Miranda the Great (7 page)

So Claudia, Lavinia, and Marcus hurried after Miranda, who was now running and jumping expertly over the rubble. "What senseless destruction!" groaned Marcus. "'
O temporal O mores!'
" he said, for he was a learned man. And when they reached the Colosseum and saw the new damage to it, again he groaned. "Ts!" he said. "Our glorious Colosseum!"

At the main entrance into the Colosseum, Miranda paused dramatically. She turned around to make sure the family was still there and then, imperiously, gave another beckoning nod. Next, with head held high and tail waving like a banner, she marched proudly through the archway. Claudia, Lavinia, and Marcus followed her in, and at the end of the arcade, in full view of the vast arena, they saw an astonishing spectacle. Even Miranda was astonished, for she had never seen this sight before either.

There, at the end of the arcade, was a pyramid of kittens! One large cat, silvery-looking, stood in front of the pyramid, which wobbled a little. Of course this was Punka, for she gave one of her matchless perpendicular leaps, straight up in the air and then straight down again, said "wah!" in her rasping, husky voice, and down came the kittens, dissolving the pyramid.

"
Io!
" said the big cats. "
Io!
Hurrah!" They said it over and over, and Miranda said "woe-woe!" which sounded much the same, ran to Punka to congratulate her, and bestowed a kiss.

Punka purred. Punka, having been born a trick cat, had, in her mother's absence and to keep all occupied and out of mischief, trained the kittens to do this remarkable feat.

Recovering from her surprise, Claudia said, "Why, that's Punka! The way she leaps! Punka, come here!"

Punka came. She rubbed herself against Claudia's legs. "Wah!" she said, and gave giant purrs. Everything Punka did was on the big scale, and her feet were truly colossal! But then, she was a colossal cat, as was her mother, Miranda.

Now this spectacle that Punka had presented for the entertainment of cats and, as it happened, humans, too, had temporarily distracted all from thoughts of Zag. But a low moan from deep in the shadows made the family turn to see what that was. They could barely make out a huge, rather formless lump. It looked like an old mop or a fur mantle, and Miranda had sat down beside it. She was crouching there silently, as though wondering when anyone would wake up to the fact that this was no old mop or fur mantle, it was...

"Zag!" cried Marcus. "Zag! Zaggie!"

The great hulk moved. Trembling, shaking, it was trying to get to its feet.

"Zaggie! Zaggie! It is Zag!" Claudia and Miranda added their words of encouragement.

"
Paella! Cara puella!
Dear girl!" That was what Marcus often called Zag, and Zag liked it.

At the sound of the beloved voice, Zag managed to hoist herself all the way up, and, weak and exhausted though she was, she leaped into the outstretched arms of her master. She put her great shaggy paws around his shoulders and slobbered his face with kisses and spoke many words. "Uh-ruh-ruh-ruh-rum!" she said.

"There, there, Zaggie!" Marcus said. "You're all right now, all right." He let Zaggie lick his face, beard and all, for as long as Zaggie wanted. This might have been forever if Lavinia had not said, "Well, now. We ought to go. Aren't we the lucky people to have found all our pets, all three of our pets?"

"And that's the way the story ends," said Claudia merrily and happily.

But that was not the end, for Miranda would not go. Instead, she beckoned to Claudia again. "Wirra-wirra," she said. And Claudia followed her into a little side room, the ticket room. Four very tiny little kittens were making sounds, the faintest of mew-mews. They were much too small for playing the pyramid game. Miranda ran to them, and they joyously cuddled close to her.

"Oh, look!" exclaimed Claudia in delight. "These are Miranda's own little, new little kittens! Aren't they cunning! Oh, Miranda, you great, wonderful cat. You know what you are? You are Miranda the Great!"

Miranda purred at the praise. Her little square-jawed face was upturned to Claudia. But her eyes were deep and dark and sad. It seemed as though Claudia's words, "You are Miranda the Great," were resounding in the vast arena like a giant echoing whisper ... Miranda the Great ... Miranda the Great...

"Well," said Marcus. "Time to be going now. Gather up the cats and kittens. Don't let any of the other cats and kittens follow us. Six is plenty."

"I know," said Claudia laughingly. "I'll carry two of the kittens."

"And I the other two," said Lavinia happily.

"And that's the way the story ends," repeated Claudia even more merrily and happily than before.

But that was not the end either.

Miranda stood up majestically. "Woe-woe," she said.

And then from out of the shadows and from back in the arena came silently the throng of kittens and cat inhabitants of the Colosseum. They crouched down behind Miranda, and they eyed first her, and then the three humans, and they waited. One kitten, the little tiger, boldly said, "Hiss!" when he looked at the people, danced sidewise up to them on stiff legs, and then danced back again.

