In Search of Goliathus Hercules

by Jennifer Angus

  Pedro, on the other hand, really had managed to maim himself. Henri felt some guilt over this accident. Having sat in on a few performances in the big top, Henri had watched Herbert Kramer the Lion Tamer coax his big cats through rings of fire. Amazing! thought Henri. He decided to adapt that trick for the fleas with a set of miniature rings.

  The fleas had been less than excited. “It sounds dangerous, Henri,” said Maria.

  “It’s not, really.” Henri replied. “Look, you can see for yourselves! I’ll take Maria and Sophia to the big top to see the show.”

  They’d agreed to hide in Henri’s hair with the firm understanding that they were not to bite him. And so the two fleas attended their first non-flea circus. Henri found a spot under the bleachers where he could point things out to Maria and Sophia without drawing attention to their presence. When the show began, the two fleas came out of his hair and rested upon his forehead for a better view.

  The two fleas were absolutely delighted with the performance. They chortled and cheered with the rest of the crowd at the antics of the clowns, the daring of the trapeze artists, and the precision of the acrobats. They watched the lions jump through hoops of fire, and when they saw that the big cats were unharmed, they admitted to Henri that if those furry lions could manage to get through the flames unsinged, then so could they!

  “We have to be brave like the lions,” said Maria.

  “Well, we’re much better jumpers than those cats,” said Sophia. “It would be easy to jump through twenty rings.”

  Henri laughed. “That would be great, but I don’t think we’ll have room for that many. I think six rings would be good, and then it should be easy enough for even Pedro and Pablo to jump through them.”

  “Good point,” said Sophia. “Those two nincompoops!” he heard her mutter.

  Just then Henri heard the sound of scuffling shoes behind him. He turned around and saw a clown watching him from a few feet away. Sophia and Maria scurried for cover in his hair as he had instructed them to do if anyone came around. He wasn’t sure whether they had been fast enough, though.

  “Talking to yourself?” the clown asked.

  “Um, yes,” stammered Henri.

  “That’s a sign of craziness. Are you going mad?” the clown jeered.

  Henri realized first that the clown was a girl, and second, that she was probably no older than him. He didn’t feel so intimidated now.

  “That’s right. I’m the crazy flea boy!” and he made a leap toward her.

  She laughed. “So I see. And was that flea language you were speaking? I couldn’t understand a word you said.”

  Henri had never really thought about it before. Speaking to insects came so naturally to him that he had never stopped to think that it might sound any different than English. “Well, yes, of course it was.” For her amusement and also to warn the fleas, he said in what he now realized was insect talk. “Maria, Sophia, keep yourselves hidden. I think the girl may have spotted you.”

  And, indeed, she had. She laughed again and said, “You’re weird. You really are the flea boy. Henri, right? Do you always carry your fleas around with you? It’s kind of disgusting. People won’t want to be around you if they know.”

  Henri’s face fell. Drat! This was not going to improve his reputation at the circus. He decided to tell the girl the truth, though she certainly wouldn’t believe him. “No, they don’t usually travel on me, but we’re working on a new act. The fleas are going to jump through hoops of fire just like the lions. They were scared and thought it was too dangerous, so I brought them to see the show and prove to them that they can do it too.”

  “Sure, sure. OK, stop it. You don’t need to make up a big story.”

  “I knew you wouldn’t believe it,” Henri said. “But let me prove that I really am speaking to the fleas.” To Sophia and Maria he said in insect language “Girls, you can come out now. Just walk out onto my forehead. ”The clown girl listened and watched him with interest. Slowly, the fleas came out, appearing as two dots on his forehead. Then Henri held out his hand and said again in insect speech to them, “Would you mind jumping onto my hand?” In a second, the two fleas sat in the palm of his hand.

  “Wow! I don’t know how you did that. I can’t believe you’re really talking to them. You must be some kind of magician. Good job! I’m Robin, by the way.”

