George shook his head. 'He is exaggerating.'
'No, I am not. I've seen you.' And to Faro. 'Archery is our national sport.'
'In the Middle Ages,' George said, 'Luxorian archers were famous and fought as mercenaries with many European armies. They went on the Crusades too.'
'The President prefers guns and soldiers,' said Anton grimly.
At this reminder of what might lie ahead, Faro wished he could share the boys' excitement and confidence in the future. It seemed absurd that he could not shake off the growing certainty that it was not all over, of danger still to come.
He found himself staring out of the window anxiously scrutinising the horizons for any signs of movement. That twitch of unease remained that they had not yet seen the last of this bleak and threatening landscape.
His two young travelling companions had no such misgivings. With all the resilience of youth they had recovered from their recent ordeals and begged to be allowed to ride on the engine.
The guard was summoned to escort them and Faro was delighted to enjoy a little peace and quiet in the very comfortable carriage. Though not as elegant as the Orient Express, it had attractive features and a very distinctive style. The wooden panels were hand-painted with highly decorated scenes that he associated with travel in Europe. Swiss-style houses and mountain peaks covered in snow, with edelweiss predominant on their sunny slopes.
He was delighted to lean back in an armchair unobtrusively anchored to the floor by the window, and a few moments later the carriage door opened to admit a splendidly uniformed waiter with a food-laden tray. Fresh coffee, warm croissants, ham and cheese. A selection of good things for any man's breakfast, especially one as hungry as Faro at that moment.
The young gentlemen, he was told, had elected to have food brought to them on the engine. They did not wish to miss any of the journey.
Faro was surprised to realise he understood every word. The waiter smiled. Then Faro remembered that English was the second language of Luxoria and that even minor officials would be well-versed in the language.
He watched the passing landscape as he ate. Although there was still little colour, there was less snow than he had expected and a marked improvement had taken place in the terrain. Meadows, vast orchards, with deciduous forests on the hillsides' lower slopes, changing into conifers as the trees ascended. Vineyards and glimpses of twisting rivers and water mills. Here and there the turret of a castle frowned down from within a deep forest. There was an odd familiarity about the scenery. He had a sense of ‘deja vu’.
Suddenly he knew why. This area reminded him of Royal Deeside. He laughed out loud. No wonder Prince Albert had chosen Balmoral and been so very much at home there. When His Royal Highness felt wistful, by narrowing his eyes and imagining those tall Scottish pine forests above the River Dee replaced with vineyards and a twisting river from his homeland, he could have been in Saxe-Coburg again.
'We will be arriving at the border in a short while, sir. We should be inside Luxoria within the hour,' the waiter told him, coming to collect his tray and take any further orders.
The head of the State Railway appeared, bowed and announced, 'We are still in Germany at present, sir. We were given special permission to cross over on this minor branch line, now closed except for freight trains, to collect our very important royal passenger.'
To Faro’s enquiry regarding sending a telegraph to Heidelberg, he was assured that there were always such facilities available at the border post.
So he relaxed in his comfortable chair for a while longer, viewing the passing scene as it flashed by, a constant source of interest. He must remember any particular details that Imogen would want to know about.
It would be such a delight to be with her again, he thought, forcing her image to the front of his mind to obliterate the sadness of the inevitable parting from George. He was aware that there was not the remotest possibility of ever seeing his son again, of watching the boy become a man and eventually the ruler of Luxoria.
He sighed. He must guard against over-indulgence in sentiment, remembering always with gratitude that he had shared a few precious days of the boy's existence and had been instrumental in returning him safely to his mother. As for himself, he would be the practical tourist once again, taking an ordinary service train back to Stuttgart. A telegraph to Imogen would have her meeting him in Heidelberg.
He smiled at the thought of how surprised she would be and of the great adventure he had to relate to her. Was the time now ripe to tell her the truth about George?
How would she react?
The sound of the train rhythmically chug-chugging along was very hypnotic. He would rest his eyes just for a moment.
Perhaps he slept. Suddenly he was aware that he was no longer alone. Confused, he opened his eyes, to find Dieter looking down at him.
Chapter 22
'Dieter!'
The man smiled. 'Mr. Faro, I am sorry to disturb you. You were looking very peaceful. I am very glad indeed to see you safe and well. And the two boys - I am sorry I was not here to welcome you.'
Faro stared at him. 'When did you board the train?'
'Some time ago, Mr Faro. You must excuse me but, like yourselves, I was very tired by all my travels.' He sighed deeply. 'After giving orders that the boys and yourself were to be well looked-after, I said I did not wish to be disturbed until we were in sight of Luxoria.'
With a thin-lipped smile he added, 'They took me at my word. I fell asleep and I am afraid you came aboard unobserved.'
Faro listened to him, not believing a word of it.
