An Instance of the Fingerpost

by Iain Pears

  ‘Times are hard indeed,’ I said dryly. ‘But what about my chart?’

  ‘It disturbs me greatly,’ he said, peering at me as though I was newly introduced to him, ‘and I scarcely know how to advise you. It seems you were born for a great purpose.’

  Perhaps this is the currency of all soothsayers, I do not know, but I felt that he was saying the truth, and I felt that it was so; what greater purpose was there, after all, than the one I had taken on myself? Greatorex’s confirmation of it bolstered my strength greatly.

  ‘You were born on the day the Battle of Edgehill was fought,’ he continued, ‘a strange and frightening day; the skies were in disarray, and portents abounded.’

  I did not point out that you hardly needed to be an adept to see that.

  ‘And you were born not greatly distant from the battle,’ he continued, ‘which means your chart was affected by the events which went on around. You know, of course, that the chart of the querent intersects with that of the country in which he is born?’

  I nodded.

  ‘So, you were born a Scorpio, with your ascendant in Libra. Now, as far as the question you pose is concerned, you asked it at exactly two o’clock, and it was for that time that I prepared the horoscope. The best sign of witchcraft is if the lord of the twelfth house be in the sixth, or if one planet be lord of the ascendant and the twelfth, which may happen when the proper ascendant may be intercepted, then it may be witchcraft. If the converse applies, however, and the lord of the ascendant be in the twelfth or sixth, then it shows that the querent occasioned his problems by his own wilfulness.’

  I sighed heavily, beginning to regret having placed myself in the hands of a canting magician. Evidently Greatorex perceived my disdain.

  ‘Do not dismiss this, sir,’ he said. ‘You think this is magic, yet it is not. It is the purest of science, the only way man has to penetrate the secrets of the soul and of time itself. Everything is performed through the finest of calculations, and if it is the case that the lowest is joined to the highest, as all Christians must believe, then it is obvious that the study of the one must reveal the truth of the other. Did not the Lord say, “Let there be lights in the firmament of heaven to divide the day from the night; and let them be for signs”? (Genesis 1:14) That is all astrology is; reading the signs that God in His Providence has given us to guide our way if we will only take notice of them. Simple in theory, though hard in practice.’

  ‘I do not for a moment doubt the truth of it,’ I said. ‘But the details weary me. It is the answers that give me greatest concern. Am I bewitched or not?’

  ‘You must let me answer in full, for a partial answer is no response at all. It is the conjunction of your birth chart with the transitional chart which is of the greatest concern to me; for they are strangely at odds. Indeed, I have never seen the like before.’

  ‘So?’

  ‘The transitional chart indicates clearly that some form of enchantment is present, for Venus, which rules your twelfth house, is most firmly in the sixth.’

  ‘So the answer is yes.’

  ‘Please; be patient. Your birth chart also places the ascendant in the twelfth, which indicates that you are inclined to be the author of your own misfortunes. The opposition of Jupiter and Venus makes you prone to magnify your problems without justification, and the conjunction of the moon in the ninth house and in Pisces means you are liable to fantastical notions that lead you into rash acts.

  ‘Which indicates the need for caution in this matter, and the most cautious move you can make is to acknowledge your fault. For you are at fault, and her anger has the force of justice behind it, whatever she might be. The easiest solution is not to fight it, but to ask forgiveness.’

  ‘And if she refuses?’

  ‘She will not if your contrition is genuine. I will make it the more plain. The indicator of the enchantment is in exact opposition to the conjunction of your troubles caused by Mars in the second house.’

  ‘And what does that mean?’

  ‘That means the two aspects of your life are one and the same. Your fear of bewitchment and what you tell me of your other troubles are intimately connected, so much so that the one is the other.’

  I stared at him in astonishment, for he had said the same of my chart as Thomas had said of my dream. ‘But how can that possibly be? She never knew my father, nor could she possibly have known him. Surely her power is not such that she can intervene in affairs of that importance.’

