Backstage, the crew was running around. Fay was feeding her boa. Marilyn and Flore were drawing flowers on their cheeks. Marcus and Charlotte were rehearsing what they were going to do in words. Mathew was arranging his cards inside his long blue jacket. Riley was tying the laces of her boots.
“Allons-y! Nous sommes en retard. I’m going out. Marilyn, Flore, don’t forget you are first to begin the show,” Rufus announced to his team and trudged with the force left in him to the middle of the hall.
Different colours of honeydew, carnation, and maraschino were illuminating on and off the faces of the crowd. One spindrift blue light blinded Rufus as he looked around him and smiled. That was going to be his last show. Better yet make it count.
“No speeches are ever enough to express the fortress that Regitum is. Either expressed in elegies or rhapsodies, the glory of the East shall never be glowing enough. In our own modest ways,” he broke off for a split second, feeling his body growing numb, “we would like to take you on a journey, where mysticism and magic are all around, where the real world slowly disappears. The drapes of reality have fallen and the time of illusion has begun.”
Rufus bowed to the hyperactive audience pressing his long-striped hat to his chest. The darkness dominated the hall. For a moment, the audience went silent, but as the lights went back on, Rufus had already disappeared and the two girls faded in towards the ring. The cheers were back.
The aerial silk part of the show began. Marilyn and Flore floated inside the room, suspended from two long purple fabrics. The music was that of soft piano tunes that were later on accompanied by a soothing violin. Ten acrobats slithered inside on their unicycles rolling around the perimeter of the ring. In the middle, the girls moved in synch, hanging upside down the fabrics and spiralling downwards. As they landed on the ground, seven pigeons sprinted from between the crowds and up to the ceiling then outside the open window. With every tap of their foot or clap of their hands, several roses fell onto the laps of the cheering audience.
Suddenly, the music stopped and a flute sounded in the hall. The girls looked scared and the acrobats on the unicycles approached to the middle. Going in smaller circles now, two of them held the girls on their upper arms and they all dispersed outside the ring.
A fern green light bathed the large space. The ground seemed as if it had fissures and five boas rose from it to slither towards the middle. One girl opened her arms. At first, the audience thought she was a snake wrapped around itself. Dressed like one, Fay stood on her feet gracefully, welcoming her own boa as it wrapped its slimy body around her own. Their moves and dances were as if Fay was the queen of snakes. They did not hurt her. They did not throw their venom inside her system. Up to five dancers were jumping from their trapezes, careful not to fall inside the deadly den.
An abrupt yellow light rose around them, for the ring was surrounded by fire at that moment. The snakes and Fay hissed and hurtled outside the ring. Flames started going up in the middle and a human figure appeared as it came out of it. Marcus removed from the side of his tights a rapier. With a smirk at the crowd, he made it fall inch by inch inside his throat. The screams were swimming in his ear and it was all so ravishing as he enjoyed every moment of glory. The music was now that of an electric violin, speeding as Marcus removed the sword from his throat and looked around for his damsel in distress. He made it seem as if he were calling after her, and a thunder clap announced her arrival.
The crowd saw a woman falling from the ceiling. They were scared and their hearts skipped several beats. Charlotte got hold of the tight rope with both her hands. With a swirl she stood on it. Her equilibrium never faltering, she was able to walk and even dance on that rope. Marcus had a scared expression on. He was following her every step, in case she stumbled and fell. When Charlotte teased him that she was about to fall but laughed instead. Marcus screamed and jumped from place to place, making the crowd laughed with her. Desperately trying to impress her, he pulled a set of blue cards from his pocket. Softly blowing air on them, the cards flew out of his hand and soon it was raining playing cards above both of them.
The sound of the electric violin disappeared and was slowly replaced by that of the organ and the flute. Mathew advanced on an extremely large skateboard into the ring and between the fires then jumped off of it. Marcus was surprised at the skateboard coming near him. As a reflex, he jumped on it, allowing it to throw him out of the ring.
