The Tapestry of Time

Chapter 5-1

The bewhiskered man, as he had the previous evening, invited Baudet to sit at his table. Three other men, and Criou, made up the card school.

“Ale, landlord!” He called, his black beard twitching and glistening in the light from the fire. With tankards replenished, he shuffled the Grimaud pack of cards that had gripped Baudet’s imagination with their mysterious illuminations created, no doubt, by masterly artists.

“We’re playing vingt-et-un tonight, as we do every night. He pronounced the name of the game, vingt… et… un, solemnly, for his guest’s edification.

vingt-et-un vingt… et… un, “Watch carefully, you’ll soon understand the rules and I might even allow you to join us in a hand or two. Mind you, I’m assuming you have funds upon your person? By that, I mean money.” His cronies burst into laughter, banging their tankards on the table. Criou remained still, his deep blue eyes moving from one man to the next, not unlike a wily beast deciding the best tactic before pouncing. His shrewd appreciation of the game belied his tender years. The table fell calm as the hirsute banker ceremoniously shuffled the deck again and dealt each player his first card. They viewed its value, holding it close to their chest then, after serious deliberation, placed one or more coins down, anticipating a second deal on which they either increased their bet, or not. The banker, intentionally, ignored Baudet who, by his tightly pursed lips and screwed eyes, was confused by what he saw and it was Criou who spoke to him quietly: “Keep your money safe in your purse.”

“Why?”

“Because they are thickheads, but they well know how to cheat.”

Grateful for this timely warning, Baudet sat still and merely observed the game. After several hands, Criou had more than doubled his stakes and, throwing a coin towards the banker, out of courtesy, ushered his new friend to another table.

“What! Leaving the game so soon, Criou? No doubt you’ll give us a chance to recoup our losses sometime?”

“No doubt,” came the curt reply.

Extending a hand, the man introduced himself: “I’m Criou, from Le Panier.”

Baudet’s ears pricked up at the mention of the district whose name seemed to be occurring frequently.

“You’re a stranger, certainly to vingt-et-un.”

.“Is it obvious?”

“It is.” Criou smiled and raised his tankard in a toast.

“So, I don’t get the game but, tell me, how is it you’ve come away on the winning side?”

Criou’s smile widened, revealing even white teeth. “It’s simple,” he began, “they like to think they are skilful but not so. It’s easy to read their hands, even with the cards face down. You see, they are predictable morons and, believe me, in my life I’ve come up against better opponents than these!”

“That’s good to know.” Baudet was grateful he had not been drawn into a dangerous situation and he continued softly: “My thanks to you, Criou.” He drank some ale then said: “Father Philippe from the Saint Laurent church welcomed me to Marseilles yesterday.”

“Philippe, yes, he’s a good man but, whenever I come across him, he goes on and on with that Bible nonsense – at least, it’s nonsense to me. I live by my own rules, not someone else’s.”

“And what’s your trade?”

“Trade! I wouldn’t exactly describe it as a trade.” He eyed Baudet hard, up and down, and, deciding his new acquaintance was a man to be trusted, he elucidated: “How should I put it..? I relieve the rich and privileged of the goods, chattels and coins that they don’t need and, therefore, will not miss. I suppose I’m an apprentice for my job because I never stop learning.”

tradeBaudet’s expression initially showed complete confusion until it dawned on him: “You mean you’re a thief?”

thief“Hey! Less of that, my friend!”

Baudet at last understood. “I have left Vordan, a sheltered innocent place where crime is uncommon but this is the real world.” He frowned and asked: “Do you commit burglaries?”

“I have left Vordan, a sheltered innocent place where crime is uncommon but this is the real world.” “No, but I’m a real master when it comes to slipping my hand into a pocket or money pouch. Would you join me? Two heads are better than one and I’d divide the pickings 50-50.” He grinned and smacked his lips to back up his words.

The proposal rocked Baudet back in his chair. “What on earth? This Criou person is an unknown yet he’s revealing his secrets to me and, from what I understand and can remember from Sunday morning masses in our church, taking anything illegally from another is contrary to the verses of the Bible. I could not possibly accept his proposition of a partnership in crime!”

“What on earth? This Criou person is an unknown yet he’s revealing his secrets to me and, from what I understand and can remember from Sunday morning masses in our church, taking anything illegally from another is contrary to the verses of the Bible. I could not possibly accept his proposition of a partnership in crime!”For what seemed an eternity, he avoided eye contact with Criou, instead staring into his tankard whence the words from Ephesians came into his head, mysteriously telling him:

“Let the thief no longer steal, but rather let him labour, doing honest work with his own hands, so that he may have something to share with anyone in need.”

“Let the thief no longer steal, but rather let him labour, doing honest work with his own hands, so that he may have something to share with anyone in need.”Just then Criou, as if he was able to read his thoughts, went on to explain: “Do you think that I keep their valuables for myself, for I sense that’s what you’ve decided.?”

