I’ve forgotten what (if anything) Lloyd George has been up to in TTL … was that a Welsh claret the poison was mixed into? 
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I’ve forgotten what (if anything) Lloyd George has been up to in TTL … was that a Welsh claret the poison was mixed into?
Well, he got kicked well before he had the chance to do anything treasonous (aside from insider trading) but he's still alive and reasonably well...so I guess he could come back in some capacity.
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Going by the theme of treachery, it could very well be a insider to the Baltic Plan. Which also opens up Churchill as a possible actor, poisoning by alcohol seems very fitting for him
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Now that would be intense. Even now, not many people know about the baltic plan outside of the senior military and cabinet.
Churchill almost certainly had nothing to do with it. He's been back in England only as long as Rodger has, and has been kept very busy...but he's not been told directly about Operation Austerlitz.
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Well, here finally is an advantage to the very slow burn and ww1 focus at the moment - when the German DLC update drops and Germany gets some proper non-fascist (and non Hitler fascist) paths, we can use them.
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Rumblings seem to be thinking that its happening. Africa, South America, and the Axis powers are the parts that haven't been expanded yet, but they've started doing it recently...
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The Ninth Circle – The Twelfth Night Massacre Part 2
The Ninth Circle – The Twelfth Night Massacre Part 2
5th January 1916
5th January 1916
Rodger was desperately trying and failing to discover a comfortable and believable way of appearing attentive in large meetings. It was not as though the occasion lacked interest or import. This could well be the most significant thing he ever had any part in beyond having children. However, he had begun the meeting, introduced everyone, walked them through the original, deviated and current plans that encompassed Operation Austerlitz, answered all their questions, given a further summary, and listened in turn to several excellent pointers from the army side of affairs.
It was at that point, two hours into the day (and, he checked his watch, five hours ago) that the brinksmanship started. To his credit, the new Commander in Chief, Douglas Haigh, had enough on his plate already than to throw his weight around – and Fisher of course had nothing to prove and would still rather almost nobody in the room know anything about the campaign. Everyone else though…
“I still say the northern landing point is sufficient. Casting landings over too wide an area…”
“That is all well and good, but surely it has been made plain that…”
“Amsterdam must be retaken in the first day. The first hour!”
“Asking men to volunteer for a suicide mission is not in keeping with the best practices of His Majesty…”
And on and on it went. Yes, two landing sites were going to be used. Yes, sending a ship and marines up the water to Amsterdam was incredibly risky. Yes, intelligence did indicate the city was empty of a garrison save for soldiers on leave. Yes, the Kaiser was still, for some reason, planning a good will tour of the southern Netherlands and frontline that would no doubt remove some heat from the north.
Yes, the French were on board, and no, they were not happy that the British were focusing on the Netherlands first, over sending all three armies to Paris instead.
Bloody frogs.
Rodger shook his head minutely, clearing his mind. It would not do to smirk at…whoever it was currently standing in front of the map display and pointing rather insistingly at it. Why he was pointing at southern England and Wales, Rodger could not quite ascertain.
“Excuse me sir, urgent message for you.”
Thank Christ.
“Thank you, James.” Rodger glanced up from the folded note towards the open door, from which increasingly loud shouting could be heard coming down the corridor. He also took in the heavy breathing of his servant, as though he had run a mile in a minute. “Any trouble?”
“…yes sir. Read the note before they burst in.”
“Good show…” the word died in his throat as the two-sentence message in the Duke of London’s hand was read. Rodger froze in place, hands tightly gripped around the small piece of paper, as the room slowly quietened. The outside voices grew louder and closer until two other men in uniform burst through the door and another came close on their heels.
James’ hand rested on his shoulder throughout, and he leant down and whispered, “I’m sorry, lad,” as the rest of the room was told what had just occurred that evening in the Square Mile.
“By Jove…all of them…?”
“A riot in the middle of London? Disgraceful…”
“Both Balfour and Asquith? My God…”
“It must have been a bomb. Every building must be checked.”
“Blood everywhere.”
“How? Who?”
Rodger slowly stood and put his back to the room, the confusion, and the sound of everyone suddenly talking all at once and went instead to the sideboard of water and gin, above which a large mirror hung.
He stared into its depths, noting every small detail of himself in that moment, from the still-crisp shirt and collar, to the neatly folded and pinned left sleeve, to the gold filigree of the shoulder and chest. Absently, his fingers went for his pockets, one of which contained the pearl and platinum watch his grandfather had given him upon his entrance exam into the Navy…and the other containing the holster for an extremely wicked short blade from Persia, that his father had given him as a boy.
Rodger breathed in slowly, in and out, closed his eyes and turned around.
“Quiet,” the Earl of Atherleigh ordered. “I ask you all to not panic.”
He cast his eyes around the lot of them. Fisher and Haig looked at him uncertainty, the rest appeared astonished and…his eyes flickered…Kitchener…no.
“Sealord…General…” he nodded at the two, “please continue the meeting and relay the final agreement of all parties to me at your convenience. Everyone present will remain and be about their duty.” He eyed Field Marshall Roberts, the current Minister for Armaments, and his second, Winston. “I believe it would be best if you gentlemen went to Waterloo Place, where the government and parliamentary parties can meet in safety. As of twenty minutes ago, much of the United Kingdom’s cabinet is…indisposed. We cannot afford any further losses. James?”
“Sir.”
“Round up everyone in London. Police escorts…and family escorts. Where is Henry?”
“He went to…he was at the Lord Mayor’s banquet this evening, sir.”
