Who's The Young Dark Horse?

The Tour de France is about to begin. The teams are in Liège. Here comes Team Philosophe. But what is this? Where is The VeloDrone? Perhaps Phil Liggett knows.

Phil Liggett: Team Philosophe has a new look this year, Paul.

Paul Sherwen: They do indeed. It's quite ironic really.

Phil Liggett: Why so?

Paul Sherwen: There are no philosophers left in it.

Phil Liggettt: Goodness me! You're quite right Paul. How has this happened?

Paul Sherwen: The VeloDrone stayed behind to be with his friend Le Bon David, who had to go into hospital for some tests.

Phil Liggett: Dear me. Well, we wish him all the best. Now let's have a look at the riders of Team Philosophe. We have Sweezus, of course, a very promising young rider.

Paul Sherwen: Indeed he is, Phil. The last two tours have really toughened him up. Remember his first tour when he stopped and went for a swim?

Phil Liggett: Haha! A lot has changed since then. Sweezus is really hungry for a victory. I wouldn't be surprised to see him being the first to wear the King of the Mountain jersey this year.

Paul Sherwen: And then there's Gaius, or Pliny the Elder as his team mates call him. A veteran rider. He will be the backbone of the team.

Phil Liggett: He certainly will. But who's this young dark horse, Arthur Rimbaud?

Paul Sherwen: I was hoping you might be able to throw some light on that, Phil.

Phil Liggett: To look at him, you wouldn't think him much of a rider.

Paul Sherwen: He's only sixteen, I believe. And I hear he thinks of himself as a bit of a poet.

Phil Liggett: That's exactly what he looks like, Paul. A poet, with a bandaged knee.

Paul Sherwen: Not a rider?

Phil Liggett: No.

Paul Sherwen: And who's replacing The VeloDrone? Do we know?

Phil Liggett: They may be riding one man short. We'll have to wait and see.

Tour de France Practice

The next day Gaius had Tour de France practice.

He met The Velodrone and the rest of Team Philosophe in Norwood.

There was Sweezus, but where was Le Bon David? And who was the other young man?

Hello Gaius, said Sweezus. Did you have a good holiday?

Yes, thank you, said Gaius, looking around. Where's David?

Gaius! said The Velodrone. Didn't I tell you? David's pulled out. Says he's getting too old. Nonsense of course, he's merely overweight. But now I want you to meet our newest team member, Arthur. Arthur Rimbaud.

Gaius looked at Arthur Rimbaud. He was young, wild-haired and handsome, with a dirty bandage wrapped round his left knee.

Arthur Rimbaud, said Gaius. Pleased to meet you. Your name rings a bell.

You'll have read my poems, said Arthur Rimbaud.

No, I haven't said Gaius.

Everyone has, said Arthur Rimbaud.

I haven't, said Gaius. Perhaps Margaret has. I know someone has. Maybe it was that pinhead Ouvert.

Arthur Rimbaud looked slightly annoyed.

Well, said Gaius, looking around, what's the game plan this year?

First, said The VeloDrone, Arthur must rest his knee. Second, we must practice a bit. Third, we must get to Liège by next Saturday.

What's wrong with his knee? asked Gaius.

Recurring pain, said Arthur Rimbaud. I may lose it one day.

The knee? asked Sweezus.

Possibly, said Arthur Rimbaud. But until then I am sustained by the blue and yellow phosphorescent waves of anguish and unimaginable pain, and...

Steady on, young Arthur, said the Velodrone. Why don't you sit down.

Arthur Rimbaud sat down.

You three carry on, he said. Don't mind me.

And so began the first practice of Team Philosophe for the Tour de France.

Be Careful What You Wish For

Gaius returned home with his dirty washing. What to do with it?

He dropped the canvas bag on the floor in the laundry. He would deal with it later. Better still, perhaps someone would wash it.

Baby Pierre and Ouvert scrambled out of the bag and crossed the floor to the kitchen sink. Then they climbed up to the window sill.

I'm back! announced Baby Pierre.

Baby Pierre! screamed Lavender. You're back! Did you miss me?

No, said Baby Pierre. Hello, Aunty Kobo.

Hello Baby Pierre, said Kobo. How did you enjoy Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man?

Boring, said Baby Pierre. I didn't know Joyce was religious.

I see you stopped in the middle, said Kobo. So what did you read instead?

La Princesse de Babylone, said Baby Pierre. But it got wet.

Don't tell me you didn't finish that either? said Kobo.

It wasn't his fault, piped up Ouvert.

Who's that? asked Kobo.

Yes, who's that? asked Lavender, peering at Ouvert. He's got TWO mouths. Weird!

Ouvert, said Ouvert. I'm Baby Pierre's new friend. I'm from La Rochelle.

And what are you reading? asked Kobo.

Illuminations, said Ouvert. But I've lost it.

Really! You boys! said Kobo. How far had you got?

Page fifteen, said Ouvert. And there weren't enough stones.

If stones were the only pleasant subject, said Kobo, we wouldn't have much to read.

