Ascension (25 page)

T
WO MONTHS AFTER THE FIRE
, the trial of Cole Fisher-Fielding began. Three others, the men whose responsibility it had been to set out the fire extinguishers, had already been found guilty, receiving jail sentences ranging from six months to two years. It seemed certain that Cole would be acquitted; he had papers proving that his request for the non-flammable waterproofing had been refused, as well as a certificate of inspection from the city’s permit office. He had broken no laws, his lawyers asserted, and therefore was guilty of no crime.

It had taken a month for officials to complete their investigation, at which time the F-F was permitted to leave town. Some people wanted to disband to winter quarters, to lay up the
show, but Cole knew that if this happened, the chances of it ever starting up again were slim to none. It would be difficult to keep going; they had no big top to play under, and many of the acts had lost some if not all of their equipment. The reputation of the F-F was severely tarnished, and the only way to repair it was to show people something good.

Cole called in every outstanding favour owed him, made some promises of his own and managed to scrounge up enough gear to keep the show touring. There was no time to get a new big top made, and even if there was, there would still be no adequate way to waterproof it, so Cole booked the F-F into arenas and halls in a much-scaled-down version. The important thing was that the show stay on the road. He only wished he could accompany it. He left his nephew Martin in charge, instructing him to watch out for Norris. If the Spouses could, they would use the tragedy as an excuse to seize control of the circus.

The first two days of his trial went well. There was no real evidence against him, and it was fairly clear to those in the room that some scapegoating was taking place. On the third day, however, things took a turn for the worse.

Added at the last minute as a witness for the prosecution was Norris Fisher-Fielding. Reporters scribbled furiously, and people whispered to each other. Cole’s lawyers looked at each other, puzzled.

Norris took the stand calmly. When he spoke his voice was soft, and for the majority of his testimony he came across as a reluctant witness, offering nothing incriminating against Cole, let alone damning.

The prosecuting lawyer chose that moment to make it clear why he had called Norris.

“Mr. Fisher-Fielding, let me ask you this. To the best of your knowledge, had the Fisher-Fielding Circus Company made any
inquiries with any private companies concerning the availability of non-flammable waterproofing?”

Norris swallowed, appearing nervous, and mumbled, “Yes.”

“Could you speak up, sir?”

“Yes.”

“And what was the result of this inquiry?”

“It was determined that it would be possible to purchase this waterproofing from a private interest.”

“And was this done?”

“No.”

“Why is that?”

“It was determined to be too expensive.”

Cole’s lawyers scrambled, demanding that Norris provide proof of this statement, which he could not, but the damage was done. Closing arguments were made, and the jury went into deliberations. The trial was over.

Free on bail, Cole returned to his hotel. He was freezing cold but sweating profusely, and had been experiencing a shooting pain in his arm all day. As he climbed the stairs to his room, he keeled over, clutching at his chest.

He was rushed to the hospital in one of the ambulances that had removed the injured from the circus lot. Doctors worked frantically to save him, and though he was twice pronounced dead, he managed to survive. He had suffered a massive heart attack and would be in the hospital for some time.

The next day the jury delivered a guilty verdict. Cole was sentenced to three years’ imprisonment. Because of his health the sentence was commuted, but nonetheless Cole was now a convicted felon. He knew that his days of running the F-F were over; the Respectables would never vote him in again.

He was correct. An emergency vote was held, and Norris was elected interim president of the Fisher-Fielding Circus Company. When Martin told him the outcome, Cole wept openly. Three weeks later he died.

The Fisher-Fielding Extravaganza was playing in Sacramento when they received the news. Norris refused to allow the flags to be lowered to half mast, and forbade the ringmaster to announce his uncle’s passing. He could not silence the performers, however. The Ursaris performed in black and carried an empty chair across the wire. The band played Cole’s favourite songs. The whole circus came to a halt for an entire three minutes, paying silent tribute to the passing of the last of the original Fisher-Fieldings and the last great showman of the American circus. Then the show went on.

