Den of Thieves

by Julia Golding

  Our captain was a taciturn man but he evidently liked having young people about. His own son had gone into the navy and he spent too many hours alone with no one but his dog for company. At first he divided tasks as he thought best, me to do the cooking and J-F to help about the boat, but when he found I was more skilled at managing the tow ropes than the kitchen, there was a rearrangement of roles to everyone’s mutual benefit. J-F cooked some wonderful stews, rich with herbs and garlic, which with the accompaniment of some fresh bread made a feast truly fit for kings.

  But as the days passed a question still hung unresolved between J-F and me: what exactly was going on between us? Was the pleasure we took in each other’s company just the result of a holiday – a bubble of emotion that would burst at the first prick of reality? I was amazed at how fickle I was! First confused by Syd’s kiss, then languishing hopelessly for Johnny, now wondering about the feelings of a funny-looking French boy with a personality so intriguing that it became harder and harder to think I’d have to leave him so soon.

  It wasn’t as if the prospect of returning to London was so very alluring: all my friends away and only my enemies waiting for me.

  ‘How will I get back to England?’ I asked J-F one evening as the bargeman snored gently in his hammock. We were nearing the Channel port of Le Havre and I needed to make plans for the next stage of my journey.

  ‘Are you sure you want to go back, Cat?’ he asked, blowing a plume of smoke into the air from his pipe. He swore the fumes kept the mosquitoes at bay but I suspected he was merely trying to impress me.

  ‘Where else can I go? It’s my home.‘

  ‘You could stay in France – with me.’ He glanced at my face to see how I took the casual invitation. I didn’t know if he could tell, but my heart was thumping: was this the declaration I had been expecting? I was suddenly no longer sure I wanted to hear it. ‘Every court needs a queen,’ he concluded.

  ‘You have plenty of candidates,’ I said, trying to turn the remark light-heartedly. ‘Annette, Marie – either of them would make a worthy companion. If I were you I’d choose Marie – she’s a natural leader.’

  ‘True.’ He sucked on his pipe stem.

  ‘And I’d be a burden: you’d have to get me out of difficulties all the time.’

  ‘Yes, you would be trouble: I’m sure of that. Perhaps that’s why I’m asking you to stay.’

  This seemed less than wholehearted. I needed more.

  ‘I don’t know, J-F. I’m hardly welcome in Paris at the moment – I can’t really stay, can I?’

  J-F paused. ‘I suppose not.’

  Having wanted him to agree and endorse my decision to go, I now felt annoyed that he had. Did he not care enough to make more fuss about my imminent departure? Or did he just feel too much and not want to risk revealing it: a display of weakness was fatal to someone in his position. He’d probably forgotten how to show anyone he needed them.

  My confusion made my next words too brisk. ‘Well, in that case, I’d better get myself back home where I’ll be no trouble.’

  J-F shook his head. ‘I can’t believe that.’

  ‘Can’t believe what?’

  ‘You – no trouble. It follows you like a tail does a cat.’

  I had to laugh: he was right, of course. I wasn’t leaving trouble behind but heading right into a new storm involving Billy Shepherd, some stolen stories and a playhouse reduced to rubble. I didn’t relish the thought of facing that alone.

  ‘Why don’t you come with me, J-F? Come and see London for yourself.’

  He sat down beside me and put his arm around my shoulders. ‘I can’t. I’d be a fish out of water. You wouldn’t like me any more if you saw me like that.’

  ‘Who says I like you now?’ I prodded him in the ribs. ‘You told the bishop I meant nothing to you: you see, I haven’t forgotten.’

  ‘I wish you would.’

  Silence fell between us: it was a moment that could have gone in any direction – to a kiss, to a joke, to an argument even. It was J-F who broke the spell, turning to practical matters.

  ‘There’s no need to worry, Cat: I promise I’ll get you home even if I do have to pass up the chance to see your city. I have a useful contact who should be able to get you into England – and he’ll do so without alerting our authorities to your regrettable desire to quit these shores.’

  Once again, I felt disappointed that J-F hadn’t tried harder to persuade me to stay – but part of me was also relieved. I attempted to match his practical turn of mind. ‘Oh yes? What kind of contact?’

