by Dion Fortune
He halted, completely taken aback. He adored Mona, but it had never occurred to him before to consider her beautiful. She was dressed in a full-skirted, tight-bodiced robe of heavy brocade. The ground colour was fawn, faintly dusted with gold by an occasional gold thread in the warp, and peacocks and passion flowers interlaced all over it in a dazzle of green and blue. The neck of the tight-fitting bodice was cut square and low, and behind Mona’s smooth dark head rose a high collar of gold.
Hugh came towards her. ‘What are you doing in here?’ he demanded, to cover his emotion, for the sight of her in her cinquecento robes affected him beyond all reason. She was a woman of Ambrosius’ age!
‘I am trying on my frocks against their proper background,’ said Mona with dignity, but as red as a paeony. ‘I had not expected you back so soon.’
‘So you’ve chosen the Renaissance for your period?’ said Hugh slowly. ‘Now why that, and not Greek draperies?’
‘Because I am Renaissance,’ snapped Mona, tossing her head.
He looked at her without speaking. ‘Yes,’ he said at length ‘I think you are.’
Thrown in a heap on a broad divan were a pile of garments; there was a rust-red robe with a bold gold pattern of dragons upon it; there was a deep, intense blue, patterned in silver like a moonlight night; these were heavy and stiff brocades, full-skirted, tight-bodiced. But there were also diaphanous stuffs that flowed like water, cloud-blue, dusk-grey and leaf-green. The whole pile was shimmering and opalescent, for the diaphanous stuffs seemed to have under-dresses of silver and gold tissues.
Mona disappeared behind the stairs, to return in a moment clad in her usual garments with her glory over her arm, gathered up the heap of opalescence, and stalked off in her usual sturdy manner across the cloister garth to the farmhouse, Hugh behind her. The glory was departed; Mona was back to her normal, but Hugh had had a glimpse of that other self in her, the Renaissance self, that lay there under all, waiting to be called into life, and he was not likely to forget.
There came a day when they all packed into the Rolls-Royce and turned up at the village church to supervise the making one of Bill and Silly. Mr and Mrs Huggins were there; they delighted in doing anything that could possibly annoy Miss Pumfrey. Mr Pinker was not there, though he turned up at the wedding breakfast and did his share and something over, explaining apologetically that he could not afford to quarrel with Miss Pumfrey and the vicar. Even Mrs Pascoe was there, to Silly Lizzie’s horror, who was certain she had come to forbid the banns, and was with difficulty prevented from turning back and bolting forthwith. But Mrs Pascoe had proved a ready convert when told that Miss Pumfrey was infuriated at the idea of any orphan of hers getting married, and had threatened to invoke the power of the law to prevent such an indecency. The vicar eyed them with a sour eye and broke the speed record for the diocese. Thereafter there was a noble binge at the Green Man, and Mr Huggins had to be driven home round the common in Mr Pinker’s gig because he was incapable of walking. Bill and Silly then went off for a week at Southend at Hugh’s expense, and stopped on for another week at the rate-payers’ expense for having been drunk and disorderly.
Thereafter Hugh and Mona were free to attend to their own affairs. They drove up to town, collected Jelkes from among his books, and as Mona’s flat was just over the Marylebone boundary, set off for the registry office. Having paid this tribute to the gods of England, they both kissed the blushing Jelkes and returned to Monks Farm and the gods of Greece.
The full moon rode high and cloudless over Monks Farm. As far as Hugh and Mona’s outward demeanour was concerned, this evening in no way differed from any other evening at Monks Farm, save that Lizzie was not there to do her little jobs with such painstaking care and incompetency.
Monks Farm was quiet with a quietness that seemed almost uncanny to the ears that had rung with the noise of London all day. A dog barked on a far-off farm; a misguided rooster crowed; and between each sound there were long spaces of warm scented stillness as a faint breeze stirred soundlessly in a line of ancient thorns, laden with blossom. The afterglow faded from the west, and a bright low star came out over the pines.
‘Our star,’ said Hugh, squeezing Mona’s arm where his hand lay. ‘Come along, I’ve got something to show you. But first we must assume our Pan wedding-garments.’
When Mona rejoined him she wore floating green, but the moonlight took all colour from it and she looked like a grey wraith. Hugh himself wore the traditional fawn-skin.
They went down between the herb borders, hoary silver in the dusk, crossed the bare pasture, and entered the pine-wood, now cleared of brambles. In the dense belt of yews an arch had been cut. They came out into the little, lozenge-shaped glade bathed in moonlight, and away scurried dozens of rabbits, all except one baby thing that lost its head and took refuge in the shadow of the pillar and stayed there throughout the proceedings, as if representing its Master, the Lord of the Wild.
Hugh offered no explanation, and Mona offered no comment. Neither were needed. He placed her at one end of the enclosure, and took up his own position at the other, the new-risen moon behind them. Then he waited for inspiration, for he had no idea what a rite of Pan might be.
Silently they waited, and time went by, but it did not seem to drag. Both were thinking of the ancient rites of Eleusis, and wondering in what form the power of the god would come upon them. Once only Hugh stirred, to raise his arms in invocation. Mona never moved. The turf beneath their feet retained the heat of the day, though the air was slowly chilling with the evening damp.
Hugh’s thoughts went back to his dream of the hills of Greece: perhaps there he would pick up the trail. He followed in his mind the path of the dream, up the steep hillside, through the sparse wood, and then, almost involuntarily, he entered the deeper wood and felt the cold pang of fear that lurked there waiting for him. He felt it in the solar plexus, like a hand gripping, and a shudder went all over him. He saw the hanging points of Mona’s drapery flicker, and knew that she had shuddered too. Then he saw that between them was a path of pale gold light, and it was not moonlight.
