Dark Sanctuary

by H. B. Gregory

  “But there were Catholic mystics, Father.”

  “Of course: St. Theresa, St. John of the Cross, and countless more. But theirs was not the way of magic. They always endeavoured to pass the plane upon which the magician works — the astral plane, I think they call it — going higher and ever higher, until at last they achieved union with the ultimate reality, God Himself. No, my son, the real danger of magic is that it leads to egotism, and arrogant pride of one’s own knowledge and power. Seeking after the many, it forgets the One. It strives to know instead of to be. What said Eliphas Levi, perhaps the greatest of the Hermetic philosophers? ‘Too deep a study of the mysteries of nature may estrange from God the careless investigator, in whom mental fatigue paralyses the ardour of the heart.’ And Levi became a Catholic at the last, you know.”

  “I’m afraid I know very little of these things, Father.”

  “The less the better, my son. Tell me, what manner of man is this Nicholas Gaunt?”

  They had finished breakfast, and were sitting smoking Hamilton’s tobacco. The latter thought for a while before replying; then:

  “He’s a charming man, Father. Brilliant; tremendous will-power; amazing knowledge of practically any subject. A fascinating character. Kindly, too, or appears to be. I think he’s honest, and is really fond of Tony.

  “H’m. He’s evidently made a good impression on you, at all events. I must confess I liked what I saw of him at the funeral. And this friend of his, Simon Vaughan — he doesn’t seem to have impressed the Dykes much, from all accounts.”

  “No, he strikes one as rather repulsive at first sight. He’s a short, enormously fat chap; flabby, you know. Head like a toad, rather: bald and flat. Small eyes, with heavy lids. Thick red lips that scarcely move when he speaks, slurring his words. But after you’ve been talking to him for a while he is so polished and delightful that you soon forget his appearance and think what a fool you were to notice it.”

  “A brilliant description, Mr. Hamilton. It stamps you as a journalist. I knew a man like this Vaughan once: a Roman priest he was. But in his case it was his outward appearance that gave the measure of the man after all, for he came to a sticky end, I remember. An unpleasant scandal — he was unfrocked.”

  Hamilton looked sharply at the priest’s calm face.

  “This couldn’t be the same, I suppose?” he asked anxiously.

  “Not the least chance, Mr. Hamilton. That was — what — forty years ago, and he was a man of over sixty. How old is this Vaughan?”

  Hamilton could barely suppress a sigh of relief.

  “Not more than fifty.”

  They sat smoking in silence for a while. Then Hamilton spoke again.

  “I suppose there’s nothing we can do about it, Father. I hate leaving Tony to his own devices, but there it is.”

  “What are your plans, my son?”

  “I shall continue my holiday, walking up the coast. I’ve never been farther north than here.”

  “This coast is very grand — more rugged altogether than in the south. You’ll get plenty of scenery. Where will you make for?”

  “I want to get as far as Tintagel if I can. Arthur’s Castle, you know.”

  The rector smiled.

  “Still the romantic, eh? It was a sorry ruin when I saw it last, and I should imagine it’s worse now. Most of the castle has fallen down the cliff. If I were you I would take the coast road to Crantock — the church there is very fine. Cut out Newquay — it will be swarming now — and make for Padstow; they’ve dug up an ancient chapel at St. Enodoc that’s worth a visit. Cross the Camel at Wadebridge, and follow the moorland road to Tintagel. It’s worth pushing on to Boscastle if you’ve time — there’s a lovely valley, and a curious towerless church near by. Then a bit farther on is High Cliff, the highest point on the whole coast.”

  “Hold hard, Father,” Hamilton laughed. “You’ll have me at Bristol at this rate.”

  “Sorry, Mr. Hamilton. My enthusiasm ran away with me. I love this country — I only wish I could come with you.”

  “So do I, Father. Well, I must be off.”

  “Shall you come back this way?”

  “Yes, I’ll leave my bag at the Three Fishermen, and take a haversack. I’ll come back by rail from Camelford or Otterham and pick it up.”

