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  Captain Darius was, of course, not included in the party and everyone else, she decided, was well over fifty.

  Although they occasionally appeared to remember her presence and made desultory remarks that were so banal that she could hardly bother to answer them, the rest of the time they talked amongst themselves.

  They talked of things she knew nothing about and she was sure that they would purposely not reveal to her anything that she might wish to know.

  At last, when she felt it impossible not to yawn and the port and liqueurs had been passed around the table at least half-a-dozen times, the train came to a standstill.

  The Slavonian Ambassador rose to draw back one of the velvet curtains and exclaimed,

  “The Manski Pass! Well, that was quick! I had no idea that we should reach here so soon.”

  Because it had seemed to Giona an inordinately long time, she thought it could have been only the food and the drink that had made the time seem to them to pass quickly.

  She was therefore thankful when Lady Bowden suggested,

  “I think now we should retire to our own quarters and allow Her Royal Highness to get some sleep. She has a long day in front of her tomorrow.”

  “That is true,” the Slavonian Ambassador replied. “We shall be leaving, Your Royal Highness, at eight o’clock and we will arrive in the Capital just before luncheon. His Majesty will be waiting impatiently to meet you and with him will be the Prime Minister and other Members of the Government.”

  He paused before he added,

  “You may have to say a few words, but I doubt it. I am sure that His Majesty will thank everybody for their congratulations for you and all you will have to do is to smile at him and receive everyone with dignity and, I am sure, pleasure.”

  Once again he was talking as if she was a raw recruit and Giona longed to tell him so.

  But instead, she said quietly,

  “Thank you for telling me and now, as her Ladyship has suggested, I am tired and I should be grateful if my maid could be sent to me to help me to bed.”

  After that there was nothing anyone could do but leave and she thought several of the Ministers looked reluctantly at the wine that was still on the table.

  However, servants arrived to carry it away and soon, after quite an unnecessary number of ‘goodnights’, she was alone.

  She pulled back the curtains from one of the windows and saw they were, as she had expected, high up in the mountains and she could see the peaks of one silhouetted against the stars.

  Then her maid, whose name was Mithra, came hurrying into the carriage, saying as she did so,

  “Your Royal Highness must be tired. It’s ever so late.”

  “How late?” Giona enquired.

  “Nearly midnight, Your Royal Highness.”

  Giona sighed.

  “I thought it must be, but nobody wanted to stop drinking.”

  Mithra laughed.

  “That’s what we always say about the Germans,” she said. “Drink! Drink! Drink!”

  Then, as if she felt she had been indiscreet, she put her hand across her lips.

  “I’m sorry, Your Royal Highness, I should not have said that!”

  “Let me make it clear from the beginning,” Giona said, “that, if you are going to look after me and I hope you will, we will be frank with each other. It would be a mistake if you had to worry over every word in case you say something indiscreet. I want you to say what you like, Mithra, and I shall enjoy that. I like frankness and, if I should speak to you in a very frank way, I know that you would not repeat it.”

  To her surprise Mithra went down on one knee and raised her hands to her lips.

  “You’re a very lovely lady, Your Royal Highness, just as I felt an English lady would be. I’m very very proud to serve you.”

  “Thank you,” Giona said, rather touched. “And now, Mithra, come and help me undress, because otherwise I shall be asleep when we leave at eight o’clock in the morning.”

  They went into the bedroom and Giona took off the pretty gown she had put on for dinner.

  Mithra helped her into her nightgown and a satin negligée that she had thought she might need if they were stopping in the mountains.

  But it was not nearly as cold as she had expected and she was certain that tomorrow would be very hot down in the valley when they reached Dūric.

  She had already decided what she would wear for her first appearance in her new country.

  She knew that all the gowns her mother had chosen for her were in perfect taste and, because they could afford to be extravagant, since the Queen was paying, very attractive.

  Mithra brushed Giona’s hair as it fell over her shoulders until it danced with the electricity from the height where they had stopped.

  Then with a low curtsey Mithra said,

  “Is there anything else I can do for Your Royal Highness?”

  “Nothing, thank you,” Giona replied.

  She had already said that she did not wish to get into bed for the moment, because she intended when she was alone to look out of the windows at the mountains and say her prayers while she was gazing at them.

  She almost felt as if they would be more effective here at this height than if she said them by her bed.

  “Then I will say goodnight, Your Royal Highness,” Mithra said, “and may the angels guard you.”

  “I am sure they will,” Giona replied, “and perhaps I shall need the protection of the angels tomorrow in case ‘The Invisible One’ strikes at me!”

  She said that deliberately because she wondered what Mithra, because she was a Slavonian, would say.

  But she was not prepared for the look of horror that came over the woman’s face or the fact that she put her hands up in an instinctive gesture to her breasts as if to quell the shock that Giona’s words had given her.

