Pop.11 Exercise three

“Bow.”
Pujman bowed low in what he hoped was the correct manner. He had been shown how to bow in her highness’s presence only minutes before. He counted to three and raised his head.
“You may examine the princess, as her doctor.”
“Is her highness behind that curtain? The rich brocade?”
“No, Pujman, she is on the cushion.”
“Which cushion?”
“The one in front of you.”
“Forgive me, chamberlain, I see only one cushion, and on that cushion is a cat.”
“The cat is Princess Suri.”
“I am a stranger in your city. Your customs are str-”
“No customs are involved, Pujman, save those of succession,” said the chamberlain. “The sultan was cursed by a witch. The queen gave birth to a cat. There is an end to it.”
“How can this be?”
“To understand the secrets of the witch, which are secrets of God, is not given to such as we. Our gift is the opportunity to witness, to marvel, and to serve as best we can.”
“But, to bear an animal.”
“To their majesties has been given the opportunity to endure and to retain sanity.”
“How can you hold a cat to be your princess?”
A heavy hand landed on Pujman’s shoulder.
“She has the blood royal,” said the princess’s bodyguard.
Pujman turned and looked up at the bodyguard’s dark face.
“Th-thank you for explaining.” Pujman smiled. The bodyguard did not.
“I trust it is clear to you why we could not explain before,” said the chamberlain.
“Yes, yes,” said Pujman. “Quite clear.”
“You are able to proceed?”
“I am able, and competent. I have experience with animals of all kinds. From camels, to monkeys, to lizards, to cats.”
“Enough talk,” said the bodyguard. “Her highness Princess Suri needs you.”
Pujman advance on the cat, holding out his hand. He rubbed his thumb against his forefinger. It was a way to attract the cat’s attention without seeming threatening. After three paces he was near enough for the cat to smell his knuckle. When he saw the cat’s nostrils flare, he narrowed his eyes.
The cat’s green eyes looked straight at him, holding his squinting gaze for a moment. The slits in the cat’s eyes quivered, then she blinked back.
He stroked it on the top of the head. The cat began to purr.
“Is that a good sign, Pujman?” the chamberlain said.
“It’s how I always approach cats,” said Pujman. “She, I mean, her highness, is relaxed. That is a good sign for an uncomplicated pregnancy.”
“Excellent.”
“I’ll just examine her to make sure.”
“Proceed, proceed. And may God grant us at least one thing that is not complicated.”
Pujman ran his hands along the cat’s sides and belly, and inspected its rear orifices.
“All is well, chamberlain,” he said afterwards. “You have a week to wait.”
“Just a week? Very well.”

Accommodation was found for Pujman in the princess’s palace. This he found most convivial. There where many staff, as one might expect for a princess, but they were all idle for much of the time. Every princess needs a dressmaker, but Princess Suri had no dresses. Every princess needs a dancing instructor, but Princess Suri never took classes. Every princess needs a mathematics tutor, but Princess Suri never learnt to read the stars. And so on. Of the princess’s staff, Pujman was the newest and the most busy, having to attend her two or three times a day.

On the third day of Pujman’s stay there was a commotion. Pujman sought out the chamberlain and asked him the cause.
“Prince Jamshid is returning today.”
“The princess’s brother?”
“Her husband.”
“Husband? But surely nobody would marry a -”
“A what, Pujman?”
“Well, a … come chamberlain … what do you want me to say?”
“I don’t want to say anything offensive. Hence I stopped you. You may be attending her highness for some years yet. It would be well for you to learn to express yourself without using words like cat. This is our protocol in the palace.”
“Yes, chamberlain.” Some years, Pujman thought.
“Now, what did you want to ask me?”
Pujman thought for a moment. Who would marry a cat? Another cat?
“Tell me about Prince Jamshid,” he said after he had considered.
“Of course Pujman. His highness is the son of a neighbouring sultan. He enjoys riding, hunting, music, not so much the poetry or mathematics but perhaps when he is older. He is but a lad of ten now.”
“And how did he meet the princess?”
“He met her on their wedding day. They were betrothed before the princess was born.”
“Ah, politics.”
“Peace, Pujman. It is not given to royalty to wed for love, another burden they must bear.”
“What a burden it can be.”
“Quite so.”

That evening the sultan visited the princess’s palace and an opulent feast was held in his honour. The princess did not attend. Afterwards, the chamberlain gestured to Pujman to sit with the royal guests.
“Well, Jamshid, my son” the king said.
“Sultan and father?”
“I hear that I am to be a grandfather.”
“Yes sultan.”
“There is a question that I must ask, son.”
“Then I must answer.”
“Are you the father?”
The boy blushed and said nothing.
“It’s alright, Jamshid, these things happen,” said the sultan. “Not every royal man can satisfy a royal woman. When this happens, royal women sometimes look elsewhere. Do you follow me Jamshid?”
The young prince looked at the floor.
“This madness,” he said, plucking the cushion on which he sat.
“It is a form of madness that overcomes them, I suppose,” said the sultan. “And when it does, and there are children, it I best to pretend nothing untoward has happened and to treat them as your own. That’s what I will do.”
“Your majesty, father, are you criticising me?”
“Well, who else can eh?” The sultan stood, as did the chamberlain, Jamshid and Pujman.
“In the book of holy readings much is written on the matter of love,” the sultan said. “It may be considered an abuse of a wife for her husband to neglect her needs.”
“But how can I -”
“Let’s speak no more of this. I understand the house is to be blessed with children in a matter of days. You will have to consider them your own, and ponder your shortcomings as a husband.”

The princess Suri gave birth on the day Pujman had predicted. Four kittens were born, all healthy. As is normal, the kittens were born with their eyes closed.
Three days later they opened their eyes. The first three had green eyes like their mother. The other had brown eyes like their grandmother.
“Remarkable,” said the chamberlain. “A cat with the eyes of a man.”
“A girl, chamberlain,” said Pujman. “And what about protocol.”
“Why, this is so remarkable that I abandon protocol, in order to express hope.”
“What hope is that?”
“Well, as I said, I know not the secrets of the witch. But if a human gave birth to a cat, then perhaps a descendant of this cat will give birth to a human?”