AHMM, December 2006

by Dell Magazine Authors

"Unfortunately for both of us,” he said, “my purse is empty. Not a single sou remains in my possession, not even a copper denier. It is these low circumstances that bring me into your kingdom of thieves and scoundrels."

  Josette broke free of the enveloping cloak, yet the Chevalier maintained his hold on her. His grip moved down until her right hand was tightly clasped in his. She fought, but he was much the stronger. I sensed her surrender to his will was soon to come and was therefore glad I had not tested my own luck at his nonexistent money. Eventually, Josette ceased to struggle. I waited to see what she would try next.

  "Monsieur Remy,” she spoke in cold words, “if you continue to hold my hand, people will assume we're lovers. Please turn me loose."

  "Let the people think what they will, ma chérie. As long as I know where your hands are, then the few personal belongings I still have will remain much safer. Now be still. Your king has risen from his throne, and it appears he has a few words for his subjects."

  On the other side of the fire, King Jules, in his patchwork cape of many colors, stood with arms outstretched to the multitude.

  "Fellow criminals, tonight is the night of renewing your tithes, and as your benevolent ruler I am prepared to accept your pledges so freely given."

  A man near me spat on the ground, then whispered to the night air, “Freely given, else die."

  "But let me remind you,” continued King Jules, “since the provost and soldiers have raided our old Court of Miracles, it is no longer safe for any of you to rest your head overnight in the city, lest the gibbet provide you with a loftier view of those citizens we have stolen from in the past. This hill where we now reside is your only sanctuary, and this refuge is provided solely to those who are generous with their money and goods. Tithe to me and I give you protection. Who will speak first?"

  From the edge of the crowd, a cripple approached the foot of the worn, padded chair. He propelled himself by means of swinging his lower body, encased in a metal bowl, forward between his down-stretched arms while his gloved knuckles hopped across the ground. The bottom of the bowl oft bumped on stone. As the crowd murmured, he halted before the king. With a quick movement, the cripple lifted himself out of the bowl and stood, elongating his legs to full height, shaking out the stiffness of muscle. A flourish of hand, and he tucked the metal bowl under his left arm.

  "We beggars pledge our usual tithe."

  "All of you are in agreement?” inquired the king.

  "We are."

  "So be it.” The king indicated the tall pockmarked man standing at his immediate right. “At the end of each day, give one-tenth of your received coin to Loup and tell him if any beggar refuses to pay."

  The beggar nodded and moved back into the crowd.

  Jules made a sweep with his arm.

  "Who speaks next?"

  From the shadows stepped a swarthy man in clothes the color of coal. If it hadn't been for the whites of his eyes, he'd have completely disappeared into the background of a moonless night.

  "Yes, Pascal,” inquired King Jules.

  "We of the thieves have met and also agree to tithe one-tenth of our purloined goods..."

  "Business as usual then,” replied Jules. “Bring me your loot at the end of each job. I will have it transported to our buyers, and we will divide the wealth accordingly."

  "...but,” continued the swarthy man, “there are those among our guild who believe we now pay more than the tithe requires. When the Bookkeeper was here..."

  Jules held up a warning hand.

  "The Bookkeeper, as you know well enough, was caught passing counterfeit coins in the city."

  A somber look settled on Jules's face as he spoke further.

  "And since my skills at math and record-keeping are rather incomplete, his arrest is a great loss to us all. Plus, now we hear the unfortunate news that his judges hint at bringing back the old penalty of kettling. It looks like a bad end for our friend, being boiled alive."

  Jules visibly attempted a brave front.

  "However, I may have a plan for the Bookkeeper's release. Give me some time."

  Pascal ducked his head and continued from the point where he had been interrupted.

  "Others suggest that you also cheat us when our share of the spoils is sold in the city."

  "Then by all means, you thieves should sell your own goods."

  "That is no longer possible."

  "Why not?"

  The swarthy man raised his head and appeared to choose his next words carefully.

