Jim Morgan and the King of Thieves (13 page)

Jim lay awake with his head on the brick for a few moments, trying to forget his dream by recounting the previous days horrors instead: having been robbed, beaten up, mocked, held at the mercy of the King of Thieves, and press-ganged into a troupe of pickpockets called, of all things, the Brothers Ratt. But worse than all that, Jim knew that by losing his box the night before, he had lost the only means of making all of this mess right again.

Finally Jim hobbled to his feet, twisted to pop his back and neck back into proper position, and took a look around. As it turned out, the Ratts lived in an abandoned cellar beneath a shoe factory with a hole in the wall that acted as the only window and only door to their “house.” Although, Jim noted, as far as homes made out of abandoned cellars beneath shoe factories went, this one was only half awful. Its occupants had managed to steal enough odds and ends to give the place a sense of homeliness.

A wooden coat rack leaned crookedly by the hole, the Ratts’ stolen caps and scarves hanging haphazardly from its hooks, and a small set of empty drawers sat nearly collapsed against the far wall. Beside the chest of drawers a rickety shelf barely stood on its wobbly legs beneath a load of stolen books the children couldn’t read. On the top shelf sat a row of various soldiers’ hats stolen off various soldiers’ heads, and on a small, plain table in the middle of the room stood a cracked vase, containing a few flowers with broken stalks and only a few sickly petals. As for bedding, the Ratts had piled bunches of burlap potato sacks in the corners of the room, one for each of the brothers and Lacey – though each of Jim’s new friends had been decent enough to loan him one sack from each of their own piles to make him a bed beside the chest of drawers.

“It didn’t always look this fantastic, Jim,” George said, popping out of bed, a seemingly everlasting smile stretched across his small face. “Believe you me, before Lacey came along, this place was a real dump!”

“I can only imagine,” Jim said.

“Yes, sir!” George exclaimed. “She made us sweep up and even got Paul to talk an old florist into lending us that vase with the flowers,
if you catch my drift…don’t go back to that corner much anymore though, he was a fast blighter for a florist. A woman’s touch, Jim, that’s all the old home front needed, a woman’s touch! And now look at it!”

“Home sweet home, eh?” Jim tried to force a smile, turning away before his true feelings about the cellar accidentally escaped, as he needed these Ratts help to retrieve his box.

“Yep,” George said. “A man’s home is his castle as long as he’s the king of it, that’s what our Pa always used to say.”

“You didn’t know our father, George,” Peter said from the pile of sacks that was his bed, stretching and yawning himself awake.

“Or our mother, for that matter,” Paul added, wiping away the sleepy goobers from his eyes.

“True,” George said with a nod, still smiling. “But that doesn’t mean he didn’t say it, does it?”

“True enough indeed!” Peter said, and he and Paul jumped merrily out of bed.

Jim said nothing about it, but he was entirely perplexed at the never-ending smiles the Ratt brothers wore on their mousy faces. As far as he could tell, the three of them were disliked by their peers, had never known their own mother or father, had not a penny to their name, and lived in a cellar, however orderly a cellar it may have been. Yet Jim had seen nary a frown on their faces, even when they were beating one another to a pulp.

“How about some breakfast, Jim?” George said. At the mere mention of food, Jim felt his insides rumble, realizing it had been quite some time since he’d had his last meal. But the instant image of he and the Ratt Brothers gnawing on old birdseed or rotten tomatoes behind a shack somewhere popped into Jim’s head, and his appetite grew suddenly dubious.

“What’s on the menu?” Jim asked warily.

“Buttered eggs!” Peter shouted.

“Greasy bacon!” Paul added.

“Warm toast!” George said.

“Apples!”

“Tea!”

“Hot coffee!”

“Pastries!”

Jim’s entire mood immediately lifted and he almost did a cartwheel at the thought of such a magnificent feast. Perhaps being poor and homeless wasn’t so bad after all, he thought. He and the three brothers bolted toward the hole when Lacey’s sharp voice caught them from behind.

