An hour later, the lions were still pacing round in circles in the big cage. Wolfgang wanted to make them rehearse to keep them occupied, but did not feel he should get too close to them. They were not listening to him. He was afraid they would attack him. He had hidden the sheep from them and now they would not trust him. They might even decide to kill him. He did not know what vision of horror would be unleashed if his wild cats no longer obeyed him. When wild cats deny the power of their master, they rebel. They would try to escape, but if they succeeded, they would make this their territory; they would rush down into the valley and find the farms with all that they contained – pigs, chickens, rabbits, women and children. The old people would barely count as prey. The men not being there and the women not bearing arms would mean that the lions would be masters of everything. The lion tamer understood that he would have to be much more vigilant now, that he would have to take great care not to be killed. He had to stay alive so that all the people down below could stay alive too.

To reaffirm his power, that evening he doubled the rations. He would have to feed them generously for several days, bringing them no less than twenty kilos of flesh each. He would feed them so that their stomachs were distended; he would stuff them full until they forgot about the sheep and cows. From this evening onwards, there would have to be plenty of raw meat and the trap would have to provide ten times as much food, otherwise he would be eaten.

August 2017

August 2017

By now they really had taken ownership of the place. Franck could feel it in the seamless way everything was coming together in the house. Lise had found her bearings and they had each, naturally, developed their own habits. There’s always a moment when you start to feel at home in the house or room you’re renting.

That evening was perfect, the music pleasant. The setting sun suffused the sky with red, promising rain tomorrow – or was it a sign that it would be a nice day? Franck couldn’t remember. The old Telefunken radio was playing smooth jazz. You still couldn’t change the station or the frequency, but every time Lise or Franck turned it back on, the radio would be playing music that went perfectly with the atmosphere. It was a bit like the radio was deciding for itself what was appropriate, as the random selection of music always seemed to fit the moment. The device was old, but the sound was good; you just had to make sure not to move the big collapsible aerial or it would crackle.