  “Come and see me, won’t you?”

  “Rather! Thanks so much for everything, Father. Good-bye!”

  “Good-bye, my boy. God speed!”

  They shook hands, and Hamilton made his way back to the inn. He had come prepared for this eventuality, and had packed an empty haversack, so that it was only a matter of transferring such necessities as he would require, and in less than an hour he had made his arrangements with the landlord and set off.

  He had borrowed a sturdy ash-plant, his flask and sandwiches were in his pocket, and in spite of the heat, which was still great — although the sky had clouded over since the early morning — it was infinitely better than London, and he was glad to be free for a while. By evening a fine mist of rain was falling, but Hamilton still strode on, delighting in the coolness it brought. Dusk was falling when he reached Crantock and found a lodging for the night.

  II

  For two days after his friend’s departure Tony was vaguely distressed over his loss, for he could not regard their parting as other than a clean break between his old life and the new, but, having once set his hand to the plough, he was determined not to turn back, and threw himself into his studies with more vigour than ever before. The doctor was highly delighted with his pupil’s progress, and promised him initiation within three weeks. Every day they worked from breakfast until dinner, taking a short as time as possible over meals, and every day Tony felt his grasp of the tremendous subject he had undertaken strengthening. His will-power deepened amazingly, and before long he was able to induce a state of auto-hypnosis, and reach the astral plane unaided. But his mentor did not permit such excursions often, telling him that he must conserve his spiritual energy for the great act of initiation.

  After dinner, and before going to bed, they usually relaxed, and passed the time in conversation, when Vaughan would join them. The latter spent most of his days down in the crypt, and once Tony asked if he might see what he was doing there.

  After a preliminary visit, alone, Gaunt took him down the narrow spiral stair.

  Two of the vapour-lamps from the hall had been taken down, and stood on the altar, casting a brilliant pool of light in the midst of the gloomy place. In the circle of radiance Vaughan was working, crouched upon the stone floor, measuring distances with a surveyor’s tape. As they approached Tony could see the outlines of an immense and elaborate diagram, traced in multi-coloured paints, on the stone floor of the crypt, around the altar. Vaughan stood up, and his grotesque shadow, now gigantic, added to the weirdness of the scene.

  “Come, Sir Anthony,” he said, as Tony hovered uncertainly in the shadows, “you can walk on it without fear, now. It is not yet charged with force.”

  Tony advanced, scanning the ground with deep interest. He was now well versed in the mysteries of diagram and symbolism, but this design was quite new to him. It appeared to consist of a series of concentric circles, radiating from the altar, with a number of pentagonal figures superimposed. Characters, some of which he recognized as Hebrew and Greek, were inscribed at various points.

  “It is beautifully done, Mr. Vaughan,” he said, “but what is it for?”

  Vaughan laughed, well pleased with the praise.

  “For our great work, Sir Anthony, the banishment of the curse monstrosity, and the deliverance of this island and yourself from its bondage. The doctor will explain it all to you in good time.”

  With that Tony had perforce to be content. As he followed the converging lines to the altar he observed that that also had been embellished with coloured symbols, and that the top was sealed down with broad white tapes, the ends of which were attached to the stone with great blobs of red wax.

 
“That is to prevent any interference from the monstrosity while I am at work,” Vaughan explained. “It is probably aware that we are planning its destruction, and it might well endeavour to prevent us.”

  It says much for Gaunt’s tuition that Tony accepted this explanation without surprise, and presently went back to his books, leaving the doctor with Vaughan. When the echo of the young man’s footsteps upon the stairs had died away the latter said:

  “You have done well, Doctor. He questions nothing. Our task should be easy.”

  Gaunt smiled grimly.

  “Don’t be too sure, my friend. It is the initiation I am afraid of. When he finds out the truth he may well become intractable. I am so concerned that I have decided to summon a meeting of the brotherhood, and take him up to London for the ceremony.”

