Tannhauser 02: The Twelve Children of Paris Read Free Page B

made, who might have lent him more prestige; but his heart rebelled against the notion. He had chosen this boy, and he would do right by him.
    Grégoire exploded in a fit of violent coughing. When he turned beetroot-red, on the way to turning blue, Tannhauser rose and pounded the flat of his hand between his shoulders. Fragments of pie scattered the table and the boy heaved for breath. He snorted hard and more detritus flew from his nostrils.
    ‘Take small bites and chew twelve times. Can you count to twelve?’
    ‘I can count to fifty.’
    ‘Then you’re better informed than most but twelve will do.’
    As Grégoire followed these orders, he caught sight of something behind Tannhauser, and his face once again turned red and he lowered his eyes to his plate in shame. Tannhauser turned.
    At the next table a pair of students sniggered while twisting their lips into grotesque shapes and mimicking an idiot’s speech. Two girls in their early teens sat with them, though neither seemed impressed by their companions’ antics. Tannhauser wiped his mouth on the back of his hand and stared at the students, who must have been the worse for wine for this entertained them, too.
    ‘If you find misfortune amusing, I can give you plenty to laugh about.’
    This too provoked a titter, more likely due to nerves than insolence, but a man was entitled to enjoy a pie without scum making mock of his lackey. By the time he was on his feet, he had one youth by the throat. The other lurched from the bench but Tannhauser seized a handful of his hair. He let them get a closer look at his face and they wilted in his hands. He dragged them to the door and into the street.
    He hauled them towards the open sewer, where mounds of filth lay in stagnant pools awaiting the shovels of the lunatics. He slammed their skulls together and left them sprawled in the ordure. He returned to the tavern. Standing in the doorway was the taller of the two girls. Her fists were clenched by her sides. He noted that both her hands were stained with ink. She stuck her chin out at him.
    ‘Why did you do that?’
    Her eyes were dark and fierce, her hair as blue as a raven and cut short, almost like a boy’s. She was skinny and he guessed her age at around thirteen. She wasn’t exactly pretty but she lacked for nothing in spirit, which in his book was the better end of the bargain. She wore no face paint but her fury lent high colour to her cheeks.
    Tannhauser dipped his head in courtesy.
    ‘A lesson in manners will stand them in good stead.’
    ‘Manners?’
    She seemed to imply that his own were less than impeccable.
    ‘You forget I invited them to apologise.’
    ‘They were cruel to your boy, yes. But you attacked them before they had a chance to reply.’
    ‘You’ll forgive me if our recollections differ.’
    She glared at him, unwilling to relinquish her ground. Tannhauser looked over his shoulder. The youths had clambered as far as their hands and knees, and were assessing the damage to their clothing, which was catastrophic. They saw him watching them and must have seen the girl, too. They stood up and fled.
    ‘You see? No harm done that a soak in the river won’t repair.’
    He turned back to the girl. She was not mollified.
    ‘Though if I may say so,’ he continued, ‘abandoning you to the company of a brute is a black mark against their gallantry.’
    ‘I am not in your company.’
    ‘Then accept my invitation to share our table, and make it so. Mattias Tannhauser, Count of La Penautier, Magistral Knight of the Order of Saint John.’
    She did not reply but no longer clenched her fists.
    ‘I’m hardly an hour in this city, and for the first time, too. So far I’ve found the natives less than cordial.’
    She folded her arms beneath her breasts. ‘I do not wonder.’
    Tannhauser inclined his head in acceptance of this rebuke.
    ‘In any event, I apologise for any distress I may have caused you.’
    Her lips were compressed, as if now she were as