  "Our usual fences in all three parts of Paris—the city, the town, and the university—say that upon pain of death they can no longer purchase our stolen goods. They are able to buy from only one person and that person is you."

  King Jules rubbed the knuckles of his left hand across his stubbled chin. His face assumed a contemplative look.

  "I see your problem. Well, Pascal, give me the names of those malcontents in your group who believe they are being cheated, and I will have Loup question them personally about their unhappiness."

  The swarthy man waved his hands weakly in the air.

  "It was only some voices muttering in the dark, Jules. I didn't see who they were."

  "Listen closer next time, Pascal, and we won't have this problem in the future."

  As Pascal shuffled away and another speaker took his place, Josette turned to Remy. I stayed close enough to hear her words.

  "You see how our king operates, one way or the other, it's the lion's share for him and his court, leaving only the bones for us. You may wish to rethink your entrance here tonight before you have your own dealings with Loup, our king's so-called minister of justice."

  "Loup does have a face to scare crows in the field and small children in the dark,” replied Remy.

  "Pray you don't find his visage up close to yours some desperate night,” exclaimed Josette.

  "In that case it wouldn't be prayers I'd use for protection. Of more interest to me, however, are the ten hard men I count at your king's side. How many others does he have?"

  "Several more mingle in the crowd to keep watch and listen to the murmurings of the people. It may already be too late for you to leave. Strangers are not easily welcomed here. Each must have a special trade to earn his keep."

  I knew Josette was right; Jules seemed to have an eye and an ear on all that happened not only on this hill but in all of Paris. Uneasily, I glanced behind me and recognized six large men shouldering through the crowd in our direction. If I remained where I stood, I would be trampled underfoot. And for what? I could easily step to one side and let events take their own course. But Josette had always been kind to me, and even then I knew I loved her, regardless of the years that stood between us. As for the Chevalier, I still considered him as mine to take or give away. I'd seen him long before these six ruffians.

  Lightly, I touched Josette on the arm and gave warning.

  "Jules has men coming this way."

  She glanced over her shoulder, while the Chevalier calmly cast his gaze down on me.

  "You're the boy in the school for pickpockets. Do your ears still ring?"

  Surprised that he remembered me, I only nodded.

  "What do you think I should do about the men coming up behind us?” he asked of me, as if I were someone worthy of giving an opinion on such circumstances.

  I shrugged. Had it been me, I would have darted for the nearest hole to escape through.

  He grinned.

  "Remember always, when one door in life is closed to you, it becomes necessary to find another."

  I had no idea what the Chevalier Remy meant. We had no doors left standing in these ruins, and he was fairly trapped within the walls of the villa. Only a rabbit, or a small boy, could squeeze through any openings to the outside world. Still, when he began to push his way around the bonfire's edge, pulling Josette in his wake, I followed at their heels.

  As we neared the throne, the last speaker had fallen silent. Now Jules raised his voice once m
ore.

  "Are there others who wish to speak on this night of tithing?"

  Slowing his pace, the Chevalier released his hold on Josette's hand and stepped out of the crowd. He threw back the hood on his cloak and made a sweeping bow toward the throne. As his head came up, he opened his mouth to speak, but the king beat him to it.

  "Ah, you've come at last."

  Remy paused for several heartbeats.

  I pushed my way to the front of the mob in order to see and hear all. The six ruffians moved up behind us.

  "You know me?” inquired Remy after a moment.

  "I do,” replied Jules, “but your name here is not important, Chevalier. It is your special talents I have need of."

  Remy stood stonefaced.

  The king sat back on his chair.

  I waited impatiently for Jules's next words.

  "Your recent past is no great secret to me, Chevalier. Your father's noble friends at court had convinced him to invest his entire family fortune in one of the many building projects so lately favored by our Roi Soleil."

  With the look of the fox about him, Jules continued.

  "As your father soon learned, our young Sun King is quite lavish with the money of others. But of course, bankruptcy is very hard on a noble name. It leaves you with no wealth, no status. At this point, your courtly friends quickly abandoned your family. A sad commentary on life, is it not?"

