Paganistan: Notes from the Secret Commonwealth
In Which One Midwest Man-in-Black Confers, Converses & Otherwise Hob-Nobs with his Fellow Hob-Men (& -Women) Concerning the Sundry Ways of the Famed but Ill-Starred Tribe of Witches.
Horned Throne
It sounds kind of like a bad joke.
Minos sits on the Griffin Throne.
King Solomon sits on the Lion Throne.
The Shah (bad cess to him) sits on the Peacock Throne.
So where does the King of the Witches sit?
(Jeopardy theme plays.)
Well, on his butt, of course.
In 1966, Alex Sanders was (controversially) crowned King of the Witches.
(Well, King of Some Witches, anyway.)
This raises an interesting question.
What throne does the King—or Queen—of Witches occupy?
Based on historic precedent (see above: the numbers could be multiplied), we seem to have a “supporting heraldic critters” theme going here, but somehow none of the animals usually associated with witches quite makes the royal grade.
The Bat Throne? The Toad Throne? The Goat Throne? No, no, and no.
The Raven Throne, of course, is already occupied. (Odin, of course.)
The Jet Throne? No, for obvious reasons. The Amber Throne sounds good, but we want something that, as soon as you hear it, makes you think: Ah, Witches.
The Dark Throne, maybe? Naw, that's Sauron....
Myself, I was thinking maybe the Antler Throne, witches being a People of the Deer, after all. Here in America, at least, the god of witches tends to sport a pretty healthy rack Himself.
The Horn Throne, maybe? Horns crown; a seat crowned with horns becomes thereby a royal seat, no?
My friend and colleague Frebur Warlowe suggests the Horned Throne. That's my own favorite proposal to date.
Readers?
Interestingly, since Alex Sander's death in 1988, the Horned Throne has gone untenanted.
I suppose no one else wants the job.
Comments
-
Please login first in order for you to submit comments