The English Heiress by Roberta Gellis Page B

Roger’s nerves. It was necessary for him to seem to have gone to bed. He doused his light and sat still in the dark until the last of the company at the inn was gone and the innkeeper had locked up for the night. Another hour passed while Roger waited for the innkeeper and his wife and servants to clean up and go to bed. Then, boots in hand, he crept down the stairs, trying to remember everything Pierre had taught him about entering and leaving premises. He kept as close to the wall as possible as he went down the stairs, to prevent them from creaking, and, after he slipped through the window of the private parlor, he pulled it shut and wedged the two halves of the window together. It was not that Roger was worried about the inn being robbed. This night every thief would probably have something better to do. However, Roger did not want the window to bang open and wake the innkeeper. He would prefer if his absence was not noticed until the morning.
    The wineshops in the disreputable neighborhood where Roger had made his arrangements with the patron naturally did not shut their doors and cork their bottles as early as the type of establishment patronized by hardworking tradesmen who had to wake early. In fact, all the wineshops were packed to the doors and free-spending agents of the patron were making rounds through the crowds buying drinks and urging the drinkers to stay. They did not need much urging, because they had congregated in response to hints that had flown from mouth to mouth all through the day that something “good” was “on the fire”.
    While Roger was sitting in the dark, counting the long minutes as they dragged past, speakers appeared in the wineshops. Each of them complained bitterly of the results of the “revolution” in France and particularly in Saulieu.
    “Are we not ‘people’ also?” the agitators cried “Think of the promises made to the ‘people’. Have we benefited in any way from these promises? No! I do not complain that we are still hunted and reviled—although we were promised that all men would be equal. But l say to you that we are worse off than before Jean-Paul Marot took this town into his power, and if he rules here much longer we will all starve. He has taken the wealth and power from those who had it, that is true. But what has happened to this wealth? Why, an honest thief cannot keep flesh upon his bones. There is nothing left to steal. The rich are poor, the tradesmen are poor. Only the town is rich.”
    Laughter and cheers hailed these speeches. The various agitators all used the same theme and all used the same reasoning. The patron did not want any blood thirst. He wanted no citizens torn apart, no heads mounted on pikes. The backlash from such a spate of violence would do him and his “employees” more harm than good. The patron had a double purpose. First, to fulfill his bargain with Roger and collect his fee; second, to discredit Jean-Paul Marot even further in the eyes of the townspeople.
    Louis was not physically the son of the patron, but he was a son in spirit. If the young thief’s plans worked out, the patron would enter into a liaison with the new town leader that would benefit both greatly. Those who did not pay their “dues” to the patron would be hunted and prosecuted and punished by the law itself. The gendarmes of the town would be the patron’s enforcers. On the other hand, if a particular crime caused a greater than usual outcry, the patron could and would furnish a “criminal” to be punished—even possibly, the criminal who had committed the crime—so that the townspeople would feel secure in the efficacy of their leader at keeping them safe from crime.
    Thus, the agitators did not attempt to awaken any real bitterness in those they addressed. They concentrated on inspiring them to raid the town treasury and take back “what was theirs”. There was, in fact, a considerable sum in the strongboxes kept in the Hôtel de Ville, Louis had