My Journey

Mule looked at me and shook his head. My promise to be respectful and help out more had obviously floated off on a southerly breeze. Sometimes people say things because they feel they’ve been backed into a corner and it’s the easiest way out. Then again there are times when they make promises they don’t or can’t or never intended to keep; unfortunately if they do that on a regular basis they are deemed untrustworthy. I can see how that works and it’s hardly unusual, most people indulge in that chocolate truffle when it suits them. I am a disappointment to Mule but he doesn’t play fair; it isn’t normal to be as good as he is and always do what’s right and proper.

“I think that you should sort yourself out quickly. We need to keep going and use the cool of the day to make headway. It’s important not to fall behind and I want to call in at the Serpentine Circus.”

“The Serpentine Circus! Gosh! They’re busy little things aren’t they. D’you think I could get a full English there?”

“I think you should hurry up and prepare yourself for a few hours of walking – as opposed to making flippant remarks about people and places you’ve never seen.”

On my last trip with Mule he’d been a serious character, courteous, helpful, quick-witted but essentially serious. I don’t recall him being so grumpy as to seem distant and put out; I was picking up a sense of actual dislike and resentment, as though my presence irked him.

“I’ll tell you what Mule, you go about your business and I’ll be ready before you can say jiffy. It’s obvious that you would prefer to be anywhere but here and I can’t handle ‘sanctimonious’ this early in the day. It’s not my fault you were allocated to me but if you have such an aversion to the task perhaps you should contact Chan…L’Enchanteur and ask if it’s possible for someone else to accompany me down the turpentine road. Oh, cheers, feel free to yawn your head off when we’re in the middle of a row, very polite, very professional…what’s that on your tail?”

There was something on Mule’s tail I hadn’t noticed before; something that looked for all the world like a ribbon or fancy coloured string. I hadn’t seen it before we’d settled down for the night and the idea that he’d deliberately choose to decorate his nether regions was inconceivable. He looked startled and yawned again in front of me, in my face if you will, a giant yawn.

“I thought you slept well Mule, how is it you’re so tired if you got a good night’s sleep? Were you fibbing? You don’t look like you’ve had any sleep! There’s something fishy going on here, I smell a rat!”

He was trying not to laugh out loud and believe me, when you bray like a donkey it’s difficult to hide the sniggering. The thing on his tail jiggled about like a kite that couldn’t wait any longer and wanted to flap its way skyward. I walked to the back of his shaking with blaughter (mule speak) body and took a proper look at his festive, rear end decoration.

“Ohhh! Oh and I say again oh! That is a party popper! A party popper! You’d better spill the beans buddy or you and I could have words! How did you get a …a… party popper on your tail in the middle of the night? How? How?”

He was still falling about with amusement; it can be remarkably difficult to keep a straight face when a mule can’t stop blaughing but I was positively fuming. Ten minutes later when he no longer appeared to be demonstrating a four-legged hip-hop (hysterical, I’ll describe it to you some time) and he’d got his breath back he deigned to explain.

“I…hmm…that is…hmm…I haven’t spent the entire night sleeping… here… in this copse.”

“You haven’t? What have you been doing if you haven’t been sleeping?”

For future reference be very careful before you utter that specific phrase to a mule – or indeed any other living creature that possesses the power of speech.

“I took off for a while and… hmm… I went …hmm … to an event.”

“An event? An event! What kind of event does a mule attend in the middle of the night?”

“Oh, a … a… party, sort of… event.”

“A party! A party? In the middle of the night when you were supposed to be sleeping, resting up for the arduous journey ahead. Whose party?”

“The serpents… that is… hmm… the serpents… were having a boogie.”

“The serpents were having a boogie! A boogie! The serpents? It’s incredible! It’s… it’s … beyond words! The mind boggles!”

“Booogles actually.”

“What? Boggles, booogles… what a cheek, what a nerve, I’m …

“Speechless?”

