The Dragonfly Pool

“From the moment the courtiers came to fetch him, calling him ‘Your Majesty’ with every second breath, everything changed. To me it seemed that he became cut off from his people, giving in to ceremony and pomp. But I had promised to help him and I stayed.

“Then a young hothead we’d known as boys got into trouble. He’d been giving out leaflets about the Brotherhood of Man, saying there shouldn’t be kings.”

“Like Tod,” said Tally.

Matteo nodded. “They put him in prison, and I went to see the king to ask for his release—he was only a boy—and the king refused to see me. He was in consultation with his ministers.

“You have to know what friends we were to understand what happened next. I have a temper; when I found that Johannes wouldn’t see me I went home, packed a bag—and went.” He paused. “That was fifteen years ago, but I’ve never been back. And then when I returned to Europe I learned what he had done, how brave he had been, standing up to Hitler, and I was ashamed of having deserted him. I realized, too, that he must be in danger and I longed to see him again. So I came back.”

“But too late,” said the boy.

“Yes, Karil. Too late.”

The boy could not blame him more than he blamed himself, thought Matteo. He should have made himself known to the king as soon as he arrived, but he had wanted to find out who the conspirators were and how serious the danger to Johannes. So he had hidden from those who might recognize him—the minister of culture, the waitress at the Blue Ox—and pursued his inquiries in secret. By the time he spoke to the king he knew where the danger lay—but not that it would come so soon.

Karil had been listening intently, but it was a tremendous effort: his eyes clung to Matteo’s face almost as though he was lipreading.

“I saw how my father held you . . . how he wanted to be with you. I will remember.” He looked around at the trees and the pool as though wondering where he was. “Now I must go back.”

“No!”

Matteo spoke more loudly than he meant to and Karil shrank back. “I must,” he repeated. “I must see my father buried.”

“No,” said Matteo again, making an effort to speak calmly. “No, you must come away with us. You must carry on somewhere else. It is what your father would have wished.”

“I don’t want to go on being a prince,” said the boy in a thread of a voice.

“You don’t have to be a prince—only the person that you are and the man you will become.”

But the boy shook his head.

Matteo changed his tack. He took him by the shoulder. “Listen, Karil, the men who killed your father are not isolated criminals. They are part of a conspiracy that will take over Bergania and perhaps the whole of Europe. Once they have you in their power they will do one of two things. They will use you. Or . . .” He paused deliberately, judging how much the boy could take. “Or they will kill you.”

There was silence after that. Tally looked aghast at Matteo, then at the boy still deep in shock. But Karil had understood.

“I have to trust you,” he said. “I see that. But . . .” He made a hopeless gesture.

Matteo turned to Tally. “I’ll take him over the mountains. You’ll have to make your way back with Magda. We can stay overnight with the king’s old nurse.”

But as soon as he had said it he realized it would not do. Old Maria’s hut would be searched straightaway by anyone looking for the boy.

“No,” said Tally, “you’ll be caught.” And then: “There are better ways of getting Karil out of the country.”

Matteo was about to cut her short. Yet it was uncanny, the feeling she had had about Bergania from the start. Perhaps she deserved to be listened to.

“Karil said he had to trust you,” Tally went on. “Well, you have to trust us. All of us. Barney and Julia and Borro . . . even Verity.”

Matteo waited.

“It’s quite simple,” she said. “Karil must become a Deldertonian.”

CHAPTER NINETEEN

The Last Dance

As soon as she returned to the campsite Tally was surrounded.

“Where have you been?” everyone wanted to know. And then, lowering their voices: “Did you find him?”

Tally nodded and told them what had happened.

“Matteo’s with him. But we have to get him down from the hill and into our tent. And then smuggle him back to England. We’re going to pretend he’s one of us.”

Magda frowned. “Does Matteo agree to this?” she asked.

“He didn’t like it, but there’s no other way. Matteo wanted to take him alone over the mountains, but they’ll already be watching the borders.”

“There have been announcements the whole time on the loudspeakers,” said Barney. “Everybody is to keep off the streets.”

“But do they say anything about keeping off the mountains?” asked Tally.

“How are we going to bring him down without being seen?” Julia was very worried. “I suppose in the dark—”

“No, we’re not going to wait for the dark. And we’re not going to creep about or slink. I’ve had an idea.”

Julia sighed. “I wish you’d stop having ideas.”