  “Pleased to meet you, Robin. Why don’t you come by the flea circus sometime and see our show. If you come tomorrow, you can see the new rings of fire act, and then you’ll know that I was telling the truth.”

  “You really want me to believe you, don’t you?”

  “Well, yes, I suppose I do, but mostly I don’t want the circus folk to think I’m some dirty, flea-bitten boy.”

  She laughed again. “I wouldn’t worry about that too much. Lots of people around here have fleas. People don’t like to talk about them for obvious reasons. You know Billy, the lion tamer’s assistant?” Henri nodded. “He’s got fleas, for sure. I always see him scratching himself, but I don’t think less of him. It’s a—what do you call it? My dad told me…an occupational hazard!”

  “What does that mean?” asked Henri.

  “It means it’s a danger, an annoyance that comes with the job. I gotta go now. I’m on again in five minutes. See you, Henri.”

  “OK. Bye.” And as an afterthought he said, “Break a leg!”

  Robin turned and smiled. “Thanks,” she said and hurried off. Henri had learned in his first week that you never wish a performer good luck because if you do, they believe quite the opposite will happen. So you wish something bad on them—like breaking a leg—instead.

  Returning Sophia and Maria to his hair, Henri smiled. Three good things had happened. First, the fleas were now convinced that they could jump through the rings of fire. Second, he had met Robin, who didn’t seem to look down on him, and in terms of the circus hierarchy, she was far superior since she was a performer in the big top. And finally, he knew where to get fleas! Billy! But he would have to figure out a way of getting them without making Billy feel bad.

  The following day, Maestro Antonio announced, “And now ladies and gentlemen, a world premiere! Let me introduce a pair of brave daredevils…Pedro and Pablo! These two will launch themselves through not one, not two, not three, no, not four, not even five, but six, yes, six rings of blazing fire. Enrico, prepare the rings!”

  Henri was a little concerned. Despite his suggestion yesterday that the two fleas rehearse, both had decided that it was so easy it wasn’t necessary. Henri leaned over to set the rings ablaze. As he did so, he whispered to Pedro and Pablo, “Break a leg!” Pedro looked startled but braced himself and launched his body into the air. Through the hoops he flew, but Henri could see his jump was off-center. He landed at the other end and collapsed! Pablo was up next, but it was clear he was frozen with fear. Luckily, out of nowhere, Maria jumped through the hoops and landed beyond Pedro with a flourish. The audience roared with delight. Of course, they had no idea which flea was which, so it was all the same to them. Two fleas had made it through the rings of fire.

  When the show was over, Henri quickly turned his attention to Pedro. “What happened?” asked Henri.

  “You told me to break a leg! I didn’t break a leg. I burned one off! This is all your fault!” he howled.

  “Oh, quiet!” said Sophia. “It’s nobody’s fault but your own, you idiot. You should have practiced the way Henri wanted you to.”

  “What am I going to do now?” Pedro wailed. “I’ll never work again.”

  “The only reason you won’t work is because you’re so lazy!” Maria retorted.

  “OK, OK, everyone. Calm down. Pedro, I am very sorry you were hurt,” said Henri. “Maybe I could make you some crutches? Or an artificial leg? That’s what they do for soldiers who have lost their legs in battle.”

  “Now, that I would be interested in,” said Pedro.

  “Henri, don’t be ridiculous,” said Sophia. “Pedro, you st
ill have five good legs. You are exaggerating! Look at you, you’ve been moving around almost normally.”

  It was true. In his anger, Pedro had bounded about the circus stage just as he always did. “But the pain!” he howled. “I’ll be in agony for the rest of my life.”

  “Tsk, tsk,” said Maria. “I’ve seen better acting by the clowns in the big top show! Sophia is right. You’re exaggerating!”

  It was impossible for Henri to know if Pedro was really in pain or faking it, and so he said, “Pedro and Pablo, I am going to make arrangements for both of you to be shipped home tomorrow.” And with that announcement, Henri realized that more than ever he must hold auditions.

  Facts of Life and Death

  “Pedro, Pablo? Where’s home for you?” asked Henri.

