Jean’s gloved hand grabs hold of the old Verdigris coated bronze door knocker, banging it three times. After hearing some movement inside, a bolt is drawn back, then the door opens just wide enough for a red, rheumy eye to peep out. Without waiting, Jean hurls the door back, sending the eye’s owner flying backward.
As he steps inside, Jean sees the pawnbroker, a scruffy, skinny, miserly figure has collided with one of the shop’s supporting column’s and lies in a heap, his long, lank, mousy hair falling free from the cap he was wearing. He looks up fearfully at Jean and Raoul, watching as they enter to walk around, inspecting the slovenly, junk-filled premises. Raoul continues to handle and examine cheap objects while Jean comes over and hunches down in front of the pawnbroker, slowly removing his gloves.
‘Do you know why we’re here? A certain Cherbourg banker is rather concerned why his business partner has not sent any money, neither with or without the interest payments agreed on, for some time. Your partner is so concerned he has asked us to come around and see if everything is well with you. Are you well?’
The pawnbroker, eyes wide, can only nod his head, his words stuck in his throat.
‘Then why are you shaking?’ Jean asks.
Raoul notices a lunch of fresh bread, various cheeses, fruit and vegetables sat on the table toward the back of the shop. ‘You’re having lunch?’ he calls. ‘Do you mind?’
The pawnbroker shakes his head and looks away. Raoul pulls up a chair and breaks a bread roll in half, gesturing to Jean with one of the pieces. ‘I love the texture of fresh bread.’
Jean rises to join Raoul at the table, helping himself to his piece of bread. Nodding favourably, he turns back to the pawnbroker. ‘Your partner was concerned you might have hit hard times, but from this food, I can see he misunderstood your position. So, to be sure there are no misunderstandings, and as a show of good faith, perhaps he could see some of that loan you owe.’
The pawnbroker replaces his cap and hurries to his feet, diving into the back room. Jean and Raoul look at each other as the clatter of searching commences. A few moments later, the pawnbroker, breathless, returns with a valuable bronze figurine. ‘This is worth quite a bit. I have no cash at the moment, but if you present this to him, he will see it is worth more than the loan.’
Jean examines the figurine. ‘I’ll see if he will accept this compromise.’
The pawnbroker wipes sweat from his forehead awkwardly, running his fingers through his thin hair. ‘I just want you to know how sorry I am, things got a bit messed up. You can tell him.’
They rise on finishing the lunch, heading toward the door. The pawnbroker relieved they are leaving. As they reach the door, Jean turns back, his voice mocking, ‘Perhaps you should deposit the rest of your stash in a bank, it may be safer there.’
***
Two louts notice Jean and Raoul leave the pawnbrokers. Just as Raoul covers up the bronze figurine with a cloth, the low, late afternoon sun shines on the figurine, fooling the louts, making it appear golden in the glow. The louts squint and their eyes light up in excitement. ‘Look at that. Is it gold?’ The taller blurts out in a thick, rough accent, ‘Let’s follow them.’
His mate’s more cautious. ‘No. They look well able to handle themselves.’
‘That gold could set us up for life. Come on.’
His mate’s still not sure. ‘No, I’ve had enough. Let’s be sensible, we’re taking too many chances lately. Let’s find something easier.’
‘Let’s take them! We’re almost destitute! I’m starving! It’s got to be worth the chance,’ he argues, determination on his face. ‘They’re heading toward the docks. We can get them down there, we’ll have the element of surprise.’ He grabs his mate’s arm impatiently and pulls him along.
Jean and Raoul move toward the docks area in deep conversation. Jean stops while discussing the differences found in England to Raoul. Each time they stop, the two louts cautiously following at a distance, have to stop in time with them.
‘The thing with England is all the little differences. Like us, but different.’ His shoulders raise in a shrug. ‘The ale is different. Flavoured more with heather.’
‘Anything like our cider?’ asks Raoul.
‘I believe there are similarities.’
They continue their walk. The two villains nudge each other and hurry after them, waiting for the right opportunity.
‘How about the English maiden’s uncle? Are they friendly?’ he asks in an amused voice. ‘Would I find one to compose songs for?’
They stop again, Jean amused this time, Raoul expectant.
The two robbers stop, put off their step.
Jean has something further to say to Raoul. ‘There is more to our assignment. We are also to escort an English lady staying here at finishing school back to her home in London.’
‘Oh. Learning what?’ Raoul asks with a soft, curious laugh.
‘I don’t know. Learning ladies things, I suppose. Dance, music, books, sewing, those sorts of things.’
They move on again, the louts impatiently following. Suddenly, Raoul, stops yet again, holding out the covered figurine to stop Jean. The robbers, watching it like a cat watching a mouse are a bit closer.
‘Then I will find out how friendly English ladies can be.’ Raoul declares grandiosely. ‘What’s her name?’
‘Roselyn. And don’t get involved if that’s what you’re thinking. She is of higher birth so keep away,’ Jean warns with a mocking tone to his voice.
Raoul laughs affably. ‘We can make sweet music together, I’ll keep her company, make sure she doesn’t get lonely,’ Jean shakes his head. ‘If you play with fire you’ll get burnt. Ask your father.’
Jean continues walking, Raoul stands watching him a moment then calls after him, ‘We have to take care of her!’
The taller robber gets nearer to Raoul, drawing out a small dagger, about to take his chance. Just as he reaches Raoul and is about to make a grab for the figurine, Raoul shrugs his shoulders and follows Jean. This movement causes the robber to stumble into Raoul, who turns defensively and sees the dagger. Raoul easily hits his assailant on the wrist with the figurine, disarming him and in a second, flings him head first into the water. Jean, hearing the commotion, quickly turns. He rushes up to the remaining robber who, looking on, is stood rigid with fear and grabs him by the throat. ‘I once beheaded two villains with one sword stroke. I can still do it.’
Taking the robber by the collar and seat of his pants, Jean hurls him into the water after his mate. Jean laughs and turns to Raoul, ‘They planned that badly. What are they?’
Raoul stands at the wharf edge, laughing as he shakes a finger at the spluttering robbers, ‘A pair of fools!’
***
In contrast to the pawnbrokers, the apothecary store they visit next is clean and orderly. Boxes and sacks have been neatly stacked after being offloaded from ships on the nearby wharf. The owner, elderly, his sharp forehead above a straight, long nose and tidy in appearance, is busy showing Jean his latest arrivals.
‘This opium has recently arrived from North India,’ he speaks in a warm voice. ‘It compares to the Silk Road variety equally favourably, so it’s all down to price.’
Jean feels the texture of the produce, flares his nostrils as he has a good sniff. ‘I don’t notice any difference.’
‘You won’t. It’s just as effective though. And I can get more a lot easier this year,’ he answers with a brief tilt of his head.
‘Are they your usual suppliers?’
‘To be sure, same as usual,’ he nods agreeably. ‘Well trusted. They’ve never let me down as you well know.’
Jean easily decides. ‘Right. I’ll take two ounces.’ He places a hand on some herbs he has previously selected. ‘Along with these other things.’
The apothecary prepares his scales.