At the Queen's Reception
Air date: 14 May 2011
Present: All
Tuesday, January 14, 1868
South side of the Thames
Well after dark
The evening a day after we're given the mission, Dionysius goes undercover in an anarchist dive bar, the Princess of Schwienfort. Several of the bar’s regular anarchist patrons are there, including an Irishman by name of Riordon, Riordon’s brother who declines to give a name, and a Russian agent provocateur, Aleksandr Kazulin (now running on English soil with the name of Kristoff “Kozzie” Koziusco). Marius Jacob isn’t there as hoped but Jacob’s woman of the hour, appropriately named Doxie is there, striking up a conversation with the owner/bartender, the eponymous Princess of Schweinfort. And eponymous is warranted, since the woman behind the bar really is the deposed Princess of the small German kingdom and Napoleon was the agent of her exile.
Beignet introduces himself to one and all as Dion, an anti-Napoleonic rabble rouser. The talk is all about class oppression, the unfair fate of the working man, the fat growing rich off the misery of the poor. What does anyone think of the upcoming reception with the Bonaparte nephews arriving up the Thames in an airship? Opinions fly around the room. The theme is rancorous, the emotions bitter. Napoleon left a lot of burnt bridges in his wake and the fact that England is hosting descendants of his is a very sore point with the patrons. The Princess bartender is cut to the quick over the loss of her ancestral home and the ogre busboy she has working for her comforts her—he’s very devoted to her.
Beignet brings up the topic of killing them when they arrive at the reception. It’s a topic that livens up the bar. The Princess quietly says that she wished she had a rocket to shoot the airship down, to blast them into tiny burning little pieces, then gather up the pieces so she can burn them some more. Kozzie and Riordan are all for it, hells yes! Dion sighs and bemoans Jacob’s absence—now there is a hero of the downtrodden peoples he would have loved to have met. Riordan says the man’s been in the Times a lot, he should read the Times. Beignet says he is but a poor exile from France, he cannot afford the papers. Riordan counters with aye, but you can steal them now, can’t you? Beignet returns with, for the sake of the Enlightenment, he would steal the papers and sell them to the capitalist oppressors.
Riordan agrees and isn’t the event supposed to be going on in about a week? Beignet says doughtily that we should form a secret society, with a hangout and a secret handshake, the better to plot the downfall of the event. We should get a cannon and shoot the airship, sending it spiraling down to crash into the Palace, killing all the British Royals. Kozzie snorts. Of course, let me pull the cannon from my pocket—oh, wait. No. Is in my other pair of pants. How do we get cannon? And who would be knowledgeable enough to fire it? Marius Jacob is the man to ask for that job. As for the cannon … Riordan suggests raiding the East India Warehouses in Lambeth. It’s got all sorts of rockets and armaments and stuff going to India. Cannons, too, and guns. Excellent plan! Beignet draws his knife and pierces his palm—let us shake on it and be blood brothers. The ogre looks dubiously at the blade and then at his hand. The blade would probably break in two if it was turned on him, but … okay. Doxie speaks up and says that there are other bars Jacob frequents and she knows of one or two. Perhaps she could take them to those and point the man out to Dion and recruit Jacob for our glorious plan? The Princess thinks that is a wonderful idea and she even volunteers her ogre servant to accompany them. The ogre adores his mistress and pledges he will go and come back. He agrees to give Dionysius a ride on his shoulders to spare the Hobbit the chore of keeping up with the others’ longer strides. Beignet toasts the Princess’s contribution to their endeavor and she’s flattered. Everyone but the Princess troops out onto the streets with Doxie leading the way. On the way, Riordan suggests that even if we don’t find Jacob, we should go to the warehouse anyway and steal ourselves some guns. Koziusco agrees.
Doxie leads them to a rather crowded bar, filled with people coming off-shift from the docks and the factories. Doxie sees Jacob at a far table and she makes her way for it. Riordan bellies up to the bar and starts buying rounds for the house, grousing loudly about how he works the docks for a pittance a day and has nothing to show for it thanks to the fat cats calling the shots.
A man from the crowd asks Riordan, “What are you doin’, man?”
“What do you mean, what’m I doin’, man?” Riordan retorts that the grand Hobbit here has a grand plan for taking down the Royals.
The man counters does he have a single piece of brain rattling around in his idea box, man?
“What?” scoffs Riordan.
“Don’t you remember what happened the last time you did this?” his heckler demands.
“The last time I did it—,” says Riordan.