  “Here,” they replied in unison. “Not that it’s a great place,” said Pedro dejectedly.

  “I mean, before coming to the circus, where was home?”

  “Oh, now that was a nice place,” said Pablo. “Wasn’t it, Pedro?”

  “Sure was. I remember it well. Nice juicy flesh. Blood had an outdoorsy type of taste…like a breezy summer’s day by the seaside.”

  “Yes,” continued Pablo, “but there was a hint of citrus too and such a sweet aftertaste.”

  “I think that his name might have been John,” said Pedro.

  “No, it was Jean!” said Pablo.

  “I was thinking the country or the town you come from, not the person you resided on! Just forget it!” said an exasperated Henri. Based on their names, Henri had to assume that Pedro and Pablo were from Spain, or maybe Italy. He felt an obligation to them, for no matter how hopeless the two fleas had been, the fact remained that Pedro was now an amputee. Since they were unable to give Henri any better idea of where they came from, he decided to send them to Valencia, Spain. They had mentioned that their host had a taste of citrus, and Valencia oranges were famous. He put the matchbox inside a bigger box and addressed the label:

  c/o General Post Office

  Valencia, Spain

  Henri posted the package and checked his mail but there was nothing. From time to time Great Aunt Georgie sent him letters. He had mailed her the circus’s schedule so that she could send mail to the post offices in the towns where they stopped. He had been very nervous opening her first letter, fearful that she would be angry or hurt at his departure from Woodland Farm; however, quite to the contrary, she had written that she understood his need to travel and to learn as well as his desire to help in some way to find his father. “Besides,” she wrote, “what child wouldn’t want to join the circus? If I were ninety years younger, I would do it myself!” She did caution him to be careful, though. Still, she never mentioned Henri’s ability to speak to insects. And she made no mention of Mrs. Black.

  Henri decided to walk to the town library. The circus had only arrived that morning, so there would be no show until the following day. He wanted to do some reading, particularly on fleas and generally on insects. In the library, Henri gazed at the shelves of books, wondering where to begin. Eventually he selected a number of volumes and took them to a table, pulling out the paper and pencil he had brought along. He had considered bringing the five-year diary to make his notes in, but he felt miserable whenever he looked at it. It reminded him of home and his mother and father. Great Aunt Georgie forwarded him any mail that came from his mother.

  Rarely did his mother send letters. He supposed that since she didn’t have any good news to report, a postcard was easier and less painful to fill. They were postmarked British Malaya. As was his habit, Henri pulled out the stack of worn postcards from a canvas bag. It had grown so big that it would no longer fit in his pocket. He undid the string and read through the two most recent cards containing messages that he could practically recite.

  Darling Henri,

  Arrived at Father’s rubber plantation today. His assistant, a local man, says that one day Father was there and the next day he was gone! No notice at all. Most unlike the man we know and love. Nonetheless I think you will agree that in some ways no news is good news! Do not give up hope.

  Love as always,

  Mother

  My Dearest Henri,

  My journey takes me to Kuala Lumpur where I will meet with many of Father’s business and personal acquaintances. I expect they will be able to give me several clues as to Father’s whereabouts. It is even possible that one of them will lead me directly to him. Perhaps he is in a local hospital, too ill even to write. Not to worry, I will nurse him back to health!

  All my love,

  Mother

  Henri tied up the postcards and put them away. He sighed and then opened one of the books on fleas he had selected. As he read, he jotted down facts that he found to be of interest. He wasn’t exactly sure what he would do with the information, but he knew that if he wrote it down, he would remember it better.

  Fact #1: Some fleas can jump 150 times their own body length.

  Having watched Maria, that didn’t surprise him at all.

  Fact #2: Fleas are often confused with other pests such as lice and ticks.

  Funny, he never really thought of the fleas as pests. OK, maybe Pedro and Pablo, but that was because they were useless performers.

  Fact #3: A female flea can lay up to two-thousand eggs during her lifetime.

