by Dion Fortune
CHAPTER XI
THEY must have got me to bed, for I woke up there next morning, whacked to the wide, of course, but at peace. The attack having blown itself out quickly, my heart had stood up to it better than usual, and there were none of the after- effects of the various drugs to be reckoned with. Miss Morgan had put me into her own room; I don't know where she slept, it being the only one that was ready. It was at the cast end of the fort, and got the morning sun through a great window. I woke up at dawn and saw a glorious pathway of pale gold leading along the wave-tops. There was something unearthly about the complete emptiness that one looked out on to through that window in the pale light of dawn. I could see no land from my bed, but only the glittering waves with the shadows still in their hollows, for the light was low. And in that hour, freshly wakened from sleep, I saw things differently from what I had ever seen them before. I saw them, not as short chains of cause and effect, whose connections one could not see beyond a few moves, which is what life usually looks like, but as large tracts of influence into which one could enter or which one could avoid, and it was the bias of one's own nature which determined entry or absence. It was rather romantic, to wake up at dawn like that in Miss Morgan's own room and take a look round. She had got it all fixed up in a curious shade of blucy-grcy-green with a sheen on it that gave the effect of translucent sea-water. The head of the bed was carved to represent a wave curling over ready to break; it was painted a dull silver, picked out with iridescent blue-green, and in the half-light of dawn it gave a very curious and a very realistic effect. All the gear on the dressing-table was of dull beaten silver and shagreen, and there were a number of odd-shaped bottles of bluish crackle-glass with which, I suppose, Miss Morgan cared (or her lovely skin. It looked rather like a medieval alchemist's laboratory, only needing an astrolabe and an athanor and a retort or two to complete the picture. The thing that particularly fascinated me was the big scent-spray with its bulb concealed in a huge silk tassel. I am very sensitive to perfumes, and I was determined that the moment I could crawl out of bed I was going to investigate that scent-spray and find out what manner of scent Miss Morgan was given to, for one can learn an awful lot about a person from the scent they use. If my conscience would permit me, and I thought it would, I also meant to snitch a drop or two of that scent as a keepsake, for as I have said, scents mean a great deal to me. Miss Morgan had also gone in for silk sheets on her bed, and very large swansdown pillows. Who wouldn't be a house-agent in such circumstances? All the same, I was under no delusion that everything in the garden was lovely. Sweet as Miss Morgan might be to me, I knew with perfect clarity of inner instinct that the cult of which she was priestess, the cold sea-cult of the primordial deeps, required living sacrifices. I remembered what I had read of the terrible Aztec faith, and how some unfortunate slave was picked out from the people, and kept for a year in the lap of luxury, and then sacrificed on their bloody altar by having his heart cut out still living. That, thought I to myself, leaning back on the down pillows of Miss Morgan's silken bed and watching the dawn-light grow--is the part for which I am cast if I don't watch out. And I asked myself if the life of the body were of such great worth that one would refuse even the most marvellous experience in order to preserve it? The answer to that question is that it depends on the body. With a body like mine, the answer is in the negative. The realisation of the lie of the land solved several problems that had been puzzling me a good deal. I could quite understand Miss Morgan trying to get hold of me and infatuate me if she were a fraud, and needed my co-operation, or at least my quiescence, in order to carry out her nefarious schemes; but if she were what she claimed to be--a woman rejuvenated by strange knowledge--I couldn't see why she was bothering with me, for God knows I am no sheik. She herself was a woman who would have been the centre of attention in any assembly, not merely for her beauty, which was very remarkable, but by the extraordinary magnetism of her, and her personality. Moreover she was a highly bred and highly cultured woman. Why then was she bothering with the product of an academy for the sons of gents? If, however I were designed for the role of sacrificed Aztcc slave, the whole situation was understandable. Of course she would be charming to me. Of course she would take me up and make a fuss of me. It was clear as mud. Twice I had only escaped death on this blasted rock by the skin of my teeth. If what she said were true, as in my bones I felt it was, the dog was going to have his day, and then it was him for Battersea. According to the ancient tradition, they always hacked out the heart with a golden knife. I wondered how in the world they got the gold to take any sort of an edge, and how they got through the ribs with it if it didn't. It was an odd feeling, to lie there, looking death in the face quite