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The Snake Goddess

Once upon a time, thousands and thousands of era’s ago, in the strange and far
away land of Catatonia, there lived a very peculiar Queen. In fact, she still lives
there. Or so the stories tell us. Few have ever seen this Queen and those who have,
seem to be mysteriously unable to tell the tale. So what do we know of the ancient
monarch of Catatonia? It is said that she goes by many names. ‘The Snake
Goddess’, they call her. ’The Serpent Queen’. ‘The Harbinger of Fiery Doom’. But
mostly the appearance of the Queen is greeted simply by a shriek of unworldly
terror.

There is one story related to the Queen that the good people of Catatonia tell one
another over and over again. It is the Parable of Mother Courage. The events take
place during the coldest winter in the history of Catatonia. Witnesses relate how,
at noon exactly, a terrible crackle resonated through the Catatonian valleys. Sea
waves froze in mid-air, birds fell stone dead from the sky and broke in a million
pieces on the ground, ill-fated wanderers continued their existence as ice pillars.
These were hard times indeed for the Catatonians, especially since the Queen had
thought it wise to forbid the use of stoves and fireplaces by law and confiscate all
Catatonian wool in order to fashion herself a humongous bonnet, that she
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eventually grew weary of and burnt, causing the Great Catatonian Fire in which 734
villagers perished. But that is a different story altogether.

Back to Mother Courage then. To save her influenziated children from certain and
chilly death, this remarkable woman came up with a remarkable plan. She would
travel to the Royal Palace, request an audience with the Queen and plead to this
most noble of rulers to provide her children with a warm haven in the royal court.
The Catatonians declared her mad: did she not know that the Palace was off limits
to the townspeople on the penalty of death by hanging, dismemberment and
drowning (in that order)? And had she forgotten that the Palace was rather
inconveniently located several million hogsheads to the far north of the village,
way beyond Quicksand Swamp, Poison Shark Lake and the Haunted Minefield of
Zombieshire? Mother Courage knew this full-well, she had not by any means
forgotten, yet she and her three children stubbornly set out on this most suicidal of
quests. And so, in accordance with ancient tradition, the entire town gathered
festively by the edge of town to wish this stout woman the very best, and publicly
sell her house as scrap-wood, as was also the custom in these cases.

What strange and miraculous fate it was that succeeded in safeguarding Mother
Courage and her three poorly (and, frankly, rather annoying) children all through
their ludicrously hazardous journey we do not know. Most fairy-tale historians
agree on some kind of magic spoon. Anyways, the weary travelers eventually
reached their mythical destination. Cheerfully puffing, they climbed the thirty-nine
thousand diamond steps of the Royal Stairway. Happily sighing, they stumbled their
way through the eighty-five rusty Gates of Gold. Wildly cursing, they traversed the
Sixteen Hour Hallway and entered the Lair of the Snake Goddess, who received the
unexpected visitors cordially:

- 'Who dares enter the Lair of the Snake Goddess?!!

- It is but a desperate mother and her dying children, begging your Majesty for the
simplest of favours!'
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- 'A favour! This is most irregular! The Goddess is interested! Speak, hideous
wormling!'

- 'We have travelled many hogsheads to see your Grace, great dangers we have
suffered and terrible injuries…'

- 'The Goddess is bored!'

- To make a long yet ultimately terribly exciting story…'

- 'Bored!!'

- '…very short, my starving children and I have fled our home and its inexplicable
cold epidemic…'

- (giggles)

- '…in desperate search of a shelter , a refuge from…'

- 'The Goddess understands! You seek lodgings! The Goddess will ponder! The
Goddess will reply in one thousand era's!'

- 'But your Highness…'

- 'There, the Goddess has decided! The goddess will provide you all with a warm
home!'

- 'You truly are the Queen of Queens!'

