They turned to each other and began to chatter away, valuing my goods between them. Though they seemed quite content to leave me standing barefoot in my undergarments, I had other ideas.
‘You know, I think that dress would look really good on you, mademoiselle,’ I said to Annette, the shorter of the two. ‘Pink was never my colour but it’d look lovely on a girl with your hair.’
Annette giggled and turned to Marie for permission to do what she longed to do.
‘Go on, Annette. I’m sure J-F won’t mind,’ encouraged her friend.
Annette wriggled out of her patched clothes and donned my dress with a smile of pure delight, unconcerned that it fell well short of her ankles. She fingered the fine material, her eyes shining.
‘I was right: it does look better on you,’ I told her. ‘You don’t mind if I make myself presentable?’ I picked up her discarded dress with an enquiring look at my two guards.
‘Not at all,’ Annette replied, preoccupied with tweaking the bows on the bodice.
Her old dress was on the large side, the hem trailing on the ground, but it was plain and serviceable. I was not unhappy with the exchange.
‘May I have this?’ I asked, pointing to the cockade pinned on the front.
‘Go ahead: we’ve some to spare,’ said Marie. She reached into a box at the end of their rickety bed and pulled out another. ‘I don’t suppose you want to be seen without one again?’ She grinned, showing wide gaps between her teeth.
‘I’m sorry I don’t have anything for you to wear,’ I told her.
She shrugged. ‘Don’t worry, English girl, I’ll sell the shoes. They’ll fetch a nice price. Come, let’s go back to J-F before he sends someone after us.’
We emerged into the courtyard to find the thief lounging on a makeshift throne of barrels, toying with a pink ribbon I had not so long ago had in my hair. I hadn’t even noticed him pilfering it: he must be good at his craft. He tied the bow around his own head, making his followers laugh.
Frank and Joseph had not fared as well as me: they were both stripped to the skin with only a rag to keep their modesty covered. Frank looked mortified to appear before company in this fashion; Joseph incensed. As both were bound and gagged, I guessed they had resisted the attempt to part them from their belongings. Well really, what did they expect? When you fall among thieves, it’s wit and cunning that’ll keep you safe, not moral outrage. As they seemed in no immediate danger, I stood back, arms folded, to watch the little thief order his court. I had admired his pluck in front of the mob at the lamp post; it would be intriguing to see how he held sway here. I also had to think of a way to extricate us from this situation.
J-F sat up on his throne. The laughter died. He waved a hand to one side as if talking to an imaginary person.
‘What are the charges?’
Assuming a stern expression, he answered himself: ‘The accused are charged with being stuck-up foreign nobility not wearing the cockade.’
His followers cheered, enjoying the performance.
‘Defence?’
He now assumed a wheedling, hand-rubbing persona: ‘The tall one’s a servant, your honour.’
‘But he calls the other “Milord”,’ J-F said, switching to the prosecutor’s voice. ‘That means the buckskin boy is an aristocrat.’
The crowd booed and jostled Frank.
‘And what about her?’ the judge voice asked.
J-F stared hard at me, his hazel eyes perplexed. ‘Don’t know – she remains a mystery,’ he concluded in his normal tone. ‘Girls, what did you find?’
‘Nothing of value, except the dress,’ said Marie, coming to sit at his feet. Annette blushed and gave a twirl.
‘Very pretty – keep it. I found this on him,’ announced J-F, tossing Frank’s purse into the air and catching it so that it chinked. ‘So, to the verdict.’ He looked around the room, gauging the mood of his followers. ‘The man’s acquitted. The boy’s condemned for being a filthy aristocrat.’
Condemned? Frank gave me a desperate look but J-F hadn’t finished with us yet. He waved at me.
‘Girl – stand forward.’
I stepped into the centre of the court. I wasn’t afraid for myself, not like I had been when surrounded by the mob outside the palace, but I was worried for Frank. How far would J-F carry this charade?
J-F twirled the ribbon at me. ‘Who are you?’
‘I’ve already said. I’m English. I’m a friend of the revolution – or I was until you all tried to string me up this morning. Since then, my feelings have cooled somewhat.’
Marie laughed. ‘Don’t blame you, girl,’ she called out.
‘That’s who I am. And I’ll tell you who you are for nothing,’ I continued.
‘Oh yes? And who’s that?’ asked J-F, sitting forward as if expecting to be handed a treat.
‘You’re a complete idiot.’
Frank struggled with his bonds, groaning through his gag. He was trying to warn me to show more respect for our captor but I knew exactly what I was doing.
J-F smiled, apparently not disappointed. ‘And how did you work that one out, English girl?’
‘Since when have all aristocrats been your enemy?’
He tossed the ribbon carelessly into the air. ‘All rich people are. It doesn’t matter to me who’s in power – they all turn out to be the same: protecting their own, stamping on the likes of us.’
‘If you really think that, it just proves what a dimwit you are. Frank’s been my good friend for two years now – he’s helped me out of many fixes.’ J-F did not look impressed by this so I took a different tack. ‘Tell me, are all thieves in Paris the same?’
J-F smiled slyly. ‘Redistributors of wealth, please. And no, we most certainly are not.’
‘That’s right,’ agreed Marie. ‘We’re much better than that lot from Notre Dame – bunch of nasty cutthroats, they are.’
The crowd cheered themselves.