In Search of Goliathus Hercules (36 page)

Billy came out with a slingshot. Supplied with ammunition of red grapes, he shot them quickly and randomly up into the air. Prince took flight from the maestro’s shoulder. Zooming above the audience’s heads, he easily skewered the grapes on his horns. Once Prince had a grape, he took aim, tossing it off his horn and into the open mouth of Maestro Antonio, who had sat down on a chair and put his head back to catch it.

“Delicious!” he declared. The audience roared in delight.

“And now, ladies and gentlemen, for our grand finale! A king should not only appreciate the arts but also practice art himself, shouldn’t he? Insects build hives of wax, nests of paper, and enormous underground cities. Perhaps we humans have not always appreciated their creativity and their efforts, but I believe you will be truly impressed at the virtuoso talent of Prince! Please proceed, Your Highness,” said Maestro Antonio with a low bow toward Prince, who had landed on the wooden table among the stacks of colored paper.

Robin, who now stood behind the table, picked up a long, narrow sheet of pink paper and folded it in half many times over. Then she placed it in front of Prince. Suddenly there was a great flurry of little pieces of paper in the air as Prince snipped, poked and chopped at it. When he was finished, he stepped back. Robin picked up the paper and, with a wave, unfolded it to reveal a chain of delicate paper dolls.

The audience cheered. People stood up and yelled “Bravo! Bravo!” and “Encore!”

Robin placed another folded piece of paper in front of Prince, and again he quickly snipped. This time, he had made a lacy snowflake. The audience loved it and called for more and more. Finally, after Prince had cut a dozen patterns and creatures out of the paper, Maestro Antonio stepped forward.

“Is he not a true artist? In fact, is he not the most noble, the most regal, and the most remarkable creature you have ever seen?”

The audience rose to their feet for a standing ovation.

As Robin handed out the paper cutouts to the children in the audience, Maestro Antonio concluded by saying: “It has been our great pleasure to present this scientific and educational spectacle to you this evening. As you depart I remind you to be kind to our six-legged friends. A beetle could be someone’s mother and an ant could be—well—someone’s aunt. Insects contribute to our lives in ways you may not have considered. I ask that the next time you go to swat a fly or stomp on an anthill, you pause and think of what you have learned here tonight. We should treat all creatures, be they big or small, in the manner we would wish to be treated ourselves. Good night and thank you!”

D
uring the next two months, the insect circus performed daily. Maestro Antonio had decided once again to change the name of the show.

“We’ll call it Secret Lives: Mysteries of the Six-Legged World Revealed,” he announced. “I think it better reflects our educational mission.”

Everyone, including Prince, agreed to the name. An insect had not been so involved in the show since the late Sophia the flea. There had been no further outbursts or acts of aggression from the warrior insect. Nor had there been any sign of Agatha Black. They supposed that a case of the jitters had caused Henri and Robin to imagine they’d seen her that day when they were first welcomed back to London.

As far as the public knew, Henri was convalescing from a variety of tropical diseases, each more horrible than the last. In reality he was always backstage working with the performers. In between shows, Henri worked on writing his account of the expedition, as well planning a butterfly sanctuary the queen had commissioned.

Henri’s mother and Professor Young were regular visitors at the Natural History Museum’s library, where they scoured obscure books and articles, hoping to find a clue to Henri’s mysterious “illness,” as they referred to it. They had yet to find an answer, but as Henri’s mother said, “As long as there are still books to be read, we have hope!”

When Henri’s mother came for her daily visit, Prince would fly or scurry toward her, like a dog eagerly greeting its master. She had recovered from her fright and had grown somewhat accustomed to his landing on her shoulder. She even learned a little bit of insect.

With his latest cut-paper creation clutched between his pinchers, Prince would present it to Henri’s mother. He would insist that Henri translate as he described his artwork. Although no one quite understood why, Prince clearly adored Henri’s mother. In turn, she was touched by his attention.

“I think they just keep getting better and better. Look at this a butterfly. It’s wonderful, Prince,” said Henri’s mother, smiling at the beetle. “It’s funny. There’s something familiar about these scenes. I look at them and they remind me of places where I’ve lived and traveled. They’re beautiful.”

After the day’s last show, Robin, Billy, and Maestro Antonio helped Henri feed the insects, and then they returned to the hotel. Henri, however, preferred to spend the night in the exhibition hall with the circus insects. He seemed to be coming more and more nocturnal in his habits. Sometimes it was a real chore to stay awake in the day, but at night he felt alert and more alive. Back at the hotel, it was very dull to sit alone in his room, wide awake. At the circus, there were plenty of insects stirring and many were quite chatty.

Another reason Henri liked to stay at night was that it gave him a chance to talk at length with Prince, who was no longer locked in his cage because he’d proven himself trustworthy. Now Henri sat down by the table where Prince was perched and took off his jacket and his shirt. It was time to relax. As usual, Prince was cutting out a picture. Henri leaned over to look at it. This time the picture was of a tree and a house and what appeared to be two people in front of the house, a couple embracing.

“I’ve seen that house before,” said Henri. “It looks exactly like our old house here in London! The house I grew up in!”

Prince said nothing.

“Prince? How do you know that house?”

Finally, Prince replied. “I’m sure there are many houses like it. I saw a picture of it in the newspaper.”

“Yes, of course. Very strange. Very strange, indeed,” said Henri, as much to himself as the beetle.

