The Totems of Abydos

CHAPTER 24





“It is impossible!” said Brenner, looking up at the great, carved head on the post.

“Not at all,” said Rodriguez. “And that is the least interesting thing about the matter.”

“I do not understand,” said Brenner.

“Do you mind if I look a bit into this cavern, or tunnel, or whatever it is behind the platform?” asked Rodriguez. “Such things tend to make me a bit nervous.”

Brenner shook his head.

Rodriguez thrust his torch into a nearby rack, or holder. There were many such things about, particularly on the walls. At times, Brenner conjectured, the room might be well lit with such devices. This place did not have look of disuse about it which characterized the platform in the open. Rodriguez then removed the weapon from his shoulder and armed it.

“Come along,” he said. “I do not anticipate any danger.”

Brenner, holding up the torch, followed Rodriguez about the edge of the platform, toward the entrance, or exit, as it might be, in the back wall.

“If this is a cave,” said Rodriguez, “it is almost bound to be empty. If it is a tunnel, it is almost certain to be sealed off.”

“Where does it lead?” asked Brenner, after a moment or two. It did, indeed, appear to be some sort of tunnel, or, at any rate, a long, narrow cave, of some length.

“I don’t know,” said Rodriguez.

They had come to a stout gate of timbers. This was reinforced from the back and, on the side which faced out, away from the room, was guarded by numerous, projecting spikes of sharpened wood, each, at its base, as thick as the body of a Pon.

“The gate suggests that this is a tunnel,” said Rodriguez. “And, if so, there is probably a similar barrier at the other end.”

“It seems they do not trust their totem,” said Brenner.

“The gate, or gates, may not be to fend away the totem,” said Rodriguez.

“True,” said Brenner. He recalled the tawny brute which had carried away Archimedes, and the beasts in the pack, in the forest. There might be many varieties of creature in the forest, which reportedly teemed with life.

“I see no tracks on the other side,” said Rodriguez. “Nothing may have come down that passage in a thousand years.”

“Let us go back to the main room,” said Brenner.

Rodriguez disarmed the rifle, returned it to its harmless guise, and replaced it, by means of its sling, on his shoulder.

“It is an incredible animal,” said Brenner, in a few moments, again looking up at the gigantic, carved head, that on the post at the right, forward corner of the platform.

“It is a most beautiful and dangerous creature,” said Rodriguez.

“Yes,” agreed Brenner.

“Now it becomes clear why the Pons accepted with such good grace your disproof, so to speak, of the git as their totem. It was not their totem.”

“But this!” said Brenner, looking up at the monstrous head.

“It is not that unusual to pick a terrifying, dangerous animal as a totem,” said Rodriguez. “There are many points in favor of doing so. Better to be allies with such a terror than its enemies, or prey. Too, you must see the advantage of such an arrangement from the point of view of the Pons, from the point of view of the primitive mind. They are “children of the totem.””

“And no animal devours its own young,” said Brenner.

“Precisely,” said Rodriguez. “Such a belief, too, interestingly, might even give them some security from the totem. In its presence, they would not be likely to sweat the exudates associated with terror, or to betray fear by awkward, or uncertain, or uncoordinated movements, arousing curiosity and aggression, or to flee from it, inciting pursuit, and so on. And, of course, if a dangerous totem animal does attack one once in a while, or eat one, or whatever, that can always be explained as the result of some hidden fault in the victim, some secret violation of taboo, such things.”

“Of course,” said Brenner. Such closed belief systems, like circles without openings, not susceptible to clear refutation, existed in their thousands in the galaxy. Interestingly, they tended to be taken seriously by their devotees. Their imperviousness to refutation, their immunity to disproof, a natural consequence of their vacuity, tended to be taken by many as evidence of their truth.

“And it is certainly not as if they were consorting with the beast on a familiar basis,” said Rodriguez.

“No,” agreed Brenner.

“We had best be getting back,” said Rodriguez.

“Why did they conceal the true nature of their totem?” asked Brenner.

