“Ca-ta-pha—God always.”
I realized that if I did not act quickly, my enraged people would attack Salome. They must not mar her incomparable perfection!
“Hearken, my people!”
All knelt.
“By the sacred Parrot, let no one touch the Queen! Ca-ta-pha your God, will destroy her himself.”
“Carr-tarr-pharr…” the parrot screeched.
“Ca-ta-pha,” the people echoed.
“Rise and follow me!”
I mounted the camel. Kotikokura preceded me, the rest followed. The women who watched the gate of the city, tall creatures, hipless and breastless, seeing us, threw their spears to the ground, and ran, shrieking: “Ca-ta-phal Ca-ta-pha! Ca-ta-pha!”
As we proceeded, men and women prostrated themselves before us, shouting my name.
When enough had gathered together, I stopped.
“Hearken, ye women! Ca-ta-pha has come to chastise you.”
“We deserve it! We deserve it!”
“You have been unkind and unjust to your men.”
“We have been unkind and unjust.”
“I could no longer endure your ways, and I have come to punish you.”
“Ca-ta-pha will punish us!”
I remained silent for a while. The women sobbed: “Woe is us! Woe is us!”
“But Ca-ta-pha is a kind God.”
“Ca-ta-pha is a kind God.”
“I shall have mercy on you.”
“Ca-ta-pha shall have mercy on us. May his name be praised forever!”
“I shall neither broil you on spits, nor chop your heads off with a hatchet, nor shall I inflict upon you the tortures which you have inflicted upon your men.”
“Ca-ta-pha will not kill us! He will not torture us!”
“Hearken and obey!”
“We hearken and obey.”
“I have created man in my image, and I created woman to be his servant. Have not your High Priests and your elders told you this?”
“Yes! Yes!”
“Therefore man cracks the whip and woman obeys.”
“Man cracks the whip and woman obeys.”
“Deliver unto your men all weapons and kneel before them.”
“We shall deliver unto our men all weapons and kneel before them.”
“The chief of the men shall be the chief of the tribe.”
“He shall be the chief of the tribe.”
“So long as you obey man, and worship me, you shall not perish, neither shall you suffer.”
“Ca-ta-pha is a merciful god.”
“As for your Queen, touch not one hair of her head, but leave her to the wrath and vengeance of Ca-ta-pha and the Holy Camel.”
“We shall leave her to the wrath and vengeance of Ca-ta-pha and the Holy Camel.”
Turning to the men, I said: “Hearken, all ye men! Your High Priest I shall take with me to Heaven.”
“Happy High Priest!”
“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.
Salome smiled, her eyes half closed. Was she thinking of the time when she had rejected me for Kotikokura?
Salome laughed a little.
“Cartaphilus still is angry at me a little.”
“How shall he hide his emotions before Salome? It may be true, he may be a little angry, or a little sorry…but he is happy that Salome rides at his side.”
The stars were dimming like old eyes covered with thin cataracts. Salome yawned and laughed. “Salome must yawn now and then, Cartaphilus. Sleep is another form of slavery.”
“Kotikokura,” I called, “the Queen is weary. Raise the tent, that she may sleep quietly within it, and not be disturbed by the Sun, when that great Slaughterer of Dreams stamps his golden feet upon the sand.”
Salome stretched out her arms. I helped her descend from the camel. Her hands were small and white, as a child’s almost. I kissed and caressed them.
“The desert makes us sentimental. The realization of our cosmic insignificance stirs pity in us, and creates new measures of values, purely human. We become important to one another, when we no longer matter to the universe.”
“Yes, Cartaphilus. Besides, are we not both children of that strange race, most bitter and ironic, and yet how sentimental?”
We watched Kotikokura arrange the tent.
“And who is Kotikokura?” I whispered. “Is he perhaps also one of us,—a scion of the Lost Tribe?”
“He is the link that unites man to animal, Cartaphilus. He is yourself, perhaps, as you were a thousand generations ago…”
“I love him, Salome.”
“I have vainly sought a woman companion like him! I tried to discover one whose blood could mingle with mine…”
“Is your blood, too, poison to others?”
She nodded.
“Some day,” she added, “I may find a vessel strong enough to bear life of my life.”
“A blossom of your own body?”
She shook her head.
Kotikokura grinned and clapped his hands. The tent was ready. I wished Salome happy dreams, and withdrew.