  Wow! He wondered if Sophia, Liora, and Maria had any desire to become parents.

  Fact #4: A female flea can consume fifteen times her own body weight in blood each day.

  Ugh! He didn’t want to think about that. Since he had joined the circus, his blood was the sole source of nourishment for the fleas. If more were to join the troop, he would have to ask the maestro to start contributing at mealtime!

  Fact #5: Fleas can live up to three months.

  This was something he would have to learn to get used to. The life of an insect, no matter what kind, was short compared to his own. A mayfly lives less than twenty-four hours. A stag beetle might live up to three years. Cicada nymphs, while living underground for up to seven years, could measure their adult lives in weeks. The fleas were his friends. He was attached to them, and he would be sad when they died.

  Most of the letters Henri received from Great Aunt Georgie were filled with inconsequential thoughts on the weather, a neighbor’s new recipe for apple pie, and highlights of the previous Sunday’s church sermon. But in one of her letters, she mentioned that she had gone into his old room to put any belongings he might have left behind into safekeeping. She’d found a few items—a marble, some jacks, and bottle caps.“ Also upon the windowsill was a fly,” the letter continued. “He was dead. I have carefully wrapped up his body and will save him for you. I understand you are building a collection of sorts and he is to be added to it.”

  She was of course letting him know of Dom’s death, his friend and hers too. Her note confirmed that she too could speak to insects, for Dom must have told her to save his body for him. Henri had cried when he read the letter, but he could not share his grief with anyone at the circus. Who cries over a fly?

  Henri gazed into space as he sat in the library and recalled the letter. He turned back to his flea facts.

  Fact #6: Fleas can live up to one hundred days without eating.

  No need to worry about Pedro and Pablo on their voyage home!

  Fact #7: Fleas are known spreaders of disease. The bubonic plague, or the Black Death, was spread by fleas that lived on rats.

  This was worrying. He hoped all his fleas were disease-free. Would they foam at the mouth and jump around like mad fleas? How would he be able to distinguish that from their regular jumping?

  Henri decided to move on from fleas. He had one truly burning question. Why—or was it how—was he able to talk to insects? He went back to the shelves and discovered a book titled Insect Communication, or My Life with Talking Beetles by Dr. Daniel Young, Entomologist.

  Henri was excited as he took notes. It turned out that Professor Young had spen
t his life studying Odontotaenius disjunctus, more commonly known as patent-leather beetles. Professor Young had found that the beetles had fourteen distinct sounds they used to communicate with one another. The professor had discovered that by mimicking the sounds, he too was able to communicate with the beetles.

  Henri could barely contain himself. Perhaps Professor Young could explain why he was able to speak to insects! He would write to the professor. Henri jotted down the information from the book. Perhaps in his letter he would ask the professor about Goliathus hercules too.

  Henri left the library and returned to the circus tents pitched in a field on the outskirts of town. It was a sunny day, and wildflowers dotted the grounds. Fluttering about the purple and pink blooms were butterflies of lemon yellow, golden yellow, yellow with orange spots, and white with yellow spots. Henri stopped to watch their joyful flight, and it occurred to him that it had been a while since he’d spoken to any insects but the fleas. He cleared his throat and said, “Good afternoon. What a beautiful day it is.”

  There was a twitter, and then he heard the butterflies say in unison, “Good afternoon, Henri Bell.”

  Henri was shocked. They knew his name! “How do you know my name?”

  One of the larger yellow butterflies flew toward Henri and rested on his shoulder.“ Everyone in the insect world knows of you. Your deeds are told to our children and passed from generation to generation. Our offspring are numerous, and thus the tale travels quickly. We are honored to meet the Hero of the Creek,” she said.

  “Oh,” said Henri, feeling somewhat embarrassed. “Well, thank you. It’s my honor to meet you too.”

  “If we may be of any service, do not hesitate to call.” And with that, the butterfly took flight into the air.

  “Thank you,” called Henri. “Likewise, let me know if there is anything I can do for you!”