Lionboy Part 14

Maccomo gave himself a little shake and was calm again. "You will be my translator, little boy. We will make the finest lionshow the world has ever seen. And it starts tonight." He narrowed his eyes a little. "I did not believe for a while that you had this thing," he said, "or I would have started work sooner with you. But when I saw you this afternoon, calling to that alleycat by the ca.n.a.l . . . well. Tomorrow-we will come up with something fabulous for tomorrow. Or after tomorrow. I have plans, little Lionboy. We can . . . we can . . . oh-and after the show, you will put the lions to bed. I'm going out."

His eyes were gleaming, and Charlie knew in that moment that Maccomo had received the message from Mabel. The message not from Mabel. And he knew that whether or not Mabel went to Chez Billy after the show, Maccomo would go, and that was all that Charlie needed.

And with that knowledge, Charlie didn't care what Maccomo thought. After all, after tomorrow night, they wouldn't be here.

"Okay," he said, very quietly.

"So tell him," said Maccomo with a little smile.

Charlie looked up at him nervously. "What?"

"Any reason why not?"

Charlie was silent. It felt very peculiar, after hiding from Maccomo so long, and hiding the fact that he could speak to cats for so long, to be suddenly ordered to talk in this way.

He couldn't, just couldn't, admit his ability to Maccomo. Everything in him shrieked "No!" But he had to do something.

He swallowed, and then he went over to the young lion and spoke, very quietly so that Maccomo would not see or hear him, into the lion's ear.

Then, "Young lion," he said, in English.

The young lion did not respond. He didn't even flicker a whisker.

"Young lion," Charlie said, "Monsieur Maccomo believes I can talk to you. I don't know what to do-how to show him it's a crazy idea. Anyway, he said to tell you I'm supposed to ride you in the parade this evening. I, er . . ."

"Speak Lion, boy!" shouted Maccomo. "Don't try to make a fool of me!" He was rubbing his temple. Charlie hoped he still had a headache.

"Er, roarrr!" said Charlie. "Meow, roaarrr-I can't, sir! I don't know what you want from me!" He tried to look as if he were about to burst into tears.

The young lion yawned, and covered his nose with his paw.

Maccomo was watching them intently.

"And?" he said.

"And what?" said Charlie, trying not to let it sound rude.

"And what did he say?"

"Mr. Maccomo, sir," said Charlie desperately, "I don't know what-I can't talk to lions, sir! Why would I? How could I?"

"You can," said Maccomo shortly. He fingered his rhinoceros-skin whip. "And you are going to teach me."

At that moment, Charlie became heartily glad that he was leaving the circus, and realized that he would have no regrets at all.

Of course, the moment Maccomo left the chamber, Charlie and the lions had a great deal to say to one another: on the urgency of their having to leave, on going directly to the station to get the train to Venice, on whether Sergei would reappear before they left, and on the precise plans.

"The people will leave after the show from the gangplank amids.h.i.+p," said Charlie. "The one opposite the grand staircase. Everybody will be up there, or below, cleaning up. Now, if we come out of this chamber and immediately cut around behind it, we can leave the s.h.i.+p by the stern."

"How do you suggest we get ash.o.r.e?" asked the oldest lion. Now that he was back in form, the young lion was far less chatty. The lionesses still just stared and lounged around. Charlie had no idea what was going on in their heads, but he was beginning to suspect that maybe a great deal was, and they just weren't letting on.

"I've been thinking about that," he said respectfully. "And knowing your great physical skills and circus experience, I was wondering whether . . . whether you would be able to walk the rope that attaches the s.h.i.+p to the quayside. It's not very far, I checked, and the rope is tight . . ."

The yellow lioness flicked her whiskers.

"You want us to walk the tightrope?" said the oldest lion with a note of amus.e.m.e.nt in his voice.

"Yes, sir," said Charlie. "If-if it's not too . . ." He meant to say something about "if it's not too undignified," but it seemed disrespectful even to mention the lions' dignity.

The oldest lion gave what would from anybody else be a little giggle. "I imagine we can do it," he said. He looked around at the others. His mane was thicker, his eyes brighter, the black of his lips s.h.i.+nier than before. He was better. The lionesses yawned disdainfully, and the younger lions just raised their elegant lion eyebrows and twitched their whiskers back and then forward again. Walking a little bit of tightrope was not the slightest problem to them.