I wanted to read it, said Baby Pierre.

And I wanted to finish it, said Ouvert.

Good for you, said Kobo.

But now I can't, said Baby Pierre, looking sad.

Nor can I, said Ouvert, looking equally sad.

They don't care at all! said Lavender. They're just pretending Aunty Kobo.

So you'd like more of Rimbaud? said Kobo. Be careful what you wish for, you two.

Wonderful But Not All That Good

Everyone is now back in Adelaide

Margaret's wonderful holiday is over. She meets her friend Esme for coffee.

It was wonderful, Esme, says Margaret.

Was it? says Esme.

(Esme is jealous).

Yes, says Margaret. And Gaius was wonderful too.

Was he? says Esme doubtfully.

Yes, says Margaret. He bought Armagnac and Champagne. We did everything together.

Did you sleep together? asks Esme.

Not exactly, says Margaret.

Did you fight? asks Esme.

No, says Margaret. But we disagreed over a limestone.

A geological argument? asks Esme.

No, it was more personal, says Margaret. I called him Ouvert.

The limestone? says Esme.

Yes, says Margaret. He was gorgeous. But I 've lost him.

Never mind, says Esme. Limestones are two a penny.

Not this one, sighs Margaret.

She looks unhappy.

So the holiday wasn't that good, says Esme.

Philosophy in a Canvas Bag

This is difficult. Ouvert really wants to show Baby Pierre his Illuminations. But he doesn't want to return to Margaret's new bag.

Why don't you just pop back and get it? says Baby Pierre. I'll wait here.

Err.... no, says Ouvert. I can't go back to that bag.

Why not? asks Baby Pierre.

Because it's going to Australia. And this bag's returning to France.

What? says Baby Pierre. That's the first I've heard of it.

Gaius forgot he was in the Tour de France, says Ouvert. So he's turning back.

Did he actually say he was turning back? asks Baby Pierre.

No, says Ouvert. Not exactly.

Well then, says Baby Pierre. He will go back to Australia first. I guarantee it.

Why? asks Ouvert.

To get his bicycle, says Baby Pierre. You need to think things through, Ouvert.

I'm not used to thinking things through, says Ouvert. Normally I just accept whatever comes.

No you don't, says Baby Pierre. If you did you would've stayed in Margaret's bag.

You ARE a philosopher, says Ouvert, admiringly. Let's talk some more.

Alright, says Baby Pierre. I am in fact an atheist and a free thinker.

Oh wow! says Ouvert, one mouth open. How does that work?

What do you mean, how does that work? says Baby Pierre.

Well, how can you be a free thinker, if you've made up your mind to be an atheist? asks Ouvert.

Ouvert, says Baby Pierre, you are cleverer than you look. I hadn't quite thought that one through.

So we're equal, says Ouvert, hopefully.

I wouldn't go that far, says Baby Pierre. But we can be friends.

Whee! says Ouvert.

It's Poems

Where is Ouvert?

He has climbed into the Room of Ones Own, which was lying on the floor next to Gaius's foot.

He wriggles his way to the bottom.

There he sees Baby Pierre, wrapped up in wet paper.

What are you doing here? demands Ouvert.

Where? asks Baby Pierre. I don't know where I am.

Never mind where, says Ouvert. This used to be my bag. And you're in it. And that used to be my book. And you're wrapped in a page of it.

Hah! says Baby Pierre, outraged. It's my bag and my book!

Then you must be Baby Pierre! says Ouvert. Wow! Hello!

Yes I am, says Baby Pierre. And I know who you are. Hello, Ouvert.

Yes, yes, hello, says Ouvert, somewhat tongue-tied.

He gets a hold of himself.

Do you like reading? says Ouvert. I do. Would you like to borrow my book? I see yours is wet.

Thank you, says Baby Pierre. What is your book?

Illuminations, says Ouvert.

By Arthur Rimbaud? says Baby Pierre.

That's the one, says Ouvert. Frankly I find it a bit disappointing. But you might like it. It's poems.

Poems! says Baby Pierre. I don't generally like poems.

So, no, then, says Ouvert.

I might take a look, says Baby Pierre. Although I prefer philosophy. Where is your book?

Damn! says Ouvert. I left it behind!

Changes At Changi

In Singapore everyone gets off the plane.

Baby Pierre wakes up. He is swinging through the air in the Room of One's Own, or so it seems.

Gaius is embarrassed to be carrying the Room of One's Own through Changi airport.

This is because Margaret has made him aware that he ought to be embarrassed.

Carrying your dirty underwear through this beautiful airport, she tuts. You ought to be ashamed.

Gaius pretends he is not embarrassed, by changing the subject.

I'm going to find an internet connection, he says.

Ouvert is still inside Margaret's new bag, reading Illuminations.

He is disappointed. There has not been a single mention of stones for fifteen pages.

It is all about anything but stones.

Flowers, forests, idols, stars, spiders, sluice gates, the sea.

Suddenly he feels homesick for the sea.

