Page 81 of The Ringmaster’s Daughter

‘You did all you could for him,’ Jean said.

‘I felt terrible when he was stuck in that crate, when we could find nowhere to stay. But we did find somewhere, a resting place for him.’ Werner began to cry once more.

‘I should head to bed myself.’ Michel stood.

‘And you, Michel, you found us somewhere to stay, didn’t you?’ Werner was slurring now, his eyes tight. ‘The wonderful Michel.’ He stood and twirled, his drink spilling on the ground, drops hitting the fire and making it hiss and spit. ‘The wonderful, marvellous Michel!’

‘Come now, Werner.’ Jean stood too. ‘Let’s get you to bed.’

‘I’m the boss!’ Werner looked at Jean and pointed at his own chest. ‘Me. I’m the boss. Sit down. You too, Michel. Sit.’

Michel, seeing how drunk Werner was, and how he too had a muggy head, knew no good would come of staying. ‘I’ll just go to bed…’ he said again.

‘Sit down!’ Werner boomed. ‘I’m the boss, you idiot, orphaned pretty-boy. Telling me what I should do – I tell you what to do.’

‘I didn’t tell you what to do,’ Michel said.

Werner marched towards him and pushed against his chest, sending Michel back a few paces. ‘Smart little mouth you’ve got!’

Michel, whether from tiredness, the wine, or the distaste he had for Werner, pushed back against him, knocking his body to the floor. He stepped forward and Jean moved between him and Werner. ‘Don’t do anything you’ll regret,’ Jean warned.

‘Let him! Let him hit me and then he can go!’ Werner shouted from the dusty ground.

‘Michel, don’t.’ Jean held him back.

‘Go!’ Werner was now crying, fat heavy sobs. ‘Go. You know nothing about us!’

Michel relaxed his arms, and Jean turned to help Werner sit up by the fire, filling his now empty glass. ‘Drink this, calm yourself and then to bed,’ he soothed.

‘And then to bed,’ Giordano repeated, his eyes wide.

Werner calmed, his sobs slowing. He wiped his eyes then blew his nose. He looked at Michel. ‘Don’t go,’ he said quietly. ‘I’ve had a little too much to drink. And with Aramis…’

Michel dragged a palm over his face and rubbed at his eyes. ‘I’m going to bed.’

‘No, wait. Please, Michel. Sit. Please,’ Werner asked.

Jean nodded at Michel. ‘Please, Michel?’

Michel sat, his knees drawn up to his chest, all four silent and watching the flames.

‘We’ve been here before, haven’t we?’ Werner suddenly said.

‘I don’t think you tried to punch me though.’ Jean laughed.

‘Me neither,’ Giordano chimed in, now the tension had gone. ‘You just sat us down quietly after you had shouted at us in a rehearsal, told us we were useful. We thought we were going to be fired!’

‘You had only been with us a few days then,’ Werner said. ‘But you could see who we were.’

‘Because we were like you too,’ Jean offered.

‘Quite right. You are.’ Werner turned to Michel. ‘You’re wondering what we are talking about, aren’t you?’

Michel nodded.

‘Lucien said you sorted things in town today. And then you dug the grave for Aramis. Filled it in yourself. I have to admit, I was too hard on you, Michel. But I had to be. We have so much to lose.’

‘I won’t leave,’ Michel said.