“Enough! We’re not here to debate the intelligence of insects!” Agatha Black hissed. “We are all here to capture Goliathus hercules, but I am afraid only one of us can claim the glory. That, of course, will be me! Since you are so convinced of the insects’ intelligence, Antonio, step forward and negotiate with them. Now!”
“I would like to do that, Mrs. Black, but I am afraid that my language skills are rudimentary at best. We all know that Henri is the only one fluent enough to discuss this delicate matter with them.”
Mrs. Black stamped her foot again in frustration. She looked at Goliathus hercules inching forward.
“Tell them to stop. Don’t come any closer.”
“I could ask them, but they are unlikely to listen to me.” By now Maestro Antonio was certain that Mrs. Black didn’t understand insect. So he walked toward the mass of beetles and said in insect, “Friends! Prepare to attack the enemy!”
The beetles continued to move forward. With her own life at risk now, Mrs. Black raised the machete and sliced the rope that bound Henri and Robin together. She put her foot on Robin’s chest as she leaned over and pulled Henri up. “Get me a beetle or the girl is dead!” She pulled the cloth out of his mouth. “No tricks or I will kill her!”
Henri nodded, and stepped toward Goliathus hercules.
“My friends, are you ready?” he said to them. “I need one volunteer.”
He saw the New One move forward. Then the shiny beetle opened his wing, flew up, and landed on Henri’s shoulder.
As Henri slowly turned back to Mrs. Black, he whispered to the New One, “Wait for my signal.” It seemed to him that the beetle nodded.
“Here you are,” Henri called out to Agatha Black. “Now let Robin go!”
“Where is the cage? Put it in the cage!” she screeched.
Suddenly there was a deafening, high-pitched shriek and an explosion of brilliant light like an explosion in a fireworks factory. Mrs. Black screamed. Her bats, blinded by the light, broke their formation and flapped about in confusion. Millions of synchronized fireflies and cicadas had together created a stunning blast of light and sound.
“ATTACK!” Henri shouted.
The beetle on his shoulder took off and flew directly toward Mrs. Black’s face. She screamed as the beetle landed on her veil, and with his pinchers, ripped at the cloth. Desperately she tore the veil off.
At last Henri gazed at his uncovered nemesis. The burning hatred and anger he felt for her was so intense that he felt it rising up from the pit of his stomach. He felt sick. He lurched forward and retched spectacularly. Suddenly he felt a release. He dropped to his knees. The anger was gone.
Henri heard horrible screaming! When he looked up, Agatha Black was on the ground, writhing.
“What have you done?! Oh, it burns! You are the devil! It’s true! Oh!”
To make matters worse, Mrs. Black was lying in a stream of army ants that started to cover her body and sting her. Meanwhile Goliathus hercules had taken to the air and were attacking her like crows pecking at carrion. When she was not clutching her face, she tried to swat the beetles away, but they jabbed at her fingers, ripping her gloves.
“Oh! Help me! Have mercy!” cried Mrs. Black.
Her allies—the bats—were in disarray and did not come to her aid. Henri found he could not pity her, for she was the tormentor to so many of his kind, but he also could not let the savage attack continue.
“Stop! Everyone! Cease fire! We have won!” yelled Henri in both insect and English.
What a commotion! There was raucous twittering, chirping, and cheering. Maestro Antonio and Billy rushed over to Mrs. Black and, taking her arms firmly, lifted her to her feet. She was a horrific sight—her face swollen and covered in something sticky, her black clothes ripped and bloody. She was a shadow of her former haughty self.
“What are we going to do with her now?” asked Billy in disgust.
“We take her to Kuala Lumpur and let the authorities deal with her!” said Henri.
“Henri,” Robin pointed out. “I know she’s not a nice person, but I’m not sure she’s broken any laws.”
“What do you mean?” shouted Henri. “She’s responsible for the painful deaths of thousands, if not millions of insects!”
“Yes, I know,” Robin was quick to respond. “And I’m not saying it’s right, but…that’s not a crime in the, uh…human world,” responded Robin.