He pops his head out of the bag and shouts at Margaret.

Hey! I want to go home. I want to go back to Pointe de Minimes in La Rochelle.

Margaret doesn't hear him, due to a loud cry from Gaius, who has just googled something.

The Tour De France! groans Gaius. It's less than two weeks away.

You won't be in it this year, says Margaret. Weren't you disqualified?

Nearly disqualified, says Gaius. I shall be riding with my usual team, don't you worry. But there's not much time for me to practice.

You should have stayed in France, says Margaret.

Let's go back, shouts Ouvert. I want to go back now!

No, says Margaret. You're coming home with me.

But Ouvert has jumped out of her bag.

Margaret searches the entire length and breadth of Changi Airport, but he is nowhere to be seen.

Rimbaud's Illuminations and Precious Stones

Baby Pierre is the only one with nothing to read, and no access to in-flight entertainment. He flails around inside the Room of One's Own, trying to find his way out.

He can't breathe.

Suddenly he feels a soft wet thing.

Then he feels a long hard thing.

What can they be?

.........

Down below, in the nice smelling bag, Ouvert reads Rimbaud's Illuminations with mounting excitement.

He reads Apres le Deluge.

Oh les pierres precieuses qui se cachaient......

That is what Rimbaud had written, in French.

Oh les pierres....

The precious stones that hid themselves......

Who could they be?

.......

Baby Pierre grasps the long hard thing.

It is a torch.

How lucky. Gaius must have left his torch inside the bag, or maybe it had been tucked inside one of his dirty socks.

Baby Pierre grasps the soft wet thing

Oh joy! It is one damp page of La Princesse de Babylone, smelling faintly of the gentle rains of Quillan.

Baby Pierre wraps himself up in the Princesse de Babylone and sleeps all the way to Singapore.

All About Limestones

Gaius and Margaret settled into their seats on the plane.

They were on their way home. It had been rather hectic, the last bit of the journey. There had been a series of unfortunate events.

They had gone to the wrong terminal and had to catch a shuttle back to Terminal Two. This made them late. Then there had been a problem with printing the boarding passes. And they had been directed onto a mystery bus. They hadn't known where it was going. It had been very confusing.

But now, here they were, on the plane.

Phew! said Margaret. We made it! Are you alright, Ouvert dear? 

Ouvert had never been worried. He was safe inside Margaret's new bag. It smelled nice in there. So did he. The sardine smell had vanished away. He settled down to read. He had a new book, Illuminations, by Arthur Rimbaud.

Ouvert! said Margaret. Answer me!  But Ouvert was intent on his reading.

Margaret looked inside her bag. All seemed to be well. She took out a Sudoku puzzle, and a pencil.

I don't suppose you want to know if I'm alright? said Gaius.

Are you? asked Margaret.

Yes, said Gaius. I'm alright, thank you. I'm reading a book about limestone.

How very interesting said Margaret. My little Ouvert is a limestone.

I know, said Gaius. Did you know that if you spill acid on limestone it will dissolve?

Of course I know that, said Margaret. I'm a field geologist, remember. But why do you ....GAIUS!

Keep your hair on, said Gaius.

..........

Baby Pierre was not happy. He was inside the Room of One's Own, in the overhead baggage compartment. No one knew he was there. It was dark and it smelled of sardines, with a undertone of something else, what could it be?

Baby Pierre was not one to put up with bad smells.

Transfer at Sacre Coeur

The TGV arrived at Montparnasse. It was the end of the line. Baby Pierre got off.

Where was it Ouvert had said they were going? Montmartre? How were they going to get there?

The Metro, of course. Baby Pierre headed for the underground.

Lucky Ouvert. He would be riding in the Room of One's Own. All the way back to Australia. Baby Pierre had only his wits to help him get home.

Baby Pierre took the Metro to Abbesses, and climbed up the steps, emerging into the sunlight and bustle of Montmartre. He sat down at a table outside a cafe, and ordered a beer.

Where were Gaius and Margaret? Where was that fathead Ouvert?

A woman in crazy coloured stockings walked by, and a man in a yellow lycra suit.

A carousel tinkled and spun. The low sun dazzled his eyes.

He heard someone say: Sacre Coeur? It's just around the corner, and up the hill. Everyone goes there.

Right! thought Baby Pierre. Gaius and Margaret will go there, if everyone does. Sacre Coeur, here I come.

Soon he was at the base of the steps leading to the Basilique of the Sacre Coeur, gazing up at the beautiful white castle in the sky.

People were stitting on the grass above him. Men were selling handbags under the trees.

And there was Margaret, buying a handbag.

My old bag smells of sardines, she was saying to Gaius. I really need this.

She paid for the handbag and began at once to transfer her belongings into it from the Room of One's Own.

Whee! said Ouvert, jumping in. A new bag! Super!

What a nitwit! thought Baby Pierre.

What will you do with this now? asked Gaius, picking up the Room of One's Own.

Throw it away, said Margaret.