I would like to take this opportunity to add a cautionary note for anyone reading this and considering a trek through Lemuria – don’t. If for any reason it is impossible and you have to venture forth try to make sure that you interview your guide. Even when the guide is allocated, there is nothing quite so humiliating as waking up in the morning to find out that your mule has been bopping whilst you have been blissfully unaware in the land of nod.

“How did you know the serpents were having a boogie? How do serpents boogie anyway? No! Don’t tell me, I’m not sure I can handle the answer.”

Mule had completely calmed down by now and gone so far as to adopt both his serious face and tone. His explanation was, I have to admit, intriguing.

“It was a birthday bash for one of the young serpents, he was celebrating his eighty eight which went marvellously even though someone sneaked in illegal grog. As for how do serpents boogie they are brilliant if you must know for they are both lithe and daring. When it comes to my knowing, I found out months ago on a weekend break in Duwamish, a visit you have never bothered to make even though you have lived in Lemuria for at least a year.”

“Well excuse me my ignorance Mule, I hadn’t realised Duwamish was such a mine of information on the metropolis which passes for Lemurian nightlife. So what happened? Did a serpent slime by with a flyer, call in at the stables and give you the goss on what to put in your diary for the movers and shakers of snake village? Whoo hoo.”

“No, nothing of the sort, you couldn’t be further from the truth. I was given an invitation in a gold leaf envelope made from the skin of a highly prestigious serpent elder and I was most certainly not in a stable.”

“So where were you? Having a look round town? Casting your eyes round the old curiosity shop to see if you could pick up a bargain?”

“I was doing what most mules do when they’re taking a weekend break in Duwamish.”

“Come on then, reveal all.”

“I was sitting on the dock of the bay Jan; perhaps you should try it some time.”

Jan

(The picture is of a serpent boogie when it’s been infiltrated with illegal grog!)

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Crossroads (Last Lemurian Post)

August 30, 2007 by jan2

Crossroads

16 08 2007

Twenty minutes into our journey there had been absolutely no conservation, eye contact or attempt to reconcile our differences. It was a lovely morning, sunny with a slight breeze and a gentle rustling of leaves to accompany nature’s orchestration of bird song and cicadas. We walked at a reasonable pace and managed to cover three miles in pretty quick time – which would normally have been cause for joint self-congratulatory celebrations. There was no such celebration but we slowed down and looked for a patch of grass amidst the trees in order to lean against the trunks and relax in the mosaic of dappled shade. Mule decided to wander off because he sensed there was a creek nearby where he would be able to drink litres of fresh, icy cold water and cool off his hooves. I followed him, secretly praying his senses were behaving with their usual unerring accuracy and there would be a stream close by. When I heard the gurgling rhythm of water on rocks I flung myself to the ground and used my hands as a cup so that I could drink on and on until my thirst was well and truly quenched. We continued to ignore each other but to be honest it was unpleasant; Mule can be excessively stubborn and to my mind I had done nothing wrong

When I’d had enough to drink and filled our canteens I dunked my head as far into the stream as possible to get the sleep out of my eyes and enjoy the feel of rushing water on my face. I stayed there for ten minutes and then took a cloth from one of Mule’s backpacks so that I could use it to protect my hands in order to pick the leaves of nettles, safflower and dandelions that grew in abundance in the wood. Once picked I ground them between two rocks before pounding on them with a heavy stick until I’d created a small handful of powder which was more than enough to wash my hair. I harvested more leaves from a variety of bright yellow, orange, deep blue and purple plants that provided a natural if rather astringent cleanser. One year of life in Lemuria had taught me that seemingly every plant I’d ever seen or read about grew there, weeds were not things to be despised and almost everything could be put to good use.