“That is not that unusual,” said Rodriguez. “The totem animal is sacred. Its relationship to the totem group is quite sensitive. It is to be protected, perhaps even against enchantments or spells. They may not wish the identity of the totem to be known, for fear enemies might try to harm it. The name of the totem may be seldom mentioned. If it is mentioned, it may not be called by its own name, and so on.”

“I understand,” said Brenner.

“In some groups it is forbidden even to look upon the totem,” said Rodriguez.

“The Pon we met within the portal?” said Brenner.

“I do not think so,” said Rodriguez. “The Pons outside tonight, those within the palisade, dozens of them, looked upon the beast. I noted it. I watched them. Too, there are two explicit carvings of it, in this very room. Presumably Pons enter here. It seems certain that there is no taboo, or, at least, no general taboo, against Pons looking upon the totem animal.”

“Then what of the Pon we saw when we entered?” asked Brenner.

“I do not know,” said Rodriguez.

“His injuries were self-inflicted?”

“It seems so,” said Rodriguez.

“But why would he do such a thing to himself?” asked Brenner.

“Perhaps he witnessed the beatific vision,” said Rodriguez.

“I do not understand,” said Brenner.

“And did not care for it,” added Rodriguez.

“I do not understand,” said Brenner.

“It is not important,” said Rodriguez.

“Rodriguez,” protested Brenner.

“Many is the saint,” said Rodriguez, “who, granted a glimpse of his god, would cry out with horror.”

Brenner was silent.

“That is the “father,”” said Rodriguez, looking up at the great, painted head on the post. “And how many, in any culture, can look on the “father,” if they understand it, and see it as it truly is, unflinchingly?”

“But the others look upon it,” said Brenner.

“Not comprehendingly,” said Rodriguez. “The rarest gift is to look upon such things, and understand them, in all their terror, their mercilessness, their beauty, their reality, to look upon the world, the cosmos, the father, so to speak, and understand it, and then, knowingly, with a hearty will, rejoicing, even with a great laugh, to accept it, to affirm it, to rejoice in it, to celebrate it, to meet it, to make of it a game and a festival.”

“You are speaking of more than a totem,” said Brenner.

“We all have our totems,” said Rodriguez.

“This thing, for you, is only a symbol!” said Brenner.

“But one which is quite exact,” said Rodriguez.

“Let us leave, quickly!” said Brenner.

“You think that I am mad?”

“It is hard to understand you,” said Brenner.

“It was not my intention to frighten you.”

“We should go now,” said Brenner. “We have solved the mystery of the Pons.”

“That is absurd,” said Rodriguez. “We have solved but one mystery, and that the least of all, the mere nature of the totem beast.”

“What more is there to learn?” asked Brenner.

“Much,” said Rodriguez.

“What?” said Brenner.

“This afternoon,” said Rodriguez, “the beast brought his kill to the gate of the Pons, and left it there. I saw it coming across the clearing, roused by the cries of Pons. The Pons, when the beast had left, rushed out, rejoicing, striking the carcass with sticks.”

“I do not understand why the beast would have killed the other animal, or brought it here.”

“It is quite clear from the point of view of the Pons,” said Rodriguez.

Brenner looked at him, perplexed.

“Surely you see?”

“No,” said Brenner.

“It is in accord with the pact, the pact, between the totem and the totem group.”

“That is madness,” said Brenner.

“You saw the carcass. It is that of the animal which slew Archimedes.”

“It is some sort of coincidence,” said Brenner.

“The beast followed you, did it not, into the forest?”

“I encountered it in the forest,” said Brenner.

“You carried Archimedes back to the village,” said Rodriguez. “Your shirt is still filthy with his blood. The scent of Pon would have been on you.”

“I was threatened by hideous creatures in the forest,” said Brenner, numbly. “They left, detecting the presence of the huge beast. I ran. The beast followed.”

“It protected you,” said Rodriguez, fiercely.

“No!” said Brenner. “It threatened me. It would confront me. I would run another way. Then I found the trail of stones. I followed it back to the village.”

“Followed by the beast,” said Rodriguez.

“Apparently,” said Brenner.

“It guided you to the stones,” said Rodriguez.