  "As you said before, this is no great secret."

  "Yes. Well, the revenge you take is what I find to be of interest."

  "Revenge?"

  "You're among fellow thieves, Chevalier. Here you may accept credit for your deeds. I find it enterprising that on evenings when your former friends were out socializing, you let yourself into their homes and relieved them from the burden of their wealth. After all, who would better know the inside of a noble's house than a man who had been there on many occasions?"

  "I see,” said Remy, “and these are talents of which you have need?"

  "I do."

  Josette leaned close to whisper in the Chevalier's ear.

  "How did you get into their houses?"

  Remy ignored her.

  "I suppose,” inquired Remy of the king, “you are the reason my old buyers will no longer purchase, shall we say, personal items of value recently come to my possession?"

  Jules stood and motioned with his hand.

  "Come sup at my table, Chevalier, and we shall discuss your future."

  "Somehow,” whispered Josette, “I don't see you walking the streets of Paris with ladder in hand to enter a second-story window."

  Remy stepped forward, past the now empty throne and on toward the long table behind it.

  Josette and I made to follow but were stopped by two of Jules's men. All we could do was wait and watch from a distance. For an hour we observed as the Chevalier and King Jules dined on roast of beef and other delicacies that I could only guess at, but the tantalizing aroma of food made my stomach unhappy to have been served only hard bread this night. When the table was cleared, the men drank wine poured from dusty glass bottles and talked for another hour. We could hear none of the conversation, except for a stray word or two. Not enough to piece together what one man wanted from the other. At last, Remy left the table and came our way.

  Josette spoke first. “What did he talk you into?"

  "Jules will allow me a free hand to sell the goods I steal, if I first break the Bookkeeper out of prison."

  She shook her head. “Impossible."

  "Perhaps, but in any case, I'll need your help..."

  "Me?"

  "...and that of the young pickpocket with the sore ears. King Jules has decided that I cannot leave these ruins until the job is completed. So, I need helpers and a place to stay."

  Remy strode away from the bonfire.

  I ignored the reference to my clumsy hands. Instead, my ego puffed up that I was to be a part of this mad scheme to free the Bookkeeper. Yet what could I possibly do? I was no hand with a sword and had never fired a pistol in my life. If Jules and the Chevalier were relying on me to help storm the prison, they had made a poor choice. I informed Remy of these thoughts, but he made no reply as the three of us made our way to the little room that Josette called home. Long ago she had rigged a scrap of canvas over the three remaining walls of what must've once been a small storeroom in an outbuilding. At least the structure kept out the rain and some of the wind.

  We were almost to her room when I heard footsteps behind us and turned. Loup and three others of Jules's men followed us at a short distance. I cleared my throat.

  "They are to ensure I don't try to leave before the job is done,” Remy said without looking back.

  "At least you know where they are,” was the only consolation I had to offer for my nobleman's predicament. He let that statement ride in the air between us.

  Two more steps, then Remy and I entered the space enclosed by the three walls. Josette hurried to build a small fire at the open end of the structure. Many were the previous nights I had dozed off in some half-protected recess in the rubble while gazing at the entrance into Josette's room, but this was the first I had been within these walls in any manner except for the dreams running through my mind. And now it seemed I was to share her with another man.

  "Tell me about the Bookkeeper,” said Remy as he sat on a large rock and gazed into the flames.

  "He came to us two years ago,” replied Josette. “A learned man in mathematics and science, he also dabbled in alchemy, which never seemed to work. Jules heard of his skill with numbers and engaged him to record our tithe payments. It soon became his job to figure out proper shares on stolen merchandise after the goods were fenced. We've always had to pay Jules, but at least with the Bookkeeper's records we got a straight deal. Not at all the way Jules cheats us now."

  "Where does Jules keep these records?"

  "On the table where you ate tonight, did you not see a thin red book a little smaller than your dinner plate? It rested near the king's left hand."