"Excellent," said Charlie. "Then, once on the quayside, just follow me down the towpath to the river, across the bridge to the station, and we'll find the train. It'll be dark, and late. There'll be no one on the towpath or by the riverbanks, and it's hardly lit anyway. The bridge'll be the risky bit, but again, it should be empty by then . . ."

His heart sank. Look at them! They're huge! How was he going to get six lions across a bridge in the center of a city without being seen, even in the middle of the night? Yikes! He hoped everybody in Paris would be drunk, or in bed-or at the circus.

"Then at the station, I've thought about that, if we come in on the tracks rather than the platforms, we shouldn't see anybody, but we'll still reach the train. If we lose each other, we can make our own way . . . and we've got an hour to get over there, before it leaves at half past midnight. Most of the pa.s.sengers will already be on board, because it opens at ten so they can go to bed early and all that . . ." He ground to a halt.

"And have you booked our seats? Isn't that what humans do?" said the oldest lion with a smile.

"No, sir," said Charlie, worried for a moment, before he realized the lion was teasing him. "No, sir," he said again, smiling, "but I have got a plan for where we'll travel . . ."

And Charlie and the lions talked, softly, late into the night, finalizing their plans.

The plan was full of pitfalls. Charlie was terrified.

CHAPTER 15.

Charlie led the circus parade that evening.

When, at Maccomo's insistence, he had pretended to try to get on the young lion's back, the young lion had turned around and swiped at him viciously, leaving a great scratch down the side of his face. It hurt a lot (later the lion had apologized-he hadn't meant to do it so hard), but it put Maccomo off-for the moment-and that was what mattered.

So instead, clad in red velvet, gold braid, and black boots that shone like polished licorice, Charlie walked beside the lions, who were tethered with heavy, heavy chains to a great metal bar that rolled behind them. Ringboys danced ahead to clear the way, and the rest of the circus gave them plenty of room behind. The crowds gasped and flinched when they saw the six great beasts and the brown boy walking among them.

They led the entire circus along the riverbank past the island with the great cathedral of Notre Dame where the hunchback lived, down the Rue de Rivoli past the Tuilerie Gardens to the Place de la Concorde, down the Champs Elysees to the Arc de Triomphe, and then back again, followed by the zebras and the horses, the Learned Pig pulling the twins in a little chariot, the Hungarian wearing his performing bees as a beard, the dancing girls and the bearded lady, Pirouette and the cowboys and Major Tib on his fancy black stallion, the Lucidi family turning somersaults and cartwheels, and the band in their pale blue suits playing all the show tunes and marches in their repertoire, drums rolling and saxophones parping and glinting in the sun. They all called out and sang and handed out fliers. They were pretty tired when they got back to the s.h.i.+p, but as Major Tib said in his speech when they returned, "Now everybody in Paris knows we're here, and they'll come, and they'll all bring their friends."

Then, when everyone went to bed, Charlie tried again to go out and check the route to the station-but again Maccomo called him back.

"I'm tense, boy," he said. "I've been throwing up. Ma.s.sage my neck." So Charlie had to rub Maccomo's strong, wiry neck and shoulders.

Everyone was tense. Tomorrow, the Premiere, the Big One, the first night. Excitement and antic.i.p.ation roiled and coiled around the s.h.i.+p like vines, like smoke. Tomorrow, at last, they'd be doing the Show.

Charlie was tense too. But he knew what he had to do, and that made him calm. And in the meantime, despite everything-Rafi, his parents, Maccomo, the Allergenies, the imminent escape-he was really, really looking forward to seeing the Show.

Because he had never seen the Show before, Charlie was allowed by Major Tib to join the ringboys, who crouched right at the ringside, at the bottom of the aisles, ready to jump up and clear up between acts. Of course when the lions came on, Charlie would have his own work to do, but in the meantime he could just squat down there and watch.

