The Devil's Opera(44)

Frau Anna folded the clothes together, then tied the bundle with a bit of twine. She held it out to Simon. It took him a moment to realize that he was supposed to take it; he had never had a package of his own to carry.

Ursula said her farewells, then turned and limped down the street, Hans at her side. Simon followed behind, as usual, and noticed as he did so that Hans was very careful not to actually grab Ursula or hold her while she was walking but still managed to be close enough to provide instant support if she needed it.

Their progress was slow, but others would make way for them. Simon suspected this had more to do with Hans glowering at people than it did people giving way out of courtesy for Ursula’s infirmity. He knew that if Hans had glowered at him, he would certainly have moved out of the way.

Ursula walked with her head held high, moving with an odd grace, despite her limp. They passed one vendor after another, from cart to ramshackle booth to oilskin laid on the ground. Several of the vendors would speak to Hans or his sister. A few nodded to Simon as well.

They stopped in front of another cart. Simon assumed this must be old Herman’s.

“Fraulein Metzger,” a man stepped up and gave a short bow. “Herr Metzger.” Hans nodded in return. Simon was ignored for the moment, which was just fine with him.

Old Herman did not look so old, at least not when he was compared with Frau Anna. His bushy beard and the hair that stuck out like a fringe from under his small hat were iron gray rather than snow white. His face wasn’t as cross-hatched with wrinkles as the old woman’s was; instead it bore deep furrows and seams. When his mouth opened, there were teeth present; not a lot, mind you, but still teeth peeped out from behind his lips. He was of middling height and of solid build despite his age.

“A coat,” Herman said after Ursula had made known the object of their quest. He peered at Simon and beckoned him to come closer. “Hmm, yes, a coat for this lad. Have I seen you around here, boy?”

“Maybe,” Simon muttered.

“Ah, well, with my memory I would not remember from one day to the next.” Herman nodded several times with vigor, then started. “A coat. Yes, indeed, a coat.” He turned and began rummaging through the piles on his cart. “No, not that one…nor that one, either…tch, definitely not that one…” Simon smiled as the old man kept up a running commentary. “Hmm…this one?” Herman held it up and stared at it, then tossed it back in the cart. “No. Keep looking.”

After a few more minutes of searching accompanied by monologue, Herman pulled an item out of the bottom of the pile. “Aha! You just thought you would escape me.” He shook it out, and it took form as a faded green coat of a size to perhaps fit Simon.

Ursula took the coat and examined it, checking the material and the seams. It passed her grudging judgment, so she held it out to Simon. “Here, try this on. Let’s see how it fits.”

Hans reached over and took the bundle of clothes from Simon, leaving him free to try the coat on. It took a few moments to get into it; sliding his right arm down the sleeve was a bit of a challenge, but with help from Hans to hold the front of the coat open he managed. He turned and faced Ursula.

“Mm-hmm.” She touched a finger to her lips as she studied him, and reached out to adjust the lapels on the front of the coat so it would hang straight. A definite nod. “I think it will do. It is a bit large, but that leaves room for growing. Not a bad thing with a boy, I am told.” She turned to Herman. “How much?”

Again the bargaining, again the back and forth, again ending in Hans pulling money from his pocket and counting it out. Simon’s head was beginning to spin. How much money they had spent, just on him! He had never dreamed of that happening. He smoothed his hand down the front of the coat, feeling the warmth it gave him.

Ursula turned from accepting Herman’s farewell, craned her head and looked around.

“What are you looking for?” Hans asked.

“Something…yes, over there.” She pointed and led the way, stopping in front of a trestle with pairs of shoes on it. The woman who was there was tall and stooped, with hollowed cheeks and sunken eyes. She didn’t look healthy to Simon, and after she gave a rheumy cough he edged away from the table.

“You need shoes, mistress?” the woman asked.

“For the boy,” Ursula replied. Her gaze wandered over the table of secondhand footwear and finally lit on a pair of half-boots. “Hans,” she said, putting her hand out to touch them, “measure these against Simon’s foot.”

The bundle of clothes got passed to Ursula while Hans picked a boot up, stepped around behind Simon and pulled his foot up to measure against the sole of the boot. Simon had to wave his arm wildly to maintain his balance while this was going on. He sighed with relief and shoved his foot back into its clog when Hans let go.