By Royal Command Read Online Free PDF Page A

painting, or a mirror, or a stuffed deer’s head.
    A cheer went up as James entered the restaurant, even though, when he looked round the faces of the twenty-five or so boys and masters assembled around the long wooden table, he recognised only a few faces: Mister Merriot, his classical tutor, sitting with the other masters at the far end; Freddie Meyer, a German boy James had somewhat lost touch with since his first half; two boys from his house, Tom Llewellyn and Teddy Mackereth, and a couple of others. They all smiled and waved and called out to him. There was a jolly, festive atmosphere. The boys were evidently enjoying their trip.
    Andrew had saved a place for him, and he sat down next to another friend, Gordon Latimer. He quickly caught up with all the Eton gossip, and Andrew and Gordon told him what had happened in the run-up to his best friend, Perry Mandeville, being sent down for putting several sheep in the Head Master’s bedroom. Perry was the founder and captain of the Danger Society, and since he had left Eton the club had shut down.
    It was a shame that Perry wasn’t there. James would have liked to see him, but he was glad of the other familiar faces. He had missed the last half at Eton and had only just got back from Mexico, which was why he was two days late in joining the others.
    Now, though, he was back among friends.
    He told them a little about his recent adventures, but left out most of what had happened. It was buried deep inside, along with many other secrets. All James wanted was to return to being an ordinary schoolboy. He was looking forward to three weeks of walking and climbing and, with any luck, learning how to ski.
    ‘You’re sharing a room with me and two others,’ Gordon explained. ‘One of them’s a decent enough sort, Grenville Warner; he’s about your age, I think. I’m afraid the other one, Miles Langton-Herring, is a bit of a bore, with a deep love of facts and figures. You know the sort, reckons he’s an expert on everything, and won’t let you forget it. He could blither for England at the next Olympics. That’s him down there, talking with his mouth full.’
    James looked down the table towards where Gordon was pointing. He saw a large boy with wavy brown hair and a ruddy complexion. He had big horse-like teeth, but was good-looking in a somewhat burly, rugby-playing sort of way. He was talking loudly and quickly and laughing a lot – presumably at his own jokes as nobody else around him could get a word in.
    James smiled. He had never expected to feel this way, but it was good to get back to his normal school life. The problems were all small and easily solved. Nothing could scare him. He understood now that school was a simple time when you could be yourself, enjoy yourself and not have to worry too much about the big world that was waiting for you outside like a hungry wolf.
    He went up to bed that night with his belly full and his heart light. The hearty Austrian food – soup with noodles, Wiener Schnitzel and Apfelstrudel – had been just the ticket. He even felt strong enough to face the dreaded Miles Langton-Herring, who was sporting a pair of pyjamas monogrammed with his initials. Miles barely paused to take breath after introducing himself before launching into a long and dull history of skiing.
    James fell asleep to the sound of his pompous, fruity voice droning on…
    ‘Of course skiing is by no means a new invention. There are cave paintings from thousands of years ago showing men with skis strapped to their feet. But for a long time skiing was simply a way of getting about on the snow. Nobody ever thought of climbing to the tops of mountains just to ski down them. The Norwegians developed the art of cross-country skiing, but when they brought their sport to the Alps they were faced with bigger mountains and steeper slopes and so new techniques had to be learnt. An Austrian called Zdarsky developed the Lilienfield technique at the end of the last century,