Bertie and the Hairdresser Who Ruled the World (21 page)

‘Look, no one was more sceptical than I, but then I saw Alice at work was astonished at the results. Her oracular vision, clairvoyance, intuition, guesswork, call it what you will, is impressively accurate. For example, we've got an unblemished record on the turf. Bookies scream and bolt their doors when they see us coming – as you've already found out.

‘Think about it, Celeste. We're all creatures brought to consciousness by this planet. Our ancestors were much more in tune with the natural world than we are now. Just because we prefer to rely on the internet, heated curling tongs, mobile phones and depilation cream, doesn't mean these natural forces have diminished.

‘I could blather on all day, but once you're Gaia and see the Pythia in action, you'll soon change your mind. Pity you weren't with us when Alice was in her prime. She was one of the most powerful oracles since the time of Blessed Lycia. Until her breakdown, of course.'

‘You've referred to this Blessed Lycia several times. What is it? I want to know more!'

‘Cutie knows more than anyone alive. Let her tell the story.'

‘Sure, Gaia, it'll be a pleasure. Of all the ancient societies, one of the most successful, prosperous and free was the Lycian,' said Cutie, slipping back into her role as narrator, ‘and that was so because it was essentially matriarchal in nature. However, we have to go even further back in history to appreciate the reasoning behind Helen's choice of Lycia as the society within which to embed the developing Sisterhood. She was actually trying to emulate the Cretan Minoans, who were wiped out by the eruption of Santorini. Minoan civilization was also matriarchal and highly successful in itself. Did you know they invented air conditioning two millennia before Christ? Had that volcano at Santorini not popped, then the entire history of Western civilization would have been radically different. Greek culture would have been very strongly matriarchal, influencing the Romans afterward. There would have been very few wars and religion would never have been allowed to stifle scientific advancement. As a consequence, our race would likely now be cruising the galaxy instead of bumbling across the Atlantic in glorified tin tubes powered by spark plugs!

‘The time of Lycia was actually the Sisterhood's most successful era. Women established the Lycian Federation, a loose collection of city-states strung out along the coastline of what is now south-west Turkey. Each city had a vote in the national assembly, and the larger ones had three votes each. The ruins of these cities can still be seen today – you can go on a package holiday jeep safari and drive through the ruins of tragic Xanthos, up to majestic Tlos or to dreaming Pinara in its mountain fold. This assembly then elected judges and other important officials, and the Lyciarch to be their leader. It was the earliest recognizable form of representational democracy and it was a good model, good enough for Thomas Jefferson to admire and acknowledge when he was writing the US constitution. It's still that influential, even today! The whole of European civilization and everything that's sprung from it can be traced back to the early democracy of Lycia. Their Federation survived under various occupations, knowing when to bend in the wind, welcoming Alexander the Great and, more notably, embracing the Romans, who were entirely happy to let the Lycians run their own affairs with the absolute minimum of interference. The Sisterhood's influence again.'

‘So if Lycia was so successful, why are these cities now all ruined?'

‘Earthquakes! Big bastards. They all went at the same time so they couldn't support each other. The population that survived could not rebuild and the only way they could avoid starvation was to return to the land.'

Celeste emerged from the tunnel into the low-ceilinged library again. It felt almost claustrophobic after the astonishing airiness of the massive subterranean Temple. ‘You should have been a history teacher,' she said to Cutie.

‘God, no,' replied Cutie. ‘Don't condemn me, please! Knowing all our accepted history is wrong and having to keep it quiet would send me mad. Besides, I hate kids!'

‘You're still a child yourself,' growled Miserable Martha, still apparently smarting from being likened to a boring old biddy.

‘No I'm not. I've recently acquired the vote, which I fully intend to use at the earliest opportunity. How could I not, having just expounded the virtues of democracy? I also have an IQ that's indecently high, three-quarters of a degree in classical languages and a deeper knowledge of truth than any university lecturer will ever have. That's why I dropped out of Oxford the moment Gaia and the Pythia sought me out and asked me to be the Guardian of the Temple. The youngest ever!' she added with swelling pride. ‘But I couldn't do my job without my lovely Mama.' Cutie kissed Martha on each cheek and draped arms around her neck, hugging her affectionately, an action that brought some considerable embarrassment to the older woman. ‘There's Celeste thinking I do all the work around here,' she said, ‘when Mama's just as clever as I am, so I'll let her finish the story – she gets really grumpy when I don't let her say anything.'

