The road along which they were travelling was fringed with trees that cast a dappled shade onto their faces. As the temperature rose Alice untied the ribbons of her bonnet and took it from her head, resting it on her lap. The poppies were dying already and she slowly plucked them out of the ribbon and threw them down one by one on to the dusty surface of the road. Jem felt sad to see the pretty things drooping so piteously and he sighed as he glanced across at her. Suddenly he asked, ‘Why did you dye your bonny hair, Alice?’
She sighed and said, ‘Because it’s going grey. My age was showing.’
‘I didn’t notice any grey. And even if your age is showing, what does it matter? I’m fifteen years older than you are anyway.’
‘But you’ve worn well,’ she teased him.
‘Still Ajax, eh?’ he responded, making the muscles of his upper arms jump. Ajax had been his fighting name. They both laughed and Jem said, ‘Oh no, I can’t take on any young challengers any longer. I’ll have to content myself with running a freak show.’
‘You don’t want to settle down, do you?’ asked Alice, eyeing his face carefully.
He grinned at her. ‘You know I don’t. I was born on the road and so was my mother and my father before me and their people before them. All my brothers are on the road, too. We’ll maybe meet my brother Simon at Lauriston. He goes there most years and it’s a long time since I saw him. I’m looking forward to a meeting. We always used to go with our father to St James’ Fair when we were nippers and I’ve not been back since then.’
‘Did you go to the Fair? When was that?’ Alice asked curiously.
‘Let me think – forty years ago. Before you were born, my love. It must have been in the 1770s. This road was wild in those days. My father carried a broadsword in the van and sometimes he had to use it.’
‘I hope you don’t have to use one again,’ she said.
Although she was smiling there was a doubtful look on her face and Jem assured her, ‘Don’t worry, lass, there’ll be no trouble and anyway, I have a pistol now, not a sword.’ He leaned forward and cracked his whip over the backs of the ambling horses, crying out, ‘Get a move on, lads! We’ve a long way to go.’ then he told Alice, ‘We’ll camp on the haugh outside Hawick tonight and by tomorrow we should be near Lauriston. We’ll be in plenty of time for you to look around and see your old friends before the Fair starts.’
She nodded with a solemn look on her face. ‘It won’t take me long. I don’t expect there are many people I knew still there. I want to see the old places, that’s all, and find out what happened to some friends. A lot can happen in twelve years.’
‘Don’t be disappointed if it’s different and people don’t remember you,’ Jem warned her.
‘I won’t be disappointed at all by that,’ she assured him with a little laugh.
There was a long pause while they trundled along but after a bit Jem asked, ‘You’ll not leave me, Alice, will you?’ I’m afraid that when you see your old place you might want to stay.’
She shivered and put out a hand to pat his. ‘Oh, don’t worry about that, Jem. I won’t want to stay there. Oh no, I wouldn’t want to do anything like that.’
* * *
As the waggons of the freak show were trundling up the road from the south, an even more eye-catching attraction was wending its way down from Edinburgh. This was the Circus Royale which was owned by Jem’s younger brother Simon. With strings of multicoloured flags flying from the roofs of the caravans and led by a long line of slowly pacing horses, greys and roans and cream-coloured palominos, the cavalcade passed through the towns and villages that lined the route. In Little France and Dalkeith, in Fala, Ford and Pathhead, children and adults rushed out of cottages by the roadside to gaze round-eyed at the wondrous sight as it trailed past, heading for the inn at Blackshiels where there was a big field in which to camp for the night.
In the first waggon, hauled by four horses, sat Simon Archer who was Jem’s junior by about ten years. Beside him proudly sat his tight-muscled little wife Bella who was a rope walker and, like Simon, the member of a family that had been travelling performers for many years. Their children, a troupe of four young tumblers, were in the waggon behind their parents playing with Jacko, a tame monkey, and listening to their mother scolding their father. Though he was twice her size Simon cowered beneath the lash of Bella’s tongue. She was giving it to him hard as they drove along. ‘You’re nothing but a big fool, Simon Archer. Why didn’t you get rid of him long ago? You knew what he was like. You shouldn’t have trusted him after the last time and now he’s done this. What a fool you are!’