“Then he has his hands full. Send someone to Downing Street and another to Whitehall. I don’t think the civil service has been attacked…yet…and we will need them.”
“What will you do, sir?”
Atherleigh glanced at Winston, who had partially risen. “I have no place in the party or government, but I can inform His Majesty and see to their protection. I expect I will join you all presently.”
Several men looked as though they might like to argue, especially Winston, but Atherleigh stared them down. “My home is large, nearby, and most importantly secure. Parliament is not, there is already unrest on the streets, and we do not know who we can trust. Please…” he closed his eyes briefly, “our country is in grave danger.”
“He’s right.” Kitchner stood slowly. “I will accompany the…admiral, to the Palace, and take instruction. One of us will then go onto the hospital where all afflicted will have been taken, whilst the other shall return to Waterloo.”
Roberts, the other member of the Cabinet present, nodded in agreement. “I’ll send a message to Frederick. He can round up some of the Lords. Winston, the MPs?”
Winston scowled. “Many are out of town, but I can send messages to those who are not here. We…” he paused, and then continued “we need to find out who…that is…”
“Hence my going to the hospital,” Kitchner finished. He struggled for a moment with his glove, and then looked up again. “England expects, as a great man once said.”
Atherleigh nodded, not trusting himself to speak.
Everyone quietly did as instructed.
…
The journey to Buckingham Palace was a quick one, but even so, the mood of the capital was clearly declining faster. Police lined the streets, the Guard had been turned out, and a watch had been placed on lookout for his arrival.
Atherleigh strode through the halls with conviction, until right before the final closed door, when the brief pause before the footmen nearly ruined everything. He nodded briefly at the two men, whom seemed to be struggling somewhat themselves, before entering the study.
Edward, of course, was in his arms immediately.
“All that I have, Rodger. All that I am…”
Rodger pressed his forehead into David’s shoulder. “I know.”
Atherleigh put him back. “We must go on.” Turning to the grey haired and faced man sat at the desk, he bowed sharply. “Your Majesty, it is my unfortunate duty to request your presence to sit in council with your ministers.”
Atherleigh strode through the halls with conviction, until right before the final closed door, when the brief pause before the footmen nearly ruined everything. He nodded briefly at the two men, whom seemed to be struggling somewhat themselves, before entering the study.
Edward, of course, was in his arms immediately.
“All that I have, Rodger. All that I am…”
Rodger pressed his forehead into David’s shoulder. “I know.”
Atherleigh put him back. “We must go on.” Turning to the grey haired and faced man sat at the desk, he bowed sharply. “Your Majesty, it is my unfortunate duty to request your presence to sit in council with your ministers.”
The King acquiesced with practiced reality. “Indeed.” He rose and put a hand on Atherleigh’s shoulder. “One day soon, we shall talk. We are all diminished tonight, but…we must indeed go on. Have you summoned the parties?”
Atherleigh nodded.
“Good. I do not believe I can fully involve myself in resolving the struggle that is no doubt about to begin, but I also believe I should be at hand regardless. Does this suit you?”
“It does. Thank you, sir. Both of you,” he nodded and grasped at his gloves. “We…should be about it. The town is restless even now.”
“Perhaps I shall speak at the BBC later tonight or early tomorrow,” the King mused. “Do you think they shall have resolved things by then?”
Atherleigh’s face went dark. “They bloody well better.”
…
Ouster awoke in agony. His face was on fire and beginning to melt. His eyes so pained he could not see. His body dead-weight and still trembling with pain.
A needle went into his arm and moments later, the drug petrified his nerves. Now limp, though still blind and stupid, Ouster attempted to shift upright, or at least into a sitting position.
He was strapped down.
“I’m afraid they’ve seen fit to restrain you after the last attempt, Fred.”
Ouster cocked his head. “That you, Hans?”
“It is,” and a hand found his own in the darkness. “How do you feel?”
“Sore.”
Someone, a women he thought, harrumphed in the background.
“Yes well, that is to be expected. So…where to begin? We are in the royal hospital in Berlin. We managed to get everyone out alive. The Poles send their regards and best wishes, as does High Command. It is the 6th of January 1916, at about one in the morning. The war goes on, the Bulgarians and Romanians joined the Austrians in the invasion of Bessarabia, and all is well last I heard.”
“The family?”
“Worried, of course. Anna and the Field Marshall visit daily. The children…have not been allowed to yet.”
Ouster stilled at his tone. “How…that is…how bad?”
Hans’ silence said everything.
“Hans…please…”
“You picked up a nasty infection in your lungs, a bullet in your thigh from somewhere, and a concussion from repeat beatings from that nutjob. Er…and the…well, your face is a bit of a mess.”
“Did I lose the eye?”
“Not lost…no idea how good the vision will be though. And they say it might get infected and thus…”
His hand was squeezed reassuringly.
“Is that all?”
“The majority. A few cuts and bruises, and your face generally on the left side got slashed up by the knife and by the sawbones as they got it out, so they’ve done some skin grafts and other things. The lung infection was pretty nasty but a few of us got it or something similar so I think you’ll be alright on that score.”
Ouster tested his fingers and hand movements. They seemed acceptable. Legs and feet too, though weighed down by blankets and straps. “Anything else I should know?”
“Actually, there is something just on the radio. I’ve had a runner go for more information.”
“Oh?”
“Yes…somehow, someone took a crack at the British government yesterday. Its all confused but they might all be dead.”
“How on earth did that happen?” Ouster attempted to sit upright again and failed.
“Easy,” Han’s hand pressed his shoulder down. “Something happened in London. The British are attempting to keep it quiet, but their King already had a radio announcement telling everyone to remain calm.”
