(Illustration: Ink and Watercolor, by Roman Payne, Copyright 2005)

he trees were riddled with birds. The ground was littered with seeds. And the handsome son skipped between the trees, across the courtyard, basking in the vernal light of springtime Paris.
.....The moment the sun fell below the rooftops of the houses lining the Place des Vosges a call was heard. The old and virile father of the handsome son called out to him through the trees. The time had come.
The young man entered the office of his father where the latter was seated behind a mahogany desk. A large, tobacco coloured map of the world hung of the leftern wall. Near the rightern stood a brass cage. Within it squawked a parrot, perched on a stone.
The tippety-tap of the cane on his lap was silenced by the father who sat serious and still, reading over some papers.
Bored, the young man looked out the window across Place des Vosges at the last red light of the late-summer sun billowing up o’er the building tops.
.....And then a moment.
.....“Son, listen close. Hear y’up. Stop drowsing.”
.....The father laid his trading papers out on the desk beneath the eyes of his son. They were the papers he kept in the iron safe. The papers his son had never seen. They were old, decorated and the only of their kind. They had taken him all over the world, to the coves of the Sierras, to the ruby markets of the east … to Barcelona and to Constantinople.
.....His father’s papers were undeniably the most decorated in Europe – perhaps in the world. He was the only jewel trader in Paris, for instance, allowed to the buy and sell the glorious rubies of Burma. And it is this example which brought him to fortune and widespread respect.
.....He was known in the great mansions of the Parisian aristocrats, for the jewels that glimmered on their spoons had coursed through his hands. He supplied gems for all the hotels on the Place de la Concorde, as well as for every gilded bank office on the Grands Boulevards. And his son walked assured and proud through his youth, for he knew that this was to be his throne, and a glorious one it was.
.....“My son, I have considered your wishes to holiday in Spain this year,” his father spoke calmly, “I will, however, not be making a voyage this August and I expect that the procession will be taken up by you in my place.”
.....The young man did not speak, for he knew he would choke on the nervousness in his throat. He looked over the papers quickly with his father. He thought of bargaining until his father agreed to let him travel to Greece, or at least to North Africa. But he knew that it was necessary to go to Bohemia and he thought twice about showing fear or stupidity before the immense man that was his father. This would be the young man’s first solo journey, following his father’s trade, and he hesitated to accept what wasn’t his choice not to accept. He wanted truly to gather the papers and leave the office for this was an uncomfortable, though important, occasion. Soon enough, however, he was asked to leave so his father could attend to other matters. With a handshake, the young man said goodbye, joking to his father that he would return with all of the emeralds in the Urals – even if it took four years. His father did not smile; instead he gave his strong look, which said that no deviation from the plan would be tolerated.

The young man’s father was extremely serious. He always followed the codes of morals and laws of the particular region or country he was in. This is not to say that he wasn’t brave. He always took the most dangerous option – considering it was to his benefit. But when confronted about his actions, he replied in undaunted honesty. He took the consequences for his strange behaviour. But instead of his unorthodox actions causing him grief and social unrest, they created a path for him in which others seemed to follow. His father would often do something absurd; and when others looked at him as if he had committed a wrong, he would look back with these eyes and this heavy brow that said, ‘This is the new way! Do you object to progress?’ …and people would back away and be silent.
