Sod. Released by a thread from the rafters, no doubt. But I’d been half expecting trouble, and a good conjuror’s stooge can think on his feet.
‘Oh ye who would see a sign! Yet it shall be given thee. Yea, it shall be traced out in thy sight! Take virgin parchment’ – now I knew how they pronounced it – ‘and inscribe it after this fashion –’
A few minutes later we were staring at a broad sheet of parchment with a circle of letters on it. And I was asking Dee what this could be all about, and he was shaking his head mournfully. ‘Nay, ’tis all new to me. The angels have shown us strange methods of picking letters from the cross-row and suchlike schemes and patterns. It was thus they gave us knowledge of those divine and angelic names you heard, and of their arcane tongue.’ I’d guessed as much. The cross-row was how the Elizabethans often laid out the alphabet, and the names sounded like that kind of random gibberish. But this would be something they hadn’t tried.
Jane Dee appeared, carrying an elegant little crystal goblet. ‘’Tis the best we have,’ she said doubtfully.
‘Then it must surely serve, wife!’ said Dee cheerfully, upending it in the centre of the circle as the fluty voice had directed. ‘Now, brother!’
Kelley’s infernal good humour had all but evaporated – a great relief. Grumpily he settled himself down opposite. ‘This I like not,’ he grumbled. ‘Cannot we seek guidance by the tried and trusted ways?’
Yes, and I knew damn well what they’d been about to say. To my surprise Dee turned unusually testy. ‘I remind you, Brother, it was to seek new communications we launched upon this whole enterprise! Did you not many times counsel me to open my mind and have faith? Do likewise now!’
He stuck a finger on the base of the glass. I added mine, and under Dee’s stern eye Kelley reluctantly plonked a horny fingernail alongside.
‘A brief prayer?’ I suggested to Dee, with malice aforethought.
Quarter of an hour later Kelley’s saintly smile was wearing pretty thin. Fine by me; the more tired his finger was, the better.
Suddenly Joan Kelley, watching with Jane, gave a breathy little squeak. Slowly the glass was beginning to move. They all stared at it like a snake as it slowly circled the ring – and stopped, at the letter F. Kelley snatched away his finger as if he’d touched a snake, but Dee seized it and, surprisingly, was able to force it back. Again the glass circled; again it stopped, at the letter R. ‘Who does this thing?’ demanded Kelley, his weathered features turning a curious grey. ‘I’ll swear ’tis bewitched!’
‘Blaspheme not, brother!’ warned Dee sternly. ‘Have you not looked upon marvels as great? No man’s hands propels the glass, that I can see or feel!’
He was right, in a way. The ouija-board effect is just a matter of tensions. A single humorist can start or stop the glass moving with the faintest of efforts, then use all the other shifting finger pressures to keep it that way. That’s how it worked, anyhow, as it spelled out the word res.
‘In Latin!’ breathed Dee. ‘Meaning – but here it starts anew!’ Kelley gulped and muttered as under our fingers the glass spelled out ipsa and loqvitvr. I was ready in case he tried to hijack it, but he was too unnerved by the eerie glide.
‘The matter may speak for itself!’ translated Dee, astonished. ‘What now? Fidete, it readeth, as if to say trust!’
I was a bit chuffed with the vs for us; that gave it a nice old-fashioned look. Not that I knew much Latin, really, but I’d picked up quite a few legal tags – what with one thing and another, and another – and they sounded suitably vague and impressive.
‘Fidete – cvm – amicvs … trust as friend, aye, aye!’ nodded Dee excitedly. ‘Fratercvlvmque – and as … younger brother – in fraternam – et in omnis … in brotherhood and in everything. Ah … er, brotherhood?’
A long silence. One of those silences. Dee was tugging at his beard, which seemed to have corkscrewed again. Kelley’s face still wore its genial smile, but slightly lopsided; his real expression was his whole body, taut as a spring, heavy fists clenched. If looks could kill, that one would have burned me at the stake and jumped up and down on the ashes.
He was ninety per cent sure I was a fake – but so was he. If he tried to expose me, he’d be exposing himself too. And suppose I wasn’t a fake? Suppose that I’d somehow managed to tap the currents of real magic that were flowing around here? Where would that leave him? His only chance of getting what he evidently longed for was through me. Either way, he didn’t dare say a word against me. Any such thing would get him first.
