The Hearing Trumpet

by Leonora Carrington

  In the meantime I am ingratiating myself with the lady Abbess of the convent in order to precipitate my power over the other nuns. My long meditations and devotional exercises have already impressed her favourably, it will not be very long before I take my final vows. How heartily you will laugh when you read this! We will soon be undermining the Vatican itself! My position here is not sufficiently stabilized to send for my books and I chafe cruelly at hours of precious study wasted in church, however the Ancient Art also claims its price and for my part I feel I am putting gold in the coffers each dreary hour spent kneeling on the hard stone floor.

  So my dear Rampant Wildpig, think of me at each meal eating black bread and drinking water whenever you want to eat a dozen pheasant pastries too many and fall under the table glutted; this would be excellent to control the growth of your great belly which will certainly kill you before your time. I also advise the seduction of fewer adolescents for you may wear out your sap and become a dotard before you are a magician.

  Now with Your Grace’s permission I shall give a short account of the small failings of our lady Abbess so that you might eject the poison from your system with some hearty mirth . . .

  Doña Rosalinda then exposes some irreverent anecdotes which are so offensive to a Christian mind that I refrain from putting them down here.

  The convent of Santa Barbara was at that time under the direction of the Abbess Doña Clemencia Valdez de Flores Trimestres. This venerable lady was from an excellent old Castilian family renowned as stalwart supporters of the Church and honoured by Rome with the Star of Saint Ermyntrude.

  During the first years of her life in the convent Doña Rosalinda was conspicuous for her piety and strenuous penitence. The sounds of flagellation brought admiring groups of nuns outside the door of her cell. At times she would kneel all night in the chapel repeating Ave Marias on her rosary. During High Mass she would constantly fall into ecstasies and would have to be propped up by priedieus that were rigid and stiff as a board. Nuns suffering from various ailments soon evoked her help, believing that the mere touch of her hands was enough to alleviate pain and disease itself.

  Rosalinda, who had extensive knowledge of herbs, installed a small dispensary in the convent where she performed many successful cures. I am now tempted to think that Rosalinda’s prayers were more in the nature of incantations, and that she was well versed in witchcraft before she ever entered the convent.

  Rosalinda alone attended the old Abbess on her deathbed, and who knows by what black powers she obtained the title of Abbess even before the poor lady had expired.

  After the death of the old Abbess the convent routine underwent many changes invisible to the world outside the walls of the convent. Spiritual supervision of the nuns was in the charge of the Bishop of Trève les Frêles. Nobody would have dared criticize anything approved by such a high dignitary of the church.

  In the darkest hours of night the convent chapel became the scene of orgiastic dancing and strange chants in unknown tongues. Weird costumes, pageantry and feasting became the order of the day at the Convent of Santa Barbara.

  Relays of foreign craftsmen came to the convent to redecorate the sumptuous apartments of the Abbess. The octagonal tower became the centre of much activity. The North Wing was chosen by Doña Rosalinda as her own special domain, the octagonal tower forming the main construction of this part of the building. The upper chamber was converted into an observatory, open terraces on all sides affording a complete survey of the Heavens. The reception chamber and sleeping alcove were situated underneath the observatory, which could be reached conveniently by a spiral staircase.

  Scarlet silk studded with little purple and gold Griffins constituted the wall hangings in these chambers. The furniture, made of dark odiferous wood, was carved like all the beasts in creation. Brocade, gorgeously embroidered toreador capes dripped casually from the Abbess’s throne, which was carved with her own emblem of Swords and Pomegranates.

  Parquet floors of ebony and white magnolia wood inlaid with silver angels and bronze medallions of the apostles was the sumptuous ground under Doña Rosalinda’s small feet. There was something disquieting that such holy beings should be constantly trodden upon by the Abbess. A Persian carpet was occasionally laid for the reception of special visitors.

  A Chinese bookcase decorated with ivory lotus columns and kneeling horses made of the finest jade and as plump as pigs enclosed the personal library of Doña Rosalinda.