.....It is for this that his father gained the highest success as a jewel trader. It is for this that his trading papers were the most decorated in Europe. For the laws governing the commerce of gemstones is strict – even with the most privileged papers. For instance, no trader was allowed to remain in a foreign market for more than two to four days (depending on the country). The papers also governed the amount of gemstones which could be imported, the sum of money that could be spent on one voyage, as well as the kinds of stones which could be purchased. Burma was one of the strictest markets. In fact, its borders were closed to all foreign traders until just a decade before the young man’s father entered the business. The first traders allowed in to Burma were only permitted to return to Europe with one kilogram of uncut rubies. They were also only allowed to remain in the Burmese markets for two days. These regulations made it impossible for the traders to make a profit. They could easily purchase rubies in Paris for less than it cost to retrieve them from Burma. Because of this they began to smuggle other jewels through the border as well as falsify the dates stamped on their papers. Finally the early traders’ papers were revoked. The young man’s father was an exception. He never remained in a country longer than was permitted. He also resisted the common practices such as hiding opals beneath amber. Years ago, border officials would check his parcels. This occurs with every trader, for the border official who finds expired papers keeps them. Every eastern border guard’s dream is to retain illicit gemstones, for they may be worth more than his whole life’s salary. Most border guards would even prefer to seize the trader’s papers rather than a simple lot of jewels. For the papers would ensure him a more lively and affluent career than his current position. There were no authorities to see to it that the papers and jewels were accounted for upon seizure. Border officials were switchy-eyed and outlandish men – just one step above common bandits. They would rob every passer-by of his freedom and possessions if the border crosser didn’t have his armed entourage.
.....Every trader passing a border, whether it was between Poland and Austria, or France and Spain, was dependent on his entourage. If the trader remained in a country too long, and tried to pass with expired papers; the border guards would certainly catch him. The trader would then look around for his entourage, only to see them disappearing over the foreign horizon. Why would they remain faithful by his side only to be arrested? There have been many traders who attempted to pay off their entourage in jewels for the capture of the guards – and every time the result is the same: The trader arrives at the border only to be turned on and ransacked by all – for an entourage is made up of political men, and political men are known to follow the rules even when they surpass all morals. They will take part in a massacre as long as their country is behind them.
.....So you see the tediousness of the trader’s position – and what skill and knowledge of human behaviour it requires. It is because of the young man’s father’s firm conviction in his speech and action, coupled with his fearless honesty, that he reached such fortune in the business. After just a few years in the trade, border guards ceased searching him at the frontier. It is common knowledge that his father could have walked freely with an illegal quantity or type of jewels. It what common knowledge then that the border officials must let him pass without an uproar – for the father’s entourage was as faithful as a family and they would stand beside him. There is no overstating the effect he had on other men. Still, this young man’s father remained honest and complied with the morals and laws of the particular region he was in at a given time.
.....His son, however, with his foppish dandy dress and wandering eyes, glittering as asterious as the diamonds on his belt, was an opportunist; and all the while - skipping past the courtyard, stabbing pommes and poires with his cane, kicking open the gate and summoning the carriage – he thought of how he would travel to Bohemia and return with an obscene amount of the finest emeralds and garnets available. He mused on bringing back the head of the border official studded with sapphires.
.....While in the carriage, however, he looked again at the trading papers his father entrusted to him. They felt as old as sandstone. They held stamps from twenty-eight countries. They were the most valuable trading papers in Europe. He knew he must safeguard them. For if he passed the border even one day late, the guards would most certainly seize them. This would mean the end of his father’s, and his, career. His father would never again honour him with even the most disdainful glance.
.....Riding through the plains of northern France, the son realized the importance of this day. He bowed his head to reflect solemnly on how, on this August morning, his father allowed him the life of a man for the first time.

The carriage, driven by Timothy, his father’s long-time driver, continued through the plains of Germany – through Frankfurt and Weimar – past thatches of roofs and dots of cattle on moist northern soil. The son felt happy knowing that the old driver would accompany him on his first solo journey; but it was in Gera, Germany – singular town – that the handsome son was surprised to find old Timothy bidding farewell. It was here that the son was to find his own way. He was led to a square where, as he was told, a new caravan would be arriving to take him the rest of the way.

Outside, fresh and hot, the young man skipped around the German square, so uniformly cobbled, waiting to greet the caravan with virile delight. Soon the afternoon burned off and evening faded to night and the young man decided to wander till he found a room to sleep.
