Philippa Gregory - Meridon

David did his little showman’s bow, his hand on his heart. ‘I’m obliged, sir,’ he said formally.

Robert nodded at us. ‘Finish your practice and turn out the horses and then come in, the rest of you,’ he said. ‘You can all take a glass of wine tonight to say farewell to your trainer. He’s done you proud.’

He turned and went out of the door. I dropped from the practice trapeze and watched Jack catching as Katie came towards him, her little face grimacing with concentration.

David called them down and all three of them threw somersaults into the net, a showy confident end to a good act. I watched the wood shavings underneath my boots.

‘Listen to me, you three,’ David said, his voice lilting. ‘I’ve done with you now and these are my final words to be taken seriously.’ He turned to Jack. ‘Watch the rigging,’ he said. ‘These are good frames and I’ve used such things myself. But the net is a new idea. I don’t know when it will get old. I don’t know whether it will stretch. Test it every time you get it out with a couple of hay bales into the middle, and watch it. Your lives depend on it. Don’t forget.’

Jack nodded, his face grave.

‘You keep the beat,’ David said to him as if he were passing on a mantle of office. ‘You call the trick, and if they’re not ready or out of time, you keep yourself out of their way and let them swing back, away from you again. It’s not your job to grab at them. Only catch the good tricks.’

Jack’s dark eyes were wide. He nodded.

David turned to Dandy and Katie. ‘Don’t do the catcher’s work for him,’ he said. ‘He’s paid to catch. You swing to where you’re supposed to be and let him earn his money. He catches you, you just stretch out to where he ought to be. If he’s not there, you swing back again, or do the trick to the net and you get on your back and you fall soft.’

Katie and Dandy nodded, as earnest as apprentices.

‘Trust him,’ David said. His voice sent a great shudder down my spine.

‘Trust him,’ David said again. ‘He’s your catcher. You’ve got to fly to him as if you loved him entirely and are certain that he will be there. Trust him and give yourself over to him.’

Robert had left the door ajar and it swung open. A gust of icy wind blew in, and with it, a great white tumbling bird. A barn owl, eyes glaring and dazzled by our lanterns. It flew in, a massive wide-winged bird, entirely silently, not a whisper of its passing, its open crazed face turning right and left, seeking its way out. It flew directly over Dandy and Jack, and then wheeled around, so close to her that its passing stirred her hair. It flew between her and the lantern hung on the ceiling. Its shadow fell black over her and Dandy gave a little affected shriek and clung to Jack’s arm, then the door swung open again, the bird turned and was gone. I fell back against the wall and felt the flints and mortar sharp against my fingers. I was shaken.

‘My God,’ Katie exclaimed. ‘That was like a ghost!’

I saw David rub his hands hard against his cheeks. I saw him square his shoulders, I saw him wipe his hand across his mouth as if he were painting on his bright professional smile.

‘Just a barn owl trying to get out of the cold, poor thing,’ he said lightly. I think only I heard the strain in his voice. ‘Snow is coming, we’d best run up to the house and get ready for dinner. It’s the last decent meal I’ll have for days. I’m cooking for myself tomorrow.’

He looked across at me and his bright smile faltered for a moment while we met each other’s darkened gaze.

‘You hungry, Merry?’ he asked determinedly, willing me to pretend that I had not seen that second of his superstitious fear. I pushed myself away from the wall to stand on my own two feet.

‘Starving,’ I said. My voice was thin, but the others noticed nothing. David’s speech had been planned to send them out with their new act full of confidence. He wanted them to trust each other entirely, he wanted them to work without him, as well as they had done for the past two months. He had wanted to send them out with his blessing. He did not want them thrown and frightened with the easy superstition of travelling people.

We clattered around, banking in the stove, blowing out the lanterns except one to light our way back to the house across the fields. I looked for the barn owl when we were outside, but it had gone.

We all got tipsy at dinner. Robert became maudlin and blinked at the shiny surface of the table, and then insisted on singing loud and mournful ballads. David declared that all Welshmen could sing from birth without training and blasted out some convincing evidence in an incomprehensible language to prove it. Dandy danced very prettily with her skirts held high, and Katie sang a bawdy ale-house ditty. Jack and I became morosely quiet with the drink, though neither of us had more than a couple of glasses.

Robert called a halt at eleven o’clock.

‘Work tomorrow, same as usual,’ he said.

‘I’ll be gone as you’re rising,’ David said to the three of us. ‘I’ll say my farewells to you now.’

He spread his arms wide and hugged all three of us: Katie, Dandy and me. Katie he bussed and put to one side and whispered something in her ear which made her giggle and blush. Dandy he held very close for a moment and then set her on her feet.

‘Keep your wits about you and push out on the beat,’ he said. ‘If you know a trick isn’t going to work then drop into the net. And don’t get lazy! And practise every day!’

He turned to me and put his arms around me. ‘I wish I could have got you up high, Merry,’ he said. ‘But I am sorrier than I can tell you about your fall.’

I shrugged. ‘I’ll have others,’ I said, thinking of Sea waiting to be broken to the saddle.

He did not hug Jack. He took him by the shoulders and he looked into Jack’s guileless open face. ‘They’re your responsibility now,’ he said. ‘It is your job to keep the flyers safe. Do you swear to me on your life that you will do that?’

Jack blinked, surprised at David’s tone. ‘Yes,’ he said simply. ‘I’ll do the best I can.’

I felt my hands clench into fists, like they do when I’m afraid. David scanned Jack’s face once and then smiled.

‘Well, good luck to the three of you then,’ he said. He nodded to Robert over our heads. ‘You’ll always have my direction,’ he said. ‘If you need me for new tricks or re-training I’d be glad to work with the four of them again.’

Robert rose from the table, and clasped his hand with a smile. ‘I’m obliged to you,’ he said. ‘It’s better than I’d dreamed.’

David saw us to the kitchen door. The room was cosy, the stove banked-in for the night. A dog in its basket. A cat curled in the hearth. We opened the back door and a gust of icy air blew in, a swirl of snowflakes with it. Dandy and Katie pulled their shawls over their ducked heads and dashed out down the path towards the stables. I hesitated on the doorway, careless of the blowing snow. David looked down at me, waiting.

‘Does it mean anything,’ I asked, ‘in shows? Does it mean anything when an owl flies across the ring? When a bird flies in?’

David’s smile was easy. ‘Nothing at all, my fey little gypsy,’ he said tenderly. ‘Now run to your bed before you get cold. And try to stop tumbling off those horses of yours. If you’re worried about Dandy there’s little need. I’ve done the best I can and she knows her job.’

I nodded, longing to be convinced.

‘It’s all right then?’ I said.

‘It’s all right,’ he said, and he bent and gave me a gentle kiss on the forehead. I held my ground and did not pull away from his touch.

I stepped out of the back door and the wind hit me in the face and the snowflakes dazzled me. I dipped my head and ran in the direction of the stables. David had said it was all right. David had said that the bird meant nothing, its shadow falling on Dandy meant nothing. If there had been danger David would have warned me.