The Little Snake

by A. L. Kennedy

  Shade was standing with his front paws leaning against Mary so he could reach up and begin licking the end of Lanmo’s tail and purring proudly. Lanmo permitted this, but when the cat gently nipped him, the snake had to give him a sharp look. ‘I am not a toy,’ he said. The cat did not entirely understand this; nevertheless he trotted away to look for something he might eat. The humans could not feed him any more, so he now had to hunt for himself.

  For some time, the snake simply lay along Mary’s shoulders and enjoyed her company. It had been such a while since he saw her. ‘Time has passed,’ he said.

  ‘It has. It always does.’ Mary nodded. ‘We cannot stop it.’

  He also flippery-flickered his tongue extremely fast so that he could learn about how many dusty and muddy and stony miles she had travelled and how sad she had often been.

  When both our friends had closed their eyes and breathed a while and been content, Mary asked, ‘Lanmo, have you met my parents?’

  ‘They were not in your house when I visited there. Your letter said they had left with you.’

  ‘They came with us as far as the edge of the city, but then they said they were too tired and had brought too much to carry and would miss their home too much. And so they told us to go on without them. For three days and three nights, we camped together beside the ancient city wall and tried to change their minds, but every time we asked them to come with us, they refused. And when Paul and I and Shade woke up on the fourth day, we could not find them anywhere. They had left their parcels of food with us and a note that said they thought they would be too slow on the journey and would hold us back. And they left me this . . .’ Mary showed Lanmo a golden chain which she wore around her neck. ‘This was my mother’s – she wore it on her wedding day.’ And she had to wait for a while until she could speak again, because of the sadness in this. ‘Paul and Shade and I looked but we could not find them. And how could they eat with no food? How would they do that? Why would they not come with me when I know all about exploring and journeys?’ Lanmo felt his friend’s tears drop onto his scales, heavy and stinging, with a strange new kind of love which turned his heart to an ache and made its beating stumble.

  Mary’s voice was very quiet when she asked, ‘But it is your work to meet humans, isn’t it? And once you have met them, they will have reached the end of their lives.’ Her hand trembled against Lanmo’s side.

  ‘Well . . .’ whispered the snake, ‘that is true. I am sorry for it, I think. I never was sorry, but now I am. Still, a snake is a snake is a snake. And I am this kind of snake.’

  ‘But you have never met my mother and father and let them see you and know your teeth?’ Her voice was even quieter.

  ‘I have not, Mary.’ The snake nuzzled her cheek with his head. ‘I saw them when I was with you in your house, but they did not see me. It was not their time to see me.’

  And then Mary said no more, but Lanmo could taste that she wanted to ask him, ‘And do you know if my parents are still in this world?’

  So the snake tasted the air to see if he could find Mary’s mother and father. His tongue searched in the air for a long time and would have gone on searching if Mary had not said, ‘Lanmo, you cannot find them, can you?’

  ‘No, I cannot.’

  ‘And you have the cleverest tongue in the world, haven’t you? And you can find anyone or anything?’

  ‘That is true.’

  ‘So if you cannot find them, then they cannot be found any longer in the world. And humans have done your work for you.’

  The snake did not answer this.

  ‘I would rather not be human,’ Mary said and she cried for a while and Lanmo cried with her. And this was the only time he had ever cried with a human.

  Our two friends were simply sitting together quietly when Paul returned with the mushrooms. He was whistling merrily as he came along and doing his best to be happy that he had his gathering bag and all his pockets full of mushrooms. Mary leaped to her feet and hugged him, and Lanmo – who was riding on her shoulder – also enjoyed the hug.

  Paul was startled to see the golden glimmer of the snake, but then he smiled and asked him, ‘I suppose that you don’t eat mushrooms or rice – and that is all we have to offer you.’ He also whispered, ‘I am doing my best to take care of Mary and she is doing her best to take care of me.’ And then he shook Lanmo’s tail in the way that a human might shake another human’s hand.

