King or Pawn?

Hugh Robertson

Description

Did the world's most famous playboy prince become a king and then a traitor?King or Pawn? - Volume One of the dramatic saga The Fools' Crowns - weaves fact and fiction as dramatic events unfold. King Edward VIII is forced to face a terrible choice - his throne or his love. The King, the Royal family, courtiers, politicians, diplomats, friends, enemies and spies all play a part in a drama that rocks a nation and an empire.From Buckingham Palace in London to the Chancellory in Berlin; from the King's retreat in Windsor Great Park, Fort Belvedere, to Hitler's mountain lair at Berchtesgarden, the intrigue unfolds. Was the King no more than an immature and naive hedonist whose self-obsessed adolescent nature was swayed by flattery? Or, ominously, did he see his future with Wallis Simpson, his wife and queen, and he the monarch of the kingdom of a united Great Britain and Germany, created and ruled by Adolf Hitler's Third Reich?Was the King manipulated into abdicating because he and his lover were a threat to the very country of which he was monarch? Was he a traitor or a mere pawn in the great game that was leading Europe and the world to war?

Informations

• Publié par: eBook Versions
• Date de parution: 09 mai 2014
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781843962953
• Langue: English

Extrait

Published by Alresford Publishing

Copyright 2014 Hugh Robertson
All rights reserved

Hugh Robertson has asserted his right
under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988
to be identified as the author of this work.

This work is registered with the
UK Copyright Service - Registration No. 284677965

ISBN-13 978-1-84396-295-3

Also available in paperback
ISBN-13 978-149603-129-7

A CIP catalogue record for this
work is available from the British Library.

eBook production
www.ebookversions.com

Edited by Kelia Revitt
[e-mail]

Cover by coversbykaren.com

This is a work of fiction. Names,
characters, businesses, places, events and
incidents are either the product of the
author’s imagination or used in a fictitious
manner. Any resemblance to actual living
persons is purely coincidental. It is acknowledged
that there is a historical basis for this novel
and the events it portrays or refers to, but
it does not purport accurately to represent such
or the persons involved in such.

This book is sold subject to the condition
that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be
lent, resold, hired out, or otherwise circulated
without the author s prior consent in any
form other than that in which it is published
electronically or otherwise and without a similar
condition being imposed on any subsequent purchaser.
To my patient family
THE FOOLS' CROWNS

Volume One


KING
OR PAWN?


Hugh Robertson



ALRESFORD PUBLISHING
Contents


Cover
Copyright Credits
Dedication

Title Page
Epigraph
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Chapter Thirty-Five
Chapter Thirty-Six
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Chapter Forty
Chapter Forty-One
Chapter Forty-Two
Chapter Forty-Three
Chapter Forty-Four
Chapter Forty-Five
Chapter Forty-Six
Chapter Forty-Seven
Chapter Forty-Eight
Chapter Forty-Nine
Chapter Fifty
Chapter Fifty-One
Chapter Fifty-Two
Chapter Fifty-Three
Chapter Fifty-Four
Chapter Fifty-Five
Chapter Fifty-Six
Chapter Fifty-Seven
Chapter Fifty-Eight
Chapter Fifty-Nine
Chapter Sixty
Chapter Sixty-One
Chapter Sixty-Two
Chapter Sixty-Three
Chapter Sixty-Four
Chapter Sixty-Five
Chapter Sixty-Six
Postscript
After the game,
the King and the Pawn go
into the same box.

Italian proverb
Prologue

Part 1


She failed to stifle a scream as her eyes flew wide open in horror.
There were pools and streaks of blood on the wide pavement as uniformed men with swastika armbands hauled lifeless bodies towards an open backed truck.
The limp bodies were those of the old, the young, men, women and even children.
The uniformed men were laughing.
Elegantly dressed striking blonde English aristocrat Lady Celia Ffrench-Hardy fell back against the soft leather of her seat in the back of the open Mercedes staff car. It was taking her with her friend, the Honourable Unity Mitford, to experience the triumphant arrival of Adolf Hitler in Nuremburg.
The young women were official guests of the Reich They were invited to witness the spectacle of the reborn Germany s strength, and the demonstration of its people s adoration for their F hrer and his government at the Nuremburg Rally.
Time had stood still for Celia as if she witnessed the horror in a frozen time frame. In reality, the large black car with its fluttering swastika pennant and motorcycle escort had passed by in a matter of seconds.
Young SS Colonel Count von Craffen, who was their escort for the day, heard her scream, turned and, leaning over the back of his seat in the front of the car, made a deprecating gesture, almost a shrug of apology, as he said:
Dear ladies - please do not allow this necessary unpleasantness to spoil your enjoyment of this beautiful day. Nothing must be permitted to do so.
As must nobody, thought Celia wryly.
She had heard of the Jews and gypsies being swept out of Berlin into camps at the time of the Summer Olympiad which she and Unity had also attended as official guests of the Reich. Presumably it was happening here.
She gave an involuntary shudder as Unity broke her silence and with a smile of encouragement, said, Oh come on Celia, old thing - you know that Uncle Adolf is doing a wonderful job of cleaning up Germany.