.....Down the stairs from an old wooden bakery, an old peasant woman was sweeping up flour and feathers. She led the young man after his inquiries to a hotel on the square where he was given a room and a chest for his clothing. The handsome son paid the clerk, locked his room, put his things in the chest and pulled it onto his mattress where he could lay his legs over it whilst he slept – should anyone try to rob him in the night – and he soon fell asleep.
.....The bed was soft and the young man slept well. Morning-time. He was offended that there was no coffee served. Around the gates of the inn, the young man paced the square, hands folded behind his back. He then spat and found the maid, whom he ordered to fetch him coffee. The young man’s German was good enough to scold. A blushy-faced and shamed maid turned and went off kicking rocks to find some beans to grind for coffee. As the young man waited, he sat on the steps of the square in the warm morning sun – scratching his sore eyes and smoking a pipe. Before the maid returned, two wagons pulled up and summoned the son. Hurriedly, he jumped up, threw a mocking glance at the inn, glanced an insulting scowl at the town, and jumped in the rickshaw – the fifth of six – all his entourage – and they left the square and the town.
.....Through the wide hills of Germany they rode and the young man thought there would be no end to the repeating countryside, until finally the caravan stopped beside a stone gate. The figures climbed out of their respective compartments and led the young man to the officer at the gate. The young man was not confused, nor was he afraid. He had accompanied his father on over a dozen voyages. Twice they had taken the same route from Paris to Bohemia.
.....The officer expected what was soon provided: trading papers. But, wisely, behaving like an experienced trader, he did not hand the papers over until making sure with a glance that the new caravan was on the other side of the border with their carriages and rickshaws turned in a semicircle around the border guard’s post.
.....The officer handed them back in the usual way and the young man returned to the wagons, rickshaws and carts of the Bohemian caravan.
The most beautiful rickshaw was to be his – the last one in the line: number five – the sixth waiting behind in a camp at the German border. When he tried to open the door of the oak, two-man rickshaw, interrogations began by the parties smoking pipes atop the wagon in front in this new and unknown entourage.
.....“Wasn’t it to be a man?” a hoarse Slovak voice jested as the handsome son presented his papers.
.....“Oh, It is a pleasure, sir.” The driver of the third coach said taking the papers and realizing that the young man was indeed the awaited jewel trader.
.....The young man returned to the rear and opened the rickshaw door. There was another sitting on the deep red cushions.
“Salut! Leve-toi!” the young man said loudly, realizing that the man in his rickshaw was asleep. He jolted the unanimated body with the tip of his cane and the figure awoke, confused, spilling his tumbler of brandy upon the cushions.”
.....“It’s okay, you don’t have to change cars – I’m alone.” The young man bellowed.
.....The sleepy figure came to his senses and shifted positions to allow him to enter. Stuffy-eyed and sleepy, he finally awoke… “Ah! I remember you.”
.....“Have you got anything to drink?” the young man asked.
.....“Some brandy.” The large figure began to pour from the bottle into a new glass. The young man was not interested in the tiny tumbler he was handed. He tossed it back in the other man’s lap and reached into the compartment for the bottle. Our young man then pulled the cork and drank the remainders.
.....“Where’s your father this trip?” The man, who introduced himself as Ivan, inquired.
.....“In Greece.” The other, who introduced himself as Salvador, replied.
.....“Without his papers?” reinquired Ivan inquisitively.
.....“He’s there on pleasure… where are your papers, old boy?”
.....“What do you mean….”
.....The young man interrupted Ivan mid-sentence, “Draw the curtain it’s dark and I don’t know you – might have to draw my knife.”
.....The young man played with Ivan – threatened him a bit, until he took the curtains apart. The incoming sun revealed the figure of Ivan to be large and stocky, carrying a hard-boned, Slovak face. He was not much older than the young man – maybe five years.
.....The young man remembered Ivan from his last journey to Bohemia. It was around the young man’s sixteenth year. He remembered Ivan to be polite and helpful, honest – a bit over-instructive. It was because he had been instructive that the young man decided to condescend him – for it was his voyage now and he was to lead the party.
