In Search of Goliathus Hercules

by Jennifer Angus

  Robin, Billy, and Maestro Antonio looked horrified, for they now understood that what Henri had heard were the wails of silkworms being boiled alive. They heard a laugh and looked from Henri to the face of the emperor’s wife’s cousin’s brother-in-law’s sister, still veiled in the steaming mist. Khan approached her, and she whispered into his ear.

  “She says you are very sentimental. She is sorry that you are upset. She thought this might be an educational visit.”

  Henri was ready to leap at the emperor’s wife’s cousin’s brother-in-law’s sister and toss her into the big, steaming pot of boiling water, but he was held back by Maestro Antonio and Billy. Henri struggled, but they were too strong for him. As gently as they could, they forced Henri out the factory gate, finally releasing him once they were on the street.

  “W-why didn’t you l-let me at her?” he stuttered in anger.

  “She’s the emperor’s wife’s cousin’s brother-in-law’s sister—royalty, in other words. They probably would have locked us in prison and tossed away the key if you had hurt her,” declared Maestro Antonio.

  “She is not royalty!” retorted Henri. “She’s Agatha Black! You know she is! Masquerading once again!”

  “Henri, we all know that, but Tony is right. The people around here seem to think that she is royalty,” Robin said.

  “What do we do now?” asked Billy.

  “We wait!” snapped Henri. “And then we follow her.”

  Grimly, they agreed. They retreated down the street, hiding in a very narrow and smelly alley until the palanquin passed. Stealthily as they could, they followed it to the marketplace. At last, it stopped.

  Henri watched as the emperor’s wife’s cousin’s brother-in-law’s sister emerged from the palanquin and walked over to a stall that had shelf upon shelf of tiny, very ornate cages, too small for a bird. Henri recognized them right away from his days of polishing buttons for Great Aunt Georgie. They were cricket cages. At once, the most sorrowful sound came to his ears. It was the saddest song in the world. There were different voices, but they all sang the same story. A tale of once-happy, pleasure-filled days until the cricket was captured and forced by man to sing its song. The songs spoke of lonely, gray days trapped in the beautiful barred prison cell. It was a lovely song, but so sad.

  After the emperor’s wife’s cousin’s brother-in-law’s sister pointed to a cricket, the shopkeeper used a sharp stick to poke the cricket, which was its cue to begin singing. She tested the voices of at least a dozen crickets before finally purchasing six of the best singers. In their individual cages, they were packed into the palanquin. The shopkeeper gave her his stick. The emperor’s wife’s cousin’s brother-in-law’s sister returned to the palanquin and pulled the curtain. Immediately, the crickets began to sing. Henri, Robin, Billy, and Maestro Antonio all understood the sad song. They winced as they imagined the crickets jabbed with the stick, ordered to sing their melancholy tale.

  When the palanquin was gone, Henri approached the stall. He gazed at the caged crickets and turned to the others. “We’re buying them all,” he said. No one objected. Maestro Antonio hired three men to help carry the cricket cages to the city out-skirts. There they opened the doors, and as they did so, he said, “You’re free. Run away from here.” Many simply hopped away as fast as they could, but others stopped to ask which human had freed them. “Henri. Henri Bell,” was the response.

  “Thank you, Henri Bell, for your great kindness. We shall not forget this, and I will tell all my kind of this selfless deed,” said one. And that was the beginning of Henri’s fame in the Orient among the six-legged folk. He was a beacon of light, a reason for hope as a “Black” cloud crossed the continent.

  They continued to track Agatha Black, aka Madame Noir, aka Mrs. Blackburn, aka the emperor’s wife’s cousin’s brother-in-law’s sister, following her to every site of insect atrocity known to man. In each country, she assumed a new identity, although why she bothered, they couldn’t understand.

  “Maybe she just likes to dress up?” suggested Robin.

  “She’s toying with us,” retorted Henri.

