Miranda the Great (6 page)

Then Miranda said to Zag, for she saw that a look of peace was beginning to settle on her face, "All right, Zag. Now you must come into my house, the Colosseum. And get some sleep and have something to eat. Be careful not to step on kittens. There are thirty-seven of them, I think, counting my new four."

"Uh-huh-huh." Zag sighed. Painfully, limping quite a great deal—her feet were very sore and one had been bleeding—she stood up weakly and followed Miranda into the arcade to the little room where all the kittens were. This little room was where tickets used to be given out. It was a sweet, warm, very private little apartment, just right for Miranda, Punka, thirty-seven kittens, three visiting cats who had come to stay, and one dog, Zag.

The great and awful lizard cat from Barcelona, father of Punka and her brothers and sisters, looked in once and asked to stay. But Miranda said, "No," he must stay on the other side of the arena. Sometimes you could see his eyes over there, sometimes not. He was rather like a sentinel on the outpost. "I'll nickname him 'Splendorio,' if he does a good job," Miranda mused.

Once settled on the old toga, Zag relaxed a little. Miranda went to get her a piece of meat, hoping that the lizard cat, who had discovered the supply, had not eaten it all up. He hadn't, and Miranda came back with a nice big chunk, the kind that in the old days Zag would have swallowed in a glad gulp.

But Zag did not eat the meat. She shook her head and pretended to sleep. However, when in the distance footsteps echoed from outside the Colosseum, she would sit up and listen intently. Then she would lie down and sigh, for the footsteps did not belong to Marcus.

Some people had begun to return to the city. The barbarians had left; the fires were mostly out. Miranda kissed Zag again. "Woe-woe," she said. "Marcus will find you. I will take care of you. Go to sleep now." Then Miranda sang a little lullaby to the kittens, and with her little ones beside her she purred. "Purr-purr," answered the little ones. Like the gentle lapping of small waves along the beach, the kittens purred.

But Zag could not help but sob. Even in her sleep she sometimes sobbed. You would think to hear her, she was saying the name Marcus.

Now it was seven days later. Smoke still hung heavily over some parts of the city, and sometimes in the nighttime the cats could see an old fire smoldering. But the worst was over, and for more and more people life was beginning to resume its old pattern. This was not so for the cats or for Zag. The cats had explored most of the Colosseum. Some of it was in rubble, and many of its mighty columns had fallen. But the cats liked this and thought it a splendid place to live. Zag did not think so.

Often Zag lay at the entrance to their arcade, facing the square outside, and sometimes she moaned. She rarely ate anything and merely moistened her mouth from time to time at the fountain near the gate. Miranda sometimes joined Zag, crouched beside her, and silently tried to comfort the grieving dog. Sometimes Miranda's eyes grew sad, too, as she recalled the life they once had led, gone she was sure forever. When any man came walking along, Zag would stand up, give a hopeful wag, smell the man's heels, then lie down again and heave a deep sigh.

Few of the cats remembered much about their old life, although occasionally one would wander away, perhaps trying to find its real right home again. But most would come back in the nighttime and sing. Hearing the singing, more and more cats asked to join the chorus and take up residence. Nice cats were allowed to. Sometimes, before she had begun to feel so badly, Zag would join in the nighttime singing. She would sound a bugle-like howl at exactly the right moment, and many thought it sounded excellent.

But for some days Zag had not joined in, and Miranda was worried about her. Right now Zag was lying beside Miranda in the golden glow of the late afternoon sun. All Rome looked golden, and Miranda, who was still quite sooty, had a look of antique gold. Miranda, squinting in the sunshine, watched Zag with narrowed eyes.

"The Colosseum is no place for Zag," thought Miranda. "See how thin she is getting. Her bones are beginning to stick out."

When Miranda was not watching, some cats teased Zag, particularly the brave little tiger cat who was too young to know he must feel sympathy. So Miranda resolved to take Zag back to their old home in the hope it was still there and that someone, a servant, anyone, might have returned.

Miranda told Punka her plan, and Punka wanted to go, too. "No," said Miranda. "You must be in charge here while I am away. Guard it well, for it is our house now."

"Wah," said Punka dolefully.

"I'll try to bring something good back to eat, a little fish perhaps."

"Wah," said Punka a little more cheerfully.

"Come on, Zag," said Miranda. "We're going to take a walk. We're going home."

Zag did not move. She lay on her side, panting heavily. Miranda touched her nose to Zag's. Dry, dusty, and hot ... very bad signs. And Zag could not get up. Miranda said, "Woe-woe! Marcus, Zaggie, Marcus!"

Zag raised her head a little but lay back down again, prone. "I must get help," thought Miranda. "Or Zag will die of a broken heart. Punka," she said, "Zag is too weak to go. Take good care of her. I'll hurry back. But I must get help."

