The Little Snake Read online

  ‘Well, I love you. You are my friend. And you are here.’

  The snake tasted the air and coughed in a way that indicated he was a little bit impatient and would like Mary to be plain with him. ‘That has a nice taste,’ he said. ‘It tastes of fresh mice and the steam from ironing clean clothes and of sunshine.’ He looked at her very deeply with his intelligent red eyes. ‘But you also taste of the love which is for one particular person whom you want to kiss a great deal. That taste is flavoured with honeysuckle and pepper.’

  ‘Oh . . .’ Mary hugged herself and smiled in a way that made the room brighter. ‘That boy you said I should talk to who was called Paul . . . He and I like bats and cats and we enjoy floating and boating and we listen to the stars together while we lie on the riverbank where the grass is soft and . . .’

  ‘Yes?’ said the snake, feeling a bit jealous.

  ‘He is a wonderful person. Not wonderful because he is magic like you, but wonderful because he is Paul.’

  ‘Am I not wonderful because I am Lanmo?’

  ‘Of course you are,’ said Mary, but then she rushed on to a long description of Paul’s hair and how he walked and the funny and clever things he said, and although Lanmo tried very hard to be glad for her because she was so full-up-to-the-top with joy, he did also get quite bored. Eventually, he fell asleep.

  It was almost time for the sun to rise when Lanmo woke. In fact, he had been woken by Mary’s voice finally trailing off into silence. This was not because she had run out of good things to say about Paul, it was simply because she had eventually become too tired to be quite so heartily in love and so her body had insisted that she drift away into a dream about exploring fascinating caves full of jewels and seams of silver and gold and stalactites lollopping down from the vaulted roofs and stalagmites lollopping upwards. Paul was not with her in her dream and this was the beginning of her realising that loving him might mean she would not become a famous adventurer after all. Not unless he also liked adventures. Somehow, she had never managed to mention her plans for being an explorer to Paul. This was because they were very important to her and she didn’t want Paul to laugh at them, or snort down his nose the way he snorted down his nose when they talked about the silly people who couldn’t hear the stars and the silly people who liked lying on carpets and sofas when they could lie on the soft grass instead and feel it tickle and inhale its scent.

  While Mary dreamed, the snake sleeked as fast as love to the home of a Great Man Who Loved the People. It was perched on the edge of a cliff with long, high windows that looked out over the ocean and got a perfect view of the storms and the sunsets and passing pods of whales and dolphins. The Great Man Who Loved the People would sometimes open his windows and walk out onto his balcony and stand with his nose pointed into the flattering breeze, wearing his very plain suit that showed he was humble and his very ordinary shoes that showed he was trustworthy and his mildly patterned tie that showed he was sensitive and artistic but not too wild. He felt it was only fair to allow the ocean to look up at a man as wonderful as he was and to be glad as a result. He was sure the whales and dolphins would also find their lives improved by knowing he was there. And now and then he would declaim phrases across the waves to see if they sounded sufficiently inspiring and magnificent. All this was done on behalf of the people, of course, because he was always very humble and mindful of the people.

  On this early, early morning, the Great Man Who Loved the People had been unable to sleep. Yesterday he had received a communication from one of his generals telling him that the war he was conducting on behalf of the people had killed eighty per cent of the enemies of the people. There was only one enemy city left standing, the City of Thoth. It was filled with women and children and the elderly. The general had written to say that the City of Thoth had surrendered and that the war could be over soon, which was good because seventy-five per cent of the Great Man Who Loved the People’s people had died fighting it. Everyone wanted a rest now. The Great Man Who Loved the People had thought all night about what would be the most merciful and wise thing to do under these circumstances because he had a soft and refined heart and was tender towards the elderly and always kissed women and children in respectful and popular ways as an expression of love for his people. After much consideration, he had called an official messenger and given him a letter for the general.