Blushing furiously, Martha gently disentangled herself from Cutie's embrace, fumbled with her spectacles and, recovering from her discomfiture, struck a formal pose. She thought for a moment, then launched into her subject with barely disguised enthusiasm, a lively spark in her eye. ‘The Lycians fought in the Trojan war where, no doubt, Helen first became aware of the matriarchal nature of their civilization. After the war, she and Hermione visited Lycia on a number of occasions and were so impressed they decided to base the embryonic Sisterhood there. On Midsummer's Eve, 1176 BC, they stood on the sands at Patara accompanied by matriarchs of all the major cities. Under the stars, these women formed the Sisterhood, its aim to avoid at all costs a repeat of the disaster of the Trojan War. Basically, they pledged themselves to try everything in their power to moderate the blind stupidity of men, to mitigate, deflect, ameliorate, call it what you will, the urge men have to destroy and kill each other. They would use their guile and persuasion to influence kings, princes and despots away from courses of conflict. At the same time, they would attempt to preserve knowledge as a hedge against any potential catastrophe. They established the post of Gaia to lead the Sisterhood, the Pythia to advise and help the Gaia, and they immediately began recruiting from every region in the ancient world. We've been at it ever since,' she concluded with a shrug, ‘and sadly, history has shown we've only been marginally successful.'

‘Don't be modest, Mama,' chided Cutie. ‘Yes, there have been many wars, but there would have been many, many more without us.'

‘Cutie is right,' added Doreen. ‘We've done much that can never be acknowledged and sometimes we even have to force an aggression to prevent a greater disaster, but normally we are able to effect changes more subtly, as I've been trying to do in Paraguay. Sadly, there have been untold wars and the human race has suffered enormously, but believe me, things could have been catastrophically worse had we not existed.'

‘Curious, isn't it,' mused Cutie. ‘Popular literature is awash with numerous adventure novels all about secret organisations and cabals, all evil, all run by men – and all entirely fictitious. The only one that actually exists is the Sisterhood, it's run entirely by women and it's been extraordinarily beneficial to all mankind for the last three millennia. Now, surely that tells you something, doesn't it?'

Celeste considered this and realised the two women were speaking from sure knowledge. It was a sobering thought. She sighed. ‘This is too much,' she said quietly. ‘I need tea, a breath of fresh air – and I need to think.'

They took their refreshments in the flower garden, sitting in the shade of an ornate arbour dripping in heavy clematis blooms. Bertie sat on the back of a chair, preening and chirping to himself happily. Doreen and Cutie respected Celeste's silence, watching as Martha tended to several beehives dotted about on the far side of the garden, her protective clothing making her look like Miss Havisham out on the pull. An industrious humming filled the air.

‘You've got a lot of bees,' Celeste murmured.

‘We make a lot of honey,' replied Doreen. ‘Martha wants to give you a jar as a present.'

‘Thank you. Bertie likes a spot of honey once in a while.'

‘Yummy honey,' said Bertie. He closed his eyes and started to purr in contentment as Celeste stroked him absently. Eventually, she shook herself out of her reverie, dunked her biscuit and took a sip of tea.

‘Better?' asked Cutie.

‘Considerably.'

‘Good. The custard creams help, don't they?'

‘They do indeed. Excellent dunking biscuits.' She looked around at the beautifully tended garden. ‘So who else lives here? These flowers don't grow on their own.'

‘Jenny looks after the gardens and grows our vegetables. She's also a very good cook. Then there's me and Mama, Maggie the demon turf-tipper and Gaia's assistant, Sandra. She comes over at weekends because she's not getting any cock and has nothing better to do.'

‘Oh, dear.'

‘It's a source of amusement to us all.'

‘And how many abroad?'

