shares a wagon with Paul Gronow, our juggler. Luc Balzac has a wagon. Then there is the bandwagon. That makes eight, I believe. Then we have two more wagons filled with hay and grain, and one for the tents and one for benches. So that makes twelve altogether.”
“That’s not a lot to house a whole circus.”
“The horses are our chief performers, and they get tied behind the wagons.”
The kitchen door opened and Mathieu and Albert came in. They were dressed in trousers, scuffed boots and knitted sweaters. “All that’s left to do is to harness up the horses,” Mathieu said. “Is there more coffee, Emma?”
“Where is your sister?” Leo asked Albert as Emma poured both boys a cup.
“She went back upstairs to pack her clothes.”
“All the costumes are packed, I hope,” Emma said.
Leo decided it was time to discuss their important cargo. “I would like to see the gold, if you please.”
Mathieu scowled. “I can show you where it is,” Albert offered. He stood up and started for the door. Leo followed him.
“Make sure there is no chance of anyone coming in on you, Albert,” Mathieu warned.
“I know,” the boy replied. “Come with me, Leo, and I will show you.”
They exited the kitchen and began to walk across the field to where the wagons were parked in two lines. Most of the wagons had horses picketed next to them. The sun had come up and Leo was conscious of people looking at him curiously as he walked with Albert.
“How long has your sister’s husband been dead?” he asked Albert. “Will people think it’s odd that she has married again?”
“André has been dead for a year and a half,” Albert said. “I don’t think people will be surprised that Gabrielle has remarried, but they will be surprised to find she has married a noncircus man. We will have to find something for you to do so you don’t look too odd.”
“I can help with the horses,” Leo said.
Albert cast him a dubious look. “We’ll see,” he said.
Leo was insulted. Evidently this slight boy didn’t think he was fit to be trusted with circus horses. “I assure you that I am capable of looking after a horse,” he said coldly. “I have been riding since I was four years old.”
Albert said carefully, “You see, our horses are different from the horses you rode, Leo.” By “different” it was clear that he meant “better.”
“And somehow I don’t see you carrying manure, which is what helping out with the horses entails.”
Leo hid his surprise. He hadn’t envisioned himself carrying manure, either, but he was certainly capable of doing so, if necessary. He said grimly, “If you need me to carry manure, then I can do it.”
“Let’s see what Gabrielle says,” Albert said. “She’s the one who doles out the jobs.”
They had reached the first wagon. “This is ours.”
The wagon was painted white, with the words Robichon Cirque Equestre written on its side in red letters. There was a picture of two horses’ heads painted under it.
Leo stopped to look at the picture. “The Lipizzaners?” he asked.
Albert nodded. “The one on the left is Sandi and the other one is Noble.”
The two pictures were clearly painted by one who knew horses.
“It’s a very good painting,” Leo said slowly, leaning in for a closer look. “Who did it?”
“I did,” Albert said.
Leo looked at him. “You have talent.”
A faint flush stained Albert’s cheeks. “I love to paint and draw,” he said.
“Do you have other pictures?” Leo asked.
“Yes. I have pictures of some of the places that we’ve visited. And I have done many pictures of the circus and its horses.”
“I’d like to see them,” Leo said.
The boy’s flush deepened. “I would be happy to show you.”
They had come to the back of the wagon, which had two doors that opened outward. Albert opened the doors and climbed in, followed by Leo.
The wagon was lined with trunks. “Extra costumes and props,” Albert explained. The center of the wagon was empty save for an old upholstered sofa and some large pillows. The floor was bare wooden boards. “Here,” Albert said. He went to the front of the sofa and dropped to his hands and knees. “See, this board is loose.” He took a knife out of his pocket, fitted it between the boards and pulled it up. “They were designed to fit together very tightly, but once you pry this one up, the rest of them can be lifted out.” He removed a few more boards. “Come and see,” he said.
Leo got down on his own knees and peered into the space that was revealed below the floorboards. “It’s too dark to see anything,” he said.
“Here, I’ll get a candle.” Albert rummaged through one of the trunks and took out a candle and a strike-alight. He lit the candle and brought it back to Leo, who used it to illuminate the shallow space below.
He saw a brown canvas bag. He lifted it out and pulled it open. Inside was a large pile of gold napoléon d’or coins. He nodded with satisfaction. “Excellent,” he said.
“Monsieur Rothschild had both our wagons fitted out like this. It is very clever, I think. The boards fit so closely together that they don’t have to be nailed.”
“Yes, it is clever,” Leo agreed slowly.
“Are you satisfied?” Albert asked.
Leo replaced the moneybag. “I’d like to see the other wagon,” he said.
Albert frowned. “It’s just like this one.”
“Nevertheless, I must verify that the gold is there.”
“As you wish,” Albert said stiffly, and led the way to the second wagon, which bore a picture of three horses all rearing in unison.
They both climbed into the wagon, which was loaded with saddles and bridles and more trunks. They repeated the same inspection that Leo had made of the other wagon, then replaced the floorboards and started back to the house.
“I take it your sister’s husband was a circus man,” Leo said easily as they walked side by side.
Albert looked up at him. “Oh, yes. André was a very great horseman. I have seen him jump two horses over four feet while he was standing on their backs.”
“Good God,” Leo said.
“Yes. Luc Balzac, who traveled with us last year, is
