Read The Borribles: Across the Dark Metropolis Online

Authors: Michael de Larrabeiti

Tags: #Juvenile Fiction, #Fantasy & Magic

The Borribles: Across the Dark Metropolis (7 page)

BOOK: The Borribles: Across the Dark Metropolis
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‘Aha,’ he said, slapping his leg with his stick, ‘got some more chums, eh? Good. Ever been to Buffoni’s before?’
The Adventurers shook their heads but said nothing.
‘Thought not. You can all come tonight, for free. You can see to it, Ninch. Never fill the seats, not this weather we won’t. Don’t be late now, seven thirty, sharp.’ And with a cheery wave of his hand Signor Buffoni strode away and climbed the steps to his caravan.
For the rest of the day the Adventurers were left to their own devices. The acrobats were busy helping the Buffonis to prepare for the evening’s performance in the big top, and they had also to make sure that all was ready for their own sideshow which took place afterwards.
The Borribles were quite happy with this arrangement. Sydney borrowed a curry-comb and worked until Sam was as well groomed as he possibly could be, and her companions went their own separate ways; some dozing in the warmth of the acrobats’ caravan, some drinking tea and chatting in the tent, the remainder strolling among the workers and sightseers.
‘You know what?’ said Twilight lazily at some point during the afternoon. ‘If the rest of the trip is like this it’ll be a doddle.’
‘Yeah,’ answered Vulge, ‘and it’s always dry until it pisses with rain.’
Slowly the hours passed. The weak daylight faded and the sky went dark. It was evening. Music echoed round the marquees and could be heard from miles away; six different melodies at once. The diesel generators shook and rumbled and kept the lights as bright as gold and as red as rubies. Every now and then the voice of Signor Buffoni boomed through a loudspeaker to announce the main attraction; ‘Roll up, roll up, don’t miss the greatest show on earth, in the big top at seven thirty. Roll up, roll up.’
The crowds grew thicker and thicker until they formed a solid mob of humanity that could only move in one direction at a time. The grass and cinders underfoot were churned into an ooze of mud and the music blared louder and the switchback turned faster and faster until its riders screamed with fear and excitement.
This excitement of speed and music conveyed itself to the Adventurers and they could barely wait for the performance to begin; all except Napoleon Boot of course. He was tense with something else—suspicion. He went to find Knocker and took him to one side so that they could talk together without being overheard. ‘That Ninch,’ said the Wendle, his face screwed up tight, ‘I haven’t seen him all afternoon, and I don’t like it.’
Knocker nodded. ‘Yes,’ he said, ‘I noticed it as well. Still, as the proverb says, “Don’t scratch where it don’t itch” They’ve been good to us … I don’t suppose there’s anything in it.’
‘Huh,’ said Napoleon, ‘there’s an old Wendle proverb too. “Anyone who’s that good can’t be that good.” That’s my favourite, that is.’
In spite of all these suspicions Napoleon met his friends at the entrance to the big top and there at last he saw Ninch, standing next to one of the circus men and dressed in bright orange trousers, shoes like barges and sporting a big red nose. Under his arm he held a large bundle of programmes and he gave one to every member of the audience as they entered the tent to take their places. When Napoleon asked the acrobat where he had been all afternoon he just smiled and wiped his forehead with the back of his hand in a mime of exhaustion.
‘I haven’t stopped all day,’ he said. ‘Old Buffoni has had me running here, there and everywhere.’
Napoleon accepted this explanation for the time being and passed, with the rest of the Adventurers, into the tent and they were shown to the bench that had been reserved for them in the front row. The audience was increasing minute by minute and notwithstanding what Signor Buffoni had said earlier in the day there was hardly a spare seat to be seen. The noise in the big top grew and in a little while the house lights dimmed and Signor Buffoni himself appeared in a blazing circle of silver light looking gorgeous in a red coat, a bejewelled cummerbund and a black top hat. He carried an enormous whip too and called for silence by cracking it loudly above his head.