“She threatened to kill you!” said Maestro Antonio. “That is most definitely a crime! Attempted murder!”
“That’s right!” chimed in Billy. “And she—”
But he was interrupted by a sound none of them had heard before. A tremendous roar.
A huge tiger had bounded into the clearing. A few of the villagers in the expedition party ran for cover. Everyone else froze in terror.
The tiger paced and snorted, seemingly unsure what to do. Perhaps he was surprised by his luck to have found several tasty meals all in one place.
“All right, everyone—” Henri broke the silence but Billy interrupted him.
“Henri, I think this is my area of expertise, if you don’t mind.”
Henri nodded. “Yes, of course. Sorry.”
Billy let go of Mrs. Black’s arm; the maestro held fast to her other arm. Then Billy slowly bent down and grabbed a piece of the rope that had once held Robin and Henri.
“Everyone listen to me,” he said calmly. “I don’t want any one to move. Keep looking at the tiger. Don’t turn your back on him. Don’t say anything. Don’t do anything to excite or annoy him. I’m going to try and get him to follow me.”
“Billy! Be careful,” whispered Robin.
“Sure, I’m going to be careful. This pussy cat wouldn’t hurt a fly, would you?” he said gently to the tiger. “You’re a good kitty, aren’t you?”
He held the rope as he had once held the whip during shows in the big top. The tiger twitched his tail and kept his eyes on Billy.
“Come on, there’s a good kitty.” Facing the tiger, Billy slowly walked backward toward the trees and dense jungle. “That’s a good kitty. Come with Billy.”
The tiger moved slowly, seemingly fascinated by Billy and his words. Billy started to sing “Le Petit Chat Noir,” and the tiger followed him.
Just then, Henri heard a groan from behind him. He turned to see Maestro Antonio doubled over in pain. Mrs. Black had broken away and was racing toward the edge of the clearing. With a roar, the tiger turned away from Billy and leaped in pursuit of the fleeing woman. Mrs. Black reached the edge of the trees with astounding speed. Her feet seemed to barely touch the ground, and then she disappeared into the jungle. A moment later the tiger was gone too.
Everyone heard the snap of branches, the shaking of leaves, a roar. And then, finally, a short, high-pitched scream. Then there was nothing.
Three Mysteries
Mat had led his men in the direction of Mrs. Black and the tiger, torches ablaze. Billy and the maestro followed them. Henri, quite sure that his nemesis was no more, stayed in the clearing and turned his attention to their new allies, Goliathus hercules. Robin still stood by his side.
“Thank you for joining us. We wouldn’t have been successful in defeating Mrs. Black if you hadn’t sided with us,” he told them. “I’m truly sorry for the loss of your leader.”
“He died in battle,” said an exceptionally shiny beetle. “There is nothing more honorable for a warrior. He is at peace.”
There was much clicking of pinchers by the assembled group. It seemed to Henri to be the equivalent of applause or cheers.
“Serranga-orang, did you come to our jungle simply to fight your enemy?” asked the New One.
Henri looked down at the beetles. “The truth is that both Mrs. Black and I came for the same thing,” he said remorsefully. “You.”
There was an angry murmur among the beetles.
“What?”
“What does he mean?”
“He came to fight us?”
“You see! He is our enemy too!”
The air was filled with the renewed clicking of pinchers, this time threatening.
“No! I cannot speak for Mrs. Black, but I never meant you any harm! I wanted to meet you! Where I come from, you are mysterious creatures,” said Henri. “Some men, or two-legs as you call them, have a great interest in the jungle and all its inhabitants. We call them scientists. I am a scientist—an entomologist, actually. That’s someone who studies insects. My expedition party and I only wished to make contact with your kind, learn about you, and invite some of you to return with us to our land. You could then learn about us.”
“Why would we want to do that? We have no interest in you! Two-legs do not belong here!” yelled an angry beetle.
“What can you learn by studying us? How to defeat us in battle? Is that what you intend?” shouted another.
