Read Online The Adventures of Mr. Maximillian Bacchus and His Travelling Circus by Clive Barker, David Niall Wilson, Richard A. Kirk - Free Book Online
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on its feet, then cheered, clapped and laughed ecstatically.
“You weren’t that good,” said Malachi to Hero. “I was, but you weren’t.”
“They weren’t cheering us,” said Hero.
“What then?” said the crocodile.
The audience was pointing up into the sky behind the stage.
Hardly daring to guess the cause of their emotion, the company turned and looked. The stars had risen. The moon had risen. And finally, Domingo de Ybarrondo the Clown had risen too, standing on his blue ball juggling the green oranges. He was singing, and pulling faces and dancing jubilantly. First he stood on one leg, then on one hand. He followed that by balancing the oranges on his nose, then on one finger, on his elbow and on his toes, and all the time the audience was clapping and cheering and the company was crying with happiness.
It was the most wonderful performance Domingo had ever given, and it was seen for hundreds of miles.
In faraway Cathay, the Astrologer to the Khan called Kublai, suspended in a balloon above the clouds that bailed about Xanadu, peered through his telescope in amazement at the new star that had appeared in the sky. In towns and villages, on the edge of untigered pine forests and in the silent snows of the Himalayas, on the high seas where trade winds roar and in the desert where the sand sings, people looked up at the sky that night, and there, between the stars and the moon, eclipsing Venus, Domingo was standing on his head and dancing and singing and juggling his green oranges. And when he finished and bowed deeply to the moon, stars, mountains, forests, seas and deserts, such a thunder of applause rose into the air that tears came into his eyes and ploughed salt-streams in the flour on his face.
At last Angelo climbed onto the back of Thoth and they flew up into the night sky to bring Domingo down to earth again. Unfortunately in the excitement, he forgot to bring down his blue ball and oranges.
In time they became a constellation.
Peering out of their burrows in the side of the world, the trolls saw the Clown ascend with the moon and stars, and covered their deep-set eyes with their fingers in mortal terror, scurrying deeper into the darkness, vowing never to set a sole on the flat earth again. Thereafter, they kept their hideous children to themselves, and taught them that if any troll were ever to climb on top of the world, they would meet a dreadful creature with a white face and a grin, standing on a blue ball, juggling stars.
Later, when Domingo had related his adventures over the World’s Edge a dozen times or more, Mr. Bacchus announced that it was time the Circus was on its way again.
The towns-people were sorry to see them go, and made Bacchus promise he would return.
“Only,” said Mr. Bacchus, “if you will plant that dreadful field with trees. A copse would be pleasant, a wood delightful and a forest magnificent.”
“It shall be done,” said the blacksmith.
“One other little problem,” said Bacchus. “Perhaps you could assist us.”
“Yes?” said the blacksmith.
“We seem to have mislaid the road to Cathay. Would you know of it?”
“Ah,” said the blacksmith. “Cathay. I have ridden to the border, but never beyond. They say it is sinking, and the fields are filling with water.”
“Then we better make haste,” said Mr. Bacchus. “Before the Flood.”
So the blacksmith put them on the road for Cathay, and in the caravan drawn by Thoth the Ibis-bird, Mr. Bacchus and his Travelling Circus set out once more for Xanadu and the court of the Khan called Kublai.
“In Xanadu did Kublai Khan
A stately pleasure-dome decree:
Where Alph, the sacred river, ran
Though caverns measureless to man
Down to sunless sea.”
Samuel Taylor Coleridge
This is the final story about Mr. Bacchus and his Travelling Circus, and the journey to Cathay in Asia the Deep, and it concerns how they finally reached that fabled
“You weren’t that good,” said Malachi to Hero. “I was, but you weren’t.”
“They weren’t cheering us,” said Hero.
“What then?” said the crocodile.
The audience was pointing up into the sky behind the stage.
Hardly daring to guess the cause of their emotion, the company turned and looked. The stars had risen. The moon had risen. And finally, Domingo de Ybarrondo the Clown had risen too, standing on his blue ball juggling the green oranges. He was singing, and pulling faces and dancing jubilantly. First he stood on one leg, then on one hand. He followed that by balancing the oranges on his nose, then on one finger, on his elbow and on his toes, and all the time the audience was clapping and cheering and the company was crying with happiness.
It was the most wonderful performance Domingo had ever given, and it was seen for hundreds of miles.
In faraway Cathay, the Astrologer to the Khan called Kublai, suspended in a balloon above the clouds that bailed about Xanadu, peered through his telescope in amazement at the new star that had appeared in the sky. In towns and villages, on the edge of untigered pine forests and in the silent snows of the Himalayas, on the high seas where trade winds roar and in the desert where the sand sings, people looked up at the sky that night, and there, between the stars and the moon, eclipsing Venus, Domingo was standing on his head and dancing and singing and juggling his green oranges. And when he finished and bowed deeply to the moon, stars, mountains, forests, seas and deserts, such a thunder of applause rose into the air that tears came into his eyes and ploughed salt-streams in the flour on his face.
At last Angelo climbed onto the back of Thoth and they flew up into the night sky to bring Domingo down to earth again. Unfortunately in the excitement, he forgot to bring down his blue ball and oranges.
In time they became a constellation.
Peering out of their burrows in the side of the world, the trolls saw the Clown ascend with the moon and stars, and covered their deep-set eyes with their fingers in mortal terror, scurrying deeper into the darkness, vowing never to set a sole on the flat earth again. Thereafter, they kept their hideous children to themselves, and taught them that if any troll were ever to climb on top of the world, they would meet a dreadful creature with a white face and a grin, standing on a blue ball, juggling stars.
Later, when Domingo had related his adventures over the World’s Edge a dozen times or more, Mr. Bacchus announced that it was time the Circus was on its way again.
The towns-people were sorry to see them go, and made Bacchus promise he would return.
“Only,” said Mr. Bacchus, “if you will plant that dreadful field with trees. A copse would be pleasant, a wood delightful and a forest magnificent.”
“It shall be done,” said the blacksmith.
“One other little problem,” said Bacchus. “Perhaps you could assist us.”
“Yes?” said the blacksmith.
“We seem to have mislaid the road to Cathay. Would you know of it?”
“Ah,” said the blacksmith. “Cathay. I have ridden to the border, but never beyond. They say it is sinking, and the fields are filling with water.”
“Then we better make haste,” said Mr. Bacchus. “Before the Flood.”
So the blacksmith put them on the road for Cathay, and in the caravan drawn by Thoth the Ibis-bird, Mr. Bacchus and his Travelling Circus set out once more for Xanadu and the court of the Khan called Kublai.
“In Xanadu did Kublai Khan
A stately pleasure-dome decree:
Where Alph, the sacred river, ran
Though caverns measureless to man
Down to sunless sea.”
Samuel Taylor Coleridge
This is the final story about Mr. Bacchus and his Travelling Circus, and the journey to Cathay in Asia the Deep, and it concerns how they finally reached that fabled
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