Her husband attempted to halt her flow, to little avail. ‘Hold hard, Bella. You can’t say El Diavolo meant to break his leg. It wasn’t his fault.’
She refused to be mollified. ‘It was his fault. If he hadn’t been full of brandy, he wouldn’t have fallen off that horse in Leith – and in front of the audience, too. The last time he got drunk in Penrith you should have sent him packing. I told you at the time but not you, you’re a big soft fool. He pleads with you to forgive him and you’re taken in. “I’ll give you another chance, Diavolo,” says you! So what does he do? He goes out and gets drunk again but this time, instead of breaking his arm, he breaks a leg and now we’ve got him lying back there in his van groaning fit to bust and no trick rider in the circus. It’s St James’ Fair on Monday and we’ve only that equestrienne wife of his – some equestrienne! I’ve seen better riding a pony in the park on Sundays – and a few lads that can do nothing but turn somersaults. The rest of the season’s still to come and we’ve our winter money to make. You’ve spoilt everything.’
Simon tried again. ‘I didn’t do it, Bella!’ he protested but she slapped him on the arm and her hand was hard. ‘Be quiet! Listen to what I’m saying. We’ve got to find another trick rider or our tent’ll be empty at the Fair and so will our bellies. What are we going to do?’
Rubbing his face with his hand Simon suggested, ‘We could try to hire somebody from another circus. There’ll be some at Lauriston, I expect.’
Bella snorted, ‘So you want your throat cut, do you? There’s only Perry’s on the road up here at the moment and if you tried hiring their man, they’d string you up. Where’s your brothers? One of them might have somebody.’
‘Four are in England but I heard that Bartle’s going to America soon. Jem may be up this way though because I met a friend of his at Leith and he said Jem’s thinking of coming to Lauriston.’
Bella furrowed her brow, ‘But Jem’s in boxing, isn’t he?’
Simon shook his head. ‘Not any more. He’s got freaks now, his friend said.’
‘Then he won’t have any rough riders,’ said Bella dismissively.
‘But he might know someone who does,’ suggested Simon. His wife nodded in agreement, ‘Yes, he might. Let’s hope he’s there.’
Seeing that she had calmed a little, Simon shot a look at her from under his eyebrows and remarked, ‘Jem’s friend told me something else interesting. He said Jem’s got a woman travelling with him now.’
Bella sat up straight, obviously interested. ‘Ha’s he? Is she from one of the families?’
‘I don’t think so. His friend didn’t know her. He said her name’s Alice and that Jem dotes on her.’
Bella smiled. ‘He’s as soft as you are, is big Jem. I wonder where he found her. He’s not been one for running after women, has he? He’s been on his own since his wife died.’
‘That was more than ten years ago, Bella. He must’ve got over it by now,’ protested Simon.
‘So this Alice isn’t from a travelling family… Did his friend say what she’s like?’
‘She’s some kind of lady, apparently. There was a tale about Jem meeting her a long time ago and losing touch with her but finding her again recently. He first met her when he was running the boxing ring but they’ve only just teamed up again.’
‘The boxing ring!’ Bella sounded shocked. ‘She can’t be m
uch of a lady if she had anything to do with boxing. That’s a bad game. Most of their women are the kind that walk the piazza at Covent Garden. I hope she’s not one of those.’
‘If she is, that’s his business,’ said Jem’s brother. ‘By all accounts he’s happy enough. Good luck to him, is what I say.’
By this time the big inn at Blackshiels could be seen looming up at the side of the road ahead of them. There were carts and carriages crowded into its yard and ostlers ran in every direction yelling and shouting at each other. Simon drew on the reins of his horses with gratitude in his heart because he knew that once he’s settled his circus he’d be able to enjoy good ale and good fellowship, swopping news in the bar parlour with other travellers before nightfall. The beer at Blackshiels was famous as far south as York and he was thirsty after a long hot day.