“No!” said Brenner.

“It was your guide, and your guardian angel,” said Rodriguez.

“Madness,” said Brenner.

“On you was the scent of Pon,” said Rodriguez.

“It is a coincidence,” said Brenner.

“Here,” said Rodriguez, thoughtfully, “it is as though the pact was not mere totemistic mythology. It is rather as though it were real.”

“Do not speak madness,” said Brenner.

“That is one of the true mysteries here,” said Rodriguez, “the pact.”

“Have you see such a beast before?” asked Brenner, looking up at the head on the post.

“Of course,” said Rodriguez.

“It was the tracks of such a beast we found within the village, was it not?” said Brenner.

“That seems certain now,” said Rodriguez.

“But you seemed surprised,” said Brenner.

“Certainly,” said Rodriguez, smiling.

“‘Certainly’?”

“Certainly,” repeated Rodriguez.

“Presumably, too, it was the claws of the beast which had torn open the boards, and furrowed the posts, at the other platform, that by the cliffs,” said Brenner.

“Undoubtedly,” said Rodriguez.

“But you seemed to dismiss that possibility at the time,” said Brenner.

“For a very good reason,” said Rodriguez.

“Why?” asked Brenner.

“One mystery we may have solved here,” said Rodriguez, “is how the Pons have survived in the forest.”

Brenner regarded him.

“Such creatures as Pons can exist only in gardens of flowers,” said Rodriguez, “and then they had best not look into the grass, or between the stems of the plants, lest they see the jungle there. They live in a world of sunlit, benevolent trivialities, without risk, without challenge, without adventure, sunning themselves like turtles until they die. Such creatures are weak, worthless, soft. They cannot live in a real world unless they are guarded by lions. It is the lions which make their little flower worlds possible.”

“And the beast is their lion?” said Brenner.

“It makes such things as Pons possible,” said Rodriguez.

“But there have been Pons for thousands of years,” said Brenner.

“That is one of the mysteries,” said Rodriguez.

“There have been “lions,” too, for thousands of years,” said Brenner.

“Or things like them,” mused Rodriguez.

“Lions,” said Brenner.

“No,” said Rodriguez. “That is not possible.”

“It frightens me,” said Brenner, “that such a thing might once have walked in the village, when the gate had been left open.”

“It may have been left open by intent,” said Rodriguez.

“Doubtless as a gesture of hospitality,” said Brenner, bitterly.

“Possibly,” said Rodriguez. “But surely you do not think the palisade would be sufficient to keep out that beast, if it wanted in?”

Brenner shuddered.

“Consider its size,” said Rodriguez. “It could push through the palings. Consider its agility. It could leap over the fence. Consider its jaws, and the likely might of their grip. It could seize and uproot such palings, such wretched sticks.”

“Quite possibly,” said Brenner, uneasily.

“Consider, too, its paws, their unusual nature,” said Rodriguez.

“I did not notice them,” said Brenner.

“I did,” said Rodriguez, “this afternoon, and, again, tonight, in the light of the torches. Too, I have seen such things before. They are not the common sort of paw you would expect on a predator. You might have noted the digits, their length, their jointing, the positioning of them.”

“What are you saying?” asked Brenner.

“That the paws can grip, not just strike, and hold and tear,” said Rodriguez.

“They are prehensile?” asked Brenner.

“With such paws, said Rodriguez, “it could, if it thought in such a manner, push apart palings, snapping them, it could pull them from the ground, it could even reach between them to slide back the bars.”

“Do you remember, in the forest, when we first left Company Station, months ago, how the Pons were at first uneasy, even frightened, and then, a little later, proceeded with confidence?”

“Of course,” said Rodriguez.

“The beast?” said Brenner.

“Undoubtedly,” said Rodriguez. “It was then with them, their secret companion, the angel, secret, dark, and terrible, which would accompany them in the forests.”

“The forest was then so quiet,” said Brenner.

“It knew more than we,” said Rodriguez. “It knew, as we did not, what moved amongst its trees. It was frightened, and hid itself.”

“You may have seen it,” said Brenner.