  ‘A privateer. I help him – how shall we say? – distribute his wares.’

  ‘A smuggler!’

  ‘Why so shocked? I’m hardly likely to know the town priest, am I?’

  ‘No, I suppose not. But is he to be trusted?’

  ‘If you were on your own, not a bit – you’d end up in the white slave trade in the Levant – but with me of course!’

  ‘And where do we meet this charming individual?’

  ‘I’ve sent a message ahead. If he’s in port, he’ll wait for us at a certain house we both know.’

  ‘You’re sure about this plan, are you?’

  ‘Sure? On my mother’s honour.’

  Not having met his mother, I wasn’t sure if this was a reassuring pledge. How virtuous were mermaids? In any case, I was sorry to bid farewell to my quiet berth on the barge which had given us the chance to linger in this period of indecision. Now I was to commit myself to depart, swapping the gentle waters of the Seine for an uncertain welcome on board a smuggler’s vessel.

  *

  ‘I should warn you,’ I muttered to J-F as we made our way through the grimy backstreets of Le Havre, ‘I’m a truly terrible sailor.’

  ‘At least your misery will be brief. The Medici is the fastest little vessel in the business,’ he said with a complete lack of sympathy.

  J-F pushed open the door of a low looking tavern. The air was full of smoke. Guttural voices argued in the fog. Dice rattled on the table as coins changed hands. Undeterred, J-F made his way to the bar. Heads turned. I felt all eyes examine us, doubtless gauging the depth of our purse and the depravity of our characters. Rather unflatteringly, we passed the inspection and no one tried to interfere with us.

  J-F rapped on the bar with a coin.

  ‘Yes, sweetheart?’ asked the barmaid, her false curls jiggling with a life of their own as she swung round to greet us.

  ‘Mademoiselle, is Monsieur Bonaventure within?’ He left the coin on the counter.

  The barmaid’s eyes flicked down to it and it disappeared into her pocket with admirable swiftness. ‘Your luck’s in, darling. He’s through there.’ She jerked her head to the back room. ‘Says he’s waiting for a big man from Paris but you might be able to catch a few minutes with him.’

  J-F smiled to himself as we headed through the door.

  ‘Big man? Have you and he ever actually met?’ I whispered, feeling slightly panicky.

  J-F shook his head. ‘Not until today.’

  I followed him anxiously into the dark inner chamber. A man sat in the corner by the fire, feet up on a stool, hat pulled over his eyes. A pipe glowed in his fingers.

  ‘We meet at last,’ said J-F, knocking the hat off the man’s head familiarly. ‘How’s business?’

  The man jumped to his feet, fists clenched, glaring at us in fury. He had a shock of white-blonde hair tied back in a scarlet ribbon and a dark blue silk jacket. Dressed like this, I guessed business wasn’t treating him so bad.

  ‘Who the hell are you?’ he growled.

  J-F bowed. ‘Jean-François Thiland, king of the thieves of the Palais Royal, at your service.’

  The man rubbed his eyes. ‘Is this a joke?’

  J-F looked offended. ‘What proof do you require, monsieur? You and I have dealt through intermediaries on numerous occasions. Do I need to remind you of that cargo of porcelain that I helped you shift last month? Or the Spanish wine that myster
iously fell in your path only twelve days ago?’

  Our sea captain shook his head, half in disbelief. ‘It is you, you devil! Pleased to meet you. I’d heard you were young but . . . well, enough said.’ He seized J-F’s hand and pumped it up and down. ‘Take a seat – have some refreshment! Madeleine! Madeleine! Bring my guests some supper!’ Monsieur Bonaventure now turned to me. ‘And who is this young lady?’

  J-F took a seat on the stool. ‘The package I mentioned in my message. She needs to return to her native land without the involvement of our beloved authorities.’

  ‘Mademoiselle, I am honoured to be of service.’ Bonaventure motioned me to a chair.

  ‘Thank you, monsieur.’

