“Isn’t it something?” He cheered.
“What’s that, Sir?” Naasir asked, wiping his face as they walked down Royal Street.
“The way these humans feel things.” Punch grinned. “I don’t feel nothin’ like this when I’m on me own. Wicked lot of trouble these bodies, but I gotta say, it’s somethin’ they way they feel.”
“We should take care that His Lordship doesn’t catch cold in this dampness.” Naasir said.
“Don’t you worry,” Punch laughed. “I’m not gonna let anythin’ happen to me master’s body.”
“I hope not, Sir.” Naasir answered.
Punch spun around to look at Naasir, “You wouldn’t be challenging me? Would you?”
“No,” Naasir smiled. “I’m only trying to look after both of you.”
“Well that’s fine, then.” Punch grinned, propelling Julian’s body to walk again.
“Where are we going, Mr. Punch?” Naasir trotted to catch up.
“Thirty-eight Jouet Street.” Punch answered. “That’s what me master and that bugger Arthur found back home. Me master’s sister wrote it in her own hand. That’s where the ‘ogress’ lives.”
“I see.” Naasir said.
“Do you know where that is?” Punch asked.
“No, Sir.” Naasir smiled.
“Well, we’ll find it!” Punch whooted happily. “We’re on an adventure, us two, walking on our legs and such.”
“Yes.” Naasir smiled.
“Never had legs afore I took up residence in Lord Julian.” Punch continued. “Didn’t like ‘em at first. Only know I’m used to ‘em and I must say that they’re right handy things.”
“They can be.” Naasir agreed.
They hurried toward the French Quarter—soaked to the skin.
Naasir shivered.
The Vieux Carré, despite the rain, was a bustle of people—some stumbling, unaware of the downpour and the chill. Others skittered past under umbrellas. A group of Creole men were singing at the top of their lungs, sheltered by a wrought iron balcony lit by gas lamps.
“What a place!” Punch cheered. “Listen to ‘em sing!”
“Let the good times roll.” Naasir smiled. “The Quarter is always alive with gaiety.”
“We can sing better ‘n’ them!” Punch shouted to Naasir, rain drops falling into Julian’s mouth. “Come on! Sing!”
“You begin, Sir.” Naasir laughed.
“In Scarlet Town, where I was born, there was a fair maid dwellin’! Made many a youth cry well-a-day, her name, it was Barbara Allen!” Punch sang with considerable gusto. “Come on, man, sing along!”
“Don’t know the words, Sir.” Naasir chuckled.
“Lot of good you are.” Punch grumbled. “Then, just make some noise! Hum along or somethin’!”
Naasir hummed loudly as Punch sang. “All in the merry month of May when green buds they were swellin', young Jemmye Grove on his deathbed lay for love of Barbara Allen.”
Punch whooped with joy again.
“Here,” he paused, “Them blokes look like they know what’s what. Come on, let’s ask ‘em.” Punch pointed Julian’s finger toward a group of gentleman standing beneath the overhang of a public house.
Punch sauntered up to them with Naasir following quickly behind.
“Evenin’ gents,” Punch grinned.
“Good evening.” One of them responded.
“My man and I are looking for a woman.” Punch continued.
“Who isn’t?” The man laughed, his friends chimed in loudly.
“A particular woman.” Punch laughed, too.
“Where does this lady live, Sir?” The obvious leader of the group asked cheerfully.
“She ain’t no lady, if you know what I’m sayin’.” Punch answered.
“I do, Sir. I do.” The man winked.
The other men guffawed.
“The address is Thirty-Eight Jouet Street.” Punch smiled.
“I should say you’re not looking for a lady.” The man leaned forward. “I see what you’re after. Just over there on the other side of the shops.” He pointed. “Just be careful sure to get out once you’ve had your fun. Never know when one of them witches will stab you in the heart and take your purse!” The laughter of the other men swelled. “All things considered, it’s worth the danger!”
“You’re a lot of help,” Punch nodded happily. “I’m in your debt.”
“Say nothin’ of it.” The man grinned. “If we don’t see you in two hours, we’ll assume you done got your guts spilled.”
“No one’s gonna spill me guts.” Punch laughed. “I ain’t got guts!”
“Son, you got your nose wide open.” The man chuckled. “Best to ya!”
“Good night,” Punch said. “Come, Naasir.”
“I don’t wish to be disagreeable, Sir.” Naasir panted, again, wiping the rainwater from his face. “However, this might not be the kind of place we’d want His Lordship to go.”
“Ah, Julian’s in there doin’ whatever it is he does.” Punch thumped Julian’s chest. “He won’t know what we done or where we been.”
“As you say, Mr. Punch.” Naasir answered nervously.
Punch stopped and opened Julian’s coat. “Look at what I got.” Punch said with considerable pleasure. He withdrew a long knife.
“Where did you get that, Mr. Punch?” Naasir asked, wide-eyed.
“From the sideboard in the dining room.” Punch smiled. “No, it ain’t me master’s guts that are gonna be spilled.
At that very moment, back on Royal Street, Robert grunted awake, coughing, as Meridian entered Lord Julian’s room.
“Julian?” Robert muttered.
“No, Dr. Halifax. It’s jus’ me.” Meridian said merrily
“Ah.” Robert nodded slowly. “Do you know where His Lordship is?”
“Not rightly.” Meridian shook her head as she stirred the fire in the hearth. “He done went out with his man nigh on half an hour ago.”
Robert squinted at the window. “In this rain?”
“Guess they be wantin’ some adventure.” Meridian laughed. “You know how folk get when they come to New Orleans. Ain’t no skin off my back.”
Robert sighed and rose cautiously off the settee. “Do you happen to know of a woman called ‘The Elegant Ogress?’”
“What you wantin’ to know ‘bout her for?” Meridian said sternly, her eyes wide.
“I’m just curious.”
“You don’t want to be messin’ with that one. No, Sir. She’s got that place on Jouet Street where men go in, but sometimes they don’t come out. No, Sir, you don’t want no part of that.”
“Thank you, Meridian.” Robert answered.
He waited for the woman to leave before returning to his room to fetch his coat. “Punch, Punch, Punch, what are you doing?” He muttered as he searched for his boots. “Please, God, let Naasir have the sense to keep that poor man out of harm’s way.”
Did you miss Chapters 1-40? If so, you can read them here.
3 comments:
Amen to Robert! Hopefully Naasir will prove as wise as he sounds and keep Punch and Julian safe.
Punch reminds us to take joy in just being human. How nice!
Dashwood is right,Punch is really enjoying being alive. He also wants to make things right for Julian. Cooler heads need to hold him back a bit, let's hope Nassir and Robert are up to the job. I'm glad Mr. Punch got his chance to sing today!
Hello Dashwood and Darcy. Yes, Mr. Punch does seem to be enjoying life in a human body. I suppose it's a nice change of pace from being a glove puppet. He does need to be coralled, however. So, yes, hopefully Naasir and Robert will wrangle him into a more appropriate frame of mind before he does something that will cause harm to Julian. Thanks for coming back!
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