“Now boys,” she said, standing on her pile of sacks, arms crossed and foot tapping. “Aren’t we forgetting something?

Over the past few days, Jim had been feeling all manner of new sensations and emotions, and now he experienced a bit more of the unpleasantness of guilt. He and the Ratts hadn’t even thought about waking Lacey before dashing off. “We were going to bring some back for you, I’m sure,” Jim offered with a weak smile.

“That’s not what I mean!” Lacey said angrily. “They know why they didn’t wake me first.”

“Why’s that?” Jim asked, noting the three brothers’ faces were indeed more guilt-ridden than even his own.

“Oh c’moff it, Lacey!” George said, Peter and Paul immediately taking up his side.

“Do we have to?”

“We’re starvin’! We can do it after breakfast!”

“We absolutely cannot do it after breakfast, Peter!” Lacey said, stomping her foot. “That defeats the entire point.”

“Point of what?” Jim asked.

“A bath!” the three brothers said as one, throwing their hands up in the air.

“This i-i-i-s i-i-intolera-a-ble!” Jim tried to say a few moments later through chattering teeth as he stood waste deep in the cold water
of the River Thames. He had never taken a bath in open water before and, having been drawn hot baths his whole life, found the experience rather earth shaking and immediately wiped clean from his mind the idea of homelessness being anything less than barbaric.

“O-o-ne of th-these d-days we’re gonna to f-f-freeze to d-death!” Paul said, angrily staring at a rock in the water, behind which Lacey bathed herself.

“Stop whining, you whelps!” Jim heard her call without shivering from the other side. “I swear, boys are such wimps!”

“W-w-e are n-n-not!” George said, the cold bringing tears that nearly ran down his cheeks. “I l-l-love b-b-baths! Th-they’re my f-f-favorite th-th-ing in th-th-the whole w-w-world!”

“Y-y-y-yeah!” Peter tried nodding his head one time, but it kept jittering up and down to the point that Jim couldn’t tell when he had stopped nodding and was just standing still. Of course, all three boys still kept trying to smile, and Jim couldn’t help but think that those happy boys, with chattering teeth and little arms wrapped tightly around their skinny white bodies, really did look like three mice holding a squeaky conversation. Then Jim noticed something about himself. He was smiling. For the first time in some days, he was smiling. In fact, he was laughing.

“H-h-h-h-h-a-a-a!” Jim’s laugh chattered out. That itself was as funny to the Ratt Brothers as they were to Jim, and soon all four boys were laughing their heads off and splashing in the water.

“S-s-see!” George exclaimed. “W-w-we do love b-b-baths!”

Fortunately the baths lasted only a few, freezing moments longer, and the boys and Lacey clambered out of the water and quickly dressed. The little clan then ran all the way to a nearby market square, the sun peeking out from behind the drab clouds to light the way, the warmer air and the running drying all five of them off by the time they reached the busy market.

The square sat just beyond the shadowy streets where the King of Thieves held court, and the people there seemed every bit more brighter as the city around them. The inns and shops were open,
crowds bustling from store to store or sitting down at tables on the cobblestone to enjoy some breakfast. The delicious smells of a hundred different foods filled the air, including all the ones the Ratts had mentioned and more. Jim’s mouth watered, and he rubbed his hands together in anticipation.

“So, where shall we eat?” he asked.

“Behind this building, under that tree,” George said, jerking his head toward the shop to his left.

“Meet us back in ten minutes,” Peter added, and with that they were off.

“Wait!” Jim cried after them. “I don’t have any money!” But it was to no avail: his four new comrades were already out of sight. Jim kicked a rock at his feet and listened to his belly growl again. “Well, that was nice,” he said to himself. But he did remember that the Ratts had put a roof over his head and had invited them to join their gang, so perhaps they would spot him a few coins upon their return. He went and sat down under the tree behind the shop and waited – but not for long.