  In India, they trailed her to a workshop where the wings were torn off live jewel beetles to make hair ornaments Mrs. Black had braided into her long hair. In Burma, she feasted on wok-fried cicadas, popping them into her mouth like they were peanuts. In Thailand, she commissioned a fancy serving tray covered in a mosaic pattern of butterfly wings.

  Agatha Black’s cruelty seemed to know no bounds. Her capacity to inflict pain and suffering upon insects seemed insatiable. It was obvious she took malicious pleasure in watching their pain. It disgusted Henri. He burned with a hatred so strong that sometimes he could think of nothing else. He knew he could not rest until he had captured Goliathus hercules, found his father, and put an end to Agatha Black!

  Into the Green

  The air in Kuala Lumpur was thick with humidity and exotic scents. Nothing in Malaya was dull, Henri noticed. People wore flowing garments in a rainbow of colors. The vegetation was the most dazzling bright green, and trees were laden with fruit so enormous that one would have thought they were grown expressly for giants.

  They were all relieved now that they’d arrived in the capital of British Malaya. Still, Henri had trouble sleeping at night. Just south of Bangkok in Siam they had lost track of Agatha Black. He awoke again and again from nightmares of Mrs. Black’s horrific crimes. Billy had taken to wearing binoculars around his neck and was constantly scanning the horizon for any sign of “the old hag,” as he referred to her. Maestro Antonio put his energy into recording their journey and making notes on the landscape, plants, and animals they encountered.

  It was clear that Mrs. Black was heading to British Malaya like they were, though the maestro wondered why she didn’t just rush ahead and find Goliathus hercules herself. “She’s obviously capable,” he remarked. “And wickedly smart. She could have all the fame and glory to herself.”

  “Lots of people have tried to capture Goliathus hercules before, but no one has succeeded,” said Billy. “Maybe she wants to ride our coattails into the jungle and snatch him right up from under our noses.”

  “I think it’s more than that,” said Robin. “She doesn’t just want to capture it. Maybe she needs Henri to speak to it. But why?”

  “I think Robin’s right. She needs me for some reason, but at the same time she’s trying to wear me down. That’s what all this torment is about.”

  They decided to start in Kuala Selangor, which was north of Kuala Lumpur and near the coast. Henri felt drawn to the area because it is the one other place in the world where synchronous fireflies can be found. Having worked with the fireflies in the circus, he was keen to meet their cousins. If they found nothing there, they would keep traveling inland to a vast, uncharted jungle to the west where the oldest rainforests in the world could be found.

  As they waited for the rainy season to end, they looked for a reliable guide to hire in Kuala Lumpur. Foreign explorers and adventurers like themselves tended to congregate in a few restaurants and social clubs around the city. In one such place, a restaurant called the Golden Horse Palace, they met a well-known explorer named George Maxwell. He had written a book called In Malay Forests. He was just the man to help them find a guide. Mr. Maxwell was intrigued as he listened to Henri describe their mission.

  “There seems little doubt that Goliathus hercules is a member of the beetle family, order Coleoptera,” Henri said. “And physically it’s one of the most intimidating-looking insects to walk the earth. Its head is crowned with shiny, black horns tipped with gold!”

  “You’re a tad late,” said a rather belligerent-looking, red-faced man sitting nearby with a group of men dressed in safari khaki.

  “Excuse me?” said Henri.

  “I said you’ve missed the boat!” replied the man. He smirked at his friends, and they laughed in return.

  Maestro Antonio spoke up. “Are you saying that someone has announced the capture of a li
ve specimen?”

  “Well, a few weeks ago,” said the red-faced man with emphasis. “A tall woman…What was her name?” The man turned to his friends.

  “Was it Blackburn?” asked Robin.

  “Yes! That’s it, but she should be called Mrs. High and Mighty! She waltzes in here announcing that she’s on an expedition to capture Goliathus hercules. Says she’s even got the blessing of Her Royal Highness Queen Victoria! She was waving around a piece of paper and showing it to anyone who would look. I didn’t bother looking, myself, because, after all, would the queen really send someone on such a fool’s errand? Mrs. High and Mighty is flapping about in her black dress and starched petticoats like she’s on her way to the British high commissioner’s funeral, not off into the jungle!” He let out a hardy laugh. His friends chortled along with him.