  The letter read:

  Dear General and Commander-in-Chief of Our Magnificent Forces,

  As your humble and loving leader I thank you for your brave service on behalf of the people. I thank you also for your news of the war. The City of Thoth, you say, contains the elderly who are left amongst our enemies. The elderly, as you will know, remember much and contain a great deal of wisdom. If the memory and the wisdom of our enemies remain, then they may rise again and defeat us. Therefore the elderly must be killed. The women of our enemies also remain alive there. They may give birth to a new generation of enemies and may harbour feminine resentments about our treatment of their people. Therefore the women must be killed. The children left alive in the city may grow up to be enemies more vengeful than those we already have and may bear further children and eventually fill the world with deadly foes. Therefore the children must be killed. Twenty-five per cent of my beloved people still remain alive. They have not nobly sacrificed themselves in my defence of their way of life. They have not already wiped the dangerous and threatening City of Thoth from the face of the earth. This means they must be traitors. Therefore the remainder of my people must be killed. Once your men have carried out these necessary measures for the defence of my people, you must explain to them that because they had not already killed the traitors hidden in our glorious country (and the evil citizens of the City of Thoth) they are traitors. Therefore they must kill each other and then themselves. You, my loyal and brave commander, have asked me to end the Great War on Behalf of the People. This means you are not true to the wonderful aims of our Great War on Behalf of the People. You are a traitor. Therefore, once you are sure that everyone else is dead, you must kill yourself.

  I send this message with all brotherly love and fellowship, my very dear General.

  The Great Man Who Loved the People read this message aloud a few times to make sure it was sufficiently filled with love and justice. Then he reached out to place the letter in the shaking hands of the now pale-faced messenger.

  Perhaps to delay his departure for what would be certain death, the messenger asked, ‘Why, oh Glorious Leader, is there a golden snake wound around the railing of your balcony?’

  The Great Man Who Loved the People laughed at such a suggestion, but he did turn to study the railing and, strangely, did notice that a beautiful snake he had never seen before was resting there. The snake was twitching the end of his tail and watching him with deeply red eyes. Those eyes disturbed the Great Man Who Loved the People. (We will call him GMWLtP from now on, because his name is too long and he won’t be needing it soon.) They reminded him of the light from the first city he had burned, many years before.

  ‘Good morning,’ said the snake.

  This made the GMWLtP drop his letter and not even notice the messenger running from the balcony. The messenger kept running from the ballroom beyond it and down the stairs and across the courtyard with its lush and extravagant gardens and on and on across battlefields and ruined villages and through burned orchards until he was back in his family’s village. Two of his cousins and his mother were still alive there and he stayed with them and never, ever talked about his time with the GMWLtP.

  While all that began to happen, the GMWLtP simply stood on the spot and swallowed.

  ‘Over the years you have saved me a great deal of busyness,’ said the snake, in his most charming voice. ‘You have been determined to do my work for me.’ His words fell delicately through the air like silk. ‘I do not find that I can like you.’ The snake flickered his tongue into the air and tasted the GMWLtP’s bewilderment. ‘In the past I generall
y formed no personal opinions about the people I met while I did what I must do. Lately, however, I have been taught to take more interest in the lives of humans and I . . .’ He paused for a moment and frowned, although it was difficult to see this because he had no eyebrows and not really any forehead. ‘I truly do not like you. Today I am very happy that we have met.’

  ‘But I am the Great Man Who Loves the People,’ blustered the GMWLtP.

  ‘No.’ The snake blinked and then let his stare sink and burrow and peer all the way into the soul and heart and thinking of the GMWLtP. ‘No, you are just Nigel Simon Beech. And I shall enjoy this.’

  And the snake opened his mouth and let his teeth shine in the dawn light, as white as bones. Just for a moment.

  When Mary awoke, Lanmo was back on her pillow, looking very contentedly at her. There was no sign on even the tiniest of the snake’s scales that he had travelled thousands of miles since she last faced him.

  ‘Hello, Mary. Shall we go to school?’