I can use it, said Gaius.

With pleasure, said Margaret. Just keep it away from me.

Gaius looked pleased. It would be perfect for his dirty socks and underpants.

Baby Pierre also looked pleased.

Brief Encounter

For Gaius and Margaret too, it was time to go home. The next day they caught the fast train from La Rochelle to Paris.

Ouvert was safely tucked inside Margaret's bag.

The train had been going for hours. Ouvert clambered out of the bag.

I'm going for a stroll down the train, said Ouvert.

Don't get lost, sweetheart, said Margaret.

Gaius looked sour.

I concur with word two and word three, he said.

Huh? said Ouvert. And he rolled down the aisle, leaving behind him a faint smell of sardines.

Baby Pierre was in the next carriage, with a seat to himself.

Ouvert trundled past. Baby Pierre sniffed the air loudly.

What's up? said Ouvert. Are you sniffing at me?

Yes, I am, said Baby Pierre. You don't smell like a stone.

That isn't my fault said Ouvert. I fell into a plate of sardines.

Baby Pierre looked surprised.

Where are you going? asked Baby Pierre.

To the toilet, said Ouvert.

I mean after? said Baby Pierre.

To Paris, Montmartre, said Ouvert. Hey, do I know you?

No, said Baby Pierre.

He Is Better Than That

If a tree falls in a forest and nobody hears it, does it make a sound?

If a gypsy pronounces a curse on behalf of Baby Pierre, and the curse comes true, but Baby Pierre doesn't witness it, then what?

Baby Pierre had been at the Fete du Porte de Peche all morning. He had been one of the first to get there.

He had looked at the fishing boats and the colourful sheds just as Ouvert had done, later on.

He had seen the stalls being set up. He had watched as the fisher folks began cooking sardines and mussels, mackerel, tuna and octopus. He had smelled the fine smell of fresh seafood.

All of a sudden he had felt a great sense of happiness. What need had he of revenge?

What was it Nietzsche had said? You are better than that. Yes, I am better than that, thought Baby Pierre.

I don't want Ouvert to choke on sardines.

Baby Pierre caught the bus back to the Place de Verdun.

He went to the Cafe de la Paix and sat at a table inside.

It was a beautiful old Belle Epoche cafe complete with cracked mouldy mirrors.

He ordered a Radeau.

He had never ordered a Radeau before.

What would it be?

It was, when it came, lemonade with a twist of citron.

Baby Pierre admired his drink for a while.

Then he left without paying.

The world was his oyster.

Where would he go next?

Perhaps it was time to go home.

Segolene Royal Saves The Day

Gaius, Margaret and Ouvert stepped off the bus at Porte de Peche. It was breezy but otherwise fine. Crowds of people were heading for the entrance to the fete.

Gaius and Margaret found seats for themselves at one of the long tables.

I'm going to look around, said Ouvert. It's ages since I was this side of the bay. I shall look at the traditional fishing boats. People have fished in this region for thousands of years.

Do you hear that Gaius? said Margaret. Thousands of years!

Who doesn't know that? answered Gaius.

Ouvert wandered off.

He looked at the colourful fishing boats, and the brightly painted boat sheds. Then he went to look at the food stalls.

He stopped in front of a stall marked 'Sardines'. A crowd had gathered behind the row of stalls. He climbed up onto the counter to get a better view.

The guest of honour had arrived. It was Segolene Royal, President of the Regional Council and ex-wife of President Hollande. She was wearing a pink jacket, but was in the middle of a scrum, so she was difficult to see.

Ouvert climbed up a metal pole, up, up and up, until oops! he tumbled down into a plate of sardines.

Segolene was just passing. She was a kind-hearted woman.

Courage little one! she said to Ouvert. Let me help you.

Ouvert simpered, unable to speak.

Segolene picked up the plate of sardines.

Where are you sitting? she asked Ouvert.

Over there, whispered Ouvert, through his second best teeth. His good mouth was full of sardine.

Segolene carried him tenderly over to Gaius and Margaret's table.

Here is your friend, she said with a smile.

The admiring crowds clapped and cheered Segolene. Truly that woman ought to have been elected President of France in 2007, and not that Sarkozy fellow.

Ouvert was embarrassed. He had choked on a sardine in front of Segolene. It was still in his mouth.

Margaret tried to blow the sardine out.

Try sucking, said Gaius, unkindly.

There Will be Sardines

Baby Pierre rolled back towards the Grosse Horloge, the closest place he had to a home. He looked for his bowl. It had gone. He rolled over the road to the gypsies, who were getting ready to leave La Rochelle.

Where's the bowl? asked the tall gypsy.

Don't know, said Baby Pierre. I left it over there. I 'm no good at begging. I needed a dog.

Haha! laughed the gypsies. He needed a dog!

You wouldn't laugh if you knew my story, said Baby Pierre.

Tell us your story, said the tall gypsy, gesturing with his claw made of horn.

The gypsies gathered round.

