The Anatomy of the Cat

By Poul Vad

The five corpses were carried into a tent and laid out in a row, and the tireless Miss Törngren sent for the superintendent of police, who sent for the chairman of the parish council, who gave orders for the chief of the Savages to be summoned to appear. Bab el Mandeb III was called upon, but refused to leave his tent - he had commandeered a tent for himself and posted two of his trusted men outside it - before his cassock was returned to him. It had been sent away for laundering and delousing, and when it was almost dry it was brought to his tent so he could attire himself. Unfortunately the venerable old garment had not been able to stand the unusual treatment and the material had torn in various places. But Bab el Mandeb had no choice and was obliged to don the cassock in its damaged state.

During the course of the day a number of curious onlookers had gathered and now stood at a seemly distance observing the strange forms taken from the goods van. There were farmhands, old women and children of all ages. Open-mouthed and with hands in their pockets they stood gaping for hours without stirring from the spot.

Bab el Mandeb emerged from his tent, and led by one of the soldiers strode off between the other tents. His ragged cassock, full of rips and holes, flapped around him, he was unsteady on his thin stick-like legs, trying to maintain his dignity by lifting his bald head high and staring stiffly in front of him with eyes screwed up against the dazzling light.

Look at him! yelled one of the rustic onlookers, starting to chuckle. The men burst out laughing, the children screamed and the women hissed disapprovingly at the sight of the shameful spectacle. Bab el Mandeb stopped, unnoticed by the soldier who continued to follow his nose straight ahead, he stared scowling at the noisy spectators and stretched out a thin arm with index finger raised as if he thought he could appeal to his God beneath these distant skies. Someone picked up a stone and threw it at him. Hit him, the black devil! they yelled, and soon the stones were hurtling towards the dumbfounded patriarch, who held his arms before his face to ward off the blows and reeled as if he was about to be struck down on the spot despite the fact that only one or two stones reached their target. The guards put a stop to the bombardment, the farmhands put their hands back in their pockets and went off in a huff, and only the women and children remained.

Bab el-Mandeb was led into the tent where the police superintendent, the chairman of the parish council, Miss Törngren and Bøje Thompson awaited him.

Unfortunately five of your people are dead, said the parish council chairman. I assume Your Reverence will take care of the funeral, but could it not be done with some discretion?

Bøje Thompson translated his words into English. Bab el Mandeb looked at them scornfully and said, You have killed them, you must bury them yourselves.

Naturally, cried Miss Törngren, the patriarch is right. It is our Christian duty to arrange the funeral.

Now, just a moment, said the superintendent gruffly, I have been told on highest authority that everything is to take place as discreetly as possible. In any case, there will be no burial in the churchyard with a priest and a sexton and I don´t know what else. Ask him if he has any wishes regarding the funeral.

We have one wish only, said Bab el Mandeb, which is that they should be buried in the earth of their homeland. And if that cannot be done, the rest is pointless. Their souls are with us, and we shall of course look after them and help them on their way up to God. Do with their dead bodies as you please.

I think we may give up on any further negotiations, said Bøje Thompson. I have been travelling with Bab el Mandeb, as he is called, for weeks and I know him fairly well. We shan´t be able to change any ideas he has got into his head.

The parish council chairman scratched his head and said, Just let him go then. We can deal with the matter circumspectly enough. What do one or two more or less of those black devils matter? We can see these disappear without anyone noticing, and I´ve already thought out how to deal with it.

Remember I must keep within the law, said the police superintendent solemnly. It must be done legally.

To be sure, said the parish council chairman, the law applies to us, of course, and you´ll see to it that it is not broken. But you aren´t going to make me believe that it applies to absolutely everyone we get saddled with from darkest Africa or any other place on earth.

Well, I don´t know about that, said the superintendent, I shall have to make enquiries about it at the Ministry of Justice.

Are we to have those corpses lying here rotting until some bureaucrat or other in Copenhagen looks up a clause applicable to this confounded case, if such a clause exists at all? Haven´t you yourself been told the whole thing must be done as diplomatically as possible? Once you make contact with the Ministry of Justice you can be sure the national press will get hold of the story. And then I wouldn´t like to be police superintendent.

In a way, said the superintendent thoughtfully, in a way they don´t actually exist at all. As far as I know, they died before the metal rings were put on their legs. So they do not have any numbers and have not been registered anywhere, and when they are not registered they do not come under my authority. But in that case it is probably better all the same to proceed with caution, and I would prefer to know nothing at all about anything, neither death nor burial.

Translated by Anne Born