  Lanmo wasn’t expecting this and it made him lose his balance. For a while he found himself upside down and being shaken. ‘Woo-hoo-oh.’ But he quite liked the feelings this gave him and so he bounced up and down while Paul held him and chuckled. He had guessed that perhaps being silly for a while would cheer Mary up. And he was right.

  Then Shade returned with a mouse. Although the snake was a little jealous of the cat’s tender snack, he did not really need to eat to keep himself alive – it was only a habit that he sometimes enjoyed – and so he did not insist on sharing the furry little meal. He only looked at the cat with an upside-down look and said, ‘There is a great deal of grass in the sky and the ground has become very blue and red with a sunset in it.’ Shade put down his meal for a moment and licked Lanmo with a tongue that tasted of mouse. Lanmo chuckled again but then looked as serious as a snake can look and slipped out of Paul’s hand and swung gently from a branch overhead.

  After that, the cat ate its mouse and the humans ate their rice and mushrooms, and then Mary put out their fire very carefully so that it would show no smoke and they all climbed up high into the biggest tree they could find. From there they could see the lights of large fires and small fires, but mostly the land was in darkness. There were no lights from houses to be seen, even far away.

  Lanmo said, ‘You may all go to sleep tonight for the whole night because I will watch over you and keep you safe.’

  This meant that Mary and Paul could snuggle together on a wide, old branch while Shade curled up by himself on a higher, smaller branch. Before she closed her eyes to sleep in her canvas sleeping sack, Lanmo slipped along in the dark to Mary, his wise eyes shining redly. ‘I have never known a human like you.’

  ‘Well, I have never known a snake like you.’

  ‘That is true.’ His red eyes blinked. ‘The world has never known a night when I have not been passing from one land to another doing my work. But I will stay here and no one will meet me and no one will leave their life because of me – and this is for you.’

  ‘Are you allowed to do that?’ murmured Mary, who was feeling very comfortable because of having had such a good meal and was gently falling into all the good, warm dreams that Lanmo was already sending her to make her feel happy and refreshed. He was also sending Paul, who was already asleep, dreams about being useful and kind and attentive. And he gave Shade a dream about skipping up and down a huge mountain of cat food, chasing very slow, fat mice.

  ‘I do not know if I am allowed to let all the humans live who would have left the world tonight. Perhaps they will have to stay in the world for a very long time as a result. But I do not mind. No one has ever told me what to do under these circumstances, because I think I was never supposed to have a friend and to understand love and . . .’ Lanmo rested his thin, snaky chest against Mary’s hand, ‘my heart is beating.’

  ‘Goodness,’ said Mary, feeling the tiny pitpatpitpat of Lanmo’s newly alive heart. ‘I thought all this time that you had a beating heart like other snakes.’

  ‘But I am not like other snakes.’

  ‘Of course you’re not. You are the only snake I will ever talk to and the only snake who will be my friend and the only snake I will ever love.’

  At this, the snake cried a number of tears that were not unhappy. He had not known before that it is possible to cry because of joy. And then he sneezed – pffs – and tried to sound brisk, so that he did not seem overly sentimental. ‘Tomorrow, you must stop going north and take the path that I will show you. You must go to the Land of Perditi where yo
u will be safe. It is a long way, but you are a brave and resourceful explorer so you will reach it. Then you must go to the first city you reach after the mountains and you must take the roads as I direct you when you enter its gates and then you must knock on the house with the blue shutters and the blue door.’

  ‘And will everything be all right then?’

  ‘Everything will be as all right as it can be.’

  ‘And will you visit me there?’ For Mary already knew that Lanmo was going to leave again, because he was giving her so many instructions for the journey. ‘I would like that.’

  ‘And I would like that, too.’ Lanmo snuggled under Mary’s chin, just as he had when she was a little girl.

  ‘Good night, my friend.’

  ‘Good night, my friend.’