placidly and comfortably. Life did not hold much for me, but all the same I knew that when it came to the point, I should cling to it tenaciously. After all, that was what I did in every bout of asthma, at least, that was what it felt like, for one seemed literally to be fighting for one's life. I knew from my experience with this last, unmedicatcd bout, which was the first I had ever been through entirely without dope, that as one lapses into unconsciousness, the spasm eases up. I suppose that is why they sometimes give me a whiff of chloroform. The explanation of my placidity probably lay in the fact that in my heart I never really believed that Miss Morgan was what she said she was; that at bottom I was playing with the idea because that was the way my private inclinations went. Anyway, I made up my mind to take a chance on it. Everything that held any interest for me was bound up with Miss Morgan; the only alternative being to go home, and have asthma, and scrap with my sister, and sell dud houses to dud people. I dropped off to sleep again after having taken that decision, and when I awoke next, Mrs Trethowen was in the room with a breakfast-tray. It is an odd thing, but asthma never spoils my appetite. I should get a lot more sympathy if it did, for my people can never understand that there is anything much the matter with a person who is not off his feed. Miss Morgan came and talked to me while I fed. As usual, I had not got much to say for myself. Moreover I was as hoarse as a crow, and hadn't shaved, and knew I must have a pair of blood-shot eyes like an elderly bulldog--I always do after these bouts--and it seemed to me that I must appear so unattractive that I was in danger of losing my job as sacrificed slave. Presently she gave up trying to talk to me and got a book and sat and read, and I turned over and went to sleep again. Asthma is hard work. I She had sent Trethowen off with a telegram to tell my people where I was, and I knew they wouldn't worry; so I ; accepted her invitation to stop on over the week-end. I was incapable of putting one foot before another at the moment, and doubted if I would be able to drive a car with discretion for another twenty-four hours. It was very pleasant up there in the sunny room, listening to the sound of the sea, and with Miss Morgan sitting there quietly reading, paying no attention to me, but nevertheless, very companionable. I liked having her there. On these occasions I seem to get the feeling of people's innermost souls and know exactly what they are thinking about, and how they feel towards me. I used to be perfectly aware of faithful old Scottie's profound good will; he is really very fond of me, I think, though I irritate him almost past bearing sometimes. I used to know perfectly well that my sister was fed to the teeth with me, although she did her best to hide it, at any rate when I was ill. I knew my mother was just sunk inside herself and didn't notice anything, and that she wouldn't have minded leaving the house a scrap, and my sister had engineered the whole job because she didn't want to have to shift her Friendly girls or occupy a house in a less commanding situation. As long as I was a leading business man in the town she had something of a position, but if I had cleared out and left her to it, she wouldn't have been anybody, and everyone she had ever offended, and their name was legion, would have had the opportunity to get back at her. So she had quietly torpedoed my one chance and now it was too late to do anything about it. I am afraid I have never wasted much sweetness on her from that day to this. She kept me with her all right, but I doubt if she found me pleasan
t company. The feeling I got in regard to Miss Morgan as I lay dozing was of a curious steadiness. I cannot describe it any other way. She seemed to me to have the nerve of an operating surgeon. Everything was quiet at the moment, I knew that; but I was in the position of a patient whose strength is being built up for an operation. Presently Miss Morgan would show her handJ unless, that was, I hopped it first. But I knew I wasn't goim? to hop it. I was going to have the time of my life rill my yearran out, and if it was then to be the sacrificial altar, well, so be it. I wondered what form the sacrifice would take. I could not see Miss Morgan chipping away with a golden knife rill she got to my vitals. I expected that I should be invited to take a walk one moonlight night to the end of the reef, and then a long wave would come and lick me off and she would stand and watch me go. It is a curious thing that this know-; ledge, far from depressing me, gave me a curious sense of exhilaration and power. I felt that, with this bit of information | up my sleeve, I could meet Miss Morgan almost on the level.' Morituri te salutamus. So after I had had my sleep out I perked up and waxed I chatty. I could always amuse the barristers when I warmed | up and got going, so why not her? I told her tales of the ; house-agent's trade--which has even less conscience to it than i horse-coping--rill she giggled; and then I told her scandalous. yarns about the local notables rill she guffawed. My rendering of the local scandals is always in great demand at the