Chapter 16
Faro watched the train disappear snail-like into the gathering nightfall, its smoke a series of pale exclamation marks against the darkening sky.
Left stranded by the empty railway line, he felt suddenly angry and resentful. He should by now have seen George and Anton safely aboard the Luxorian train in the custody of Dieter and, with a telegraph sent to Imogen, be waiting on a platform in Stuttgart for the Heidelberg train. He looked in exasperation at the little group for which his responsibility was not yet ended, the two boys scared and vulnerable and considered the landscape with a jaundiced eye. As far as he could gather, they were the only humans visible in a desolate land, a world in mourning, where spring's rebirth was a forlorn hope in the wilderness which nature had forgotten.
At his side, Dieter wearily picked up the valise and the picnic hamper. The two boys had swiftly deserted the luggage and, waiting for someone to tell them what to do next, were pelting each other with snowballs.
'It will soon be dark,' said Dieter. 'We should get settled for the night. Delays in this area can be lengthy. We must not expect too much.'
'Then we had better see what the building over there has to offer,' said Faro with little hope as they set off in the direction of the old railway siding.
They stumbled over the rough ground. The recent heavy snowfall, unmarked by human footfalls, might have appeared beautiful in any other context. Nothing, however, could soften the bleak dreariness of the scene around them, broken by one solitary building. By no stretch of imagination could this small wooden hut be dignified as the waiting-room, Faro thought grimly.
They pushed open the door. By a flickering stove, a dejected-looking porter, with only a red and rather dripping nose visible above the swathe of shawls in which he was huddled against the cold, picked up a wavering lamp to inspect the new arrivals.
Perhaps expecting an influx of would-be passengers, he went to the door and, peering into the gloom, he raised the lamp and shook his head by way of acknowledgement, since greeting seemed a gross exaggeration in that expression of woeful melancholy.
‘The Luxorian train?' Cupping his hand to his ear, he answered Dieter's question and stared up and down the line. 'No, Excellencies, I have been told nothing about any engine from Luxoria. It is not on my station schedule,' he added sternly. 'We deal only with freight trains.'
Dieter translated before embarking on a detailed explanation in German which Faro gathered related to the landslide emergency. The porter clearly understood not one word but was intent on argument. Exasperated, Dieter turned to Faro.
'This is getting us nowhere.' And turning back to the porter he suggested telegraphing Luxoria to let them know that expected passengers are waiting for the train to collect them.
The man shook his head triumphantly at that. 'No, Excellency, you cannot. For the simple reason that we don't have one. It broke down years ago and was never replaced.'
'Then where is the nearest office?'
'Two kilometres down the line.'
Dieter translated this new disaster briefly for Faro's benefit.
'I will go,' Dieter added finally. 'I must let them know where we are.'
'Let me come with you,' said Anton.
'No. You stay with Mr Faro. It isn't far and I will be back as soon as I can.'
Faro admired the man's courage. He did not fancy the inactivity of waiting but someone had to remain with the boys. He was painfully conscious of his limitations in this emergency, helpless to deal with the intricacies of sending telegraph messages in a language only half understood in a German zone with a difficult local dialect, if the porter was anything to judge by.
'There must be houses somewhere not too far off,' said George.
'What makes you think that?' asked Faro hopefully.
'When we were playing in the snow out there, we heard dogs barking, didn't we Anton?'
Dogs? Faro and Dieter exchanged anxious looks. Guessing that it was more likely the distant howl of a wolf pack, Faro followed the bodyguard outside. 'You will take care.'
Dieter looked towards the woods, a thick black impenetrable mass. 'Yes. But do not trouble yourself on my account. Wolves will not attack me. I will borrow the porter's lamp. Fire will keep them at bay. And I have a gun. I will be quite safe.'
'I think you should wait until daybreak.'
'And spend all night just waiting, doing nothing?' Dieter laughed harshly. Faro understood that this emotion was one they shared and any further argument was useless. With George and Anton, he watched Dieter walking down the track until the swinging lamp was swallowed up by the darkness.
Inside the tiny hut the two boys huddled close to the stove, while the old porter applauded his good fortune in sharing the travellers' hamper of excellent food. The only item which he recognised instantly was cold roast chicken. But his palate happily accommodated all the new tastes, the like of which he had never before experienced and had little hope of ever doing so again. And such wine too!
At last he bedded down on what was little more than a straw pallet in a corner farthest from the door. The comfort of the travellers was not his concern. Wrapped in his voluminous cape, he was soon snoring and Faro wondered if he had a home somewhere and what had brought an old man long past retirement age to such a comfortless existence.
Yawning, the two boys looked helplessly at Faro as he considered two long wooden benches facing each other on opposite walls in what must have been a cold and inhospitable waiting-room even in its better days. At least the porter had indicated that there were plenty of logs to keep the fire going all night, mostly old sleepers from a broken-down platform.
'We must be thankful for small mercies,' Faro told the boys, setting Anton to sleep on one bench and George on the other. ‘We