Another stone has taken my place in the heart of my friend, and the comfortable bag that I lived in, said Baby Pierre.

The comfortable bag that you lived in? For shame! said one of the gypsies.

What is the name of this stone? asked the tall one.

Ouvert, said Baby Pierre.

A curse on Ouvert! said the tall gypsy, with a dramatic swish of his cloak. May he fall out of favour with your friend. May he stifle himself in the bag. May he choke on a sardine! May he grow two faces!

Hee hee! said Baby Pierre. He already has two faces. Two mouths anyway.

Whoooaaaah! said the gypsies, with a communal intake of breath.

 One by one they melted away, into the dark.

They were easily scared, said Baby Pierre to himself. Now what? There's a curse on Ouvert, but that doesn't help me.

He wandered over to the sardine shop on the corner. It was closed. The window was full of beautiful tins of sardines. A colourful poster caught his eye. It was advertising the Fete du Porte de Peche, which was to take place tomorrow. There would be free buses to take you there, leaving every half hour from the Place de Verdun.

I bet they'll be going tomorrow, said Baby Pierre. With dear little 'Ooovert'. And there will be sardines....

He rolled over the road, through the stone archway under the Grosse Horloge and all the way down to the Place de Verdun.   

 

Second-hand Knowledge

The Yelo water bus docked at Pointe des Minimes. Baby Pierre, who had not bought a ticket, hid under his seat in order to disembark last.

He was just about to roll up the gangplank when he spied Gaius and Margaret at the top.

Oh joy! Here were his friends. He decided to stay on the Yelo and give them a happy surprise.

Gaius and Margaret boarded the Yelo and sat down. They were arguing. Perhaps it was not the right time to pop out and surprise them, thought Baby Pierre.

How do you think I wrote informative books without first-hand knowledge? said Gaius, testily.

Everyone knows you got most of your information from books, said Margaret.

And hearsay, said Gaius. Travellers' tales. I certainly call that first-hand knowledge.

I call that second-hand knowledge, said Margaret.

And from books? said Gaius.

That too, said Margaret.

You have fallen into a trap there, said Gaius. Now you are saying books are second-hand knowledge.

Let's see what Ouvert has to say, said Margaret, rummaging about in her bag.

I have not the slightest interest in what Ouvert thinks about it, said Gaius. He is hardly an intellectual giant. I don't imagine he has read many books.

I'm reading one now! squeaked Ouvert, emerging from A Room With A View with a damp page of the Princesse de Babylone stuck to his bottom.

Baby Pierre couldn't believe his eyes.

A usurper! Another stone in his place, reading his Princesse de Babylone! And what was even worse, this Ouvert appeared to have torn it!

Baby Pierre remained under the seat until the Yelo reached La Rochelle, and then a bit longer.

When everyone else had got off, he disembarked sadly.  

 

Resourceful and Logical

Baby Pierre sat under the stone archway of the Grosse Horloge in La Rochelle, with his begging bowl.

Many people passed by, but nobody put anything in.

This is not my idea of a gypsy lifestyle, said Baby Pierre. It's boring.

He peered over the top of his bowl.

Someone had dropped a piece of paper into it.

Baby Pierre climbed down into the bowl and unfolded the note.

GET A DOG! said the note.

That's good advice, said Baby Pierre. But I can't get a dog just like that. I'm moving on. At least I've learned something useful.

He thought of La Princesse de Babylone. He was like her. Resourceful and logical.

He must find his friends. They were in La Rochelle somewhere. He walked along beside the old harbour until he came to the Yelo water bus, which ran hourly to Pointe des Minimes.

I bet they've gone there, said Baby Pierre, hopping on to the Yelo.

........

Meanwhile at Pointe des Minimes, Gaius, Margaret and Ouvert were waiting for the return of the Yelo.

Ouvert was tucked comfortably inside Margaret's purple and white canvas bag. He liked it in there. There were English words printed on the outside of the bag. A Room of One's Own. And what was this? A book, La Princesse de Babylone. He opened it and started to read.

The pages were damp, and tore easily.

........

Margaret was chatting to Gaius.

Ouvert says the Romans produced wine in this region, she remarked.

I don't need Ouvert to tell me that, said Gaius. I was alive at the time. I probably drank some of it.

I bet you don't really remember, said Margaret. Ouvert read about it in a book.

Are you saying that reading about something in a book is better than remembering it directly? asked Gaius.

Yes, said Margaret. At least then you know that it's true.

Gaius made a disbelieving noise.

You wrote books yourself, added Margaret.

Salt Harvesting in Ancient Times

Margaret had become fond of Ouvert. He was smooth to the touch, much smoother than Baby Pierre, and not as restless. He would sit in her hand and talk to her about old La Rochelle.

He didn't know much. He had been on the beach at Minimes for ages. But he had read things in books.

The Romans harvested salt here in antiquity, said Ouvert.

I must tell that to Gaius, said Margaret.

How does he know that? asked Gaius, when she told him.

He reads books, said Margaret. At least, that's what he said.