  Her books were bound with the hides of various animals, according to their specific contents. Special manuscripts would be bound with ostrich skin or wolf hide. A breviary of a more frivolous nature might be clad with ermine fur or moleskin. A Quabbalistic document by Agrippa von Nettesheim was clad in rhinoceros horn delicately engraved with the horoscope of Queen Hatshepsut. The Liber Spirituum and the Grimorium Verum was covered with Dodo skins studded with small rubies and seed pearls.

  It would be impossible to follow the devious reasons that made the Abbess thus attire her eccentric literature, however that she set the utmost importance to her rare and often wicked books was apparent to anyone who knew her even slightly.

  Indeed she spent most of her days locked in her apartments studying these volumes and writing long commentaries on many a strip of the finest parchment. At nightfall she would mount the spiral staircase to the observatory where she manipulated her forbidden knowledge with I know not what Magic induced by the celestial bodies of the stars.

  The return of the Bishop of Trève les Frêles from the East brought the Abbess temporarily out of retirement. Banquets especially prepared by cooks from abroad were given in honour of the Bishop. Prelates of various ranks were entertained at these feasts.

  The Bishop himself brought gifts for Doña Rosalinda from the East. These included the embalmed head of a white elephant, all sorts of orgiastically embroidered apparel, a huge sandalwood crate full of Turkish delight and of course the precious flasks of Musc de Madelaine, the ointment said to have been excavated in Nineveh and found beside the mummy of Mary Magdalen herself. This powerful aphrodisiac was no doubt responsible for the supposed miracles attributed to the Abbess after her death.

  A report from Mother Maria Guillerma informed me of the following extravagant occurrence of which she was eyewitness through the ample keyhole of Doña Rosalinda’s apartments. The keyholes later on became obscurum per obscurius after two nuns were blinded in one eye by a silver needle poked through the opening by the ever-perspicacious Abbess.

  They saw Rosalinda and the Bishop inhaling Musc de Madelaine and by some process of enfleurage becoming so saturated with the vapours of the ointment that they were surrounded by a pale blue cloud or aura which apparently acted as a volatile element on solid bodies. Thus the Bishop and Abbess were wafted into the air and were suspended, levitating, over the open crate of Turkish delight with which they were both gorged. Modesty forbids a full account of the disgusting acrobatics which were then performed in midair.

  At that period I was too intimidated by the August Dignity of the Bishop to question the matter any further.

  During a certain period after the return of the Bishop, Doña Rosalinda would occasionally give demonstrations for the edification of the rest of the community gathered in the chapel for that purpose. She would turn a luminous blue and levitate over the altar while the nuns swooned with the overpowering vapours of Musc de Madelaine which invaded the entire chapel. The orgies which followed these demonstrations are far too horrible to set down with honest ink. Occasionally and much against my will I was obliged to participate myself, through a natural reverence for my superior, the Bishop.

  About the time of the Feast of Corpus Christi the Abbess received a dispatch which threw her into a state of great agitation. This document which is still in my possession reads as follows:

  His Royal Highness Prince Theutus Zosimos who has just debarked on Spanish territory sends his m
ost attentive homage to the Lady Abbess, Doña Rosalinda Alvarez Cruz della Cueva of the Convent of Santa Barbara de Tartarus and begs to inform her that he has come to Spain with the determination of reclaiming twenty-one flasks of ointment, Musc de Madelaine, which is his rightful property and which he bought for the price of fifteen camels, a hundredweight of wheat grains and six angora goats. The Caravan of His Highness was savagely attacked near Nineveh by what His Highness mistook for a band of local ruffians. His painful surprise was therefore unlimited when he learnt from a spy sent after the bandits, that the corpulent leader of the Assassins was none other than the Bishop of Trève les Frêles. With some expense and diligence His Highness was informed that the ultimate destination of the said ointment was the Convent of Santa Barbara de Tartarus, Castilla, Spain.

  His Royal Highness Prince Theutus Zosimos has no immediate intention of marching belligerently on the convent as he feels assured that the good will and excellent reputation of the Lady Abbess will suffice to return the property of His Highness.