“Now, in retrospect, interpreting shadows, movements amongst trees, what seemed, briefly, to appear, an evanescent silhouette, and such, I think I did,” said Rodriguez. “But, as with the tracks in the village, the marks at the platform, I would not acknowledge that to which the evidence pointed.”

“Why?”

“It did not seem to me possible,” said Rodriguez.

“You know this sort of animal,” said Brenner.

“Yes,” said Rodriguez.

“It is interesting that Pons could manage to train such a creature.”

“Such things cannot be trained,” said Rodriguez.

“Obviously the Pons have trained it.”

“Such things do not train,” said Rodriguez. “They kill their keepers.”

“Perhaps if taken when young?”

“No,” said Rodriguez.

“Something like that must be the case,” said Brenner.

“No,” said Rodriguez.

“Then we have a fascinating example of zoological symbiosis here,” said Brenner.

“No,” said Rodriguez.

“Like the warning bird, nesting in the coat of the Chian buffalo, whose cries warn it of the approach of intruders, like the scavenger eels swimming in and out of the mouth of the Abderan shark, cleaning its teeth.”

“No,” said Rodriguez. “Such relationships involve reciprocities. Each partner derives a benefit. It is clear that the protection of the beast is much to the profit of the Pons, but what possible profit in this accrues to the beast? It does not live with them. They do not shelter it. They do not alert it to the presence of enemies. They do not clean it. They do not groom it. They do not even feed it, nor could they, on their resources, do so. And such things, I assure you, do not live on fruits and porridge. Indeed, in protecting the Pons, it seems the beast is actually acting against its own best interests. For example, the provision of such a service must involve time and effort, which might better be bestowed elsewhere. Too, of course, it excludes a convenient, easily obtained item from its larder, a sacrifice which, I expect, numerous other predators of the forest are less prepared to make.”

“Perhaps it keeps the Pons about, rather as bait, to attract other things to feed on?”

“How so?” asked Rodriguez, interested.

“Like the Assyrian panther with the snow does it herds?”

“Or the Milesian corath with the small flocks of females of our own species?”

“Precisely,” said Brenner.

“No,” said Rodriguez. “That would not explain such things as depositing the body of the animal which killed Archimedes before the gate.”

“To reassure the Pons of their safety?”

“It would be more likely to terrify them into remaining within their walls,” said Rodriguez. “Bait is normally most effective when it goes about its business, quite unaware of its danger. In the case of the Assyrian panther and the Milesian corath, and other such life forms, too, the hunters, with their bait, angling with it, so to speak, are usually rovers, taking the bait into new and different areas, where their stratagems are likely to be unknown.”

“You do not think such a thing, then, is involved in the pact?” said Brenner.

“No,” said Rodriguez.

“What then is the nature of the pact?” asked Brenner.

“That is one of the mysteries,” smiled Rodriguez.

“We had best get back to the hut,” said Brenner.

“Very well,” said Rodriguez, retrieving his torch from the torch rack.

But Brenner stood where he was, looking up at the massive, carved head on the post.

Rodriguez, torch in hand, turned back.

“You said,” said Brenner, “you knew what sort of animal this is.”

“I do,” said Rodriguez.

“You have seen them before?”

“Yes,” said Rodriguez.

“You seemed familiar with its prints,” said Brenner.

“I am,” said Rodriguez.

“Where had you seen them?” asked Brenner.

“In the sands of the arenas of Megara,” said Rodriguez. “When I was a boy, I raked sand there. It was there, too, where I became aware of the marks of its claws. Some of the marks were eighty feet high, on the barriers, as the beast sought to leap up, and clamber over them. Too, I saw their work on various life forms. One blow of the paw of such a thing can break the back of a mastodon of Thule, another can tear out the belly and backbone of a Thracian dragon. I have seen it.”

“I see,” said Brenner.

“I have also seen,” said Rodriguez, “what it can do to those of our own species.”

“Our own species?” asked Brenner.

“In the arenas it is common to match a hundred of our species, derelicts, prisoners of war, captures, debtors, criminals, adventurers, and such, armed with spears, against just one of these.”

