The Head Hunter

The Head Hunter (Chapter 2)

 Guillaume

I felt pretty content now I was in Avignon. Everyone here seemed to so pleasant, there were loads of market stalls to browse and I was with my best friend. Well, I was until I got stuck with that gendarme to help guide me. Poor little Guillaume can’t find his way through Avignon, little Guillaume would get himself lost and frightened. I couldn’t believe that André ran off with that madman and left me with this gendarme. Words couldn’t begin to describe my annoyance at him. No, annoyance isn’t the right word; outrage.

‘You have been here before?’

Philippe snapped me back to reality. I couldn’t really complain about him, he was a fairly nice guy underneath the gruff, cold exterior. But I definitely got along better with André; he wasn’t as analytical, rough or inquisitive. And André seemed to have more of a sense of humour.

‘No, I’m new here,’ I sniffed as I walked past some strong-smelling herbs on a stall. ‘I’ve only been around the smaller towns and villages around my home, or in Paris. What about you?’

Philippe scratched at his chin in thought. ‘A couple of times... mostly just travelling through. I haven’t stayed here for too long. But I know my way around the sights.’

‘I’ll take your word for that.’ I stopped in front of a stall and smiled at the grim-faced yet rotund merchant. His stall was packed with freshly cooked meats and to his left was a large coal grill piled with slabs of animal flesh. Sure, that doesn’t sound like a pleasant description, but my mouth was watering at the sight and smell of it all. I bought myself and Philippe a pair of chicken legs as I was ravenous by this point. ‘Here, consider it a gift,’ I grumbled through gnawing on the leg as I passed the other to Philippe.

‘Thanks,’ he hesitated, ‘but no thanks. I do not eat meat.’

I was taken aback by this. ‘And why not? It’s delicious!’

‘Indeed it may be, but I’ve been put of eating animals forever.’

‘Don’t tell me you’re one of those that were traumatised by their first visit to a butchers or farm or something. That just makes you weak willed!’

Philippe straightened his back yet kept his eyes to the floor. ‘In my line of work I have come across the worst of humanity and I have witnessed terrible things.’ He sniffed, and scratched at his nose, trying to hide his upset at remembering these details. ‘I can’t stand the smell of cooked meat now, brings back too many memories.’

I silenced myself at this. I must have come across as completely callous, but how could I have known his trauma? Staring down at the ground awkwardly, I decided to try to reconnect with Philippe. ‘...That’s the problem I guess...’

‘What is?’ Philippe turned to me, a look of confusion and annoyance on his face.

‘There’re too many lunatics out there, and in both of our lines of work we’d be likely to find them.’

A shove from an elderly lady knocked me closer to Philippe. ‘Yes, I guess. Look at that “le Râle” trying to pass us off as foreigners. No idea why he would do that. The man is either completely insane, a compulsive liar or he has plans and schemes of his own.’

I heard a wail down a back alley and the pair of us stopped dead in our tracks. Instincts, I guess; when you’re on guard duty or policing cities as we did then the slightest sound that was out of the ordinary would catch our attention. Well, I assumed that to be the case with Philippe too, anyway, since he was in that business too.

Another wail, this time louder. We both took off towards the source of the noise without needing to look at each other. There was no time for hesitations if it was serious. Screams and gasps now. We sprinted; I was snatching for my pistol while Philippe grabbed that club of his.