walked briskly through the skinny passage and I struggled to keep up with them. A beggar sat with his hand out in front of a row of apartments. He was hardly more than a pile of bones: his tattered clothes hanging on him loosely, his beard scraggly and unkempt, his eyes devoid of hope. My heart reached out to him in compassion as we passed. Young Aiden looked back at the man and said something to Alex who jerked his head in distaste and continued on. I looked up at Aiden next to me, but he was staring straight ahead with his jaw locked in concentration.
We turned the corner onto a wider street where men and women milled about, talking quietly with their heads down. The buildings all had bars over the windows and I watched with interest as an old woman opened one of the windows in the top story.
“ Garde a l’eau!” she shouted and then dumped a pot into the street below. Realization struck me and I stopped mid-stride, pulling on Aiden’s sleeve and pointing up at the window.
“ Ewww! That woman just dumped raw sewage into the street!” My eyes widened in horror as I peered down the rows of windows in the building to see the scene repeated further down.
Aiden shrugged, nonplussed. “They don’t have the luxury of a privy here in the city with so many people in tight quarters. So they dump it in the street and wait for the rain to wash it off into the river.” I made a gagging face and shook my head, understanding a bit more why he didn’t want to bring me here.
As we walked, another beggar on the street reached out and grabbed the hem of young Aiden’s jacket, pleading for bread. Aiden shook his head at the man sadly, brushing away his hand, and kept walking alongside his uncle. My mind was reeling, seeing the filthy, miserable city after having just spent such an indulgent evening at the king’s palace.
“ Come on, then.” He took my hand and pulled me toward a pub down the street. The small tavern seemed to be the only lively thing in sight, with bawdy music spilling out the doors and shouts of drunken laughter coming from within. I relaxed and smiled, grateful for the evidence of life in this dank and gloomy memory. Aiden squeezed my hand, his face drawn.
Just then I heard a woman’s piercing cry for help and my heart leapt into my throat. Young Aiden looked quickly at his uncle with a question in his eyes and Alex nodded, almost imperceptibly. Aiden took off like a shot down the side street, the woman’s cries becoming louder and increasingly frantic. We came upon two men brutally attacking a girl, their eyes full of malice and their tongues hanging out in drunken lust.
One man held her by the wrist and was crouched over her, fondling her, while the other pushed up her skirts with one hand and tugged at the front of his pants with the other. The girl’s blouse was ripped open, her breasts exposed and tears streamed down her battered face as she writhed underneath them, begging them to let her go.
Young Aiden grabbed hold of one man and jerked him to his feet, then punched him hard in the stomach. He wrenched the man’s head backward by his hair and pounded him squarely in the jaw. The blow sent him flying and he landed in a heap on the ground, unmoving.
“ Hey!” the second called out, scrambling to his feet in a wild rage. He drew a knife from his belt and lunged at Aiden.
Instinctively I screamed, “Look out!”
Aiden whirled around and caught the man’s arm, twisting it up behind his back. I heard the bones snap and the man groaned in pain, dropping his knife to the ground with a clang. Aiden’s own blade was at the man’s throat, a thin line of blood trickling down from the tip of it. He growled something under his breath in French to the assailant, who promptly wet his pants. The first man finally came to and took off running. Aiden tossed the man away in disgust and kicked him in the backside as he did, making the rapist tumble and fall to his knees. He hastily pulled himself up and
We turned the corner onto a wider street where men and women milled about, talking quietly with their heads down. The buildings all had bars over the windows and I watched with interest as an old woman opened one of the windows in the top story.
“ Garde a l’eau!” she shouted and then dumped a pot into the street below. Realization struck me and I stopped mid-stride, pulling on Aiden’s sleeve and pointing up at the window.
“ Ewww! That woman just dumped raw sewage into the street!” My eyes widened in horror as I peered down the rows of windows in the building to see the scene repeated further down.
Aiden shrugged, nonplussed. “They don’t have the luxury of a privy here in the city with so many people in tight quarters. So they dump it in the street and wait for the rain to wash it off into the river.” I made a gagging face and shook my head, understanding a bit more why he didn’t want to bring me here.
As we walked, another beggar on the street reached out and grabbed the hem of young Aiden’s jacket, pleading for bread. Aiden shook his head at the man sadly, brushing away his hand, and kept walking alongside his uncle. My mind was reeling, seeing the filthy, miserable city after having just spent such an indulgent evening at the king’s palace.
“ Come on, then.” He took my hand and pulled me toward a pub down the street. The small tavern seemed to be the only lively thing in sight, with bawdy music spilling out the doors and shouts of drunken laughter coming from within. I relaxed and smiled, grateful for the evidence of life in this dank and gloomy memory. Aiden squeezed my hand, his face drawn.
Just then I heard a woman’s piercing cry for help and my heart leapt into my throat. Young Aiden looked quickly at his uncle with a question in his eyes and Alex nodded, almost imperceptibly. Aiden took off like a shot down the side street, the woman’s cries becoming louder and increasingly frantic. We came upon two men brutally attacking a girl, their eyes full of malice and their tongues hanging out in drunken lust.
One man held her by the wrist and was crouched over her, fondling her, while the other pushed up her skirts with one hand and tugged at the front of his pants with the other. The girl’s blouse was ripped open, her breasts exposed and tears streamed down her battered face as she writhed underneath them, begging them to let her go.
Young Aiden grabbed hold of one man and jerked him to his feet, then punched him hard in the stomach. He wrenched the man’s head backward by his hair and pounded him squarely in the jaw. The blow sent him flying and he landed in a heap on the ground, unmoving.
“ Hey!” the second called out, scrambling to his feet in a wild rage. He drew a knife from his belt and lunged at Aiden.
Instinctively I screamed, “Look out!”
Aiden whirled around and caught the man’s arm, twisting it up behind his back. I heard the bones snap and the man groaned in pain, dropping his knife to the ground with a clang. Aiden’s own blade was at the man’s throat, a thin line of blood trickling down from the tip of it. He growled something under his breath in French to the assailant, who promptly wet his pants. The first man finally came to and took off running. Aiden tossed the man away in disgust and kicked him in the backside as he did, making the rapist tumble and fall to his knees. He hastily pulled himself up and
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