.....“I am happy to have you stay with us during your stay in Prague,” Ivan stated, “however, I wish that your father had come for he was always the most wonderful of guests…
.....“…Tell me,” Ivan continued, “Do you still live near the Tuileries?”
.....“I haven’t live in Paris for years… I live in Spain, in Andalusia,” the young man lied, “And I haven’t seen my father for years either. He has been in Greece with his mistress since I was sixteen.”
.....“Hmm,” Ivan considered “However did you end up in his line of work?”
.....“Actually, I’m a matador,” our young man boasted proudly with a slap to his chest, “I am taking this run for the pure thrill – it has nothing to do with my father.”
.....“But certainly your father arranged this expedition… and entrusted you with his papers.”
.....“Not at all. I have my own papers. They in fact supersede my father’s in privilege.”
.....“At your age! That’s amazing,” laughed Ivan mockingly.
.....“That brandy was quite stale, don’t you have anything else?”
.....“Some absinthe,” said Ivan, handing over a new bottle. He didn’t appear fond of the young man, but as his host he was required to feign affection, at least. The young man took this opportunity to openly slander Ivan and make demands as he pleased.
.....In the late afternoon, the coaches ceased and the door of the rickshaw carrying Ivan and our young jewel trader was opened. The party was led to the top of the road where the city of Prague could be seen in the distance. Golden light shone on the rooftops of Prague and the surrounding hills, which were usually a rich green, appeared bronze with fertile wheat.
.....The party drank wine aside the road together until the young man impatiently ordered everyone back to the coaches to continue on. The trail ahead was paved and smooth and the remainder of the journey took only an hour.
.....The coaches and wagons rounded the castle atop the largest hill in Prague and they entered a courtyard where olive trees lined cobbled sculptures and fountains. There was a feast planned to welcome the trader and when the party left their carriages, an even larger entourage flooded from the doors of Ivan’s mansion to greet them.
.....Wealthy and successful jewel traders always received this royal treatment when visiting a foreign country. A trader’s voyage was arranged so that his stay would be accommodated by an affluent host. The host fed and entertained the trader, took him into the jewel markets each day; and, as custom went, when the trader left the country, he would offer his host many beautiful jewels in return for the favour.
.....A large and beautifully faced woman led this new entourage and approached Ivan. She spoke in a robust German voice and claimed that the feast had finished preparation and the guests were waiting to begin.
“Good, I’m starving.” Agreed Ivan. “How do you feel my lad? Are you ready to eat?” he said, nudging the young man.
.....“There will be plenty of time to eat on this trip,” replied our young man, “First thing we do is go down to the markets.”
.....“I’m afraid you arrived a bit late. The markets are closed this evening and tomorrow is Sunday. We won’t be able to go until Monday morning.”
.....“I’m afraid that time won’t allow such idleness,” returned the young man, “I must leave on Tuesday. We must go to the markets tonight.”
.....“If you insist – you are the guest… we will ride down together after we eat.”
.....“Well, I’ll be going now,” The young man affirmed, climbing into the rickshaw, shouting orders to the driver, from the window, to commence.”
The little oak cart immediately left Ivan’s courtyard. Ivan was furious that his driver did not ask his permission before leaving. He turned to the old woman and ordered her to hold dinner and offer the guests more to drink. He then entreated his entourage to return to their coaches and follow him down to the center of Prague – to the markets.
.....The coaches rode unbalanced and swaying recklessly down the steep road to the lesser quarter of Prague. They hurried to catch up to the young man’s wagon.
.....Finally, his wagon could be seen stopping near the gates of the market and the following coaches caught up and halted. Ivan climbed out and greeted the young man. The markets were indeed closed for the evening and only the last of the vendors could be seen loading their carts with their beads and trinkets.
.....“Hmm, I guess they are indeed closed for the night,” the young man shouted aloud with a true look of surprise as he waved his cane before his supporting entourage… “Oh, well, I’m famished – let’s go eat!”
