In Search of Goliathus Hercules (37 page)

the pain.

“Noooo!”

That wasn’t his voice—it was Mrs. Black’s. Henri opened his eyes and to his horror, skewered on the pin, wings wide open, was Prince! Mrs. Black dropped the pin and with it, Prince. She leaped up and, with the abnormal speed he had witnessed once before, raced from the room.

Henri quickly sat up. Prince writhed on the ground.

“Prince! Prince! Oh! I’m going to pull that pin out!” cried Henri, tears streaming down his face. Grasping hold of the pin’s pearl head, he pulled it as gently as he could out of the beetle’s body.

“I told you to get out of here! Why didn’t you go? You should have protected yourself!” shouted Henri in despair.

Prince heaved and gasped for breath. “I couldn’t let her kill you, Henri. I couldn’t.” He had sacrificed himself to save Henri.

“It’s going to be OK. You’re going to be fine,” said Henri unconvincingly.

“Henri, I don’t have much time left. I need to tell you something.” Prince stopped, caught his breath and continued, “I have been to England before. London was my home. I have been to the house you grew up in.”

“What? How?” spluttered Henri.

“Henri,” said Prince. “I am your father.”

S
uddenly everything made sense—the photographs left in the village, Prince’s willingness to leave the jungle, his knowledge of the English landscape, and his keen interest in everything to do with Henri.

“Why did you attack me in the hotel room?” whispered Henri. Rivulets of tears poured down his cheeks.

“I was upset that you frightened your mother…my wife, when you showed her what you are becoming,” panted Prince. He let out a gasp of great pain but continued. “I was distressed that you thought that I had just up and left you. I never wanted to do that. This sickness, this disease, whatever it is, it controls you…” His voice was getting weaker.

“Father, Father!” Henri picked up the beetle so he could hear him better.

“Tell your mother I love her. I love you, Henri,” and with a last wheezy breath, Prince went still.

Gently, Henri laid him on the floor and curled up beside the beetle he now knew to be his father. The insects of the circus fluttered and hopped about them.

“Henri! Henri! Are you all right?”

But he did not answer them. The floor was cold, but Henri didn’t care. Mrs. Black might return, but he could not bring himself to do anything. He cried and eventually fell into a tormented and restless sleep.

“Henri! Henri! What happened?” exclaimed Robin. It was morning.

And then Robin saw Prince.

“Prince! Prince, is he…is he dead?” she asked.

Henri sat up. He picked up the body of his father and cradled it in his hands. He nodded and felt the tears pricking his eyes again. Stiffly he stood and placed Prince on the table among the disheveled colored papers, his last picture of the house torn in two. Henri picked up the pieces and laid them side-by-side to form the scene.

Henri opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. They could hear the tropical honeybees buzzing behind him. It was Maestro Antonio who thought to turn on the hearing-aid machine.

“Blaaack!” the bees buzzed.

“She’s alive,” whispered Maestro Antonio.

“She meant to kill Henri!” buzzed the bees in unison.

Everyone gasped. Robin looked on the ground and saw the pearl-headed hatpin. She picked it up and placed it on the table.

“But Prince threw himself in the way. She killed him!” the bees screamed, and all the insects in the circus began to wail. Their cries were so loud that Maestro Antonio turned off the hearing-aid machine, but there was still a dull roar.

“Oh, Henri!” Robin threw her arms around him.

“Would you like to go your mother’s house, Henri?” asked Maestro Antonio.

Henri nodded. He pulled himself away from Robin. He walked to the backstage area, where he found a lidded cardboard box, and returned. Then he picked up some of the red paper from the table and lined the bottom of the box. Robin understood what he was doing. She took off the silk scarf she was wearing, folded it, and neatly placed it in the box. Henri picked up Prince’s body and gently laid him on top of the scarf. Then he picked up the torn picture of the house, placed it beside the body, and put the lid back on.

At his mother’s house, Henri walked to his old room without a word. He put the box down on his bedside table and crawled into his bed. Robin and Henri’s mother followed him into the room.

“Henri, are you sick?” asked his mother worriedly. She came to the bedside and automatically put her hand to his forehead.

“You don’t feel hot,” she said. She looked at Robin.

“There’s been an accident,” said Robin.

Henri glared at her.

“Actually, not an accident, really,” stuttered Robin “It was Mrs. Black. She…murdered Prince.” Robin pointed to the box.

His mother was in tears as she sat down on the bed and drew Henri toward her. He buried his face in her dress and hugged her back. Robin edged her way out of the room to make tea.