  ‘Sweet dreams.’

  ‘I have arranged that, yes.’ And Lanmo lifted his head and kissed Mary’s cheek and then was still.

  And Mary did dream the whole of the journey that she must make, all night long, and when she woke Lanmo was doing his stretching and waking-dance, right along the branch just above her to make her smile.

  ‘Oh, you are still here, Lanmo.’

  ‘Yes. I will ride on your shoulder for the rest of the day and make sure that you have recalled your dream properly and then I must go and be busy in the world with the other humans.’

  While Mary washed in the little stream not far away and filled their water bottles, Paul lit a fire – he was good at lighting fires – and heated some water for pine-needle tea. Then he washed, and Shade watched him splashing in the cold water and stubbing his toes on rocks. The cat just licked and licked his fur in the clever way that cats do when it is time for them to wash themselves. And Lanmo swung from the branches of the tree and his golden scales sparkled and he ruffled them so that the breeze made them sing and sound like better times and like a small orchestra, far away, walking to a party, or a wedding.

  ‘Mary,’ he asked when she sat by the fire with her pine-needle tea, ‘have you married Paul?’

  Mary shook her head. ‘We wanted to get married, but then so many bad things happened that it was not possible.’

  ‘I have the power to marry humans.’

  This sounded not very possible to Mary. ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘Well, the captains of ships and all kinds of other humans may marry humans and humans are very silly, so I don’t see why I can’t marry you to each other much better than any of them. I am magnificent and wonderful and there is only one of me. Therefore . . . I shall marry you.’ He paused and seemed to be making an effort to grin, in as far as this was possible. Certainly his scales bristled with excitement.

  Then he wagged his tail to summon Paul and Shade closer, before hanging from a branch above them in a solemn manner. ‘I hereby marry you. Shade?’ The cat looked up at Lanmo’s ruby eyes. ‘You shall be our witness that these two are joined together in the ways that humans prefer.’

  ‘But we have no ring,’ said Paul, who hadn’t quite expected to get married that day.

  ‘And I was going to wear a remarkable dress and there was going to be feasting and music and . . .’

  Everyone paused for Mary and no one said what she was thinking – that she had wanted her mother and father to be there. Each of them knew it, all the same. Paul – who had lived in an orphanage – might have invited some of the other orphans, but he had no idea where they were now.

  Lanmo frowned and licked his tongue in the air with impatience. ‘I cannot help any of that. I can only declare that you are married by all the power that is vested in me and that is a great deal of power.’ He intentionally grew much larger and puffed out his throat like a cobra and glimmered impressively. ‘And dresses . . . One can surely be married wearing nothing at all if one has to.’

  Paul winced. ‘It is not quite the usual way,’ he said softly and held Mary’s hand and kissed it. ‘But we could be married and it would be wonderful . . . Oh, but we do need rings.’

  ‘Very well,’ said the snake. ‘If you insist.’ And he leaned over to Mary until he was almost touching her nose. ‘Mary, you may pick two of my scales – the ones you think are prettiest – and then you must pull them out.’

  ‘But won’t that hurt you?’

  ‘It may. I do not know. But they will each make a golden ring for you and for Paul. They will be rings like no other because you are humans like no other.’

  And he closed his eyes and waited until Mary had indeed chosen two scales that seemed maybe a little smaller than the rest, so as not to hurt him, and pulled out one of them – which took all her strength. When she held the scale it was finer and thinner than the finest and thinnest silk but it weighed more than a heavy heart. Where the scale once was, a single drop of blood welled up and then rolled and fell, and when it touched Mary’s hand for a moment it shone like a ruby and then it vanished into her skin. ‘Oh, Lanmo. I am so sorry. This must be hurting you a lot.’

  ‘I am being very brave. You may continue.’

  And Mary pulled out another scale and another drop of blood fell and splashed onto Paul’s forehead, and, near where it fell, twenty-one of his hairs changed to a bright golden colour, in amongst the red. This scale was also as thin as thin and very heavy.

