In Search of Goliathus Hercules (18 page)

The insect performers, Henri, and Maestro Antonio—all received a standing ovation. Everyone wanted to see the insects. If the performers had been humans, the spectators would have asked for autographs. Robin’s little sister, Olive, tugged at her mother’s sleeve and begged to have her very own dung beetle. Maestro Antonio was in deep discussion with Professor Young, who was explaining, “There is some debate as to which beetle is the strongest in the world. I would say that one could make a case for
Onthophagus taurus
, a type of dung beetle with two horns; however, others feel that the single horned
Trypoxylus dichotomus
is the true title holder.” Henri could see that the maestro had pulled out the notes Henri had provided him in preparation for the show and now he was adding more facts.

Robin and Billy pushed their way up to Henri. “Fantastic show!” said Robin, and she gave him a hug.

“Great! Really great!” said Billy.

“Thanks,” said Henri, but he felt low, like he felt on Christmas Day when there were no more presents to open. He felt like there was nothing to look forward to. Tomorrow the circus would split up. Robin and Billy would go to Florida, and he would be going to Mexico with the detestable Madame Noir. His mind flashed back to the mourning pin piercing his father’s picture. Once again he felt troubled. Just what was her connection to his father?

“Don’t look so sad. I know the circus and the sideshows are splitting up tomorrow,” said Robin as if she could read his mind. “But time will pass by quickly and we’ll see you in the spring!”

“That’s right,” said Billy. “Hey, what did the professor tell you? Does he know why you can speak to insects?”

“No,” said Henri casting his eyes downward. “He doesn’t know.” And then he thought of
Goliathus hercules
and what the professor had said:
You are just the man to capture and show him to the world!
Suddenly Henri was convinced of two things. First, this was
his
quest. He would be the one to find
Goliathus hercules.
Second, Madame Noir wanted to find the gigantic insect too. She expected Henri to lead her right to him. What else could all those insects and books on Southeast Asia mean? And somehow his father was mixed up in it all.

Henri looked back at Robin and Billy with a broad grin on his face, but his smile slowly vanished as he glanced beyond his friends, toward the back of the tent, and saw Madame Noir standing alone. She stared at Henri and then smiled, a smile like someone showing their teeth to the dentist. Henri went cold. He knew that smile. He was sure of it. Madame Noir turned and walked out of the tent.

It was so easy, really. The web was spun and the boy had walked right into the trap.

She needn’t go to Mexico with the rest of the sideshow folk. There was no point. Everything was moving along perfectly, and all she had to do now was bide her time. Madame Noir looked into the mirror and gave herself a smug, congratulatory smile. The boy’s independent spirit and his willingness to embark on an adventure all played perfectly into her hands. That foolish courage that others so much admired would be his downfall. Not only was Henri Bell setting out on his so-called quest to find
Goliathus hercules,
but he also entertained the childish notion that while others had failed, he alone would find his father.

Who knew where his father was? Who really cared? Certainly she did not! He had very conveniently disappeared with no “special” assistance from her. How perfect that he should vanish in the very place that she wished to lure the boy. She couldn’t have planned it better. Ugh! Love and sentimentality—qualities that make a person weak and vulnerable. Qualities that make it easy to manipulate a person. Suddenly the fortune-teller threw back her head and laughed. If anyone had seen her, they would have been quite shocked, for never had Madame Noir seemed in such good spirits.

It had been so easy to steal the picture of Henri’s father from his Aunt Georgiana, put it in the mourning pin, and then strategically place it in her insect collection for the boy to find. It had been an accident, an indiscretion, the night the children caught her “collecting” insects. She hadn’t meant for them to know, but it turned out to be a happy accident. After that episode, she didn’t need to be a fortune-teller to know that it was only a matter of time before Henri’s interest piqued and he would snoop around. That pesky, nosy girl, Robin, had goaded him into further investigation.

Upon seeing the insect stabbed with the mourning pin holding his father’s image, the boy must have been frantic with fear. Off he would run on his heroic mission. He would go alone, just as he had come to America and just as he had joined the flea circus. Away from familiar soil, the protection of family and of friends, he would be easy prey. She would follow Henri Bell, and he would lead her to
Goliathus hercules.

Right now, he was a useful tool, but dangerous too. Once she—not he—had captured the mysterious creature, she would decide what to do with the boy. He was the only threat to her grand plan, a plan in which her control would be so great that all creatures, man and beast, would bow down to her in fear and submission.

She raised her hands up to her head and, with a quick tug, lifted off the ridiculous wig. Madame Noir was no more. The person who stared back in the mirror had beady eyes, a hooked nose, and hair drawn back so tightly in a bun that it distorted her features. She grinned at her image, the kind of awkward, toothy smile you give a dentist inspecting your teeth. Out loud, she said, “Agatha, so good to see you.” She gave a short chuckle. “My work here is done. Now I must wait, watch, and be ready for the real adventure to begin!”

T
he sideshow performers had steadily traveled southward in search of warm weather. Now they were in Oaxaca, Mexico. To Henri’s surprise he was actually beginning to enjoy himself. This was due in large part to the absence of Madame Noir. She had completely vanished from the circus! On the day they were to leave for Mexico, her tent had disappeared and she hadn’t left a note.

