“The youth was eventually able to tell me their name - Sam, which almost immediately transformed into Flotsam in my head. He had fallen into the river after slipping off the edge of one of the logs piled beneath the wharf upstream where he and a few other children had been trying to fish for minnows. There had been no adults about at the time as the trade boats had just departed that morning and no more were due until tomorrow.”

  “We talked for a while and he seemed to know quite a lot about the goings on of the wharf and told me he intended to become a sailor and travel far and wide, just like his father - whom he informed me he had yet to meet in person, being only a baby when he had gone to sea. His mother, every time he asked when his father would be returning, insisted he would be home when the tides allowed.”

  “Flotsam helped his mother out financially, by running jobs for the various tradesmen attached to the town, carrying messages and small items from place to place. She had been working since she was a young girl, first as a maid then later as a laundress after the boy was born. He boasted that she worked for one of the town’s leading merchant families who owned boats all up and down the river.”

  “When I asked him if he lived in a big house, he told me they had a small room they shared with another family at the edge of the property and that his mother would not usually be home until late after sunset as she often had to help the staff with the night candles and shutters, so he often ended up eating dinner in the kitchen with the scullery maids."

  “Hearing this I decided that dallying here overnight would only cause the poor woman further grief and so I decided to set off that afternoon. I had Flotsam help me clean up the campsite, covering over the embers while I packed all my gear back into the Bean, then deposited the child, much to his excitement, securely in the prow.”

  “As we tortuously punted our way upriver, Flotsam deviated between tour guide and navigator and I was treated to an almost endless stream of sailor stories and small facts about the surrounding countryside, the different people he worked for and all manner of gossip that his young ears probably were not meant to hear.”

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  “Finally, we grew close enough to the town that I could make out the silhouette of the wharf in the distance, the bright afternoon sun casting its shadows across the water. Standing on the cobbled bank, just back from the wharf I could see a large group of women crying and hugging, consoling it seemed, a middle aged lady who was sobbing and wailing loudly.”

  “That’s me mam!” shouted Flotsam, setting my ears ringing while his wriggling legs and waving arms threatened to upset the poor boat.

  “Many heads turned in our direction, and then there was a singular shriek from the shore, “Saaaaaaaammmmmmy!”

  “One shore-side reunion later and I found myself dragged to a local tavern for a pint or two as Flotsam explained to one and all how water dragons had been fought, pirates thwarted and the heroes returned home. Much later, once the child had been dragged off to bed, the real story was told to much laughter.”

  “As the night drew to a close and I was about to retire upstairs for the night, one of the serving staff approached and she said a note had just arrived for me - handing over a crisp envelope inside of which was an invitation on fine stationery bearing a sailing ship. It read:

  ‘Kind Sir,

  On behalf of my family I would like to cordially invite you to a light luncheon,

  to be held in your honour for the services you have rendered for our House this day.

  If we may be allowed we will send Samuel to act as your guide.

  Regards,

  Mistress Vltava.’"