Lessons Learned
Allan’s palms were slick with perspiration. He repeatedly rubbed them on his breeches, but more sweat formed almost immediately and there was apparently nothing he could do to stop it. He had been thieving since he could walk-snitching bits and bobs from here and there-but he had never robbed an actual person before now.
One did not have to be overly clever or agile to steal from a stall. A slight slip or bump would go unnoticed. This, however, this was different.
He looked behind him. His friend and mentor was a boy only two years older than himself named Gregory. When Allan caught his eye, Gregory gave him an encouraging nod. Allan scanned the crowd for a “mark,” trying to remember what he had been told to look for. The person had to be somewhat distracted, either in conversation or by his own actions or by other encumbrances. One should choose a man or woman who seemed to be a not-overly-nervous type; someone who could be approached, maybe even jostled, without thinking they were under attack. Rich, obviously, was a criteria. And for his first attempt at pick-pocketing, Gregory suggested that Allan choose someone smaller and slower than himself. He was beginning to realize that this last bit was particularly good advice, even if it was not easily accomplished by a scrawny lad of only fifteen years.
He wiped his hands again and looked back to Gregory, who now mouthed urgently, “Go on!”
Allan scanned the crowded market again. It was now or never. He could not go on skimming slim pickings anymore. He had to try and pinch his first fat purse.
He scanned and he scanned; his gaze raking the crowd in the market. He spied two merchant men in conversation. They looked far too serious. They would not tolerate being interrupted by a clumsy youth and would beat him just for sport. That woman there was too distracted. He could not rob a mother with five young children; not for his first heist, at least. He continued to scan. Too old. Too young. Much, much too large!
Finally, Allan spied her. He had really hoped that his first robbery of a person would be of a man; the idea seemed more sporting somehow. Also, he thought that if he robbed a woman who might have a man at home to whom she would be responsible were monies to go missing, that it would be more wrong somehow.
This lady seemed as though she could lose a few coins without any eyebrows being raised, however. She was dressed elegantly. She was older, but not old. She carried herself with some authority as if she was used to being on her own. She appeared to be engrossed in a heady conversation with a merchant about a certain amount of spice, and possibly someone’s finger coming too close to the scale that was measuring said spice. Perfect!
Allan wiped his sweaty palms one last time and took a deep breath. Then, he set his plan into motion. First, he slid through the crowd trying not to draw attention from anyone and sidled up directly behind her, but still a few feet away. He took one last look to the left, to the right. Not seeing anyone paying him the slightest attention, he took another deep breath and pretended to stumble. As he bumped into her, his left hand reached out to seemingly steady himself on her shoulder while his right deftly slipped the knot tying her purse to her waist. “Pardon me, milady. I’m terribly sorry. Please, I didn’t mean to bump you. No harm, then, I hope. I’ll just be on my way. G’day, milady.”
Allan smiled to himself as he stowed the heavy purse under his cape and quickly made his way up the maze of market stalls, and through the throng of people. He was so proud that he had done it until…
“Wait! Stop that boy!”
Allan’s heart fell into his stomach. He panicked and momentarily forgot his escape plan. Glancing over to where Gregory had stood he realized that his accomplice had not! The spot on the corner was vacant. Allan was on his own.
It was too late to react! Heavy hands grabbed him from either side as a pair of helpful gents dragged him back to the scene of his crime. Allan swallowed hard. He would have to take his punishment unless he could think quickly. Maybe the powers that be would take pity on such a young man who never-he would assure them-had ever tried anything like this before. Ironically, that was the honest truth of the matter.
He looked down at his shuffling feet, unable to bring himself to look the lady directly in the eye. He could feel her looking directly at him, though. Her eyes bored a hole into the top of his skull.
“Look at me, boy,” she commanded.
Allan obeyed, raising eyes that were starting to slightly water. He hoped he would not cry. Crying like a babe in public would be worse than any punishment he could imagine.
“I believe you have something that belongs to me,” she said firmly, but without malice.
Allan’s courage returned as he noticed that while she was not smiling, the edges of her mouth were upturned ever so slightly. She seemed to look upon him with a certain degree of benevolence, like one of the Sisters of Mercy. Maybe, she had been a nun. Allan could only pray that were true as he found himself suddenly in desperate need of Christian charity.