I
T BECAME CLEAR TO
A
NNA
that if Daniel had any memory of his life before the fire, it was not going to resurface any time soon. Beyond his own name, the boy seemed to have little awareness of anything. He was a good-natured child, kind to Elsabeth and Mika, who had taken to him immediately. It was not that Anna did not like this boy; she simply didn’t feel that he belonged with them.

“He isn’t our child,” she said, many times.

“Whose child is he?” Salvo answered.

“That’s not the point. Someone might be looking for him.”

“No one is looking. His picture was in the paper. No one came forward.”

“We aren’t responsible for him.”

“I took him from his mother’s arms. I am responsible.”

“We cannot keep him.”

This was how this discussion ended every time they had it. But they never gave him away. Anna knew Salvo would never
agree to it, and Salvo knew she would never do it without his agreement. Anna pronounced judgment knowing nothing would come of it. Daniel was soon as much a member of their family as anyone.

An orphan in the circus was never an orphan. Children ran in packs like dogs, toddlers were herded like sheep. So it was with János; when Margit left, János was not allowed to suffer his mother’s absence. Etel picked up the majority of the maternal duties, but while the troupe performed, the children were in capable hands. The Fisher-Fielding Extravaganza could be a lonely place for adults, but it was never such for children.

If Norris Fisher-Fielding could have found a way to keep the performers’ children at home, he would have done so. He felt that there was no place for children in the circus, a view seen as antithetical and tyrannical by most, if not all, of the F-F staff. In addition to this affront, Norris set about removing many of Cole’s signature acts, a seeming attempt to erase his nemesis’s mark upon the show.

One of the first acts to get the axe was the elephant ballet. Though Salvo had never liked it, he was sorry to see it go, knowing that the people who came to the show had enjoyed it, and having reversed his position on the loathsomeness of elephants in general. He had seen them in pain during the fire, just as people had been, and somehow their mutual pain had made them less threatening. He missed his friend Emil Narwha, who was perhaps the only real friend he had ever had, and so did the elephants. Their grief was shared. Even Salvo could tell.

Had Salvo thought more about himself and less about the elephants, he might have realized that the Ursari act was in jeopardy. They had been discovered by Cole, championed by Cole, and Salvo had been a good friend to the man. In addition, Anna’s
roundabout relation to Norris and spurning of his romantic intentions, only to marry a lowly performer, had left him with little love for her.

Anna had seen this fallout coming and had tried to warn Salvo, but he had not listened. He believed that the act was all that mattered, and he knew people still loved it, so he was disinclined to fully appreciate how precarious their situation was.

Then, just when the indoor dates were beginning to draw crowds again, Norris made a move that surprised everyone and likely made Cole roll over in his grave. With a full month and a half left in the season, Norris ordered the Fisher-Fielding Extravaganza back to winter quarters in Florida. They were done for the year. This was in reaction to a recent court decision ordering the Fisher-Fielding Circus Company to pay restitution to the victims of the fire, a sum totalling nearly five million dollars. Norris argued that it would bankrupt the circus, a claim no one believed. In an effort to back up his claim, Norris ordered the circus off the road.

Salvo hated Florida. He hated the heat, hated sitting around for weeks at a time without performing. The others looked forward to the break, but for Salvo it was like going to jail.

In an effort to talk Norris out of an early hiatus, he went to see him in his private railcar. Norris beckoned him in, his face cold. “I’m afraid I have no choice,” he said after hearing Salvo’s request. “But I’m glad you came. I was going to send for you anyway.”

“Why?” Salvo asked, not liking the tone in Norris’s voice or the slow sneer that had crept across his face.

“Mr. Ursari, it is my unfortunate task to inform you that the Fisher-Fielding Circus Company is releasing you from your contract at this time.”

Salvo was stunned. “We’re fired?”

“If you want to put it that way, then yes, you’re fired.”

“What for?”

“You act is not what it once was. It has become stale.”

“That is a lie.”