‘Mee-yer Lorse, Ladies and Gennermen,’ he called, his voice resounding all over the tent without benefit of microphone, ‘pray be welcome to the ge-reatest show on earth, the Buffoni Circus, Fairground and Menagerie. And-er neow, first tonight, for your pleasure and delectation, Buffoni’s er-circus-a proudly preesents … the wild
horses of the Rushan Steppes. Er-h-until a few short months ago these ’ere’ orses were roaming free in the boundless wastes of Haysha. They ’ave been er-ber-rought ’ ere at treemendous hexpense and personally trained by the Magnificent and Marvellous Mazeppa Buffoni and his er-loverly wife, Caterina. Mee-yer Lorse, Ladies and Gennermen, The Magnificent Mazeppa and Caterina.’
At this Signor Buffoni cracked his whip, the lights went out and when they came on again, a second or two later, the ringmaster had disappeared and three horses, two grey and one black, were tearing round the circus ring. Running behind them were a young man and woman dressed in ballet costumes liberally sprinkled with spangles and sequins.
It took hardly any time at all for Mazeppa and Caterina to catch up with the horses, and when they did they jumped upon their backs, performing handstands and leaping from one animal to another at breathtaking speed. At the very last, just to outdo what had gone before, and while still mounted, Caterina stood on her partner’s shoulders and faced backwards, waving and smiling. The Borribles and the rest of the audience were spellbound.
Soon the act was over and to an enormous burst of applause the horses disappeared and once again Signor Buffoni took his position at the centre of the ring.
‘Er-ran-neow, mee Lorse, Ladies and Gennermen, at no small hexpense Buffoni’s circus would like to er-present for your pleasure, Amurishi Patadi and a fearsome tiger as was h-onlee per-rowling the luxuriant rain forests of hunhexplored Bengawl h-onlee two weeks h-ago. Mee Lorse, Ladies and Gennermen … Tanka the Tiger.’
The audience made not a single sound as the lights changed colour and half a dozen clowns pushed a huge cage into the centre of the ring. Arthur Buffoni followed, carrying a small whip and looking like a maharajah with his face properly stained to the hue of strong coffee and his head crowned with a jewel-studded turban.
Arthur bowed to the audience and then began to circle the cage on tiptoe as if approaching a desperate and starving maneater. He kept about six feet from the bars most of the time but occasionally he leapt closer, cracking his whip and then immediately leaping backwards to safety. It didn’t look very dangerous and Tanka meanwhile lay unperturbed
on the floor of the cage with one eye only watching the audience; the other was firmly closed.
The loudspeakers crackled next and Signor Buffoni spoke from somewhere backstage: ‘Mee Lorse, Ladies and Gennermen, I have to point out of course that these Bengawli tigers are at their most dangerous and lethal when they h-appear to be at their most somnolent. We beg the h-audience not to be h-alarmed. All precautions will be taken.’
The sound of the loudspeakers died away and two men in white overalls appeared, both of them carrying rifles, and they went to stand near the bars of the cage. Slowly, to a roll of drums, Arthur opened the cage door and each member of the audience could hear his or her heart thumping. Arthur next seized a chair and poked Tanka with it as he entered the cage. The audience gasped. Then Arthur cracked his whip and with a roar Tanka got to her feet and clambered on to a pedestal, raised a paw and roared again. There was rapturous applause and in response to it Arthur Buffoni did the bravest thing of all and prodded the animal with his whip and insolently turned his back on her, kneeling on the floor.
The audience went delirious but Arthur had not finished with them. He got to his feet and, as a finale, placed both arms around Tanka’s neck and kissed the tiger right on the nose. The audience cheered and cheered like madmen but then fell silent in fear as the maneater suddenly bared her teeth and growled with anger. The two men in white overalls cocked their guns and Arthur crept backwards to the door of the cage, slipped through and clanged it shut behind him, securing the lock with a large key which he afterwards placed in his pocket. Smiling, he bowed low several times towards the rear of the tent and wallowed in the generous sound of hundreds of hands clapping. ‘Hooray!’ shouted the children. ‘Bravo!’ bawled their parents. ‘More, more,’ screamed the Adventurers.
After Tanka and Arthur the acts came thick and fast. There were so many that the Borribles could not keep count; and all of them Buffonis. There was Wanda on her one-wheeled bike; Marco the Strong Man with a moustache that looked like a coiled spring; and there was Marmaduke Buffoni too, defying gravity on a high wire.
‘You’ve got to hand it to them,’ said Stonks, ‘when you think that
it’s all the same people doubling up most of the time. You wouldn’t know unless you knew, would you?’
