Chapter Four!

CHAPTER FOUR

“WHEN I find that coward, he will regret this day,” Victor muttered as he shoved a young couple out of his way. The man spun around. His expression flashed from anger to fear as recognition set in.

Maurice laughed and pushed him again, harder, knocking him completely off-balance. The young man tried to remain afoot, but the uneven cobblestones defeated him, causing him to stumble and fall to his knees. He scrambled to his feet, grabbed his lady’s arm and hurried her away.

The day after the ill-fated soirée, Victor and Maurice scoured Bordeaux searching for René. As each hour passed with no sign of him, Victor’s anger increased. “The coward must be hiding in his room.”

“He cannot stay there forever,” Maurice said. “’Tis hot and all this walking has made me thirsty.”

“I know what I thirst for, and ’tis not wine.” Victor grasped his sword’s hilt. “I intend to disfigure this one. The fool is far too pretty and will surely thank me for giving him the look of a man.”

Victor barged into a couple returning to their carriage from the day’s shopping expedition. Overburdened, the man’s packages spilled from his arms onto the unforgiving street. Crash, the familiar sound of breaking glass. Heads turned. A blood-red liquid seeped into the gravel between the stones.

“You clumsy oaf! Look what you have done. You will pay for that wine and everything else you have damaged.”

“Do you dare to insult me?” Victor stepped closer, his smirk inches from the luckless individual’s face.

Eyes widened as the man recognized Victor. He stammered, “Uh, I meant that…”

“What did you mean by ‘clumsy oaf’?” Victor smiled with brutal anticipation as his hand again moved to rest on the hilt of his sword. Sweat beaded on the man’s now pale forehead, his breath came faster in gulps. “Why, monsieur, I was swearing at myself for being such a clumsy fellow. I often get in my own way.”

Victor joyfully glared down at the now shaking man. “I notice that you carry a sword, sir. Are you prepared to use it?”

“I am sure that will not be necessary. No harm has been done here.” The man stepped to his left.

Victor moved to block him. “Oh, I beg to differ. You have accosted my sense of propriety. Even were you not speaking to me, my sensitive nature has suffered from the roughness of your tone. I demand satisfaction, monsieur. If you will send your seconds to meet with Maurice here, we can arrange to settle this debt.”

“Surely no duel is warranted. I beg your pardon if I have offended you, monsieur. S’il vous plaît, accept my apology, and let us be on our way.”

“If only I could. But I have been sorely unsettled, and all of these fine people witnessed that offense.” Victor glanced at the crowd that had gathered for some afternoon entertainment and nodded. “I doubt if even first blood will satisfy the empty feeling I am experiencing. But…” Victor let the word hang there.

“But what, monsieur? I am most disposed to agree to any compensation you might require.”

I will have your sword.”

“My sword?”

“Oui, your sword. Clearly you have no use for it, and I want to make certain that you do not injure yourself with it.”

The man withdrew his sword and handed it to Victor, hilt first. Victor pretended to study it. “Not a bad weapon, but I am certain ’tis made of inferior steel. Much like its owner. I must test it.” He touched the tip of the sword to the ground and smashed his boot into the blade. The blade bent into an L shape. “Non, I must have been mistaken in my appraisal. An inferior blade would have broken. This one did not, so I am more confident you will not harm yourself with it.” Victor handed the bent sword back to the man. “See that you are more careful when you are out walking, or you may find the next man less gracious and forgiving than I.” Victor smiled. “Come, Maurice. Now I am thirsty.”