  “But I thought it was to be done here, Doctor. If you can’t initiate him, no one can.”

  “True, Simon. But I think the effect of the mass-suggestion of the brethren is likely to prove most valuable in this case. It will lessen the chances of a relapse. We can go up by road, and thus avoid the distraction of a train journey.”

  “And afterwards?”

  “We shall return here, and continue the work.”

  “He will be agreeable?”

  “He will not know any more than is absolutely necessary, Simon. Once he has assisted at the Mass, and committed the ultimate sacrilege, I shall trap him into making an act of renunciation, and control of the monstrosity will pass to me.”

  “And then?”

  “Then he can go. I shall have no more use for him. I doubt if he will desire to assist the consummation; he will never be a really useful member of our Order; he has not the inclination.”

  “No, I agree with you there, Doctor. I fear he will always lean towards the good. A pity!”

  “As you say, Simon, a pity. I have grown to like him. However, such trifles must not stand in the way of our plan. Once that is in operation, nothing will matter very much anymore.”

  “It terrifies me sometimes, Doctor; it is so vast, so overwhelming.”

  “It is the ultimate triumph, Simon.”

  “I know, but supposing anything were to go wrong?”

  “Nothing can go wrong; trust in me. As soon as I have control over the monstrosity I shall sever the link which binds it to this place and loose it upon the world. Think of it, Simon! That thing is a concentration of pure evil, and sentient at that. It is as different from an ordinary elemental as the sun is from a candle-flame; there is no one power of evil in the world with a tithe of its strength; it is unique. And it has been lying here fermenting, as it were, for more than a thousand years; feeding on the life-stream of the wretched Lovells for the last four hundred. It must have acquired quite a taste for human souls — but I fancy it would welcome a variety. Satan! What will it not do when it is released?” He laughed horribly, and paused for a moment, reveling in the prospect. Then he went on:

  “But quite apart from that aspect of its release, Simon, it will upset the balance of power in this world, which, as you know, has been slightly in favour of the good for some two thousand years. We shall immediately and irrevocably gain the ascendancy for which we have been struggling for so long, and mankind will be delivered into our hands. What then? First the moral downfall — that should please you, Simon — all codes will become meaningless, and pleasure the only goal. Next, I suppose that civilization will collapse — it is but a frail edifice even now — and anarchy and barbarism will return to power. Ultimately mankind will sink to the level of the beasts; lower, even, for man will still retain his gift, or curse, as it will be in those days, of self-knowledge and free-will; and, knowing all the while what he is doing, he will plunge ever deeper into the pit.”

  Vaughan, who had seated himself on one of the trunks near by and lit a cheroot, asked:

  “And what will the end be, Doctor?”

  Gaunt walked lightly up the altar steps, turned, and stood with his back to the stone. The lamps on either side threw strange shadows on his pale face, and made the white streaks in his hair seem like little tongues of fire.

  “That even I cannot tell you, Simon,” he said. “It may be that in the pit mankind may find our Lord, and that he may lift them up again, and make of this earth such a home of intelligent evil as will be a menace to the Universe. It may be that out of this thing we do will spring the beginning of the end of Light itself. How long have you been with us, Simon?”

  “Forty years, Doctor.”

  “Before that you were a priest — one of them?”

  Vaughan’s face hardened, and his thick lips twisted.

  “Yes. They cast me out. I swore to repay them a thousandfold for the humiliation I endured.” His tone was bitter as death.

  “What have you achieved since you joined our ranks?” Gaunt went on. “You have said the Black Mass many times, profaning your old faith. That soothed your wounded pride, no doubt. But have we really advanced at all these forty years?”

  “A little, Doctor, surely. We have won many souls from them. What of the Great War? And then Spain, and China, and the continual threat of another world conflict. All our doing; Darkness is spreading slowly.”

