To think it's been almost a year and a half since I started this. And I'm only now past the third episode. But there have been plenty of times when this story has been there to keep me focused and inspired when nothing else has, and some people seem to enjoy it, so for that I will get it finished without fail.
VIII.
The noonday sun mingled pleasantly with the cool air of the riverfront as the city's market hummed with the numberless trivialities of life. There were a few things Lawrence held as absolutes, things taught to him as he had grown from difficult adolescence into manhood under the careful watch of the guild. One of his sacred tenants demanded that he get a second opinion from one who was learned. Lawrence did not have a complete knowledge of coins, he had often spurned their use entirely. As he walked solemnly along the riverside market it seemed almost that he was doing penance for his boldness by seeing Monsieur Clemant. Clemant was a man everyone in the city knew, or at least had heard of. Around him stories slithered, enshrouded and accumulated from every corner of the land, and he probably knew every one of them. It was said among other things that the Monsieur had been waiting patiently on the banks of the Meuse when the first Roman expedition reached "Belgium", and there had been naught around him but grass and wild deer; and also that he had been a witness to the Crucifixion. He had simply stood and stared from the back of the mob throughout and then quietly scoffed to himself at the Romans for granting such an indulgence to the Jews. Though by far Lawrence's favorite story concerning him (if you could truly call it a "favorite") was of the time when Charlemagne was still but a young man destined for greatness.
Parading through the muddy streets of Liege with his knights, monks, heralds, and various clingers-on, the golden, fair-haired boy hardly needed a horse for he was by nature a head taller than most grown men. Everywhere the simple folk swooned and delighted at this magnificent new scion who was sure to restore order and glory to the lands of Christendom. Before him came Clemant wearing a sagely brown robe and crossing before him on the road without acknowledgment. The young Hercules waived his followers aside and approached the old man fearlessly who now seemed dimly aware that this was not just another passing hay wagon. Just as the old man turned, Karolus said,
"Old man, I hath heard whispered from dark corners that thou art the oldest and wisest of all the good people of this fief who hath risen up from the earth with the hills as his brothers. I beseech thee to impart on me a token of thine vast wisdom so that I might rule as the far-gone Caesars hath, and bring glory and peace to the lands once more."
Karolus' followers were very impressed by this prodigy's display of wisdom and reverence, and happily murmured to one another as he bowed graciously to the aged man who only squinted perplexedly, for the sun had been shining on him from directly behind the young prince. As he rose again to shield him from it, Clemant seemed suddenly struck with inspiration.
"Ah, I might speak words to thee, my young master, though I doubt you would hear them with thy head so far up in the sky. I see thou art one who would reach upward toward the sun, and so must prevent it from shining upon some. Such I know is the cost which must be paid for this glory that one must seek, and perhaps too thine own kin shall be left in the darkest of shadows. But know also this, the sun has only but one path which it must traverse, and so thou must follow close. This is but one way, and no man hath yet ever changed it to match his own whims no matter the time or place. The brightest sun must inevitably fall away downward into darkness, the world left thus unlit."
A pall of silence fell over the prestigious assemblage then, and none moved to stop Clemant as he slowly trotted away on whatever errand had occupied him. It is said that upon his accession, Charlemagne ordered Clemant put in stocks. The old man was not released from bondage until Notger was made the first Prince-Bishop nearly a century later. Charlemagne was never recorded as having spoken to Monsieur, naturally. Although even today he is praised and idolized by good people across the land, so too does the king of France keep the golden sun as his emblem, it is chronicled in officium that Charlemagne died alone and in despair at his failure to restore Rome.
It was observed as a kind of right of passage for young merchants to present themselves to the Monsieur in one way or another so that he might gaze upon them with unblinking eyes of obsidian and speak to them their fate. That was just the superstition, of course. Lawrence had been goaded into his first meeting with the Monsieur by drunken comrades at the guild when he was eighteen. It was twilight and the old man was walking laboriously home with his worn and splintered cane. When Lawrence was pushed crudely before him, he smiled and said just, "Ah take good care, young man, and hold tight. Life runs fast and may throw you off some day" before continuing on his way. Somehow they seemed to have run into each other about once a year ever since. He was due for his visit now of course, for aside from all the entertaining myths it was known that there was no moneychanger more expert than Clemant. Lawrence had witnessed with his own eyes Monsieur skipping coins at random across a trough of water and guessing with reasonable accuracy their silver content from the sound they made. So it was to him that he took the new Spanish ducats in hopes that he could give final word as to their value.
