It was hard to believe that Mr. Francis, along with Mr. Joell and Corky, had pushed a barrow of books, sometimes to the Old Caledonian market, sometimes as far as Epping market, and that they had got their supplies by ‘knocking’ – calling at houses in the hope of getting something good.
Death of a Bookseller, Bernard J. Farmer
Until relatively recently the Caledonian Market laboured under an infamous reputation as a place where stolen goods might legally change hands, owing to an obscure medieval law known as market overt (or marché ouvert), which guaranteed a buyer title of ownership if an item was bought in good faith here between sunrise and sunset, whatever its provenance. The law was abolished in 1994, after which the market was said to have suffered a damaging drop in trade. (Hidden London)
A brief stop at the Bookhounds of London this week, with some knocking on offer.
I highly recommend Death of a Bookseller to any lovers of books, the book trade, and Bookhounds. I may well do a Bookshelf on it, but for now I just want to borrow the paragraph quoted for a bit of fun.
Let’s say this is close to the opening of a Bookhounds campaign and you’d like to do a quick one-off in which the characters find enough cash to open their own shop. That implies a coup of legendary proportions, the kind of thing that makes reputations – and probably ruins someone else’s reputation.
If this is taking place prior to a proper Bookhounds game that suggests it might be set prior to the 1930s. Not, perhaps, by much; late 20s, let’s say. The characters are younger, still have their health, full head of hair, that sort of thing. They don’t have a store, yet. They have a barrow which they push themselves, not having any other means of locomotion.
Let’s further suggest that they’re on their way to the Caledonian Market which, at this point in its history, is actually close to the Caledonian Road. That means it’s cheek-by-jowl with the cattle market, with all the stink and blood that implies. It also means the characters can take advantage of the marché ouvert; they can sell whatever they like to whomever they like and suffer no penalty, so long as they get it done quickly and can get the hell out before someone decides to point the finger at them. No crime if you sell between sunrise and sunset, after all, and the buyer’s hardly likely to squawk.
All of which leads to:
The Knocking.
You and your motley crew have, in a fit of daring, tried a knocking at a rather fancy manor house not that far from the Caledonian Road. This neighborhood would have been fashionable, once; times change, neighborhoods decay, and nowadays what looks as though it ought to have a well-dressed family and pots of servants only has the mister at home.
Except he’s not at home. He’s dead. You find him stabbed through the heart in his library, surrounded by what you can tell at a glance is a book-hoarders paradise. You could live like kings if you could liquidate the lot, but there’s no chance you could carry it all away.
Clues to be had:
Sense Trouble tells you it’s only a matter of time before someone turns up. There’s every reason to think this fellow had a servant; at any rate, someone will miss him. The police could be here at any moment.
Occult tells you that the dead man was a devotee of occult incunabula. Some of these books are incredibly rare mystic texts, Satanic compendiums, rich both with the stink of history and the stench of sulfur. In fact there’s every reason to think that he was conducting some kind of occult experiment when whoever-it-was did him in. A 2-point spend tells you that yes, he was conducting an occult experiment; a summoning. There’s no indication that whatever-it-was is still here, but then if it is a spirit it could be … well … anywhere. The Keeper might allow a 2-point spender to identify the creature being summoned: options include a Star Vampire, Rat Thing, Dimensional Shambler, Nightgaunt - anything that might be invisible, too small to notice, or fly away. How hideous you make it will determine how frightened the players are of it.
Forensics tells you that the dead man was killed by one swift strike from a bladed weapon of some kind. No hesitation, and no indication that he tried to defend himself. That suggests surprise. It also suggests the victim knew the killer and didn’t see them as a threat. There’s no sign of the weapon nor is there a lot of blood, except directly in front of the victim. There’s a pool of blood on the table over which the dead man is slumped. This blood has soaked the book he was consulting, making it almost unreadable and definitely unsellable. Pity; it would have been very valuable otherwise.
Mythos immediately spots one book in particular that will fetch a remarkable price: De Vermis Mysteriis, the 1587 German black-letter edition. Leather binding, original parchment label pasted to front cover with printer's silver seal. Additional color plates tipped in at some point between 1620 and 1650 by an unknown artist. The Hounds can think of several collectors who might give two hundred pounds or more for it. It’s up on one of the shelves, easily taken. Of course, if you take it there will be a gap on the shelf, which might indicate to someone that something was taken. That may or may not be a concern for you.
There's obviously a significant quantity of rarities but Document Analysis can tell the actual stuff from the tosh, allowing the Hounds to scoop another two hundred pounds in other works if they want to clean the place out. However, this takes time. Those who spend 2 points do the job quickly enough avoid being caught in the act. Those who don't hear feet tramping down the corridor ...
Once the characters decide what they want to do with the fortune that lies in front of them, or if they take too long blithering among themselves, the house servant comes back with a constable in tow. They’re in a frightful state; the mister’s upstairs, murdered! At which point the characters have to get out of the house with their loot without getting arrested or, worse yet, charged with murder. This may immediately move to a Fleeing moment should they have taken too long to gather the loot.
Next step: disposal of the loot and counting the proceeds. Easier said than done. They can take it all to the Caledonian if they wish, but such obviously pilfered stuff will take some clever moving. Otherwise, the Hounds are likely to see their profits cut considerably to mere pennies on the pound. All very well to rely on marché ouvert, but the people most likely to buy hooky goods are the ones least likely to pay a good price for it.
The Hounds now have the following problems to solve:
- Avoid suspicion. They may have been seen. They may have left evidence behind. They may still have the most valuable items, if they didn't immediately offload them at the Caledonian. The coppers will be sniffing round their usual haunts. Time to make yourselves scarce ...
- Avoid Retaliation. If that fellow really was murdered then there's a murderer out there somewhere who may think that the best way of avoiding the hangman is making sure the Hounds swing instead. Who put the knife in that poor unfortunate occultist?
- It was one swift stab, and all indications are the killer was either very lucky or knew his victim well enough to avoid arousing the victim's suspicion. That suggests someone in the victim's immediate circle did it and judging by his bookish interests the victim knew a lot of occult and Mythos minded folks ...
- Avoid Occult Retaliation. If that fellow summoned something up, where is it? Shall it follow the Hounds home? Will they jump at every least shadow? Perhaps it wasn't a human murderer after all; perhaps this strange spirit did him in. If so, will it come back for more?
- De Vermis Mysteriis. That one book could make their fortune. It's worth at least as much as everything else they stole. The question is, what shall the Hounds do with it now? What about those mysterious tipped-in color plates; is there something more to this book than meets the eye?
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