  Remy's face quickened with interest. “Why doesn't Jules use the book himself?"

  "He cannot read. He needs the Bookkeeper to decipher the notations inside. In the meantime, there are arguments and unrest between our underworld king and those who say he cheats us. If the situation isn't settled soon, Jules will have a revolution on his hands."

  "And I'm to save his hide."

  "How will you free the Bookkeeper?” asked Josette.

  "With false keys,” replied Remy, “the same way I entered the homes of my family's once friends."

  This conversation promised to become interesting. I had heard of false keys, but had never known anyone who used them. I carried up a flat rock for my seat between Remy and Josette.

  The two of them conversed into the night. Remy questioned Josette about the Bookkeeper, then on Jules and his men, and finally about any details concerning the prison. Twice she left the fire and brought back a thief or other criminal who had spent time in the prison and therefore knew its inner workings. I soon grew weary and fell asleep in the middle of the room.

  In the morning, I felt a rough shake on my shoulder and awoke to find Josette on my left and Remy on my right.

  "Get up,” said Remy, “I have an errand for you."

  I rubbed my eyes and sat.

  "You and Josette are going to visit the Bookkeeper this morning. Josette will play the part of his daughter deeply concerned about his welfare, and you will be his grandson. Jules has already provided us with a basket of bread and cheese and sausages, plus two bottles of wine for the guards."

  "I'm going to prison?"

  "Only for a short time,” replied Remy as he pushed a small flat square of candle wax into my hand. “Wrap this in a cloth and conceal it on your person. Then while you're in the prison, gently press this against the lock to the cell door. The impression will tell me the size of the key I need. No one will suspect a young lad like yourself of any mischief, but don't let anyone see yo
u do it. And be sure the wax impression doesn't become distorted on your way home."

  I nodded my understanding.

  Josette took my hand and we commenced our walk into the city. That morning was one of the most enjoyable of my life. The sun's rays were softer and the birds sang sweeter than any other day I'd known. With her at my side, I could've walked on air.

  And then we entered the prison. The next hour became a blur, and I know now that if it hadn't been for the warmth of Josette's hand holding mine, I'd have panicked more than I did. With my wildly moving eyes and nonresponses to their questions, the guards must've believed the Bookkeeper had sired a deaf and mute grandson. It was a part I ended up playing well and without prior practice.

  The return trip to the Buttes-Chaumont was not near as pleasant as the walk to the city. I breathed shallowly as if I'd just blundered out onto a steep precipice, teetered on the crumbling edge, and barely managed to step safely back before vertigo pulled me into the abyss. Prison was no place for me.

  In the villa, we found Remy waiting patiently for us as if he hadn't a care for the future, even though I saw Loup skulking in the background. When asked, I handed over the cloth-wrapped square of candle wax to Remy. The Chevalier examined the wax impression and seemed satisfied.

  He quickly gave me directions to the ironmonger's shop in the city and instructed me as to what I should say and do when I got there. The cloth-wrapped wax was pushed back into my hands.

  "This errand will require money,” I said.

  Remy looked at Josette. She turned her back and I heard the rustle of cloth and the clink of coin. When she turned around again, she held out her hand. Remy selected a few coins and placed them in my free hand. “Hurry,” was his last instruction.

  For the second time that day, I found myself on the road to Paris. Inside the city, I followed Remy's directions along the winding streets, across the bridge, and through the canyons of houses where each succeeding story was built slightly out over its lower occupant. Eaves of the taller houses almost blotted out the sun trying to shine down on the cobblestones and muddy thoroughfares.

  At the ironmonger's shop, I found my man and said my piece. He examined the wax impression and merely grunted. Wax in hand, he inspected several key blanks scattered on his workbench, chose one of the blanks, then took it over to the forge. I sat on a log and watched him work. In short time, he lay down his hammer, cooled the metal in a bucket of water, and brought the key to me. He held out his empty palm. I gave up the few coins Remy had received from Josette. In turn, the ironmonger handed me the still warm and uncut key.