The Queen devoured the woman and her children and proceeded to take a well-
deserved nap in the Royal Gardens. Since then, the word ‘courageous’ has come to
mean ‘incredibly stupid’ in the Catatonian language. Having learned their lesson,
the villagers stayed well clear of any courageous activities and suffered the foibles
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of the Queen in silence. In the following era, the Queen destroyed eighty-seven
harvests, caused twenty-four floods and, in one particular sour mood, decided to
clobber to death all first-born children of Catatonia. Using the second-borns as
clubs. Still, fearing an even more horrific fate, no one dared complain. And then,
one era, a stranger arrived in the kingdom of Catatonia.

Naturally, this caused great uproar in the village. For one, the intruder had a most
eccentric appearance. The foreigner did not wear the traditional snake-skin
bodysuit, yellow-tinted goggles and novelty plastic fangs, like everyone else. No,
this man (was he even human?) immediately stood out like a palm tree in a
cornfield. Black as a pitch his cloak was, and when it swept sinisterly through the
howling wind, it immediately extracted all colour from its environment. Those
courageous enough to look the Figure in the face, speak of an unnaturally pale
complexion, a constant deathlike grin and two piercing eyes, one icy blue and one
fiery red. The Catatonians were oblivious as to the purpose of the Figure’s visit.
Naturally, no one dared ask. Unnerved though they were by his ominous presence,
the villagers soon grew accustomed to the ghostlike appearance aimlessly roaming
their streets. Every single era, the Figure would wander from one side of town to
the other, midway stopping for a quick pint at the local inn. There he would sit,
alone, silently sipping his pumpkin cider and staring, minding his own mysterious
business. He never spoke, until one fateful evening. Two local merchants were
sharing grievances over the newly installed Tax On Trading Things, which required
you chop both your hands off whenever selling anything:

- ‘I agree, it is somewhat of a nuisance to our profession, but what can one do?’

- ‘Nothing. We must respect the wishes of our beloved Queen.’

At this point, the Figure turned its shrouded head and asked:

- ‘Who is this… Queen you speak of?’

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After a moment’s hesitation, the first merchant replied jokingly:

- ‘Only the one true Ruler and Monarch of our little Kingdom!’

- ‘Stern but fair, she watches over all wretched existence and guides our every
step!’, said the other.

Pensively, the Figure slid its bony fingers back and forth over the rim of his
recently emptied mug.

- ‘I wish to see the Queen. Is this possible?’

The second merchant replied:

- ‘Theoretically, yes. Practically, no.’

- ‘We have yet to receive word from the last courageous soul to seek the
acquaintance of the Queen, now some thirty-odd era’s ago. If it is certain death
you desire then, by all means, travel several million hogsheads to the north of the
village, pass through Quicksand Swamp, Poison Shark Lake and the Haunted
Minefield of Zombieshire and send our best regards to Mother Courage!’, laughed
the first merchant.

- ‘Will do’, mumbled the Figure, dumbfounding the merchants, before disappearing
in a hurry.

The Figure travelled several million hogsheads to the north of the village, stoically
ignored the death- traps of Quicksand Swamp, absentmindedly strangled the
eighty-seven inhabitants of Poison Shark Lake and yawned extensively while scaring
one hundred fourty-nine zombies back into their graves. It climbed the thirty-nine
thousands steps of the Royal Stairway in two casual strides, kicked in all eighty-five
rusty Gates of Gold and hobbled carelessly through the Sixteen Hour Hallway into
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the Lair of the Snake Goddess.

- ‘Ah, at last! Fresh visitors! Come closer and be eaten, I mean, welcome!’,
cheered the Queen.

- ‘You are most graceful, your Highness. Please allow me to introduce myself: I am
your King.’, said the Figure dryly.

- ‘By Me! You are a funny one! I will enjoy devouring you!’

- ‘ Just a minute, your Majesty. Why not make this a little more interesting?’

- ‘The Queen appreciates interestingness, please proceed.’

The Figure conjured from under his coat a chess-board and grinned:

- ‘Perhaps Your Holyness would care to play? The stakes are these: if I, Goddess
forbid, win, you take me as your King. If Your Grace wins… well, then do what you
will with me.

- ‘Ha! The Goddess will crush you! First in game-format and then in actuality!’

- ‘ Excellent. Black or white?’

- ‘Black of course!’