Mercifully the field was empty and the circus filed slowly through the gate. The siting of the waggons was supervised by Bella, who leaped lightly to the ground and bounced on her feet as if she was made of rubber before starting to rush around, marshalling the cavalcade. She was the real boss of the operation and everyone knew it. Simon, moving more slowly, unharnessed his horses and slipped nosebags over their muzzles. Then he walked over to the inn yard and started to fill the water buckets. It had been a hard day and watering all the animals – his horses and monkeys, his dancing bears and a mangy tiger with sad golden eyes that rejoiced in the inaccurate name of the Barbary Lion – was a long job.
As he walked to and fro among the vans he could not avoid hearing the anguished moans of his injured trick rider El Diavolo coming from the second caravan but he decided against going in and commiserating with the man who was sure to be drunk, for brandy was the only thing that could dull his pain.
After Simon had been stoically carrying water for the best part of an hour, the mistress of the inn took pity on him and called out from the raised back kitchen window. He walked up to her and saw that she had pushed a mug of beer through in his direction.
‘I thought you looked as if you needed that,’ she said.
‘I do indeed,’ he told her, drinking it down gratefully. ‘You’re busy yourself missus. We were lucky to find your field unoccupied.’
‘You were that. We’ve a full house tonight and they’re doubling up in the beds. Everybody’s going to the Fair. You’ll be headed there yourself, I expect.’
Simon wiped his mouth on his sleeve and nodded his head. ‘We are but we might not make it. Our best trick rider’s injured and we’re making slow progress because he can’t be jolted about.’
‘That’s bad luck. Do you want to leave him here?’ asked the host’s wife.
‘No, we won’t be coming back this way. We’re heading south to Newcastle after Lauriston. He’ll just have to keep on going, poor devil.’
She frowned for a moment and then said, ‘You might be in luck. A party’s just arrived in a chaise from Edinburgh and one of them’s a famous doctor. I’ll ask him to take a look at your man if you like. He might be able to do something for him.’
‘That would be a mercy but what El Diavolo needs is a new leg, I think, and I doubt if a doctor can give him that,’ said Simon and gave her the sweet smile that was very like his brother’s and which made people forget his formidable height and strength.
The landlady laughed back and flirted with her eyes. ‘I’ll speak to the doctor anyway,’ she promised.
When Simon ran back to tell Bella that a doctor might be coming to look at their trick rider she regarded him with a measure of respect as if he’d done something very clever. ‘Well done. How did you arrange that?’ she asked. Then she bristled a little and asked, ‘But did you find out how much it would cost for a doctor to look at his leg?’
‘I haven’t seen the doctor yet. It was the landlady who offered to ask him to take a look at Diavolo.’
‘Well these doctors don’t work for nothing, you know. I hope she tells him we’ve no half-guineas to throw away,’ grumbled Bella.
Simon’s temper snapped. ‘Oh, give over, woman! It’d be worth a half-guinea to get him in the saddle again, wouldn’t it? Like you were saying, the best of the season’s still to come.’
This evidence of a flash of temper from her normally placid husband quietened Bella. ‘I expect it would,’ she agreed in a humbler tone.
They had almost finished their meal when the sound of strangers’ voices were heard outside their waggon and Simon looked out to see two well-dressed gentlemen wandering about among the caravans.
‘I love a circus,’ one of them, a grey-haired fellow in very fashionable clothes was saying. ‘When I was a lad and the animal show came to Lauriston I used to want to run away with it.’
‘Instead of which you joined the Edinburgh menagerie, Thompson!’ laughed his companion.
‘Yes, I became a lion… a medical lion,’ agreed the first man and gave a pretend roar that started all the performing dogs barking.
Amid the cacophony of noise, Simon jumped down to the ground and approached the strangers. ‘G’day gents. Do you want something special?’ he asked.
They stared at his mountainous shoulders with respect and the man called Thompson said, ‘The landlady told me you needed a doctor. Apparently somebody’s injured, is that right?’
Simon smiled. ‘That’s right, sir. My trick rider broke his leg four days ago and it’s giving him gyp. He’s in the waggon back there. Are you gents surgeons?’
‘I’m a doctor but it’s a long time since I set broken legs. I’ll take a look at him though if you like,’ said Thompson and his friend laughed, telling Simon, ‘And if the man dies, Thompson here’ll give you a good price for the body. He’s an anatomist, Professor of Anatomy at Edinburgh in fact.’