Miranda gave Punka and Zag swift licks on their faces, took a last look at her little kittens, saw that they were all right, said good-by, and left. She turned only once. It is hard to leave your kittens even for an errand as important as this. "By," she said. "Woe-woe."

Zag followed Miranda with her reddened sad eyes but otherwise did not move. And Punka wistfully said, "Wah!" She did not want to be in charge. "Wah!" she said again. She had wanted to go with her mother, and she would not leap when the kittens asked her to. They could never get enough of her sudden leaps and always said "mew-mew-mew" in delight and grinned. Instead, Punka watched her mother until the brave little figure disappeared from sight across the square. Miranda may have been a colossal cat, but even she looked small on the broad and bright
piazza.

There wasn't a braver cat in the whole world, probably, than Miranda. Yet, as she made her way through the ruins and rubble, where tiny shoots of flowers and little weeds were already beginning to grow, she felt frightened. She was recalling the day of the terrible fire, and she almost wished she had not come. She hurried past the Forum, not liking the sound of the cats who had taken up residence there. She knew that now she was very near her old home ... if it had not been destroyed.

At last she came to her street. Somewhat confused because many of the houses were in ruins and she had to steer around fallen columns, she stood stock-still to get her bearings. Suddenly she perked up her ears and a smile came over her face. She heard Lavinia whistling.

Lavinia was whistling the special tune she had made up that always persuaded Miranda to come in or go out when all other inducements failed. Crouching beside a chunk of marble, Miranda listened. Then, unable as always to resist the special and compelling tune, she approached the house. Lavinia was standing in the doorway with Claudia on one side of her and Marcus on the other. The beautiful golden house was practically unhurt. The three had apparently just come home, and baskets with fruit and belongings were beside them. They had not yet caught sight of Miranda.

"Woe-woe!" said Miranda plaintively.

"I heard her! I heard her!" screamed Claudia, jumping up and down. "Miranda! Miranda! Where are you?"

Miranda polished a paw to make sure she was tidy. Then she walked majestically out of the shadows, and purring loudly and vibrantly, she presented herself to the family.

Claudia scooped her up in her arms and smothered her with kisses. Miranda gravely returned them with her moist little nose. "Miranda! Darling Miranda! I missed you so! I didn't know what had happened to you!"

"That dirty cat is not Miranda," said Marcus.

Claudia was indignant. "Of course it's Miranda," she said. "It's dear, beautiful, golden Miranda. I recognize her 'woe-woe.'"

Miranda narrowed her eyes and coldly surveyed Marcus. What did he think? That she could keep herself spotless with forty, or however many there were now, kittens to keep clean, to teach them manners besides, and how to walk and eat, and to get them lion's milk also? Let Marcus try to do all that himself sometime. And besides all that, she had had four brand-new kittens! She would shine again. Just wait! She eyed Marcus malevolently.

"You are right," said Marcus. "This is Miranda all right. I can tell from her expression."

"And she has had her kittens!" put in Lavinia. "Dear, darling Miranda! You have had your kittens ... and where are they?"

"And Punka?" said Claudia. "Where is Punka? And Zag?" she said. "You couldn't possibly know where Zag is, could you?"

"Yes, Zag!" shouted Marcus. Marcus spoke to Miranda as though she were a foreign cat, not a Roman. "Miranda!" he shouted. "Where's Zag? ZAG, Zag. Zaggie? After all," he said to Lavinia, "if we have found Miranda, perhaps we may find that dear noble great dog, Zag. Alas! I should have tied her that day when we reached the villa. I might have known that she would try to follow me." Marcus put his face in his hands to hide his sorrow.

"We should all have thought of tying her," said Lavinia. "But we were so tired, so confused..." and Lavinia began to cry, too.

Claudia put her face in Miranda's sooty fur and sobbed. "Punka?" she said softly to Miranda. "Zag? Dear roll-over Zag? Do you know where they are, Miranda? Oh, Miranda, do you?"

Miranda looked gravely into Claudia's eyes. Then suddenly she wiggled herself free, jumped down, and ran out the gate. Stopping for a moment, giving a slight nod as though to say, "Follow me," she trotted up the street.

"She's running away!" cried Claudia. "Miranda, come back! Come back!"

Miranda paused, turned her head, and now definitely beckoned them to follow. Then she went on slowly, looking back now and then to make sure they were following. "Wirra-wirra," she said.

"Do you hear that?" said Claudia in excitement. "She wants us to follow her. That's what she did and said when her second litter of kittens was born. They were in an urn, and she kept saying, 'Wirra-wirra,' and beckoning me to go and see. Oh, what a great cat! Come on, everybody!"