“Horrifying,” said Brenner.

“Perhaps,” said Rodriguez, “but the spectacle is popular on Megara. The crowds find it amusing.”

“I see,” said Brenner.

“The betting usually favors the beast,” added Rodriguez.

“I am not surprised,” said Brenner.

“Women who come to Megara to see the games, seeking thrills and excitement, sometimes find themselves seized, and set forth as stripped prizes.”

“Horrifying,” said Brenner.

“They serve as incitements to the men,” said Rodriguez. “A woman is one of the nicest things a man can own.”

“Undoubtedly,” said Brenner.

“Yes,” said Rodriguez.

“Do the women participate in these contests?” asked Brenner.

“No,” said Rodriguez. “It is theirs merely to watch, naked, and in chains, their fate entirely dependent on the efforts of men.”

“I see,” said Brenner.

“That is as it should be,” said Rodriguez.

“Of course,” said Brenner. “What is their fate, if the men are successful?”

“They are, of course, distributed amongst them, as slaves.”

“And what if the beast is successful?”

“They are fed to it,” said Rodriguez.

“I see,” said Brenner.

“Sometimes viragoes appear in the arena, so-called “Amazons,”” said Rodriguez. “They are usually matched against dwarfs. Such matches are used as interludes, as comic relief, between serious contests.”

“Such a beast, then, will eat the flesh of our species?” asked Brenner.

“Certainly,” said Rodriguez. “At times, eagerly.”

“It did not attack me in the forest,” said Brenner.

“On you was the scent of Pon,” said Rodriguez. “That presumably protected you.”

“The pact?”

“Presumably,” said Rodriguez.

“It must be difficult and dangerous to capture such a beast for the games,” said Brenner.

“I would not wish to go after one with spears and ropes, with torches and nets, and such,” said Rodriguez, “but, as it is done these days, on a commercial basis, there is very little danger. Heat detectors are used. The animal is felled with gases or tranquilizing charges. The whole thing is done from a safe distance, from the air. The beast is transported back to a holding compound by air truck, and so on.”

“I did not know such a beast was native to Abydos,” said Brenner, looking up at the massive, carved head, shuddering.

Rodriguez put back his head, and laughed.

“What is so amusing?” asked Brenner, irritated.

“That,” said Rodriguez.

“What?” asked Brenner, angrily.

“Forgive me, my friend,” said Rodriguez, “but therein is found another of our small mysteries.”

“I do not understand,” said Brenner.

“That is why I did not permit myself to correctly interpret what I saw in the forest,” said Rodriguez. “That is why I did not allow myself to understand the tracks in the village, or the marks on the platform by the cliffs.”

“I do not understand,” said Brenner.

“You do not know what beast that is, do you, really?” asked Rodriguez.

“No,” said Brenner. “I do not.”

“Have you heard of the world called ‘Persia’?”

“Yes,” said Brenner.

“It is a desert world for the most part,” said Rodriguez, “but in its subarctic regions, in the northern and southern hemisphere, there are forested latitudes, much as on Abydos. From that world come these animals. Several varieties are found there. Most are tawny, short-haired and desert-adapted, but there are forest varieties, too, and those of the northern hemisphere are generally marked like the beast you saw this afternoon.”

“What you are telling me is impossible,” said Brenner.

“The animal you saw today is a Persian lion,” said Rodriguez.

“What are you telling me?” said Brenner.

“That the totem of the Pons is not native to this world,” said Rodriguez.

“That is absurd,” said Brenner.

“It must have been brought here, deliberately.”

“Impossible,” said Brenner.

“Its presence here is one of our little mysteries,” said Rodriguez. “And I will tell you another. Perhaps you recall, earlier, that you said that there had been Pons for thousands of years, which is true, and then, later, you said, in effect, ‘lions, too’, and I said that that was impossible?”

“Vaguely,” said Brenner.

“Have you ever heard of a totemistic group changing its totem?” asked Rodriguez.

“Never,” said Brenner.

“Nor I,” said Rodriguez. “But the world, Persia, as you apparently do not realize, is a comparatively recent addition to our family of known worlds. It was first discovered, explored, and charted only some five thousand years ago.”