First came the audience. What a crowd! They came rolling down the cobbled ramp from the Place de la Bastille to the quayside, and they were glorious: sw.a.n.ky ladies in big skirts, fat men in white waistcoats with sashes and medals, dangerous-looking fellows in long dark coats and high boots, children and mothers and fathers, skaters and punks, tough-looking big boys in worn leather pants, a gaggle of beautiful young girls carrying balloons and flowers and presents, laughing and obviously celebrating something, red-faced people up from the country, soldiers, a priest. They were of all colors, and spoke all languages: Some Charlie recognized-English and French of course, and some Arabic-but others might have come from Mars. Charlie peered around, looking for a lady who might be a tiger trainer, who even if she wasn't actually wearing white leather looked as if she might, but no one stood out.

The Imperial Amba.s.sador's party had taken over the Great Box, and were the grandest and sharpest of all. Major Tib was up there with them, shaking their hands and clicking his heels and kissing the hands of the ladies. With the Calliope creaking away (luckily it was not so noisy inside the s.h.i.+p) and the gabbling of the crowd as they settled into their seats, the smell of the fresh sawdust from the ring, and the gentle glow of the yellow lights s.h.i.+ning down, Charlie wished that he had no troubles-that he could just be an excited kid at a circus.

The music from the Calliope was fading now, and the chattering of the crowd faded too. The lights began to dim and a hush fell over the ring, over the ranks of people looking down on it and over the performers waiting beyond the curtains for their moment to come on and dazzle the crowd.

As darkness fell in the big top, there was a long moment of silence. The audience seemed to breathe as one in the dark.

Then a drumroll broke out, loud and bright: Trumdada Trumdada dumdada dumdada DUMDUMDUM.

dada DUM DUM DUM!.

At the exact moment that the band broke into a gay gallop, swirling, sweeping spotlights in different colors appeared way up above and cast their rays around the ring, garlands and paper streamers fell from the roof in twirls of color and a troupe of scarlet-and yellow-clad tumblers began to leap and vault from the four entrances of the ring into the center. One by one they hurtled in from different directions, lit by the spotlights, bouncing off their hidden springboards and somersaulting onto the mattresses in the middle. They missed one another by inches, it seemed, then leaped up, bowing and grinning, and ran back into the shadows at the edge of the ring to come bouncing in again. Some beautiful piebald ponies were brought in, and the tumblers bounced right over them, landing safe as cats, arching their bodies and flinging their arms back in delight at their own skill.

As the acrobats took their bows, bending in the middle and dropping their heads to their knees, or doing splits as if they were pieces of rubber, Major Tib came striding into the ring in a bright spotlight of his own, gorgeously costumed in a midnight blue tailcoat with s.h.i.+ning gold b.u.t.tons, white buckskin breeches, and black leather riding boots. He was holding his long elegant whip, and in ringing tones he proclaimed: "Ladies and gentlemen, meine damen und herren, mesdames et messieurs, meine damen und herren, mesdames et messieurs, welcome to Thibaudet's Royal Floating Circus and Equestrian Philharmonic Academy, the Show of Shows, the Night of Nights: Tonight for your education, your delectation, your temporary perturbation, and your ultimate satisfaction we have the pleasure, the honor, the unparalleled ardor to bring you the show you have all been waiting for . . ." welcome to Thibaudet's Royal Floating Circus and Equestrian Philharmonic Academy, the Show of Shows, the Night of Nights: Tonight for your education, your delectation, your temporary perturbation, and your ultimate satisfaction we have the pleasure, the honor, the unparalleled ardor to bring you the show you have all been waiting for . . ."

His honeyed voice was as fine and round as a bell. He told the crowd what acts would appear, and how fabulous they would be, he cracked his whip, he blew his whistle, he threw back his manly shoulders and twirled his das.h.i.+ng mustache, and all the men in the audience rather wished they were a bit more like Major Thibaudet, while all the ladies in the audience rather wished their boyfriends and husbands were. Charlie could see that the ringboys meanwhile were sweeping up the streamers and garlands, and pulling the leapers' mattresses out of the ring, in the darkness, while from the spotlight Major Tib extolled the magnificence of the show that was about to start.