club,' but I expect it will end by getting me shot from behind a hedge; I have been promised hidings on various occasions, but so far none of them have come off. It always gives me great joy to gather round me the husbands of my sister's friends and make them see the funny side of the things that their womenfolk arc taking deadly seriously. The vicar says I am a very bad influence in the town, undermining everybody's sense of right and wrong, for he docs not find it easy to work up a persecution of a wrong-doer after we have all had a good laugh at his wrong-doing. Miss Morgan, having no more social conscience than myself, thoroughly appreciated these stories. Anyway, we waxed quite merry, and I forgot I had ever had any troubles and felt so much better that I borrowed a dressing-gown from her--I was already decked out in Trethowcn's pyjamas that his wife had made for him--and got up and wandered about the room to get the stiffness out of myself, as my custom is after an attack. Miss Morgan was a tall woman, and I am barely middle height and lightly built, so it was quite a satisfactory fit, which was more than could be said for Trethowen's pijjies. When Mrs Treth came in and saw me with apricot-coloured swansdown fluffles swathed round my unshaven chin, she blinked. There is one thing to be said in favour of being an ash-blond male--you have got to get him in a good light to see whether he has shaved or not. So we gossiped, and time went by. We couldn't see the sunset from this room, but we watched its pink reflection gather on the clouds, and presently the moon rose, full and round, and for the second time that day I saw a path of light spread over the waves. Now as I have said before, I was on rather intimate terms with the moon, and when I saw my old friend appear, I forgot my new one and fell silent and stared at her; and, as always when I communed with the moon, I became aware of the invisible side of nature. I knew there was a very intense kind of life in the sea, and that out here at the fort we were very closely in touch with it; for the sea so nearly surrounded us that we only just missed being an island, and the rock rose so slightly from the water that it was a sea-rock rather than a land rock, and in times of storm the over-carried spray swept clean across from bay to bay, running down the windward windows like rain, and great fucus was tossed down in the forecourt among my queer carved sea-beasts. All the room was of a translucent, shimmering greyish-green, like sea-water in sunlight; even the dress Miss Morgan was wearing was sca-grccn, and round her neck was a string of star sapphires that caught the light strangely. It was a queer drc medieval, of shining satin, no trimmings, and moulded close) her figure, and she had a lovely figure. The neck was cut lo' and square in front, and pretty nearly to her waist at the bad but the sleeves were long, and tight to the arm, and ended in, points like a fish's mouth that came down to her knuckles. She; had not got her scarlet whore's claws to-night, but instead her nails were lacquered a pearly-white, iridescent, the effect very queer and inhuman. Suddenly my meditations were interrupted. "Wilfred, what do you know about the moon?" I was so taken aback at being called by my Christian name J that I nearly started another attack of asthma on the spot--I did j really. In Dickford ladies even refer to their husbands as Mr '; So-and-so. Miss Morgan saw my confusion, but she only smiled. ; "If you think I am going to call any man 'mister' while he is ' wearing my negligee, you are very much mistaken. Tell me, Wilfred, what do you know about the moon?" So I told her. I told her how I had got in touch with the moon when I was lying knocked out after my first go of asthma, and how I could feel her tides and knew just what the moonpowers were doing; whether they were waxing or waning; whether they were strong and in power, or ebbed far away like a receding sea on a level beach. And I told her that I believed the moon-tides influenced all sorts of things in a way we did not realise, and that although I did not yet understand this part, I believed that some day I should; for I should get enlightenment as I lay with the life gone out of me after a go of asthma. She nodded. "Yes," she said. "It comes then. You get with asthma what I get with my crystal." ("Gosh!" I thought to myself, "I wish she'd swop!") I told her, however, that I was afraid it was the drugs that did it. But she shook her head. "You had no drugs last night," she said, "but you are in a strange mood this evening, quite unlike your usual self." "You don't know anything about my usual self," said I. "This is me when I am normal, not how I am when I'm tied into knots." "What ties you into knots?" said she. "Trying to do my duty in the sphere where God has placed me," said I. "And I would greatly like to know why the Allwise so perseveringly knocks square pegs into round holes?" Then I told her my idea that whereas the gods are always reputed to make mortals pay up for any great benefit bestowed, I, by virtue of my asthma, seemed to be running a kind of credit account with them. She agreed. And then she said: "You arc a very odd person; I never knew a man who could