Books! scoffed Gaius. There are no books on the beach.

Ouvert, darling, said Margaret. Where do you get your books from?

People read books on the beach, said Ouvert. Sometimes they leave them open and go for a swim.

I knew there was an explanation, said Margaret. Gaius, are you listening to this?

No, said Gaius. And why do you call him darling?

You're jealous, said Margaret. Would you like it if I called you darling?

Certainly not, said Gaius. But how quickly you have forgotten Baby Pierre.

Who is Baby Pierre? asked Ouvert.

Our friend, a pebble, a bit bigger than you, and we've lost him, said Margaret.

I'll help you find him, said Ouvert. I have friends around here.

You little sweetheart, said Margaret. Let me kiss you.

Yes, kiss me, said Ouvert, very sweetly. Which mouth would you like to kiss first?

The big one, said Gaius.

GAIUS! said Margaret. Don't be crass.

How to Get on Without Money

Baby Pierre has arrived in La Rochelle. Now, how to find Gaius and Margaret? He heads for the Grosse Horloge.

Sooner or later everyone in La Rochelle passes under the Grosse Horloge.

Baby Pierre waits under the old stone archway.

Time passes. He looks up at the clock in the tower. It's lunchtime. People are sitting at cafes in the open air eating their lunch. The sun shines on the boats in the harbour. He smells the sweet smell of seafood. It reminds him of Ageless, his dad.

Across the road, on a step near the big anchor, he sees a few gypsies with dogs.

One of the gypsies is tall and imposing. He wears boots and a long black cloak and carries a claw, made of horn.

Baby Pierre goes over to speak to the gypsy.

Have you seen a man and a woman? he asks.

Is it a film? growls the gypsy. No, I haven't. I'm a gypsy. I travel.

I travel as well, says Baby Pierre. Travelling is hard.

You're telling me, says the gypsy. No one wants to give you their money. They just give you scraps for your dog. Psha!

Baby Pierre was impressed.

So how do you live? asks Baby Pierre.

Like a gypsy, says the gypsy. We move about.

How? asks Baby Pierre.

Oh, by train, says the gypsy. But we don't pay.

Neither do I, says Baby Pierre. I just get on.

Join us, says the gypsy. I see you're a gypsy at heart.

Alright, says Baby Pierre. What do I do?

Go and sit over there with this bowl, says the gypsy. At the end of the day, bring it here.

Ouvert

Margaret and Gaius have taken the Yelo water bus to Pointe des Minimes. They are sitting on the pebbles near the water, facing the sea.

La Rochelle is so lovely, says Margaret. Don't you love it here, Gaius?

I don't care for these pebbles, says Gaius, shifting uncomfortably. I much prefer sand.

But they are such interesting limestones, says Margaret. Look at this one. And this!

Margaret piles her stones one on top of the other. She builds a wee house.

Gaius watches two French girls paddling. They look uncomfortable too.

C'est La Rochelle, says one, with a grimace. The other one laughs.

Gaius idly picks up a pebble. He looks at it. It is white and smooth, shaped like a little fat cloud. It has a hole in the middle. He turns it over.

Look Margaret, says Gaius. A face!

Margaret looks at the pebble. It has two holes for eyes, and a tiny fossilised shell for a mouth. The mouth seems to be smiling.

How sweet, says Margaret. But if that is its face, what is that hole?

That is its mouth, says Gaius.

No, this is its mouth, says Margaret, pointing to the fossilised shell. See, it's even got teeth.

Nonsense, says Gaius, the hole is the mouth. A mouth is a hole, after all.

Not if it's shut, says Margaret. And when it's open, a mouth doesn't go through to the back.

Do you like it or not? snaps Gaius.

Of course I like it, says Margaret. It has two mouths. One open, one shut. That gives it an air of ambiguity. I shall keep it, and call it Ouvert.

Ouvert, says Gaius.

Ouvert blinks one of his eyes.

Many Stones in La Rochelle

Gaius and Margaret are in La Rochelle. They have passed under the Grosse Horloge. It is a big clock on a fourteenth century archway.

 But where to go next?

Margaret notices a man standing nearby, with a book in one hand and a piece of paper in the other. She nudges Gaius.

Look Gaius, she says. That man has a copy of La Princesse de Babylone, and our instructions for Baby Pierre!

She approaches the man.

Excusez-moi, monsieur, says Margaret.

Oui? says the man.

Do you speak English? says Margaret. May I ask where you got that book, and the piece of paper you're holding?

I do not know, says the man. It was in with my lunch.

Was there also a little stone in your lunch? asks Margaret? Name of Baby Pierre?

Certainly not, says the man. I should have noticed.

He is tiny, says Margaret hopefully. Have you still got the bag?

No, I have thrown it away, says the man. Your stone, what does it look like?

He is round, says Margaret. And stone-coloured. With the mark of a tulip on his head.

It's the mark of the lobster claw, says Gaius, to Margaret. He is most particular about that.

