Free The Adventures of Mr. Maximillian Bacchus and His Travelling Circus by Clive Barker, David Niall Wilson, Richard A. Kirk Page A

court.”
    He clapped once, and seats were brought. The company sat down. A second time he clapped, and one by one the courtiers descended from the trees. As they leapt from the branches, the warm air filled their robes like silk balloons, and they slowly drifted to the ground. The first secretary announced their positions and names as their toes touched the floor, and each bowed reservedly before the company.
    Mr. Bacchus, for his part, insisted on shaking each of them warmly by the hand, which rather slowed the ceremony down. In fact, two hours later it was still proceeding, the courtiers descending, bowing and shaking hands. Finally, when each had been introduced, and returned to his tree, the Khan stood up, the folds of his robes grating as he did so.
    “And now,” he said. “The jewel of Xanadu. The greatest mystery. The finest splendour. The daughter.”
    At this announcement the courtiers began to shake the boughs of their trees, so that leaves cascaded in every direction, and from a silver birch, the Princess leapt. Her silks too, swelled like a ripe fruit around her as she drifted down to meet the floor. Her naked feet touched the cool mosaic and her rustling robes folded about her like moths’ wings. Everyone took a deep breath. It was as if the soul of the silver birch, dislodged in a windless autumn, had fallen from the branches, to walk among men.
    “Look at her,” whispered Hero, his eyes wide.
    The Princess stood before the company and curtsied to each in turn. Mr. Bacchus grinned and shook her hand; Ophelia curtsied and said, “Thank you ma’am,” because it was royalty. Hero bowed very low and looked at his feet. Domingo grinned and bowed extravagantly several times, and Bathsheba attempted a curtsey but somehow ended with her hands, legs and tail in a knot. When the Princess came to Angelo, however, he bowed and looked straight into her eyes. The leaves on the mosaic floor rustled in the breath of her sigh.
    Malachi, meanwhile, who was bowing, waiting for the Princess to come to him, coughed loudly, and began to sway. But Angelo and the Princess seemed to not hear. Then the Khan spoke, and they blinked as if waking from a dream within the dream of Xanadu.
    “Daughter,” said the Khan, his tone less friendly than before. “It is time these good gentlemen prepared their performance for us.”
    “Of course, father,” said the Princess, without looking at the Khan, and she dutifully took her place next to the throne. The Khan’s eyes were on Angelo when he said:
    “The Princess will never marry, for, in truth, she is not my daughter, but the daughter of my brother, Kuyuk.”
    Immediately a whisper ran through the branches of the court, as if some terrible secret was about to be imparted. But the great Khan stood up and the whispers were instantly silenced. His eyes scoured the throne-room and dared anyone to speak.
    “My brother,” he said deliberately, “is dead. And his daughter is in mourning for him. She will never marry.”
    Then he turned to Mr. Bacchus.
    “Tomorrow night,” he commanded. “your Circus will perform. Then you must leave Xanadu, before Death’s wings beat the walls to dust.” Then the gong struck, to signify that the audience was at an end, and Mr. Bacchus’ Circus was escorted in silence out of the throne-room, to the caravan, which had been driven from the first gate, through to the seventh.
     
    ****
     
    That night, though the fragment of the sun burned as bright as day over Xanadu, the company slept quite soundly. With the exception of Angelo. He walked around the seven walls at least three times, head bowed, hands in pockets. Once or twice, he sat in the shadows of a wall’s buttress, and played his pipe. In his mind’s eye he could see the Princess’ face, could see her leaping time and time again from the Birch tree, sighing.
    And to her sighs he added his own.
    At three in the endless morning the walls were suddenly alive with shouting figures, pointing up