  He shook his head. ‘I state the situation, I cannot offer an explanation. But I do urge you to take my advice. This girl – this witch as you call her – is more powerful than any I have ever encountered.’

  ‘More than you.’

  ‘Far more than me,’ he said solemnly. ‘And I am not ashamed to admit it. I would no more go against her than I would jump off the tallest cliff. And nor should you, for any victories will be illusory, and defeat will be total. Any counter-magic I can offer is unlikely to be of use, even if it has a temporary effect.’

  ‘Give it me anyway, so I know what to do.’

  He thought for a moment, as if doubting my sudden enthusiasm. ‘Do you give me your solemn word that you will take my advice and approach the girl first?’

  ‘Of course, whatever you say,’ I said hastily. ‘What is the spell? Give it to me.’

  ‘You have to do it yourself.’ He handed me a phial containing the hair and the blood he had so violently taken from me. ‘This is silver, which is the moon’s metal. It contains a simulacrum of what she has of you. You must either get your own back from her and destroy it, to remove the object of her spells, or failing that, you must take this phial and fill it with her urine or her blood. Bury it when the moon is waning; as long as it is undiscovered, she will have no power over you.’

  I took the phial and put it carefully in my bag. ‘Thank you, sir. I am grateful. Now, what do I owe?’

  ‘I am not finished. There is a matter far more grave.’

  ‘I think I have heard enough, thank you. I have my potion, and want no more of you.’

  ‘Listen, my friend, you are rash and foolish, and you do not listen well to those wiser than yourself. Please do so now, as a great deal is at stake.’

  ‘Oh, very well. Tell me.’

  ‘I repeat again, that the girl who is the focus of your attention is no ordinary witch, if she is one at all. You asked earlier whether I was afraid to contest witches, and the answer is no; generally speaking, I am not. But in this case I am indeed very frightened. Do not engage with this creature, I beg you. And there is one other thing as well.’

  ‘And what is that?’

  ‘Others might take your fortune and livelihood, even your life. But your greatest enemy is yourself, for only you have the power to destroy your own soul. Tread carefully. Some people are fated from the moment of their birth, but I hold that nothing is absolutely preordained, and we can choose a different path if we will. I tell you what may be, not what must be.’

  ‘Now you are talking nonsense, to frighten me and get more money.’

  ‘Listen to me,’ he said, leaning forward and staring at me intently, using all his powers to bend me to his will. ‘The conjunction of your birth is strange and frightening, and you should beware. I have seen it only once before. I do not wish to see it again.’

  ‘And that was?’

  ‘In a book I was allowed to see only once. It belonged to Placidus de Tito, and he had it by descent from Julius Maternus himself, the greatest magus of them all, perhaps. In it, there were many horoscopes, drawn from many periods. It had the birth charts of Augustus and Constantine, of Augustine and many, many popes. There were soldiers and churchmen and politicians and doctors and saints. But only one did I see which was like yours and you must take warning from it, if you can and if you will. I tell you again that if you do not heed my warnings, then far more than your life is at risk.’

  ‘And whose horoscope was it?’

  He looked at me gr
avely, as though afraid to speak. ‘It belonged to Iscariot,’ he said softly.

  I am quite prepared to admit that I left that man shaken to the depths of my soul, terrified at what he told me and perfectly under his spell. I will even say that it took some considerable time before I recovered my balance, and was able to dismiss most of what he said as a tissue of nonsensical babblings. I give him full credit for his skill, for he had mixed a little knowledge with a great deal of impudence to forge a weapon of great power, able to command him large sums of money from the credulous. After a while, I was even able to laugh at the way he had imposed himself upon me, for I had quite believed him; he had sensed my fear and concern, and had exploited my worries to enrich himself.