maintain such an animated silence." For a moment I could not think what she meant, and then I realised that although I never have much to say for myself, I am doing some pretty lively thinking all the time. My silence is neither slow-wittedness, nor reserve, but the ingrained caution that comes from always living with people who disagree with you. I had learnt from bitter experience that the less everybody knew of my real thoughts and feelings, the better for me. I told her something of this. "But you feel you can talk to me, don't you?" she said. I told her yes, that I had always wanted to talk to her, but that my conversation was so stiff in the joints from never being used that I couldn't get it to start, any more than the car would the previous evening; but as she could see for herself, I ran all right once I was warmed up. She smiled. "In future," she said, "I shall keep my foot on the starter until I hear sounds that show you arc beginning) spark." I wished her joy of the job. "You can be very amusing when you choose," she said. "I is a pity you do not choose oftener, and keep your hand in." I certainly enjoyed amusing Miss Morgan, and I think sh enjoyed being amused by me, but it was not for this that I wa being cultivated, unless I were very much mistaken. And then] came the word, spoken perhaps idly or perhaps with intent-- one never quite knew with her--that told me why I had been picked for the part of sacrificed slave, which with every hour that passed I felt more certain was my lot. "Although you look a sick man, and I suppose you are a sick man, you are one of the most vital persons I have ever met." I told her that whatever I felt like to her, I didn't feel like that to myself. "And the curious thing is, that the more depleted you an the more vital you become. You give off an extraordinar amount of a very queer kind of magnetism, Wilfred. I cxpc< that is your trouble. You probably leak magnetism." Now this was true, for in an odd way I always did feel vcryj much alive as I lay absolutely flaccid after a bout. My mind would be extraordinarily alert and lucid, even when I could hardly hold a cup to my lips. It was a
t these times, in fact that I had that abnormal lucidity that had enabled me to set behind the moon. Miss Morgan suddenly leant forward and fixed me with hcf big dark eyes. "You are like that now, aren't you?" she said. | "To a certain extent, yes. Not as much as I am sometimes^ because I haven't had as bad a bout as I sometimes do, but--' yes, I suppose to a certain extent I am lucid at the present moment." "Then tell me what you know about myself--whar}you imagine, anything--so long as you tell me." par "Gosh, I don't know anything." "Yes, you do. Go on, tell me. I'll sort it out afterwards." I looked at her as she sat in a great high-backed, carved chair in that sea-blue room, lit only by the moonlight. The star sapphires round her neck caught the light in the strange way they have, and made a line of phosphorescent fire where neck joins breast. Her heavy black hair was wound round her head in swathes; her brow very white, and her eyes under it very dark. Yes, she was the sca-pricstcss whom I had seen gliding towards me out of the mist and the dusk in the high-prowcd ship. And looking at her as she leant towards me with her dark eyes fixed on me with an unremitting intensity, I seemed to slip out from this bourne of time and space on a smooth tide of dark water. "Our land is being drowned because the sea is too strong for us," I said. "Our dykes cannot stand against it; and it is com ing in and taking our land field by field. There is a malice in the water that we cannot cope with, and we have sent for a priestess, one with wisdom. There is our own arch-priest, who rules the sacred college here on the headland, but he says it is too strong for him; the moon-powers have got out of hand and there is malice in the waters. We must send for a priestess of the sea-peoples from the land beyond the sunset, the lost and drowned land of which so little now remains, just one or two mountain peaks to the south----" "The Azores?" said she. "Yes," said I, "the Azores, rising up from great depth, all that is left of that drowned land. And they sent us their last priestess, a sca-prkstess, who was also a priestess oLthe-moon^ as she had need to be." "Why had she need to be?" "I do not know that yet. But we shall know presently." "And what did the sea-priestess do when she came?" "She sacrificed." "What did she sacrifice?" "Men." "Where?" "In the cave under Bell Knowle." "How did she sacrifice them?" "They were bound alive to the altar-stone, and the tide came and took them. She sacrificed till the sea was satisfied." "Is that all?" "It is all I know now. Maybe there is more. I do not know. I cannot think of it. Perhaps it will come later. I think, maybe, there is more to come. I have always thought there is more to come." Then I came back as one comes to the surface after a very deep dive, and found Miss Morgan staring into my eyes as if she would burn holes in the very brain inside my skull. ("Well," I said to myself, "you say I am a sick man, but I guess I'll be a dashed sight sicker man by the time you've done with me if you do this sort of thing to me often!")