Chapter 1
I could fairly well say that today was quite a nice day for our very temperamental London. There were few clouds and a fair bit of sun making its way through. Today I had chosen to sing across the street from The Old Wine Shades, a fairly old and popular pub that would guarantee me a few pence. There were around four tables outside the pub and the owner had recently bought some nice flowers, chrysanthemums, and daisy, that seemed to give the rusty pub a bit of color.
Living low class was not always ideal. We are often frowned upon, told we could not get anywhere in life. But I have always believed otherwise. I would make it somewhere, the middle class would do. With my guitar and voice, I would make money, buy a venue, get a family and live a happy life. Some of the lower-middle-class people believe in people like me, for many have been through our struggle. To make something of our lives. So here I am today across from a pub meant for those of the middle class, with my hat in front of me, singing in trousers and suspenders, which just happen to be my nicest clothing.
I’ve managed to get a small crowd around me and was at my last song of the evening. “I shall now sing a song entitled Bird in a Gilded Cage by Arthur J. Lamb and Harry Von Tilzer” Bird in a Gilded Cage was a lovely song in my opinion, also very well known, which might earn me a few more pence if well sung.
“The ballroom was filled with fashion’s throng,
It shone with a thousand lights;
And there was a woman who passed along,
The fairest of all the sights.
A girl to her lover then softly sighed,
‘There’s riches at her command.’
‘But she married for wealth, not for love,’ he cried!
Though she lives in a mansion grand.
She’s only a bird in a gilded cage,”
…
I kept singing and the people kept listening, and by the time I finished my song I had applause and fourpence in my hat. I do believe that is the most I have ever received for a single song, never mind the whole day. So I decided to take my leave and head home for the night, perhaps I’d come back to the pud another evening. As I started packing up I felt a tap on my shoulder and turned around to see this very nicely dressed man standing behind me. He had shoulder-length golden brown hair that was nicely combed back behind his ears and a very expensive looking pair of black and white striped trousers along with deep purple velvet frock coat that seemed to fit just right. He also carried a jet black cane with a gold plated sphere, on the top of which had the words, “Metuendas Dcemonis, salutari” engraved on it, it was odd for we are in England and that did not appear to be English but he also seemed to be a very young man with no need for a cane. “How do, young sir, what is your name?” he said with a strong English accent, “Alexander, Alexander Weaver sir” he appeared to be someone of very high class and must be expecting something of me “Well Mr. Weaver I am Mr. Charles Stilton Owner of the Salutari venue and I am having an event tonight at my venue and was wondering if you would pay me the honor of singing a couple of songs? Of course, you would be well paid and would be given a nice set of clothes for I can not have you in my venue like that. What do you say, Mr. Weaver?” It almost seems too good to be true. Of course, someone like him would not be interested in me? He could surely get someone much better than me to play at his venue. But here he was and how could I refuse I needed the money, and a nice set of clothing wouldn’t be that bad either. “It would be an honor Mr. Stilton” His face then lit up as he clasped his hands together in excitement holding his cane the whole time. “Wonderful, Mr. Weaver, just wonderful! My guest will be most excited to hear you sing tonight. Might I ask you to meet me at 58 Cloth Fair when the sun goes down tonight so we could take through the back and get you changed?” “That would be fine Mr. Stilton. Is there anything in particular that you’d like me to sing tonight?” “Goodness I’ve almost forgotten! I’d like you to sing this tonight, I’m aware it’s not english but you shall do just fine,” He reached into his jacket pocket and took out a piece of paper on which a song had been scrawled upon “along with whatever other songs you would like. I have a rather odd group of guest tonight that are quite stone-faced but do enjoy a nice chant such as the one I’ve given you.” And at that, he took his leave.