  “What does – Your Royal Highness – know of – ‘The Invisible One’?” she asked hesitatingly after a moment.

  “Very little,” Giona replied, “and I would like you to tell me what you know.”

  Mithra looked absolutely horrified.

  “To speak of him in the privacy of His Majesty’s carriage is dangerous, very very dangerous, Your Royal Highness. Another day, another time, but not here!”

  She made a little sound that was one of sheer terror and crossed herself, then she curtseyed again before she slipped out through the bedroom door and Giona heard her running across the drawing room and out beyond it to the entrance of the Royal Coach.

  She was aware that since they had come to a standstill, a set of wooden steps had been set outside the coach for the convenience of those who wished to enter or leave it.

  Now on either side of the steps stood a sentry.

  Giona stood where Mithra had left her, thinking how strange the woman’s behaviour was. But she noted with satisfaction that she knew about ‘The Invisible One’, and there was therefore a chance that sooner or later she would be able to learn something from her.

  ‘It’s all like a story in a novel,’ she told herself.

  She was about to pull back the curtains of her bedroom when she realised that, if she did so, anyone outside would be able to see her.

  Instead she opened the door and went into the drawing room.

  Here there was only one small light left burning and this she extinguished before she drew back the curtains and looked out.

  She could see the rocky sides of the pass, the trees growing above them, and higher still, the mountains, impressive and beautiful against the stars.

  It was, however, a rather limited view from the windows and she could not see as high as she would have liked.

  Although she knew it was imprudent to do so, she walked down the drawing room into the small passageway and opened the door that led onto the rough ground, because there was no platform on what she guessed was the top of the pass.

  The two sentries who had been close against the steps earlier in the evening had now moved a little
farther away, but were still standing at attention, their rifles in their hands, their backs to her.

  They were protecting her, she thought with a faint smile, from the rocks and the trees, for there was nothing else to be seen.

  She stood in the doorway of the carriage and now she had a magnificent view not only of the peaks just above her but also of the other peaks in the distance.

  The stars shone like diamonds in the sable sky and a young moon was rising to throw its silver light on the stony sides of the mountaintops.

  It was all so lovely that Giona drew in her breath.

  It was what she had expected and she knew now that it would be easy to pray for what she wanted, feeling somehow that she was nearer to God than she had been at any other time since she had left England.

  At that moment there was a loud and violent explosion somewhere towards the front of the train.

  It was about six carriages away, but in the silence of the night the noise seemed deafening and, as Giona stared from where she was standing, finding it impossible to see anything, as the train curved slightly away from her to the right, there was the sound of firing and the two sentries lifted their rifles to hold them at the ready.

  It appeared to come from the engine, but from where she stood it was difficult to see.

  Doors were opening and soldiers were jumping out onto the ground.

  There was a return of fire and the two sentries were watching what was happening.

  Giona was just about to ask them what was going on when suddenly there came a whisper from below her feet and to her astonishment a man’s voice speaking in English said,

  “Save me! For God’s sake save me!”

  Chapter Four

  Afterwards Giona was to realise that she acted instantaneously by sheer instinct rather than by making any conscious decision.

  With hardly a pause she walked down the steps towards the sentries and, when she was within a few feet of them, she stopped and said,

  “I think there was a movement in those bushes. I am sure I saw somebody there.”

  She pointed as she spoke to a clump of bushes about twenty yards away by the railside.

  As she anticipated, the sentries hurried forward and as they did so she was certain without turning her head that somebody slipped up the steps and into her coach.

  She was just about to turn and go back, when running from the end of the train came a number of soldiers led by an Officer.

  They were carrying fixed bayonets and the Officer, holding a pistol in his hand, came hastily to a stop when he realised who she was.

  “Are you all right, Your Royal Highness?” he asked in German.

  “Perfectly, thank you, Major,” Giona replied, knowing his rank from the insignia on his shoulder.

  The Officer glanced to where the sentries were inspecting somewhat warily the bushes that Giona had pointed out to them.

  As if he asked the question, she said,

  “I thought I saw a movement in those shrubs.”

  The Officer, without hesitation, gave the word of command and his men followed him swiftly towards the bushes.

  Giona climbed back up the steps and into her coach.

  Only as she went through the door did she wonder if she had done something reprehensible and perhaps even dangerous.

  Then she remembered that the plea for help had been spoken in English and she shut the door behind her and bolted it.

  As she turned to enter the drawing room, she realised that it was in complete darkness.

  Somebody had closed the curtains, which she had left open so that she could look at the stars.

  For a moment she was frightened and then a voice, very low and deep, said in English,

  “Don’t be afraid. I will not harm you and I am very grateful.”

  The voice came from the far end of the drawing room as Giona put out her hands in front of her to feel her way and then she sat down in the first chair she found.

  There was silence and then before she could speak came the sound of more shots outside.

