Carpe Jugulum

Title: Carpe Jugulum
Author(s): Terry Pratchett
Release year: 1998
Publisher: Doubleday

Why in Database: Quite a turtle book, mainly because one of the essential characters is the priest of Om, so there are some references to the events of Small Gods and established by the events of this book, Om-Turtle symbolism.

The first reference, however, is more traditional – about A’Tuin.

It was also said, although not by the people who lived in Lancre, that below the rim, where the seas thundered continuously over the edge, their home went through space on the back of four huge elephants that in turn stood on the shell of a turtle that was as big as the world.
The people of Lancre had heard of this. They thought it sounded about right. The world was obviously flat, although in Lancre itself the only truly flat places were tables and the top of some people’s heads, and certainly turtles could shift a fair load. Elephants, by all accounts, were pretty strong too. There didn’t seem any major gaps in the thesis, so Lancrastrians left it at that.

The first mention of Oats pendant:

He carefully lowered his holy turtle pendant into place, noting its gleam with some satisfaction, and picked up his finely printed graduation copy of the Book of Om. Some of his fellow students had spent hours carefully ruffling the pages to give them that certain straight-and-narrow credibility, but Oats had refrained from this as well. Besides, he knew most of it by heart.

The next references to turtles is more general, it is about similarity of a certain phenomenon to them:

She’d seen Hodgesaargh occasionally, around the edges of the woods or up on the moors.
Usually the royal falconer was vainly fighting off his hawks, who attacked him for a pastime, and in the case of King Henry kept picking him up and dropping him again in the belief that he was a giant tortoise.

The next three are about the pendant:

“I am protected by the hand of Om,” he said.
Nanny inspected the pendant. It show a figure trussed across the back of a turtle.
“You say?” she said. “That’s a good wheeze, then.”

“And this is the holy turtle of Om, which I believe should make me cringe back in fear. My, my. Not even a very good replica. Cheaply made.”
Oats found a reserve of strength. He managed to say “And how would you know, foul fiend?”
“No, no, that’s for demons,” sighed the Count. He handed the turtle back to Oats.

Oats’s hands clasped his turtle pendant for comfort as he tried to remember.

Next is a direct reference to the events of the Small Gods:

“It is said three thousand people witnessed his manifestation at the Great Temple when he make the Covenant with the prophet Brutha and saved him from death by torture on the iron turtle—”

Nie tylko Om jest wspominany w żółwim kontekście, Igor wspomina także nieokreśloną sadzawkę Świętego Żółwia:

“Thith ith water from the Holy Turtle Pond of Thquintth,” said a voice above them. “Blethed by the Bithop himthelf in the Year of the Trout.” There was a glugging noise and the sound of someone swallowing. “That wath a good year for beatitude,” Igor went on. “But you don’t have to take my word for it. Duck, you thuckerth!”

The last three, again revolve around the (lost) pendant and what Oats finally got instead:

Oats reached to his neck for the security of the turtle, and it wasn’t there. It has cost him five obols in the Citadel, and it was too late now to reflect that perhaps he shouldn’t have hung it from a chain worth a tenth of an obol. It was probably lying in some pool, or buried in some muddy, squelching marsh…

“What happened to your holy hat?”
“It got lost,” said Oats abruptly. Granny peered closer.
“Your magic amulet’s gone too,” she said. “The one with the turtle and the little man on it.”
“It’s not a magic amulet, Mistress Weatherwax! Please! A magic amulet is a symbol of primitive
and mechanistic superstition, whereas the Turtle of Om is…is…is…well, it’s not, do you
understand?”

“Oh.” Verence looked nonplussed, but kings learn to swing back upright. “I’m sure you know your own mind best.” He swayed slightly as Magrat’s elbow grazed his ribs. “Oh…yes…we heard you lost your, er, holy amulet and so this afternoon we, that is to say the Queen and Miss Nitt… got Shawn Ogg to make this in the mint…”
Oats unwrapped the black velvet scroll. Inside, on a golden chain, was a small golden doubleheaded ax. He stared at it.
“Shawn isn’t very good at turtles,” said Magrat, to fill the gap.


Author: XYuriTT

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