Szent-Gyorgyi’s reasons for exclusion, starting from the outer rings, were quite clear. Ruled completely out were the bad shots; these were utterly unacceptable. Next were the bad-mannered, people who were known to be querulous or irritable or bad-tempered if they missed a shot: they were not to be thought of either. These were followed by anyone with decided political opinions, for Szent-Gyorgyi loathed politics — and politicians — and though such subjects were by no means banned in his presence, and indeed he would from time to time speak of such matters himself, they had to be discussed dispassionately as if the speaker were infinitely distanced from his subject. The fourth criterion was birth and here Count Antal had his own special individual standpoint. With a rich knowledge of history and genealogies, he was capable, if he thought their ancestry ignoble or unworthy, of placing ruling princes and families closely connected to royalty, in a lower category than some simple country nobleman whose ancestors had been ‘nice people’ since time immemorial. For Count Antal, anyone who was able to trace his descent from the days of the Arpad kings, especially if they had earned no black marks by unfortunate behaviour in the ensuing centuries, took precedence over all others, provided always that they fulfilled his other requirements. A fifth category, which was totally excluded, was composed of anyone of Czech origin no matter what rank he might hold. Whether it was because in the fifteenth century the lands of the Szent-Gyorgyi and Bazini families had been overrun by the army of Giskra, or because he believed that anyone even remotely connected with the ever growing pan-Slav movement had to be pro-Russian and was therefore automatically the enemy of the Habsburg monarchy, was not clear: but all Czechs were automatically banned from Jablanka. For the sixth group, which was composed of anyone who had had any kind of connection with the Heir, the Archduke Franz-Ferdinand, he had more personal reasons for antagonism. As hereditary Master of the Horse to the King of Hungary, Szent-Gyorgyi gave his entire loyalty to the old Emperor and he classed all those who grouped themselves around the person of the Heir (and who were clearly only waiting for the demise of the old monarch to be shown in their true colours) as greedy, unacceptable opportunists. The seventh category, those who were eligible for invitations, therefore had to pass unscathed the severe requirements of the first six.
This year, however, there were some surprises as there had been included two guests who would never normally have qualified at all.
The first was Fredi Wuelffenstein, who was not important but who was well-known to be a party man, ferociously partisan, loud-mouthed, outspoken, argumentative and always knowing better than anyone else. It was hoped that here at Jablanka he would be sufficiently in control of himself to keep quiet, especially as he owed his invitation solely to the influence of his sister, Fanny Beredy, the only female guest who was not herself a relation of the host or hostess.
More important than Fredi was Count Jan Slawata, whose presence was indeed astonishing for according to the rules he should have foundered on all counts; firstly at the outermost circle because he was such a bad shot, secondly because he was a politician, thirdly because one of his ancestors, in 1618, who had never drawn his sword to defend himself, was flung out of a window in the fortress of Hradčany in Prague and, instead of being killed honourably on the flagstones below, landed on a dung-heap and lived (thereby falling inevitably into the category of ‘unacceptable behaviour’), fourthly because he was a self-declared Czech nationalist which he proclaimed by signing his name ‘Jan’ instead of ‘Johann’; and finally because it was well-known that he belonged to the group who clustered round Franz-Ferdinand in the Belvedere Palace and indeed was rumoured to be the Heir’s confidential adviser on foreign affairs. And yet he had been admitted to Eden, to that Paradise of sportsmen, a shooting party at Jablanka.
It was such an amazing thing that even such a self-assured man as Antal Szent-Gyorgyi felt impelled to offer some explanation to the other guests — Balint, Imre Warday and even to his nephew, young Louis Kollonich — as to why Slawata had been invited.
Szent-Gyorgyi had ordered a pedigree pointer puppy from Germany. The dog had been sent in a specially constructed cage by the Orient Express but at the frontier post at Passau the customs officers found some reason to object to the animal’s importation into Austria and wished to take it off the train until some obscure difficulty as to its legal status could be cleared up. As it happened Slawata was on the same train, learned what was causing the delay, and used his diplomatic position not only to keep the dog on the train but also to free it from its prison cage and take it into his own private compartment (though it wasn’t yet house-trained). Such a personal service had to be properly rewarded.
It was one of Antal Szent-Gyorgyi’s guiding principles that he would never accept a favour, except from a close personal friend, without returning it in full measure. And if the donor was a stranger, or someone socially inferior, then the recompense must be all the more generous lest there be the slightest suspicion that Count Antal remained in their debt. Since it was not possible to offer Slawata a tip he had been invited to the shoot. Szent-Gyorgyi would far rather have paid out any amount of mere money!
However, having once decided to do it, it was done in style. Slawata was treated as the guest of honour and given the best position, at one of the ends of the line, for it was one of the peculiarities of hares that they would run along the line of the beaters, out of range of the guns until they reached the end of the line where they would come straight towards the last gun. This place was therefore the most sought-after for here there was always more game to shoot. Slawata was known to be a weak shot and so young Louis Kollonich, who was very good indeed, had been posted next to him as Eckhalter — or corner guard — with strict instructions to ‘help’ the guest of honour by shooting first at anything that came that way.
‘Don’t let anything past!’ called the host to his nephew as he passed by in his carriage and winked at him from an otherwise expressionless face. Then he drove on past his son Toni to his place at Number Four. Countess Beredy, who had been sitting beside him in the carriage, started to get down when he did but Count Antal, speaking in English, called back to her, ‘No! No! You go on!’ and gestured to the coachman to continue. Fanny smiled back indulgently. Many months after Laszlo Gyeroffy had left her she had started an affair with Antal Szent-Gyorgyi. For Fanny this was an innovation since hitherto her lovers had all been young men. However, after the shock of her desertion by Laszlo, who was the only one she had truly loved, she did not feel like starting a new relationship with anyone else young and unreliable. The few words that Laszlo had sent her — ‘Thank you for everything …’ — just that, scribbled on the back of a visiting card — still made her heart contract with pain each time she thought of them; and it was for this reason that she had finally responded to the silent courtship of this man of fifty. Szent-Gyorgyi was tall and elegant, like a well-bred greyhound, a man of the world who would hold no surprises for her. She needed someone in her life — for she and her husband had led separate lives for a long time — and she had been almost a year without anyone when she decided to accept Szent-Gyorgyi as her lover. It was a calm relationship which brought both of them solace and joy with none of the pangs and complications of a passion. Count Antal was a careful man, for he still lived in friendly companionship with his ageing wife Elise; and for both of them caution was necessary, not the least for Fanny since she knew only too well that ‘my lord Beredy’ — as she ironically called him whenever she happened to think of him — would be only too happy to throw her out and divorce her if she gave him the opportunity. He had made this perfectly clear to her many years before, and ever since she had been very, very careful. Only with Laszlo had she taken any risks, but then she had been a little light-hearted …