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
Scorpion had had the foresight to send emissaries on ahead to write all these things so that he might enjoy them as he went by.
We passed through several small villages where the inhabitants all sat leaning against broken walls. When the cat-soldiers passed in front of them, they all closed their eyes, not even daring to take so much as a peek. If they are afraid of the soldiers, I thought, why don’t they hide? Or if they aren’t afraid, why is it that they don’t dare to open their eyes? I just couldn’t figure it out. But when I took a closer look, I began to understand. These were, it turned out, members of the village welcoming committee. I could tell because there were large characters written on the fine grey hair on their heads. One character on each man’s head, so that several of them together formed such phrases as WELCOME SCORPION! Because the words had been written some time before by one of Scorpion’s advance emissaries, the characters were already somewhat faded and indistinct. Although the villagers all sat with their eyes closed, Scorpion still nodded towards them in appreciation of the welcome, just as though the whole thing were for real. These villagers were all under the ‘protection’ of Scorpion. The run-down and filthy condition of the village, the emaciated, filthy, listless condition of the inhabitants all testified to how well their protector had fulfilled his responsibilities. I began to hate Scorpion even more than before.
Had I been alone, I probably could have made the journey to Cat City in half a day. Travelling with cat-soldiers, however, is the most rigorous test of one’s patience that can possibly be imagined. I well knew that the Cat People could, in fact, travel with great speed, but not when they’re serving as soldiers. For the faster a cat-soldier gets to the front, the sooner he dies. Therefore the cat-troops were all well known for being slow and deliberate. They would march calmly and slowly to the front as if half asleep, but when they closed with the enemy, their tempo would suddenly switch from largo to allegro
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
Scorpion had had the foresight to send emissaries on ahead to write all these things so that he might enjoy them as he went by.
We passed through several small villages where the inhabitants all sat leaning against broken walls. When the cat-soldiers passed in front of them, they all closed their eyes, not even daring to take so much as a peek. If they are afraid of the soldiers, I thought, why don’t they hide? Or if they aren’t afraid, why is it that they don’t dare to open their eyes? I just couldn’t figure it out. But when I took a closer look, I began to understand. These were, it turned out, members of the village welcoming committee. I could tell because there were large characters written on the fine grey hair on their heads. One character on each man’s head, so that several of them together formed such phrases as WELCOME SCORPION! Because the words had been written some time before by one of Scorpion’s advance emissaries, the characters were already somewhat faded and indistinct. Although the villagers all sat with their eyes closed, Scorpion still nodded towards them in appreciation of the welcome, just as though the whole thing were for real. These villagers were all under the ‘protection’ of Scorpion. The run-down and filthy condition of the village, the emaciated, filthy, listless condition of the inhabitants all testified to how well their protector had fulfilled his responsibilities. I began to hate Scorpion even more than before.
Had I been alone, I probably could have made the journey to Cat City in half a day. Travelling with cat-soldiers, however, is the most rigorous test of one’s patience that can possibly be imagined. I well knew that the Cat People could, in fact, travel with great speed, but not when they’re serving as soldiers. For the faster a cat-soldier gets to the front, the sooner he dies. Therefore the cat-troops were all well known for being slow and deliberate. They would march calmly and slowly to the front as if half asleep, but when they closed with the enemy, their tempo would suddenly switch from largo to allegro
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