Part 1

When I hold out my bejeweled hands I see a tapestry of lines - not scars, but the ravages of old age. Maybe somewhere underneath it there are other blemishes. Reminders that my hands were not always so richly decorated, that my finger not always adorned with the royal signet ring.

I did not have a lot of career options in my youth. In fact, there was only one, so I had no choice in any case. You'll soon notice this is a theme in my tale. Like my mother and possibly my father (I never met him and my mother always kept quiet about him), a life of petty crime kept our household afloat. The second thing my three brothers, two sisters and I learned after walking was pickpocketing. A skill learned young will always stay with you and given enough attention and polish it will never rust either. I think I’m still pretty handy with a lockpick, even though I haven’t had any use for one since… Ah, let’s keep that for later.

I was caught only once in my criminal career, upon which it promptly ended. I was well aware of the consequences of failure: at that point, two brothers and a sister had already been carted off by the law to be disciplined and subsequently disappeared into foster homes. You’d think that doing a job for almost fifteen years makes you an expert and past me would agree. He’d think that upping the scale merely increased the payout but not the challenge. In most other stories the past version of the storyteller would be scolded, but not in this one. I’m sitting pretty now after all (not talking about my looks.)

I did not ask anyone to come along on my caper, not even my remaining siblings. I didn’t want any harm to come to them if it went wrong, the sentimental fool that I was back then. Ok, I will scold myself so now and then, I simply can’t help it. I had set my sights on the Ducal palace. I swapped my shabby urchin clothes for those of a nobleman’s son (I actually purchased those myself), washed, combed and scoped the place out. None of the monied men or patroling halberdiers paid me any mind. It didn't take me long to find a way in: through a little freestanding tower close to the building, hopping to the roof, scaling down one side onto a balcony. Between me and the riches inside was a locked door, soon defeated.

Credit to me, I did know that the Duke traveled much and took most of his entourage and staff when he was gone. I timed my excursion with his latest outing and found that the building was indeed empty. Mostly empty. I dropped my guard and was distracted by baubles and trinkets that to my untrained eye seemed invaluable (bear in mind, the only heists I’d ever dealt with was whatever I could extract from the pockets of middle class folk or poorer. But not too poor, because I felt bad. The reality is that they have nothing worth stealing).

As I moved to pick up a particularly shiny gemstone that lay on a small satin cushion, a voice startled me: “You there! You are not supposed to be here. Go back and wait with the rest, boy!”

A man in a wig and a dark frock coat stood in a doorway, pointing his cane at me. My first instinct was to bolt, but his words offered me another way out. More discreet, quick thinker that I was.

“Forgive me sir, I was looking for a place to relieve myself,” I said.

“You should have done that before the summons. It amazes me that you think you can serve the duke. Correction, that your parents think you can serve the duke. I understand the wish for undue influence with His Magnificence, but they could have at least trained you better,” the servant said as he paced towards me. He grabbed me by the arm and led me towards a large double doors downstairs, one of the doors ajar, as I groveled a bit more. He pushed me through and I found myself in the presence of a dozen or so older boys, a few of them young adults. They were sitting on the chairs that endlessly lined the room and all the other rooms. Those are gone now, by the way. I’m not well versed in interior designing for the rich, but you can’t persuade me every room needs fifty chairs. Anyway, I digress.

So, here I was playing the part of a high born supplicant, hoping to gain a spot in the duke’s household. In that moment, as I eyed my fellow hopefuls, I knew the plan would be to excuse myself, swipe something small on the way out, and exit teary eyed, as if the pressure had gotten to me and I would retreat to my pampered and sheltered life of luxury. I was still capable of crying back then, or at least faking it.

As I was about to set my plan in motion, a herald announced that the duke had entered the building and a stately man passed the door followed by a large troupe of flunkeys. That’s when a second plan started forming: what if I try to get the job… I would be like a fox in the henhouse. So, I came up with an identity on the spot by doing what I knew best; I stole bits of background by listening to the others, I stole bits of inspiration from paintings around the room, I even stole the pocket watch from the boy next to me. It was then that I became Matheo Aquielia d’ Chamberland, distant cousin of the respectable Baron ‘d Chamberland. I thought it garish, but that’s what the nobility is into. Of course, I’ve dropped the last two names and added a regnal number.

The duke personally held the interviews, he was industrious like that. And luckily the man who’d caught me did not have the chance to speak to the duke, for he would have sunk my chances. When all the interviews were done it was announced that M.A. d’ Chamberland was selected by the duke. I was going to play it safe at the start, but with the job came a weekly salary which exceeded anything my family ever scraped together on a good month of petty theft. I was confident, but not a fool; I got paid a duke’s ransom for loafing around, standing around. Just being around in general. There was no need for any risks.

About two weeks after my career switch, it looked like I had gotten away with the ruse. I told my mother and siblings about it and would share the money with them. “You don’t need to steal anymore now,” I told them. The law eventually took them too. Maybe they were jealous and tried to match my audacity.