Peter & Max - Bill Willingham [61]
“He wasn’t so clever as to avoid being captured by you,” Hagan said, speaking for the first time.
“True, honored Master of Thieves,” Carl said, “but no one can avoid my notice, or ever outwit me. I’m simply too skilled to be held up as an example to measure others against. Otherwise, no one here, not even the gloried king himself, could pass muster in our fine company.” That brought a short round of snorts and chuckles from the gallery of young thieves in the room.
Hagan looked slightly vexed by the remark, but curiously the king didn’t. Instead he smiled for the first time.
“Peter,” the king said, “is what Carl tells us true? Are you fit to join our Brotherhood, knowing that it commits you to a life spent among us, sharing your wealth and marrying your sacred honor to us for all time?”
“Yes, King,” was all that Peter said, knowing that he had no choice. The life as a thief, in the company of same, had to be better than the alternative. Peter correctly guessed that saying as much would do him no good, so he refrained from pointing out so obvious a fact.
“Then I’ll defer my mortal judgment until we see if you can indeed impress us,” the king said. “But you still have to pay for your crime, so, not only will you have to perfect your art quick and sure, you’ll have to do it with only a single hand. My new decision is that you have to lose one hand as just payment for your previous misdeeds. Carl, be sure to find out which limb he favors, so we don’t deprive him of his better thieving hand.”
Once again the king started to rise. This time it was Peter who interrupted him, surprising all in the room at his temerity, Peter included.
“But, King, I’m not actually a —” Peter began, but then reconsidered his words, knowing it was a time to be most careful. “What I mean to say is, in addition to being a skilled thief, I’m also an accomplished player of the pipes. With only one hand I won’t be able to do that any longer.”
“So? What’s that to me?”
“I’d like to request an entirely undeserved favor, King Erwin.”
“This child has no right to ask favors from the king,” Hagan said.
“Of course not,” Carl jumped in. “Who does? I believe that’s why it’s called a favor and not an obligation.” There were more soft titters of laughter in the room.
“What is it you’d like to ask?” the king said. “Maybe I’ll consider it.”
“Since I’m about to lose one hand,” Peter said, “and will never thereafter be able to play, I’d like your permission to play my flute for you one last time, here in front of this company, before your fair sentence is inflicted on me.”
The king considered for a long time, a frown creasing his face. No one dared speak while he did so, until the queen, his wife, grew weary of the protracted silence and unrelieved tension.
“Oh, let the boy play,” she said aloud. And a smile touched her face for the first time, brightening it considerably. “It’s been too long since we’ve heard any music in this dull town.”
“Because it’s been forbidden, dear Queen,” Hagan offered.
“So what if it is?” she said. “Aren’t we criminals? What’s the use in breaking the law at all, if not to enrich our dull lives? A little flute music isn’t likely to pierce these thick walls and betray us to the gobs. If they’re close enough to hear that much, then they’ve already got us surrounded for other reasons. Play on, young Peter, and show us what you can do.”
“I believe my queen just gave you a command, boy,” the king said, settling back into his chair with a look that said, “you’d better impress me.”
Which is exactly what Peter did.
First he removed his cloak and let it fall on the floor beside him. Then he began removing the various market items he’d stolen, beginning with the thick slab of bacon, which had been stuffed down the front of his jacket. He followed that by digging out the onions and potatoes from his various pockets and makeshift caches. As he did this, laughter began to build once again in the chamber.
“So, is it to be music and a juggling act as well?” the king