Fallen Read Free

their bridles. “Where to,
sir?” he asked with a thick accent.
    “We should like to exchange some currency,”
my father replied. “Could you take us to a bank nearby?”
    The driver turned slightly toward us. “Of
course, sir. I know just the one.” He snapped his reins and set us
off through the streets, our carriage vibrating upon the laid
stones. The metronome of hoof-clops lulled me as I tried to put the
images of the hanging out of my thoughts.
    Rows of shops passed by on either side where
ladies in fancy dresses and finely dressed gentlemen spent their
wares. I wondered at taller structures which rose behind them;
especially a cathedral with stone columns and images of saints cut
from polished stone. The bells chimed four times from a high tower,
alerting the populace as to the time of day.
    When we arrived at the bank building, I
noticed how impressive it was—grey stone and marble columns,
polished brass doorknobs upon mahogany paneled doors. The carriage
stopped in front and my father paid the driver with a little money
sent to him by Mr. Thomas to be used until he acquired his own
currency. The driver tipped his hat gratefully. “Thank you, sir.
Shall I wait for you?”
    “No, but thank you.” My father helped me
down from the carriage. “I’m sure we’ll manage to catch another one
when we’re ready.”
    We stepped away just as a young gentleman
and his lady summoned the carriage from down the street. The driver
gave the reins a slight snap and the horses drew the carriage
toward them.
    I followed my father to the doors and
noticed a man staring at us. He stood with his back against the
bank building dressed in well-worn clothes and a cap. He hadn’t
shaved recently and had dark circles under his eyes. His piercing
blue eyes watched my father as he opened the door to the bank and
stepped inside. His gaze turned to me, grinning. For some reason he
made me shudder.
    Following my father inside the bank, I gazed
in wonder at the finery of it. Brass fixtures, polished wood and
stately marble loomed everywhere my eyes fell. The clerks dressed
in tailored suits and many wore wire spectacles upon their
noses.
    My father conducted his business with a
teller while I roamed close by. I found a seating area and sank
into one of the leather chairs provided. It smelled quite nice and
was incredibly comfortable. I rubbed the leather arms and watched
the glinting sunlight play upon the great chandelier crystals.
London’s citizens marched on outside the tall windows.
    My father woke me from my daydreaming once
he had concluded his business. “Come along, Brody. We’ll find
something to eat and then look up Mr. Thomas.” I hopped out of my
comfortable chair and followed him back outside. Once we had
reached the street again, my father began looking for an available
carriage. I looked back to the man standing against the wall and
found him looking at my father again. He noticed me staring and
averted his eyes.
    “I suppose we could walk a bit and find a
pub or somewhere to get a bite,” my father said. “Let’s try down
this way.” We merged with the flow of people going our way and were
off, keeping pace with the human river.
    After some time in our wandering, my father
stopped and took stock of where we had come. “Honestly, Brody, I’m
not quite sure how to get around this city.”
    “Perhaps, Father, if we—”
    Someone stepped close and interrupted.
“Pardon me, sir, are you having trouble finding your way?”
    I looked up to find the same gentleman in
the shabby clothing that had been standing outside the bank
building earlier. He glanced at me, flashing that same devilish
grin. My father shook his hand, thankful for any assistance he
could gain.
    “Yes sir, my son and I would be most
grateful for some help finding a place to eat,” he said.
    “Of course, I’d be happy to show you an
excellent place and not so bad on the cost neither.” The man smiled
at my father, revealing his yellow teeth.