Vermilion ~ Fourteen: Thief

[annarti.livejournal.com]

The afternoon play, like the one that morning, was intended for adults. It was boring, full of talking and a little bit of shouting. The adults watching laughed a little bit, but the group of children who sat at the front were bored.

The carpenter’s daughter sat cross-legged, one elbow on her knee so her hand could support her head. Her other hand held a twig that she used to trace around the edges of the cobblestones, cleaning dirt and weeds from between the stones.

The boy beside her, the son of one of the workers in the vineyard, nudged her in the ribs with his elbow. She glanced up to see the line of children creeping along the front row of the audience, quietly escaping the boring adults’ play. The carpenter’s daughter glanced briefly at the players, momentarily feeling sorry for them, but really, if they had wanted the children to stay they would have made their play funnier. At that thought, she scampered off after her friends.

‘Friends’ was perhaps a strong word. She wanted them to be her friends, but she always felt a bit left out, like there was always some joke made at her expense that she didn’t understand. But her mother and father had told her to make friends in this new town, and so she stuck around this group of six, hoping that if she hung around for long enough they would start to like her.

‘Hurry up!’ the vineyard worker’s son called in a harsh whisper. He was always the friendliest of the group, always pulling her in to participate. He had a cheeky grin on his face now, which the carpenter’s daughter returned. That grin always meant they had a fun plan ready to go.

The group gathered in one of the narrow streets off the main square, crouched and grinning up at her as she arrived.

‘I’ve got an idea,’ the eldest of the group announced. He was apprenticed to the cobbler, the only one of them to have a real job, though he didn’t get paid for it yet. ‘With all these nobles here, and all of them distracted by the players, we can pick their pockets.’

The kids all looked so eager, so excited, that the girl could only grin and share in their enthusiasm. She was scared, though. Stealing was wrong. Even if the nobles did have lots of money, it was their right to have it. They were nobles, and nobles had money, that was just the way things were. ‘What if we get caught?’ she asked in a small voice.

The kids’ grins only spread further. ‘That’s what makes it fun,’ the vine worker’s son said, a twinkle in his eye that made her grin, albeit nervously. ‘You remember how to do it, right? You’ll be fine. I know you can do this, and it will be the greatest rush when you do.’ He paused, frowned, perhaps seeing the uncertainty in her eyes. ‘We can give them back after. It’s just for fun.’

She smiled properly then and nodded her agreement. If it was just for fun, and they would return the coins afterwards, then that made it all right.

‘Great!’ the leader announced, clapping his hands. He moved to the exit of the narrow street, pressing himself against the wall as he peered out into the square. Then he turned back to the group and dropped his voice to a secretive whisper that gave the girl goosebumps. ‘You go first,’ he said to a girl a year older than the carpenter’s daughter with a mop of bright red curls. Her parents both worked in the kitchens at the castle, leaving her to her own devices during the day. ‘The lady in the green dress.’

The girl grinned and crept out of the street.

‘Be careful!’ the carpenter’s daughter called after her in a whisper.

She waved a hand in a motion for silence, then walked on with the casual air of one who belonged where she was.

The carpenter’s daughter felt her fingers tingling as she watched. Her heart beat louder and louder the closer the redhead drew to the crowd of adults. Even she barely caught the movement as, in a flurry of laughter from the audience, the redhead snipped the noble’s coin purse from her waist, flicked the little bag into her pocket and walked just as casually away. She chose a different street to escape down than the one they were all hidden in, then appeared at the opposite end. Her face was a bright, almost manic grin of exhilaration. She pulled her hand from her pocket, dangling the noble’s coin purse from her fingers, a little silk bag in the same green as her dress and delicately embroidered with two songbirds. Inside were no less than ten gold pieces and dozens of silver and copper coins.

The girl’s jaw dropped at the sight of such a fortune, then the redhead pocketed her prize once more, her face absolutely smug.

‘You’ll give it back though, right?’ the carpenter’s daughter pressed.

‘Of course,’ the girl said with a shrug to say it was obvious.

They watched as three more of their group played their dangerous game, lightfingering purses from belts and pockets of the crowded nobles until the girl was grinning with genuine excitement. ‘Can I go next?’ she asked when the vine worker’s son returned, beaming and smug with a purse jingling with a small treasure trove.

The apprentice cobbler grinned and nodded. ‘You can,’ he agreed, then peered around the corner again to select her target. ‘Vermilion,’ he said, drawing gasps from the other kids.

The girl’s eyes widened. ‘Master Vermilion?’ she squeaked. Now that it was real, she wasn’t sure she wanted to do it anymore, but the sight of all those glittering eyes meant she had to nod her agreement. If she could do this, she knew, she would be well and truly a part of their friend group. And it wasn’t for real, anyway. She was going to give it back. And besides, of all the people there who might catch her, Master Vermilion was probably the best. He was always so nice, buying the children fruit buns and crouching down to smile with them. Yes, of all the targets in the crowd, he would be the least angry if she was caught. And it wasn’t for real, anyway. She was going to give it back.

