Elefant

But what was it?

A miracle? A sign? Something mystical?

Schoch had never been a religious man, but before his downfall he’d certainly believed in the existence of something that transcended his powers of perception and imagination. A higher reality, and maybe a higher power too.

But like everything else, this belief had crumbled with his downfall. And hadn’t made its presence felt in all the years since.

Until today. For the fact that this fabulous creature from another world, maybe even another dimension, had chosen to reveal itself to him – him! – must have a significance.

Schoch now did something he hadn’t done since childhood: he crossed himself. But this form of homage seemed inappropriate given the significance of the revelation and the fact that it might be an Asian elephant before him, so he put the palms of his hands together in front of his beard and gave a deep Thai-style bow.

The animal felt around on the ground with its trunk.

‘Hungry?’ Schoch asked. He picked up a few leaves and held them out to the elephant.

Hesitantly, and with its trunk outstretched, the creature inched closer. It grabbed hold of the leaves, lowered its wedge-shaped jaw and stuffed them in its mouth. Schoch’s hand brushed the tip of the trunk, which felt soft and silky.

The elephant raised its trunk, indicating that it wanted more.

Schoch put on his shoes. ‘Stay here,’ he ordered. ‘I’ll fetch you some more.’ He pushed past the bushes and got to his feet.

The clouds hung low and the river was still brown and flowing rapidly. But at least it wasn’t raining. Schoch went over to the old willow growing a little way downstream and broke off a few branches. Then he pulled up some clumps of grass and a bunch of buttercups that were growing just above the high water level.

With this harvest he struggled back up the embankment and crept into his cave.

His visitor, still standing in the same place, shot out its trunk when it saw the food.

Schoch fed the little animal with fascination and patience. It was so hungry that he had to go out twice for more. With his penknife he also cut off the lower third of a plastic bottle, filled it with water from the river and watched the elephant sink its trunk in, suck up the water and empty it into its mouth.

Thus the morning passed without Schoch having eaten or drunk anything.

His cheap plastic watch showed 2 p.m. when his little guest went for a lie-down. Schoch thought this was a good idea and lay down beside it.

When he awoke the mini elephant was on its side in a different spot. Its stomach was rising and falling rapidly and its trunk was being thrust out and curled up at irregular intervals. On the ground everywhere were puddles of runny excrement.

Schoch gently laid a hand on the little body as if it were the forehead of a feverish child. It didn’t react. He carefully took hold of the elephant and placed it upright. It stood there, legs splayed, ears and trunk drooping, and beneath its tail the contents of its bowels gushed out, as thin as water. The little creature lay back down even before it had finished. In fact it was more like falling down than lying down.

Drink lots of fluids when you’ve got diarrhoea, Schoch thought. He took an empty bottle and went back down the embankment. It was much easier now; after twenty hours without any alcohol he was quite steady on his feet again.

But he was still panting heavily when he entered his cave with the full bottle. The tiny, pink, magical creature now lay there peacefully, its chest no longer rising and falling and the trunk not twisting any more, but resting limply beside its front legs.

Schoch panicked. ‘You’re not going to die on me,’ he muttered. ‘You’re not going to die on me.’

He shook out the contents of his holdall, wrapped the droopy animal in the towel with the Nivea logo and placed it inside the holdall. Then he hung this over his shoulder and left.

16

Eastern Switzerland

6 June 2013

A director is only ever as important as the business they preside over. And unfortunately Circus Pellegrini wasn’t as important as it once had been.

That’s why most of the employees and all the artists who worked for Carlo P. Pellegrini just called him Carlo. Only those veterans of the circus who’d been taken on by his father called him ‘Herr Direktor’.

Back then Pellegrini was still one of the three most important circuses in the country. It played the same venues as the national circus and although its gala premieres may have been rather middle-class events, they were still part of the social calendar.

Its decline began right after the sudden death of Pellegrini’s father, Paolo, at fifty-two. He was the victim of a lion attack, or rather, the victim of the abrupt end of an affair between the animal trainer de Groot and a Chinese trapeze artist, who on the orders of her father, the head of the troupe, had to submit to family discipline and terminate the relationship.