  His Highness therefore begs to inform the Abbess, Doña Rosalinda Alvarez Cruz della Cueva, that she may expect a friendly visit from the Prince Himself and Certain Courtiers within a few days and nights, the time, in fact, that it would take to travel from the Mediterranean coast to the hills of Castilla.

  Prince Theutus Zosimos will be honoured to be the guest of the Lady Abbess for a few days’ respite before returning to his own country with all the twenty-one full flasks of the ointment Musc de Madelaine, enclosed in sealed earthenware jars.

  The Prince offers his most graceful compliments to the Lady Abbess, etc.

  This epistle was sealed with the image of a rampant sea unicorn and the words Nulla aqua fit quelles, nisi illa que fit de Monoceros aquae nostrae. These were the arms of the royal house of Theutus Zosimos.

  After a lengthy audience with the Bishop, the Abbess summoned her coach and, taking certain provisions for the journey, left the convent the same evening. The secret nature of her mission obliged her to wear the disguise of a bearded nobleman dressed with rich but discreet velvets of midnight violet trimmed with sable and frilled at the throat with lion-coloured Irish point lace, very rare in Spain at that time.

  The coach had been especially constructed for secret missions. It never emerged from the convent during daylight so it was little known in the neighbourhood. The interior was fashioned after the usual luxurious tastes of the Abbess, scented sandalwood padded with jewelled antelope skin, cushions and curtains of lemon-coloured silk embroidered with Swords and Pomegranates in silver and gold thread, seed pearls, opals and rubies. The exterior of the coach presented a deceptively simple aspect. It was sheathed in silver leaf and bore no ornamentation other than a wreath of mermaids and pineapples around the roof. The coach was drawn by two magnificent Arab mares white as milk and incomparably swift.

  Accompanied by a single trusted servant and the coachman, the intrepid Abbess set out on her nocturnal journey towards the south.

  Ninety hours had scarcely passed before Doña Rosalinda intercepted the hired coach carrying the Prince. His Highness was guarded only by two outriders, having left a small army of Moors at Granada to await orders. The outriders were speedily dispatched by Rosalinda’s servant, Don Venancio, one of the finest swordsmen in Castilla. In a short space of time the Abbess held the Prince captive in her own coach and the white mares were turned on the road back to Santa Barbara of Tartarus.

  The Prince was so young and comely that the Abbess refrained from doing him any bodily injury; his rich apparel and black skin, small surly beard and flashing eyes impressed her so favourably that she decided to keep him as her constant attendant. The fact that Theutus Zosimos had by no means agreed to this honour did not affect the decision of the Abbess. She sat smiling to herself while the Prince kicked and swore in his own language, caught in the brawny grip of Don Venancio the Swordsman.

  The journey back to Santa Barbara de Tartarus must have been a spectacle of no mean savour. The account of the Abbess, however, was restrained and she refused to be questioned on her return. Deductions of the situation were possible, however, thanks to certain caustic remarks made by the Bishop, and the attitude of Prince Theutus Zosimos left absolutely no doubt on the general aspect of the situation.

  Reconstructing the journey without details, I picture the Prince becoming slowly aware of the smiling cavalier in the coach. The cavalier, who was of course the Abbess in disguise, aroused the perverted interest of the young man. Certain unnatural oriental customs having already warped his manhood, the Prince made improper advances to Doña Rosalinda who, under the illusion that the Prince recognized her as a lady in disguise willingly accepted the gallantries of the handsome youth. These advances cannot have gone far, however, for when they arrived at the convent the Prince still thought that the Abbess was a gentleman. When she appeared before him smilingly attired in her normal robes he turned coldly aside and gave insinuating glances at the Bishop.

  Moreover once Theutus Zosimos became aware that he was the prisoner of the Abbess, who had also robbed him of the precious flasks of Musc de Madelaine, he fell into such a deep trance of melancholia that his life was endangered. Refusing all food and drink he lay prostrate on the dragon couch in the private alcove of the Abbess. After a few days his dusky complexion turned cadmium yellow and his flashing eyes sunk into his head like two stagnant wells.