  I watched from the shadows as J-F and Bonaventure discussed their mutual business interests over a bowl of soup, washed down with harsh red wine. The privateer drank deeply; J-F barely touched the stuff. I was glad, because I had rapidly decided that Bonaventure was totally unreliable. I noticed that his eyes slid to me from time to time as he tried to work out who I was and why J-F was going to the considerable bother of helping me escape France.

  ‘Mademoiselle, you are very quiet,’ Bonaventure said after a lull in the conversation.

  ‘I have nothing to say, monsieur.’

  ‘What?’ he chuckled. ‘I can’t believe that! You look a lively one – those green eyes of yours don’t miss a trick, I’ll wager. Don’t think I haven’t noticed you watching me all evening. I imagine there’s all sorts of thoughts swirling around in that pretty head of yours – few of them flattering to me.’

  ‘You may be right, monsieur.’

  ‘I know damn well I’m right.’ He leant closer to J-F. ‘She’s trouble this one, isn’t she? Too sharp for her own good. If you want to get rid of her, I know someone who’ll take her off your hands.’

  J-F smiled enigmatically. ‘That won’t be necessary.’

  ‘No?’ He drained his wine. ‘So what’s to stop me handing her over and getting the reward myself?’ His tone was light, but it carried an edge of a threat.

  ‘Just the little matter of the information about your activities that I’ve left with a reliable contact in Paris,’ said J-F with matching levity. ‘If I don’t send word that all’s well, this person is instructed to cast unwelcome light on your – how can I put it? – less than legitimate business dealings.’

  Bonaventure gave a false laugh. ‘That’s good. Just testing, just testing. Right then, now we understand each other, let’s get under way.’

  J-F and Bonaventure drained their tankards and we set off for the port. The Medici was moored at the furthest point from the custom house, looking as inconspicuous as possible behind a smart sloop. In contrast to her neighbour, the ship was in a sorry state, paint peeling and the figure-head worn to an anonymous blank – nothing to catch the eye or make her stand out as worthy of closer inspection, just as Bonaventure wanted, no doubt.

  The crew of the Medici lived up to my expectations. It looked as though Bonaventure had trawled the taverns in the most disreputable ports of the world and netted a crew of all nations. A one-eyed Chinaman showed me to my cabin, taking me past a silent African manning the wheel with surly ill-humour. Only J-F’s confidence persuaded me to place our fate in the hands of this captain.

  ‘How far are you coming with me?’ I asked J-F as the vessel slipped its moorings.

  ‘Until I see you safely home. Captain Bonaventure is a man of many talents but honesty is not one of them.’

  I tried to ignore the feeling of nausea that gripped me as soon as we left the protection of the harbour.

  ‘I won’t forget what you’ve done for me, J-F.’

  ‘And nor shall I. Some day, you might be able to return me the favour. Now tell me more about this Billy Shepherd you mentioned: he sounds like someone I might be able to do business with.’

  Our crossing was mercifully smooth. We headed west to confuse any pursuit before turning for England. Unlike the interminable first passage, it seemed no time at all before we saw the white cliffs of Dover glimmering rosy-white in the light of the rising sun. J-F stood beside me as we watched them grow closer.

  ‘Our captain wishes to put you ashore by rowing boat to avoid the . . . er . . . formalities of docking in the harbour. He says he knows a quiet cove not far from Dover.’

  ‘I bet he does.’

  ‘This is also as far as I go. I have a kingdom to rule and I know all too well the dangers of leaving it for too long – after all, that’s how I took over from the last king. Grandfather will be keeping an eye but still, there’s always someone wanting to fill my shoes.’

  I knew I had a last chance to change my mind, to risk a new life in France, but my instinct was telling me that this was the parting of the ways – for now, at least.

  ‘Thanks, J-F, for everything.’ I kissed him French-style on the cheeks in farewell.

  He bowed over my hand, English-style. ‘So you really are going back?’ He sounded genuinely regretful.

  I nodded.

  ‘In that case, mademoiselle, it has been a pleasure.’ He paused, then, making up his mind, pulled something from his pocket. ‘Here: I have a little souvenir for you. From what you tell me of your predicament, you may find it useful. I got it thanks to you, so it’s yours really.’

  He put in my hand a hard object wrapped in a silk handkerchief.

  ‘What is it?’