Some hours later Maestro Antonio and Billy arrived with Professor Young. How is he?” whispered Billy.

“He hasn’t spoken a word yet. I’m really worried,” replied Robin. “I’ll let him know you’ve arrived.”

A few minutes later, everyone sat at the dining room table. When Henri entered the room, he was reminded of a time before the expedition when they had sat around that very table bursting with confidence and enthusiasm. They had poured over maps of British Malaya and plotted their journey. But now the adventure was over, and all Henri felt was a deep emptiness. Instead of maps, there sat a cardboard box with a lifeless body inside.

Maestro Antonio spoke up.

“We closed the show, packed up all the insects, and took them back to the hotel. The professor dropped by as we were packing, so I sent him with a message to the chairman of the British Entomological Society,” he said. “We thought it best not to reveal the true circumstances of Prince’s passing. I said that the cooler climate didn’t suit his constitution. The chairman will notify the newspapers.”

“He was most distressed upon reading the letter,” said Professor Young, dabbing at his own eyes with his handkerchief. “He intends to call upon you to express his condolences. Ah! So sad! Prince and I had so much more to discuss.”

Henri looked down and took a sip of tea. Then he put down his cup, stood up, and opened the box. From it he withdrew the pieces of the picture Prince had been working on. He quickly replaced the lid.

Henri cleared his throat and finally spoke. His voice sounded raspy as he said, “You don’t know everything. Perhaps I should have told you first, Mother, but everyone here is my friend. More than that, everyone here has been my family. Robin, Billy, Tony, you have put your lives at risk many times over to help me find
Goliathus hercules
and my father.” He laid out the pieces of Prince’s picture to form the scene.

“Mother, last night Prince was working on this picture. Take a look.”

Henri’s mother leaned over and peered at it.

“Why, it looks like our old house! The one we lived in before George left for Malaya. How would Prince know what our house looked like?” she asked.

Henri stared at his mother, willing her to make the connection, but she looked at him blankly.

“You know how you said so many of Prince’s pictures reminded you of places you had been?”

“Well, yes. I did notice that,” she said.

“Mother, look at me. What am I becoming?” commanded Henri.

She looked at him. He could tell she was confused.

“You’re…you’re turning into an insect, Henri.”

He nodded.

It was Billy who made the connection first.

“Wait a minute! Henri, are you saying that Prince was your father?” Billy said, standing.

“Yes,” said Henri. “He told me before he died.”

Henri’s mother, tears streaming from her already red eyes, grabbed Henri’s hand.

“I think I shall lie down,” she said. Henri helped her to her room.

“I wonder why he didn’t just tell us in the first place?” asked Billy. They all sat, pondering the question. Would Henri’s father be alive now if they had known?

“Maybe he was ashamed,” suggested Robin. “Perhaps he would have preferred if Henri and his mother thought he had died in the jungle.”

“I guess we’ll never know,” said Maestro Antonio. “Do you think Agatha Black knew who he was?”

“Maybe she did,” said Billy. “One thing is for certain though, she didn’t mean to kill him. She intended to finish off Henri.”

“I don’t understand,” said Robin. “Whether or not she knew that Prince was Henri’s father, why would she want him? We received the fame and rewards for capturing
Goliathus hercules
, so there would be none for her. If she did know it was him, what was her plan? Kidnapping him? Demanding a ransom?”

“I believe I know,” said Henri, who had returned and stood in the doorway. “She said she had ‘greater plans’ for Prince than I could ever imagine, and that he would do her bidding.”

They all sat quietly thinking about everything that had transpired. At last Henri broke the silence. “There’s something else I want to tell you,” he said. “Last night, I…I flew!”

“Really! How exciting!” said Professor Young, who quickly realized that perhaps that was not the right sentiment. “I mean, how interesting.”

Henri finally smiled. “Yes, professor, you’re right.” He removed his shirt and turned his back to his friends to concentrate. He willed his wings to open, and they did!

“Wow!” said Billy.

“Oh!” said Robin.

Henri’s wings stretched out about an arm’s length in either direction. They were transparent, which is why no one had noticed them before, but now that they were extended, the group saw there were glints of iridescent sparkles.

“They’re beautiful, Henri,” said Robin.

“Boys don’t want to be beautiful, Robin!” declared Billy.

“I didn’t say Henri was beautiful. I said his wings were,” she retorted.

“What I find interesting is that your father joined
Goliathus hercules
, but you seem to be changing into something else entirely,” remarked Professor Young. “You’re a little bit grasshopper, a bit ant, and another part beetle. A hybrid of sorts!”