I blinked trustfully at Dee. ‘Sir, do not distress yourself. I am sure I am unworthy.’
‘In omnis …’ muttered the old man, all his bounce departed. ‘No, no, I see much worth in you already. ’Tis not that I doubt that, or the command. No, it only comes hard upon me, to subdue my baser self – harder even than before, for Master Kelley and I had laboured together for many fruitful years. Still, still, I can see the justice of it, Master Maxie, and the benefit.’ He patted me on the shoulder. ‘If we are to gain from you, why should you not take a full share in all we have – eh, brother Edward?’
I blinked innocently at Brother Edward. As I had expected, he had enough sense not to protest, in case it brought his own little house of cards tumbling down. He muttered something I chose to take as a blessing, and I rose and bowed to him politely. It didn’t seem to cheer him up.
‘So be it,’ sighed Dee, wagging his head unhappily. ‘There are solemn rites of brotherhood, to which we will introduce you this afternoon-tide. But first the ladies must be informed.’ He drew a deep breath, as if he wasn’t looking forward to something. ‘Oh, there you are, my dears! Wonderful news, wonderful, you must hear it at once—’
They’d heard, all right. Mrs Kelley simply beamed and bobbed a curtsey, putting her plump, floury cheek up for a chaste kiss. Jane Dee stood like stone, and her cheek when I kissed it was cold, then flamed suddenly crimson. Her eyes met mine for a second, and they had an extraordinary look in them. Ever seen an animal cornered in a trap?
I haven’t; but I’ve been one.
I knew the imprint of that look from inside the skin, and it goes deep, I can tell you. Anger and pain and humiliation and a wild flailing behind the walls of bone, the kind of panic that might make a fox chew off its own leg to be free.
‘Hold, brothers,’ I said suddenly, and quickly. ‘It seems … it seems as if a voice speaks to me. As if—’
I was desperately trying to hedge, kicking myself mentally, telling myself not to be such a bloody fool and get something I wanted for once in this life. God knows I was working hard enough for it. But the words kept on spilling out, and maybe the tension lent some life to them. ‘I hear!’
I was tempted to try the fluty voice again, but this would be better coming from me. ‘To join the Angelic Brotherhood, yes – to share everything alike, great, OK, it’s a wrap. My wife shall be yours, er, just as soon as I have one, that is. But I think I am being allowed to understand the angels’ orders better than you did. This whole business of sharing, it’s a symbolic union, isn’t it? I mean, yes, you haven’t been doing anything wrong, it can be – er – consummated without sin, sure.’
‘Beyond question!’ exclaimed Dee, wonderingly. ‘What follows?’
‘Well – suppose you can – only you don’t? All the more virtue in not, uh, doing it. See?’ Dee was listening with intent wonder. Jane I couldn’t look at. ‘I mean – because OK, you’re allowed to, uh, sleep with your brother’s wife, it’s OK and moral and permissible and everything. Well – doesn’t that make it much more virtuous not to do it? To just stick to your own wife, like before. Couldn’t that be a magically potent sort of act? A moral kickstart?’
Kelley was staring at me, utterly transfixed. Well, that might be a good start. His face looked more like a cheese than ever – one of the smellier breeds. Dee gaped like a fish, and Jane even more so, her cheeks fiery smudges against bloodless white. Even Joan Kelley was nodding thoughtfu
lly to herself.
Then suddenly Dee surged to his feet in a torrent of robe, and his skinny fist crashed on the table. ‘O philosopher, philosopher, hast come to this, that a child scarce out of the cradle can so correct you? Nay, brother, I wrong you, you are but a conduit for celestial wisdom, and blessed in it! Brother Edward, Brother Edward, did I not think myself unworthy for my doubts of th’angelic word? And here is all made clear at last! Come, Maxie, truest brother, let me clip you to my heart, for you have lightened it a thousandfold this day!’
‘And I!’ I dimly heard Jane Dee exclaim, half laughing, half crying. ‘And I!’ Dimly, because I was being suffocated in great folds of silk and wool, not overly clean.
It was as sincere a hug as I’d ever had from any woman. OK, it reminded me a bit too forcibly of the chance I’d just kicked out the window, but that was some consolation.