Sacre Bleu! says the man

You know him? says Gaius

No, says the man. I can't help you. But here is his book. And this paper was inside it.

These are our instructions to find our apartment, says Margaret. And we can't understand them. What does this mean, head of city streets?

Perhaps I can help you, says the man. He looks at the paper.

Rue Chef de Ville, he says immediately. Just over there.

Thank you so much, says Margaret.

Thank you, says Gaius.

And thank you for returning the book, adds Margaret.

Don't mention it, says the man. Enjoy your stay in La Rochelle. You will find there are many stones here.

Regrettable Modes Of Tranport

Baby Pierre is about to board the train for La Rochelle.

La Princesse de Babylone is lying on the ticket counter, with a set of mysterious instructions tucked into her flyleaf.

She is restless. Where is Baby Pierre? Why hasn't he picked her up? She sits up. She looks through the glass windows at the station platform.

Is that Baby Pierre, climbing onto the train?

It is.

Le Princesse is not used to being abandoned. And Baby Pierre has abandoned her twice.

But a book can become fond of its owner, and La Princesse is fond of Baby Pierre. His French is amusingly bad.  She determines to follow him now.

She can hardly use her magic carpet in a train station. Her phoenix would certainly object.

A man comes up to the ticket counter. La Princesse doesn't think twice. She drops into his bag.

Yuck, it is full of his lunch. A greasy baguette with the jambon hanging out.

 La Princesse regrets it already.
  



 

No Need to Buy Tickets

Margaret pointed at the book.

C'est a vous? asked the woman in the ticket office.

Non, said Margaret. Parlez-vous anglais?

Un peu, shrugged the woman.

It belongs to my friend, said Margaret. I don't suppose there's a little stone that came with it? Une bébé pierre?

Non, said the woman, looking blank. But please take the book.

Thank you said Margaret. I'll leave it with you. Here is a note for the owner when he turns up. We are going to La Rochelle. We want him to follow us there.

Bien sur, said the woman. Au revoir.

Gaius and Margaret caught the train to La Rochelle.

Five minutes later the bus from Quillan arrived at the station.

Baby Pierre got off. Did he go to the ticket counter? No

He went back to the apartment and knocked on the door.

Amanda opened the door. She had been cleaning.

Baby Pierre! she exclaimed. What are you doing here? Your friends have already left for La Rochelle.

Did they leave me a note? asked Baby Pierre.

No, said Amanda. They didn't.

Baby Pierre felt dejected. Gaius and Margaret had gone. How was he going to find them? This was just like La Princesse de Babylone, when the princess turned up just as her lover left town. This thought cheered him up. The princess had caught up with her lover eventually. And had several adventures on the way.

He went back to the station. Did he go to the ticket office? No.

Baby Pierre does not need to buy tickets.

Revelation at the Station

It is the following morning. Gaius and Margaret are at the station, packed and ready to leave for La Rochelle. Baby Pierre has still not turned up.

Do you think he'll be alright? says Margaret. He does know where we're going, doesn't he?

Alright? says Gaius testily. He's a stone. And furthermore, he stowed away in your bag in the first place.

What's wrong with you this morning? says Margaret. I thought you liked Baby Pierre.

I like stones, says Gaius. As do you. But I can't abide lateness.

He'll have missed yesterday's bus, says Margaret. Perhaps we should wait for this morning's.

Then we'll miss our train, says Gaius. We'll leave him a note.

We should have left it on the door, says Margaret. We can't leave it at the station.

Yes we can, says Gaius. Use your head. The bus comes into the station.

Where can we leave it? says Margaret.

At the counter, says Gaius. Now what are our instructions for finding this place at La Rochelle?

Margaret pulls a piece of paper from her pocket.

These are Madame Bouillon's instructions, she says, and begins to read :

Walk to the old port of La Rochelle. Pass under the big clock. Here, make about one hundred and fifty metres. Follow the street under the arcades. Go to theatre of the pancake restaurant, a real estate agency on the corner, and near the barber Dessange. Residence moquetterie at 29 head of city streets. Press intercom to call Christine.

He won't be able to follow that! says Gaius. I certainly can't!

He's a clever little fellow, says Margaret. He will.

She goes up to the ticket counter.

Her eyes widen.

There on the counter is a sodden and mud-streaked copy of La Princesse de Babylone.

Safe Warm and Dry Elsewhere.

A strong cold wind had sprung up. It was still raining.

You know, said Margaret, as they emerged from the deserted village onto the forest path, in spite of the rain and the wind and all the the discomfort, I've never felt so ALIVE!

Good, said Gaius, as his umbrella blew inside out.

Imagine, said Margaret, that we are Cathars, approaching the medieval cité, in weather like this.

I am imagining it, Margaret, said Gaius, through gritted teeth.

The path was slippery and uphill. He tripped on a rock.

Imagine, said Margaret. We turn a corner and there before us is the castle, warmth and safety at last.

Wonderful said Gaius, dropping further behind.

What's wrong with your umbrella? asked Margaret. Is it broken?