“The high ups had you in jail,” yells the man who turns to the crowd and fills them in. “My brother was in jail because of him.”
“That’s because he was a damned fool!” scoffs Riordan.
“And so are you, man!” yells the prisoner’s brother.
“And that is an injustice they have done your brother!” interjects Beignet.
“And who are you?” the prisoner’s brother wants to know.
“I am t—.” Beignet begins.
“I’m tellin’ ye, man,” interrupts Riordan. “He’s the one with the grand plan.”
Beignet introduces himself as Fra Hobbit, only as it comes out of his mouth, it sounds like, “Frah Hob-BEET’.
The prisoner’s brother stares at Beignet and Riordan for a moment, then says to the Irishman—“you are a fool.”
Riordan yells at him to drink yer beer, man.
“I’ll drink your beer but—.”
“Of course you’ll drink my beer, man, and you’ll listen to what I have to say.”
“Please, you’re going to say the same thing that you said the last time. Nothing’s going to get done and all you’re going to do is end up in jail and your livelihood is going to be ruined,” the man says scornfully.
“What livelihood?” sneers Riordan. “I work at the dock. I show up. And say I’m … Jimmy McBain or Jimmy … O’Harahan and I’m Irish and I’m a dock worker and what? One of the others are going to say otherwise? And they’ll hire me and I’ll spend sixteen bloody hours unloading ships and working for the man for a pittance? D’you know how much money I’ve been throwin’ out here for beer?”
And the back and forth between Jimmy Riordan and the other man, Seamus, goes on like this for some time. And once the yelling starts, there is any number of people in the crowd who are edging for the door. Seamus has a temper on him, now, and tonight it looks like the man’s itchin’ to go on a tear. The sort that brings the bloody peelers in to break it up and break some heads in the process.
Riordan bellows, “You’re a bloody fool, man!”
Seamus slams his beer down saying, “The only fool here is you!”
And the tear is on!
While that’s going on, Doxie joins Marius Jacob at his table in the back. And when Marius Jacob slips out the back for the alley, she follows him. Beignet follows after a discreet interval, going to the alley to piss out some beer, just as Jacob is putatively doing. The press of people is tight, enough so that Koziusco loses sight of Doxie at the worst possible moment and mistakenly follows another woman right out of the bar.
Meanwhile, the ogre looks mournfully at the beer he’d been given—the tankard is like a thimble in his great big hands—and seeing the fight erupting around him and the Hobbit missing, the ogre mournfully goes back to the Princess as he’d promised. He may have been dispatched to serve as the Hobbit’s ride but since the Hobbit is no longer here, he no longer needs to serve as a ride. Which suits the ogre fine. He loves the Princess and cannot bear to leave her alone or leave her side. He jogs back to the Princess of Schweinfort, happy that he can return and leave all the confusing shouting and brawling to others. When he arrives the Princesss is surprised. Did you get a cannon already, Andre? I don’t see it. No cannon, Princess, the ogre mournfully replies. They spoke words and … wandered away. Why must I always be surrounded by incompetents, asks the Princess of the general air. Andre looks crestfallen. The Princess sincerely adds, but not you. You are as competent as you are capable. Andre beams! He loves his Princess.
Back at the other bar, Seamus and Jimmy are having a real throwdown. The crowd that remains are cheering and egging them on. Beignet finds the alley a mite crowded—apparently tinkling the beer away is a popular activity. He spots Marius Jacob walking away a little farther on … and the man reaches into his coat. Doxie calls out to him—for the obvious reasons, given her profession. Jacob stops, apparently for the obvious reasons, given her profession. Beignet claims a spot on the alley wall that will let him watch the both of them and starts getting rid of some beer.
Under the cover of negotiating price, Jacob asks Doxie what she’s doing here. She points out Beignet and tells him he’s interested in shooting down the Bonapartes. Jacob tells her Beignet’s a peeler, should’ve shot him where he stood. Taken aback, Doxie says softly that she wasn’t aware of that. Jacob tells her that when he sees her comin’ into the bar with the police, he has to wonder what are you up to? Frankly, he’s got plans afoot right now and he can’t be arrested. Who were those people with him? She tells him what she knows.
Beignet is peeing and complaining loudly about how much he hates the Napoleons of France when Jacob walks over. Beignet buttons up hastily.
“You wish to bring down Napoleon?” Jacob murmurs.
“I wish this wall were the face of Napoleon himself. Ptui!” Beignet spits on the bricks. “Are you interested in liberating all of humanity and Hobbit-kind and also the Ogre inside who wishes to be free. I pee on the face of the enemy oppressors.”