“Dear Lord…I pray we had nothing to do with it.”
“Why? Good riddance to bad rubbish.”
“Because they’ll use it against us internationally, and can also justify striking directly at our government, army heads and the Kaiser.” He wished he could rub his face or pace around to focus his thoughts. “I suppose it depends on who died and how, but the British aren’t going to forget or forgive whoever is responsible. What a mess.”
“Is nothing simple in this bloody war?”
“Death,” Ouster responded.
A needle went into his arm and moments later, the drug petrified his nerves. Now limp, though still blind and stupid, Ouster attempted to shift upright, or at least into a sitting position.
He was strapped down.
“I’m afraid they’ve seen fit to restrain you after the last attempt, Fred.”
Ouster cocked his head. “That you, Hans?”
“It is,” and a hand found his own in the darkness. “How do you feel?”
“Sore.”
Someone, a women he thought, harrumphed in the background.
“Yes well, that is to be expected. So…where to begin? We are in the royal hospital in Berlin. We managed to get everyone out alive. The Poles send their regards and best wishes, as does High Command. It is the 6th of January 1916, at about one in the morning. The war goes on, the Bulgarians and Romanians joined the Austrians in the invasion of Bessarabia, and all is well last I heard.”
“The family?”
“Worried, of course. Anna and the Field Marshall visit daily. The children…have not been allowed to yet.”
Ouster stilled at his tone. “How…that is…how bad?”
Hans’ silence said everything.
“Hans…please…”
“You picked up a nasty infection in your lungs, a bullet in your thigh from somewhere, and a concussion from repeat beatings from that nutjob. Er…and the…well, your face is a bit of a mess.”
“Did I lose the eye?”
“Not lost…no idea how good the vision will be though. And they say it might get infected and thus…”
His hand was squeezed reassuringly.
“Is that all?”
“The majority. A few cuts and bruises, and your face generally on the left side got slashed up by the knife and by the sawbones as they got it out, so they’ve done some skin grafts and other things. The lung infection was pretty nasty but a few of us got it or something similar so I think you’ll be alright on that score.”
Ouster tested his fingers and hand movements. They seemed acceptable. Legs and feet too, though weighed down by blankets and straps. “Anything else I should know?”
“Actually, there is something just on the radio. I’ve had a runner go for more information.”
“Oh?”
“Yes…somehow, someone took a crack at the British government yesterday. Its all confused but they might all be dead.”
“How on earth did that happen?” Ouster attempted to sit upright again and failed.
“Easy,” Han’s hand pressed his shoulder down. “Something happened in London. The British are attempting to keep it quiet, but their King already had a radio announcement telling everyone to remain calm.”
“Dear Lord…I pray we had nothing to do with it.”
“Why? Good riddance to bad rubbish.”
“Because they’ll use it against us internationally, and can also justify striking directly at our government, army heads and the Kaiser.” He wished he could rub his face or pace around to focus his thoughts. “I suppose it depends on who died and how, but the British aren’t going to forget or forgive whoever is responsible. What a mess.”
“Is nothing simple in this bloody war?”
“Death,” Ouster responded.
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The contrast between Ouster's scene and the scenes in London is great. I suspect that Germany's scenes will soon become more depressing as Britain recovers and... makes her displeasure known.
Even if Germany isn't responsible for the mess in London, will hawks use it as an excuse to ramp up the war?
Even if Germany isn't responsible for the mess in London, will hawks use it as an excuse to ramp up the war?
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Naturally they will. British propaganda was very good in ww1. They did an awful lot more with a lot less (or outright fabrications). Killing most of the cabinet at a high table dinner in the middle of London is going to be big news for months all around the world. States don't generally do that to other states (at least not 'civilised' ones).
Fortunately (?) for Germany, the British can't ramp up the war much more than they already have. They've called in all the 'easier" allies they have. The blockade is tighter than OTL (too tight, really). All it really does is give them a greenlight to assassinate as many high ranking germans as possible, and in the meantime use it as pepoganda for the Americans and other neutrals to show how barbaric the huns are.
Expect Ouster to become increasingly depressed as he gets back up to date with the war situation and 1916 becomes unavoidably negative for the Germans in a way 1915 wasn't (even though them not winning by 1915 should have been the big shock/worry).
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Also 1916 is a very important year both for the war and everything else so if there's anything people want me to cover specifically, I'm open to requests.
The Long 19th Century and World in Motion chapters exist for anything that's missed that occurs to me or anyone else later on.
The Long 19th Century and World in Motion chapters exist for anything that's missed that occurs to me or anyone else later on.
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The British system showing it's strengths in the response, a statement from the King basically saying "I'm alive, a new government has been formed, our revenge will be swift and comprehensive" is going to settle most nerves and calm things down. The actual political bun fight may take a bit longer, but it will be true enough by the time he says it to do the job. Indeed from a certain viewpoint it will be true because he says it.
I maintain my position that I don't think Germany did this, because we know Germany still exists after the peace. There is not a fraction of a hope in hell that would be the case if they were actually responsible, though I do concede some of them were stupid enough to at least think about doing it.
1916 had the Black Tom explosion in New York Harbour (the blast damaged the Statue of Liberty!), the attempted biological warfare attacks (anthrax attacks on horse breeders suspected of selling to the Allies) and planning for the terrorist attack on the Kingsland munition factory in Jan 1917.