Mathew smiled at the crowd. Charlotte covered her mouth and giggled. She then closed her eyes and let herself fall. The tightrope underneath disappeared into nothingness and she landed in Mathew’s arms. He gently laid her on the ground and caressed her face. The crowd was absorbed in their ‘romance’ that they couldn’t wait for what would come next. Out of the blue, they saw a large moon, appearing at the ceiling of the hall. Charlotte fanned herself and nodded at Mathew. The moon was large and luminous and it followed Mathew’s finger as he moved it from left to right.
He passed his hand over Charlotte’s head and made a flower crown of white daisies appear, gaining a gasp from the spectators. Spinning her a full circle, he started dancing with her around the ring. The previous dancers came back on the trapezes and the unicycles jumping around happily. Then, as Charlotte moved a full circle away from Mathew’s arms, he clapped his hands making the hall rain with playing cards.
Some of the children in the show were going crazy to catch those cards and fan themselves seeing that they were huge fans of Cirque Et Feu. Marilyn and Flore, on the back of two green bears, waved at the crowd and smiled cheekily.
Mathew clapped his hands again, but this time, it rained white daisies.
After the dance lasted for three minutes, the ground started shaking and the lights were going on and off except that of the moon. Its beaming light was getting larger and almost blinding until it made everything sightless.
As the lights came back, Rufus focused on the crowd from behind the stage. The king’s seat was suddenly empty.
The crowd gasped then cheered at the sight of Riley standing in the middle. The sound of an electric guitar resonated around the room. She kept her eyes closed and her body slumping as if she were boneless. Swaying like a lonely gal, she was feeling the music course through her blood and controlling her muscles and moves. She then raised her eyes to the ceiling and slowly lowered them to the main entrance of the hall. Swaying all the while, she opened her mouth as if she were calling for someone. The spirit of gallantry disappeared from the people around her as they saw a pack of oxen running her way. The red she was wearing was enough to drive them insane. With all the force in their illusionary shape, they lunged at her, making her feeble body disappear between their hungry jaws.
As the horn announced the end of the show and a large flag of Regitum descended behind the performers, they all bowed down and waved at the cheering crowd. Riley’s eyes scanned the place and as they landed on the king’s seat. She found it empty.
Part 2
Chapter 18
The mist darkened the capital city of Regitum. The sound of the crows and the owls worked in harmony with the sad melodies of the Regitan citizens and the population of the East.
Their king was dead. It was not a heroic tragedy caused by the tales of war with the Amazon. It was the sorrowful end of a king who brought himself to his own demise. He had gouged his own eyes and bled himself to death. No one was detected coming inside his room. The report of his death screened the timing—right in the middle of the Cirque Et Feu show—and the cause was suicide.
Roaring at a safe distance, several black carriages marched forward. All around, billboards were displaying three dimensional moving pictures of the king waving to the crowd with a black and white representation of the Regitan flag. Other billboards displayed the sigil of the lion and the two eagles springing out. That time, it was all in dark colours.
Red’s black dress for Independence Day turned into one of mourning.
“I still wish I was the one who put an
end to his life,” she sighed and moved forward as another drop in a sea of people. What was once her paw to be, her spy, her voice to a better country, now lay unmoving in a casket. It was more of a treasure chest for her than a tool to hold the dead, but that precious stone inside was worth nothing but an empty shell. The pearl had already disappeared.
“Are you insane? They’ll hear you.” Mathew nudged her from the side.
“Madness is nothing but an expression of a mourning soul at funerals, my friend.” She smiled staring ahead. “They are busy singing stupid elegies for their king; my voice is nothing but a buzz of a fly.”
“But a lot of buzzing gets the flies electrified.”
Riley looked around. There were commoners and royals everywhere. They were all crying and chanting the hymn of death.
“As far as I can see, I’m the only buzzing I could hear.”
