Cat Country (21 page)

‘Fine. But I ought to warn you that I don’t know a great deal about female things,’ I said, imitating the smile and tone of voice that Young Scorpion used in addressing them.

‘Tell us what Earth women are like,’ they all asked as if with a single voice.

I felt relieved, for I knew that I could give them a fairly entertaining answer. ‘Well, let’s see . . . our women all rub powder on their faces,’ (they all ‘Oh-ed!’ at that), ‘and arrange their hair to make it look as beautiful as possible. Some wear it long; some short; some comb it into a parting; and still others comb it straight back. And every blessed one of them uses perfume and aromatic oils.’ As they looked at each other’s very, very short hair, their mouths all dropped wide open; then they closed them again in unison, seeming utterly disappointed.

‘They dangle pearls and other precious stones from their ears so that when they walk these little baubles swing to and fro in a most pleasing manner.’ They all began to feel their tiny cat-ears set towards the backs of their skulls, and one of them – I think it was Blossom – seemed so disappointed that she would have liked to wrench her ears right off her pretty little head. ‘Earth women wear very pretty clothes. It’s rather curious, for although they have beautiful clothes, they’re always devising ways to expose a little more of their flesh. The charming result of all this is that they’re partially hidden and partially exposed at the same time. They’re really much more interesting looking than women like you who go completely nude all the time.’ I had decided to tease them a bit.

‘By going stark naked, you reveal only the beauty of the flesh; and when you come to think of it, one colour – even flesh colour – gets a bit monotonous after a while. By wearing clothes of different hues, our Earth women are able to look colourful and varied at the same time. That’s the reason that, although they are not really opposed to going nude, they continue to wear some scrap of clothing even in the hottest month of summer.

‘What’s more, our Earth women all wear shoes made of leather and brocaded satin that have raised heels. They stud the toes with pearls and embroider flowers on the heels. Does that sound pretty to you?’ I waited for a reply, but there was no reaction. They just sat there, their mouths all forming large zeros. ‘In antiquity our women sometimes bound their feet until they’d get them as tiny as this.’ I brought my thumb and forefinger together to give them an idea of the size. ‘But nobody binds a girl’s feet any more. Now we’ve changed to . . .’

Before I had finished my sentence, they all asked with a single voice, ‘Why have you stopped binding them? Why? That’s a stupid thing to do. Such tiny feet must have been very cute, and then to set off such cute little feet with pearls set in the toe of the shoe – that must have been exquisite!’ It seemed that they were all genuinely worked-up over the painful custom’s falling into disuse – and I felt that I’d better calm them down. ‘Don’t rush things! I haven’t finished yet. All right, they quit binding their feet, right? But then they all started wearing high heels! The toe of the shoe is here,’ I pointed to the tip of my nose, ‘but the bottom of the woman’s heel is way up here.’ I pointed at the top of my head. ‘Just think, they can add five inches to their height and twist the bones of their feet out of shape to boot! Better yet, sometimes they even have to lean against walls just to walk; and if a heel breaks off, they have to limp along like hobbled horses!’ They all seemed to feel much better now. But as they sat around me there on the floor and came to admire the women of Earth, the more disappointed they became with themselves.As I finished my disquisition on shoes, I noticed that they had all slipped their feet out of sight under their buttocks.

I waited for them to ask me more questions, but it seemed that my description of high-heeled shoes had cast them under a spell. Then suddenly they all burst forth in another flurry of questions.

‘How high are the heels?’

‘You said they have flowers on them, right?’

‘Don’t the heels make a click-clack noise when the women walk?’

‘How do the bones get twisted out of shape? Does it happen naturally because the women wear such shoes, or must the bones first be bent awry before such shoes can be worn?’

‘Can you make shoes of human skin as well as animal hide?’

‘What kinds of flowers do you embroider on them? What colours do you use?’

I could see that had I been a shoemaker, my fortune would have been assured. I was just about to tell them how, in addition to learning to wear high heels, our Earth women have also learned how to take jobs, but just at that point the scholars came in.

‘Revery,’ said Young Scorpion, ‘go and prepare some reverie leaf juice.’ Then he addressed Blossom and the other girls. ‘Why don’t you go somewhere else to continue your discussion of high heels?’