The attacks had started in Canada as soon as war broke out but in 1915 a German agent bombed the US senate and shot JP Morgan Jr, so they were attacking the US very early, if fairly ineptly. But after this the reaction in the US should be very intense, it is one thing to have Germany blowing up harbours, but if they are killing politicians (which everyone will think they are) then suddenly it is US politicians at risk. I'd be very interested to hear about that.
I maintain my position that I don't think Germany did this, because we know Germany still exists after the peace. There is not a fraction of a hope in hell that would be the case if they were actually responsible, though I do concede some of them were stupid enough to at least think about doing it.
On the subject of incredibly stupid Germans, 1916 OTL saw the German sabotage campaign against America kick into high gear. Yes, they did start the campaign before the US entered the war.
1916 had the Black Tom explosion in New York Harbour (the blast damaged the Statue of Liberty!), the attempted biological warfare attacks (anthrax attacks on horse breeders suspected of selling to the Allies) and planning for the terrorist attack on the Kingsland munition factory in Jan 1917.
The attacks had started in Canada as soon as war broke out but in 1915 a German agent bombed the US senate and shot JP Morgan Jr, so they were attacking the US very early, if fairly ineptly. But after this the reaction in the US should be very intense, it is one thing to have Germany blowing up harbours, but if they are killing politicians (which everyone will think they are) then suddenly it is US politicians at risk. I'd be very interested to hear about that.
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Indeed. Next part shows the sleepless night of trying to build a new coalition, the royals attempting to keep the process going without interfering too much, and Radcliffe working his way towards an early heartattack.
Meanwhile Ouster actually gets a look at some figures and the updated war situation, and naturally has an existential crisis.
Fun times for all.
Oh we'll get to that. Neat and tidy it is not. Especially post war when some of the truth starts to leak.
Oh yeah, the entente is going to make hay out of this as soon as the UK stabilises (which will take a while politically but everything else is relatively unaffected).
This is exactly the sort of thing that makes neutrals nervous/angry, and swings the international favourability back to the British (who were previously not viewed great in some places for the really tight blockade - harsher than the otl early war one).
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One question: HOW??? Amsterdam is situated on a outlet of the Zuiderzee yes, but it isn't the port it used to be. Its traditionall access isn't all too good around this time. The Zuiderzee is treacherous, already during the reign of Willem I did he order the digging of a canal from Amsterdam straight north to Den Helder as to increase the accessability of the port. It was finished in 1824. Why north and not west? Because it was deemed physically impossible at the time to connect Amsterdam with the North Sea through a westward canal, but this came about in 1876. What's the plan for the fleet to attack Amsterdam? The Noordhollandskanaal is useless. Go through the Zuiderzee and risk all its undepths? Or attempt basically a Raid on the Medway-esque operation where a landing secures IJmuiden, its naval fort and the locks, to allow for the main body of the fleet to steam up to the canal to Amsterdam? Isn't there a better target?
Anyways, its still not clear who is behind this attack, but I'm just here hoping Jacky Fisher is able to land himself a job at the top of government one last time
Chapters detailing the way the USA and Netherlands develloped would be nice
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Cutting ahead a bit but when they say ship and marines, they mean a rather small one, via the canals, getting as close as it can and dropping them off. Mixture of a behind the lines raid, suicide mission, distraction and, if it works, massive morale and logistical victory.
In history, one thing you find is assaination plots are rather common, and they are almost always really poorly thought out, involve all kinds of weird groups doing different things, and shambolic even if they work out (I.e. the target dies, one way or another).
In this case...well, we'll see, won't we?
In the long 19th? Will be covered. Plus Netherlands and US during ww1. Becomes important rather soon as these two collide.
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The Ninth Circle – The Twelfth Night Massacre Part 3
The Ninth Circle – The Twelfth Night Massacre Part 3
5th January 1916
5th January 1916
The King’s Radio Speech – 8pm, London
A good evening to you all, hearing this message.
We are speaking to you tonight from the Scarlet Drawing Room of Waterloo Place. We apologise for the lateness of the hour, but recent events have made prudent that my person should speak to you all.
Several hours ago, the great and the good of the City of London met in the time-honoured tradition of our forebears, to celebrate the twelfth night of Christmas. The Yuletide celebrations were interrupted by a terrible and murderous attack upon several persons at the gathering, who are now in the care of medical professionals. It is with regret that we inform you all that our Prime Minister and several members of both Parties have been injured during this time. Simultaneously, it appears that several disturbances of the peace were observed throughout London, and we thank the Metropolitan and City of London police services for their swift responses. We now understand that the streets have been cleared, crowds have dispersed, and the safety of the general public has been preserved.
Due to these regrettable and criminal acts, it has been proven necessary for our government to assemble here, in order to establish new ministerial positions in security and safety. We are reliably informed that later tonight, our government will be in a position to affirm such questions that have arisen, and assuage any issue brought forward by tonight’s events.
We are heartened that, in times of war and turmoil, such that we are in, our officials and ministers have risen to the unexpected and unwelcome task put forward to them, and we have every confidence that upon the morrow, we shall emerge whole and strong from such damage done. It is our intention to reassure each and every one of you that this country, and this Parliament, and this Crown, remains committed to the common good of you, our subjects, the pursuit of a just and sensible peace in this current Great War, and the will of God Almighty.
We leave you now, with these words of comfort, and pray that you shall have a very good evening, a happy new year, and with the reassurance that we shall address you all again before midnight tonight.
May Almighty God bless you all, and this nation, and all such good nations of this earth.
We are speaking to you tonight from the Scarlet Drawing Room of Waterloo Place. We apologise for the lateness of the hour, but recent events have made prudent that my person should speak to you all.
