The Magician's Sons

Chapter 2

As daylight began to break through night's black shroud, it touched a flamboyant sign which hung above Hannover's shop. It read, "The Imperial Bakery~Always the finest bread~Fit for the queen." Boastful? Yes. But it drew people in like flies to honey, and Mr. Hannover was as pleased as pie over it. But it wasn't enough. The people who stepped into his shop were mostly poor working folk. They ran in and ran back out with a quartern loaf of household bread, the cheapest kind of bread Hannover made.

"The rich, they pride themselves that they've got their own cooks to make their bread," the baker told his young apprentices as he cleaned the kneading trough and tabletops. "But they don't know what's good for 'em, lads! No, indeed they don't! They don't know that our bread's better than the hard brown loaves their staff puts out. There's no sense in wishing that the rich will come to us, so we'll just have to go to them! And if we can convince them of our bread's taste and quality, we'll be doubling our money!"

He clapped one hand on Charlie's shoulder and the other on Copper's, giving both a crushing squeeze which he meant very kindly. "Off you go then, lads," he said. "Wash your faces and hands before you leave. And remember, we're the Imperial Bakers! Our bread's of the finest quality, fit for the queen's own table! Mind you don't take any dickering! And don't drop a single loaf! Hear that, Copper? Not one!"

Copernicus nodded with quick, earnest obedience. "No, sir, I won't. I promise!" he croaked nervously. Then, on edge with fear, he hoped and prayed that he could keep that promise. If he did drop a single loaf, he knew he would be caned as soon as he got home. Mr. Hannover was a natural-born miser. He knew exactly what his bread was worth and counted every penny the boys earned to make sure it was all there.

Copper and Charlie did as they had been told. They washed until their skin was free from any trace of grime and then put on the most respectable clothes a poor family could own. They really looked very smart by the time they caught up their breadbaskets and walked out of the shop.

Copper leaned close to Charlie as soon as they had left the building behind them. "If this bread's fit for the queen's own table," he whispered, "I'd rather be a farmer! Your mum feeds us better bread than this!"

"Psh! A poor salesman you make! Do you honestly think you'll earn a penny with an attitude like that? Try a bit harder, Copper. It is called 'tact'."

"That's called lying!" Copernicus corrected, shooting his superior a stormy glance.

Charlie's confidence wavered. He wasn't always the most conscientious person, but he wasn't thoroughly bad either. He had a heart that was usually softer than he let on. But he didn't like thinking seriously when those thoughts tried to shame him.

"Must you always keep up that annoying honesty?" he asked in distress. "It really tries one's nerves! Where on earth do you get such sensitive scruples?"

Copernicus didn't know the answer to that question. His conscience was keen, and his heart throbbed with a longing for justice. His only guide was a strong feeling that Mavis had been perfectly good and honest, that his mother must have been the same, and that he was supposed to be that way too. If his guardians had been just a touch more scrupulous themselves, they might have taught him that God was holy and that his dutiful conscience was being called and drawn by the sweet Spirit of Christ. Such thoughts hadn't yet entered the boy's mind.

In a minute, both lads went in separate directions, each hauling their breadbasket from door to door. At every house, Charlie made a low, stately bow and plunged into his spiel about the unequaled quality of their Imperial Crown Bread—fresh baked and fit for the queen's own table. Copernicus wasn't quite as convincing. He gave a timid knock at each door. And when it was opened, he looked up at the servant with pitiful, tired eyes.