I told you it was broken before we set off, said Gaius. It's no use at all.

Have a crisp, said Margaret, coming back.

Thank you, said Gaius.

It's not very nice here, said Margaret.

No it isn't, said Gaius.  Look at my shoes.

His green crocs were covered in clay.

At last they saw the castle in the distance. They struggled on in the wind and the rain.

I think we should leave Carcassonne in the morning, said Margaret.

Done, said Gaius. We'll leave in the morning for La Rochelle. It's sure to be nicer there.

I hope Baby Pierre is back safe from Quillan, said Margaret.

They both thought of Baby Pierre, riding home on the last bus from Quillan, safe and warm and dry.

A Normal French Village

Gaius and Margaret had walked through the deserted village unscathed. They had come to a road. A normal French road. Down the road, to the right, they could see a French village. A normal French village.

Let's go there, said Margaret. There might be a cafe, where we can get a cup of coffee, and a bus we can catch back to Carcassonne.

Soon they arrived in the village. It was about half past three. The drizzle was now a steady rain. They headed towards an open square with several shops on one side, and a carpark in the middle of which was an information board with nothing on it. On the left was a taxi stand with no taxis. There was no one about. The shops were closed, except for a Tabac.

What use is a Tabac? said Margaret crossly. What we need is coffee, and a bus.

Calm down Margaret, said Gaius. I shall look for a bus stop.

He disappeared round a corner. And came back.

There may be a bus at five o'clock, he said.

But that's AGES, said Margaret.

Just then a small supermarket rolled up its windows behind them. They went in, and bought oranges, and crisps.

Est-ce qu'il y a un bus pour Carcassonne? said Margaret to the supermarket owner, as she was paying.

Non, said the man. Le bus a departé a quinze heures.

Three o'clock! said Margaret. Then we must walk all the way back  in the rain.

Oui, said the man. Bonne journeé.

Lucky we have our umbrellas, said Margaret, as they set of for Carcassonne in the rain.

And our crisps, said Gaius.

They marched boldly back through the deserted village, munching crisps.

Two Dreadful Circumstances

Baby Pierre waited at the bus stop in Quillan, under his book.

As La Princesse de Babylone became sodden, Baby Pierre fell asleep.

The four thirty bus ( the last one for the day) started up, and some people got on.

Oh look, said a man, there's a book on the ground. Someone's dropped it.

He bent down to pick up the book, before boarding the bus.

The bus pulled out of the bus station, and Baby Pierre woke up.

Where's my book? wondered Baby Pierre. Where's La Princesse de Babylone? Where's the bus?

Though he waited and waited, the bus never came.

....

Back in cold Carcassonne, Gaius and Margaret had gone for a walk even though it was drizzling.

After all, said Margaret. We are in Cathar country.

What's that got to do with it? said Gaius.

They had to be hardy in those days, said Margaret.

I have no need to model myself on the Cathars, said Gaius. Being a Roman myself.

Fiddle dee dee, said Margaret. Let's go. Have you got an umbrella?

Yes I have, said Gaius, but it seems to be broken.

They walked out through the graveyard behind the Cité, and followed a country road past vineyards and trees. They crossed a bridge. They saw no one except a few soldiers. The soldiers looked surprised to see them, and smirked as they said bonjour.

The path led through a forest and up to a deserted village. It was eerie and damp. All the windows were broken and rubbish was piled up inside. They heard several loud bangs.

Run, said Margaret.

Gaius started to run, then slowed down to a brisk Roman walk.

What To Do on a Wet Day in Quillan

How right they were.

Baby Pierre had not wanted to get off the bus in Quillan, for it was raining.

Can I stay on the bus? he asked the driver. It's raining.

Non, said the driver, in French. C'est fini.

Fini, said Baby Pierre to himself sadly.

He picked up his copy of  La Princesse de Babylone, and got off the bus.

He crossed the road, dodging the puddles.

He looked into a cafe. Inside three men were watching football.

Baby Pierre wished that Lavender was with him. He imagined her there at his side. She would have her blue pink and yellow umbrella. She would have something to eat in a bag.

Come under my umbrella, Baby Pierre, she would have said. Don't get wet.

No, he would have replied. Let's walk to the end of the town.

They would have walked to the end of the town. All the shops would have been shut. All the artists' studios too. He knew this, because it was true.

There's nothing to see, Lavender would have said.

Yes there is, Baby Pierre would have replied. See the towering mountains covered in mist. We are in the foothills of the Pyrenees, halfway between Carcassonne and Perpignan. That is the Aude River rushing by. And there are stones.

Derrr, Lavender would have said. But it's RAINING. And nobody else is about. Come and sit on the step under this awning, and have a drink of milk, and some raisins and nuts.

We are stones, Baby Pierre would have answered. We don't need anything.

Yes we do, Lavender would have replied.

But Lavender was not there. And it was raining.

Baby Pierre sighed, and returned to the bus stop. He held the copy of La Princesse de Babylone over his head. It would get wet, but so what.