So was the look on Brother Edward’s face when I turned and said, ‘Let’s not forget you too, Brother,’ and kissed him on both cheeks, General de Gaulle fashion.
I’d remembered you could just about get away with that in Elizabethan times. If I hadn’t known he was the controlled type, I’d never have risked it. As it was he seemed to have a slight breathing problem, and the veins in his temples ballooned up beautifully. Always the same, these anal-retentives. With any luck he’d give himself a stroke. Joan Kelley just beamed and turned the other cheek.
And that, folks, is why that afternoon Waxie Maxie was solemnly admitted to the ranks of the Angelic Brotherhood. And felt he deserved it, too, for resisting temptation. Mind you, it was a good thing Jane Dee didn’t have wheels.
What took place I can’t reveal. Not because of all the solemn oaths I took, but because the ceremony was such an incredible brain-bending, bollock-aching bore. I got some sour amusement out of Kelley, who evidently found it just as bad. He, of course, had dreamed the whole crappy rigmarole up, courtesy of his Angelic web site, to impress Dee. He’d probably never imagined he’d have to sit through it all again. Doing it for me only made matters worse.
Dee never noticed; he was in his element, high as a kite on the sound of his own mellow voice. Much as I liked the old bugger, I could cheerfully have bound and gagged him all over again.
When it was done at last, though, we had a ceremonial feast, and pretty good it was. I suspected Jane Dee had gone to a lot of extra trouble. My plate was never allowed to become empty; my glass neither, and it was wine we were drinking now, a pretty fair dry white with a sort of tongue-prickling tang. The result was that even Kelley cheered up a bit, and we ended singing what Dee called catches and rounds, some of them thoroughly bawdy. At last I staggered up the winding stairs again with Jane Dee lighting my way. The candlelight kept giving little leaps as she hiccupped. I swayed over to the bed in a mellow mood, all last night’s nasty moments forgotten, ready for sweet dreams.
Some hope.
I lay back happily enough. They’d swallowed it like babes, all of them. I could make my fortune here. Kiddie-party conjuring – I ought to develop it – make up some props, the double-layered hood, maybe, and the jointed rope, the table drop. Definitely not the sawing-in-half routine, though, or the sword cabinet. They did things like that for real back here. No point giving them ideas …
Something jerked me awake instantly, like a cat. A draught bulged the bed-curtains, then hinges squeaked softly and they settled. The latch clicked gently, and the bolt I should have remembered rasped slowly home. I lay frozen, trying to calm my noisy breathing, watching the curtains, expecting them to part suddenly – or would they just sprout a rapier blade?
The temptation to ask, ‘Who’s there?’ was overwhelming, like in the vampire films – and I certainly wished I hadn’t thought of that. This city looked like a sort of Hammer holiday camp.
More likely Edward Kelley than Christopher Lee, though, and bad enough. Coming to settle accounts, no doubt, and clear the way to the power he wanted. Floorboards creaked, and I wished to hell I knew how to call on it right now. Another creak. Swift, heavy breathing. The curtains twitched, I bunched what was laughingly called my fist and gathered myself to jump for it.
There was a stifled hiccup in the dark.
‘?’ was about all I could manage.
‘Sss – hic – ssh!’
A soft finger touched my lips. ‘Hush, hush, good Master Maxie! Wilt betray – hic! – me?’
Something like an electrified rodent scuttled up my spine. ‘Mrs Dee? N-never—’
The bed creaked gently beside me. A feather of cool breath touched my cheek. ‘Say naught, then. You have been my truest friend, and a younger brother to my poor husband, great as he is in spirit and scholarship, and least, dear soul, in worldly wisdom, where you seem greatest. And much as he pleases me in other wise, he waxes old now and is – hic! – little enough to my content!’
‘Oh. Sorry.’
She rounded on me. ‘But do not think, even so, that anything less than my lord’s command would have had me bed with the man Kelley! Man, fie! He’s a beast – hic – a very beastly beast, a filthy-handed ape who’ll not lave himself but by the quarterday and compels … compels all manner of gross practices from me! Fie! Me, who has been lady to Her Majesty! A monster. A satyr. And you are my Saint George that has delivered me from him.’