  ‘Open it and see, you silly goose.’

  I took off the cloth and saw a diamond-encrusted letter opener, engraved with the crest of the French royal family.

  ‘I liberated it from the king’s bedroom the day I was following you. I thought, as a letter writer, you might appreciate it.’

  I was almost speechless. ‘J-F, you know what you’ve given me, don’t you?’

  He nodded. ‘Yes, the key to your ball and chain. I hope you enjoy the moment of your freedom, Cat. I’m just sorry I won’t be there to see it.’

  SCENE 2 – A PROMISE KEPT

  Frank returned with his parents to London some days after my own arrival home. He reported that Johnny and Lizzie had been married at the beginning of August, while J-F and I were sailing down the Seine, and then had been safely escorted on board a vessel bound for America. I was sad to have missed the wedding; it had been a quiet affair as they wished, performed by the English chaplain to the Embassy. I could imagine some of it: Johnny immensely proud, Lizzie still pale from her illness but steady-voiced as she said her vows. There had been no bridesmaids – Lizzie had said she wanted no one else but me and, as I was not available, she was not going to settle for second best.

  ‘Did she really say that?’ I asked Frank again as we sat in his carriage rattling through London one morning in early September.

  ‘Yes she did, Cat.’ Frank smiled at my desire to hear his sister’s words again. ‘No one else would do.’

  ‘She needn’t have done that.’

  ‘No, she need not, but that was what she really felt. Johnny backed her to the hilt despite Papa’s attempts to persuade her otherwise.’

  I gave a smile of satisfaction which only faded as we approached our destination.

  ‘Are you sure you don’t want me to come in with you?’ Frank asked anxiously as the carriage drew up outside a familiar black and white doorway.

  I drew on my silk gloves – a present from the duchess, as was my gown. ‘No thanks, Frank. You’d better not get involved. It’s best that it’s just him and me.’

  Frank grimaced. ‘Shame. I’d like to be there.’

  ‘I promise a full report when I emerge.’ Joseph opened the door to hand me out. ‘If I don’t return in half an hour, send in the heavies.’ Frank had thoughtfully brought along all the footmen from my temporary home in Grosvenor Square to act as insurance.

  Feeling apprehensive but also slightly reckless, I knocked on the front door of Billy Shepherd’s house.

  ‘Yes?’ enquired the butler.

  ‘Is your master within?’

&nb
sp; ‘Who shall I say is calling?’

  ‘Catherine Royal.’

  The butler bowed me into the hallway. Standing on the chequered tiles as my arrival was reported, I turned J-F’s knife over and over in my hand, looking forward to the moment when I could put it to its intended purpose.

  ‘Mr Shepherd awaits you above,’ said the butler, showing me upstairs. I slipped the letter knife into my pocket as he ushered me into the white room I remembered from my most recent encounter with my least favourite gang leader.

  ‘Ah, Cat! Returned from your travels, ’ave you?’ Billy strode towards me, his arms open almost as if he was intending to embrace me. I stepped to one side, placing one of his fancy tables between us. He turned the gesture into a flourish of his hands, prelude to a mocking bow. ‘I’ve missed you, but I’m glad you’ve not forgotten our little agreement.’

  ‘How could I?’ I noticed that the room had gathered more objets d’art in my absence, including a marble statue of a goddess in the Greek style. ‘I see you couldn’t afford the arms then?’

  He smiled. ‘Yeah, I was robbed, amount I paid for that hussy and she comes short of a thing or too. But not you.’ He looked at me admiringly. ‘See you’ve fallen on your feet again, coming to me all wrapped up in silk and satin. Just the present I most wanted. So, what’s it to be? I’ve got lots of room for a girl like you in my operations.’ He flicked open a pocket notebook, checking on the state of his empire. ‘’Ow about taking over the girls in St Giles? They need a lot of watchin’ to check they don’t ’old back their earnings.’

  ‘That’s not for me, Billy,’ I smiled sweetly.

  ‘Now, now, Cat,’ he said, wagging his finger at me. ‘I can’t ’ave you lazin’ about the place all day. Everyone earns their keep.’

  ‘I’m not going to do anything for you at all.’