“I assure you, Mr. Ursari, it is not. But, further to that, there has been some suspicion among my police staff regarding your sister’s involvement in the fire, and—”

“What?” Salvo staggered back, unable to believe what he had heard.

“We have reason to believe that she may have been the one who started the fire.”

“That is a lie.”

“Is it? She was seen in the area where the fire started only moments earlier, is known to be a smoker and has been described by others as somewhat suspicious.”

“None of this proves anything.”

“No, it doesn’t. That is why I have not passed this information on to the federal investigators, and why I do not intend to unless you provide me with no alternative. I would hate to think what an accusation of this kind would do to your family, be it substantiated or otherwise.” Norris opened a lacquered wooden box that sat on the table beside him and removed a cigar. He clipped the tip and lit it, taking a tentative puff.

“This is not right,” Salvo said, his mouth dry.

“I am afraid I have no other choice. Let me say, for the record, that your contract is not being renewed because of the poor quality of your act. The fire has had no bearing on this decision. That is for the record. Off the record, let me tell you the following: As long as I am head of the Fisher-Fielding Circus Company, no Ursari will set foot under a roof my show is in, let alone perform
in one. My cousin was a fool to get involved with your kind, and I will see no more harm come to my interests as a result of you.”

Salvo was speechless. He stood there, unable to move, unable to speak.

“Our business here is completed. Please be off the lot in a maximum of twenty-four hours. Keep in mind that you are being watched closely. Good day.” Norris rose from his chair, motioning towards the door.

As Salvo walked back to his railcar, he tried to understand what had just happened. He knew that Anna had been right, that Norris was out to ruin them. But he didn’t know what to make of Norris’s accusation that Etel had started the fire.

What he remembered frightened him. Etel had been late for that performance. And she had been at the women’s outhouse, where the fire had apparently started. And how many times had he seen Etel throw a cigarette onto the ground? A sickening feeling turned in his stomach. He knew that if Etel had started the fire, it would have been on purpose. He knew that with the rapt attention she always paid to fire there was no room for accident.

Still, he did not believe she would be capable of arson. She would not have done such a despicable thing, he told himself. She had no reason to. But a tiny part of him was not sure. A fragment admitted that it was possible that his own sister had burned the Fisher-Fielding big top to the ground.

He needed to talk to Anna. She would know what to do. He quickened his pace and leapt up the three steps into their railcar. Inside, Etel and András sat huddled around Anna. Anna was clutching a piece of paper, and her eyes were wet and red.

“What is wrong?” he asked, wondering if they knew his news already.

Anna rushed to him, tears flowing freely.

“Her father is dead,” András said softly.

Salvo comforted her as best he could, but he had a hard time remaining focused on his task. Eventually, he released her and took András by the arm, ushering him outside. “I will be only a moment,” he said. Anna nodded.

“She seems very upset over a man who disowned her,” András said when they were outside.

“She loved him,” Salvo answered. He tried to think of a way to tell András what had happened, what had been said. He could think of no way to soften the blow. “We have been fired.” The words seemed alien and incomprehensible.

András said nothing. The sentence simply did not register.

“Did you hear me?”

“Yes. We are fired.” András kicked lightly at the ground.

“They say the act is no good.”

András shook his head. “How can they say that?”

“There is more,” Salvo said.

“The act is good, no matter what Norris Fisher-Fielding says.” András remembered the crowds, how they had cheered for them. He knew there was nothing wrong with the act. They would find work elsewhere.

Salvo exhaled sharply. “They say Etel may have started the fire.”

András’s jaw clenched, his face hardening. “Who says that?”

“Norris Fisher-Fielding, for one. Is it true?” Salvo’s voice was tentative. He did not know if he could bear the question’s answer.

András grabbed Salvo by his shirt. His face was inches from Salvo’s. “Do not ask me that. She is our sister. She would do no kind of thing. How do you even think to ask if she would?” He could feel the blood pounding in his temples.

“I’m sorry.” And he was. But he had to ask. There had been no choice.