“No, no! I told you. I come in peace and in the name of science. Uh…I suppose that by studying other creatures to some degree, we, the two-legged, learn something about ourselves and have a better understanding of our place in the world.”
He was stricken with doubt. For years now he had been consumed by the idea of finding Goliathus hercules and proving to the world that they existed, but why? It seemed like a childish idea now. He had never needed to explain his motivation to humans, but as he stood before Goliathus hercules, searching for an explanation into the intrusion into their lives, it all seemed quite reckless and selfish. What benefit was there for them? Perhaps they would be sought as trophies in the same way tigers were hunted for their skins and elephants for their tusks. Henri suddenly felt guilty.
He was pulled from his thoughts when one of the Goliathus hercules asked, “You said, ‘we the two-legged,’ but you have more than two legs. What are you? Why ally yourselves with them? As you say, what is your place in the world?”
Well, that was a mystery to which Henri wished he knew the answer.
“Yes,” said the New One. “You have six legs, antennae, speak insect, and we saw you spit acid into the face of the evil two-leg. But you speak their language too and are closer in size…”
“What?” Henri interrupted. “I did not spit acid into Mrs. Black’s face!” He tried to recall the battle. He had felt strange, and then he had retched—
“You’re mistaken. I was just sick. I vomited,” said Henri. He turned to Robin. “They say I spit acid into Mrs. Black’s face.Is that true?”
Robin nodded sadly. “Yes. Don’t you remember? She said her face was burning.”
With a groan, Henri turned away from Robin and Goliathus hercules. He raised his uppermost set of his arms and held his head. What kind of hideous monster was he becoming? How much longer did he have before he would be completely unrecognizable in not only form but in character too? He must hold on. He must fight to retain his dignity, his—his humanity.
He felt Robin’s hand gently rubbing his back. “It’s all right, Henri. Everything is going to be fine.” But she was crying as she said it.
At last Henri opened his eyes. He could not look at Robin because her tears would make him sad, and at this moment he must not waver or seem weak. Drawing a deep breath, he turned to Goliathus hercules and said, “I am Serranga-orang. I am half man and half insect. Where is my place in the world, in the hierarchy of man and beast? The people of this area have told stories of my adventures for centuries. I can outwit any creature! My dual nature makes me both master of my jungle domain and a heralded scientist in the cities of the two-legged.”
It was a fairy tale as far as Henri was concerned, but for the moment it was the best answer to the mystery of his ever-changing body. Surprisingly the swarm of Goliathus hercules bobbed its horns and clicked its pinchers in agreement.
Emboldened, Henri continued.
“Who among you is brave enough and clever enough to join me and come to the cities of the two-legged?”
The New One stepped forward and said, “I will.”
There was a chorus of “No!” and “Don’t go!”
But the New One said, “I told you before that I have some experience with two-legs. They are inquisitive and not easily defeated. They will only continue to harass us. Perhaps if I go with Serranga-orang, it will satisfy their curiosity and I will have his protection.”
“Of course!” said Henri.
“It is my choice, and this is my decision,” said the New One.
There was much grumbling, but eventually realizing they could not change his mind, Goliathus hercules departed the clearing, leaving their lone representative. Robin retrieved the cage Mrs. Black had brought.
“That won’t be necessary,” said the beetle. “I come of my own accord. You don’t need to lock me up.”
With that, he spread his great wings and once again flew up, landing on Henri’s shoulder, almost like a parrot.
“No, of course not,” said Henri.
Just then, Billy, Maestro Antonio, and the rest of the expedition party returned to the clearing.
“We recovered this. It was snagged on some bushes,” said Maestro Antonio. He held up a scrap of black cloth, undoubtedly from Agatha Black’s dress. “That’s all we could find. We’ll look again in the morning.”
The search continued the following day, and several more shreds of her dress were inexplicably found higher up in the trees.
“Tigers usually go for the throat,” said Billy casually. “They don’t toss their prey up in the air. Gripping the throat causes suffocation. Then the tiger drags the carcass to a nice private area and begins gnawing at the rump. Of course—”
“Thank you, Billy! That’s quite enough detail,” said Maestro Antonio. “It seems like there may have been a tussle of sorts, but there is no evidence to suggest that the tiger actually caught her or that she was dragged away.”