Several hours ago, the great and the good of the City of London met in the time-honoured tradition of our forebears, to celebrate the twelfth night of Christmas. The Yuletide celebrations were interrupted by a terrible and murderous attack upon several persons at the gathering, who are now in the care of medical professionals. It is with regret that we inform you all that our Prime Minister and several members of both Parties have been injured during this time. Simultaneously, it appears that several disturbances of the peace were observed throughout London, and we thank the Metropolitan and City of London police services for their swift responses. We now understand that the streets have been cleared, crowds have dispersed, and the safety of the general public has been preserved.
Due to these regrettable and criminal acts, it has been proven necessary for our government to assemble here, in order to establish new ministerial positions in security and safety. We are reliably informed that later tonight, our government will be in a position to affirm such questions that have arisen, and assuage any issue brought forward by tonight’s events.
We are heartened that, in times of war and turmoil, such that we are in, our officials and ministers have risen to the unexpected and unwelcome task put forward to them, and we have every confidence that upon the morrow, we shall emerge whole and strong from such damage done. It is our intention to reassure each and every one of you that this country, and this Parliament, and this Crown, remains committed to the common good of you, our subjects, the pursuit of a just and sensible peace in this current Great War, and the will of God Almighty.
We leave you now, with these words of comfort, and pray that you shall have a very good evening, a happy new year, and with the reassurance that we shall address you all again before midnight tonight.
May Almighty God bless you all, and this nation, and all such good nations of this earth.
…
“Was that sufficient?”
“Quite sufficient, Your Majesty,” the BBC technician nodded.
“It had to be done,” Atherleigh sighed, making to stand up tiredly from sitting in on the broadcast. “That dratted Harmsworth ran an early release.”
“Yes…Viscount Northcliffe has always had his own views on the freedom of the Press and the national interest,” the King replied, nodding in thanks as the microphone was remove and equipment began to be put away. “Have you made any further progress?”
Atherleigh hesitated and then sat back down in relief. “I’m glad we arrived when we did. Chamberlain and Curzon were at loggerheads. They’re both destined for high office, unfortunately they want the same ones.”
“Lord Crewe is confirmed then?”
“I’m afraid so, sir,” Atherleigh said. And that really was a damn shame, because Lord Curzon was the natural replacement and yet also suitable for various other cabinet positions and the Tory party leadership. “I’ve sent young Mr Hastings to fetch the Duke of Devonshire from the station.” He was an excellent chief whip and would be able to take over a lot of the strain from himself once he arrived. Whilst his name, his position and his rank commended respect, Atherleigh himself was not a sitting member of either the party or Parliament. So there had been an infuriating amount of toadying, patronising dismissal, and outright hostility amongst the members who had been in London tonight.
Thankfully, David had been remarkable in soothing tempers and serving as a distraction, offering drinks, asking for advice and information to ‘take to His Majesty’ and other such rot. Meanwhile Atherleigh himself had been doing battle between the various wings of the party as they slowly drip fed into the largest ballroom, consumed oceans of coffee and port, and tried to hash together some sort of Cabinet.
“The Liberals are rather more controlled…if only because the Earl Spencer has them in hand and they don’t really have much to argue over.” Yet. If any more Liberal MPs, Lords or heaven forbid, Asquith, was confirmed deceased however, the Liberal topflight would be wiped out beyond the Law Lords. The Tories had been ascendent in the past few years despite the Liberal majority. This latest disaster might well spell doom for the party of Gladstone.
“Has there been further word on…” David tailed off. Atherleigh’s face said everything. No further word from the heavily secured St Anne’s Royal, and no word at all from the Duke.
“I suppose I had best get back to it,” Atherleigh sighed and made to rise again. In truth, he was disappointed in his father’s contemporaries and the men after him losing their heads, even if it was understandable. He could have done with Kitchener coming with him, he mused, but in truth he was just glad both the War Minister and Jackie Fisher remained alive and well. They along with the Earl Roberts were some of the few foundations upon which new stability could be constructed.
He emerged back into the main chambers with an apologetic nod to the footman, whom had been enjoying a quiet evening a few hours before. Curzon and Chamberlain appeared to still be holding to the latest truce he had managed to negotiate, possibly because since then, they had united against the arrival of Andrew Bonar Law, who was the third contender for the empty throne left by Balfour. A sudden spasm in his arm led to a grimace he could not quite subdue, which was unfortunately the moment his sister came through, having been escorted by her husband Sir Frederick. Both naturally made a beeline for him, offering various words of sorrow and comfort.
It was her suggestion of a short rest for a medical that made him finally snap. “I am fine, madam.”
Elizabeth took his hissing with naught but slightly narrowed eyes, before letting her own vulnerability show for a moment. “If you fall ill, it all rests on Henry.”
Atherleigh closed his eyes as reality hit him. He was the last of the main male line. If anything happened to him, now, her young son would inherit and be thrown bodily into this madness. That could not be allowed to happen.
“Fine,” he allowed himself to be returned to the drawing room, now empty aside from the King, his personal private secretary, and a somewhat pleased looking David.
“Traitor.”
“I promised to help, and I am. Take your medicine, there’s a good fellow.”
Atherleigh sighed and submitted to what turned out to be a tutting from the doctor. “If you are about to proscribe rest, you can-”
“I will, reluctantly, provide you with a relief,” the old doctor interrupted, “which shall last for the remainder of tonight’s crisis. Upon the instant that it is resolved, you will to bed and rest for one day at least.”
Atherleigh suppressed the ungentlemanly urge to whine, snap or command. The Earl did not beg from a position of weakness.
