expensive railway, just a moderately expensive and much shorter one one through Northern Australia.

The message was starting to get through, mercifully - Horn was feeling vulnerable and De La Gardie just wanted to please. However, there was a bear in the room; both sides constantly pointed out Russia as a problem, although Horn was clear that Sweden had to get along with Russia and they were both angling for some form of security guarantee. That wasn't going to happen; there was no great interest in Baltic affairs, and there was a general dislike of any entangling alliances back at Westminster. However, they were the closest thing to a democracy outside of the UK, and that had to be encouraged, so I used a little bait.

The Swedes were already category A for technology, and they would have been for trade if it wasn't for their very restrictive practices. However, if they consented, I was willing to find a relaxation in Visa conditions - maybe even a programme for working holidays for young Swedes - and perhaps some educational exchanges. They were quite interested, but the ruling group were not quite interested enough.

I managed to come away with a promise that they would consider some of our reforms; unfortunately for Sweden it took a change of power for that to be enacted, and that was still some time off. However, we did come away with some small concessions around tolls in Finland, which was better than nothing. Having concluded this little trip, there was very little time to spare before travelling to the event of the year: the marriage of Maria Theresa of Austria to Duke Francis of Lorraine.

It must be said that the Hapsburgs do know how to put on a do. I ended up taking extensive notes for the next Royal Wedding on how to do things Vienna-style; whilst Prince Charles' was very well done (if I might say so myself), this wedding was organised beautifully, although I did notice that the marquees on the Belvedere were British - which must have cost a fortune to transport to Vienna. Even the potential protocol problem - which could have been a little awkward - was sorted out; Mrs Thatcher was accorded the protocol level of a non-selfstanding Fürstin for the duration, although there was a rumour that Karl offered to make her a Countess of the Empire on the spot and she had declined.

Of course, just to get to Vienna was an exercise in planning and Diplomacy. The Habsburgs had been very generous with the invites to the UK, and there was a lengthy discussion on who should go and who shouldn't. There were issues of logistics as well; the trip to Vienna was not the easiest in Europe, in fact it was one of the most difficult. Eventually it was decided that the Queen and the PM would go, along with a large supporting cast, as it was made quite clear that Karl had only missed Prince Charles' wedding because of his broken arm. The idea of both the Queen and the PM going gave the security people kittens - to say the least - and there were a number of suggestions until the Crown Prince of Prussia saved the day. He pointed out that if an RAF Shannon could land on the Spree, as had been done a couple of times, it could also land on the Donau.

Anyway, there was quite a bit of fuss about this, and eventually there was a meeting involving the Queen, the Prime Minister, the head of Security and the Lord High Airships. The Queen and the PM were in complete agreement about what they wanted, and I'm afraid that meant that the brass hats didn't stand a chance. A plan was drawn up, several mercifully unneeded contingency operations went into place, and the Viennese got to see our newest, scariest and loudest helicopters in action transporting fuel bladders to what was called by wags RAF Prater.

Obviously, we were not all transported on the same flight; there were six flights in all and it was all arranged so that, for instance, the Queen, the PM, Prince Andrew, Princess Anne and myself were on different flights. We flew direct to Vienna - albeit by a longer route than was needed, which allowed for some landing alternates - and were cordially greeted and taken to our apartments in the new British embassy, which was a little cramped for the duration but it at least had all the modern facilities, even if we did have to put up the Duke of Wellington on a cot in the billiard room - he said he’d endured a lot worse in the Army.

I arrived three days before the wedding, because there were a lot of people who wanted a little discussion about this and that, and the Queen arrived two days before and was personally greeted by the Archduchess Maria Theresa - who, despite having been very busy with all the final preparations, had been grateful for her assistance during her stay in the UK. Mrs Thatcher turned up the day before and flew out the day after, which was a shame because she missed a lovely little tour of historic Vienna by carriage. I had been before the Dislocation, and whilst it was very different some bits were quite familiar. I did particularly enjoy seeing the Belvedere just after it had been built, and seeing the new houses with some modern influences going up further down the Rennweg. Vienna in the main was pretty much unchanged, it was so distant from the UK that only the smallest improvements had been made and there was little sign of any modernisation. However, I was assured that things were more hygienic and that the changes were being made slowly because of costs -
very
slowly appeared to be correct.