I will not bore you with a detailed account of the, I must say, positively spiffing
match of chess which then ensued, as this would take up more than fifty era’s of
your precious time for the endgame alone. Interested readers are referred to
Reginald Basilton’s ‘The Unabbreviated Snake Goddess vs. the Figure:’, volumes
one to thirty six billion eight hundred seventy five million six hundred and ninety
two thousand three hundred fourty five for a complete analysis of all the moves. I
think it’s available from Babel Library, just look in ‘C’, for Chess. I dearly
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recommend it and not just because Regi happens to be a very good friend of mine:
it really is a very nice book, with lots of pretty pictures. But anyway, back to the
game. After a textbook Sicilian defence, several daring rokades, many a bold
Zwischenzug, three fiendishly clever Fianchetto’s and a nearly fatal Hokahey
Corkscrew, the board looked strangely empty.

- ‘Draw?’, asked the Figure, almost casually.

- ‘Never!’, said the Queen.

- ‘Your Brilliance, there are two kings on this board and nothing more. We must
draw.'

The Queen pulled a face as if she had just consumed a particularly unwashed
villager and said:

- ‘Very well. Tonight you live. But tomorrow we play again and chances are fate
will not shine so favourably on you then!’

- ‘We shall see on the morrow, Your Hatefulness’.

On the next morrow (which, in our calendar, amounts to approximately an awful

lot of era’s later) the Queen and the Figure played again. And drawed. The morrow
after, they played and drawed. The morrow after that, they played and….well, you
get the picture. For era’s and era’s and era’s the Queen and Figure played chess
and every single time the Figure lived and the King’s throne remained unfilled.
During their epic battles, Queen and Figure chatted. While pondering her next
move, the Queen would pride herself on some self-invented new way of unleashing
grotesque cruelty upon her beloved subjects. The Figure would then suggest minor
improvements, which the Queen invariably dismissed as ridiculous and stupid
before instantaneously implementing them. I think it is safe to say that the two of
them gradually developed…well,… some sort of… ‘understanding’. I shall not speak
of ‘love’ or ‘friendship’, for I am quite sure that, if I dared, the Queen would leap
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from the very pages I am now writing and bite off my head. Still, the Figure and
the Queen got along. And so it came to be that, one era, the Queen was boasting
her Terrificly Terrifying Teddybear Tournament, which ordered all children of
Catatonia to pit their teddy bears against Ragnarok the Fire Dragon in a mindless
combat of life and death. Strangely enough, Ragnarok was eventually killed by a
very sturdy bear named Pookie, which had mildly upset the Queen. As always, the
Figure made a cunning suggestion.

- ‘Very clever, Your Evilness, targeting things that those pathetic fools hold
precious. But perhaps you must direct your attention to that which the Catatonians
cherish above all?’

- ‘This the Queen knows already of course, but just to remind Her, what would
this cherished thing be again exactly’?

- ‘Why, Snuffles the Bunny Rabbit of course! That lovable and fluffy creature that
spreads joy and happiness all over Catatonia!’

- ‘Sounds disgusting. ’

- ‘If you were to murder Snuffles, place his head on a stake and parade it through
the streets of Catatonia, I think you will have cracked the souls of your people once
and for all.’

- ‘This is a most stupid and ridiculous plan that will never ever be put into
practice!’

- ‘I thought as much, Your Righteousness. Draw?’

- ‘Confounded! Hmm, tonight you live, my servant, but tomorrow you die.’

- ‘We shall see on the morrow, Your Heartlessness.’

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The very next era, the Queen snaked out into the forest for the first time
since...well...ever in search of Snuffles the Bunny Rabbit. In no time, she had
picked up the scent of the retanile rodent. The Queen tracked the Bunny Rabbit
down to its breeding place, which a few moments later also functioned as its last
resting place. Triumphantly, the Queen spiked the late Snuffles’ head on a pine
tree and made leave for the town centre, where she expected to be greeted by
disbelief, desperation, defaitism, despair and several other delightfully depressing
words that always seem to begin with D. How unpleasantly surprised she was when
the entire village hurried towards her, singing her praise, laughing and crying, not
of terror but of…joy.