It began with twelve zebras waltzing in rows of three to a beautiful tune called "Zizu's Waltz," their plump little bodies glossy and fat, and their strangely ancient-looking heads adorned with black and white plumes. They bent their striped knees, to-ing and fro-ing, making the prettiest striped black-and-white patterns as they crossed and recrossed one another. Then the lighting changed color, which changed the color of their white stripes, and they made pink patterns, then blue, then green, and then a mist slid out over the ring from the dry ice machines, and the zebras arranged themselves in a circle, all facing inward, bowed to one another, and carefully lay down as the mist rose up to cover them, for all the world as if they were going to sleep, and the beautiful sad tune was taken up by a lonely saxophone.

The lights turned to the inside of the great striped roof of the big top. Snow was falling from the roof-but going up too-swirling-only it wasn't snow, the flakes were too big: It was fluttering doves, all different colors. And rose petals. Falling and floating. Everyone gazed, entranced, as the doves and petals swirled and settled around the sleeping zebras.

Not even Charlie had noticed what was going on meanwhile up in the flies: The wireguys had been preparing the next act, which Major Tib came back out to introduce.

"Ladeeeez and gentlemen," he roared, "tonight, ce soir, ce soir, here in Paris at Thibaudet's Royal Floating Circus and Equestrian Philharmonic Academy you are about to witness the wonderful, you are about to experience the exceptional, you are about to be implicated in the impossible, for tonight, here in Paris at Thibaudet's Royal Floating Circus and Equestrian Philharmonic Academy you are about to witness the wonderful, you are about to experience the exceptional, you are about to be implicated in the impossible, for tonight, mesdames et messieurs, mesdames et messieurs, we have with us for your amus.e.m.e.nt and astoundment the one, the only, the world-famous, unique and irreplaceable Devil of the Air, el Diablo Aero, we have with us for your amus.e.m.e.nt and astoundment the one, the only, the world-famous, unique and irreplaceable Devil of the Air, el Diablo Aero, funambuliste extraordinaire, funambuliste extraordinaire, the man who can live his entire life on a wire as thin as your neckchain, madam"-here he gestured magnificently to a lady in the front row-"and as high as the regard in which the Imperial Amba.s.sador holds his wife"-here he gestured magnificently toward the Great Box, and carried on without taking a breath. "In short, ladeeeeeeeez and gentlemen, without further ado, I give you-el Diablo Aero!" the man who can live his entire life on a wire as thin as your neckchain, madam"-here he gestured magnificently to a lady in the front row-"and as high as the regard in which the Imperial Amba.s.sador holds his wife"-here he gestured magnificently toward the Great Box, and carried on without taking a breath. "In short, ladeeeeeeeez and gentlemen, without further ado, I give you-el Diablo Aero!"

Way up in the big top the wire was stretched taut as a guitar string across the expanse of empty s.p.a.ce, and at one end there was Aero, looking quite superb in a silver leotard with silver legs, holding his long, drooping balancing pole, and pointing one of his toes with inexpressible elegance.

First he just stood there for a while, looking fabulous. Then he ran along the wire, just to show it who was boss. Then he danced along it, hopping and skipping, and he kicked off his shoes. Then two girls came out to join him, also in silver leotards: the twins! They tied a blindfold around his head, and blindfolded, he trotted across the wire. Then he put the twins in a wheelbarrow and wheeled them across. Then he got out a little stove and cooked an omelet up there, flicking it like a pancake; then they made a big hoo-ha of inviting a fellow up from the audience. In fact, one of the Imperial Amba.s.sador's party was very keen to come, so he was helped into the ring, trying to look tough and confident, and then he climbed up the rope ladder to the flies, and then when he reached the platform, el Diablo Aero had a word with him, then lifted him up on his back, and carefully, gently carried him piggyback over the high wire to the tiny platform on the other side. Charlie was consumed with envy.

But now what?! Instead of bringing him back again, el Diablo had scampered back across the high wire, leaving the fellow stranded! There were no rope ladders on the other side; indeed there was no way down . . . El Diablo and the twins were laughing, but goodness knows what the Imperial Amba.s.sador's guest thought. Charlie bit his knuckle.

El Diablo was gesturing to the man to walk back across, but the fellow, seemingly in good humor, was shaking his head and gesturing "no way." El Diablo beckoned to his reluctant guest, but he would not be moved. Finally he took hold of a violin and began to play a sad and beautiful tune, full of minor chords crunched against one another like the beating of a broken heart. Indeed he played so tragically that people nearly forgot he was standing on a high wire way, way up in the air, trying to tempt a member of the audience to walk the wire himself.

