“Yes, most times. Although.” The stranger snickered. “Sometimes they attack. Knock the tram off its tracks.”
“Oh, dear.”
The stranger waved one hand, still cradling his kitten in the other. “We have helpers. They will put it back on.”
“Oh, good.”
They waited a few moments more, and then Francis heard the soft whir of the tram arriving.
“I hear it!” he said excitedly, rising to his feet. “There it is!”
He was elated to see the small tram appear through the flowers, with its carriages a perfect miniature replica of the beautiful tram he had ridden on, except with some open top carriages the perfect size for a cat.
And, most wonderfully, there were indeed cats riding on this tram. Francis watched, overjoyed, as the tram came into the station platform beside the rock garden, and two little cats hopped off.
One cat, a tabby, elected to stay on.
“That is Kede,” the stranger explained. “She sits on the tram all the time.”
“I dare say she has the right idea,” Francis said, sitting back down.
The tabby regarded them calmly as the tram stayed in its station for a few minutes, then slowly set off again.
Francis watched a couple of the younger cats run along beside the tram for a while, enjoying the game of chase.
“This was the prototype?” Francis asked. “The first tram?”
“No, no.” The stranger made a gesture with his thumb and forefinger. “Small. Small. Later, for cats.”
He seemed to struggle sometimes with finding the words in German, but Francis understood his meaning.
“Marvellous,” he said, smiling at his new friend. “A very splendid invention. I can see the cats enjoy it.”
A shrug, a wry smile. “The cats did not care. Cats do as they please. Several years, this was ignored.” He pointed to the retreating tram and its feline passenger. “Several years, nothing. Then, cats take interest.”
“Oh, I see.” Francis smiled. “Cats are their own masters.”
His friend nodded. “Always. Always.”
“That does sound rather nice,” Francis mused.
* * * *
Archie was making the most of his downtime, eating whatever delicious food was available in the spectators’ tent, and chatting to all manner of interesting people.
Which was lucky, because the tournament was in a boring phase: all the king’s suitors were painting a still life picture of some fruit.
Christian was off sketching somewhere, and Archie hadn’t seen Maddie or Gustav all morning. He assumed they were with Francis.
Archie was on his second pomegranate and date tart, and his third cup of chai, when Maddie appeared, bustling up to him and dragged him away from the food table.
“Archie,” she whispered. “Have you seen Francis?”
“Isn’t he in the art lesson?” Archie replied. “Maddie, you’ll never guess what! I was talking to this fellow who says he has two wives here, and one of his wives has a lover, and apparently this is all rather normal. Fancy that, eh?”
“Never mind that, Archie,” Maddie whispered. “Francis is missing!”
“Missing?” Archie wasn’t all that surprised. Francis often gave his minders the slip. “Well, where was he last seen?”