  “Slowly, yes. Too slowly! They are at work as well; their inmost fortresses have not fallen. There are still some six hundred million souls who acknowledge Christ as Lord, and countless more who turn unknowingly towards the Light. The brethren of the right-hand path go forward also, Simon. There is more goodwill on earth today than there ever was. But here at last is our greatest opportunity since Calvary. We must not fail! At one stroke the battle can be won. Do you realize, Simon, that, quite apart from simply loosing this monstrosity upon the world, I could, if I desired, reopen the breach in the Veil and let the Darkness in?”

  “Doctor!” Vaughan sprang erect, his face chalk-white. “You would not do that! It would mean — the end.”

  “Exactly. The end of all life as we know it. The end of Light, and the beginning of eternal Darkness.”

  “Chaos once again!” Vaughan’s lips shook so that he could scarcely frame the words. “But, Doctor, what of us? We too should perish — we should never enjoy the fruits of our labour. Are we not worthy of our reward? Be content to liberate this horror; it will wreak desolation enough; it will quench all the will to good there ever was, and we shall se the victory.”

  “Oh, Simon, Simon! Must you always think of your wretched self? Can you not sink your ego for the Cause? I must admit I would rather carry out our original plan; I shall do so if all goes well. But, Simon, I fear Intervention.”

  “There has been no direct Intervention for more than nineteen hundred years. Why should you fear it now?”

  “Because the release of this monstrosity, and the victory of Darkness in this world, may have repercussions throughout the whole Universe. It might even be the beginning of the end. And so I feel that we may be prevented; I am practically certain we are being watched already; and the Powers who govern the rotation of the Eighth Sphere may take it upon themselves to move against us.”

  “Master, I beg of you — “ Vaughan’s voice trembled with terror.

  “Silence!” Gaunt sprang down the altar steps and stood towering over the other, his face, contorted with sudden fury, truly fiendish in the half-light.

  “I have warned you before, Simon; obstruct my path again and I will cast you into the Abyss without hesitation. My mind is made up: I shall proceed with our original plans for the release of the monstrosity, but at the least sign of outside interference I shall rend the Veil.”

  Vaughan cowered.

  “Very well, master. I will not attempt to dissuade you further, but if aught goes amiss, remember that I warned you.”

  “I will remember — everything. Proceed with the diagram, and let us have no more words.”

  The doctor stalked away and went up the spiral stair, while his colleague bent once more to his arduous task, albeit with many a sigh, and some shaking of the hea
d.

  Chapter XI

  One morning, less than a fortnight after his visit to the crypt, Tony was overjoyed by Gaunt’s announcement that he was now ready for initiation, and that accordingly they would proceed to London on the morrow.

  During the remainder of that day the doctor carefully coached his willing pupil in the actual ceremony — at least, in such portions of it in which he would be required to play an active part; teaching him the formal responses to the questions he would be asked, and impressing him with the solemnity of the vows which he would take. Certain phases of the ritual, he told him, were absolutely secret, and must not be divulged beforehand.

  The hours flew by, but after he was in bed that night Tony lay awake for a long time, staring into the darkness, far too excited by the prospect of his approaching ordeal to sleep at once.

  At last it was at hand, he thought, the long-awaited fulfilment of his dreams; the greatest moment of his life so far; this first decisive step along his chosen path. Feeling himself to be upon the threshold of a new life, he looked back for a moment at the way he had come, and was aghast. Until his father’s death he had been a selfish young hedonist, spending his days in folly and the ceaseless search for pleasure. During those years in London he had been the ringleader of a group of “bright young things”, whose watchword had been distraction, anything for a fresh thrill. He had had dozens of love-affairs of no importance, hundreds of friendships of no account. The only hours that seemed in retrospect to have been at all worth while were those he had spent with John Hamilton. Why the older man should have troubled with him at all had always been something of a mystery, after their first casual acquaintanceship — the result of a chance recognition of their common Varsity colours. Tony supposed that Hamilton must have sensed the desperate loneliness which he had generally managed to conceal beneath a mask of gaiety.