He tentatively put his hand under his cloak and retrieved the purse. He held it up to her, ashamedly, and bent his head in disgrace. The men holding him tightened their grip. “We’ll take care of him, my Lady. He shall be punished by the proper authorities. You ‘ave our word.”
They started to drag Allan away, but the woman stopped them. “No,” she called, “Leave him with me.”
Allan’s head jerked up and he looked at her in surprise. Her expression remained stern but not foreboding. What exactly did she have in mind?
“My Lady, are you certain? He looks like nothing but trouble,” the man said, still gripping Allan’s forearm. His partner on the other side had not released his grip either.
“He is just a boy,” she said. “I’ll see that he receives a fitting punishment and guidance as well. Leave him.”
The men reluctantly released Allan and went on their way. Allan was struck by a sudden urge to turn and bolt! Something inside, though, made him stay where he was. When he looked back at the woman and saw her arm extended to him and a smile on her face, he knew she meant him no harm. It was a small smile, but it was genuine.
He walked the few paces toward her and she placed a firm arm around his shoulders. “What is your name, boy?”
Allan thought about making something up, but just blurted his own name instead. There was something about the nature of this woman that led him to believe that she would get the truth out of him eventually. There was no point in deceiving her anymore. He reluctantly realized that he had completely misjudged her character from across the marketplace!
She led him back to her home within the town. It was a nice, comfortable house with rich furnishings. Allan wondered if she also had a manor in the countryside, or if this was the extent of her estate. There were three servants visible-an older gentleman with a sour face and two girls not much older than Allan. One was quite attractive and the other well-endowed. Either way, he thought, and a gent like myself could be happy.
The lady of the house had said nothing as he looked around and got his bearings. She could apparently read this thoughts, though, as she said, “Like what you see?”
Somehow, Allan knew that she was talking about his thoughts on the servant girls, but he played it off and made a comment about her lovely home. She indicated a chair and Allan obligingly sat. He sat very still as the lady sized him up, now. He still was not certain what game it was she was playing.
“So,” she said, as though he might know what topic it was they were discussing. Allan had no answer and so remained mute. The lady shook her head gently from side to side. “You’re not going to tell me then why it is that you stole my purse?”
Allan pulled a face. “Well, I wanted it,” he said. Why else? he thought.
“You seem like a bright boy. Strong and not unhandsome. I know you are smart. I know you know why I am asking,” she said. Allan squirmed, but tried not to, and swallowed nervously. If she knows so much, why is she asking the questions?
“You’ve got quick hands. I’ll give you that,” she said almost appreciatively. “ I would not have noticed that my purse were missing had I not gone to pay almost immediately after you ran into me.”
Oh! Allan kicked himself mentally. Only he could be victimized by ill timing and bad luck. Of all the stupid reasons to get caught!
“Hands like that should learn a skill, not thieve. You could lose a hand thieving, you know. It would be a great shame.”
On that point, Allan felt that he could not agree with her more. He kept his mouth shut, though, and continued to let her guide the discussion. He felt that it must have a point to it although he was still uncertain as to what that point was.
“I don’t know what it is about you, Allan, but I like you. There is an inherent honesty in you that is just desperate to get out.”
She walked around him as he sat perfectly still and mute, continuing to assess his various qualities. “When I look in your eyes, I don’t see any meanness or malevolence that would indicate that you are a base, common thief. You strike me as more than that. You,” she said with some conviction, “could be someone’s apprentice.”
He could not blame her for seeing in himself the type of qualities that, in another man, would indicate potential, but at this last suggestion, Allan snickered. “I’m not bein’ funny but who would ‘ave me on as an apprentice,” he said sarcastically. “I’m already fifteen. Got no family name. I’m not even from around ‘ere.”
The woman stood directly in front of him and looked him in the eye. “I have no children of my own, but I always wanted them. I like to help those that I can who also have no family.” She gestured to the back of the house with her chin and asked rather rhetorically, “Do you know what those two girls would be doing right now if I had not taken them into my household and given them proper jobs?”
Allan reckoned that he did and his coy smile answered for him.
“I’ll take that as a ‘yes’,” the woman said sardonically.
Allan wiped the smile from his face quickly. She continued, “I have friends in town that might take you on with a good word from me. It’s not impossible. If I inquired, would you be willing to give it a try?”