Unfortunately Henri had no doubt that he would eventually meet her again. He had no idea of her motive but when at last he embarked upon the long journey to British Malaya—the last place his father was seen and the home of the mysterious insect
Goliathus hercules—
he suspected he would be reunited with the detestable Madame Noir, or Agatha Black, or whatever she would be calling herself by then. While he had no desire to confront her, Henri was anxious to get to Malaya. Unfortunately that was far easier said than done.

Awaiting him on a recent visit to the post office was an envelope postmarked London, England, and addressed to him in his mother’s handwriting. It was with bitter disappointment that Henri discovered that someone had tampered with his mail, completely removing the contents. The only thing Henri knew for sure was that his mother was home now. Was Father with her? His gut said no and if that was the case he must continue the search. But how was he to raise the funds for such a journey?

In the meantime the show had to go on! The first performance of the day was about to begin when he noticed that Sophia was nowhere in sight. This was unusual—normally she could be found on the circus stage insisting on a last-minute rehearsal. She appeared a short time later looking quite drowsy.

“Sorry, Henri! Overslept. I’m feeling tired these days.”

“Maybe it’s the heat?” suggested Henri. “Is there anything I can get you? Are you hungry?”

“No thanks, Henri. I’ll be fine. Just need to wake up, do a few leg springs, and get the old joints moving.” She did a few short jumps in the air and looked much more like her old self.

The day’s shows went smoothly. But at mealtime, she couldn’t be found.

“Where’s Sophia?” There was some murmuring, but no one knew. Henri called in a louder voice, “Sophia, where are you?”

A feeble voice called back. “I’m over here.” Sophia lay on her side by the edge of the stage. She did not get up. The other fleas bounded over to her.

“Put her on my hand,” commanded Henri. He lowered his hand, and the other fleas very gently lifted her up and placed her on his fingertip. “Maria?”

“Yes, Henri.”

“Please come alongside. I may need you.” Maria jumped up beside Sophia, gently holding her as Henri raised his hand out of the case. He walked over to his trunk, which was stowed under a bench and, with one hand, pulled it out. Henri opened the lid and retrieved an old matchbox. He pulled out a bit of cotton batting, placed it inside the matchbox to make a comfortable bed and then gently lowered the fleas down into the matchbox. Maria carefully lifted Sophia down onto the soft cotton. Sophia let out a satisfied sigh.

“Sophia, you’re sick. You can’t fool me anymore.”

“I guess I can fool you, Henri, because I’m not sick. I’m dying. Not of a disease. Of old age. Tell him, Maria.”

“She’s right, Henri,” said Maria. “We’ve lived a good life with you and the circus, but we are old. You’ve taken such wonderful care of us that we’ve all lived nearly three times as long as we would have on our own, but the time has come. These old legs just don’t jump the way they used to.”

“Don’t look so sad, Henri,” said Sophia in a barely audible voice. “We’ve had fun. I have done things and met insects I never expected to. I wouldn’t have missed it for anything! Thank you, Henri. It’s been a pleasure knowing you.”

Henri could scarcely speak. “Thank you, Sophia, for all your hard work and all the things you have taught me. I’m going to miss you a lot.”

“I want to sleep now, Henri. Take Maria back to the others and close the box. I’ll see you in the morning.”

Henri did as she told him. It was a bit like taking orders from Great Aunt Georgie. He couldn’t disobey. And that was the last time Henri spoke to Sophia.

In the morning, he opened the box. Her body was still. The life had gone out of her. Two days later Maria passed away, followed soon thereafter by Liora, Giovanni, and Umberto. Only Fabio remained, and, being a true showman, he gave his last gasp on the stage. As he was shot out the cannon, he bounded from wall to wall ringing the bells to chime out the tune to “La Cucaracha,” especially for their Mexican audience. At the successful conclusion of his act, he did not rise from the floor to take his final bow. With his death, the last of the original fleas was gone.

The fleas had enjoyed their fame in the circus. Each of them had children and so Fabio Junior took over his father’s act, but to Henri it wasn’t the same.

He insisted on a send-off for his friends. It wasn’t exactly a funeral but it was a solemn occasion. On a morning when the circus insects normally would have been rehearsing, Henri gathered them together. He had placed the bodies of the deceased fleas in the old matchbox and put it in the center ring. Henri spoke fondly of his departed friends.

“I remember my first day at the circus. Sophia took charge right away and…”

“Henri!”

Henri jumped and turned to see Maestro Antonio, his head poking in the door of the tent and a look of complete astonishment on his face.

“You really can speak to insects, can’t you?”

“Umm…well…yes,” Henri stuttered. He had been careful to keep all communication between himself and the insects private, but now he had been caught.

Maestro Antonio walked toward Henri. “I have been saying it for months. It’s as if you can talk to those insects, and it turns out that’s exactly what you are doing!” He chuckled. “Henri, it’s time I heard the whole truth. How is it that you can speak to insects? Where are you from? Are you really a boy?”