De Groot, an alcoholic who’d stayed dry for fifteen years, suffered a relapse and was confronted by Carlo’s father at a training session where he was clearly drunk. The circus director marched into the cage as he’d often done before – he’d worked with lions himself in the past – and gave de Groot a piece of his mind. Pellegrini ordered him to take the lions back to their cages and sleep off his inebriation.

Tarzan, the star of the lion routine, came to his boss’s aid and attacked Paolo Pellegrini.

He died on the spot.

Carlo had just turned thirty and was unprepared for the role of circus director. His dream was to become a musician, but his plans had been thwarted by his sister Melanie. She had been an enthusiastic circus child and they were agreed that when the time came for the handover she’d become the first female circus director in the country. While he, Carlo, would continue the circus lifestyle, but on tour with a rock band.

Then, however, his sister fell in love with the magician and son of an American circus family, and followed him to the States. Which meant Carlo had no choice but to take over his father’s role.

He might have enjoyed more success if it hadn’t been for his father’s widow. Following the death of Carlo’s mother, Paolo had got married again to Alena, a Russian circus princess who was as old as his son. Although he’d bequeathed the circus to whichever child was going to continue it, he’d set aside a generous pension for his widow, which placed a major burden on the circus budget. Moreover, because she no longer did her horse routine, for which she’d once won a prize, Carlo had to hire an external artiste as a replacement.

He’d never got on with her even while his father was alive, but afterwards open hostility broke out between them. She constantly interfered in the management of the circus, undermined the little authority he had and kept causing upheaval in the team by embarking on affairs with the artistes. Carlo was delighted when she stayed on after a holiday to Ibiza and only returned sporadically. Sporadically, but always unexpectedly.

In his will, Carlo’s father had guaranteed her the right of abode for the rest of her life, which meant that the circus always had to shunt around her luxury caravan.

Another problem was that Carlo Pellegrini had no affinity with animals. He was a poor rider, he’d never been able to overcome his fear of horses and he had zero understanding of them. Losing Alena’s equestrian skills left him in a fix, and he ended up hiring rather mediocre acts twice in succession.

After the tragedy with his father he struck large carnivores from the programme, replacing them with pigs, dogs, goats and other pets in acts that were amusing rather than striking and which could have been entertaining if he’d had a better feel for the routines. The same was true of his choice of artistes. He lacked sufficient professional knowledge or interest to spot the really exceptional artistes. And he couldn’t afford those with the best reputations in the circus world, a problem that worsened each year.

Soon this was even the case at the top venues in the country. He had to make do with the second- or sometimes third-best choice.

The last remaining showpieces of Circus Pellegrini were its Indian elephants. Four cows and an adolescent bull. They’d been the pride of Carlo’s father, who was known as an eminent elephant trainer. After his death Carlo took over the elephant act, even though he didn’t have a clue about these animals either.

That this was at all possible was down to Kaung, his Burmese oozie. Oozie, or neck rider, was the name given over there to elephant keepers.

It was Kaung who’d been training and looking after the elephants for years and who led them around the edge of the ring at every performance. Even Paolo Pellegrini’s act with the elephants had been a bit of a sham. He pretended that the grey giants were obeying him, when in fact they only listened to Kaung.

Keeping the elephants was a costly affair. A fully grown animal ate 200 kilograms of fresh twigs, hay, leaves, fruit and vegetables per day. A year after he’d taken over the circus, Pellegrini was determined to sell them. And he would have done if it hadn’t been for Kaung, who one day came up with the idea of submitting the cows to an international breeding programme. He knew that during the pregnancy a client would pay for feed, veterinary services and care, and then hand over a wad of money after the birth.

Pellegrini was convinced. He applied to a programme that worked with artificial insemination. Three of his cows had already produced babies using this method and prospects were good that this part of his business, at least, would continue to prosper. The clients were most satisfied. The elephants were healthy and so well trained that they patiently allowed the procedure to be carried out.

‘Carlo!’ called the woman who looked after the ticket sales, book-keeping, correspondence, telephone and all the other administrative tasks. ‘That Roux guy is here!’

She’d opened the door to his caravan without knocking, pointing behind to a squat man with shaven hair, carrying an open umbrella and a briefcase.

‘Show him in, he’s got an appointment,’ he said gruffly, watching as she – also holding an umbrella – went back over to Roux and indicated the caravan.

17