My father had gone mad.  I was convinced of that.  I saw him rolling his eyes and throwing his head and shaking bright red crown in his rage against the wind when he was possessed by his madness.

I chanced upon him one evening amongst the palm trees overlooking the river.  He had seized one of my aunts and heaved his massive body over her.  His eyes were wild and unseeing.  His nostrils flared.  His mouth was opened wide.  But it seemed his voice was caught somewhere in his throat and he bit wildly at the fur around my aunt’s neck.  Then as I watched, rooted to the ground, as I watched, curious and confused, as I watched trembling with a strange fear, that was when I saw his madness.  I saw him roll his eyes and throw his head back in a dance of madness.  I saw him bare his teeth and bite at the wind.  I saw him hiss and groan at the heavens.

‘He was possessed.  I saw it on his face!’ I insisted.  My first instinct was to warn my mother of my father’s madness.

‘How can that be?  I saw him by the palms a little while ago and he was certainly well in possession of his faculties.’

‘Yes, at the palm tree.  Small aunt was with him.’

My mother sat up straight in surprise.  She twitched her ears thoughtfully.  ‘Your small aunt?  So what did they do?’

‘He jumped onto her back.  He was going to kill her.’

‘Don’t be silly.  Nobody was hurt, right?’

‘No, she wasn’t hurt.’  I was getting agitated.  Why was my mother always on my father’s side?  ‘But you should have seen the madness in his eyes!’

‘Then it is the madness which seizes all kings,’ my mother declared mildly.  ‘A madness that can only be cured by a female.’

I studied her face, surprised that my revelation had not evoked any fear or concern in my mother.  She had seen that madness before, I concluded.

‘Why didn’t small aunt try to run away?  Was she trying to cure him?’

‘Oh, I don’t know.  Why do you always ask so many questions?’  My mother sighed with an air of resignation.

‘Why does the madness seize a king?  Why does the king choose one or the other females to cure his madness?’  Her voice softened and her eyes flickered with a gentler light.  ‘When a female sees the king’s madness, her heart beats faster.  She’s afraid.  But her limbs refuse to obey her commands.  She’s hypnotised.  And when the king wraps his powerful arms around her body, she feels warm and afraid no more.  She feels secure.’

As I listened to her explanation I felt a coldness stealing into my heart.  I had imagined that my mother’s loyalty to the king was the consideration for the security that the king provided her.  But as I watched the light dancing in her eyes as she spoke of the king I realised that there was an emotional attachment stronger than mere gratitude for his protection.  She was dominated by the king in body and in soul.  And I was powerless to end that domination.

‘You feel an attachment to the king, don’t you?’ I asked rhetorically.  ‘Is the king attached to you?’

I knew that question would hurt.  I glanced at the king sitting on his throne.  Detached and unconcerned.  Mindful only of defending his territorial rights.  His property rights.  How could he feel attached to his property, an object that owned, an object with no feelings of its own.  And females were properties to be owned.

‘The king…’ my mother was at a loss for words.  ‘The king does not need anything… or anyone.  What could I give him that he does not have?  He does not need me for protection.  Nor does he need me for food.  Nor even to cure his madness.  There are others who can cure his madness.’

I bit my lips and pursued the subject relentlessly: ‘Don’t you wish you were the only one, Mother, the only one able to cure his madness?  Then he would be attached to you the same way that you are attached to him.’

My mother did not reply.  She gazed at the king lounging in his throne and she tried to imagine what it would be like to have him all to herself.  She would not need to share him with her half-sisters.  She would be unique in his eyes.

‘In fact if each king takes just one female, there will be enough males and females for each other,’ I continued breathlessly as the idea grew in my mind.  ‘There will be no need for males to fight each other for females.  And no need for sons to leave their father’s pride and wander to faraway and strange places.  Wouldn’t that be wonderful?’

‘Then mothers would not have to lose their sons.’  She looked at me wistfully and concluded: ‘Yes, that would be wonderful.’

‘Yes.  And fathers and sons can live in harmony.  A splendid idea.  Do you think the king will approve of the idea too?’ I asked excitedly.

My mother’s smile faded slowly.  The light in her eyes died.

‘It cannot be.’

‘Why not, Mother?’

‘The king’s madness is more than one person’s ability to cure.  A female’s power waxes and wanes with the sun and the moon.  There are times when the madness comes, and I have no power over it.  So the king will go to one of your aunts who have the power.  In that sense we take turns to cure his madness.’

‘Then the king must learn to control his own madness.  So that fathers and sons can live together.’

My mother turned to look into my eyes, piercing the dark veil of my fears, and seeing only the greatness that she believed in.

‘One day, you will be a king too.  And you will be stricken with madness stronger and more powerful than your father’s.  If you have only one queen, how can she alone cure all your madness?’

‘But I don’t have this madness,’ I protested.  ‘I don’t want to have this madness and I don’t need to be cured of this madness.  I can be happy with just one queen.  We can build a new world where we can be free from this madness.’

My mother shook her head.  She was not convinced by the babble of a child.  ‘You are still young.  You do not understand the changes that await you.  We can talk about this when you’re older.  But I doubt you would wish it then.’

That was her reaction to my brave new ideas.  To her, time was the ultimate test of all ideas.  If they survived the test, they could be dragged out of the closet of your mind, richer for the input of new experiences.  If they did not, they were best left untried and forgotten.

L