A breath of wind began to stir in the narrow space between the encircling yews, a little cold breath of air that moved softly over them, as if feeling them, paused, and moved again and was gone. Then the temperature began to rise. It rose steadily, rapidly, till Hugh felt the sweat break out on his chest, left bare by the fawn-skin. He found it hard to breathe, and his breath came short and quick. The band of light across the turf rose hip-high. It bound him to Mona as the current binds a man to the live rail. It was far stronger than he expected, and again came the pang of fear.
Then the place began to fill with light, overpowering the oppressive heat. It was a curious light, neither of the sun, nor of the moon, nor of the stars; more silver than the golden band that still shone amid it; less silvery than the pale moon-glow and the stars. And in this light all things were reflected. The earth spread away into space in a great curve, with their grove upon it. It swung through the heavens in a yet greater curve, the planets circling around it, and it was ringed like Saturn with luminous bands. This was the earth-aura, and within it was lived their life. Their psychic selves breathed in those bands of light as their physical selves breathed in the atmosphere. And within the earth was the earth-soul, all alive and sentient, and from it they drew their vitality.
Mona knew that these things were there all the time, though in their normal state they were unaware of them; but Hugh thought that they had come at his invocation, and felt that the whole swinging sphere circled about him, and for a brief moment knew godhead.
Then the light returned to focus on the glade, leaving behind, like a receding tide, the memory of the environing infinity, never to be effaced. For ever after Hugh would live his life against that background and measure all things by it.
The glade was softly luminous, very hot, and a band of glowing gold, like illuminated smoke, stretched from Hugh to Mona, flowing around the pillar, whose co
nical top rose just above it. Behind Hugh was the newly-risen moon and his face was in darkness, but Mona’s showed clear in the moonlight. He could see her eyes, but she could not see his, and her look had a blankness in consequence, as if she were looking beyond him at something that stood behind. Perhaps she was: for at that moment a gradually dawning awareness made itself felt, and Hugh knew that something was behind him, vast and overshadowing, and that from it emanated the band of light that passed through him and fell upon Mona. He felt himself getting vaster and vaster, and about to burst with the force that was upon him. He was towering up, his head among the stars; below him, Mona and the earth lay in darkness. But over the earth-bend the advancing line of dawn was creeping up, then he realized that this was no earthly dawn, but the coming of the sun-god.
Yes, it was not the goat-god, crude and earthy. It was the Sun! But not the sun of the sophisticated Apollo, but an older, earlier, primordial sun, the sun of Helios the Titan. Hugh had not known what Freudian deeps they would work through in the name of the goat-god, and was prepared for anything; but this golden exaltation of high space took him completely by surprise. Then he remembered. ‘All the gods are one god, and all the goddesses are one goddess, and there is one initiator.’ The All-Father was celestial Zeus — and woodland Pan — and Helios the Life-giver. He was all these things, and having known Pan, a man might pass on to the heavenly gate where Helios waits beside the Dawn.
Hugh felt his feet winged with fire, and knew that he was coming as the Angel of the Annunciation came to the Virgin: he was coming as the messenger of the Life-giver. Far below him Mona waited in the earth-shadow, and it seemed to him that she was in some way lying back upon the earth and sunk in it, like a swimmer floating in water.
And he knew that he was coming swiftly on the wings of the dawn, coming up with the dawn-wind as it circled the earth. He could see the line of golden light advance, and knew that his return to the grove would coincide with its coming.
Then he found himself standing in the grove, in his own body, clad in the fawn-skin, and the line of light was just beyond his feet. For the first time since the vision began he moved, taking a step forward. The line of light advanced with him. He took another step forward; it advanced again. Mona also had taken two paces forward. He moved again, and the light and the woman moved also.
Now they were standing face to face upon either side of the pillar. Hugh raised his sinewy bare arms and stretched them over Mona’s head, and the light that had enveloped him spread over her also. Then, raising his right hand in the Salute of the Sun he lowered the left, tingling and burning with a strange heat, and laid the flat palm between Mona’s breasts and cried the ancient cry — ‘Hekas, Hekas, este bibeloi! Be ye far from us, O ye profane.’
A MAGICAL INVOCATION OF PAN
I am She who ere the earth was formed Rose from the sea.
O First-begotten Love, come unto me,
And let the worlds be formed of me and thee.
Giver of vine and wine and ecstasy,
God of the garden, shepherd of the lea —
Bringer of fear, who maketh men to flee,
I am thy priestess, answer unto me!
Lo, I receive the gifts thou bringest me —
Life, and more life, in fullest ecstasy.
I am the moon, the moon that draweth thee.
I am the waiting earth that needeth thee.
Come unto me, Great Pan; come unto me!
(from ‘The Rite of Pan’)
STAR BOOKS
are available through all good booksellers but, where difficulty is encountered, titles can usually be obtained by post from:
Star Book Service,
G.P.O. Box 29,
Douglas,
Isle of Man,
British Isles.
Please send retail price plus 8p per copy.
Customers outside the British Isles should include 10p post/packing per copy.
Book prices are subject to alteration without notice.
«««« * »»»»
Scanned and proofed by Amigo da Onça
Table of Contents
The Goat-Foot God by Dion Fortune
Rear cover details
Preview
About the Author
Copyright details
Poem - The Goat-Foot God
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
Invocation of Pan
Star Books
Rear Cover