Carmen Boullosa - Cleopatra Dismounts

Neptune placed his erect penis into the red eye of his lower belly, to seal it. The rest of his penis remained in the place where males have it. Then he sank back down below the surface, slowly. While the Tritons blew their horns, silvery sperm was scattered around. When only his head was visible, he spoke his last words, “You will reign in a palace made for daylight. I return to mine, the male palace, which lives out by night all the hours of the day.”

The sea settled back to calm, the opening of the god closed over. The Nereids continued with their introductions.

“I am Nesaie, lady queen, she who surrounds islands,” said one.

When another of these beauties said to me, “I am Kymo, the wave,” an immense wave lifted up the bull and me. One after another, without seeing any of them, I heard them calling, “I am Pontoporeia; I lead the seas to places beyond the sea. . I am Protho, she who drives the waters forward. . I am Eulimene; I guide sailors to safe harbors. .” The wave burst and a mass of foam abruptly deposited us on the sandy shore, close to the mouth of a river.

The bull shook off the water. It no longer emitted the divine odor. It did not transform itself into a man and loose my girdle to have intercourse with me. Instead, it half-turned away. It now had a fish’s tail. It ran back to the sea and again began to swim like a dolphin, its feet moving like oars. Its desire had been to fertilize me with a dream.

The round, enormous sun, still a peachy orange, rested on the horizon. I turned my eyes from the sea and surveyed our landing spot. At first glance I thought it was Themiskira, on the banks of the Thermidon River, for there to receive me were the Amazons, mounted on splendid steeds, drawn up in military formation, a strap of viper’s skin holding in place the bow and quiver, the only covering for their chests, long hair disheveled, discolored by sun and salt, in the most barbaric disarray. They wore strange-looking boots, tied by gleaming laces. On foot, on both sides of the queen and her captains, stood two dozen stately old men as her guardians.

The sight of the army, illuminated by the setting sun that covered it with a velvety peachy fuzz, as if turning these warriors into fruits, was impressive. How many women there were, and how handsome! I walked toward them. On the fine horses and on the women’s attractive bodies glittered lines of precious stones. The horses’ heads were decorated with purple tassels and their reins were gilded. The foreheads of the Amazons were decorated with a stiff curl. Each one was a Venus, but an earthy, savage Venus. I could imagine them emerging from the earth the way Venus emerged from the sea!

My clothes were wet and most likely my hair looked as messy as theirs. I ran my hands through it and realized that it had come loose, dropping down to my shoulders and onto my back. Then I fiddled with my forehead trying to arrange a curl like theirs. As if responding to a silent order, one of the long-bearded elders, dressed in Greek style like the other elders, hurried forward and with a tiny gold knife clipped a lock of my hair. Officiously, with an ointment one of his fellows brought him, he arranged a curl that clung to my forehead. It must have resembled the Amazons’ lock, a small twist of bright hair, the start of a spiral, shining on my temples like a breaking smile.

He said to me, “It’s called the curl of Aphrodite.”

The sound of his voice brought to mind his identity, despite the years that had passed and aged him. He was Acusilaus, the poet exiled by Caesar.

“Give them a sign of friendship, your Majesty,” he whispered in my ear. “Take off your cloak or something.”

I pulled off my clothing and dropped it on the sand. The formation of Amazons approached. They rode with incomparable elegance, combining ease with energy, their two bare legs bent over the dark, shiny hide of their mounts, their torsos erect, knees forward, the pale-colored reins loose in their hands. They were of many different races. The queen had an olive skin and was as tall and thin as a stalk of wheat. The arrangement or disarrangement of her hair was slightly different from that of the others. She wore it like Rodogun, the Persian queen, who, according to legend, was washing her hair when she was informed that a subject tribe had risen in revolt. She hurriedly arranged her hair as best she could, swearing that she would not finish washing it or even comb it until the rebellion had been quashed. With that, she leapt onto her horse, a magnificent mare called Niseana, and galloped off to war. One half of her hair was modestly arranged, as befitted her self-control; the other floated wild, like a Bacchant’s, and bespoke her furious energy. Also, like Rodogun, the way in which her eyebrows arched upward from the point where they met above her nose delighted me with their strong curve. Her eyes were a mixture of black and gray, cheerful eyes, naturally handsome, as haughty as a leader’s ought to be. Her mouth was delicately formed, as if the work of love and loving, and its very shape seemed to speak of kisses. The captain to her right was short and chubby, white-skinned, her light-colored nipples barely visible on her tiny breasts. Her hair was almost gray; at least it looked gray in this light, tossed back and, like that of the others, falling down between her shoulderblades. There were other women with eyes as light as honey or as dark and fiery as a horse’s back — all the horses were virtually identical as if bred from one original pair — or as blue as the sky or the sea or as wild as waving wheat. Other eyes flashed between huge rims, others were elongated and small, still others rounded. Some had rosy faces, some were pale, and others yellowish; there were all shades of dark, and one was as white as the foam of the sea-nymph Galataiera. Women tall and short, women robust and delicate. All the races of the world welcomed me, offering me their finest specimens.

The queen dismounted with a single leap. The masses of Amazons did likewise. The majority sat down by the horses’ feet, but the queen and her captains came forward.

Behind them, musicians began to play uncanny music but stopped the second that the queen and her captains reached me. Even now, without horses under them, they retained something of the air of centaurs about them, indomitable, elegant, glowing with beauty, with a freedom and confidence in their movements, found only among the most privileged males. But there was nothing masculine about them. Strands of semiprecious stones crossed the edges of their breasts, their groins, and their ankles. The latter were used to fasten their high footwear, which resembled Phrygian boots except that they were made of wild animal skins. These women literally glowed; they had no cause to be envious of the Nereids. One of them crowned me with a wreath of flowers.

“Welcome, Cleopatra,” said the queen, before I could say a word myself. “It is written: It is not recorded that any flock rebelled against its shepherd, either to thwart him or to prevent him using their products, but all the same, these flocks are unfriendly to all strangers, more so than to those who control and exploit them. Men, however. .”

She paused. Her troops rose to their feet and followed the footsteps of their queen toward me, approaching extremely close and bringing their saddleless horses with them, so close that the tassels dangled before my face.

“Men,” the queen repeated in a disgusted tone. Her followers hissed with intenser disgust. “Men!” said the queen a third time and her followers hissed again, louder this time, some booing and others bursting into scornful laughter. “Human beings,” continued the queen, in a change of tone that quietened the expressions of contempt, “human beings, female and male—” She said “male” too fast for the others to react to it with hostility, “rebel against only those in whom they detect an intention to rule them wisely. Let a governor prove an egoistic tyrant, who robs their wealth, abuses them, exploits them, and corrupts them with bribes and violence, and they will adore his stupidity and misrule. Let his government be just and prudent, they will pay him back with insurrections and defiance. Today we welcome a queen, who, like Ciro, used her wisdom to subdue the haughty Egyptians. Her subjects were many, her mighty cities benefited from her good government. Your Majesty, Queen Cleopatra, queen of kings, we, the Amazons, declare ourselves your subjects. The queen will return to her throne. She will increase the riches and widen the boundaries of Egypt. She will subjugate cities without number and we shall be her allies, her friends, her right arm in war, subjects of unquestioned loyalty. The pause in the rule of Cleopatra is only temporary; it is the result of her father’s poor choice, because a woman does not need the aid of a weakling brother to authorize her possession of a throne.”