‘Sisters are close to the powerful in just about every country in the world,' said Doreen. ‘You know what they say – behind every man is a great woman. There's more truth in that than you can imagine. In all, there's about four hundred. Also, because of our long association with Turkey, our chief historian, Jodi Taylor, is currently overseeing the restoration of Patara, and a fine job she's doing as well. Jodi has induced the authorities to commence a reinstatement of the old pharos, the lighthouse at the entrance to the harbour. The Turks have only recently begun to appreciate their staggering archaeological heritage and, unlike in this country, where we merely preserve our ruins, they've adopted an enthusiastic policy of reconstructing their ancient buildings using all the original stones, most of which still lie where they fell. It's a remarkable programme and we're proud to be involved, albeit in our usual subtle manner.'

‘The Lycians established their national assembly in Patara and a bouletarion was built there, next to the amphitheatre,' added Cutie.

‘What the hell's a bouletarion?'

‘A council building,' explained Doreen. ‘It's like a smaller version of the main theatre, but a bit grander. The Lycian Federation met there to vote on the issues of the day, but it also doubled up as the venue for the new Sisterhood. It's lost its roof now, but you can still visit Patara and see the ruins. I've been there myself. Got some photos somewhere of Bernie pottering around. You and I will have to go. Even we have traditions, and each new Gaia is dedicated inside the bouletarion at Patara.'

‘I can't go to Turkey!'

‘Of course you can. We'll drive to Birmingham and jump on an Airbus! We'll have a great time. It was in Patara that the fledgling concepts of democracy and representation were established. Lovely, bountiful, rich, peaceful Lycia had already proved democracy could work, and the sisters went out to spread the message throughout the world.'

Cutie nodded. ‘Its matriarchal society was dedicated to nurturing and caring. The Lycians were peaceful unless threatened, strong in defence, generous in spirit, just in law and fair in judgement. We know all this today because the Sisterhood had long established itself at the heart of their society and our records are very clear – you can read them yourself if your Lycian and ancient Greek are up to scratch.'

‘I'm hungry,' announced Bertie to no one in particular. It was one of his regular general requests for comestibles.

‘There's some fruit in the kitchen,' said Martha, joining them. ‘What does he eat?'

‘Ask him yourself,' replied Celeste. ‘Use simple words and you'll probably get a response.'

‘Simple words?'

‘Yes. Monosyllabic.' She paused, a mischievous twinkle in her eye. ‘I've been led to believe you're good at Scrabble, Martha, so I'm sure you can think of a few.' She winked at Cutie, who was trying desperately to stifle her giggles at Mama's sudden discomfort. The situation appeared to be causing some considerable confusion for Martha. She glanced at Doreen, perhaps hoping for a word of encouragement from her Gaia, but all Doreen did was raise an eyebrow fractionally. Cutie, helpfully, slapped Martha hard between the shoulder-blades and she stumbled forward, suddenly finding herself face to face with the big macaw. Bertie regarded her with what could only be described as a withering stare.

‘Bertie?' she asked, somewhat querulously.

‘Yes,' came the response. ‘I'm Bertie. Who are you?'

‘I'm Martha.'

‘Oh. Jolly good.' This was a new phrase for Bertie. He'd been waiting for the appropriate moment to use it. This seemed the time. It was delivered with all the haughty disdain of a dowager duchess encountering an unhygienic gentleman of the road while out walking her pompadoured Pekingese.

‘Do you want some fruit?'

Bertie recognised the words and their pleasurable consequence. Perhaps this old grey woman was nice after all. Wilf was nice. He was old and grey as well. Perhaps this was something common to all old and grey people. He thought for a moment, then said, ‘Yes.' There was another short pause. ‘Please,' he added, remembering his manners.

‘Not pears,' advised Celeste. ‘Definitely not pears!'

‘I think we have some apples and bananas.'

‘Thank you, that will be fine.' Martha scuttled off to the kitchens, relieved to have survived the short interview.

‘Mummy?'

‘Yes, my love.'

‘Fly?'

‘Yes.'

With permission granted, Bertie leapt up and, with a powerful sweep of his wings, soared away over the gables. The conversation had been too quick and complex for him to understand so, with boredom setting in, he decided to explore while waiting for his food. The Hall swung around beneath him, surrounded by its fertile, kaleidoscopic gardens. The rounded hill covering the Temple was dotted with snoozing sheep. Another building nearby took his interest and he swooped in for a closer look. A pentagonal folly housed the primary mirror for the Temple's peerless lighting system. Visible only from the air, the structure was subtly camouflaged from prying eyes by a thick ring of holly trees.