The first man shot a warning glance at him and told Simon, ‘Don’t listen to him. I’m the Professor of Anatomy but I’m a doctor right enough and I might be able to help. Let’s have a look at him anyway.’
Bella had now joined the group and walked in Simon’s shadow as they all went towards the injured man’s caravan. When they knocked on the door it was opened by a slatternly woman who was obviously reeling drunk. Without speaking, she held the door open and ushered them in. The light was dim and there was an overwhelming smell of horse liniment, unwashed human bodies and brandy. El Diavolo, whose real name was Patrick
Murphy, lay on his tumbled cot with a bottle on the floor beside him. His wife Selina, the equestrienne, came back from the door and sank down on the other bunk with a glass in her hand and her disordered hair tumbling round her shoulders. Untidy as she was, she looked neat compared to her husband who was half-naked and deliriously drunk. His broken right leg lay disjointedly on the top of his blankets like the limb of a broken doll.
Simon, who was a fastidious man, scowled at the squalor in which the pair were living and turned back to fling the door of the caravan wide open so that fresh air could enter and clear some of the stench. Then he bent down and took the bottle off the floor as he told the sick man, ‘This gentleman’s a surgeon and he’s very kindly said that he’ll look at your leg.’
El Diavolo only muttered and waved a hand. ‘Doesn’t feel a thing,’ said the surgeon’s friend and laughed.
Bella glared at Selina who gave a fatuous grin back and said in a broad Irish accent, ‘Sure, brandy’s the only way to take away the pain.’
Professor Thompson drew back the dirty blanket and bent over the patient. When he tried to straighten the leg, the sick man groaned and ground his teeth alarmingly so Thompson looked around for something to give him to bite on. He found a leather glove on the floor and handed it to the moaning man. ‘Bite on that,’ he instructed, ‘because I’ve got to straighten this leg up or it’ll never mend.’
The scream that issued from the caravan while this operation was going on made the hairs stiffen on the backs of all Simon’s animals. In the Archers’ caravan Jacko the monkey clung to Simon’s eldest son and gibbered in terror. Even revellers in the bar parlo
ur heard the scream and looked at each other in wonder and dread.
Fifteen minutes later Professor Thompson was back in the open air and telling Simon, ‘It’s not good, I’m afraid. The left femur’s badly broken and he’s in a fever.’
Everyone, even Selina who was hanging out of the caravan door, looked solemn at this. ‘Will he be able to ride again?’ Simon asked.
‘He might – it’ll probably be easier for him than walking but not for a long time. I doubt if he’ll ever be much use as a trick rider again, though, and he’s not going to make any recovery at all unless he stops drinking and starts eating properly,’ Thompson warned them.
‘He’s my speciality rider and he used to be good – before the brandy got him. We’re on our way to St James’ Fair and we’re without a horseman. The crowd always expects at least one. I hope they don’t get nasty,’ said Simon mournfully.
The Professor laughed, ‘I’m a Lauriston laddie myself and the people there are usually pretty peaceable – until it’s dark anyway. Don’t give a late show, that’s all. But there’s usually good gypsy horsemen at the Fair. Why don’t you look out for one and hire him to perform with you? A gypsy in the cast would at least stop his friends from breaking up your show if they don’t like it.’
Simon brightened when he heard this suggestion and he became even more cheerful when Professor Thompson refused to accept a fee for his treatment of Diavolo. ‘I can guess what a financial loss this is for you,’ he said. ‘Keep your guinea in memory of the good times I had at the circus as a lad. And don’t forget to find yourself a gypsy – they’re all great riders. I’ll come and see you on Monday night and give you my opinion of your acts.’
Simon was beaming when he said, ‘That’s a good idea, sir. I’ll look for a hard riding gypsy. It shouldn’t be too difficult to find one of those.’
* * *
At the same time as Simon was watching Professor Thompson setting El Diavolo’s smashed leg, Odilie and her father were in the stable of Havanah Court examining the new chestnut mare which he had bought for her.
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