  How he did this, how all these people act, is clear after a little thought; his questioning taught him all he needed to know, and he then wrapped up in his magical words what I had already said, mixing it in with the sort of common advice my mother might well have given me. Add all this to obscure references to occult texts, and you have the perfect fraud – it is easy to succumb, and requires great effort of character to resist.

  But resist I did, although I considered that there were a few nuggets among the dross I had received. To begin with, the very idea of begging that girl’s pardon disgusted me, but wiser counsels prevailed as I lurched my way back to Oxford. What was my purpose, after all, but to remove the stain on my family and recover what was mine? If this girl was in some way bound up in that, then the sooner her malign influence was removed the better. I had, in fact, little faith in the man’s magic; he had told me little that was remarkable, and much which was clearly wrong. I might have to resort to his spells, but I had little confidence in them and decided that, painful though it might be, an approach to the girl was the most likely, and the most direct, way of removing the problem.

  None the less, I decided first to discuss my investigations with Thomas and went to see him immediately on my return to see how his campaign was faring. I did not get around to my own problems for some time, so deep was he in misery. I learned then that my stratagem for helping him had not been as effective as I had desired, for Dr Grove had dismissed Sarah Blundy when the rumours about his morals began to spread, and his action was seen as a sign of resolute sacrifice rather than an admission of guilt.

  ‘Already they are saying that he is likely to get the living,’ Thomas said gloomily. ‘Of the thirteen senior Fellows, five have already offered their support to him, and some of those I counted on do not look me in the eye any more. Jack, how could this have happened? You know what he is like, more than most people. I asked the warden for reassurance only this morning, but he was stiff and unfriendly to me.’

  ‘It is the changing times,’ I said. ‘Remember, many of Grove’s old friends are in positions of influence close to the government. Even Warden Woodward must beware of displeasing the powerful at such a time. He was put in by Parliament and must give regular signs of conformity himself, lest he be put out again by the king.

  ‘But don’t despair,’ I said heartily, for his long face and heavy sighs were beginning to grate upon me, ‘the battle is not yet lost. You have a few weeks yet. You must keep cheerful, as there is nothing people like less than seeing reproach in a face at every meal. It will harden their hearts against you even more.’

  Another heavy sigh greeted these words of wisdom. ‘You are right, of course,’ he said. ‘I will do my best to look as though poverty was nothing to me, and seeing the lesser man win gave me the greatest of pleasure.’

  ‘Exactly. Just what you must do.’

  ‘So distract me,’ he said. ‘Tell me your progress. I trust you paid my respects to your mother?’

  ‘I did indeed,’ I replied, even though I had forgotten, ‘and although I was not best pleased to see her, I learned much of interest from the trip. I have discovered, for example, that my own guardian, Sir William Compton, was persuaded to connive with my uncle to defraud me.’

  I said it with as much levity as I could manage, although bitterness gripped my heart as I explained the situation to him. Typically, he chose to search for a kindly explanation.

  ‘Perhaps he thought it for the best? If, as you say, the estate was indebted, there was a risk you would be thrown into a debtors’ prison the moment you reached your majority, then it was surely a kindness on his part.’

  I shook my head vehemently. ‘There is more to it, I know that,’ I said. ‘Why was he was so willing to believe that my father, his best friend, was guilty of such a crime? What had he been told? Who had told him?’

  ‘Perhaps you should ask him.’

  ‘I intend to do just that, when I am ready. But first I have some other matters to attend to.’

  I found Sarah Blundy late that evening after a long wait; I had thought of going to her abode, but decided that I could not face mother and daughter together, and so stood at the end of the alley for upwards of an hour before she emerged.

  I do not mind admitting that my heart was beating fast as I approached, and that the wait had put me in a foul temper. ‘Miss Blundy,’ I said as I walked up behind her.

  She spun round quickly and took a few steps backwards, her eyes instantly blazing with the most vicious hatred. ‘Keep away from me,’ she spat, her mouth curled up in an ugly snarl.

  ‘I must talk with you.’

