Michael Pearce - The Snake Catcher’s Daughter

It was different this time. He could tell that before it touched his lips. The fumes were heady. Owen had a particularly acute sense of smell and knew they were different. They reached up into his head and hung there. He tried to identify them but could not.

He wanted her to leave quickly so that he could breathe heavily to clear his head but she put the bowl to one side and squatted amicably on the floor.

“How often does she hold a Zzarr?” he asked.

Jalila smiled.

“As often as she can,” she said. “It pays her.”

“Half the meat?”

“And the fees. Everyone who comes, pays a fee. And then the ones who are possessed, they pay a lot.”

“I can understand that,” said Owen. “But why do the others pay?”

Jalila shrugged.

“They all like it,” she said. “It’s a bit of fun. There’s not much going on round here, after all. Not for women.”

“The Aalima wants it, women want it. I suppose the only thing that stops her having them all the time is the supply of people possessed by spirits.”

“There are always plenty of those,” said Jalila with a touch of scorn.

“You don’t think they’re really possessed?”

A loud blast of the dubertas and timbrels recalled Jalila to her duties. She stood up, a trifle regretfully.

“We’ve all got a bit of the devil in us,” she said.

He handed the bowl back to her. The move shot fresh fumes into the air.

“It’s a long night for you in here,” Jalila said.

Owen wondered if this was an invitation.

“I’ll try not to fall asleep,” he said.

Jalila laughed.

Like a girls’ party, he thought. In the courtyard the children danced. It was more crowded now and there were women among them. He could see by the taller, fuller forms. There was girlish laughter, the occasional high-pitched giggle.

Selim reappeared.

“Hello!” he said, sniffing. “What’s this?”

“What sent the Bimbashi to sleep.”

“Those bitches!”

“They don’t want me to see.”

“I should think not! The way they dance!”

“Is Aisha dancing too?”

“Like that? I hope not. I wouldn’t have thought she had it in her. Do you think she has it in her?” he asked Owen in worried tones.

“We’ve all got a bit of the devil in us,” said Owen.

He wondered how Selim’s wife was faring. He hoped she was all right. What if the supposedly possessed were given special treatment, some special drug of their own? He ought to have thought of that earlier.

“Smells a bit ripe in here,” said Selim.

“Yes,” said Owen, thinking.

After Selim had gone, he sat back slumped against the wall and did not move when Jalila next came in. He felt her cool hand touch his face. It hesitated, as if she were puzzled. Then she went out again.

A little later, doors were closed over the arch which separated the inner courtyard from the outer. There was a sudden bleating of animals.

Owen crept to the door.

In the courtyard now everything was still. The Aalima appeared at the door holding what seemed to be a huge basin. The animals were led up to her. There was a huge black ram and then two young white ones stained red with henna. Behind them were other animals, ganders, doves, rabbits. A man was standing there, blind, Owen judged, from his white eyes. He held a long knife and as each animal was led up, he slit its throat and held it over the Aalima’s basin.

The Aalima took the basin and went back indoors. Owen saw her appear at the other end of the mandar’ah. She went into the middle of the ring of women, dipped her arms suddenly in the basin and then threw blood all over them. The women screamed, then pressed forward, dipped their own arms in the basin, then threw.

The music burst out in a savage frenzy. The women began to writhe, twisting from side to side, leaning back as before but now dancing round on their heels with their heads up and their hair dangling out behind them. As they whirled, the Aalima continued to throw blood. The white gowns were all bespotted with red now, blood was on the women’s faces, in their hair. Girls’ party?

McPhee was disappointed afterwards.

“But, Owen,” he complained, “didn’t you see?”

“Well, of course I did,” said Owen defensively, “but-”

“The vestments? You must have noticed alb, amice and girdle?”

“Alb?”

“The long white gown.”

“Amice?”

“A square of white linen. Worn formerly on the head. Now on the shoulders.”

“She wore a sort of hood. That it?”

“Yes. And did you notice-I thought it was very significant-that when she served at the altar-”

“Altar? Oh, that table, you mean.”

“Really, Owen!” said McPhee severely. “I thought you told me that your father was a minister in the Church of England?”

“Yes, but, well, it’s not the same, is it? I mean, an altar is something you find in church-”

“Ah! But that’s it, you see. For them it was the same thing as being in a church. The offerings-”

“The animals, you mean? That old ram-?”

“Think of Abraham. Animals came before money, you know.”

“It seemed pretty gory to me.”

“But that’s just what I’ve been saying! Religious elements- I do wish you’d observed it more closely, Owen. I was particularly anxious that you confirmed my perception that when she was engaged on ceremonies at the altar she raised her amice, raised it above her head; I mean, that’s terribly significant: Capuchin, would you say, or Dominican?”

“Yes, but the gore-”

“Religious elements, Owen, but pre — Christian at the core. Cultic influence, I am sure. Baal, perhaps? Or perhaps Tammuz?”

“Well, I couldn’t say, offhand-”

“Didn’t you ask her anything?”

“We didn’t have a lot of time,” said Owen feebly. “She said she’d answer my questions tomorrow.”

“Well, mind you ask her that. Even so, Owen, a missed opportunity!” McPhee shook his head sadly. “A missed opportunity!”

“I spoke to Jalila.”

“Jalila?”

“She’s the one with the bowl.”

“Charming girl, charming. But it’s a pity you didn’t speak to one of the acolytes.”

“Acolytes?”

“Deaconesses, I call them. The ones with the maniples.”

“Oh!”

“I did ask Jalila-Jalila you said her name was? — about them. I asked her if they were virgins.”

“And what did she say?”

“ ‘Virgins born, effendi.’ ” McPhee frowned. “But that, of course, is not quite answering my question.”

“Well, I’ll ask it,” said Owen, “if I get an opportunity.”

“And the initiates.”

“What about the initiates?”

“Ask if they were virgins, too.”

“I don’t think I can go around asking everybody if they’re a virgin.”

“Well, perhaps not,” said McPhee, disappointed. “Only it would be so interesting to know.”

“It certainly would,” said Owen.

Selim was disappointed too.

“They shut the gate,” he complained. “Just when it was getting interesting.”

“You missed the best part,” said Aisha.

“There’s luck for you!” said Selim, crestfallen. “I was hoping that the next time I went round-”

“Next time?” said Owen.

“Well, that first time when I went to you, I didn’t go straight to you, if you know what I mean-”

“We know what you mean,” said Aisha.

“I thought there might be trouble later on, so I took a look around-”

“Look?” said Aisha.

“Well, all right, maybe a touch too, here and there.”

“Someone gave me a touch,” said Aisha.

“You?” said Selim, eyes starting out of his head. “You?”

“Of course it might have been someone else,” said Aisha, eyes smiling meekly over her veil.