The marching crowd cleared a path in the middle, creating a large hallway of people. The sounds of the trumpets and the organs were emitted from the sides of Civilus’s square, but their voices blasted around the city. A recurring sound of drums helped the soldiers march forward. They were all covered in a black version of their uniform, the Lion and Eagle sigil printed on their necks.
Behind them, four royals, including Jonathan, were holding the casket up in the air with the national flag floating above it. The men’s legs stomped on the ground in synchronization at the sound of the drums.
Then suddenly everything stopped. They laid the casket gently on the arena of Civilus’s square. The king’s guards removed their batons from the side of their uniform, and their leader Walton Conor cried at the top of his lungs.
“Position!”
The soldiers turned into motionless statues around the king’s body.
“Poise!”
They raised their heads to the sky.
“Forward!”
They stomped one step forward like an army of programmed robots.
“Begin!”
Swiftly, the Dance of the Army began. More than fifty of them were waving their batons. They were jumping in the air. Each of them got their turn at shouting a quality of the king.
“Vigorous!”
“Wise!”
“Fair!”
“Kind!”
All sorts of values a good man would have were spread in the air. Riley was watching them with a sneer. Not one word they uttered was smooth or true enough to accept or even believe.
“Ridiculous.”
“I know, right?” Mathew shook his head. “I mean do they even buy this shit? And look at those stupid tattoos.”
Each of the army members had a tattoo of the letter R on the neck in the font they desired to mark their belonging to the military and their loyalty and service to the country.
“Hey! They’re not stupid. It’s a sign of being loyal to your country. What’s stupid is to whom the country belongs.”
“That’s what I meant. They’re marked to serve people who don’t deserve it.”
“We are miserable.” Riley laughed. “We need to be unhappy about everything. But hey, we should cheer up today.”
“Any reason why?”
“The king is dead.” She smirked.
“But the next one to come could be even worse.”
The image of the woman foreboding the king’s death and her role in it swarmed back to her mind. She did not know how her part was vital, but all she cared about was that his son would reign and that would be the end of Armageddon starting with Regitum and hopefully later in the East.
“He might not be the best person, but he should make a good leader.”
Her eyes drifted towards Jonathan who was moving forward with the rest of the members in the Assembly. He had poise and from the look on his face, his red eyes, and his posture, she could tell it was going to be a crowning instead of a funeral that day. The world may be mourning, but it was the birth of a new king instead of the former’s decease.
Judge Essie Carter climbed the small steps to the stage set in the middle of the square. She stood behind the golden podium, decorated with white roses. The people were still singing the elegies until the casket rested in the middle of the square on a large tall glossy black cube. The image of the citizens reflected on the cube as if they were holding the king’s casket up and praising his never-fading glory.
The Assembly members walked behind one another and took a seat behind the podium and the cube. Essie Carter contemplated the crowd with a grave look on her face, patiently waiting for them to calm down. Once the songs died and the orchestra put its instruments to rest, she looked down at the paper in front of her but dared not hold it up.
“Why do I have the feeling she is going to recite what’s been assigned for her to say?” Riley crossed her arms and observed the ceremony with amusement.
Mathew laughed and shook his head.
“King Christopher, son of Caroline Freedian.” She looked at the paper and stopped for a moment. The names of his two sons and his wife were written but she skipped them. “His reign started from the year 2220 until the year 2240, our time. Labour’s League was formed, and the sound of the people was heard.”
“Bullshit,” murmured Mathew.
“He ruled with love and passion for the country of Regitum, for Noteram and all the other continents of the East. Whether it was Silvarest, Opesam, or Messis, our late father ruled with patriotism, passion for peace, and the love of his people. He might not have been kind to some because he believed in justice.”
“He believed in murdering people who opposed him instead of listening to them,” Riley added in a low voice that was lost in the mass of murmurs.
“It is with great sorrow that we stand here today to bid farewell to one of the most loved kings of our era; however, sure enough his spirit remains with us today and for as long as Regitum and Noteram will stand tall amongst any opposition, amongst any war, amongst any challenge. All hail King Christopher Freedian, for his soul shall never die!”