  She was not certain whether they came from the end of the train, where the explosion had taken place, or from the bushes where she had sent the sentries and the other soldiers.

  She knew as she listened that the man in the drawing room with her was also listening as intently as she was.

  Then in a voice that quivered a little because she was beginning to feel frightened, Giona asked,

  “What is happening?”

  “You don’t know?”

  “No one has told me anything.”

  She had the feeling that the man she was speaking to was thinking before he replied,

  “A bomb was thrown at the engine, which was intended to prevent it from travelling any further.”

  “Who threw it?” Giona asked.

  “What you would call ‘revolutionaries’,” was the answer, “but I would refer to them as ‘patriots’.”

  “You mean you are Slavonian?”

  “Exactly!”

  “You are Slavonian and yet you speak English!”

  “Would you have preferred me to speak in German?”

  Giona smiled.

  “I can speak your language too,” she said.

  The man gave an exclamation.

  “That is good! You have taken the trouble to learn the language of this country! That is certainly something that nobody would have expected you to do.”

  Before Giona could reply there was the sound of voices outside the coach and she heard somebody try to open the door.

  When they realised that it was bolted, they knocked loudly.

  She felt her heart give a frightened leap and was aware that the man she could not see in the darkness was tense.

  How she knew this she was not certain, except that she was aware of his vibrations and they were very strong.

  She deliberately waited for several seconds and then as the knock came again she called out, knowing that whoever was outside would suppose that she had come from the bedroom to the door,

  “Who is it?”

  “It is Colonel Muller, Your Royal Highness. I have been sent by His Excellency to ask if you are all right. He would have come at once himself, but he had already retired for the night when the explosion happened. However, he is dressing and should be with you shortly.”

  Giona drew in her breath and replied,

  “Please thank His Excellency for his concern, but I am perfectly all right. As I am tired, I have no wish to see anyone.”

  “His Excellency thinks, Your Royal Highness, that you should have a member of his staff in your drawing room to guard you during the night.”

  “There is no need for that,” Giona said firmly, “although it is very gracious of His Excellency to think of it. Inform him that I am now going to sleep and do not wish to be awakened again.”

  “You are quite certain, Your Royal Highness, that you would not like somebody to be with you?”

  “Quite certain,” Giona insisted. “Goodnight, Colonel, and thank you!”

  As she did not hear the Colonel move away, she knew that he was upset at her decision and wanted to continue to argue that she should have somebody on guard in the drawing room.

  But after a while, as if he knew that he could do nothing but accept her decision, she heard him walk down the wooden steps and away towards the front of the train.

  The man in the darkness gave a low laugh.

  “You were very firm with him. Do you always get your own way?”

  “Not very often,” Giona admitted.

  There was the sound of footsteps outside and of soldiers coming to a halt.

  “I think, after all, you have a bodyguard outside,” the man remarked.

  “I am afraid so,” Giona replied, “which means we must talk very quietly or else they will think that I am mad and talking to myself!”

  “I am very honoured that you intend to talk to me,” was the reply, “and may I suggest, if it will not make you nervous,
that we draw a little closer to each other?”

  “I was already thinking that,” Giona said. “If we go to the other side of this compartment – it will be harder for them to overhear us.”

  She rose as she spoke and moved through the furniture, feeling her way to the other side of the small drawing room.

  As she reached the window, she realised that the man she had rescued was very near to her, but as they sat down in two chairs facing each other, Giona was aware that she was not frightened.

  In fact, although it seemed strange, she trusted him.

  “Now, please,” she said in a murmured whisper, “tell me exactly what has happened and – who you are.”

  “I will tell you what was intended to happen,” he said, “if it will not upset you.”

  Again he was speaking in English.

  Then as he hesitated, wondering where to begin, Giona gave a little cry.

  “I know who you are!” she said. “You are ‘The Invisible One’!”

  She was aware that he stiffened before he asked,

  “What do you know about ‘The Invisible One’?”

  “Only that everybody is frightened to speak of him, but he is, in fact, the Pretender to the Throne of Slavonia.”

  There was silence and, as the man opposite her did not speak, she said,

  “That is true, is it not?”

  “I am astonished, completely astonished,” was the answer, “because I did not expect you to be aware of what was happening here in my country. I cannot believe that His Excellency, the most esteemed Ambassador of Slavonia, would have been so frank!”

  He spoke with a sarcastic note in his voice that made Giona want to laugh and she answered,

  “No, you may be certain that it was not he, but somebody else.”

  She wondered if he would guess that it was Captain Darius, but, as she had no wish to say anything that might hurt the young Slavonian, she said,

  “Please, in case you vanish and – I never know the truth, tell me exactly what has happened and why the Royal Train was attacked.”

  “It was intended,” the man opposite her replied, “that it should be burned to the ground with everybody in it!”

  Giona gave a gasp of horror.