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Chapter Twenty-Two
“Tis only for the guilty to tremble.”
Private Education: A Practical Plan for the Studies of Young Ladies.
Elizabeth Appleton. 1815.
“My lords, ladies and gentlemen, may I present for your delectation and pleasure, The Knights of Yore!”
Wild applause rolled as four muscular horses galloped into the sawdust-covered arena below, their riders dressed in medieval tunics of scarlet and black, unicorns and swirled dragons decorating their chests.
Leaning her elbows on the velvet-cushioned balustrade of their box, Matilda’s breath caught at the sight, each rider hidden by a lavish mask – king, jester, lion and ghoul.
Pounding drums from the orchestra accompanied the thunder of hooves in the amphitheatre as the great beasts galloped in an endless circle, fast and reckless, faces a deceiving blur.
Matilda drew back from the edge and placed a palm to her chest in a vain attempt to slow her racing heart. But a savage yell erupted from the masked king as shortened jousting lances appeared from beneath their cloaks and Matilda tipped forward once more, not wanting to miss a single moment.
Never had she visited Astley’s Amphitheatre before – had thought it would entail preposterous circus tricks and tumbling fools – yet tonight, lithesome female acrobats in sensuous silks had defied gravity upon pole and rope, and black-clad sorcerers had appeared in puffs of smoke as though arising from hell.
A magical haze layered this fantastical circus world – trickery, the sleight of hand, the scent of leather, horse and exotic perfume.
Matilda briefly closed her eyes to allay the assault on her senses.
Over the past days, there’d been no sight nor sound of her cousin, despite an agreeable walk in Hyde Park and a visit to Dulwich Picture Gallery, so this glamorous venue had been suggested by Mr Finlay for its popularity and…ease of guarding the exits.
Was her cousin here within this melee – watching and waiting?
The amphitheatre was crammed from pit to rafter. Hidden in the lower shadowed seats, couples furtively kissed or raucously argued, penniless bucks waved spotted handkerchiefs and impish children scampered amongst the benches.
Their own small party was situated within a private box first tier up and not far from the ring, a clear exit via the curtain behind them to the hall and stairs. Two further tiers of boxes wove around the theatre, the ladies’ frocks and gentlemen’s waistcoats a riot of colour. From above boomed frequent unruly cheers, an occasional scarf, ostrich feather or glove drifting past their box as items tumbled over the precipitous edge.
Illuminating the entire spectacle was a vast chandelier suspended from the domed ceiling, enough candlelight to see the acts but not to diminish their mystique, costumes glinting, faces shadowed. Green and gold decorated the ornate boxes and Corinthian columns rose tall, fluted in gilt and white. Beyond the orchestra rose a further stage with fastened crimson curtains, denying, for the time being, the audience its attractions.
Matilda clenched her fists in her skirts as the king and jester now galloped in differing directions, circling, lances held straight and true – no fear in these lean men whose bodies lifted and fell with their beasts as though one. Centaurs come to life.
A thud and roar as they clashed, the jester tumbling sideways from his saddle, one foot caught in the stirrup, fingers carving into the sawdust as his horse continued its gallop. In fright, Matilda leaped to her feet along with half the audience, the hooves pounding so close to his skin.
But the jester abruptly swung himself upright and into the saddle, laughing loud at his cunning deception.
“Are you enjoying it, Matilda?”
She gulped, flopped into her chair and turned to a chortling Seth seated beside her, an enthralled Chloe to his left.
Seth’s demeanour appeared jovial, yet she sensed an implacable alertness beneath that jacket of black and waistcoat of silver – primed and forceful.
“I’m not sure enjoyment is the right word. For it’s…” Side by side, the ghoul and lion now circled the ring, their horses’ eyes flaring, midnight manes flying, the brisk beat of drum and hoof spearing her soul and heart with its rhythm. “It’s dangerous and exciting and…irresistible.”
With a flash of scarlet and kick of boot from stirrup, the lion man now stood balanced upon his saddle, arms aloft and black cloak whipping, until he deftly leaped from his steed to fall astride the ghoul’s mount.
Accompanied by rapturous cheers, the two men mock wrestled, their horses galloping without guidance, before the ghoul rose and somersaulted from its back, landing to the sawdust upon one knee.
An unearthly apparition indeed.
The crowd stood as one to applaud as all the knights came forth and bowed, faces still veiled behind those sumptuous masks – they might have been Romany or royalty, wicked or worthy, and Matilda drew breath at the tantalising, seductive thought.
And although in truth this was all to flush out Astwood, a menacing shadow that refused to come to the light, she could not help but feel invigorated by yet another new adventure – so much to experience with Seth at her side.
Clowns with vivid coloured outfits now burst into the ring, faces painted pure white, lips overly rouged to an upward tilt and their hair caught in peculiar red bunches upon their heads.