Suddenly Henri was struck with a thought. “You know, I’ve been wondering. A lot of your pictures are of people and children. How do you know so much about them? You’ve never seen a child fly a kite or play ball,” he pointed out.

“How do you know I haven’t?” asked Prince. “I told you a long time ago that I had some experience with two-legs.”

Henri kept thinking. “Wait a minute! I remember another picture you cut of the birds; they were all British birds: robins, finches—not tropical ones. I suppose you’re going to tell me that you saw those in the newspaper too!” he said. He stood up suddenly. “Prince, it’s time you told me the truth! You’ve been to England before!”

Just then, there was a great deal of coughing and spluttering. “Henri, Henri! I’m dying of thirst! I need some water!”

It was one of the huge tropical honeybees they had brought back from Malaya. In fact, the expedition party had brought back a whole hive. The bees’ ominous buzzing accompanied Prince’s dramatic opening descent in the show.

“All right, all right,” Henri replied. “Sorry we forgot it earlier. Prince, you stay here while I get the water. Promise me you won’t go anywhere! We are going to finish this conversation.”

“I promise,” said Prince quietly.

Henri picked up a bowl and headed toward the large and picturesque water fountain in the middle of the huge exhibition hall. It was dark, but it made no difference to Henri. His night vision was excellent now. Although there were no people in the hall, it was far from silent. Echoing off the walls, Henri heard the calls of the monkeys in Carl Hagenbeck’s monkey paradise exhibit. There was squawking and sniffling from various other creatures that Henri couldn’t fully identify, perhaps an anteater or a wallaby. All sorts of strange animals had been gathered specially for the exposition. Near the fountain, a few pigeons still strutted about, hooting.

Henri dipped the bowl into the fountain and started back. He was halfway there when a horrible screech rang out through the hall. Henri dropped the water bowl and ran toward the insect circus room. He could hear a cacophony of insect cries, all in the most agitated state of alarm.

As he crossed the threshold, a horrific sight met his eyes. There stood Mrs. Black.

She leaned over the wooden table. Her mouth was set in the smile that haunted his dreams, but her appearance was far worse than any of his nightmares could have prepared him for. Her face was terribly disfigured by a diagonal scar across her face—a deep, angry red gouge that ran from just above her right eye down to the left side of her mouth. For a moment Henri forgot to breathe.

Then he heard the sound of Prince’s pinchers. Henri looked down and saw that Mrs. Black wore a falconer’s glove, and in her hand, she held Prince! Gnashing and thrashing in a tremendous effort to escape, the beetle fought with all his might.

Henri did not think. He simply launched himself into the air.

To his complete surprise, a set of wings sprang from his back, and in a single leap he was upon his nemesis. The old sick feeling rose in his stomach, and in an instant he spat venom into the face of his sworn enemy. She cried out and the two crashed to the floor.

In the fall, Mrs. Black loosened her grip and Prince freed himself. Seeing Prince take flight, Henri yelled, “Get out of here! Stay away from her!”

On the floor, Henri struggled to hold down Mrs. Black, but she was far larger and heavier than he. In a flash, she had reversed their positions. Using her weight, she easily pinned him to the floor. She wiped the acidic venom from her face with the sleeve of her dress and then withdrew from her hair the long, sharp pin that Henri had seen in Great Aunt Georgie’s parlor so long ago. Now she held it in a threatening manner just above Henri’s heart!

“I wasn’t expecting you to be here! You always make everything difficult,” she panted.

Raising his head, Henri projected another shot of venom toward her face, but Mrs. Black anticipated it and moved her head in time.

She let out of a bark of laughter. “Now, now! That wasn’t very nice. There’s certainly no need to make a fuss. I have come for just one thing—the beetle. You’re going to let me take him, Mr. Bell,” she said in a matter of fact voice.

Prince circled in the air above them, unsure what to do. Clearly Mrs. Black held the advantage with Henri pinned to the floor and the deadly pin poised to stab at any moment.

“And why would I do that?” retorted Henri, still struggling. “He’s worthless to you. We are the ones who discovered him and brought him back. There will never be any glory for you!”

“It is disappointing that I was not successful,” responded Mrs. Black in a conversational tone. “But I have far greater plans for this bug than you can imagine! He is going to come with me… and he will do my bidding.”

“I don’t think he will!” gasped Henri, still wriggling, still looking for a way to free himself.

“You will make him, On-
ree
. I must admit you have control over six-legged pests. The same way I have control over—well, it doesn’t matter. You will make the bug work for me because if you don’t, I will reveal to the world just what you are! A freak! Don’t think that people haven’t noticed the change in you. They’re talking, they are wondering, and it would give me nothing but pleasure to reveal the truth! Perhaps I will be celebrated after all when I make the announcement! Maybe I’ll get to keep
you
in a cage as one of my pets!” Agatha Black threw back her head and laughed.

Enraged, Henri used every ounce of the strength he possessed and managed to free one of his arms. He quickly reached out and tried to snatch the hatpin from his enemy, but his hand, more of a claw now, was clumsy. He missed.

Startled, Mrs. Black stared down at him, her eyes narrowed. She growled, “I think I have changed my mind. I believe I’ve had quite enough of you, Mr. Bell!”

She raised her arm, took aim at Henri’s heart, and then plunged the pin downward. Henri closed his eyes and braced himself for