“All hail King Christopher! All hail King Christopher!”
The voices were rising in harmony like an enchanting melody. It left all the present citizens infected by the need to hail a failure of a king. He was dead, gone, and never coming back. Even then, he received the glory he did not deserve, thought Riley.
Numerous heads blocked half of the view from where she was standing. Mothers were holding their babies in their arms and crying along with everyone All hail King Christopher! They could not care less if their children were crying; they were entranced with the chants enough to forget anything that tried to distract them.
Riley was tracking everyone around her to keep herself busy. She felt the need to hail the king as well, but she did not want to and a voice at the back of her mind told her: stay focused, this is unnecessary. Her eyes drifted back and forth between the immobile bodies of the masses, letting the setting sun reflect their gloomy faces. Drifting between them was a man. He was one of the few who did not pour their focus on those empty prepared speeches of the Assembly. Their words were drowning, along with the fading sound of the drum.
“Glorious king Christopher…”
“Protector of Noteram, ruler of the East…”
“Father of the realm…”
“Our leader…”
The people lowly repeated the words as the speeches kept coming and going in waves. The eyes of the lion, reflected on the gigantic screens surrounding the square, were following each and every one.
Riley looked over at Mathew who was repeating the words as well. She was compelled… compelled to glorify the passing king. There would be no other like him. He was the reason they were alive; they were free. He was the reason she was capable of retaining the profit of the circus for herself. He knew of her dark secrets. He knew everything and did not stop her. For that, she should be grateful—
No. He knew about her secrets and used that knowledge. He wanted her to be his pawn, to satisfy his desires, to be a mere body that worke
d for nothing but his own pleasure. Little did he know that body of hers was her weapon, the dagger with which she would infiltrate the dirty blood. Little did he know that she was the puppeteer.
Riley blinked several times before focusing back on the moving man. He was wearing a black coat and a black hat hovering over his eyes. She frowned and moved away from the ones who blocked her so she could get a good look at him. He seemed oddly familiar with the tousled hair sneaking under the hat and his broad shoulders. For a moment, his head turned a safe distance away from her. Gabriel’s smile dashed stopping her in place.
“My good people of Noteram,” Jonathan woke her up from the chase. Everything was suddenly soundless, and the man disappeared. She could not discern if what she had done was a figment of her imagination, or if it were the real Gabriel she was after.
“The people that roar through the tongue of the lion, that soar like an eagle in the sky of an ancient culture, spurned by those who desire our glory, an inspiration to those who live by it. I stand here today not to add to what has already been said about the king.
“With all due respect to the Assembly, they had known him to be a true leader. However, being his courtier for so many years, being raised in the kingdom of Regitum on the hands of the most inspiring men that had lived, that had ruled Noteram and the East as well, I dare say, he was more than a king to me. He was an idol, someone to look up to.” His look was genuine as if he were truly grieving the loss.
“His valiance and wisdom are no matter to doubt. Let no lie created by the jealous tongue be hung by the pictures of our king in your homes tonight.
“I prithee, let us take a minute of silence to honour the endless tales of our king’s bravery that are to be told in history for the generations to come.”
A moment of silence fell over the square. Everyone shut their eyes and remained quiet. When one minute had passed, Jonathan looked back at his people and all ears were lent back to him.
“When I was learning how to fight in my youngest years, I can recall that he came to me and held the pointy little sword. ‘This is not a sword to vanquish your enemies,’ he had said. ‘This sword is to protect yourself and your nation from traitors. It is not to inflict pain, it is to prevent yourself from feeling it.’ I could not reckon in a lifetime I could find a leader of our age to be that selfless, to reject greed. Come hither, my fellow people, let us keep the memory of King Christopher Freedian alive, breathing in our children, in our sense of belonging to Regitum.
Red Circus Page 14