“I see. And where are you from?” asks Jacob.
“I am from Rheims, France,” Beignet replies in French, adding, “Actually a small village north of Rheims.
(After all Beginet needs to put himself as close to Belgium as possible to disguise his accent.)
Beignet holds out his hand to shake with Jacob. Jacob takes it. Beignet casts a confusion spell on the anarchist, draws his gun and shoots him in the alley before making good his escape. Doxie starts screaming. People pour into the alley from the bar. Riordan and his brother run out and Doxie points her finger at Beignet running away.
“He shot him!” she screams.
Riordan and his brother give chase. Beignet makes a beeline for the closest thoroughfare with a bobby on the beat. The night is dark, the alleys and by streets twisting and filled with shadows. Beignet manages to give his pursuers the slip—save for Riordan. Beignet runs out of yet another alley and somehow manages to avoid running smack into a bobby.
Saved!
Riordan runs out of the alley and passes Beignet and gets to the bobby first. Riordan whips out a piece of paper out from under his coat, shows it to the policeman, and points at Beignet. He says Beignet just gunned down a man in cold blood in an alleyway. The policeman looks at the card, looks at Beignet, and promptly arrests him and Riordan. The bobby blows his whistle and a paddy wagon rolls up. They are thrown in the back and taken straightaway to the Lambeth police station.
Saved?
Once at the station, Riordan stands revealed as an agent provocateur for the police. His job is to go into known dens of malcontents, stir them to anti-Crown sentiment, and then have himself and everyone else involved arrested. Riordan’s cover thus maintained and the miscreants in jail, Riordan is let free to do the same all over again. The paper he showed the bobby on the street is his Warrant Card.
Under questioning, Beignet says he’s working as an agent for the British Crown to prevent the plot to assassinate the Bonaparte nephews. The person in question was an anarchist working with the nefarious jewel thief Lupin to try to steal the big diamond. Please do not bandy this information about. He shows them his Thaumaturgy license. He asks to send a message to Jo’s office off Baker Street to bail him out and he’s escorted to a cell until her arrival, amongst people who neither recognize nor respect his class or station. Some of them look him over speculatively.
Beignet cowers in the corner, protesting mightily he is a full grown Hobbit and not a boy.
The hour is late when a loud knock sounds on Josephine’s door. She answers it in her dressing robe with her pistol in her pocket. She puts her foot to her door and opens it a crack, hand ready on her pistol. There is a dour-looking official man on her doorstep.
“Yes?” she asks.
“Pardon me, Miss. I’m Inspector Graves with Scotland Yard.”
“Yes, Inspector. What can I do for you?”
Josephine opens the door wider. The Inspector sighs and says there’s a man in the Lambethside police station, well, Hobbit. Claims he works for her. He shot a man last night. Josephine sighs and asks, Why? Was he not French enough? Please come in. It’s not something we should discuss on the street. Perhaps, given your state of dress, I should wait here until you are properly attired, he says. Perhaps you are right. Give me five minutes.
Josephine pulls on her jodhpurs and boots and hides them under a skirt, dons a shirtwaist and her leather great coat, slips her gun in her pocket and a knife up each sleeve. She puts her hair up in a quick twist, anchors it with a pin. For paperwork, she grabs her Letter of Introduction to Mr. Brompton, Head of Security for the coming reception, and her Warrant Card, then thuds down the stairs to let the Inspector inside.
“Lead on,” she says.
They sit at her desk.
“Madame Arceneaux?” Graves asks.
“Sir?” she answers.
“Well, the Hobbit in question implied that you were working for the government in some sort of official fashion.”
“My Warrant Card and the Letter of Introduction,” she says, promptly handing them over.
Inspector Graves inspects them. He looks at her over the edge of the letter.
“So, I didn’t hear that the people of the Diogenes Club were in the habit of shooting people in the street.”
“They are not and I believe I will get a full accounting from the man when I see him.” (off his look) “Well, Inspector, the facts—as succinctly as I can put them—are these:
“You do know of the presentation of the Pink Diamond from India, with the Bonaparte Nephews to the Queen at the Banqueting Hall. We have reason to suspect that the famous Jewel thief Lupin is going to be here in some capacity to steal the diamond in an effort to create an international incident between the two countries. We also have reason to believe the anarchist Marius Jacob is also in London to sow discord, create an international incident, sow murder and mayhem, whatever it is these anarchists do. My team and I have been dispatched to stop these plans if at all possible. I had hoped that if we were able to apprehend any of those two individuals, they would still be alive so we could question them. Until I speak to the man you’ve detained, I have no further facts to give you.”
