Page 69 of The Ringmaster’s Daughter

At first, he thought the wind had destroyed a tent. The shouts from outside were frantic; then lights came, first torches, then other lights that shone into Michel’s tent and almost blinded him.

‘Where is he?’ the voice behind the light said.

‘Who?’ Michel sat up, shielding his eyes.

‘Darbonne.’

‘I don’t know anyone by that name.’

A shout made the man leave Michel, who ran quickly out of the tent to find Anton face-down on the ground, a soldier cuffing him as a black car waited, its flag of red with the black insignia flapping in the wind.

‘What’s happening?’ Michel asked Jean, who stood watching from his caravan steps.

‘They’ve come for Anton.’

Michel saw Frieda watching, her hand covering her mouth, as if stopping herself from screaming out to her trapeze partner – the man who had caught her mid-flight and never once let her fall. Michel wanted to go to her, to wrap his arms around her, but he could not move. He was rooted to the spot as the wind blew and the rain pelted down, and Anton was heaved upwards.

For a moment, Michel met Anton’s gaze – the man’s eyes were wide, his mouth agape. It reminded Michel of when he had fallen as a child – that look of shock and panic.

‘What has he done?’ Michel croaked, his throat tight.

‘I don’t know,’ Jean said.

‘Can’t we—’ Michel made to move towards Anton, but Jean pulled him back.

‘Come inside, there’s nothing to be done.’

‘But… what has he done?’

‘I told you, I don’t know,’ Jean said, and turned away from Michel who followed him inside.

‘Don’t lie, Jean! What is going on?’

Jean sighed and rubbed his eyes. ‘They say… they say he was distributing anti-German leaflets in town. They say he is with the resistance – they are arresting him for being a spy.’

Michel thought of the radio that never left his side, the wires in his tent and Werner threatening him.

‘It’s happened before,’ Michel said.

‘Once, just before you joined. He was with some sort of resistance group – sending messages over the radio. He said it was the only way he could help.’

‘And Werner stopped him.’

‘He thought he had. But then, obviously Anton didn’t.’

Michel stood at the door and watched as Anton was pushed into the back of the car. A soldier approached Werner and Michel saw the ringmaster pass the solider some money. It was a quiet, fleeting exchange. Then Werner went inside his caravan and did not look back as Anton was driven away, the car’s rear lights red in the gloom of the night.

Nine

Ringmaster Werner

That morning, before the sun had a chance to rise, the troupe quickly packed up. Michel rode Beau over to Jean who was steering his caravan, Louis straining against the reins.

‘He’s tired,’ Jean said, and rubbed at his own eyes with one hand.

‘We all are.’

‘I saw something last night, just before they left with Anton. Werner gave some money to one of the soldiers.’