- ‘What in the name of all that is evil and unpleasant!?’, cried the Queen. ‘What is
wrong with these people? Why do they not dread and despise me, as they should?’.

The Queen’s lament was greeted with nothing but cheers of inane happiness by the
villagers, which, I fear, does very little to clarify the situation for you, so perhaps I
should provide the answer to this rhetorical question now. You see, the Figure had
lied. Snuffles the Bunny Rabbit was not loved and worshipped by the people of
Catatonia. In fact, the opposite was true. Snuffles was a vicious preditor, a
merciless beast from the darkest pits of hell, nicknamed the Scourge of Catatonia.
Snuffles’ daily rampages of bloody death were feared almost as much as those of
the Queen herself (actually, the Catatonians feared Snuffles a tiny bit more, but
let’s just keep this from the Queen, shall we? ). The moment the villagers set their
beady little eyes on the severed head of the Scourge that was no more, they finally
understood. All these era’s, the Queen had been testing them. The hate, the fear,
the never-ending torture: it was merely to see just how far the allegiance of the
Catatonians to their beloved monarch would stretch! And far it did stretch!
Bravely, these good people had suffered one insufferable humiliation after
another, yet they never lost faith! And now, finally, they were rewarded for their
valiant efforts: the Scourge was dead, the Queen could safely drop her harsh but
necessary guise and reveal herself as the gentle, caring ruler she truly was!
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Paradisiacal times were ahead for the lovely kingdom of Catatonia! Hooray!

You see, since the dawn of time, the Queen had spread fear and terror all over her
country, like one spreads peanut butter all over one’s slice of toast, namely by first
applying a full-covering ground layer of ever-lingering anxiety before topping it off
with some strategic gobbles of moist malignancy by the edges. And now, face to
face with an unstoppable horde of friendly sympathizers, the Queen herself was
overcome with these feelings of ‘fear’ and ‘terror’. The Queen would embrace the
sweet irony of her predicament, see the error of her ways and undergo a fairly
spectacular catharsis. She would grow to appreciate the devotion of her subjects,
resolve to be a just and caring ruler and live happily ever after with her sinister but
equally good-hearted King. This is what the Catatonians genuinely believed would
happen. They were a very courageous people.

It was a grotesque sight, to see the Queen ruthlessly pouncing from one delirious
villager to another. ‘Test us, oh Great Ruler!’, they yelled as their bones were
crushed by the sweet embrace of the Queen. Not a single man, woman or child was
spared: the terrified Ruler pounced and pounced and pounced again and soon the
entire village was massacred. Somewhat unearthed, the Queen slid through the
blood-filled streets of the ghost town formerly known as Catatonia Village and
retreated to her Lair to ponder. Filled with rage she was over the backward
treachery of the Figure: no one betrayed the Queen; the Queen betrayed you!
Vengeance most deadly was the only reply fitting: the Figure must die in the most
horrendous way imaginable! There was one problem though: the Queen could not
confront the Figure without first admitting she had for once in her life been
outwitted, something her enormous pride would never allow. No, she would simply
act as if nothing had happened. She would lead the Figure to believe he had won.
And then, when he least expected it, she would strike and destroy him on his own
terrain: the chess board. Amused, the Figure welcomed the return of his Queen at
the gaming table.

- ‘You are late, Your Tardiness. Problems in the village?’

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- ‘Not anymore, my groveling servant, not anymore. And now hold your fork-like
tongue, for the Goddess has an important announcement to make!’

- ‘Ah?’, spoke the Figure, whilst (so legend has it) raising an eyebrow.

- ‘I have decided to grant you a so-called ‘time-out’, to recuperate from your

many feeble attempts to defeat the unbeatable Goddess! Such is my humongous
nobleness! Now take your slimy leave, we shall meet again in exactly one hundred
era’s. Goodbye!’

- ‘Goodbye’.

