The King of Thieves: by Michael Jecks Page B

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Chapter Seven
    Louvre, Paris
    The Procureur was a clearly recognisable figure as he scurried from the front gate of the Louvre and out into the lane that
     led from the King’s greatest château to the city’s gates.
    It was an inviolable rule that a bastion of defence like the Louvre should always be secure from the city which it was set
     to defend. In any city there were occasional uprisings, and the castle must stand impregnable.
    These were the last thoughts on the man’s mind, though, as he followed after the Procureur.
    The follower, Jacquot, was a slender man, his frame permanently weakened after the famine ten years before. He had not been
     able to rebuild his health after that. In fact, sweet Jesus, it was a miracle he was alive at all. All the others were dead,
     may their souls rest easy. Poor darling Maria, and Louisa, Jacques and little Frou-Frou, all had died. Only he remained out
     of his entire family.
    It was only a matter of luck that he had survived. Jacquot had been on the road from Albi, trudging miserably northwards in
     the rain, when he had come across a pair of bodies. At that time, there were bodies all over the place. Men and women simply
     sank to their knees and died, no matter where they were. They’d topple over in the road, and people would barely give them
     a glance. No one had the energy to help them, and no one cared for them. What was one moreman or woman’s pain and misery to someone who’d already lost everything? So bodies were left where they lay, unless they were
     fortunate enough to die in a city which still had a little respect for itself and hoped that the famine would end.
    Jacquot had at least seen to the burial of his own. They had all been installed in consecrated ground, his wife being interred
     under the supervision of the priest. Sadly, by the time Louisa died, the priest himself had expired, and from that moment,
     Jacquot himself dug the graves and set his children inside, one after the other, all at the feet of his wife’s body. After
     burying Jacques, there was no point in remaining. He had taken his staff and left the cottage, not even closing the door.
     There was nothing to be stolen. He had nothing.
    But on that road he had seen the two bodies, and found himself studying them as though seeing corpses for the first time.
     It made some sort of connection with his soul. His own children and wife were dead, and now these two sorry souls lay before
     him. Suddenly, without knowing why, he began to sob. Great gouts of misery burst from his breast like vomit. The convulsions
     would not leave him. He was reduced to standing, leaning on the staff and bawling like a babe.
    And then, when it was done, he found he could not move on. It was hard enough to walk on the level, and impossible to think
     of lifting a foot so high that he might step over them. At the same time his starved brain could not conceive of passing around
     them. Instead he stood, transfixed. And gradually a degree of determination returned.
    If the King could not provide food, it was up to him to find food for himself. If God would not provide food, it was up to
     him to seek it. He had been a decent, fair man in his life. When he had money, he had been generous. All those whom he loved
     had felt the advantage of his largesse. But now he was brought to his knees. There was nothing for him to do but die, unlesshe took life in both hands and wrung a living from it. There was no point meandering onwards, hoping to find some food. Even
     the monasteries had little enough to share amongst the thousands who clamoured at their gates.
    This conclusion had just reached him when he saw a small building not more than a few hundred yards away. Without quite knowing
     why, he made for it. Beyond, he saw a wall, and in the wall was a broad gate. He found it was unlocked. Inside was a small
     farm, with a woman toiling in the fields. The rain was falling in a perpetual stream, and her ankles and calves