Provocation
In January of 1888, the House of Hohenzollern was not permitted to linger long in the joy of Princess Sophie's wedding.
"I fear His Majesty is unlikely to see the spring."
As Kaiser Wilhelm I's health collapsed with startling speed, Berlin was forced to accept that it must prepare for the accession of a new Kaiser.
The courts of Europe watched with equal intensity, studying the new captain who would take the helm of the great German vessel.
"The old, seasoned monarch is gone, and now some young stripling will lead Germany. What's to stop the boy from trusting in German power and smashing the old rules to pieces as he pleases?"
"Who can say? Bismarck is still very much alive."
"Let us put our faith in Bismarck, then. That old man, at least, should have no trouble keeping a greenhorn of an emperor in check."
"You judge the young too harshly. Perhaps his vitality will carry Europe in a better direction."
Across the continent the response was a mixture of expectation and unease. The German people, by contrast, greeted the prospect with fierce anticipation.
"The Crown Prince understands the value of German tradition. He holds conservative principles dear. He is a man who can steer Germany in the proper direction."
"Once a young, vigorous sovereign takes the throne, Germany will no longer hesitate to raise its voice."
"That old man does nothing but hesitate whenever anything arises, and he has a talent for stabbing his allies and his own people in the back. The young Crown Prince will do far better."
Amid these mixed reactions at home and abroad, Kaiser Wilhelm I departed this world on the sixteenth of January — nearly two months earlier than he had in the original history.
The Kaiser's funeral was conducted as a solemn state occasion. Given the towering stature of Wilhelm I's rank and person, the foreign delegations that arrived to pay their respects were of correspondingly exalted rank.
Belgium, Saxony, and Romania sent their kings in person. Bavaria was represented by Prince Luitpold, the regent who held the true reins of power. Among the great powers, Britain, Italy, Russia, and Austria each dispatched a crown prince or imperial heir. The middle-ranking kingdoms of Sweden-Norway, Greece, and Denmark likewise sent their crown princes. Even the French Republic, still hostile to Germany, dispatched a high-ranking special envoy of condolence.
With so extraordinary a gathering of personages — the likes of which had scarcely been seen in recent years — Germany poured every resource into receiving the mourning delegations. Not only Wilhelm II, the heir to the throne, and Chancellor Bismarck, together with the highest ministers of state, but every member of the imperial family was pressed into ceremonial service.
Waldemar was no exception. As one of the few male princes of the direct line, he was charged with entertaining the most distinguished royal visitors, the Tsarevich of Russia among them.
After exchanging greetings with Wilhelm II, Nicholas met with Waldemar.
Facing the rival of his original life in the flesh, Waldemar found himself overtaken by a peculiar impression. Nicholas was a more handsome man than he had expected. Though he stood only five foot six, he had inherited the blue eyes, brown hair, and fine features of Princess Dagmar of Denmark — a woman famed for her beauty — and the effect was immediately agreeable.
It really was the sort of face Alix would have found appealing.
Of course, that was only in a world where he himself had never existed. Alix had long since settled on Waldemar as her ideal.
Waldemar approached and offered his greeting.
"Joachim Friedrich Ernst Waldemar of Prussia presents his respects to His Imperial Highness the Tsarevich of Russia."
"Ah. So you are Prince Waldemar."
Nicholas's voice carried a mixture of surprise and envy in equal measure.
"I have heard your name often enough. You are the gentleman betrothed to my cousin Alix, are you not?"
"I am, Your Highness."
Privately the two men were related through Edward VII, but they were not nearly close enough to treat each other as kin. They kept a careful distance even as they spoke. Waldemar received Nicholas throughout with an easy, unhurried composure — until he caught sight of Alix approaching and called her over.
"Alix, this is His Imperial Highness the Tsarevich Nicholas. Do greet him properly. Your Highness, allow me to present my fiancée, Alix Victoria Helene Luise Beatrix of Hesse."
The word Nicholas heard Waldemar use to introduce her left a strange, sour taste in his mouth.
Fiancée.
The expression grated on him more than he could say. Perhaps it was nothing more than jealousy toward the rival who had claimed the first love he himself had never possessed. He forced the rising displeasure back down and received his beautiful Hessian cousin with every courtesy.
The little girl he had once seen in Russia had grown, in the intervening years, into a young woman lovely enough to set his heart stirring — lovelier than any of the substitutes he had gathered into his arms. Standing before that brilliant flower, Nicholas regretted the choice that had kept him from approaching her before she was engaged.
He pressed his lips together hard, swallowed the feeling, and offered his Hessian cousin the respect she was owed.
"Cousin Alix. It has been some years since we last met in Saint Petersburg. You have grown truly beautiful."