.....All cursed the young man silently, and the party reboarded their coaches and began heading back to the palace atop the hill.
.....From the Bohemian skyline, the entourage could be seen marking up the hill like a little brown trail of insects crossing a plain.
.....When the group rearrived, the courtyard was absent of festivity and greetings.
.....Quietly they marched inside, clicked off their boots and entered the anteroom where dancing and drinking was taking place.
.....The young man was introduced as Salvador to the crowd and everyone was excited to get their turn to make acquaintance with the handsome son.
.....Rather than mingling and showing an interest in the strange faces in the room, the young man insisted that dinner be served.
.....He was quite pleased with the meal. His garnet bracelet dipped in the thick sauces as he helped himself to more potatoes and beans. A pretty girl was seated beside him and she kept saying, “Salvador, please eat my bread, you need it more than I do.” She was flirting with him and her hand kept feeling the patterns of his clothes as she asked questions like, ‘where was this made?”
.....When she felt the pearls on his necklace, the gossamer thread broke and the pearls fell asunder to the floor. The young man grabbed for them and the pretty girl handed him some. Her face lit up with romantic delight when she handed him a blue pearl and he handed it back. She was expecting to keep it, however, he resnatched it out of her hand and, placing it on his tongue, swallowed it.
.....This was his usual behaviour with young ladies. He had the wealth to offer them lavish gifts but he felt, as he was clever, intelligent and unusually handsome, that he didn’t need to offer any gifts or other affections to win the company of a woman.
.....The pretty girl resumed eating her food. She was pouting a little bit after the young man’s exhibition of selfishness but every once and a while during the remainder of the meal, she would play with him to show that she was still interested.
.....After the meal, the guests returned to the anteroom to listen to the music and dance and drink. The young man remained at the table, smoking a pipe for a few moments, and then he joined them. This time, he was a bit lighter in spirits and he walked about the room talking to people who gathered near the walls.
.....After he was thoroughly bored with the talk of every guest standing near the walls, he sought out Ivan. Ivan was immersed in conversation with a lady, who, though he could only see her from behind, looked very alluring with finely cropped golden hair and a pleated rose dress.
.....He approached the couple but was not noticed. The lady had her back turned and Ivan did not take his eyes from her face. She was almost a tall as Ivan – who was already very tall – and when the young man stood behind her, he could barely glance over the top of her head.
.....He was now standing very close but Ivan would not look up to take notice of him. The young man – on a whim – took a pair of haemostat-like tools from his dinner-coat pocket and reached toward the clasp of the ladies pearl necklace with them. With a quick, expert twist, he noiselessly broke the clasp on the pearls and they fell asunder to the anteroom floor.
.....The couple turned around and Ivan bellowed out with a smile, “You seem to have a distaste for pearls this evening, Salvador.”
.....When Ivan noticed that his lady friend was dauntingly furious, he too grew angry and said, “I believe you have done this lady great harm. You had better spend some time repairing her necklace.”
.....The young man took no notice of these words. Instead he bent to the floor and retrieved one blue pearl from beside Ivan’s foot. He then kneeled beneath Ivan and, pressing the pearl into his hand, said, “This, my dear host, is the first token to repay your generous hospitality.”
.....Before Ivan could speak the young man stood, and bowed to the lady. He then looked at her face, which was unusually well formed and beautiful. She was pretty in not a cute way, but an undeniably beautiful way that caused the young man to grow shy and even reconsider his previous action. Meanwhile, Ivan was fuming with anger. He wanted to whip the young man, but before he could take any action, the latter disappeared through the crowd into an adjoining room.
.....Our young man found himself in a small and lavishly comfortable velvet room where he was alone – except for three people sitting remotely on red cushions, smiling, sipping wine and talking and a fiddle player, who played a slow Russian ballad in the minor key. Now, our young man, who considered himself ideal in both mind and body, did however have a great problem with his eyesight and he squinted hard to make out the faces of the three talkers on the other side of the room but he could not