“In all the years I worked with big cats, I never saw or heard of anyone outrunning a tiger. I don’t know how she did it!” said Billy. “In fact, I find it hard to believe. If she really did get away, it’s a mystery to me.”
The ship rocked gently back and forth, causing her timbers to creak with each sway. The boat seemed to have the same aches and pains as Henri. He stiffly rose from his bed and moved to the porthole to look out. It was a sunny day. Henri pulled open the round window and felt the fresh breeze. He shivered.
“Please close that immediately,” came a polite but authoritative voice in the cabin behind him.
“Sorry!” said Henri, and he quickly shut the porthole. He turned around. Upon the desk in his cabin sat the cage Mrs. Black carried. Its door was open, and beside it, gnawing on a piece of sugar cane, was the enormous beetle—Goliathus hercules!
“Care for some breakfast?” he said, looking up at Henri.
“Umm…no, thank you.” While Henri quite liked sugar cane, the fact that the beetle had straddled it with his entire body was a little off-putting. It was sort of like someone offering you a sandwich they had accidentally sat on.
Henri got back into bed and raised the covers to his chin for warmth. He continued to stare at the grazing beetle.
“I do wish you wouldn’t watch me eat. You know it’s rather rude to do that?”
Henri let out a chortle. The beetle sounded just like Great Aunt Georgie admonishing him for his poor manners! It also reminded him of a time long ago when Dom the fly had reprimanded him for reading over his shoulder. Really, insects could be very genteel. They hardly deserved their reputation as dirty miscreants.
His laugh had caused the beetle to stop eating, and the beetle gave Henri a sharp look.
“Sorry, sorry!” said Henri. “I mean no offense. What you said, well, you sounded like someone I know.”
The beetle abruptly climbed off the sugar cane and moved closer to Henri. He gnashed his pinchers, cutting at the air with aggressive ferocity. Then he rapidly opened and closed his wings as if to launch himself at Henri. Henri, however, seemed unperturbed by these actions, for in the short time he had spent with the warrio
r insect he had learned that this was a grooming ritual carried out at the conclusion of a meal.
“Really?” he said. “Of whom do I remind you?”
“My Great Aunt Georgie,” replied Henri. “She’s a real stickler for manners and proper etiquette.”
“She sounds like a very cultured person. Please tell me more about her.”
“Well, she’s nearly a hundred years old,” began Henri, who went on to describe the house on Woodland Farm and Great Aunt Georgie’s passionate interest in collecting buttons. Over the course of their journey by ship, Henri discovered that this beetle was more curious than any other insect he’d ever met. Mrs. Black wasn’t exactly wrong when she said insects tended to think of their stomachs before anything else, but while this particular member of Goliathus hercules had a healthy appetite, he also appeared to be fascinated by every last detail of Henri’s life.
Aboard the ship that would return them to England, the explorers had nearly two months to discuss their adventures, speculate on the fate of Mrs. Black, and study their most prized specimen, Goliathus hercules.
As was their evening ritual, they sat cramped in Henri’s cabin with Henri, Robin, and Billy on the bed while Maestro Antonio sat on the lone chair in front of the desk. The beetle ambled about the desktop.
It was Maestro Antonio who pointed out that the beetle was a rather skillful conversationalist. The insect always managed to extract more information than he ever gave of himself. This, among other things, made Billy suspicious of the creature.
“He’s up to something, Henri,” Billy said one evening. “I don’t trust him. He’s not…he’s not…” Billy searched for the word. “Wild! He’s not wild enough!”
“I really don’t know what that is supposed to mean!” replied Henri. “He bit you during the battle! That’s not wild enough for you?”
“Oh yes. I’m not going to forget that any time soon,” said Billy, feeling the scar on his cheek. “I don’t know. There’s something not right about him. He’s devious. He’s up to something. Henri, he’s nothing like any of the reports you told us about.”
In Search of Goliathus Hercules Page 21