Baudet did not answer.

“No, my friend. Have you heard of Robin of Loxley?”

“No.”

“Well I’ve overheard sailors from the kingdom of England relate the legend in the taverns. Robin was an outlaw, a man forced to live with his band of followers, deep in the forest, for there was a bounty on his head, set by the evil Sheriff of Nottingham who was, in turn, an officer of King John. Do you want to know why I’m telling you this? Well, Robin stole and he was, therefore, a thief but he stole only from the rich and then gave it to the poor and needy of Nottingham.”

“To share with anyone in need,” the words from the Epistle to the Ephesians ran through Baudet’s head.

“To share with anyone in need,” Criou went on, “That’s what I try to do. I keep a small amount back to pay for my mother’s care.”

“It’s wrong nonetheless,” Baudet pondered and he then asked, out of politeness: “Is she sick?”

“It’s wrong nonetheless,” “Indeed, she is. The plague landed on Marseilles just a couple of years before I was born and although mother survived, unlike thousands of others, the disease entered her body and never went away. As far as I can remember, she caught every illness going around and took to her bed, sometimes for days on end. My father refused to tend her so it fell to me, do you see?” With these words his face clouded over and he bowed his head.

There was, evidently, something about his father that was painful and Baudet had to ask: “Why was your father thus, if you don’t think me impudent?”

Criou looked up, his features softening again, and he answered: “It’s a matter I don’t often discuss – especially with foreigners…”

Baudet suppressed a wry smile at being described in this way,

“But it does me good from time to time and you seem like an honest man.”

Again, Baudet enjoyed his new-found friend’s appreciation of him.

“From my earliest days, as a young child, whenever I saw him in the house he would shout, swear, accuse, and threaten her. He never laid a finger on me, though. Usually, the shouting was followed by him slapping and punching her, huddled in a corner, her arms over her face, trying to protect herself. I kept quiet, believe me, because he would have beaten me as well if…” He took a draught of ale and looked up at the other man, whose attention he had seized. His voice then, and for the first time, faltered and tears were in his eyes as he continued: “When I was 15 or 16, I’d grown from a boy into a man. I was tall and strong and one evening, when he stumbled through the door after a day’s drinking in the taverns and immediately ranted on, bawling that his supper wasn’t on the table, I started to see red. I’d witnessed mother’s a***e for long enough and I knew it was time to stand up to him.”

“This is such a powerful story – Criou is a cut above the rest, that’s for sure.”

“This is such a powerful story – Criou is a cut above the rest, that’s for sure.”“Can you imagine the scene, Baudet?”

Baudet nodded his head, staring at him with wide open eyes, enthralled and overcome by the passion of his tale.

“‘Leave her alone! I’m warning you…’ I ordered, and father rose from the table, slowly but staggering, and came towards me. His face pressed close to mine, with his foul-smelling breath, he slurred, with anger in his voice: ‘What did you say, boy?’

“‘Leave her alone! I’m warning you…’‘What did you say, boy?’“I pulled back my shoulders, hoping I was as intimidating to him as he was to me. No retreating now, the moment to defend mother had come. I screamed at him: ‘I said for you to leave her alone!’ He recoiled one pace and, to my surprise, began to laugh, but it was out of disbelief for my audacity – nobody had challenged him in his own house and the laughter turned into a derisive smile.

‘I said for you to leave her alone!’“‘How dare you!’ He raised a clenched fist but, before he could strike, I punched him hard on the chin, at which he howled in pain. This was followed by more blows to his head then into his abdomen. I hit him again until he fell to the floor in a crumpled heap. All this time, mother watched, neither able or desirous of halting my attack.

‘How dare you!’“I stood over this pathetic, whimpering man, quite ready to carry on, but he looked up, his bloodied figure cut and swollen, and pleaded: ‘Stop! Stop! What do you want of me?’ “‘Mother will no longer have to endure your brutal treatment. You live in the drinking houses of Marseilles, not here, and you haven’t done anything to care for me or her. We want nothing more to do with you. Leave us in peace and, if you ever return, I’ll finish off the job once and for all – I hope that’s clear!’

‘Stop! Stop! What do you want of me?’ “‘Mother will no longer have to endure your brutal treatment. You live in the drinking houses of Marseilles, not here, and you haven’t done anything to care for me or her. We want nothing more to do with you. Leave us in peace and, if you ever return, I’ll finish off the job once and for all – I hope that’s clear!’“Father didn’t argue. He took his cape off the hook behind the door, left, and was gone from our lives. Mother thanked me for what I’d done but the years of beatings and the plague had left her weak and bedridden. I care for her as best I can and, you now understand why I’m forced to be Criou of Marseilles, not Robin of Loxley.”