“I won’t, and I’d like to thank you for all you do for the town. I’ll wager folk don’t often thank you.”
“Now you mention it, Guillaume, they do not. But that’s not what a Magistrate expects.”
Further across the bridge, a man, his woman, and three young children approached Marius. He recognised the man: it was Wibald, who he had heard in the courtroom some weeks back. As the family came closer, the little ones huddled shyly behind their mother. The man doffed his cap and held out a hand to Marius. An awkward silence followed. Then, the Justice spoke.
“Good day, Wibald. I have the right name, do I not?”
“You do, sire.”
“And how are you and your family?” He thought, ‘I’m embarrassed asking him that, after I pronounced him guilty and a thief. It’s a ridiculous question!’
‘I’m embarrasse