The Monsieur spoke of many things, but not matters of business. He would tell you a coin's value if you asked him, but would not give any more advice on any investments or ventures than that. It was one of his many idiosyncrasies that he would all too happily bombard you with if you gave him but a moment. He had not mentioned anything of him to Horo save that he was a moneychanger and an old friend. There was little else he could say that would do justice, she would know soon enough. Some part of him feared that some very unfortunate provocations might soon transpire. It was perhaps just these nervous fancies, but it seemed to him that Horo was speaking less and less to him in public. One would normally say such people were shy, but that certainly was not Horo's case. He typically thought of her as his companion but when she behaved in such ways that were not of the playful little vixen she appeared, his thoughts drained away to places he wished them not to go. He imagined the great red monster trotting slowly beside him amid cacophonous shrieks of terror. The townspeople flee in every direction, some diving into the river and to certain death instead of the uncertainties of such a horror. Before them alone stands Clemant. He raises up his ancient cane, a limb cut from a branch of the Tree of Knowledge, and banishes the beast away to some unwholesome ether. Lawrence didn't like drinking because he was always in dark spirits the day after. Clemant was standing before them now, though he was not preparing magic rituals but looking like his typical nearly-blind self, not changed at all since that evening he had first seen him. Hatted and with pitch black overcoat even in the noonday sun, he squinted disinterestedly at passersby from behind his rickety little table, seeming to have no particular concern for earning his keep. Lawrence had to step within four feet of him before he noticed he was near, but he always recognized him right away.
"Oh! Bonjour, monsieur Lawrence! It has been such a long time since you have been in Liege, but I thought it might be time again, yes?"
One didn't truly converse with Clemant, but listened. Lawrence used to think that in his great age he had already heard everything that it was possible to hear, and so had no need to listen to anyone. Horo may have proven that wrong however.
"Ah what a fine day when the wind blows east from the blue oceans instead of west over the rich and fertile valleys of the Rhineland, all but bursting with their harvest of corpses. Almost enough to make you forget this world we live in, yes? How fare you on your way over it?"
"I'm beginning to feel both blessed and cursed by this world."
"There is an explanation for that, it stands beside thee! How long before you would introduce me to your bride my dear boy?"
Clemant's eyes had failed him long ago, but seemed always to be in perfect condition to detect whatever one would rather conceal. He moved around the table to Horo so as apparently to give her his full inspection.
"Ah so young she is, and modest, she speaks not a word. A wonder that you would find both qualities in one person, isn't it? A young wife must be desirable to you as a merchant, yes? Truly it is the best possible deal economically, as she can bear you as many children as you might possibly want, and still have time for more even. Oh, but please do pardon my rough manner, young lady. I have of late been spending a lot of time with the soldiers of our glorious Emperor and blessed Faith and so have acquired much that is vulgar and base. I am called Clemant"
Clemant bent down as well as he was able and took her hand to kiss. Horo allowed this, but was stone silent, and her thoughts indeterminable. Her face resembled the one Lawrence had seen in the cart on that starry night. It appeared both devoid of emotion and to be communicating some feelings wholly unknown to him and perhaps any man. Clemant didn't seem to notice, while Lawrence was transfixed.
"Oh my, I am flattered monsieur. My husband has told me all about you, for you are so wise and beneficent that he thinks of you as his grandfather."
"Ach, she flatters too! Lawrence! Did you kidnap a princess from Versailles?"
"My dear sir, now it is you who flatter."
Horo gave off a little giggle and left Clemant looking ever so slightly charmed.
"Well, well, young man, you have done well for yourself indeed, you have found a lovely woman whom I'm sure will keep your time filled with many pleasures. But of course I'm certain this was not the 'wise' council for which you came to me. I must confess that I have very little wisdom to give, for the way by which we men live our lives is in truth anything but wisdom, it is folly and self-deception."
Before Clemant could go a word further Lawrence thrust the Spanish coins to him.
"I understand that these have just been minted with a higher silver content than previously."
"Ah hmm." Monsieur immediately took them from his hand and began clinking them together in his hands next to his ears as was his peculiar practice. Lawrence saw for the briefest of moments a twitch atop Horo's head, but thankfully Clemant was turned away from her.
"Of course these ears of mine are not what they once were, and there are other methods I could try, but I believe this newer coin has less silver than the older."
Lawrence tried very hard to hide his shock, but figured Clemant must have sensed it anyway.