  Paul and Mary held one scale each.

  Then Lanmo opened his eyes and gently kissed Paul on the cheek. At this, the scale Paul was holding turned to liquid and flowed to form a ring on Paul’s finger, a very beautiful ring, with its own tiny scales like a snake.

  And next Lanmo kissed Mary. ‘There, I have given you away, although you are not mine, but I do love you and so I have had care of you and now you are married.’ And the scale she held then flowed from where it rested in her palm to form a shining ring on her finger, even more beautiful than Paul’s, with a perfect image of Lanmo looped all around it.

  Then the newly-weds and their cat and their friend the snake marched out on the first day of their journey on the snake’s path and – as he had in happier days – Lanmo rode on Mary’s shoulder, flickering his tongue and humming a small sweet tune to himself and occasionally sighing because he was so very comfortable and yet this comfort would soon come to an end.

  When the humans had unpacked their gear and lit their fire for the evening, Lanmo told them, ‘Now I have to leave you, but these rings will distract your enemies as you travel, should you meet any. Their eyes will be drawn to the gold and then they will feel sleepy and then they will be confused, and by the time they have recovered themselves you will have run far away.’ He tickled the ears of Shade and the cat lay on its back for a while, remembering what it was like to live in a house and have nothing to do but eat and sleep and play games.

  This looked so endearing that Mary and Paul watched the cat being happy. When they looked up, the snake was gone.

  ‘Oh,’ said Mary. And she shed a tear. The tear fell upon her ring and where it landed there grew a tiny diamond. And when another tear fell there grew another diamond. These formed the eyes of the snake that was imprinted in the gold. And this was a sign to show Lanmo that love is a jewel and helps us to see and is not only a terrible thing. Although it may also be a strange thing.

  But Lanmo was not there to see it.

  Lanmo, with his newly beating heart, returned to his work, going up and down and around the world. He met woodcarvers and helicopter pilots and guitar players and swimmers and humans who wandered from place to place because they liked to and humans who wandered from place to place because they had no homes and humans who loved to whistle and others who loved to paddle and some who loved to climb trees. He also met humans who had never yet found anything, or anyone, to love. These humans made his heart beat slowly and grow heavy in his chest, and this disturbed him.

  Every morning he licked the air with his wonderful tongue and tasted where Mary was and if she was happy. Every evening he sent her funny dreams and silly dreams and dreams where she won her heart’s desire and dreams where she swam wi
th tigers and then lay on the beach with them while their fur dried and they purred. He also, because he thought he should, sent quite pleasant dreams to Paul – ones where Paul was a famous footballer, or a beautiful giraffe, or a tree filled with parakeets. (Lanmo could taste that Paul loved football, giraffes and parakeets.) And the snake sent some smaller dreams about mice and biscuits and tickles to Shade. (Cats’ dreams have to be small, because they need to fit inside catnaps, which are short.) And Lanmo made sure that all three of our friends knew where to go on the morning of each day when they woke.

  And as he travelled across all the countries that humans have invented, Lanmo knew that on all sides the humans were performing his duties without him. It seemed strange to the snake that so many humans would use so many ingenious machines and so many ingenious excuses and so many ingenious methods to rush each other out of the world, when all of them must leave their lives in any case. They should fly kites, he thought. They should play with cats and eat ice cream and bake bread and dance with each other and sing and they should marry each other and perhaps make intelligent children who understand things, or adopt children who are orphans and have nobody for them in the world. But he knew that he could not change the humans against their will and that the humans could only choose to change themselves and so he must leave them to be lost in their own ways.

  Mary and Paul were not lost. For many months after they left their home city, they followed the dream map that Lanmo showed them, a little bit more every night. Their path was strange – it wriggled and squiggled and writhed and scrithed and did not include any straight lines in the way that a human path might. This was because snakes never move like humans and do not trust straight lines – they find them unnatural.