  Henri turned to his companions. With his elbows on the table, he rested his head in his hands. He felt defeated.

  “Cheer up, Henri,” said Billy resolutely. “They didn’t say she had caught Goliathus hercules, although I have to admit she’s got a head start on us.”

  “I take it that she is your rival in this venture?” asked George Maxwell. They all nodded. “Every explorer has a rival, a competitor with whom they are racing against to reach their destination or goal. Sometimes it is a friendly rivalry—”

  “Not in this case!” interjected Billy.

  “I gather that. Bitter adversaries have been driven to despicable acts, including slandering the competition, sabotaging the other’s equipment, and even murder!”

  “All excellent ideas,” muttered Billy under his breath. He received a sharp elbow from Robin.

  “But I caution you not to lose sight of what’s important. Don’t concern yourself with Mrs. Blackburn. She is a distraction. In order to successfully complete your mission, it will require your complete attention and all of your energy. Don’t let her needling divert you from your goal.”

  “That’s exactly what she’s been trying to do,” said Robin with vehemence.

  “We haven’t come all this way to give up now,” said Maestro Antonio. “Remember, Henri, capturing Goliathus hercules is just one part of our goal.”

  “You lot must be those circus people Mrs. High and Mighty said were on her tail,” the red-faced man chortled.

  “Just what else did she say?” asked Henri sharply.

  “She said you’re a bunch of sideshow freaks, and I have to say that you, young man, look rather peculiar. I predict your little party won’t last a week in the jungle.”

  Henri, Billy, and Maestro Antonio stood up. “Don’t let him goad you,” implored Robin.

  The red-faced man continued laughing and then said, “You know, once you capture Goliathus hercules, you could head south to the Dutch East Indies. You can pick yourselves up a garuda—half man and half bird. Put them both in your sideshow!”

  “After that, they can go to Tibet and capture the yeti!” said one of his companions who wore a monocle.

  “I think it’s time we departed,” said Mr. Maxwell.

  The party gathered their possessions and moved toward the door without a word to the jeering table of men. Henri paused. “I’m sorry, I think I left my notebook at the table. I’ll just be a moment. You can wait outside for me.”

  “Make it quick, Henri,” instructed Maestro Antonio as he ushered the others out the door. Henri turned back to the table, fiddling with the buttons on his shirt as he walked. He stopped briefly at the vacated table and then moved to stand in front of the red-faced man and his companions.

  “Gentlemen, we never formally introduced ourselves.” He held out his hand to the red-faced man who reluctantly took it and then Henri shook the hand of the monocled man. “I’m Henri Bell.”

  “Harry Staunton,” said red-faced man.

  “Albert Perkins,” said the monocled man.

  Henri turned to the other two men in the group. “And you two?” he asked. With lightning speed, another set of arms with clawlike hands emerged from Henri’s shirt and grabbed their hands. All the men screamed, jumping up and knocking down chairs and drinks, and the two in Henri’s grasp wrestled to remove his viselike grip.

  Henri released them at last. “Oh, well. Another time, then,” he said. “Perhaps I’ll see you gentlemen when we return with Goliathus hercules. I know you’ll want to be the first to congratulate me. And thank you for the suggestions of other adventures, but you must understand that insects are my passion.”

  Henri retracted his extra set of limbs, quickly buttoned his shirt, and with a little bow, turned and exited the Golden Horse Palace.

  Henri did not mention the hand-shaking incident to his companions. There was no denying it: in Henri’s present form, he was half man and half insect. His fully formed antennae were usually tucked under his hat, his eyes were the size of saucers, and he had sprouted another set of limbs out of his chest. “Who couldn’t use an extra set of hands?” Billy joked, but still, it was terrifying.