“Well, then,” says Graves, “let us return to the police station so you can talk to your man… Hobbit.”
“If it is to be done, Josephine sighs. Best that it be done quickly. Let us go.”
Josephine goes to Lambeth with Inspector Graves. There she sees Beignet behind bars.
“La Bastille! La Bastille!” he yells. Then he sees Josephine and calls out: “Madame!”
“Monsieur,” she says slowly. “I hope you have a compelling reason for being on the wrong side of the bars?”
“I believe I do”, he says. “Perhaps in an examination room we can discuss the matter.”
“I shall see what I can do.”
Inspector Graves finds us an uncomfortable room for us to use. The door closes and Beignet explains:
“Well, the positives of the operation are I obtained audience with Marius Jacob and dispatched him. The negatives are an agent of the police followed me on my way to escape.”
At which point, Riordan comes in. Beignet motions to the Irishman, saying: “This is the gentleman who is an excellent representative of … Bobbydom. And had I committed an actual crime, I would have deserved the stern arm of this man to apprehend me.”
“Last I checked,” says Riordan, clearing his throat, “executing individuals without Crown Authority constitutes crime in this country.”
Beignet counters: “I was acting as an agent of the government attempting to force down an assassination attempt that would lead to a diplomatic incident, which would eventually lead to complications in the war against Russia.”
“Monsieur Beignet,” Josephine says evenly, holding up her Warrant Card. “Do you have one of these?”
“I was confronted in the alleyway by Marius Jacob. My choices were either to deal with him there or be dealt with in a manner which …” (makes a gesture for death)
“Did he draw a weapon?” Josephine asks.
“He was in the process of drawing a weapon when I had to lay him out in the alleyway.”
“Did you find a weapon the body?”
“I ran from the scene in order to be not overwhelmed.”
“How did you identify him as Marius Jacob?”
“I met his woman. She told me who he was.”
“Did you ascertain if she was telling the truth?”
“Yes, he introduced himself to me as Marius Jacob.”
“I see. Monsieur Beignet. Did it not occur to you, a Thaumaturge of your skill and maturity, that you could have found a less lethal way to retain this individual so that we might question him?”
“I thought perhaps the Countess could question him.”
“A dead man?” Josephine’s tone grows colder as her temper stirs.
“She’s had many conversations with dead people. I could not by main force overpower someone more than twice my height.”
“Then how did you manage to kill him?” Josephine asks. “Because obviously you did overcome someone twice your height. How did you do it?”
“Well, with my trusty gun. Which I—”
“Your gun.”
“Yes. I befuddled him—”
“Befuddled him how?”
“With Thaumaturgy. If I befuddled him (points to Riordan), I should have eliminated the last threat to my escape—”
“Could you not have simply befuddled him and rendered him unconscious and then brought him to us?”
“He is more than twice my height, Madame. How without access to a ladder could I reach the back of his head to conk him on the head? Besides, he had this woman there. Who was quite a screamer.”
Riordan leans over and whispers something in Grave’s ear and they both snicker.
“The Countess can have a séance and communicate with him now”, Beignet says.
“I must say, you are … presuming much ... on her behalf,” Josephine’s voice is soft but steely. “And I must say, Beignet, that I find your use of force precipitous, ill-thought out, and I daresay it could possibly lead to consequences that neither you nor I can judge the severity of. I will certainly be reporting this to the Colonel.”
“Well, I too shall explain the situation to the Colonel.”
“But it may be that he is not the final arbiter as to what is right or wrong or what will be done with you. I just regret that you chose to take care of Marius in this fashion. It certainly does not help us. If he had accomplices, if they knew of the plan and could carry it out without him, we have no way of finding out if Flora is unable to get the information we seek.”
“I have every confidence in her abilities as a Channeller.”
“Well, your confidence in not yet God’s Will, now is it?” Josephine rises from her chair in slow deliberation, keeping a tight rein on her voice and temper. “Excuse me.”
“Excuse me, Miss. Might I have a word?” asks Inspector Graves.
“Certainly. Let’s do it elsewhere.”
They walk out and close the door and ten paces later, Josephine can’t contain herself any longer. She starts muttering under her breath as Graves leads her aside: That precipitous idiot. I can’t believe he did that. We could have used Marius Jacob. Oh, I want to mop the floor with him. I cannot believe he did that. That is not the proper parameter of his mission.