Allan was touched. No one had ever given him even half an opportunity as rich as the one being offered by this stranger of a woman. He did not know the reasons why-what motivated her to take on and help children who were not her own-but he recognized that the reasons were not important. What mattered is that she was willing. Could he do it? He thought he might be able to try…
“Yeah,” he said, buying into the idea. “I could give it a go.”
“Fine,” she said. “I’ll make inquiries. I’ll let Barnes know that you will be staying the night and we will head out tomorrow to make introductions.”
She left the room and Allan was alone. He felt stunned. And elated. And wary. Could she be serious about getting him an apprenticeship? She seemed to be an affluent woman, but was she influential? She’s serious, he thought, but is she seriously addled, too? Allan’s own worst enemy, his ever-present self-doubt, reared its ugly head. Who would take him on? He was definitely what you would call a “hard sell.” He had tried himself to get hired on for odd menial jobs here and there and rarely even got a second glance. Too scrawny, they said. Or they claimed that he looked too unreliable.
Allan surveyed the room, not actually casing the joint, just looking. He spied an ornately decorated box on a table not two feet away. Even if it had nothing inside, it would still be valuable. Not exacting knowing what he was doing, he silently walked over to the box and lifted the lid.
“Ahem.” Allan heard a manly voice clearing its throat from behind him and he abruptly dropped the lid of the box.
“Looking for something, were you?” It was Barnes, the sour-looking servant.
Nervously Allan stammered, “No! I…look, I wasn’t stealing or nothing. Honest!”
“I told the lady that you looked like trouble. Now, get out of this house instantly or I shall have you…”
“Barnes!”
The servant stopped his tirade when the mistress of the house reappeared. She glanced at Allan standing beside the box, then at Barnes, who, noting a cue in her expression explained himself.
“I caught him peeking into the gilt box, milady. I think he meant to take it.”
The lady looked at Allan, and asked, “Were you going to take it, Allan?”
Allan answered, “I hadn’t really thought about it. I just thought it looked pretty and wondered what was inside.”
Allan was surprised himself to discover that this was the truth. He had not thought about stealing it. Granted, he had not thought very much at all before Barnes had interrupted him!
“He is staying, Barnes. Allan, go into the kitchen and tell the girls that I said you were to be fed now.”
Allan left as instructed. He was just about to enter the kitchen when he overheard the girls talking…about him. He paused.
“Dontcha love what milady drug ‘ome from the market today?” one chided.
“Well, ‘e is nice on the eyes, if a little on the thin side,” the other commented.
“’e’s just a boy,” the other teased. “Still wet behind the ears. And, she thinks someone will make an ‘onest merchant out of ‘im…”
The two servant girls, no better than he, burst into raucous laughter at the thought.
Allan fumed. They were all having a go with him-Barnes, the wenches, the lady. He turned on his heels and strode back to the front of the house, grabbed the gilt box and made for the door. He had had enough abuse!
“Allan!”
The lady’s voice stopped him just as he reached for the handle of the door. Before he turned around, he sensed the pain in her face just from the sound of her voice. His hand fell to his side.
She continued talking to his back. “Do not listen to what others say, Allan. Believe in yourself as I believe in you.”
He turned, his eyes moist. He dropped to his knees in front of the lady and cried long-held tears. “Forgive me, milady,” he begged, grasping both her hands in his in desperate supplication. “It’s just that no one has ever treated me the way you ‘ave today. I ain’t nothing but a wretched boy who ‘as never ‘ad a ‘ome. Please, milady, just turn me out like the dog that I am. I don’ deserve it. Any of it.”
He raised his tear-filled eyes to hers. The lady of the house looked down upon him and said softly, “You do deserve it. Now, run along upstairs to your room. I’ll see that supper is brought up to you. I promise tomorrow will be better. You’ll see.”
Allan turned and walked quickly up the stairs to the room she had indicated for him. He walked though the door, to the window, and then out into the night air, down the ledge, and finally jumped down to the soft ground. He wondered how long it would be before the lady realized that her ring was missing.
He started jogging down the lane feeling a tad bit guilty. He stopped and looked back at the room he had just vacated. A light passed by the window and he saw the curtains move. He hightailed it as fast as he could in the other direction. So much for Rochdale! Maybe he should re-locate to a more populous area this time. He continued running toward the outskirts of town without another backward glance.