Part 2


A few days later, as the setting sun gilded the towers of Nuremburg, there was absolute silence.
Over 90,000 Nazi Party faithful and 25,000 standard-bearers waited for the signal to march.
Upon a single barked command, massed bands and a mighty corps of drums burst into life.
Then, as one, the cry Heil Hitler was bellowed by all - their arms snapping into the now-familiar stiff-armed Nazi salute.
The great parade started to march in wide columns to the Duzendteich Stadium. They were swinging along to the stirring martial music with heads held as high as proud, conquering heroes.
The columns marched into the stadium and formed up without orders as darkness was quickly falling. The music stopped as the last of the marchers joined the thousands already in serried ranks. The standard-bearers did not enter the arena.
Again, there was total eerie silence. The presence of the great gathering could be felt but now neither seen nor heard.
Just before 7.30pm a single searchlight beam flashed out and illuminated 200 giant banners, each bearing the swastika. The black, scarlet and white of the banners was in dramatic stark relief bathed in the powerful beam.
There was a massive sigh from the crowd which turned to an excited cheer, as more spotlights illuminated a gleaming white marble platform in the centre of the throng. It was almost beautiful in contrast to the dark mass of people.
The size of the massed parade was now revealed. The thousands of the faithful seemed to stretch into infinity.
Then the spotlights on the Southern side were switched off. It was from here that their beloved F hrer would enter the stadium.
The parade stood in silence. Then, cheering could be heard from outside the stadium. The arrival of the F hrer was announced over the loudspeakers.
At that moment 130 blue-tinted anti-aircraft search lights were turned on, creating the effect of a mighty vaulted roof over the gathering - it was later to be described as The Cathedral of Ice.
As their F hrer strode past the columns of his faithful followers their emotions rose to fever pitch. The F hrer was now on the massive marble platform. He raised his arm acknowledging the cries of Heil Hitler repeatedly ringing from over 180,000 throats. His gaze swept the vast auditorium.
He leant into the bank of microphones and cried out, Flags forward. . .March!
The bands struck up and the columns of the 25,000 standard-bearers entered the arena from all sides. Spotlights focused on the leading flags. Those following were like rivers of glinting gold as the beams glittered on the gilded tips of the flagstaffs.
Again, sudden silence as the last standard bearers took their positions.
A trumpet fanfare shattered the night, and after the formal taking of the patriotic oath, Adolf Hitler stepped forward to the microphones. After a long theatrical pause he began to speak.
As his speech became more and more impassioned, his voice rose until, with a dramatic crescendo, he stopped. There was a moment s total silence then he shrieked:
Ein Volk - Ein Reich - Ein F hrer!
The brilliantly designed piece de theatre , the brainchild of Albert Speer, Hitler s architect, and Dr Goebbels, the Minister of Propaganda, had worked its magic. Emotion, wonder and euphoria surged through the mass of people.
As they cried Sieg Heil again and again tears could be seen running freely and glistening in the lights.
Lady Celia Ffrench-Hardy was mesmerised as she tried to absorb the multi-faceted drama from her position as a privileged guest seated with the Honourable Unity Mitford amongst the elite of the Nazi party.
Sensing her mood, Herr von Ribbentrop, the former champagne salesman, now German Ambassador to London, leant close to her and gripped her knee.
Better than sex do you think? he asked with a smile, sensing her impassioned mood.
Nearly, she coyly responded, knowing that with a little luck Bubbles, her pet name for von Ribbentrop, would later be in bed with her satisfying the aching wetness in her groin.
For his part, she was not only an exceptionally pretty young woman with a gorgeous figure and the longest legs he had ever seen. There was an added bonus - she behaved like an alley cat in bed. He was a skilled and thoroughly promiscuous lover. None of these were the reason why he had pursued, befriended and bedded her.
She was here now in the group of elite Nazis because she was a confidante of the British King Emperor, Edward VIII, and his American lover Mrs Wallis Simpson.

Nuremburg, September 1936.

Part 3


It was a foggy morning in April 1945 in the American controlled zone of the defeated Germany.
With a grinding of gears a British Army one ton truck, accompanied by two jeeps with heavily armed British soldiers, arrived on the gravel sweep in front of Castle Friedrichshof, the palace built by Queen Victoria s daughter Vicky.
She had built the castle in memory of her late husband the Crown Prince of Prussia, who was only briefly to be Emperor. That the palace resembled Sandrin