  The Abbess, whose dominating passion had always been unholy curiosity, decided to give the sick Prince a small quantity of Musc de Madelaine in a tisane. So far nobody had actually absorbed the powerful ointment by mouth; Doña Rose and the Bishop had always obtained the desired results simply by inhaling the vapours. After certain calculations in the observatory upstairs the Abbess concocted a brew with vervain leaves, honey, some drops of rose water and a tablespoonful of Musc de Madelaine. The Bishop, who already had a certain paternal fondness for the Prince and would no doubt have raised objections to this experiment, happened to be on a short journey to Madrid. Certain ecclesiastic matters concerning the diocese of Santa Barbara de Tartarus were now pressing for attention; the petty nobility whose taxes had been raised due to the exigencies of luxurious life in the convent had sent complaints to the Archbishop, who had sent a dispatch to the Bishop requiring his presence in Madrid. All this was merely a matter of form as the Archbishop himself had a taste for comfort and in no way expected any reduction of the taxes. The petty nobility were given the impression that all was well, since high dignitaries of the Church were conducting such important conferences on their behalf in the capital.

  Once the Witch Brew (it cannot be named otherwise) was concocted, the Abbess had me summoned to her presence. I was bade open the jaws of the Prince while the Abbess poured the terrible liquid down his gullet. The unfortunate youth was so weak that the whole operation was quite simple, although I cannot say that my own conscience felt entirely easy. Deep in my heart I felt that the Sinful Ointment should never even have entered a Christian Community, nevertheless I would scarcely have dared to disobey the Abbess, whose forceful personality always petrified my will.

  Once Theutus Zosimos had forcefully swallowed the last drop of the Brew he entered a series of convulsions which were frightful to observe. The expression of mild amusement on the face of Doña Rosalinda was further proof of a callous soul.

  No doubt the weak condition and unmanly nature of the Prince prevented the usual manifestations. Instead of shooting through the ceiling as the Abbess had no doubt hoped, the Prince simply lay on the bed flapping his arms feebly and quacking like a duck in the last extremities of its existence. Turning his bloodshot eyes on the Abbess, the unfortunate Prince stated that he had been turned into a female nightingale that was singing for her mate. The confusion of his mind had somehow transformed the Prince into a bird. After what seemed a long period Theutus Zosimos finally gathered strength and arose from the couch. Flapping and quacking he ran up the stairs
to the observatory, closely followed by the Abbess and myself. Even if we had so desired I doubt if we would have had time to prevent the unhappy result of the Abbess’s experiment. With staring eyes and foaming lips Prince Theutus Zosimos climbed onto the parapet surrounding the observatory. Then, crying out that he was Queen of the Nightingales, he leapt off to a violent death ninety feet below.

  The rest of that ill-omened night was spent burying the Prince in the kitchen garden.

  After the death of Theutus Zosimos, the Bishop of Trève les Frêles seemed to languish. His appetite seemed slightly impaired and he even lost a small quantity of weight. Naturally the Abbess had not informed the Bishop that the Prince was dead. She merely said that during his absence in Madrid she herself had persuaded the Prince to return peacefully to his country. Moreover, she assured the Bishop, the Prince had suddenly imposed certain gallantries upon her person that she had seen fit to satisfy, in exchange for the twenty-one flasks of Musc de Madelaine. It is doubtful if the Bishop actually believed the whole story, although he accepted it without commentary and continued to languish.

  Owing, therefore, to an impaired state of health, the Bishop decided to return for a while to Provence, where the bracing air, he said, would rapidly restore his usual exuberance. However I do believe that the news of a new asset to the ecclesiastical music of Avignon stimulated his departure. We were told by a minstrel, who had passed through the city in question, that a bevy of ravishing blonde choirboys had arrived from the British Isles and that their delicate voices could only be compared to an angelic host. The minstrel further informed us that the boys were under the patronage of a small group of Knights Templar who had escaped the purge and had been hiding in Ireland. The persecuted Knights Templar, said the minstrel, had continued to initiate devotees to the order which flourished under the patronage of certain Irish nobility.