Cat Country (10 page)

When they got to the edge of the forest, the whole formation halted and Scorpion pointed up to the scaffold. They all raised their clubs in my direction as if they were saluting me. You see, as the direct representative of the Great Spirit, I was supposed to have come to protect the reverie leaves for Scorpion, who was, of course, most beloved by the Great Spirit. If the soldiers, while harvesting the leaves, were to try to hide any of them away or eat them on the sly, then I, as direct representative of the Great Spirit, would strike that erring soldier down with a bolt of lightning from my hand. The source of that ‘lightning’ would be, of course, the
yishu
that I carried tucked inside my belt. The twenty musician-bodyguards were my aids, and if they saw any funny business, they’d signal Scorpion with their instruments. He in turn would pray to me to loose a bolt of my lightning.

After the ceremony for the Great Spirit was over, Scorpion ordered the soldiers to divide into teams of two. One man would climb the tree to pick, and the other would stay on the ground to stack the leaves as they were handed down. No one was allowed to work on the trees closest to me. The reason for this, Scorpion told them, was that it would be dangerous to get too close to the direct representative of the Great Spirit, for if a breath from the nose of the Great Spirit’s representative touched one of them, that man would immediately fall, paralysed, to the ground like a wet rag and never be able to rise again. Therefore these trees would have to be left for Scorpion to pick personally. It seemed that Scorpion had been just as successful in hypnotising the soldiers as he had been with me, for they immediately broke up into teams of two and set to work.

Scorpion must have eaten an especially heavy meal of the best leaves, for he was running back and forth supervising things as fast as a shuttle on a loom. He had his club constantly poised in case he had to bring it down on the head of an erring soldier. I heard later that every time they had a reverie leaf harvest, the landlord was expected to club to death a couple of soldiers and bury them under the trees in order to insure a bountiful harvest the following year. Sometimes when the landlord hadn’t had the foresight to provide himself with a foreigner like me to serve as the Great Spirit’s representative, the soldiers would bury the landlord under the trees instead and make off with the entire harvest. Such mutinous troops would also steal the wood of the trees to make clubs, for an army of cat-men equipped with reverie tree clubs was considered to be almost invincible.

And so it was that I came to be perched, like some giant and ungainly parrot, up there on the scaffold. Now what in hell was I doing that for? I was tempted to laugh, but refrained – after all, I didn’t want to interfere with the customs of the Cat People. Since I had come here in the first place to observe everything that I could, I’d just have to play along with things and join in their group activities no matter how ridiculous they might be. Fortunately there was a little breeze so it wasn’t too hot up there. I had Scorpion get someone to fetch me one of the grass covers that I had woven to cover my food with, which I used as a sun hat. I wasn’t going to be a victim of sunstroke if I could help it.

Except for a feather behind the ear and a club in the hand, there was no difference between a soldier and an ordinary cat-man. The club and feather gave them positions superior to those of ordinary cat-men, but then under the burden of Scorpion’s hypnotic command, they probably suffered a bit more than ordinary cat-men too.

Soon I was able to see the trunks of the reverie trees, which had previously been hidden by a dense growth of leaves. It was somewhat like watching silkworms strip a mulberry tree. Before long, the soldiers were at the tops of the trees. I noticed that those who were closest to me were picking with one hand and shading their eyes with the other. They probably thought that looking at me directly would harm them in some way!

It isn’t really that the cat-men can’t work, I thought to myself. If only they had a good leader who would forbid them to eat the reverie leaves, they might really be quite productive. Supposing I were to drive Scorpion off and become landlord in his place. Supposing I were to become their leader . . . but this was just idle thought and I didn’t dare go too far with it, for I still didn’t completely understand the Cat People to begin with.

Just as I was musing in this vein, I saw Scorpion’s club zeroing in on the head of a soldier. I knew that even if I jumped down, I still wouldn’t get there in time to stop him. But I felt I had to make a try anyway, for in my eyes Scorpion was much more hateful than the soldiers and I could still take advantage of the opportunity to show him a thing or two. Crawling to a spot that was only a few yards from the ground, I jumped down and ran over to them. But by the time I got there, the soldier was already lying on the ground and Scorpion was already issuing the order to bury him.