  ‘No, silly – today is a Sunday. So first I will go to the cornershop and sweep up and help to stack the shelves – which is my job. Then after lunch we can walk along the Grand Avenue and eat ice cream. I’m allowed to eat one ice cream paid for out of my wages. My parents need the rest of the money since things have become so difficult in so many ways. And sometimes I get to take home dented tins or broken packets.’

  ‘I don’t think I would be very interested in sweeping and stacking,’ said the snake. ‘I will stay here with your mother and father until you are done.’

  ‘It is a bit boring sweeping,’ agreed Mary. ‘And since rationing there isn’t very much to stack any more. I mostly just move the tins around. We really need the money I earn, but I think in a few weeks Mr Paphos will say he can’t pay me any more.’

  Mary looked so sad while she said this that Lanmo felt himself chill all along his spine. Although this taught him a little more about love, it also made him become sad himself and he had the idea that his head hurt and that his eyes stung. To cheer Mary, he rattled his scales so that they sounded like golden feathers on beautiful birds with good hearts and he danced back and forth across her blanket until he was only a shimmer and a glisten of heat and wonder.

  This did indeed allow Mary to forget her troubles. Generally, she tried not to be downhearted and was inclined to be a mostly happy person. And, of course, as the snake could taste, she was in love with Paul, and this lit and warmed a space in her through and through in a manner which kept everything but the cloudiest of thoughts at bay.

  So, after a breakfast of porridge made with water and some tea without milk, Mary went off to Mr Paphos’s shop. Lanmo stayed in the cramped living-room, resting along the top of a skirting board and pretending to be a length of spectacularly lovely wiring. Mary’s mother and father cleaned up after breakfast and then sat in silence on their couch. They didn’t notice the snake at all, partly because they were grown-ups and partly because they were both staring straight ahead at something they thought they could see in their future, something which they didn’t like. After a while Mary’s father held his wife’s hand and Mary’s mother leaned her head on her husband’s shoulder.

  ‘It will be all right,’ said her mother.

  ‘In the end. Maybe,’ said her father.

  Neither of them sounded as if they believed this was true.

  The snake found that he wanted to stand up as tall as he could and to become awe-inspiring and to announce, ‘You must go at once to the Land of Perditi where I know you can be safe for as long as you live! You must listen and go today, or maybe tomorrow morning, and you must take with you only what you can carry for a long, long time without getting tired! Your city is too sad now. Your kites hardly fly. Can’t you see that everything has changed? You must leave behind whatever else you have before sad times make you watch it being taken from you! The sad times will do you harm! You must be safe and keep on being alive because Mary loves you and I do . . . I also . . . I have in my heart this thing which is love for Mary!’

  But he knew that Mary’s parents would not be able to hear or even see him. They would not want him to be there, and really would not want to understand what he said. Humans very often do not want to leave what they have in one place, or go to another place, not until it is too late for them to keep safe.

  So Lanmo winked at the kitten, which was resting on Mary’s mother’s lap and trying to make her feel warm and comfortable. The kitten jumped down – pompompompom – onto its soft, pink little feet and followed the tempting flicker and wriggle of Lanmo’s tail. And they played together in the tiny garden until both of them were not thinking of anything at all apart from having fun. Sometimes when there is nothing else to do, or nothing that can be done yet, it is best to be happy with friends and to let this strengthen your spirit.

  When Mary arrived back from work she was rather dusty and tired, but she was holding a package of broken spaghetti, which made almost everyone delighted. (Lanmo was not fond of spaghetti because it allowed humans to look as if they were eating tiny snakes.) Father hugged Mary and Mother, and Mother hugged Mary and Father, and secretly all the while Lanmo had looped himself around Mary’s throat like a necklace so that he could also share in the so many hugs and so much smiling about a small amount of broken pasta. He found it remarkable that humans could persuade themselves to keep going under almost any circumstances and that they were very willing to be joyful and courageous. It was a shame so many of them were so stupid.

  The kitten also got hugs and kisses on his nose and a handful of biscuity cat food from Mr Paphos’s shop. (Fewer and fewer people were keeping pets and so he could give away pet food without worrying that he would have less to sell – almost no one was buying any.)

