Free Gossip from the Forest by Thomas Keneally

Where are we going?
    Groener: To my offices on the first floor. I’ve prepared some memoranda you might find useful.…
    The elevator orderly had swept the grille back for them and stood aside numb-faced. Erzberger balked. It was terror and he sweated. He wouldn’t go upstairs without Maiberling.
    Groener: I’m sorry. I do haul people about too much. Even civilians, free men.
    But he had in fact sniffed Matthias’s fear.
    Groener: I can’t guarantee anything. All but one of those regimental officers, all but one , say their men want one thing. The end. One … only one … is sure we ought to battle on. But then he’s a great-grandson of Clausewitz or someone.
    His small pink hand went on cajoling Erzberger’s left upper arm.
    Groener: Who knows what that one out of thirty might do later? To you. To me.
    Erzberger felt himself reddening. An exposed coward.
    Oh, Dr. Thyssen and all the great executives of the Disconto Gesellschaft! Who took me to your tables (board and dinner) and taught me about chablis and silverware. Where have you vanished to? This is your darling guest who has become a target in a military hotel.
    Erzberger: I understand. I want to fetch Maiberling.
    Groener: Of course.
    Erzberger: I want the cars got ready as soon as possible.
    Groener: Naturally.
    Groener detached himself from Matthias’s sleeve and stepped into the elevator. The grille closed between them. But the elevator did not immediately start.
    Groener: Matthias.
    Erzberger: Yes?
    Groener: You have my respect.
    Erzberger: All right.
    Seeming to understand what Erzberger thought— you respect me today because that serves OHL’s purpose—the general pouted and was borne away upward.

TO THE TOILETS
    Erzberger asked the subaltern at the desk where the lavatories were. Downstairs and to the right, sir.
    There was only one locked water closet and some groaning within it.
    Erzberger: Alfred?
    Maiberling: My ulcer. Too many quick schnapps. But what is a man to do? Journey sober?
    Erzberger: Groener is here. Hindenburg.
    Maiberling made a contemptuous noise and all the water closets seethed for a second.
    Erzberger: The Kaiser will go. That’s settled, Groener says.
    Maiberling: Oh.
    Erzberger: Can I get you something binding?
    Maiberling: No. Don’t rush me.
    Erzberger: That wasn’t my purpose.
    Maiberling opened the door and clung to the white marble door jamb.
    Maiberling: Poor Willi. He was all right. He liked pornography you know. Like most respectable men. I knew his supplier out in Charlottenburg. He said Willi’s tastes were restrained—boots and a little flagellation and a leaning to Negresses, but nothing very unseemly. He said the nation could be proud of Willi’s tastes.
    Erzberger laughed.
    Erzberger: I think you make these things up, Alfred.
    The count’s jaw hung open and, in pain, he mouthed the edge of the door; showing many gold fillings.
    Maiberling: They killed Inga.
    Erzberger: Inga?
    Maiberling barked at him.
    Maiberling: You met her once.
    Erzberger: The … short lady?
    Maiberling: Plump. She was plump. Igna.
    Long ago, in the peace, Matthias had been dining at Restaurant Krziwanek. With gossipers and politicians. What non-crisis had everyone been breathless about that night? The head waiter brought a card—Maiberling’s. The count was dining in a private room and would like Herr Erzberger to come visiting for a drink. Matthias thought, will I go? I don’t want some tart flung at me. Temptations of the flesh always put him in a fluster, made him wonder was all the politicking worthwhile.
    When he went, he found Maiberling and a fat little woman with a happy pink face. Inga. An adulteress but no tart.
    Erzberger could remember thinking in some envy, they’re beside themselves. The room quivered with their self-congratulations. They expected Erzberger to add his own best wishes. Erzberger can be trusted, the count had said.
    Inga was