Joan Wolf - White Horses

“I’m sure Gabrielle will want to sit beside her new husband, chérie,” Henri said. “Bring over those chairs, Leo, and you both can squeeze in here.”

Leo dragged the chairs over and he and Gabrielle sat down.

Sully asked, “I was wondering—why are we starting out so early this year, Gabrielle? It’s colder and the light doesn’t last as long. We usually don’t start for another two weeks.”

Leo looked at the man who was the Cirque Equestre’s clown. Sully was a tall, thin man with mournful brown eyes and a receding hairline. He didn’t look at all jolly.

“I just thought it would be a good idea to get a head start on the season,” Gabrielle said easily. “The more performances we put on, the more money we make. No?”

Leo, who knew that they were starting early so they could move the gold as quickly as possible, shot a swift look around the table to see if Gabrielle’s reason was accepted. A few people nodded and the rest seemed indifferent. He relaxed.

Jeanne Maheu, one of the band members, smiled at him. “Have you been to Astleys circus in London, Leo?”

Jeanne was an exotic-looking woman, with long black hair and slanting brown eyes. She almost looked Oriental, Leo thought.

“No, I have never had that privilege,” he said.

“Have you ever seen any circuses at all?” she pressed.

He shook his head. “No, madame, I’m afraid I haven’t.”

“Jeanne,” she corrected him. “We are all on a first-name basis in this circus, aren’t we, Gabrielle?”

“Yes,” Gabrielle replied.

“Never seen a circus?” Jeanne’s husband, Pierre, was astonished.

Leo did his best to look genial. “I will remedy that omission tomorrow. And I’m looking forward to it.”

Gabrielle said, “You have to fetch our drinks from the bar, Leo. I will have a glass of burgundy.”

Leo stood up, annoyed to have taken orders from Gabrielle in front of the others, and went off to the bar. When he came back to the table the rest of them were discussing the next day’s program.

“I am going by the order that Gabrielle gave me, and that’s that,” Gerard said hotly.

Luc said to Gabrielle, “I don’t think I should come directly after you. That makes too many equestrian acts in a row.”

“What’s the matter, Luc?” teased Antonio Laurent, one of the band members. “Afraid of the competition?”

Luc’s blue eyes glittered. “No!” he retorted.

“Let’s go with what I have for tomorrow, Luc,” Gabrielle said matter-of-factly. “If it needs changes I’ll make them for the next day.”

Luc did not look happy, but after a moment he nodded agreement.

The conversation veered to what they had all been doing over the winter, and Leo leaned back and watched the various faces around the table. The atmosphere among the group was comfortable. Everyone seemed to know everyone else and there was easy laughter when Adolphe Laurent told a funny story, which was then topped by his brother, Antonio.

They were a kind of people who were utterly foreign to Leo, but they seemed a pleasant-enough group. This might not be so bad, he thought. I’ll do what I have to do for four weeks, and then it will be over.

“What kind of horses did you sell, Leo? Were they racehorses?”

He brought his attention to Jeanne’s inquisitive face. “Hunters, mainly,” he said. “There’s a big market in England for reliable hunters.”

“Oh, yes, the English and their hunting,” Gerard commented. “Pierre Robichon used to say that the English passion for hunting has destroyed their horsemanship.”

“How is that?” Carlotta asked.

“They have lost their seat. All they do is stand in their stirrups and gallop,” Gerard said.

“I don’t think it’s quite as bad as that,” Leo said mildly.

“Well that is what Pierre said.”

“Papa meant that there is no manège training in England,” Gabrielle explained.

“There isn’t any in France any longer, either,” Leo shot back.

“But there was before the Revolution and there will be again after Napoléon. There is a tradition in France of classical riding. There is no such tradition in England.”

“The Duke of Newcastle was English and he trained in the classical way,” Leo said.

“True, but Papa said no one in England studied the Duke of Newcastle any longer. The few Englishmen who were interested in learning to ride properly came to Papa when he was the king’s Master of the Horse.”

Leo was annoyed. It was one thing for him to think his countrymen were not the best riders, but it was quite another to hear the same opinion from foreigners. “It takes a great deal of skill to ride a horse cross country,” he said stiffly.

Gerard said, “It is easy to gallop a horse cross country. All you need is balance. Watch Gabrielle ride tomorrow, then you will see what real horsemanship is.”

Gabrielle smiled at Gerard. “Thank you, Gerard,” she said.

Luc said scornfully, “However did you come to marry such a barbarian? Your father must be turning in his grave.”

Barbarian? Leo was outraged.

Gabrielle flushed. “Leo is not a barbarian,” she said.

Leo did not find her defense overly enthusiastic.

Jeanne gave him a warm smile. “Don’t pay any attention to Luc, Leo. He is just jealous because you married Gabrielle.”

“Not jealous, Jeanne—amazed,” Luc said sarcastically.

Everything in Leo wanted to give this bunch of common people an icy dressing down. But he couldn’t do it; it would alienate them and would make them wary of him. He forced a smile to his face. “Talk to me tomorrow, after I have seen your horses perform.”

“Good idea,” Gabrielle said briskly. She stood up. “I am ready to go back to the hotel, Leo.”

He stood up also. He was really getting tired of her habit of issuing orders to him. It was a good thing she was so pretty, he thought, otherwise this assignment would be miserable.

They walked back to the hotel in silence. The only ones left in the lounge were the Maroni brothers, who were still playing cards. Gabrielle bade them good-night and started toward the stairs.

“I am just going to step out to the stable yard to check the wagons,” Leo told her quietly.

She nodded. “I’ll wait for you.”

The stable yard was quiet. The moonlight illuminated the two wagons with the white horses painted on their sides. Leo pulled on the wagon doors, content that they were securely locked.

Christ, but I wish this journey was over, Leo thought. It stretched out before him like an eon of time. But it was only four weeks. Four weeks wasn’t that long, Leo thought. Then the gold would be delivered and he would be free to rejoin his regiment. He looked up to the sky at the full moon. The same moon was shining on his compatriots in winter quarters in Portugal, he thought.

Four weeks, and he would be able to return to them.

He went back inside to rejoin Gabrielle, who was waiting in the lounge. Together they mounted the stairs to their bedroom.

Another plain, serviceable room, Leo thought as he walked in through the door after Gabrielle. It was furnished with one bed, one wardrobe, a bedside table with a lamp and another table with a basin of water. The floor was wide wooden planks with a small, thin rug just inside the door. Colette immediately jumped on the bed and established herself at the foot.

The floor looked very hard, Leo thought with discouragement.

“We will do the same as we did last night,” Gabrielle said. “I will tell you when you can turn around.”

Leo turned away and fished his nightshirt out of his bag, which lay on the floor, and proceeded to take off his boots. Behind him he could hear the sounds Gabrielle made as she took off her own clothes, and he tried heroically not to envision how she would look naked. Her waist had been so slim and supple when he grasped it this evening….