The wedding itself was quite delightful, helped by a lovely summer's day. There was a wedding breakfast just for family and close friends, the Queen attended that. We had a little do at the Embassy beforehand with Tokay and Omelettes Arnold Bennett - the smoked haddock having come in on the Shannons - which was very successful, with two Electors, five Princes, three Thronfolgers, half a dozen Counts and a baker’s dozen of Archbishops and Bishops. The wedding itself was at the delightful Augustinerkirche next to the Hofburg, which was a little small considering the numbers invited, but we all managed to squeeze in and enjoy what was a comparatively short ceremony with a very good choir. The music was very traditional with no surprise composition as had been rumoured.

Everyone turned up in their best finery, of course; uniforms, plumes, orders and hats abounded. Even I wore my order of St. Lazarus, which was no longer a problem as it had been confirmed by the Duke of Orleans and upgraded to a knight’s cross. However, there were a group who eschewed uniform, mainly British but with some of the Northern Germans who had turned up in very smart British morning suits. The Crown Prince of Prussia had a particularly well-tailored example which he later informed me was by Paul Smith, although the whole group looked very dapper - it certainly set tongues wagging. I was told that Viennese tailors had copies of some of them on sale within days. Similarly, the Prime Minister, ever the iconoclast, had a very simple blue dress on with very little ornament, and the trademark pearls and blue handbag. She stood out, which was precisely what she intended; everyone knew who she was, a powerful symbol of modern Britain.

Afterwards, there was a family reception in the Hofburg - that was kept to close family only - and the rest of us went to a giant reception and party held in the Prater, with food and drink from several marquees. The organisation of the fiakers was done very well, with none having to queue for more than a few minutes. The Bride and Groom joined us after a couple of hours, by which time everyone had eaten and drunk their fill, and there was music, dancing and politics until well after midnight. It was nice to see such a happy bridal couple; whilst this was still a dynastic marriage, it was also a love marriage. In fact, at the tables with the older royalty, the conversation frequently veered to who had an available son or daughter; it was more suitable for the Queen Mother than the Queen, however both she and Princess Anne spent a good deal of time talking horses with various others.

I ended up with the Hannovers, the Marlboroughs (there as the Graf and Grafin von Mellenberg), the Crown Prince of Prussia, a rather jolly Bohemian Count whose name I didn't catch and the Fürstäbtissin von Herford. The Duke of Marlborough assured me that the butt of so many House of Lords jokes was pronounced Focking and that started off a rather ribald conversation about false friends and place names; one never knew Imperial Abbesses had such a wide-ranging mind, even if they are Lutherans. However, I did notice that Prince Andrew and Princess Philippine enjoyed more dances than you would expect, to the approving glare of her father.

The next day, the happy couple departed for some idyllic Schloß somewhere in Carinthia for their nuptial holiday, and Vienna cleared itself up. After relieving ourselves of hangovers, we found the PM deep in conversation - with two translators working furiously - as she discussed Hayek with the Reich Chancellor. I knew that they had made some very modern financial reforms in the Crownlands, but I didn't expect the finer points of Hayek to arise; neither, I suspect, did the PM, but she was more than holding her own. The Austrians became, in her mind, people we could do business with after that conversation. She departed that evening - there were always things to be done - but I did manage to take her to a Viennese coffee house which had been started by two cis-Austrians and had reintroduced Sachertorte one hundred years early. We had a private room, and we went through the list of supplicants I had seen and decided what could be done. On leaving we found a large group of people, mainly young, who cheered her to the rafters; I think it was the first time that she really realised what an effect she was having on the young people of Europe.