Miranda came and stood between the cats and her family. She faced the family and crouched in her familiar "I won't move" position. Her daughter, Punka, crouched down in an identical position beside her. They always fixed it that the tips of their tails were turned in identical curves, and this they did now.

A terrible suspicion swept into Claudia's mind. "They are telling us something," she said. "They are saying they are not going home with us. Miranda. Punka. Come on, now. We have to go now," she said softly.

"Mew, mew, mew," said all the little rescued kittens, looking plaintively at Miranda. And "Hiss!" they said to the people, some looking really wicked and some quite comical.

Miranda looked first at the cats and then at her family. Otherwise, she did not move. Her eyes were sad and melancholy, for she knew what decision she had to make, had already made. Punka remained beside her; she always did what her mother did. Miranda looked up into Claudia's face, silently conveying the news to her that here she must stay, that she could not abandon the kittens she had rescued, that she could not return home, that home now for her and her rescued kittens was the Colosseum.

"Mew, mew, mew," said all the little kittens who had understood the silent speech. "Mew, mew, mew!" they cried as loudly as they could, and this meant, "Long live Miranda the Great!"

Other big cats said, "She shall be our queen. Queen Miranda of the Colosseum." Even old broke-tail lizard came out from somewhere and salaamed before Miranda—he was trying already to curry favor—and slunk back sidewise into the shadows.

"Oh, she'll come soon, I know she will," Claudia said. "Let's wait. You know how she always likes us to wait for her? Take her time?" So she and her whole family, including Zag who was growing stronger by the minute now that Marcus had come, waited.

Nighttime came. Still, Claudia and her mother and father waited. They didn't want to go home without their two big and wonderful cats. They felt compelled to stay a little longer and a little longer. They had a feeling that something was going to happen.

When the moon came out, full and shining over the far wall of the arena, Miranda stood up, stretched, and said, "Wirra-wirra!" Then, with Punka following slightly behind, like a lady in waiting, she led the cats and the kittens, smallest ones first, in straight formation around the huge arena.

Next, Miranda mounted the dais, leaped gracefully onto the throne of emperors, and with Punka standing at her side, somewhat below on a sort of a stool, she surveyed her followers. They took their places, sopranos on one side, altos and contraltos in their rightful locations. The kittens' choir was in front. The kittens wanted to practice and uttered a few faint mews, but Miranda raised a paw, and they stopped. Total silence fell over the arena. The lizard cat stood far off in the background, high on a column silhouetted against the moon.

Miranda stood up, paused a moment, and then began to sing.

A solo.

The song that Miranda sang began with a gentle theme that told of her life of ease and plenty in the pleasant garden of Claudia, a
cara puella,
seen now over there in the background. Not a cat or kitten turned to look. Suddenly Miranda let out a high note filled with foreboding and went into the awful day of the fire and the sacking of Rome, of her (and Punka's) rescuing thirty-three lost little kittens, of coming at last here to the Colosseum, of driving out the lion, of the drops of lion's milk she had bargained for with the lion, of the arrival of her four new little kittens.

She sang of these little kittens and said they might not be as strong as the original thirty-three, having been born too late for the lion's milk, but that nevertheless they were true princes and princesses and heirs to the throne on the dais, her throne, to be occupied now and forevermore by her or her offspring, though occupied in former years by proud emperors, by Vespasian and by Titus, master builders of the Colosseum.

"
Viva! Viva!
" sang the chorus. "Long live the Queen!"

While Miranda paused for breath, she encouraged other cats to enter into the chorus, even to add a short solo of their own at the right moment and in the right key, to sing of what had transpired to them on and since the fateful day of the fire.

These cats sang in all keys of the scale and in keys that are not on the scale, such as the key of Z, in honor of Zag. Even broke-tail cat from Barcelona, known as the lizard cat, was allowed to sing. He began his song before the last singer was finished, he was so impatient to start. At first he sang from the top of the broken column, then he leaped to the top of a ruined wall, then he came nearer and nearer to the chorus, like a player coming from behind the scenes, then to take the center of the stage. In his song he told how he had made his departure from the city of Barcelona, Spain (the way he sang it, you would think he had chosen to leave and had not been chased out by the terrible rooftop cats there), and he sang of his arrival, after much wandering hither and thither, here in the Eternal City, Rome.

Miranda, still standing on the throne, listened sharply to his song, and she narrowed her eyes. "Danger is ever imminent," she thought, for this broke-tail cat from Barcelona might be plotting to seize the throne. He might be singing his plot in Spanish and inciting some cats to join him and crown him king. Therefore, Miranda raised a majestic paw and butted in at the peak of his drama with the same sort of high note with which she had frightened off the sixteen dogs. The lizard cat got the point. Their duet was a short one, and Miranda easily drowned him out. The lizard cat staggered away, quite spent from his tremendous solo, back to the shadows where he remained for the rest of the opera.