A man who doesn’t fully understand the ways of thinking of those around him often hurts people out of the best of intentions, and so it was with me. When I jumped, the soldiers thought that I was about to begin unleashing bolts of lightning, and as I hit the ground I heard a number of thuds as they leapt down from the trees on all sides. The majority of them had probably suffered injury, for I heard them crying piteously. But I was too carried away by anger towards Scorpion to pay any attention. Scorpion probably thought that I had seen him punishing a soldier and had come down to help. Since I had been so tractable in every other way that morning, it was natural perhaps for him to assume that I would serve as his flunky in everything. Hence, he was taken completely aback when I grabbed him. He himself probably didn’t see anything at all wrong in killing a mere soldier. ‘Why did you kill him?’ I demanded.

‘Because he was eating the stem of a leaf behind our backs.’

‘Do you mean to say that you think simply because a man eats the stem of a leaf, you can . . .’ I didn’t bother to go on. I had forgotten for a moment that I was in the midst of Cat People, and that there’s no point in reasoning with them. I beckoned to the soldiers standing around and said, ‘
Tie him up!
’ They all looked at each other as though they didn’t understand what I meant. ‘Tie him up!’ I said again, more slowly and distinctly this time, but they still made no move. Their lack of initiative disheartened me. If ever I were to be given command of a body of troops like this, I’d probably never be able to get them to understand me. It was not out of affection for Scorpion that they dared not come forward, but rather because they simply didn’t understand me – that I might be doing all this to avenge the fallen soldier was totally beyond their comprehension. I’d gotten myself in another bind: if I let Scorpion off scot-free, he’d certainly lose all respect for me; but if I killed him, I wouldn’t have him around to help me during the many times in the future when I’d certainly need him. With regard to my future plans for taking in the sights on Mars – at least this part of the planet – he would certainly prove more useful than this motley crew of soldiers. Pretending to be calm, I asked, ‘Do you want to accept your punishment, or would you prefer me to sit up there on the scaffold and let the soldiers steal the leaves without doing anything about it?’

When the soldiers heard me talk about permitting them to steal reverie leaves, they became so excited that a few of them misinterpreted my question as the go-ahead signal. While holding Scorpion in one hand, I had to kick two of them to the ground. The rest stopped dead in their tracks. Scorpion’s eyes had already narrowed into two tiny slits. I knew how, in his heart of hearts, he must hate me. He had personally invited me in as the representative of the Great Spirit, and now here I was, turning on him and disciplining him before his own troops – that must have been hard to take. Of course, it would never have occurred to him that, in killing a man for eating a piece of the stem of a reverie leaf, he had done anything wrong.

In the end, he decided against calling my bluff and acknowledged my right to punish him. I asked him what compensation the soldiers got for harvesting the reverie leaves. He said that each man would get two small leaves. At this point, all around us, the soldiers’ ears pricked up. They probably thought I was going to punish Scorpion by forcing him to give them extra leaves. Instead, however, I told him to give each of them a regular meal after the harvest just like the one I had every evening. Upon hearing this, their ears all dropped flat against their heads and their vocal cords produced a sound like that of a man choking on his food. To them, this was a most unsatisfactory way of resolving things. As for the dead soldier, I told Scorpion to indemnify his family to the tune of one hundred National Souls. He agreed. I asked the soldiers where this man’s family lived, but not one of them said anything. The Cat People were not accustomed to helping in anything that might be beneficial to someone else, even if that help only cost them a few words. That’s something else that I didn’t learn until I had lived in Cat Country for several months. Since we couldn’t find out where the man’s family was, Scorpion lucked out again and was saved a hundred National Souls.

BEING A FOREIGNER DOES HAVE ITS ADVANTAGES

T
HE REVERIE
leaves were all harvested. There was a breeze every day now and the temperature had gone down by ten degrees. From time to time black clouds floated across the grey sky, but there was no rain at all. It was at the beginning of the active season that the landlords took the reverie leaves into the city. Although deep down in his heart he was something less than happy with me, Scorpion had to feign friendliness in order to get me to accompany him into the city. Without me, he knew he wouldn’t be safe and might well lose his life in protecting the leaves.