She hiccupped, and sniffled a little. I could smell her. She wore a heavy sort of perfume – oil of roses, probably, with maybe a touch of musk – but it didn’t mask her own scent. Definitely she didn’t wash enough by modern standards, but it was a healthy, animalistic smell. Her voice went very little-girly. ‘A true brother … and the angels say there’s no sin in it with a brother—’
Delicate fingers brushed my bare arm, then seized my hand. ‘Thou’st touched my heart already. So, bring it to the board then, and let it drink!’ She crushed it to her breast, literally. If they’d had mains then, she could just as well have plugged me in.
One layer of linen nightdress stressed in short order what else wasn’t there, and what was. Her breast nuzzled my palm. Shrinking violet I am not, normally; but with her I couldn’t move. Her other hand stroked my hair back from my brow, slid down my neck and flattened on my chest. She laughed softly. ‘So thin! A true scholar. For sure you’ve no wife to care for you! Poor Maxie!’ Her hand slid downward, closed and rocked. ‘Poor Maxie!’
I leaned forward, hypnotised. Her hand moved steadily. A soft blend of wine and flowers blew in my face, and her lips were hot, a little dry, very soft. I couldn’t believe it. I really was in another world now. I prised her lips apart with my tongue and chased hers, until she hiccuped and giggled and laid her burning cheek against my shoulder. ‘A-ha-ha, no virgin thou, for all thy simplicity!’
Half dreaming, I wrapped my arms around her, and ran my hands up and down her spine, mostly down, ruffling around in that damn nightdress. How could you lose something that important? Then I happened upon it, and she writhed against me, with a soft, exhaling groan.
My oh my, in spades. She had quite a grip, and she wasn’t hanging around. I still couldn’t quite believe this was happening, or why, or who I was exactly, but by then it was a bit late. She had her legs around my waist, ankles locked, and the bed wobbled and sang a creaky little song as we ground our way down into the feather mattress, grabbing at one another. I did have one moment’s misgivings that somebody would hear, but then we were over the jumps and into the final straight, she was giving slow, tearing whimpers in my ear and who else existed anyhow?
The threshing slowed down gradually. Panting, sweaty, face-down and half suffocating with my mouth full of linen and feathers, I found myself wondering if I’d rather be bombing down a long, bare stretch of six-lane blacktop in a Porsche Targa belonging to somebody I didn’t like – Ahwaz, say.
Yes, I decided.
But only just.
I rolled aside, feeling the drying sweat and stickiness contracting on my skin, and drew a deep, happy breath. A hand stroked my cheek. ‘Ah, good Maxie! Thou’rt a n
imble knave, and deft of thy hands.’
‘Mmm. You drive me to it. We rushed at it a bit too much, though.’
‘Wicked Maxie. What more could we have—’
I demonstrated. ‘Oh,’ she said, several times, and one thing led to yet another. When the feathers settled on that she was a warm, agreeable weight on my chest, nibbling my ear and hiccupping. I massaged her behind and wished there was some light in here. I seemed to remember they had different ideas about the female figure in the past, but from the brief silhouette I’d glimpsed bouncing against the dim window light, Jane was pretty modern. She ran her tongue around the inside of my ear.
‘Maxie, my sweetest dove, my sugar mouse—’
‘First time anybody’s called me that.’
‘Those gross practices—’
‘Well, I was just—’
A little while later the covers were on the floor and us halfway after them in a tangled heap. I kissed her between the shoulder blades and manoeuvred myself creakily back up. All good things come to an end, and I felt I was in danger of just that.
She remained leaning on her elbows, and wagged her feet idly in the air. ‘Thou hast the right of it, dearest Maxie. Faith, who’d have thought it so different? ’Tis not the practice, but the person.’ She sighed dreamily. ‘A proper Cleopatra thou’lt make me, riggish without shame—’
I reached out to help her up, but instead she cascaded gently among the tangled covers and swung back up on her knees. ‘And thou? How wilt thou think of me henceforth? A faithless wife, a light woman, a street whore to pleasure and pass by!’
I stroked her hair. ‘I want to go home. To my own place and time. I can’t stay, you can’t come. But you I could never forget.’
‘You have loved many women, that I know. How should I be different?’
Maxie’s Demon Page 18