“Enough,” he stormed back into the ballroom and gestured for attention. “Gentlemen, where are we in regards to the cabinet list?”
A paper was produced by Spencer, who seemed one of the few people remotely amused to have been interrupted in scheming.
“Quite sufficient, Your Majesty,” the BBC technician nodded.
“It had to be done,” Atherleigh sighed, making to stand up tiredly from sitting in on the broadcast. “That dratted Harmsworth ran an early release.”
“Yes…Viscount Northcliffe has always had his own views on the freedom of the Press and the national interest,” the King replied, nodding in thanks as the microphone was remove and equipment began to be put away. “Have you made any further progress?”
Atherleigh hesitated and then sat back down in relief. “I’m glad we arrived when we did. Chamberlain and Curzon were at loggerheads. They’re both destined for high office, unfortunately they want the same ones.”
“Lord Crewe is confirmed then?”
“I’m afraid so, sir,” Atherleigh said. And that really was a damn shame, because Lord Curzon was the natural replacement and yet also suitable for various other cabinet positions and the Tory party leadership. “I’ve sent young Mr Hastings to fetch the Duke of Devonshire from the station.” He was an excellent chief whip and would be able to take over a lot of the strain from himself once he arrived. Whilst his name, his position and his rank commended respect, Atherleigh himself was not a sitting member of either the party or Parliament. So there had been an infuriating amount of toadying, patronising dismissal, and outright hostility amongst the members who had been in London tonight.
Thankfully, David had been remarkable in soothing tempers and serving as a distraction, offering drinks, asking for advice and information to ‘take to His Majesty’ and other such rot. Meanwhile Atherleigh himself had been doing battle between the various wings of the party as they slowly drip fed into the largest ballroom, consumed oceans of coffee and port, and tried to hash together some sort of Cabinet.
“The Liberals are rather more controlled…if only because the Earl Spencer has them in hand and they don’t really have much to argue over.” Yet. If any more Liberal MPs, Lords or heaven forbid, Asquith, was confirmed deceased however, the Liberal topflight would be wiped out beyond the Law Lords. The Tories had been ascendent in the past few years despite the Liberal majority. This latest disaster might well spell doom for the party of Gladstone.
“Has there been further word on…” David tailed off. Atherleigh’s face said everything. No further word from the heavily secured St Anne’s Royal, and no word at all from the Duke.
“I suppose I had best get back to it,” Atherleigh sighed and made to rise again. In truth, he was disappointed in his father’s contemporaries and the men after him losing their heads, even if it was understandable. He could have done with Kitchener coming with him, he mused, but in truth he was just glad both the War Minister and Jackie Fisher remained alive and well. They along with the Earl Roberts were some of the few foundations upon which new stability could be constructed.
He emerged back into the main chambers with an apologetic nod to the footman, whom had been enjoying a quiet evening a few hours before. Curzon and Chamberlain appeared to still be holding to the latest truce he had managed to negotiate, possibly because since then, they had united against the arrival of Andrew Bonar Law, who was the third contender for the empty throne left by Balfour. A sudden spasm in his arm led to a grimace he could not quite subdue, which was unfortunately the moment his sister came through, having been escorted by her husband Sir Frederick. Both naturally made a beeline for him, offering various words of sorrow and comfort.
It was her suggestion of a short rest for a medical that made him finally snap. “I am fine, madam.”
Elizabeth took his hissing with naught but slightly narrowed eyes, before letting her own vulnerability show for a moment. “If you fall ill, it all rests on Henry.”
Atherleigh closed his eyes as reality hit him. He was the last of the main male line. If anything happened to him, now, her young son would inherit and be thrown bodily into this madness. That could not be allowed to happen.
“Fine,” he allowed himself to be returned to the drawing room, now empty aside from the King, his personal private secretary, and a somewhat pleased looking David.
“Traitor.”
“I promised to help, and I am. Take your medicine, there’s a good fellow.”
Atherleigh sighed and submitted to what turned out to be a tutting from the doctor. “If you are about to proscribe rest, you can-”
“I will, reluctantly, provide you with a relief,” the old doctor interrupted, “which shall last for the remainder of tonight’s crisis. Upon the instant that it is resolved, you will to bed and rest for one day at least.”
Atherleigh suppressed the ungentlemanly urge to whine, snap or command. The Earl did not beg from a position of weakness.
“Enough,” he stormed back into the ballroom and gestured for attention. “Gentlemen, where are we in regards to the cabinet list?”
A paper was produced by Spencer, who seemed one of the few people remotely amused to have been interrupted in scheming.
'The prior Cabinet of the United Kingdom:
- Prime Minister, First Lord of the Treasury – H. H. Asquith (L)
- Lord Chancelor – Viscount Haldane (L)
- Lord President of the Council – The Earl Curzon of Kedleston (T)
- Lord Privy Seal – The Earl of Crewe (L)
- Chancellor of the Exchequer – Reginald McKenna (L)
- Home Secretary – Arthur Balfour (T)
- Foreign Secretary – The Earl of Atherleigh (T)
- Secretary of State for the Colonies – Austen Chamberlain (T)
- Secretary of State for War – The Earl Kitchener (L)
- Secretary of State for India – The Earl of Crewe (L)
- First Lord of the Admiralty – Earl of Selborne (T)
- Chancellor of the Duchy of Lancaster – Marquess of Sailsbury (T)
- President for the Board of Trade – Viscount Buxton (L)
- Secretary for Scotland – Thomas McKinnon Wood (L)
- Secretary for Ireland – Augustine Birrell (L)
- President of the Local Government Board – Herbert Samuel (L)
- President of the Board of Education – Walther Runciman (L)
- Postmaster General – Charles Hobhouse (L)
- First Commissioner of Works – The Lord Emmott (L)
- Attorney General – Sir John Smith (L)'
All those in red had attended the celebrations in the City that evening, and all were thus indisposed, presumed…Atherleigh cut off that thought and switched to the suggested replacements. Chamberlain and Curzon were, amusingly, both down for Foreign and Home, apparently agreeing only that they should hold either or, and Bonar Law hold neither. Who would replace Lord Crewe and Mckenna was mostly a matter for the Liberals, though if the Tories could claw a place for Devonshire, they would.