Even danger itself is dazzled by how beautiful and clever the circusguys are, thought Charlie, and so it forgets to knock them down, or break their necks, or have a tiger bite their heads off.

By now a clown had entered the ring, imitating el Diablo Aero: Julius's dad! There he was, elegant in whiteface, Pierrot clothes, and a mischievous manner. He was playing his gigantic fiddle behind his back, doing somersaults with it, playing it between his legs-then running up to the top of a ten-foot ladder to play a duet with Aero, still up on his high wire trying to lure the man across.

By the time they were all down in the ring again, the music had turned bright and parping, and suddenly Bikabhai and the monkeys came in on bicycles. They were all wearing beautiful, white silky pajamas and white turbans with a peac.o.c.k feather attached by a jewel at the front, and their bicycles were peac.o.c.k blue. They did somersaults and carried one another around, waving parasols and pretending to smoke pipes. They picked up the rose petals from the ground and gave them to Bikabhai, and then to members of the audience, and then two of them got in an argument and began eating the roses.

The clowns were still acting foolish like n.o.body's business. "Here we are again, all of a lump!" they cried. "How are you?" Major Tib came in after them: "If you please, Major Tib," said one of the fat ones, "he says that you said that I said that they said that n.o.body had said nothing to n.o.body!" Julius's dad had meanwhile set up a tiny little high wire and had rats running along it, dancing, and stopping to eat the chocolates he was feeding them. "Who needs to cook?" he was saying. "Cooking's fancy. Cooking's showing off." And he gave one of the rats his cell phone and said it was calling for takeout, and then he was trying to invite one of the ladies from the audience to join him for dinner, paying her extravagant compliments.

When it's not being dangerous, it's just silly, Charlie thought. What a funny mixture. And then in a rush he remembered that this, the rats on the high wire, was his cue. He leaped to his feet, heart pumping like a piston, and, feeling proud and glad, he vaulted into the ring. He knew exactly what to do, and so like a professional he began to pull the polished levers and wind the well-worn handles that would bring down the ring cage, for the next act was Maccomo and the lions.

Charlie had wondered how he would feel about watching the lions perform. He knew what they would do-he'd seen it often enough in rehearsal. But it would be different to see them do it in front of a crowd, as if it were all they could do, and as if Maccomo were incredibly brave and clever to have "taught" them to roll on the floor, and let him pick up their paws, and to roar when he told them to. As if they weren't really incredibly much cleverer than this and only humoring Maccomo because he fed them-and because he had fed them drugs, more to the point. Charlie had thought he would find the whole thing a bit humiliating for them, and a bit embarra.s.sing.

But he didn't-far from it. He was enchanted by how strong and graceful his friends were as they entered the ring, staring down their snooty noses, and as they leaped around the ring. Maccomo looked wonderfully stern and brave in his long African robe with his rhino whip, taking the lions by the paws and making them roar, throwing their strong bodies down on the ground and lying on them. When he turned his back on the young lion for a moment, Charlie genuinely feared for his safety; when he harnessed the old lion to a small chariot, and stepped into it to drive him, for a moment Charlie feared even more, because he knew what Maccomo did not, that the old lion had regained his dignity and would not care for this humiliating treatment any longer. But the old lion had also regained his intelligence, and he knew that in order to escape later, he had to be obedient now, so he put up with it even though he hated it-all this Charlie could see in his beautiful old furry face.

Then the lions pretended to fight, and Maccomo separated them, to gasps and shrieks from the more nervous members of the audience, and finally the lionesses did a magnificently effective trick called the Bounce, which used to be done in the old days before there were ring cages. In those days, wagon cages had to be rolled into the ring, and the trainer would go inside the cage with the lions, and they would bounce around on the cage's walls, running up one wall and down the other and so on. Now the band broke into the special lion tune-"Esprit du Corp" by Sousa-and the lionesses leaped up the side of the ring cage, not holding on with their claws, but bouncing from cage to ground and up the wall of the cage again, like a kitten on the back of a sofa. The audience shrieked to have the great cats leap toward them, and to hear the metal rattle and shake as the great weight of the animals crashed against it, to hear the growls and see the lionesses' great paws and sleek creamy bellies-it was fantastic, it was terrifying, it was magnificent. It was the circus.

