This was what I sought—to instil in Charlemagne a desire to dominate the Church, without being part of it. Thus sooner or later the two powers would clash and destroy each other. The proverb about a house divided against itself still held true.
My position at the Court was all the more important and influential because of its indeterminate character. I was merely a monk, officially,—but in reality, I was His Majesty’s physician and chief adviser in scholastic and political matters: also frequently in religious controversies. It became very soon apparent that I was impervious to bribes of all kinds. My enemies sent maidens, delicate and voluptuous, to gain my confidence. When the feminine messengers failed, the subtle priests entrusted their mission to ingratiating and complaisant young men. When those seductions proved equally ineffective it was whispered about that I was a eunuch.
My experiments with a balloon inflated by gas proved my undoing. It gave the church a pretext to accuse me of witchcraft, and to rob me of my wealth.
Even the Emperor resented the invention which, crossing the borders with impunity, reduced the might of princes to nothing.
Once more I fled.
XLI: WHITHER?—THE NEW JEW—THE LAND WHERE MEN WEAR SKIRTS—A CLUE
FOR a long while I lived among prostitutes and beggars. I experienced stark poverty, even hunger. It was a new, and therefore not unwelcome sensation. I regained wealth, however, by being a saint and dwelling in a tower curing the lame and the blind in the name of the Cross.
Two generations passed. Once more I was a rich man. Fortune, like an obedient bitch, comes to him who waits.
Weary of incense and sanctity, I sailed upon the Mediterranean! Oh beautiful sea, eternal and unchanging, and unperturbed! Cartaphilus may also be eternal, but he must change always, and always in his heart must be a storm and a great wind, and now and then, a shipwreck.
Whither? To what part was the boat sailing? What did it matter? All things were relative,—time, space, and Cartaphilus. Cartaphilus more than all else. Just now, he was a Greek of Constantinople, a merchant of moderate means and moderate tastes.
Several merchants, tried to interest me in their business, promising me great fortunes. One in particular was persistent. He was a very handsome Arab, who had read much and travelled extensively. What he desired to do, if only he could obtain sufficient funds and a partner as clever and as presentable as I, was to open an establishment—very exclusive and elegant, of course—where men and women could find delectation.
“Nothing is as profitable in this world, sir, as sex and religion. A young man like you,” he added, “must be very careful how he invests his money.”
I smiled. “I am older than you think.”
He scrutinized me. “Not one day older than thirty.”
“True. But is not thirty a sufficient age for understanding?”
He laughed. “I am thirty-five. You would be astounded how much I had to learn—and lose—from thirty to thirty-five.”
“What then would you call the age of reason?”
“Thirty-five.” The Arab alternated his remarks about business with pungent aphorisms about life and women.
“The Koran is right. Woman must always be man’s slave. He must crack the whip, else– —” he laughed. “They say that in Africa there is a nation where men wear skirts. Imagine that! A nation ruled by woman, where men are women’s slaves, where female chieftains have harems of males!”
“What is the religion of this country?” I asked.
“They worship a parrot.”
‘A parrot,’ I mused. ‘Women having harems of men.’ How much was truth, how much invention?
“In Africa, you said?”
“Just beyond the desert.”
‘Just beyond the desert—a woman ruler and a parrot god.’ Something within me cried out: ‘Salome—Kotikokura.’
The Arab pulled me aside and showed me a ring with a small opal. “Anyone who wears this is bound to be lucky, for it was worn by the Prophet’s nephew—may he be blessed forever! I shall present it to you for a trifling sum.”
He mentioned a price about ten times greater than its actual value. I had learned enough from him to pay for my lesson. “It fits your finger as if it had been made expressly for you. You are the Man of Destiny.”
“What destiny?” I asked.
He smiled. “Who knows?” Walking off, he muttered in Hebrew: “What fools these Gentiles are! “ I was startled. This Arab was a Jew—the new Jew, the Jew that had drifted from Palestine—but nevertheless, a Jew!
Meanwhile, something much more important occupied my mind. Was it possible to find both Kotikokura and Salome again?
Who but Salome would think of establishing a matriarchy, with a harem of men? Where would Kotikokura go, if not to his native land? Curiosity, vanity, natural instinct, would prompt him to revisit Africa. Also, perhaps, the feeling that I would seek him where I had originally found him.
Was it possible that so much joy awaited me? I turned the ring about my finger. Would it really bring me good luck? Life was illogical. If two bits of wood nailed in opposite directions could work miracles, why not this ring?
XLII: THE SACRED PARROT—MASCULINE REVOLT—SALOME’S SACRILEGE—THE HIGH PRIEST OF CA-TA-PHA—THE SEX OF GOD
I BOUGHT camels and hired four experienced drivers who had crossed the desert several times. I asked them whether they had heard about the country where men were the slaves of women and a queen ruled. They answered that beyond the desert everything was possible.
I bought a young parrot, whom I taught to say.—”Carr-tarr-pharr…” and perch upon my camel’s head. The drivers were much amused at my whim, and made many puns on the word.
With the exception of a mild sandstorm, the passage was uneventful and suited my mood exceedingly. One morning, the drivers pointed ahead of us. “Look, Prince! Smoke! We have reached the end of our journey.”
I paid them what we had agreed upon, to which I added valuable gifts. I kept only my camel and the parrot and one day’s food and water. The other animals and the rest of the provisions I allowed the men to take back with them.
I waited until sunset, and having painted the sun upon my turban, the moon upon the camel’s forehead and dotted the parrot’s beak as of yore, I began my ride in the direction of the smoke.
As I approached, I heard the violent beating of an iron kettle and I saw many men run from various directions. I thought it advisable to hide within hearing distance. A large tree served my purpose admirably. The parrot was asleep, and the camel, weary from the travel, did not stir.
A man waved his arms violently, and shouted at the top of his voice. The rest formed a circle about him. “How long will you endure the tyranny of this terrible queen and of her women?”
The language was that of my tribe, with the exception of a few words, which seemed a corruption of some European tongue.
“Are you such cowards indeed? Are you not men?”
“Yes, yes!” growled the others.
“Has not God Ca-ta-pha made man in His image?”
“Yes, yes!”
“Woman is an unclean animal!”
“True! True!”
“Have we not found comradeship more pleasant than the love of our women?”
“More! More!”
“Shall we obey the order to become the fathers of their children?”
“No! No! By the Sacred Parrot, a thousand times, no!”
“Should we not rather die?”
“Yes, yes!”
“Can you forget the great history of our country, as our old men tell it to us, from generation to generation? Can you forget that Ca-ta-pha, Supreme God of Heaven, came Himself among us?”
“We shall never forget!”
“Has He not commanded man to rule woman?”