With well-feigned grace and dignity, the Queen slid into the library, barricaded the
doors and began to study. She devoured (metaphorically speaking) every single
chess book in her possession (such as the indestructible classic ‘Doing it Diagonally:
How to Make the Most of your Bishops’ by R. Basilton), memorized literally all
existing chess tactics (including the hideously complicated Triple Tartakower
Maneuver, which I would urge you not to try at home) and even invented a few new
ones. At the end of every era she played against herself to try out the acquired
knowledge, combining a multitude of elaborate strategies while trying to imagine
how the Figure would react to them. The hundred era’s passed in a flash and soon
the moment came for the Queen to return from exile and face her arch nemesis for
the last time. Brandishing a smirk of almost preposterous smugness, the now over-
confident despot paced towards the throne room, meanwhile indulging in
wonderful visions of many direly defeated Figures, begging for mercy (never to any
avail of course). In her great self-absorbedness, the Queen even failed to notice
the presence of the Figure, quietly seated at the gaming table. When she finally
did set eyes on her foe, she was just a bit startled by his appearance. The Figure
was covered from top to bottom in dust and cobwebs: all those era’s, he hadn’t
moved an inch! The Queen quickly composed herself however, assumed her royal
position at the chess table and simply said:

- ‘Shall we commence?’
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- ‘Let’s!’, the Figure replied, exclaiming his first words in exactly one hundred
era’s.

And what a game it was! If the first ever encounter between Queen and Figure was
epic, then this one was,…well,…surely something more than epic! The shier
boldness of the Queen’s opening moves! The fridacious retorts of the fearless
Figure! One outrageous move after the other, odds shifting like mad, pieces
dancing furiously back and forth and left and right: the board simply tingled with
enchantment! At any given time, it was utterly impossible to tell who had the
upper hand. Eventually however, the fog of war cleared and revealed, once more,
the set-up for an inevitable draw.

- ‘It appears that we shall remain forever undecided, your Audaciousness’, the
Figure remarked.

The Queen was lost for a witty comeback. Instead, she stared blankly at the board,
as if expecting the irrevocably blocked bishops or neutralized queen to provide her
with the ultimate solution. They choose to remain mute, so the Queen lifted her
weary head and looked straight into the wondering eyes of the Figure:

- ‘We play on.’

- ‘Is Your Undecidedness quite sure?’, the Figure asked.

- ‘She is.’

The battle continued, but without the joyous fervour of ere. In fact, it was a sad
spectacle to behold. Even the most uneducated of chess amateurs could see that
there was nothing more to play for in this game. But the Queen pressed on, shifting
her pieces without aim or purpose. The Figure reacted accordingly, uninterestedly
dragging his queen from side to side. It seemed this game was going to go on
forever. Literally. What the Queen hoped to achieve through the pointless
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prolongation of this long lost cause, only she knows. Still, she seemed determined
to push her luck beyond the boundaries of reason and bring this charade to an end.
Any end.

- ‘That is your move?’, asked the Figure light-heartedly.

- ‘No, that is my pet giraffe’, snarled the Queen.

- ‘Very well, then this is my move. Check…’

The Figure moved his white queen in the direct line of the black king.

- ‘…and I believe…mate’.

The Queen turned green. Of course, she was already green, for she was a snake.
But now she turned even greener:

- ‘No! I can still…there is…my king….’

- ‘It is mate, Your Forlornness’.

- ‘But it can’t be!’

- ‘It can and it is. I am now officially your King, such was our agreement.’

- ‘Don’t be silly. If I just move my bishop this way, I…’

- ‘My Queen, face the facts: you’ve lost, there is no way out, my queen will slay
the king.’

- ‘Indeed she will’.

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Quick as a flash, the Queen lunged forward and consumed the Figure in one big
gobble.
- ‘Burp’, she said, rather un-royal-like.

So there stood the proud and victorious ruler in her deserted Lair. She did not seem
intent on celebrating. She just lingered there, unmoving, as in suspended
animation. This curious state of lethargy continued for anywhere between a second
and an eternity, before the Queen’s body set itself in motion again and slithered
onto the spacious balcony of the throne room. The Queen looked out over her
empty empire and sighed:

- ‘God, I’m lonely…’

And those were the last words the Snake Goddess ever spoke.