"Perhaps I should not say this in the open, but there is a very prestigious man in the clergy of my acquaintance, a man damned to hell by his own confession, who enjoys conversing with me time to time. He has told me what he has heard from men of the Inquisition who are here from Spain to ensure our happy adherence to God's way. Apparently Spain is not in happy circumstances herself despite all her vast fortunes. She is debasing her currency. For the unceasing wars with the English, the Turks, the German Protestants, the Dutch Protestants, and her own wasteful king have left no more wealth to her name, all the riches of the New World notwithstanding. Great glory creates only great excess it would seem. Several times has she wavered around bankruptcy in recent years."
Lawrence just stood in contemplation. Surely these words must be true, he had never once even heard of Clemant speaking falsehood. He felt like nothing but a pebble washed away in the river.
"Well my boy there are times when lady Fortuna smiles upon us and other times when she frowns. Though perhaps you will learn her step a little better from this, yes?"
The wars were not fought for Liege, the seas were far from Liege. Though from time to time there were disturbances, the church with its many tendrils of wealth and power could sweep them away with ease. His land was as a forgotten island left alone to itself as the world turned around it. Far from troublesome progress, men grow ignorant and pious, the church grows rich and strong, and merchants stay poor and unambitious. It was just such a place, such a place in which something like Horo might hide away unnoticed on some forgotten hillside. They walked briskly away from the waterfront through narrow, crowded alleyways until gradually the crowds melted away as the sky went to burning red, and the oppressive din of the city gave way to a kind of solitude. They were left in some crumbling niche where none would hear their words and care to listen. Ambition had always been alien to Lawrence, no less currency speculation about which he would have tisked at a month earlier as the most foolhardy of pursuits. Why had he done so? He could not find a convincing reason. But the past was passed.
"What did you hear from the coins?"
"Mine ears are not used to listening for such things, but I think the new coin sounded duller."
There was no question that it was of lesser value. The fact that he had lost only ten ducats was of little consequence to his spirit. As Horo had pointed out the previous day, pride meant more to most men than any worldly possession. He had fallen for what appeared to be a simple trick that even a child in a more cosmopolitan area would recognize. As a boy of the streets he had loved to gamble, but had forgotten the habit quickly when it had nearly cost him his life. It would seem that perhaps his old urges had reawakened, but despite the thrill of tossing his fate to the whims of fickle Fortuna, he had always hated losing far more. Now it was his reputation which would be tarnished if he did not discover a way to make use of these new circumstances. It was time now to eat and to think as long and deep as he had drank the night before. Something was missing.
"Folly and self-deception are indeed the means by which we men live our lives, would you not say?"
"Men who are doomed say such things, while men who are great only remember them and smile. You should visit that man more often."
"I think the other merchants would begin to fear me if I did. But why hath you been so quiet?"
"We must soon find a tavern as it is too late now to return to the village, my dear."
Horo took him by the arm and began to guide him away from the crumbling hook of brick and clay that was the deserted alley. It struck Lawrence all in a flash that it twas not some strange urge of shape-changing beasts that had driven her, but what must have been a transcendent tact.
They sat at a worn and splintered table in one of the less reputable taverns of the area, one which was sure to have rooms to spare and available immediately. Around them some equally rough patrons were making merry but with a tolerable raucousness. Lawrence was still able to think to himself how his ten coins might buy him some new and unexpected commodity.
"Why did that tramp take my money? If it was just a simple trick of confidence he would not have taken the trouble to put his name to a contract. He might have just stolen the furs from my cart. And the coins are being devalued so I could not make a profit for him to take his share of. It's almost as if this were some sort of insult to my person."
"Have you made such enemies? Whosoever interferes with you does also with me."
Horo had ale in hand and appeared quite gleeful. Lawrence was becoming increasingly frustrated at his obvious lapse in insight. He looked at her and could see her as the nexus of a strange turmoil which had captured him as a sailor in a whirlpool and made him loose his senses to ends which were perhaps truly both blessing and curse.
"In the northlands there are many dense forests and jagged cliffs to be found all around. Our prey can hide if we look for it on its own climb. We must go higher above to see all of what moves in the valley. What if the boy was not acting alone?"
Lawrence's eyes went wide. It was obvious. The Spanish would try to keep their currency from plummeting in value when they reduced its silver, and so they would try to get whoever was ignorant enough to buy up the new coins so as to inflate them. Someone must have told Zenobe to make this offer to the local merchants, and in no other place than Liege. He stood from the table in a start, this was the advantage he sought made clear before him. The other esteemed patrons looked for a moment in case he should draw steel but soon went back to their business. Lawrence nearly recoiled at the revelation of his own business. What had once been a scheme of currency speculation, a low enough deed, would now become no less than blackmail to the king of Spain. And up above them, and far above the smokey rooftops Mars gleamed bright and high in the night.