‘I’ll do it,’ she said, as much to convince herself as the others.

The children were bouncing on their toes and crowding to the entrance, a bundle of muted squeaks and giggles of excitement.

With a deep breath and a hammering heart, the carpenter’s daughter crept out of the street and into the square. She tried to look as casual as she could, but she knew she couldn’t hide it if anyone saw her.

She walked silently up behind the castle’s master, tall and suddenly imposing at the back of the group of onlookers. He stood with one hand in his trouser pocket, coat flicked back a little, and his other clasping the hand of a lady in a soft pink dress, his thumb brushing back and forward over hers. He was quite distracted, but his long red coat was like a brick wall, strong and hopelessly impenetrable. Only it couldn’t be impossible, or else the group wouldn’t have challenged her to do this.

She balled her hands into tight fists for a moment, as she had been shown to lessen their trembling. With the lightest fingers she could manage, she reached into the left pocket of Vermilion’s coat. It was empty. Only then did she remember how he always flicked his coat back when he bought things, retrieving his coin purse from the pocket of his trousers.

The thief’s fingers trembled again as she carefully withdrew them from the coat pocket. What now? Should she give up, knowing she could never get at his trouser pocket without him noticing? She had already lingered for so long.

She glanced back towards the street, hoping for some sign from her friends to tell her what to do next.

Instead, she came face to face with one of the castle guard.

The thief yelped and stumbled backwards, right into Master Vermilion. She looked for help across the town square, but her friends were long gone.

‘I’m sorry!’ she blurted, looking between the guard and the master. ‘I’m sorry! I was going to give it back, I promise! I’m sorry, I just wanted—’ She burst into tears, curling into a ball on the cobblestones, wishing as she tried to suck in breaths through her sobs that she could just turn into one of the stones and hide there forever. Surely nothing could be worse than this. She was going to be beaten and thrown in the dungeons and she would never be let out ever again.

Something touched her shoulder, a light, gloved hand that could only belong to Master Vermilion. The thief curled in tighter on herself, but the master didn’t go away. Instead he pulled both arms around her in a comforting hug. He couldn’t have known what she had done, then.

‘There, now,’ the master’s gentle voice said, and somehow the compassion she had originally anticipated was even worse than any anger. She felt so guilty, even though she was never going to take anything, not really. ‘What’s the matter? It’s just a bump, I’m all right. Cheer up, now, yes?’

‘She had her fingers in your pocket, Master,’ the guard said, her voice flat and unforgiving.

One of Master Vermilion’s arms abandoned its embrace to pat at his pocket and be sure nothing had been taken.

‘I’m sorry, Master Vermilion!’ she sobbed, not realising she had forgotten to use his real name to his face. ‘It wasn’t for real, I promise I was going to give it back! Truly I was.’ She dared herself to look up, and saw a face full of confusion and hurt. ‘It was just for fun. I’m sorry, Master, truly I am.’

The master sighed and sat down on the cobblestones beside her, one arm over her shoulders to pull her close. ‘Oh, dear,’ he murmured.

‘I’m sorry,’ she said again. ‘I never meant it.’

‘I can see that,’ Master Vermilion agreed. ‘What concerns me is why you tried to steal from me in the first place.’

The thief sniffed and wiped her nose on her sleeve. ‘I just wanted to be—to make friends. It was just a game we made up, not for real or anything.’

‘Oh, dear,’ he said through another sigh. He patted her arm as he thought. ‘I think you had better tell the guard here just who these friends of yours are.’

‘Yes, Sir.’ Her sobs had subsided now, but still the tears rolled down her face.

‘Do you know why this upsets me so?’ Master Vermilion asked.

The thief nodded. ‘Because stealing is wrong,’ she answered. She had always known this. She didn’t know now why it had seemed so exciting not long ago.

But Master Vermilion was shaking his head. ‘Because everything anyone does now, while all these visitors are here in our town, will be remembered, and people will always remember the bad more than they’ll remember the good. They might forget the play this afternoon, and only remember its interruption from a little girl who thought it would be fun to rob her master.’

The thief curled over her knees again. All these people would remember Candlewood badly, all because of her and her friends. ‘I’m sorry,’ she squeaked again. ‘I never meant it.’

‘I know that,’ Master Vermilion said patiently, ‘but none of these people know you. They see that one act, and they think that’s who you are, and so they’ll think that’s how all people from Candlewood are.’

She clenched her eyes tight, her breath once more coming in hitching gasps between her crying. ‘Is there—anything I can do to fix it, Master?’

He sighed again and whispered under his breath. ‘I hope so.’ He cleared his throat and spoke again at a normal volume. ‘Apologise to all these people, for interrupting their show and for giving them a false impression of Candlewood. For the rest of the week, show them what a good girl you really are, and tell your… friends, all of what I’ve just told you.’ He said the word as though it was bitter in his mouth. The thief thought she understood why. ‘The rest of it will be my task.’

She lifted her head to give him a nod. ‘I will, Master. I promise, they’ll all love Candlewood again.’