“Then the Persian lion, that is, that species of animal, could not have always been the totem beast of the Pons.”

“No,” said Rodriguez.

“Perhaps they were once not totemistic,” said Brenner.

“As far as we know,” said Rodriguez, “at least for thousands of years, they have been totemistic.”

“They have had, possibly, in that time, a succession of totem animals?” asked Brenner.

“That seems a possibility,” said Rodriguez.

“It makes no sense,” said Brenner.

“We may be dealing here with a very unusual form of totemism,” said Rodriguez.

“I am frightened,” said Brenner.

“The Pons may be a subtler, more complex life form than we have guessed,” said Rodriguez.

“I am ready to return to the hut,” said Brenner.

“The greatest mystery, of course,” said Rodriguez, “remains, that with which we are most fundamentally concerned, totemism itself, its origin and its meaning. We know that it is, or is close to, the beginning, that on a thousand worlds, perhaps all, it antedates gods and heroes, religions and philosophies, laws and institutions. Out of its lost, dark soil have sprung civilizations. It is, I suspect, literally the key to the origins of culture, that which frees us from the wheel of nature, that which breaks the cycles of eons, that which most significantly divides forms of life. To be sure, perhaps we have then been entered only upon vaster wheels, grander, more terrifying cycles of growth, and of aging and decay, those of civilizations themselves, but even so, in spite of all, I would understand this totemism, this little, problematic, frightening thing which I think may be the key to culture itself, this strange conception, with its associated practices, which seems so pervasively to lie, often forgotten, secret and mysterious, on a thousand worlds, at the root of civilization itself.”

Rodriguez and Brenner then turned about, and walked back toward the two large doors, those through which they had entered the room. As they did so, they detected, to their right, the Pon whom they had met earlier, on their way in. It was half concealed in the shadows, the darkness. They did not raise their torches to illuminate it.

Before they exited, Brenner turned about, once more to regard the platform at the end of the room.

It was hard to see now, far off, in the flickering shadows.

Still, however, one could make out the two painted, massive, carved heads on the posts, one at each front corner of the platform.

“It is a beautiful, savage animal,” said Brenner.

Rodriguez lifted his torch. The Pon was coming forth, a few steps, timidly, from the shadows. They could see it clearly now. It put up its hands, as though it might be some sort of gesture of warning. To be sure, it was difficult to interpret such a behavior.

“What does it mean?” asked Brenner.

“Do not mind it,” said Rodriguez. “It is an outcast, a pariah. Such, scorned, held in contempt, mistreated, are common in totemistic cultures. They are used for such things as feeding individuals who are temporarily taboo, for example, individuals who have attended to the dead, and such.”

Rodriguez then extinguished his torch, and put it in the holder, to the right of the door, as one would enter it.

“We will leave boldly,” said Rodriguez, “as though nothing were different.”

“Of course” said Brenner. But, of course, too, everything was different.

“Tomorrow,” said Rodriguez, “I will go back to the platform by the cliffs.”

“Perhaps it is too soon to do so,” said Brenner.

“There is a valley behind the cliffs. I saw openings there. I wish to explore them.”

“It may not be wise,” said Brenner.

“I think I know what I will find there, at least in part,” said Rodriguez. “I wish to make certain.”

“It may be dangerous,” said Brenner.

“I have the rifle,” said Rodriguez.

Rodriguez removed the electric torch from his belt, and snapped it on. Brenner extinguished his torch and, with the help of Rodriguez’ light, replaced it in its holder, to the left of the door, as one would face it. When they left the temple several Pons were standing about. Rodriguez pushed through them, and Brenner followed him.

In a moment or two they had returned to their hut.

“There is something of additional interest about the totem animal,” said Rodriguez.

“You mean the particular beast that followed me back to the village?”

“Yes,” said Rodriguez.

“What?” asked Brenner.

“It is old,” he said.

Brenner looked at him.

“Is it not clear?” asked Rodriguez.

“No,” said Brenner.

“They will need a new one soon,” said Rodriguez.