“Miss Arceneaux.”
“Sir,” Josephine comes to attention. She can rant later.
“Obviously this is Club business?”
Obviously.
“And obviously, this guy, he might have been … I don’t know what. But at worst, a foreigner or at best he was a foreigner and somebody who … perhaps was involved in something.”
Josephine sighs, thinking of the opportunities lost with the anarchist’s death, as well as the possibility of retribution from his friends. Graves keeps talking.
“It can be made to go away. You’ll need to speak to the Colonel.”
“I agree,” Josephine says, there being nothing for it.
“However, obviously we can’t have him just shooting guns randomly inside the City limits.”
“No,” Josephine agrees. “Absolutely not.”
“Now, I would cut him loose. Because frankly if the Diogenes Club decides he needs be loose, he should be loose. He is their mage. However if he comes back to my police station anytime soon, I am going to make sure he’s locked in a different cell he might not get out of.”
“Sir, don’t tempt me.”
“And much as someone may unfortunately be defending himself here, he might find himself in a similar situation.”
“I understand.”
“Now, there’s also the question of the body.”
“I know not where it is.”
“I know where it is. It’s pretty simple. It’s going to be buried tomorrow like all the other bodies that get found.”
“Might I examine it before we leave?”
“Sure.” Graves blinks. “It’s … um … Go down to the Cold Basement, you’ll find all the bodies from the night.”
And scarily enough, in London of that time, four or five bodies a night would not be unusual. Josephine pauses as she turns for the Basement.
“If you deem it necessary, you may put Beignet back in the cell you held him in until I come back from examining the body.” It occurs to her too late that perhaps Beignet might have some magic that might be useful in the examination. Right now, however, Josephine is too livid—and too busy maintaining a pleasant face—to want to have anything to do with the Hobbit. It would come to blows, otherwise. At least for the split second it took to have a befuddle spell cast on her.
“It would be a pleasure.”
They part company and Josephine goes down to the Cold Basement. Her nose tells her where to go. And there she finds Marius Jacob on a slab. She examines the body and finds:
1) A couple pounds in coin and some francs.
2) A hand-drawn map of the East India Co. warehouse and the building downriver next to it, complete with floor plans. There is also an upstairs plan of the East India warehouse.
There are a few other bodies in the Cold Basement—two floaters, two stabbing victims, a burned corpse, and one person who looked to have simply died of old age. Marius Jacob is the only person present dead by gunshot wound.
Josephine reviews the evidence she’s found. The amount in pound coins would be more than what somebody of Marius Jacob’s apparent class would normally have in his pockets. The maps are really quickly drawn, not too meticulous. There is nothing marked on the map aside from the floor plan, suggesting to Josephine that whatever the target was in the warehouse, its location was already known. Or perhaps no one dared mark or name the target in case the maps were lost or stolen.
With the monetary payment and a floor plan to the warehouse directly across the river from the reception in hand, Josephine can only conclude that Marius Jacob was indeed intending some harm. Thinking back on her own tour of the facilities, Josephine remembers the trouble Mr. Stross had with the dockside cargo. Congreve rockets had been set out at riverside when they should have been packed away. Could this be what Marius Jacob intended?
There is no telling. The man is dead. Josephine leaves the Cold Basement and heads upstairs to share the evidence with Inspector Graves. She tells him that it seems Marius Jacob was involved in the events the Colonel had tasked to their mission. Inspector Graves says that the East India Warehouse is hit at least 4 or 5 times a year by people wanting its weapons.
Graves: Two months ago the Feinians tried to steal a couple crates of guns.
Josephine: I’m sure.
Graves: We’ve got Riordan working that area now.
Graves asks what she wants done with Beignet. She tells him she will take him off his hands. She asks if Graves would like her to pass on any message from him to the Colonel. Graves tells her he’s already sent word to the Colonel. It’s past 4 A.M. and it’s time to go. Josephine is shown to the holding cell and she takes Beignet by the ear and holds it all the way to the curb. He hails a cab and she, still holding onto his ear—she’s still furious with him, though she says not a word—helps him into the cab when it arrives. Beignet has the cab take him to his Thaumaturge Club so he can wash up and change back into his clothes.
Beignet: And now we must go see the Colonel.
Josephine: Yes, we will.
Beignet: And I will try to be kind when I describe how you left one of his agents in a cell with pederasts.
Josephine (softly in German): It couldn’t have happened to a nicer guy.
No, she’s not pleased at all over the shooting. Nope.
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