  Unless he was alone with Robin, Billy, and Maestro Antonio, Henri kept these extra limbs concealed under his shirt, although he had to make a conscious effort not to reach out to grab things with them. His hands were becoming more clawlike than anything else. Even Maestro Antonio could no longer explain away his deformities with hushed whispers of “thyroid problem combined with an extreme case of arthritis.” Henri’s days in public seemed numbered.

  “Don’t listen to those blowhards at the Golden Horse Palace, Henri,” Mr. Maxwell had told Henri. “Great scientists and explorers must possess imagination. It’s what allows them to speculate and theorize. Those four dullards are men of means who call themselves adventurers, but all they do is hire others to track big game, and then from their lofty, comfy perch atop an elephant, shoot the creatures. Hardly sporting! They’re fools. I believe Goliathus hercules exists because where there’s smoke, there’s fire, Henri. So many learned men couldn’t have just dreamed up this creature.”

  He suggested that Henri’s party hire its very own jungle guide. Mat was from one of the jungle tribes and knew the rainforest environment well. While he made no claim to have ever seen Goliathus hercules, he knew the stories and tribal legends of the creature. “There is usually some measure of truth to such tales,” George Maxwell pointed out.

  Once hired, Mat helped recruit the other men, including cooks, more guides, and porters to carry the supplies. At last they were ready to begin the walk to Kuala Selangor. No one had ever thought the quest would be easy, but even before the expedition party had reached the jungle, they were already miserable. It was beastly hot, and the rain continued daily, even though the rainy season was officially over. Often it was hard to tell whether they were wet with rain or perspiration. No one complained, but no one looked happy either.

  The tents, which had often seemed a cozy refuge, were now stifling hot, damp, and smelly. It was Maestro Antonio who broke first. “Ugh!” he yelled one night. “I can’t get a moment’s peace because of this infernal buzzing!”

  Everyone was finding it difficult to sleep because of the high-pitched noise of the mosquitoes. They had assumed that they wouldn’t have any trouble with mosquitoes—one wave would arrive, and Henri would negotiate with them. But no sooner had that lot gone than they’d be replaced by another group, and the procedure would start at the beginning again.

  This misery was compounded by leeches. One only needed to stand still for a minute and the leeches, sensing a warm body and juicy blood, would find their way to the legs of the unsuspecting victim. So stealthy were they that none of the party ever saw or felt the bloodsuckers attach themselves. Robin took off one of her hiking boots at a lunch stop and found nearly half a dozen sucking at her toes. She screamed and tried to pull them off.

  “They’re vile,” exclaimed Robin in tears. “Henri—try to talk to them.”

  “I can try, but I don’t think it will work. I’m only good with six-legged creatures. These don’t have any legs,” and he was right. His re
primands did no good.

  On the eighth day of their journey, they arrived to a great welcome at their final stop before entering the jungle. The people in this remote village were farmers, but they frequently entered the forest to hunt for game and collect plants for herbal remedies. The expedition party was paraded through the village as honored guests to the house of the headman, who happened to be Mat’s brother. It was wonderful to change into dry clothes, and that night everyone slept well under the protection of the house’s thatched roof and bamboo walls. It was decided that they would stay a few days to regain their strength and good spirits.

  The next morning, village elders gathered in the headman’s house and regaled them with tales of Goliathus hercules. Several wore charms around their necks, which they claimed were made with the elytra of the insect. Excitedly, Henri, Billy, Robin, and Maestro Antonio examined the charms, and it seemed possible that indeed these were authentic. Robin and Billy brought out the cameras to document their first finding related to the quest. Maestro Antonio feverishly sketched, and Henri pulled out the five-year diary to make his first-ever entry.

  Yet no one wearing the charms claimed to have seen Goliathus hercules alive. They’d found the pieces alongside the path that follows the river to the next village, a three-day walk from theirs. When Henri asked the elders why they thought they had never seen one alive, some responded that it was too clever to be seen, while others said that it was possessed by a spirit that made it invisible.

  “Surely it must have unique and exceptional camouflage,” said Maestro Antonio. “How have people who live in the jungle and wear amulets with its wings not seen one alive? Or…perhaps they choose not to see it?”