Mule had finished his ablutions and thirst quenching well before me and was munching on some thick, green, luscious grass. He’d also spotted an apple tree so heavy with fruit he could chomp them off the branch and further on a gloriously abundant cherry tree plus a few strawberry plants just waiting for someone to come along and pick off their sumptuous berries. There was bread in the pack Mule carried and without saying a word I also took out nuts, a little cheese and some carrots, which I put down where he could reach them easily. I leant against the trunk of a comfortable beech tree and enjoyed quite a feast whilst my hair dried in the sunlight that filtered through the branches. Mule had a number of burrs in his coat, he could not reach them and I made a mental note to comb them out before we continued down the road. I was still cross with him but that was no reason to have him suffer from itching which might lead to infection and pain; I am not that callous and I certainly wasn’t prepared to watch him play the martyr. His tail attachment party popper had more or less dropped off with just a couple of crinkly coloured paper twirls swishing about to remind me of his nocturnal partying with the Chattanooga serpents! It was not even 11am but a combination of warmth, food, clean hair, and the emotional rigours of our furious row had made me very tired so I made a pillow from one of the blankets in our kit, stretched out, closed my eyes and fell into the arms of sweet sleep. I assumed Mule had to be tired and would enjoy the rest but if he preferred to crack on it was too bad – he could practise his dance steps whilst I snoozed.

* * * * *

“Jan. Jan. Wake up.”

I had slept for over two hours and Mule did not think he could leave me to sleep for any longer.

“I do hope you have a good reason for waking me Mule, a very good reason, a cast iron, silver plated, twenty four carrot gold diamond encrusted reason – for waking me!”

“I believe I have such a reason.”

“Okay, spill it.”

“I’m leaving you Jan. I’m going back to Duwamish.”

It’s difficult to know how to respond when your allocated Mule decides to abandon you to go off on his own journey. It’s one of those moments where both parties look at each other to make sure they’ve got it right, have they heard properly, misconstrued the sentence and understood the significance of what’s been said.

“You’ve got burrs in your coat. Would you like me to comb them out before you leave?”

“I can find a tree with ripped bark and scrape through my coat.”

“I know that Mule, I know you can look after yourself but it will be easier if I do it for you so is it a yes or a no?”

“Yes. Thank you. It will be a great help to me.”

I was still tired and rather shocked but reached for the comb and went through every inch of hair in long, sweeping movements. Had there been a competition for best-groomed mules he’d have biked it.

“All done Mule, you’re good to go.”

“I’m sorry Jan. This is not the done thing in Lemuria and I know I will never be allocated to another traveller.”

“Oh. What happens to mules that leave their companions on roads they’ve never been down in the middle of nowhere? Shot at dawn? Locked in a shed for the rest of their lives. Banished from the Kingdom?”

“No, nothing so extreme. I’ll be retired and put out to grass. I will request to be placed with Darlene…I’m not sure myself if it will be granted…I’ve never done this before.”

“It’s a shame for you to be retired if you’re not ready. If you are I’m sure no one will deny you a place at Darlene’s, you’ve been a great servant to Lemuria, loyal, brave and faithful. Who makes these decisions?”

“I will report to L’Enchanteur Jan, the Kingdom of Lemuria is hers and in doing this I will have broken with protocol, not kept my oath of allegiance – deserted.”

“Well you tell her from me that you have been my greatest and best companion. It’s hard to travel with some people Mule, I’m difficult, volatile, uncaring, insensitive, demanding – I’d leave me.”

We looked at each other and then I filled his pack with apples and the remaining carrots. He looked completely downcast and I knew how much it grieved him to break his oath. I kissed his brow and felt my eyes glisten with tears but I could not, would not, ask him to stay.

“Fare well dear Mule. God speed.”

I walked away from him and knew that he had set off on his journey up the Serpentine road and back to Duwamish. My face was frozen and the woods blurred. The time had come for me to decide on my own destiny and if it would be wise to turn back myself – not to Duwamish though or any other Lemurian destination. We all reach crossroads in our lives and with Mule gone I was alone, alone again and deeply troubled.

Jan

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