“I know that, also, but the knowledge does not in the least nullify my contention. I am merely endeavoring to show you that the heads you spoke of a moment ago were only older, but not necessarily wiser than mine. It would be impossible for me to devise an expedition so preposterous.”
“What should we have done?”
“For one thing, you should have gone yourselves, and defended your own bales.”
The merchant showed visible signs of a slowly rising anger, and had the young man’s head contained the wisdom he appeared to claim for it, he would have known that his remarks were entirely lacking in tact, and that he was making no progress, but rather the reverse. “You speak like a heedless, untutored youth. How could we defend our bales, when no merchant is allowed to wear a sword?”
Roland rose and put his hands to the throat of his cloak.
“I am not allowed to wear a sword;” and saying this, he dramatically flung wide his cloak, displaying the prohibited weapon hanging from his belt. The merchant sat back in his chair, visibly impressed.
“You seem to repose great confidence in me,” he said. “What if I were to inform the authorities?”
The youth smiled.
“You forget, Herr Goebel, that I learned much about you from your friend last night. I feel quite safe in your house.”
He flung his cloak once more over the weapon, and sat down again.