The trouble both parties had was that both had lost leaders, and the Liberal second, tonight. The Tories had three pretenders to the leadership, and the only compromise candidate for the premiership everyone in the coalition would have acquiesce to without much of an issue was…
Atherleigh coughed and threw the paper down. “Your view, Lord Spencer?”
“We naturally wish to preserve the makeup of the current cabinet so far as possible. Perhaps some small adjustment once the leadership is settled, but minor. We naturally hold that positions that are unfortunately confirmed vacant should be retained by whichever party previously held the seat.”
Atherleigh nodded. That was reasonable. “Will you speak for the Liberals until such time a leader is decided?”
“I will. I will also say that, whilst you were indisposed, a missive arrived. Mr McKenna is awake and within his faculties. Whilst I do not know the minds of the entire party…” he did not need to finish. If the Chancellor yet lived, he was the natural leader, for the short term at the very least.
“His Majesty will be pleased to hear it,” David said quietly, breaking the tension somewhat, before any of the Tory contenders had chance to respond.
“Yes, well,” Curzon was about to begin, but was cut off by the arrival of Patrick Hastings, followed thereafter by the Duke of Devonshire and the Marquis of Salisbury.
“Thank ye God,” Atherleigh murmured, as he greeted them into his house and brought them up to speed. Salisbury stayed by him to talk as Devonshire flicked through the cabinet positions, snorted, and marched over to whip discipline into the ranks.
The clock struck eleven, startingly everyone.
“This is a bloody awful evening,” Chamberlain said as the next round of coffee came and went.
“Indeed,” Curzon looked down his nose. “Some of us have lost dear friends tonight.”
Atherleigh’s China cup met its unfortunate end, and the two men looked somewhat abashed. His dark humour did not lift even with the appearance half an hour later of Shell Minister Roberts, Churchill and Fisher, all done in by the day’s naval meeting which seemed several lifetimes ago. The harsh ticking of the grandfather clock and the murmuring of politic, and the dull beating pain behind his eyes were beginning to render the ballroom quite unliveable.
Things did not get better twenty minutes to midnight, when a grey faced messenger appeared with the official death toll from the hospital.
“It is with deepest regret that we inform you of the deaths of
The trouble both parties had was that both had lost leaders, and the Liberal second, tonight. The Tories had three pretenders to the leadership, and the only compromise candidate for the premiership everyone in the coalition would have acquiesce to without much of an issue was…
Atherleigh coughed and threw the paper down. “Your view, Lord Spencer?”
“We naturally wish to preserve the makeup of the current cabinet so far as possible. Perhaps some small adjustment once the leadership is settled, but minor. We naturally hold that positions that are unfortunately confirmed vacant should be retained by whichever party previously held the seat.”
Atherleigh nodded. That was reasonable. “Will you speak for the Liberals until such time a leader is decided?”
“I will. I will also say that, whilst you were indisposed, a missive arrived. Mr McKenna is awake and within his faculties. Whilst I do not know the minds of the entire party…” he did not need to finish. If the Chancellor yet lived, he was the natural leader, for the short term at the very least.
“His Majesty will be pleased to hear it,” David said quietly, breaking the tension somewhat, before any of the Tory contenders had chance to respond.
“Yes, well,” Curzon was about to begin, but was cut off by the arrival of Patrick Hastings, followed thereafter by the Duke of Devonshire and the Marquis of Salisbury.
“Thank ye God,” Atherleigh murmured, as he greeted them into his house and brought them up to speed. Salisbury stayed by him to talk as Devonshire flicked through the cabinet positions, snorted, and marched over to whip discipline into the ranks.
The clock struck eleven, startingly everyone.
“This is a bloody awful evening,” Chamberlain said as the next round of coffee came and went.
“Indeed,” Curzon looked down his nose. “Some of us have lost dear friends tonight.”
Atherleigh’s China cup met its unfortunate end, and the two men looked somewhat abashed. His dark humour did not lift even with the appearance half an hour later of Shell Minister Roberts, Churchill and Fisher, all done in by the day’s naval meeting which seemed several lifetimes ago. The harsh ticking of the grandfather clock and the murmuring of politic, and the dull beating pain behind his eyes were beginning to render the ballroom quite unliveable.
Things did not get better twenty minutes to midnight, when a grey faced messenger appeared with the official death toll from the hospital.
“It is with deepest regret that we inform you of the deaths of
- Herbert Henry Asquith, Prime Minister of the United Kingdom and Ireland
- Arthur James Balfour, Home Secretary
- The Earl Crewe, Robert Offley Ashburton Crewe-Milnes
- Viscount Haldane, Richard Burdon Haldane
- Viscount Buxton, Sydney Charles Buxton
Who died this day, the 5th January 1916, in the 6th Year of George V.”
Atherleigh wiped his face after glancing over the death notice, and nearly placed it aside before his heart seized up and a jolt threw his nerves afire. He carefully re-read the note.