The interval came all too soon and the Borribles relaxed. The house lights were brought up again and from backstage out rushed six or seven clowns to entertain the audience while it ate ice cream and hot dogs. The clowns were big men, acrobats and tumblers all, and threw each other across the ring, fell over, drove a broken car and sprayed themselves with coloured water from a hosepipe. Everybody watching was helpless—rolling in their seats and holding their sides with the pain of laughter.
‘Whatever else you say about this circus,’ said Bingo, the tears streaming down his face, ‘they certainly make you laugh; I can’t stop … And look, there’s more coming.’
It was true. About a dozen men, dressed as clowns, were coming through the wall of canvas and slipping into the circus ring. But they stood separate from the original clowns and took no part in their hilarious routine. Their make-up was different too. Although they were wearing red noses their faces were all white and their mouths were huge gashes of blue, pointing downwards in expressions of sadness and misery.
The first group of clowns seemed puzzled by these new arrivals and gradually their act faltered and then stopped altogether. They huddled in a group and talked; they looked frightened.
‘It’s all part of the act,’ said Chalotte. ‘They’ll be having a fight in a minute, I bet.’
‘Hang about,’ said Napoleon. He half rose to his feet and glanced behind him. ‘I don’t like this. Look behind you, there’s more coming in from the back.’
Bingo twisted in his seat, still laughing. He counted; there were too many. ‘This circus ain’t got that many clowns,’ he said, and his laughter dried like a gob of spit in brickdust.
Knocker sprang to his feet and climbed into the ring. His catapult was in his hand and he loaded it. ‘Dammit,’ he swore. ‘They’ve got sticks and look at their boots. It’s the coppers. Somebody’s grassed. We’re surrounded.’
There were policemen almost everywhere in the tent now; a long
line of them at the back of the ring and several groups advancing in the aisles between the rows of seats. The audience laughed. For them it was all part of the circus, a great battle between the clowns.
‘Catapults,’ shouted Knocker, and he fired straight at a large policeman, hitting him in the stomach. The policeman grabbed at his midriff and fell to the floor.
‘Come on,’ shouted Chalotte, ‘into the ring. Aim for the lights, it’s our only chance.’
Chalotte’s idea was a good one. The Adventurers gathered together next to Knocker and the light bulbs above their heads began to shatter as they aimed and fired. The big top grew darker and the laughter of the audience died away as glass fragments began to shower on their heads.
There was a roar from the policemen. ‘Borribles,’ they cried. ‘Stop those Borribles, get ’em.’
Now the audience raised their voices in terror and the adults clasped their children tightly in their arms so that the policemen would make no mistake and drag them away. ‘Borribles,’ they said to one another, their voices brittle with fear. ‘Those kids are Borribles.’
Chalotte was fighting back to back with Knocker. She aimed a stone at the main and central light. She was one of the best with a catapult and she made no mistake this time. There was an explosion and the tent was plunged into darkness. The audience screamed louder than ever and the children wept.
‘Don’t let ’em get away,’ roared a voice and it was a voice that sent shivers down the spine of every Borrible there. It was the voice of Sergeant Hanks and where Hanks went Sussworth was not far behind. ‘Don’t let them get away; they’re dangerous Borribles.’
Sergeant Hanks had expected perhaps to help his cause by enlisting the aid of the audience but things didn’t work out that way. The cry of ‘Borribles’ was taken up on all sides by the spectators, sure enough, but they panicked and, snatching up their children, they leapt to their feet and began to push their way towards the exits. This confusion assisted the Adventurers for a while. It meant that the policemen, trying to reach their prey from the back of the tent, could not advance against the mass of people trying to leave. All the Borribles had to do now was
to evade the policemen actually in the circus ring, get under the canvas and escape into the crowds outside.
This was easier said than done. In the circus ring all was mayhem. Inspector Sussworth, with the intention of keeping the SBG raid totally secret, had not bothered to tell Signor Buffoni or any other of the circus people what he had in fact planned. Consequently the clowns in the ring, the real clowns, once they had recovered from their initial surprise, became very very angry. As far as they were concerned a group of unidentified men, dressed as clowns, had broken into the circus and ruined their performance just when it had been going well. For all they knew they had been attacked by their deadly rivals in the circus trade, Bernardo Mattamori and Sons. Such things had happened before.
BOOK: The Borribles: Across the Dark Metropolis
8Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
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