“And the Lord said unto these followers of Satan, ye defiled whores of Babylon, I shalt cast out the sinners, I shalt pour down torrents of rain, hailstones, and burning sulfur and they shalt know I am the Lord thy God!”
“Damned Bible thumpers,” Max said darkly as he buttoned Mae into her lobster costume and arranged the seaweed circlet on her head. “Don’t even quote it right.”
She watched the preacher and his mob through a chink in the sideshow booth, uneasy yet fascinated. But despite the preacher’s ranting and dire warnings, the afternoon show had gone off without a hitch, the midway and the tents packed out, the populace of Ashton happy to divide their patronage between two circuses. The midway continued to offer rides and high-priced junk and carnival fare during the break between shows, while North rounded up the elephants to take them to the river for a much needed drink and cooling down.
The smaller elephants were skittish enough being youngsters, North having to nudge them lightly with the ankus to remind them to behave. Madelaine followed them, docile and patient, ignoring the gawking crowd shoving and jostling for a better view. The afternoon had grown hotter, the humidity stifling. Half the circus company had decided on a swim as well to cool off before the evening performance, forming a mini parade down to the water. A few of the acrobats turned cartwheels and flip-flap handsprings, while Max and Mae and Eric followed Madelaine in the small pony cart, well hidden. They’d find a more secluded spot upstream. The crowd would be too fascinated by the elephants drinking, spraying each other, rolling in the river, to notice them. When they weren’t in their costumes and on display, Mae knew, they might as well have been invisible.
The muddy road down to the river was chock-a-block, women in fancy hats wielding umbrellas to shove their way through gangs of workmen in dirty overalls, Negro farm hands elbowing fat shopkeepers and bankers, children riding on their fathers’ shoulders. Everyone had come to gawp and gape and stare, providing as much a sideshow for the circus company as it was for the spectators.
Eric and Max sat in the rear of the pony wagon, mopping their sweating foreheads while Mae peeped through the wooden doors just behind the driver. She saw the mayor and his family, decked out in their Sunday best, the smallest of his boys trying hard to tempt Madelaine with a peanut held straight out in his chubby hand while his sisters recoiled, squealing in real or pretend fright. To the boy’s delight, the elephant obligingly took the peanut from him, the tip of her trunk as nimble as fingers.
She saw the preacher and his band of female parishioners, a black scarecrow surrounded by scrawny white chickens, still brandishing a Bible over his head, shouting hoarsely. “No true Christian can follow Our Lord Jesus Christ and then be found in a circus, that den of iniquity, wicked purveyors of drinking and dancing, gambling and adultery!” White flecks foamed in the corners of his mouth, while the women around him rolled their eyes in ecstasy.
She saw a man step out from among the worshipers, a half-eaten apple in his hand, the smoke from a lit cigar dangling from his mouth making him squint. She saw him tease Madelaine with the apple, waving it just out of her reach, until she stretched out her trunk eagerly, her mouth opening in anticipation. She saw him grin, switch the apple for his cigar, and toss it into the elephant’s mouth. And laugh.
For a moment, Mae felt the earth hesitate, everything gone still. Then Madelaine screamed, not her normal trumpeting but a cry of pain so deep Mae felt as if her own lungs were on fire. The elephant backed up, swinging her head frantically from side to side, ears flapping. The driver stood and swung his whip at the huge haunches pushing the pony to one side, then jumped off as Madelaine rammed into the wagon, tilting it dangerously. It teetered for a stomach-wrenching moment, then came down hard enough for a wheel to come off and throw Mae through the doors onto the now-empty driver’s seat.
Mae saw Madelaine spit out the cigar, now chewed into shreds, then whack her trunk hard against the man who had fed it to her. The impact threw him several yards, where he landed on his back. Stunned, he was struggling onto his elbows as Madelaine bore down on him, his eyes going wide just before she lifted one massive foot and slammed it onto his head. His skull exploded like a ripe watermelon, bloody brains squirting out in a grisly pulp.
The crowd screamed and ran, barging into one another mindlessly, slipping in the mud. The four young elephants bolted in the confusion, knocking North over as well. An old man, no shirt under his coveralls, white beard stained with tobacco juice, fired a shotgun into the air. As the crowd split away from him in panic as well, he pumped the shotgun and fired it again, this time into Madelaine’s side. She trumpeted, more startled than hurt, lashing out blindly with her trunk, turning around in a circle, mashing the dead body underfoot even further. North had staggered back upright and spotted Mae climbing down out of the wagon toward them.
“Hey, Rube!” he shouted, nearly unheard over the din of the crowd. Instantly, Max and Eric vaulted from the wagon; ride jockeys and riggers and roustabouts alike plowed into the mob, fists flailing. Mae stumbled across the rutted road to throw her arms around Madelaine’s trunk, and felt the elephant wrap it around her so tightly she nearly couldn’t breathe. Blood trickled from the bullet wounds in the elephant’s thick hide, dripping onto Mae’s arms and head. She could feel Madelaine trembling.
“My God, it’s killing her, too!” someone shouted. “Kill the elephant!”
“Round me at twilight come stealing,” Mae started to sing, breathless with fear, stroking the elephant’s trunk. “Shadows of days that are gone. ”
Madelaine exhaled, like a huge sigh from a thundercloud, then lowered her head, her trunk loosening. “Dreams of the old days revealing. ” The elephant stood still, then gently began to rock in time with Mae’s song. “Mem’ries of love’s golden dawn. ”
The Bishop pushed his way through the brawling crowd, his top hat nearly crushed on his head, stopped, and exchanged a look with Mae. She kept singing, low and steady, as the Bishop took it in, all of it, the three of them as isolated in the midst of the riot as had they been in the big top spotlit by banjo lights.
“Kill the elephant! Kill the elephant!” Mae saw the preacher, his black frock flapping around him like crow’s wings as he pumped his arms, the chanting growing louder in anger, his face contorted with rage and glee.
North stumbled into the charmed circle, nose bleeding, knuckles raw, but a glint of wild joy in his eyes that faded as soon as he saw the Bishop.
“Get the chains on her, now,” the Bishop ordered sharply.
Madelaine made no protest as North wrapped foot chains around back legs. “Keep singin’ to her, Mae,” he said.
“Childhood days, wild wood days, among the birds and bees. ”
Madelaine allowed North to chain both her front feet as well, even holding up one leg helpfully to make it easier for him to slip the shackle on, her foot still stained with brains and blood. A cheer went up from the crowd as four uniformed policemen with batons pushed their way through to where Madelaine stood submissively, her trunk now resting limply around Mae’s shoulders, sensitive nostrils blowing hot on her neck.
“Get away from there, miss,” one of them shouted at her in alarm.
She glared back at him, and held onto Madelaine’s trunk, not caring that her deformed hands were in plain view. “You left me alone, but still you’re my own,” she kept singing. “In my beautiful memories.”