Kotikokura stretched out beside me.
“Are you sorry that you are no longer the High Priest of Ca-ta-pha?”
“Kotikokura always High Priest of Ca-ta-pha.”
“Tell me, are you not curious to know where Ca-ta-pha has been these many years, and what he did?”
“Ca-ta-pha was in Heaven.”
“In Heaven?”
He nodded.
“Don’t you remember the time we were both shipwrecked?”
He nodded.
“And you believe that Ca-ta-pha went to Heaven?”
He nodded vigorously.
“Who carried him to Heaven?”
“Ca-ta-pha is God.”
“And how did you get back to Africa?”
“Ca-ta-pha carried me.”
I meditated on the curious mechanism of the human mind.
“Oh, by the way, Kotikokura, what became of the belt I gave you? There were enough precious stones within it to purchase a caliphate.”
Kotikokura laughed a little, like a small dog barking, and pointed to his waist.
“You still have it?”
He explained how he showed the belt to his tribesmen as a proof that Ca-ta-pha had sent him to be his High Priest. The belt remained on the altar. Anyone but himself touching it, died. But since Ca-ta-pha had come in person, it was no longer necessary to leave it there. Besides, the sacred parrot would remind the worshipers of their God.
“Kotikokura, you are too subtle for an honest man!” I exclaimed.
He laughed.
“Tell me, did anyone ever touch the belt and die?”
He nodded.
“How did he die?”
He made a motion which indicated that he had strangled him.
“Did anyone see you do it?”
He shook his head.
“Kotikokura, you are almost clever enough to be a god yourself.”
He shook his head. “Ca-ta-pha God.”
XLIV: LOVE MAGIC—PARALLEL LINES—SMOKE—SALOME SMILES
THE moon was surrounded by an immense aureole, whose reflection flooded the desert like a white sea. Salome her eyes half-closed, looked at me and smiled.
“Cartaphilus, will you forgive me for my little jest in Persia?”
I remained silent.
“Are you really still angry at me? Do not two hundred years suffice to cool a man’s ruffled vanity?”
“This time the incomparable Salome has not guessed my thoughts.”
She smiled.
“I was merely shaping in my mind a reply which would prove most convinci
ngly that the pleasure of being with Salome atones for the ancient pain.”
“Was it really pain… ?”
I nodded.
“Are you less sensitive now, Cartaphilus?”
“Perhaps. I have lived…”
We both laughed.
“Of course, you were so young in passion! How many centuries, Cartaphilus?”
“And you?”
Kotikokura laughed.
I turned around. He was too far in back of us to hear our conversation.
“Did he always laugh so much, Cartaphilus?”
“He hardly ever laughed. It is something he has learned recently.”
“He, too, is growing up.”
The white sea of sand continued to flow in utter silence in front of us.
“Salome, were you really in Persia,—or was it illusion?”
She laughed. “Of course I was.”
“Were you in a magnificent palace, mistress of a thousand slaves, guarded by eunuchs?”
“Do you not know the power of mirrors and shadows dancing upon them? Are you not an adept in magic?”
I looked, incredulous. She patted my hands. “Cartaphilus will be a child…forever.”
“The happiest child in the world, if Princess Salome remains at his side.”
She shook her head. “No, no! That must not be.”
“Why not, Salome?”
“Cartaphilus desires most to be alone, and unhampered until he finds himself. Delve into your soul, and see if I am not right.”
I remained silent for a long while.
“Well, Cartaphilus,” she said quietly, a little sadly, “am I not right?”
“Perhaps. And yet…are we not logical companions, predestined mates, bound by one race and one fate…forever?”
“We are two parallel lines drawn very close to each other…so close indeed that no third line, however thin, could be drawn between them.”
“Will the two parallel lines ever meet?”
“Yes. In infinity.”
“Ali Hasan!” I exclaimed, “had you ever dreamed that there was so much poetry and pathos and sorrow in mathematics?”
“Who is Ali Hasan?”
“My master of mathematics, an Arab of incomparable wisdom. He died of sheer pleasure.”
“Of sheer pleasure?”
“In Damascus, that I might forget Salome, I bought a harem of a thousand women. Now and then I invited my friends. Many could not endure the delights, and died. Ali Hasan—may he sit at the right side of Mohammed—was among them.”
My First Two Thousand Years; the Autobiography of the Wandering Jew Page 21
