“Choose the next one in rank among your priests, to be my vicar on earth.”
“We obey, Ca-ta-pha.”
“Take possession of your rights then, O men! Accept your masters, O women! Thus you shall be strong and mighty always, and you shall multiply as the sands of the sea, and conquer all nations. Ca-ta-pha shall watch over you forever.”
The women, taller and stronger than the men, but awed by my words, knelt, and the new masters placed their feet upon their necks, pronouncing pompously: “Slaves!” A man, with large hips, small beardless face, and much bejeweled, waved a fist at his late mistress, who towered over him. Obey! Or you shall feel my lash!”
She bowed her head submissively.
Another, more arrogant still, pulled his woman’s hair, commanding: “Slaughter a lamb for me, and broil it!”
“Master,” she answered, “how is it done?”
“How is it done? Learn! You have lazied long enough.”
“Yes, master.”
“And mind you, if you do not prepare it to suit my teeth, prepare your hide to suit my whip.”
Yes, master.”
Delighted, the men laughed and danced. Children were pushed disdainfully toward the women. “Take care of your brats!”
The latter, weeping, hid their faces in their mothers’ unlovely laps.
“Stop weeping there!”
“Sh-h!” the women repeated, “Your fathers do not like noise.”
Their voices were deep and heavy, and ill-suited for tender consolation. Kotikokura and I rode to the residence of the Queen.
The palace was unguarded. I asked Kotikokura to remain outside, and await my orders.
Salome was sitting upon her throne, in the fantastic garments of savage royalty. She was alone. She had not changed since our meeting in Persia. I bowed and remained silent.
“Ca-ta-pha, you have won!”
“I come to save you from serious discomfiture.”
“I know. I am grateful to you.”
“Your people are enraged at you. You must not remain here another moment.”
“I know. I expected you.”
“You expected me?”
“Yes.”
“You anticipated my thoughts in Persia, but how could you prognosticate my arrival?”
“It is easy to read a man’s thoughts, and to guess his moods.”
“Easy?”
“Of course. And don’t forget that a woman, too, may learn something in India…”
“I do not forget that Salome is incomparable.”
She smiled. “Cartaphilus, too, is incomparable.”
I kissed her hands. “Shall we go?” I asked.
“Yes.”
“Kotikokura will come with us.”
“Of course,” she said, a little annoyed.
“Has he been a source of displeasure to you?”
“He was too faithful to you!”
“He is as a brother to me.”
“No brother is half so faithful.”
“Kotikokura,” I called.
He came in.
“Kneel before Salome, she is your mistress while she remains with us.”
He knelt. Salome bade him rise, and gave him her hand to kiss.
“We shall leave by my secret exit, Cartaphilus, which leads to a road unknown even to Kotikokura. Three camels are waiting for us behind a cluster of trees.”
“And my parrot, who has been screeching ‘Carr-tarr-pharr’…ever since I entered the palace?”
“The Sacred Parrot can remain here, to remind the people of Catapha.” She laughed a little sarcastically.
“Is Ca-ta-pha inferior to other gods?” I asked.
“Few in the profession are his superiors,” she answered.
“Then why did you wish to depose him?”
“I am weary of men-gods.”
“Is not God always…man?”
“The womb of woman gives birth to man!”
“Perhaps God is both man and woman in one…” I suggested.
“Cartaphilus, at least, is a master of gallantry.”
She touched my hand gently. I was too delighted to discuss gods or creeds.
XLIII: THREE IMMORTALS RIDE THROUGH THE DESERT—SLAVES OF THE MOON—CONFESSIONS—KOTIKOKURA PLAYS ON A REED
OUR camels rocked like tall weird boats, shaken by a sea slightly ruffled. Salome rode at my left, and Kotikokura behind us. The sky seemed like a luminous desert covered with stars instead of sand.
Salome chuckled a little.
“The Queen is amused?” I asked.
“Somewhat.”
“By what?”
“By Ca-ta-pha, Kotikokura, and Salome,—the three immortals, riding together into the desert.”
We rode in silence for some time.
“Did you think that a nation ruled by women could maintain itself permanently?” I asked.
“Why not?”
“Man’s rule is based on the laws of nature…”
“Cartaphilus,” she exclaimed, “you are incorrigible! Woman was the first ruler. Her rule was before man’s, whatever legends man may devise to soothe his vanity.”
“I am humble, Salome.”
She laughed. “Cartaphilus humble!” Her teeth glittered, her curls struck lightly her checks. Sparks seemed to dance from the fire within her eyes.
“Cartaphilus is vain only because Salome rides at his side.”
“I do not deny that you are gallant, Cartaphilus, and however childish flattery may be, I cannot but be pleased by it. Alas, I am a woman.”
“Alas?”
“Yes, for you are right, after all. Woman must remain man’s inferior while she is enslaved by her body.”
“Oh!”
“She is the mother, the bearer of progeny. Even when her organism is not engaged in the function of reproducing the race, she is weakened by the rhythm of her purification. As the moon waxes and wanes, nature draws the blood from her brain into the organs of procreation. Every month she gives birth to a bud destined in most cases never to blossom. Every month her body goes through the agony of childbirth without child. Man is free to go his way. She is the slave of the moon!…”
“Many of your women, Salome, seemed more robust and more capable than the men.”
“Those women, alas, are neither women nor men, they are a disinherited sex. Even they are pleased to be slaves once more. Had I remained among them for many generations—I could have established a new type perhaps—but I was bored. Like Cartaphilus, I feel the irresistible urge of wandering. If I had really desired to remain Queen of the Land of the Sacred Parrot, I would not have been overthrown.”
“Even your women were enraged because you violated their most holy traditions.”
Salome laughed.
“You are referring to my refusal to sleep for a week with the corpse of one of my husbands…?”
“Yes.”
“That would have been a little uncomfortable, of course, but it would have been easy to make the situation tolerable by the use of a little magic… Cartaphilus ought to know… He is a god.”
I laughed in my turn.
“What a curious notion this, to sleep with a dead man, and gather the worms of the corpse!”
“Not so curious, Cartaphilus. A little disgusting, no doubt, but quite rational. Is not the soul supposed to lodge within the body?”
“Such seems to be the essence of most creeds.”
“Man attempts to preserve the soul…”
“Undoubtedly—he even preserves the ashes of the dead.”
“There is more life in the worms than in the ashes that he guards with such care. Their writhing persuades the savage mind that the soul is a living reality. It continues to live in the worm! Man, Cartaphilus, is always logical. Whatever he does, proceeds from reason. The customs of your people, while nasty, are logical.” She laughed ironically.
“And life,” I replied, “continues to remain beyond logic and reason,—a whimsical thing, wriggling its thumb upon its nose and laughing uproariously.”
“How very true, Cartaphilus.”
Kotikokura laughed, slapping his thighs.
“Why do you laugh, Kotikokura?” I asked, turning around.
He shrugged his shoulders.
“What makes you so merry, my friend?”
He continued to shrug his shoulders.