With the confidence of one who had dealt with such situations every day of his life, Dieter had elected himself leader.
'Leave everything to me, sir. I will make all the arrangements,' he said and gathering Faro's passport and papers, he went off to confirm their booking.
Dieter returned and said: ‘I have booked a single cabin. It is best that we remain together. In the interests of safety, you understand. A wise move, I think.'
Wise maybe, but alarming in its implications.
And, at this reminder, looks were exchanged by the two boys, their laughter and excitement giving way to uneasy glances which Faro understood, even while deploring the necessity of that single cabin. If, indeed, they were being followed, it would be very easy to isolate the two boys from the group and staying together offered extra security, with Dieter and himself both armed and ready to deal with any emergency. But the thought of being closeted in a room of ten feet by eight with the constant smell of engine oil and the threat of seasickness remained distinctly unpleasant.
Faro looked at George. The boy was as much a stranger to him as the others and he longed for time to discover more about him. For once, Fate was on his side and the Channel ferry crossing provided that opportunity.
From the outset it promised to be a bad crossing with a heavy swell. Almost immediately after the ferry took to the open sea of the English Channel the faces of Dieter, Helga and Anton took on a pale shade of green. Islander Faro, an excellent sailor in all weathers, advised them to retire to the cabin and 'get their heads down'. They could hardly argue but Dieter, with a handkerchief stuffed to his mouth, looked anxiously at George.
'You should come with us, Highness.'
'No,' said George bracing his thin shoulders. 'I am perfectly well. And I want to stay on deck. I love storms. I don't want to miss the chance of experiencing a rough sea.' Exhilarated by the wind and the sharp movement of the ship, he laughed delightedly at the consternation on the others' faces.
'Are you sure you do not feel just a little unwell?' asked Helga, at last showing some signs of concern for their charges.
'I feel wonderful,' said George, throwing his arms wide to take in the sky as the ship gave a particularly vicious lurch. 'Please go below and take care of yourselves. Mr Faro will look after me.'
The three needed no further bidding and lurched towards the companionway in great haste, leaving Faro and George to face the elements alone - and whatever dangers were threatened by the unseen enemies Dieter had predicted were following the heir to Luxoria.
'May I stay out on deck, sir?' George asked.
‘Of course.’
'It is the best place, isn't it?'
'Yes, indeed. And here's a corner,' Faro pointed to a pile of ropes, 'where we can sit down and be sheltered from the strong winds. Are you used to these crossings?' he asked curiously.
'Just coming back and forward to school. In the long vacation, when I can see Mother,' the boy added sadly.
'Are you ever sick?' Faro asked.
'Never. Perhaps I have been lucky in the past.' And turning to Faro he asked, 'Why are you not ill like the other grownups?'
'I expect that is because the sea is in my blood. My ancestors were Vikings and I was born on an island. All my ancestors went to sea.'
'Where is this island, Mr Faro?'
'Orkney.'
George laughed. 'I have heard of Orkney.' And Faro's heart gave a sudden lurch when the boy added, 'My mother knew someone who came from there, long ago before I was born.'
And studying Faro again he continued, 'She will be so pleased to know I have met a gentleman from Orkney. A Viking too. Yes, you do look like one. Oh, I beg your pardon, sir,' he added, completely mistaking the reason for Faro's confusion.
Faro laughed. 'Not at all. I am used to it. People think Orcadians are Scots, but we are actually from a different race. From the Norsemen, not the Picts.'
'Do you have your own kings and queens, then?'
'Not for a very long time, George. We govern ourselves.'
The boy nodded. 'I would like to go to your island some day,' he said wistfully. 'The idea appeals to me. We never see the sea in Luxoria, we are what you would call land-locked. We have only rivers.'
The sea was settling down, the wind had dropped and the sky above them swayed, a huge black velvet canopy studded with bright stars. From below deck drifted music, a small orchestra for the passengers' entertainment, the sound of laughter, of happy voices. Far away, faint lights bobbed on the horizon, glowworms in the darkness marking the shores of France.
George yawned, ‘I am quite tired, sir, but I do not want to go below. I don't want to miss any of this adventure - being at sea, and I would rather stay and talk to you, if I may, sir,' he added shyly.
Looking at the boy's pale face, which showed more than his brave words the recent ordeals he had been through, Faro said, 'Indeed you may. You may rest your head here, against my shoulder, if you wish.'
'Thank you, sir.' And the boy leaned against him gratefully.
Faro closed his eyes, content to have this precious hour, precious moments that some fathers enjoy for a lifetime.
After a while George stirred, yawned and said, 'Do you think I will ever go back to Glenatholl again? I expect Mother will want me to finish my education once she is well again.'
Listening, Faro wondered how long they would be able to keep the truth about Amelie's 'accident' from her son. Surely he would see a newspaper
