“How awful.” Cassie felt shocked.
Jun continued. “That era in Chinese history is commonly referred to as ‘the burning of books and the burying of scholars.’”
“One hesitates to inquire about that second phrase,” Griffin remarked dryly.
“Perhaps Rou should tell you what it means,” Jun hinted.
Rather than reply, the girl stuffed her mouth so full of noodles that no words could emerge. Chewing energetically, she shook her head.
Her grandfather sighed and resumed the story. “Many scholars criticized the burning of books, and this provoked the emperor to take action against them. According to legend, 460 Confucian scholars were buried alive in Xianyang City. It is very possible that the number has been exaggerated.”
“Still,” Cassie objected. “That’s a pretty horrible way to go.”
“And that was precisely the point,” Jun said. “An unpleasant death was the perfect way to discourage intellectual dissent. If even one scholar was buried alive, the others would think twice before spreading ideas than ran contrary to the imperial ideology.”
“The concept of ‘thought police’ is much older than I estimated,” the scrivener observed.
“I’m glad Rou brought up the subject,” Jun said. “It explains why we have lost so much of China’s matristic past. All the histories which documented the time of the Hongshan and other early cultures were destroyed during the Qin Dynasty purge. Even the two copies which would have been kept in the court library were lost to us in 206 BCE when the imperial palaces were burned by invading enemies. Now all that remains are the myths of Nu Kwa.”
Taking another helping of sweet and sour cucumber salad, Cassied asked, “What’s a ‘Nu Kwa’?”
Rou giggled softly but offered no comment.
“Did I say something wrong?” Cassie gave the girl a curious glance.
Jun elaborated. “Rou is laughing because Nu Kwa isn’t an ‘it’ but a ‘she.’ There are many different pronunciations of her name. Nu Kwa. Nuwa. Nugua. But they all refer to the same being. A female divinity who created the cosmos. Later historians saddled her with a male consort—her brother Fuxi.”
Griffin raised a skeptical eyebrow. “Whenever we hear of brother-sister marriages, we’re usually dealing with a transition from matrism to patriarchy, both in mythology and in actual social practice. Your fable of Nu Kwa hints at a time when China was matrilineal.”
“Chinese names confirm that theory,” Jun agreed. “The lettering of the most ancient surnames all contain a female root character. This would indicate a time in China’s prehistory when lineage was traced through the mother’s side of the family.”
The trove keeper smiled self-consciously. “I seem to be straying from the topic. To return to the story of Nu Kwa. China’s mythical past begins millennia ago under the rulership of three successive sovereigns followed by five emperors. You must understand that the terms ‘sovereign’ and ‘emperor’ are honorary titles since imperial China didn’t exist until 221 BCE. The three sovereigns were: Nu Kwa—the Creator, Shen-Nung—the Divine Farmer, and Huang Di—the Yellow Emperor. Nu Kwa is the first, which makes her the primordial ancestress. As I said earlier, Chinese imperial historians married her to a brother-consort, but in the original myths, she reigned alone. Early records are vague on timing, but some say that Nu Kwa lived around 2900 BCE. That would make her contemporary with the Hongshan culture. In myths, she is often called the ‘snake goddess.’ The upper half of her body is human while the lower half is that of a snake.”
Griffin nodded sagely. “Women and snakes have been mythologically connected since the beginning of time. The python seer in Botswana, the West African goddess Mawu, the Egyptian cobra goddess Wadjet, the pythia at Delphi, the Medusa, Minoan snake handlers, even Voodoo queen Marie Laveau and her python.”
“There’s a very simple explanation for that association,” Jun said. “And it’s not the silly phallic connection that overlord historians are so fond of making.”
Both Griffin and Cassie gave him puzzled looks.
The trove keeper continued. “It all has to do with shamans—women who were the oldest spiritual guides of humankind. They existed in every culture around the world. In order to visit the phantom realms, they had to rely on substances to alter their states of consciousness. To this day in the Americas, shamans will ingest mushrooms or smoke peyote. Siberian shamans depend on repetitive drumming ceremonies to induce a hypnotic state. But the most ancient tactic used by shamans was snake venom.”
“I never thought of that,” the scrivener murmured in surprise.
“But snake venom is so toxic it would kill the shaman who used it,” Cassie objected.
“That depends on the species of snake,” Jun countered with a smile. “Not all are lethal. In fact, most produce the kind of venom that is a powerful hallucinogen. Shamans knew which snakes to use for their rituals. Have you never wondered why so many folk religions revere the wisdom of the snake?”
“It always seemed odd to me,” the pythia commented. “There’s nothing particularly brainy about reptiles.”
“Not as such,” Griffin said. “But the idea makes sense in light of Jun’s explanation that their venom can induce paranormal states which impart wisdom to the shaman.”
“Of course, shamans and their snakes were a threat to overlord religion and needed to be driven out,” Jun added.
“Just like Catholic St. Patrick drove the pagan snakes out of Ireland,” Cassie joked.
“Exactly so,” Jun concurred in all seriousness. “There are many examples of serpents being destroyed by one overlord hero or another. The snake who caused all the trouble in the Garden of Eden was crushed under the foot of the Christian Virgin Mary. The Python who protected Delphi was slain by the Greek god Apollo. Tiamat was destroyed by Marduk in Babylonian origin stories. These are all examples of shamanic religion being eradicated