One after another, eight scholars came through the door, bowed towards Young Scorpion and then sat on the floor. With upturned faces, they all sat staring at the ceiling. Not one of them deigned to acknowledge my presence with so much as a glance.

Revery brought in the juice, and after they’d all had a good leisurely drink, they seemed even less inclined to notice me. Actually, it was all to the good that they ignored me, for it gave me an opportunity to observe
them
closely. They were all extremely thin and exceedingly dirty. There was a satchelful of dirt in each of the little ears perched on the backs of their heads, and suds of saliva had collected at the corners of their mouths. Their movements were very slow, even slower and stealthier than Old Scorpion’s by quite a degree.

The power of the juice had begun to reach down to the roots of their being. They opened their eyes wide and stared at the ceiling again. Suddenly, one of them began speaking.

‘Am I not the foremost scholar in all of Cat Country?’ His eyes quickly swept all around and even seemed to pause on me a bit.

The other seven had all been aroused to movement by his question. Some scratched their heads, some gritted their teeth, and others stuck their fingers in their noses. Then they said in unison, ‘You? The foremost? Even if you threw in your father – and your grandfather for that matter – the three generations of you would still all be bastards!’

I was sure that they were about to come to blows, but much to my surprise the scholar who had arrogated first place unto himself began to laugh. Perhaps he has grown accustomed to being abused, I thought to myself.

‘My grandfather, my father and myself have been studying astronomy now for three generations. Who do the rest of you think you are anyway to feel qualified to criticise such an eminent family of astronomers?

The foreigners have to use all sorts of gadgets and mirrors when they do research in astronomy, but it’s been our tradition for generations to use the unaided eye. The unaided eye, gentlemen, the unaided eye! How can the foreigners compare to us? Moreover, we pay attention to discovering the relationship between the stars in the sky above and good and bad fortune in the world of men below! Are the foreign astronomers capable of that? And as for being foremost scholar, let me tell you that while I was observing astronomical phenomena last night, the Star of Scholarship appeared over my head! Now if I’m not the foremost scholar in all the land, I’d like to know who is!’

Young Scorpion laughed and said, ‘If I’d been standing outside with you last night, couldn’t I say that the Star of Scholarship had appeared over my head too?’

‘The words of His Highness, Young Scorpion, are absolutely correct!’ said the astronomer, bowing to the superior wisdom of his young ruler.

‘The words of His Highness are absolutely correct!’ the other seven chimed in.

For what seemed like ages nobody said anything.

‘Speak!’ Young Scorpion ordered.

One of them stood up. ‘Am I not the foremost scholar in all of Cat Country?’ His eyes, too, made a quick sweep in all directions. “Can astronomy even be counted as scholarship in the first place? Everyone knows that it can’t. In order to take up any kind of study, you must first be able to recognise our written characters. Therefore, philology is the only branch of learning worthy of the name. I’ve been studying philology for thirty years. Thirty years! Who among you can possibly have the gall to dispute my position as first scholar? Who?’

‘Ah, go blow it out of your arse!’ they all suggested in unison.

However, the philologist was not, it seemed, as easygoing as the astronomer. He grabbed hold of a historian and yelled, ‘Who do you think you’re talking to anyway! First of all, pay me back what you owe me! Did you or did you not once borrow a reverie leaf from me? If you don’t pay me back immediately, then I’ll twist your head clean off your shoulders, or else I’m not the foremost scholar!’

‘
I
borrowed a reverie leaf from
you
? I, a world-renowned historian, borrowed a reverie leaf from the likes of you? Let go of me! Don’t get my arm dirty!’

‘So you think you can eat a man’s reverie leaves and then just forget about it, do you? Well, we’ll see about that. Just wait until I finish my
Comprehensive Discussions of Philology
and see if your surname is to be found in it. As the foremost philologist of all Cat Country, I shall proclaim to the rest of the planet that the character used to write your surname is not to be found in the written characters of archaic Felinese. Wait and see if I don’t!’

