I don't know what he means, but we come across the belfry where a huge bell rings and people start to throw candy in the air.
Colorful marching bands begin to fill the square in front of the famous clothes tower, where the Cheshire family has probably been thrown out in the past--the Pillar educated me all about it this morning. He had his chauffeur research the Cheshire's background in Ypres.
More children dressed in feline costumes make clawing gestures, while elders twirl the flag of a Flemish lion. It's Ypres’s national shield. How ironic, I think. A lion on the flag where they killed the same species in the past.
"Balloons!" I cry out like a little child. Huge balloons gather and take the shape of one huge cat in the sky.
I see young girls march next to us. They are dressed as Cleopatra as a tribute to Egyptian cats, which were considered Gods back then. Viking-costumed flutists follow them with dancing girls in blonde braids as a tribute to Celtic cats.
Things look ordinary, until Alice spots horses drawing a wagon of a caged witch who is acting as if she is pleading not to be burned. She is holding onto the bars and flipping her stiff black hair.
"Gotta love humans," the Pillar blurts out as he still looks for the Cheshire.
"Why? What's going to happen to the witch?"
"In the Grand Finale of the party, they are going to burn her," the Pillar pushes a couple of cat-clothed kids away. "Woof. Woof," he blows at them. "Of course, they won't burn the girl herself. They will burn a feline version of her. Can you believe this is the twenty-first century? People still believe that cats and witches are the cause of their misery."
Then I am distracted by a huge carriage made of feline fur. It looks like a huge red cat with scary jaws. They call it The Cradle. Children cheer seeing it and start climbing on the top and sides. I wonder if the huge cat on wheels is just hollow from inside, because it's big enough to have a dining table and chair inside. For a moment, I ponder if the Cheshire is hiding inside.
"And here comes Garfield." The Pillar points his cane at someone in a Garfield costume, walking next to a Puss in Boots.
I try not to worry like the Pillar and enjoy the parade for a while. The buildings all around us are a work of art. The houses are Renaissance style, and the fact that there is almost no place to take a step makes me happy. Again, for a girl just out of an asylum, this is Heaven.
Suddenly, the parade stops as we're approached by a huge number of Pro-Cat activists. They are holding big animal rights signs, protesting against the cruelty that has been imposed on the cats of Ypres in the past. Their voices are loud and angry. I find myself pushed to the first row with the Pillar next to me. When I get a closer look at the Pro-Cat activists, fear prickles on the back of my neck. The Pillar holds my hand for assurance. What we're looking at might be normal for others, but not for us. All the activists in front of us wear the same exact orange mask on their face. A face of a grinning cat, just like the mask the Cheshire Cat had stolen from Pott Shrigly.
Chapter 59
"Ding dong...something is wrong," the Pillar says again, staring at the activists.
"You think he is one of them?" The thought of me staring at the Cheshire without knowing him is unsettling. He could simply be any one in this masked crowd. I'd rather face a devil I know than one I don't.
"Brilliant isn't it?" The Pillar looks angered by the Cheshire's trick. "He has an unstoppable need to attend the festival and perform the ritual. Now, with all those masks, we can’t even know who he is. He's mocking us again."
"Shouldn't that mean that Constance is here?"
"In many ways, it does," the Pillar says as the activists make way for someone approaching from the back. It looks like their leader, a man dressed in a Pied Piper's costume. He holds a flute in his hand, a dossier, and has a few cat grinning masks with him.
"This is a peaceful protest," he raises his hands and talks to the people. I notice he is in his fifties and his face is heavily lined, as if he's been a big drinker or smoker in his younger days. He has a good tan though, and he is not wearing a mask. "All we ask is that you let us pass to the clothes tower to mourn our cats."
The people behind us murmur. They are wondering if there is enough space for them to walk through. They wouldn't want to spoil the parade, as they still have the need to move forward and continue the celebration.
"I have a couple of masks for those of you who have had a change of heart and want to mourn the many cats that have been killed in this town," the Piper grins, imitating the masks. "Have you ever had a cat, young lady?" he addresses me, bowing his head as he is a bit too tall.
"I think so." I don't remember having one.