His father was not on it.
The Earl of Atherleigh slipped and fell from his shoulders, and with a great shudder, Rodger Radcliffe wept into his hands.
Atherleigh wiped his face after glancing over the death notice, and nearly placed it aside before his heart seized up and a jolt threw his nerves afire. He carefully re-read the note.
His father was not on it.
The Earl of Atherleigh slipped and fell from his shoulders, and with a great shudder, Rodger Radcliffe wept into his hands.
…
6th January 1916
The King’s Radio Speech – 2am, London
Our most profound apologies for the lateness of the reply to you all. We pray you can understand that the whims of fate and the grace of God have been at play this day, and the previous dark night.
Our loyal subjects,
It is with relief...and all the earnest gratitude at my command, that we inform you all that the troubling events of the past twelve hours are at an end, and that though grievous damage has been done, and many men of great kindness, wisdom and character have laid down their lives this day, we in London have begun the recovery.
To begin...it is our solemn duty to inform you all of the death of our Prime Minister, the Right Honourable Herbert Henry Asquith…”
“…these deaths weigh upon our person and shall be mourned throughout this and many other lands, as a great loss to all humanity and every Britisher wherever he might be upon this Earth.
By the Grace of God and Our Lord Jesus Christ, whatsoever designs of catastrophe intended by such wicked actors as these that have this day wrought this criminal murder, have been defeated. For it is so that I have visited and spoken myself with both the Right Honourable Mr Reginald McKenna, lately Chancellor of the Exchequer and new Leader of the Liberal Party, and...you will forgive me to say...my dear friend Arthur William Radcliffe, the fourth Earl of Atherleigh.
Both men are, naturally, gravely shocked and injured by the attacks upon their person, and the deaths of their comrades, though nonetheless are unbowed and resolved to return to command and to govern in our name, as befits their remarkable strength and courage. At this time, my government is determined to remain in partnership, as we all stand shoulder to shoulder against the Central Powers.
We call upon our loyal and good subjects, across these isles and across this globe, to pray for their recovering health, for the strength of this government to continue, and for the swift and just application of British justice.
In closing, I must personally thank the people of London for their forbearance in this confusing hour, the police and medical persons for their skill and conduct, which was in the best traditions of their services, and to both Sir Arthur Robert Cecil Radcliffe, Admiral of our Navy, and the Prince of Wales, for their hospitality and good humour in the direst of circumstances.
May God bless you all and keep you safe.”
Our loyal subjects,
It is with relief...and all the earnest gratitude at my command, that we inform you all that the troubling events of the past twelve hours are at an end, and that though grievous damage has been done, and many men of great kindness, wisdom and character have laid down their lives this day, we in London have begun the recovery.
To begin...it is our solemn duty to inform you all of the death of our Prime Minister, the Right Honourable Herbert Henry Asquith…”
“…these deaths weigh upon our person and shall be mourned throughout this and many other lands, as a great loss to all humanity and every Britisher wherever he might be upon this Earth.
By the Grace of God and Our Lord Jesus Christ, whatsoever designs of catastrophe intended by such wicked actors as these that have this day wrought this criminal murder, have been defeated. For it is so that I have visited and spoken myself with both the Right Honourable Mr Reginald McKenna, lately Chancellor of the Exchequer and new Leader of the Liberal Party, and...you will forgive me to say...my dear friend Arthur William Radcliffe, the fourth Earl of Atherleigh.
Both men are, naturally, gravely shocked and injured by the attacks upon their person, and the deaths of their comrades, though nonetheless are unbowed and resolved to return to command and to govern in our name, as befits their remarkable strength and courage. At this time, my government is determined to remain in partnership, as we all stand shoulder to shoulder against the Central Powers.
We call upon our loyal and good subjects, across these isles and across this globe, to pray for their recovering health, for the strength of this government to continue, and for the swift and just application of British justice.
In closing, I must personally thank the people of London for their forbearance in this confusing hour, the police and medical persons for their skill and conduct, which was in the best traditions of their services, and to both Sir Arthur Robert Cecil Radcliffe, Admiral of our Navy, and the Prince of Wales, for their hospitality and good humour in the direst of circumstances.
May God bless you all and keep you safe.”
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Oof, that was a well written chapter! Definitely interested in seeing where the new ministers go!
Hmm. I was profoundly unhappy with this one and that's why the past two chapters have been so long in coming.
However, going through it again, the cabinet itself is mostly unchanged (TTL that is) with everyone who drank at the city dinner dying outright (coin toss - if you drink enough poison, it's game over) or dying/being saved in hospital (dice roll for death, seriousness of injury etc - if you survive long enough to get medical attention, your odds dramatically increase).
It was originally my intention for Atherleigh to straight up die, but history has a touch of the random hand of fate as well as deliberate action or inaction of humanity. So he lives for now, in some state.
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Good to see the return of the story in the last week or so, now all caught up again. As the dust clears, it will be interesting to see who is actually implicated and who the massacre is blamed upon. Neither (if they are different actors) will be shown any mercy, doubtless. Radcliffe was ‘lucky’ to have the influence he was conceded at the peak of the crisis: despite the family and royal connections, it’s a little surprising the large cast of imperious and self-important scions of the establishment. More than one may well have told him to “sod off, young pup, and leave this to the adults”.
Elsewhere, will the war just go on largely regardless? Or was this part of a more deliberate and widespread plot, or even revolutionary attempt?
Elsewhere, will the war just go on largely regardless? Or was this part of a more deliberate and widespread plot, or even revolutionary attempt?
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