The Kaiser’s Last Kiss. Alan Judd

between the aisles, touching the uniforms and commenting on them as if everyone shared his passion. He was careful to keep his cigar ash away. The girl followed with the medal on its purple cushion. Krebbs caught her eye once more, again without obvious response, while the Kaiser enumerated the vanished Austro-Hungarian regiments of which he had been honorary colonel.

      ‘They were the best at uniforms, Franz-Joseph and his people. They would be still, there would still be an Austrian Empire if only they had taken my advice.’ He stopped, so that they all stood close together. He exhaled smoke in the girl’s face while addressing Krebbs. ‘Well, at first it was the old man’s – Bismarck’s – advice. “Run your empire from Hungary,” he told them. “Get into the middle of it. Vienna is too small, too remote.” I told them so myself, many times. I told Archduke Ferdinand before he was murdered. That was the incident which started the last war, you see, before we expected it. We were dragged into it by Austrian incompetence. If the Archduke had heeded me he would not have been killed.’ He laughed and puffed again on his cigar. There were tears of mirth in his eyes. ‘You know, Ferdinand, he was so fat, they had to sew him into his uniform. This is why, when he was shot, they could not unbutton him. It was his own fault. I always said to him, I said, “You should be grateful you are not English. They would call you Fatty Ferdie there.” He did not like that. Every time I said it, no matter how often, he did not like it.’ He laughed again and walked on.

      Krebbs waved the smoke from the girl’s face with an exaggerated sweep of his arm and a mock bow. This time she smiled.

      ‘And here,’ continued the Kaiser, stopping at the top of the next row and tapping another uniform shoulder, ‘is my colonelcy of the Imperial Russian Guard, awarded me by the hand of my cousin, the Tsar himself. God rest his soul. What happened to him and his family was terrible, you know. Terrible.’ His face was earnest now, almost urgent. ‘They butchered them, those Bolsheviks butchered them, the children too, every last one. These are the people who are now your Herr Hitler’s closest allies. Out of spite, they did it. Malice. Spite.’ He clenched his fist, flattening his cigar between his fingers. ‘That is why England must be destroyed. A word from England at that time would have been enough to prevent it. Only amid the ruins of London will I forgive my cousin Georgie, their king. He is the dog who did not bark, when he alone could have. I could do nothing. I had to flee in case my own family suffered the same at the hands of the German Bolsheviks.’