  The humans enjoyed a lunch of boiled pasta and a small amount of sage and some tomatoes from the garden. Everyone agreed it was a feast. Then Mary changed into her nicest dress (which she had been allowed to make from one of her mother’s nicest dresses) and trotted happily outside and headed for the Grand Avenue with Lanmo perched on her shoulder like a very long and thin golden canary.

  The Grand Avenue was not so grand as it had been only a few years ago. Many of the high and wide shop windows were empty or boarded up and the market at the corner of Valdemar Street was quiet. Mary had loved it when it was full of heaped spices in aromatic rainbows and colourful fruits and vegetables carefully stacked. Its silk traders had all but disappeared and the leather workers were only selling a very few sandals and grubby, faded bags. But the ice cream cart was still there and Mr Chanson was still selling cones and tubs and icy treats, although no one liked to ask him how he got the cream. His ices were still delicious: strawberry, cake with flaberry, chocolate with lingonberry, plain chocolate, lemon, gooseberry with elderflower and Marionberry.

  Mary joined the queue of townspeople anxious to have a little treat and to act as if Sundays were just as enjoyable as always. Lanmo had never eaten ice cream before and it intrigued him. ‘Mary, what flavour should I have?’

  Mary didn’t answer at once and so he slipped along her shoulder, very close to her ear, and asked, ‘Is there something wrong?’

  ‘It’s just that . . .’ whispered Mary, ‘I can only afford the one ice cream. My parents need the rest of the money. It wouldn’t be fair to buy two.’

  ‘Hmmm,’ said Lanmo and smiled as much as he ever could. ‘But I can make the human selling ice cream think that we have paid him. I can make him think that we have bought the whole cartload in every flavour.’ He chuckled a velvety chuckle that was so warm it might almost have melted the ice cream.

  ‘No, no, no, Lanmo, that would be terrible. Mr Chanson needs the money to buy his mysterious milk and make us more ice cream. We can’t steal from him – he’s nice. He gives everyone chocolate sprinkles, or sauce, or extra little dabs of ice cream for free.’

  Lanmo shrank slightly and leaned against Mary’s neck. ‘I do not understand humans. Some of you will steal
anything all the time and some of you will steal nothing all the time. Couldn’t all of you just steal something some of the time – if you need it?’

  ‘I don’t think so.’

  ‘But you are hungry and other people have more food than they can eat.’

  ‘Yes, but that is the way of the world.’

  Lanmo thought about this and found that it was an unsatisfactory answer. ‘That is an unsatisfactory answer,’ he said.

  ‘I know,’ said Mary. ‘But that is the only answer my parents and my teachers have ever given me to the problems of who has food and who does not.’

  By this time, our friends were at the head of the ice cream queue and so the snake simply let Mary choose one cone with one scoop of her own favourite flavour, because he had never experienced any of the flavours on offer and didn’t know what to pick. ‘How do you catch a lemon?’

  ‘Lemons just hang from their trees and stay very still and you can pick them easily. All the fruits are like that.’

  ‘That is very foolish of them. No wonder everybody eats them.’ Lanmo licked the air and tasted the sweet and sticky and rich wonderfulness of the ice cream scents. They almost made his head spin. ‘Do you like strawberry?’ He could not recall when anything last made his head spin.

  ‘Strawberry is my favourite.’

  ‘Then we must have that.’

  Mary duly paid for the single scoop of strawberry ice cream and then ambled along to a little bench set under a broad, friendly tree that had stood in the Grand Avenue for many years and had become a landmark and a meeting place for humans. She held the cornet and Lanmo shrank himself and wound his body around it so that his head was just level with the ice cream. The cool of it made him feel slightly sleepy and yet excited. Mary waited while his tongue flickered and fippered and tickled nearer and nearer to the ice cream and then finally took a tiny, tiny, snake-sized lick. ‘Mmmmmm.’