"And Your Highness has become a most dependable and handsome gentleman."
Alix answered the compliment with a gentle smile. The sweetness of that smile sent a fresh wave of burning jealousy through Nicholas. But there was nothing he could do. His beautiful cousin was the fiancée of a Prussian prince.
When the two of them had finished their greetings, Waldemar spoke.
"Your Highness, allow me to show you to the waiting room."
Nicholas could not refuse. Waldemar led him there.
The spacious chamber already held several heirs of other royal houses who had arrived before them. Among them was Prince George, Nicholas's cousin on his mother's side.
"George."
"Nicky."
The two men embraced lightly, a simple show of affection. Once he had finished greeting Nicholas, George looked at Waldemar.
"Waldi, you brought Nicky over?"
"Of course. You can't leave His Imperial Highness the Tsarevich of Russia to just anyone."
George laughed at Waldemar's banter. Nicholas took the chair the other princes made room for, then looked at Alix standing close beside Waldemar and wondered.
Why had she chosen Waldemar — a mere prince — instead of him, the heir to the Russian Empire? Had she accepted a proposal from him, she would have been his fiancée, not Waldemar's.
He wanted to ask his beautiful Hessian cousin for the reason. He knew well enough that he must not. To put such a question to another man's betrothed would have been an extraordinary breach of manners. Nicholas forced the tangle of feeling back down.
Waldemar could not read the complexity of what passed behind Nicholas's eyes, but he had no trouble seeing that the Tsarevich was in a foul mood.
Not that it was any of his concern.
From the moment he had taken Alix without the slightest mercy, Waldemar had never once offered Nicholas a scrap of pity.
He provided the princes with a simple supper and saw to it that they could rest. The eve of the funeral passed without incident.
The day of the funeral itself was so tightly scheduled that Nicholas and Waldemar scarcely had a chance to speak. Nicholas decided that was just as well. Watching Waldemar and Alix together would only have unsettled him further.
While the rites proceeded with grave ceremony in Berlin Cathedral, every soul present kept their attention fixed upon the service. Waldemar stood beside Alix and paid his respects to the Kaiser's coffin, draped in the imperial colors of black, white, and red. Through the prayers, the hymns, the reading of scripture, the sermon, and the eulogy, no one left their appointed seat. The long funeral liturgy did not end until nearly half the day had gone.
As the congregation filed out of the cathedral to join the cortege, Nicholas caught sight of Waldemar and Alix. She had pressed a black veil down over her mourning dress and taken Waldemar's arm. The picture of it grated on him more than he could bear. He made a point of not seeing them.
It was the Prussian royal family, unfortunately, that walked at the head of the procession, immediately behind the coffin. As Waldemar passed him, Nicholas's brow tightened for a moment. Mercifully, Alix processed separately, riding in a carriage with the other women of the imperial house.
The funeral cortege reached the mausoleum at Charlottenburg beneath the splendid honors prepared by the German army and the farewell of the city's people. The interment at the mausoleum followed its own exacting rites, though the atmosphere was less severe than it had been in the cathedral. When the final service was concluded, the coffin was carried into the vault where the sovereigns and consorts of earlier generations already lay.
Outside the mausoleum, artillery salutes, military bands, and rifle volleys sounded the Kaiser's departure, and bells tolled across the whole of Berlin. With that last display of the Empire's regard, the age of Wilhelm I came officially to its close.
It was there that the new Kaiser, Wilhelm II, received the condolences of the foreign representatives. Waldemar watched the scene, then led Alix outside to wait for their carriage.
They were in the middle of a pleasant conversation when Nicholas, having just finished offering his own respects, came out to take his returning coach and found himself face to face with them. He nearly walked on to the carriage — then, thinking this might be his last chance to see Alix, he slowed his steps.
"Your Highness."
"Prince Waldemar. Cousin Alix."
Nicholas offered a brief courtesy and looked at the small, pale face of his Hessian cousin. Every time he met her, she wore some new aspect that set his heart stirring.
"Yes, Your Highness."
"I return to Russia now. I pray you will keep in good health."
"And I shall pray that Your Highness has a peaceful journey."
Alix's sweet reply left a bitter taste in Nicholas's mouth.
"Then I take my leave."
Nicholas climbed into the returning coach with his attendants. Watching the Tsarevich of Russia depart in such loneliness, Waldemar spoke to Alix.
"Alix, do you know how it feels to take something someone else desperately wanted?"
"How would I know a feeling as wicked as that?"
It was a feeling Alix had no wish even to imagine.
"It feels like winning."
Waldemar smiled.
"That's truly awful of you."
He did not disagree.
"Yes. It is awful."
Holding the hand of an Alix who understood none of it, Waldemar saw Nicholas on his way.