The reverie leaves were all sun-dried and baled. A team of two soldiers was responsible for transporting each bale, which they took turns carrying on their heads. Scorpion led the way, carried by four soldiers. His spine was flattened out so as to rest on the four heads of the troops. Two tall soldiers held his feet in place, while another man brought up the rear, propping up his neck. In Cat Country this mode of travel was the most prestigious, if not the most comfortable. The twenty bodyguard-musicians marched on either side of the column with their musical instruments in their hands. If any of the soldiers did anything out of order, such as tearing a hole in one of the bales in order to enjoy the aroma of the leaves, then one of the bodyguards would musically signal the fact to Scorpion. (Everything in Cat Country must have a practical application, and music is no exception, for musicians double as spies.)

My position was at the very centre of the column so I could keep an eye on those to my fore and aft. Originally Scorpion had seven bearers set aside for me too, but I told him I’d much rather walk and had no desire for this kind of special treatment. But Scorpion wouldn’t give in so easily. He quoted the Cat Country Classics at me, ‘And of bearers, our emperor shall have two score and one; our feudal lords, three times five; and our nobles, seven . . .’ He informed me this was a custom that had been passed down from ancient times as a way of marking social distinctions. To destroy such a custom would be unthinkable and, furthermore, he just wouldn’t permit it. However, I remained adamant. Then he quoted a folk saying at me:

When a noble on his feet must go,

In shame his ancestors’ faces hang low.

I told him that my ancestors wouldn’t feel the least bit ashamed. Then, on the verge of tears, he quoted two lines of their
Poetry Classic
:

Raise high your face the blessed leaf to eat,

And spend your life as one of our elite.

‘To hell with you and your nobles!’ I couldn’t think of a suitable line of poetry to quote back and was reduced to this uncouth reply. Scorpion sighed. I am sure that within the narrow confines of his heart he was swearing me into a bloody pulp, but he didn’t dare express such critical sentiments openly.

We wasted almost two and a half hours just on lining up. Altogether Scorpion must have got up on, and down from, his bearers’ heads at least seven times. It seemed that the cat-soldiers were determined not to get into an orderly formation. They must have been aware by now that I was not entirely on Scorpion’s side, and for that reason, Scorpion no longer dared to break open their heads at will. And no matter how Scorpion swore at or castigated them, they just wouldn’t form a straight line. At last Scorpion gave up and ordered them to forward-march no matter how uneven the formation was.

Just as we were finally about to depart, several white-tailed hawks flew towards us. Scorpion jumped down again and addressed his men. ‘It’s very unlucky to meet hawks when setting out on a journey; we’ll put it off until tomorrow.’

I pulled out my revolver. ‘If we don’t go now, we’re never going.’ Scorpion’s face turned green with anger. Flabbergasted, he opened and closed his mouth several times, but nothing came out. He knew that it wouldn’t do any good to argue with me, but at the same time he also felt that setting out on a journey in violation of a taboo was a very dangerous business. He hemmed and hawed another ten minutes or so before he climbed back up on the heads of the bearers and prepared to set out. He was trembling all over when the column finally started moving. I don’t know whether it was because I had made him so angry that he couldn’t lie steady, or whether it was because the bearers were intentionally playing tricks on him, but at any rate, before we’d been on the road very long, Scorpion had already fallen off several times. But as soon as he fell off, he’d crawl right back up there again. You see, Scorpion had a heavy sense of responsibility for preserving the customs handed down by his ancestors.

Wherever there was space along the route – on the sides of trees, on stones, on broken fragments of wall – messages in large white characters were scrawled:

WELCOME SCORPION; SCORPION IS A GREAT MAN WHO EXHAUSTS HIS STRENGTH IN IMPROVING THE NATIONAL DIET; SCORPION’S SOLDIERS HOLD HIGH THE CLUBS OF RIGHTEOUSNESS; WITHOUT SCORPION WE WOULDN’T HAVE THIS YEAR’S BUMPER CROP