At this point the historian seemed genuinely concerned, and began to plead with Young Scorpion. ‘Your Highness, Your Highness, hurry up and give me a reverie leaf so that I can pay him back. Although I am the foremost scholar and historian in Cat Country, as Your Highness well knows, scholars don’t have any money. Since I am indigent, perhaps at sometime I actually did borrow a reverie leaf from the bastard. I don’t really remember. Speaking of reverie leaves, Your Highness, there’s something else that I just have to bring up. Please put in a word for us with His Old Highness, your father, and ask him to distribute some more reverie leaves to the scholars. It doesn’t matter so much when ordinary people are without reverie leaves, but when we who are scholars are without them – especially me, the
foremost
scholar – then how are we to pursue our scholarly activities?

‘You see, Your Highness, only recently I have been engaged in further research on the methods of punishments employed in antiquity, and I have established beyond all doubt that the ancients used to skin people alive. I shall present you with an article on this in the near future with the humble request that you pass it on to your father. Ask him to pass it on to the emperor when he’s through with it so that his Imperial Highness may revive this fascinating, and culturally rooted, mode of punishment. Should I not be counted as foremost scholar of the realm on the basis of this discovery alone?’ He turned to the philologist. ‘What do you think you are anyway, you mere philologist. History is the only genuine discipline.’

‘And is history written with characters or isn’t it? Give me back that reverie leaf that you owe me!’ the philologist said.

Young Scorpion had Revery give a reverie leaf to the historian. The latter tore it in two and handed half of it over to the philologist. ‘All right I’ll pay you back, although I really shouldn’t.’

The philologist accepted the half and then said through gritted teeth, ‘You’ve short-changed me by half. All right, it’ll be a wonder if I don’t make off with your old woman after such treatment. You just wait and see!’

The words ‘old woman’ seemed to make the rest of the scholars unusually excited. They all addressed Scorpion in chorus, ‘Your Highness! Your Highness! Why should it be that we scholars are only allowed one wife apiece so that we have to get excited and talk about stealing other people’s old women? We are scholars, Your Highness. We bring honour upon the whole nation. We preserve and pass on the learning of our ancestors unto our children, grandchildren, and the posterity of the nation for ten thousand generations to come. Why shouldn’t each of us have three wives at least?’

Young Scorpion didn’t say anything.

‘All you have to do is go to the heavenly bodies for an example. A large star is bound to have several small stars around it. Since this is the way of heaven, should the way of man be any different? I believe that the position of foremost scholar is, in and of itself, clear evidence that a man is entitled to several wives. What’s more, my own wife’s “that” is not too much fun to use any more!’

The philologist followed the astronomer with proofs of his own. ‘Just on the basis of the word alone, we can tell that it should be “old women” in the plural, not the singular. In olden times our ancestors used the woman radical with amazing frequency in creating new words. Isn’t the plural form of the original word patent evidence in itself that our ancient ancestors intended the plural use of women too? On the basis of my position as foremost scholar, I can demonstrate that “wives” never had a singular form. What’s more . . .’ The rest of what he had to say is not fit to record.

Each of the scholars, one after another, by virtue of his position as ‘foremost scholar of the realm’, offered proofs of his own for the plurality of ‘wives’. And each of them brought forth some evidence that is not fit to print. Listening to their speeches, I gained the general impression that in the eyes of these eminent scholars, women were nothing more than ‘that’.

Young Scorpion remained silent.

‘Perhaps His Highness is a bit fatigued,’ they said. ‘We . . .’

‘Revery, give them a few more reverie leaves then tell them to beat it,’ said Scorpion, closing his eyes.

‘Thank you, Your Highness. Thank you for your understanding!’ They intoned the same formula in unison.

Revery brought in a bundle of leaves and each of the scholars grabbed as many as he could. They cursed and reviled each other while snatching the leaves, and between curses they bowed in the direction of Young Scorpion to express their thanks. Still cursing each other, they walked out.

No sooner had this group of scholars left than a group of young scholars came in. Apparently they had already been waiting outside for a good long time, but because they wanted to avoid contact with their seniors, they had forced themselves to be patient all this time. (You see, in Cat Country, experience had shown that whenever junior and senior scholars come into contact, at least two of their number are sure to die.)