Penguin Island — 24 Bk3 Ch3 - Queen Crucha
III. QUEEN CRUCHA
Terrible disorders followed the death of Draco the Great.
That prince’s
successors have often been accused of weakness, and it is true that
none of them followed, even from afar, the example of their valiant
ancestor.
His son, Chum, who was lame, failed to increase the territory of the
Penguins.
Bolo, the son of Chum, was assassinated by the palace guards
at the age of nine, just as he was ascending the throne.
His brother
Gun succeeded him.
He was only seven years old and allowed himself to
be governed by his mother, Queen Crucha.
Crucha was beautiful, learned, and intelligent; but she was unable to
curb her own passions.
These are the terms in which the venerable Talpa expresses himself in
his chronicle regarding that illustrious queen: “In beauty of face and symmetry of figure Queen Crucha yields neither
to Semiramis of Babylon nor to Penthesilea, queen of the Amazons; nor
to Salome, the daughter of Herodias.
But she offers in her person
certain singularities that will appear beautiful or uncomely according
to the contradictory opinions of men and the varying judgments of the
world.
She has on her forehead two small horns which she conceals in
the abundant folds of her golden hair; one of her eyes is blue and one
is black; her neck is bent towards the left side; and, like Alexander
of Macedon, she has six fingers on her right hand, and a stain like a
little monkey’s head upon her skin.
“Her gait is majestic and her manner affable.
She is magnificent in her
expenses, but she is not always able to rule desire by reason.
“One day, having noticed in the palace stables, a young groom of great
beauty, she immediately fell violently in love with him, and entrusted
to him the command of her armies.
What one must praise unreservedly in
this great queen is the abundance of gifts that she makes to the
churches, monasteries, and chapels in her kingdom, and especially to
the holy house of Beargarden, where, by the grace of the Lord, I made
my profession in my fourteenth year.
She has founded masses for the
repose of her soul in such great numbers that every priest in the
Penguin Church is, so to speak, transformed into a taper lighted in the
sight of heaven to draw down the divine mercy upon the august Crucha.”
From these lines and from some others with which have enriched my text
the reader can judge of the historical and literary value of the “Gesta
Penguinorum.” Unhappily, that chronicle suddenly comes suddenly to an
end at the third year of Draco the Simple, the successor of Gun the
Weak.
Having reached that point of my history, I deplore the loss of an
agreeable and trustworthy guide.
During the two centuries that followed, the Penguins remained plunged
in blood-stained disorder.
All the arts perished.
In the midst of the
general ignorance, the monks in the shadow of their cloister devoted
themselves to study, and copied the Holy Scriptures with indefatigable
zeal.
As parchment was scarce, they scraped the writing off old
manuscripts in order to transcribe upon them the divine word.
Thus
throughout the breadth of Penguinia Bibles blossomed forth like roses
on a bush.
A monk of the order of St. Benedict, Ermold the Penguin, had himself
alone defaced four thousand Greek and Latin manuscripts so as to copy
out the Gospel of St. John four thousand times.
Thus the masterpieces
of ancient poetry and eloquence were destroyed in great numbers.
Historians are unanimous in recognising that the Penguin convents were
the refuge of learning during the Middle Ages.
Unending wars between the Penguins and the Porpoises filled the close
of this period.
It is extremely difficult to know the truth concerning
these wars, not because accounts are wanting, but because there are so
many of them.
The Porpoise Chronicles contradict the Penguin Chronicles
at every point.
And, moreover, the Penguins contradict each other as
well as the Porpoises.
I have discovered two chronicles that are in
agreement, but one has copied from the other.
A single fact is certain,
namely, that massacres, rapes, conflagrations, and plunder succeeded
one another without interruption.
Under the unhappy prince Bosco IX.
the kingdom was at the verge of
ruin.
On the news that the Porpoise fleet, composed of six hundred
great ships, was in sight of Alca, the bishop ordered a solemn
procession.
The cathedral chapter, the elected magistrates, the members
of Parliament, and the clerics of the University entered the Cathedral
and, taking up St. Orberosia’s shrine, led it in procession through the
town, followed by the entire people singing hymns.
The holy patron of
Penguinia was not invoked in vain.
Nevertheless, the Porpoises besieged
the town both by land and sea, took it by assault, and for three days
and three nights killed, plundered, violated, and burned, with all the
indifference that habit produces.
Our astonishment cannot be too great at the fact that, during those
iron ages, the faith was preserved intact among the Penguins.
The
splendour of the truth in those times illumined all souls that had not
been corrupted by sophisms.
This is the explanation of the unity of
belief.
A constant practice of the Church doubtless contributed also to
maintain this happy communion of the faithful—every Penguin who thought
differently from the others was immediately burned at the stake.
