May pushed her chair away from her desk and rose unsteadily to her feet.

George said, ‘I must order a week’s court mourning and send a telegram to the Emperor immediately.’

May nodded agreement. ‘And it would be a caring gesture if you were to make a condolence visit to Ambassador von Mensdorff at the Austrian Embassy.’

‘I’m not sure about that, May. Doing so would be a breach of protocol.’

‘Which is why it would mean so much. Von Mensdorff is a cousin of a kind, because his grandfather was married to one of Granny Queen’s aunts. I think such an action on your part would be much appreciated by him.’

Trusting her judgement, George had done as she suggested and Ambassador von Mensdorff had been deeply touched by the gesture, as May had known he would be.

For nearly a month the usual trouble in the Balkans caused more tension than normal, but nothing too dreadful happened.

Willy was happy with the blank cheque of support that he had given Emperor Franz Josef, the day news of the assassinations had broken. In the following weeks he did a good deal of strutting about in military uniform, wearing a ferocious-looking spiked pickelhaube helmet and spouting inflammatory phrases such as ‘Serbia must pay for this cowardly, detestable crime!’ as he sabre-rattled to his heart’s content. For he was safe in his belief that Austria–Hungary could give the Serbs a short, sharp shock without risking Serbia’s friend, Russia, coming to her defence, for how could Russia do so?

‘Russia isn’t braced for war,’ he said confidently, standing with his legs apart and twirling his moustaches, ‘and Cousin Nicky hasn’t the balls for one.’

He was right in thinking that war with Austria–Hungary – or with any other country – was the last thing on Nicky’s mind. The attack on Rasputin had been so life-threatening that he was still hovering between life and death, which was of very great concern to Alicky.

Nicky’s mother, whose one fervent hope was that Rasputin would shuffle off to hell and never be seen again, announced that she was giving a ball at the Anitchkov Palace.

‘And I’m doing so for the enjoyment of Olga and Tatiana,’ she said waspishly to Nicky. ‘At their ages, they should be attending balls several times a week, not only once in a blue moon. And if Alicky is too sick, too tired, too bored, too busy saying prayers for that fiend Rasputin to attend the ball with them, tell her I quite understand.’