Peter came back first, a small sack in his hands. He sat down and opened the bag to reveal an entire greasy pile of buttered eggs and a whole grilled potato. Paul arrived next, juggling a splendidly long chain of linked sausages while trying not to spill a cup of steaming hot tea. George and Lacey came right behind Paul with a loaf of bread, some pastries, and a handful of crispy bacon.

“Did you already eat all of yours, Jim?” Peter asked through a mouthful of potato.

“That wasn’t very polite,” Paul said with a sausage in his mouth. “We usually share, except when George is being a pig and doesn’t leave me any bacon!”

“I always share with you youngins!” George shot back, nearly spitting some half chewed bread out as he did.

“One year, George! You’re only one year older than us!”

“One year is a lifetime with you yahoos!”

The brothers were about to tumble again when Lacey noticed Jim’s wide-eyed stare and the string of hungry drool hanging from his lips.

“Jim, you didn’t get anything yet did you?” she said, her blue eyes shining brightly in the sunlight. “We should be ashamed of ourselves! Here, take some of this and this and this!” In the blink of an eye, Jim found a nice pile of bread, eggs, bacon, and sausage set before him.

Jim wanted to say thank you, but his hands were, at that moment, strictly under his stomach’s control, and he immediately began shoveling food into his hungry mouth.

“Didn’t you see a good opening over there, mate?” George asked.

“Were the King’s Men around, you know, the constables?” Paul wondered.

“Yeah, Butterstreet and his crew? Did you see ’em?” Peter asked.

“I don’t know what you mean,” Jim said with a mouthful of everything, which never tasted better to him in his whole life. “I just didn’t have any money.”

The three brothers stared at Jim for a long moment, then exploded into laughter, rolling around in the grass and all over each other, food flying in all directions from their mouths, landing all over their faces and their clothes. “You got me with that one, Jim! That was a winner! That was a winner!”

“He’s a master of comedy - a master!”

“A regular court jester!”

“I think he’s being serious,” Lacey said. “And stop talking with your mouths full of food, it’s disgusting!” The three brothers stopped laughing, finally stilling themselves and sitting up, staring at Jim incredulously.

“None of us have any money, Jim,” George said matter-of-factly. “Don’t you remember what we do for a living? Remember, last night? King of
Thieves
: tall chap, rather creepy, big pile of treasure? We don’t buy things Jim, we steal ’em.”

“I’ve never stolen a thing in my life!” Jim said, indignant.

Now the Ratts didn’t just stare, their little mousy jaws fell open, hanging agape with utter stupefaction. “You’ve never stolen … anything?” Paul finally asked.

“No,” Jim said. “In fact, I’m not sure I would even know how if I wanted to.” And then, even though part of him was still stuck with
the idea that he was a noble, Jim grew suddenly afraid that the Ratt Brothers were going to kick him out of their clan, and that he would lose the only opportunity he had to get his box back, even if it did involve stealing. But, as usual, the three boys smiled as brightly as ever.

“Well, fortunate for you, mate. You’ve joined the greatest clan of thieves in all of London! A few simple lessons from us, and you’ll be as right as Robin thievin’ Hood!”

Not a few moments later, after all the food had been gobbled up and the dishes returned (Lacey said it was rude to leave them in the grass, and that even though they were forced to be thieves at the moment, they could still afford to be polite) the five children stood in the market across from a stand piled high with neat rows of scrumptious, green apples.

“Right then,” said George, rubbing his hands together and nodding toward the cart. “Watch us first, just to get the general idea of it all. Then you’ll give it a go, right?”

“Right,” Jim agreed, focusing intently on the apple cart. Crowds of people passed back and forth, browsing and buying, some pausing to inspect the apples for ripeness. “You can go ahead and start,” Jim said, “I’m watching closely and I won’t miss —” He turned his head back to George only to find the eldest Ratt and his two brothers munching on crunchy green apples. Paul had one in each hand, Peter was trying to hold five or six in his arms, dropping some while trying to take bites. Jim’s mouth hung open in disbelief, his eyes wide as saucers.

“That was incredible!” Jim exclaimed. “You
are
great! That was the fastest thing I’ve ever seen!”