  ‘I have nothing to say to you, nor you to me. Now leave me in peace.’

  ‘I cannot. I must talk to you. Please, I beg you, hear me out.’

  She shook her head and made to turn away and continue her journey. Much as I hated to do so, I ran round in front of her to block her path, and assumed the most supplicatory of expressions.

  ‘Miss Blundy, I beseech you. Listen to me.’

  Perhaps my expression was more convincing than I thought, for she stopped and, assuming a look of defiance – mingled, I was glad to see, with some fear – waited.

  ‘Well? I am listening. Speak, then leave me in peace.’

  I took a deep breath before I could bring myself to utter the words. ‘I have come to beg your pardon.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘I have come to beg your pardon,’ I repeated. ‘I apologise.’

  Still she said nothing.

  ‘Do you accept my apology?’

  ‘Should I do so?’

  ‘You must. I insist upon it.’

  ‘And if I refuse?’

  ‘You will not refuse. You cannot refuse.’

  ‘I can easily do so.’

  ‘Why?’ I cried. ‘How dare you talk to me in this way? I have come here as a gentleman, though I had no need to do so, and abased myself to acknowledge my fault, and yet you dare to refuse me?’

  ‘You may have been born a gentleman; that is your misfortune. But your actions are those of one far lower than any man I have ever known. You violated me, although I gave you no cause to do so. You then spread foul and malicious rumours about me, so I am dismissed from my place, and jeered at in the streets and called whore. You have taken my good name, and all you offer in return is your apology, said with no meaning and less sincerity. If you felt it in your soul, I could accept easily, but you do not.’

  ‘How do you know?’

  ‘I see your soul,’ she said, her voice suddenly dropping to a whisper which chilled my blood. ‘I know what it is and what is its shape. I can feel it hiss in the night and taste its coldness in the day. I hear it burning, and I touch its hate.’

  Did I, or anyone else, need a franker confession? The calm way she confessed to her power frightened me mightily, and I did my best to summon the contrition she wanted. But she was right on one score: I felt little; her devils made her see true.

  ‘You are making me suffer,’ I said in desperation. ‘It must stop.’

  ‘Whatever you suffer is less than you deserve until you have a change of heart.’

  She smiled, and my breath caught in my throat as I saw the look on her face, for it confirmed everything I had feared. It was the cl
earest admission of guilt that any court of law ever heard, and I was only sorry that there was no one else around to witness that moment. The girl saw that I had understood, for she pitched up her face and let out a peal of laughter.

  ‘Leave me be, Jack Prestcott, lest worse befall you. You cannot undo what has been done; it is too late for that, but the Good Lord punishes those who transgress and will not repent.’

  ‘You dare speak of the Lord? How can you even utter His name?’ I shouted in horror at the blasphemy. ‘What are you to do with Him? Talk of your own master, you fornicating witch.’

  Straight away, her eyes flashed with the darkest anger, and she stepped forward and struck me on the face, grabbing my wrist and pulling my face to her own. ‘Never,’ she hissed in dark voice which seemed more like that of a familiar than her own, ‘never talk to me like that again.’

  Then she pushed me away, her breast heaving with emotion, while I too was winded by the shock of the assault. Then, lifting her finger at me in a warning, she walked off, leaving me trembling in the middle of the empty street.

  Less than an hour later, I was seized by a violent griping of the guts which left me curled up on the floor, vomiting out my stomach so violently I could not even cry out in pain. She had renewed her attack.

  I could not talk to Thomas about this matter; he could not give me any help at all. I doubt that he even believed in spirits; certainly he was of the opinion that the only proper response was prayer. But I knew that this would be insufficient; I needed a powerful counter-magic fast and there was no means of getting it. What was I to do, run after Blundy and ask her if she wouldn’t mind pissing in the bottle Greatorex had given me? Unlikely to be successful; nor did I feel like breaking into her cottage and ransacking it for the charm the Irishman said she must be using against me.