And then came the intermission. Charlie was mighty glad. Between being in the audience and being in the show, and being constantly, silently, nervously aware of what he had to do later, he was already exhausted and exhilarated and overwhelmed-and it was only halfway through. And after that-well, he couldn't think about afterward yet.

As soon as he had stowed the ring cage and helped Maccomo to settle the lions, he just had time to sit quietly for a moment or two on the deck, breathing deeply, watching the moon with her calming stare, and rea.s.suring himself that yes, that rope attached to the bow was the one down which they were going to run to avoid any crowds at the gangplank. And yes, they could get to the bridge quickly, and yes, it was all dimly lit, and the moon was not so big as to cast too much light, and yes, it was doable and they were going to do it. He wished he had been able to check the route all the way, but he had seen how the towpath led all the way to the river, so as long as they weren't spotted, how complicated could it be?

When Maccomo went to get himself a cup of coffee from the refreshment stand, Charlie got his bag from the ropelocker and made sure his few possessions were in there: the phones, the letter in blood, his medicine, his tiger, his knife, his mum's little ball of lapis lazuli . . . He looked at his phone. Ha ha, Rafi, he thought. You didn't know where I was. Did you? You didn't come and get me. He stowed as well the bits of food he had been saving from the last few meals and the packages of meat he had purloined for the lions. He just hoped it wouldn't leak in his bag. It was all quite heavy, but the lions could help carry.

He was very, very excited.

CHAPTER 16.

On his way back to the ring for the second half, Charlie saw Maccomo, who had showered and changed out of his circus robe into an exceptionally clean and well-ironed pair of stiff white African pajamas-up-and-downs, as Charlie's dad called them. He was on the grand staircase with a woman.

She had red hair piled up on her head and escaping in curls down the sides, and her skin was like a pearl. Charlie could easily imagine her in a white leather suit.

Mabel!

They seemed to be getting along just fine. Mabel was doing something with her eyes that Charlie thought might be what was called "batting her eyelashes"-he'd heard the phrase but he didn't think he'd ever seen it done before. It was rather nice actually. Charlie stared at her for a while. He wondered if they were going to go off now, before the show had ended. Would it matter if they did? He didn't know. Might they finish eating early and come back too soon?

On a whim, he rushed up to them.

"Good evening, Maccomo, sir," he said. "Good evening, madam." Maccomo looked at him as if he were insane.

"The show is so wonderful, isn't it? You must get back to your seats-you don't want to miss the second half. It's starting any minute. You should really be getting back, madam!" He grinned idiotically and sort of shepherded Mabel back toward the ring. Maccomo was confused. The old Maccomo would have responded immediately, sending Charlie off with a scolding, but this new, dopey Maccomo just sort of watched, and then followed as Mabel, with an amused look, allowed herself to be led back into the big top and toward her seat. No sign of a Hungarian in tall boots. Charlie smiled madly. Maccomo seemed to be going to sit with Mabel. Good. Mabel said, and her voice was low and beautiful: "Thank you so much. You're a considerate child."

Charlie thought it must be rather nice to be one of her tigers.

Once he was certain they were sitting down and staying put, he hurried around to the narrow, crowded back stairway to get back to his ringside position.

Once again the band fell silent.

Once again the big top fell dark.

Once again the drums rolled- And the spotlight fell on Major Tib, who-well, you know what he does by now, and he did it magnificently, of course, and then he leaped swiftly out of the way as Hans came prancing out with his little Learned Pig. First they did math: Hans would ask "What is five minus three?" and the Learned Pig would stamp his foot twice; Hans would say "What is two times two?" and the Learned Pig would stamp four times. "Stamp once for yes, and twice for no," said Hans. "Am I very clever?" The pig stamped twice. The audience laughed and laughed.

After a bit of this, Hans said: "So, Learned Pig, who is the most beautiful lady in the audience?" The Learned Pig immediately ran over to a smiling dark girl-one of the ones with the flowers and balloons-and bowed down in front of her. The girls giggled and whispered. They thought it very funny that the pig thought she was beautiful.

Someone else didn't find it funny, though: Julius's father, the clown, who had been quietly watching the math, was offended.