The City in the Autumn Stars

by Michael Moorcock

  I made to pass her the blade but, in spite of me, my hand refused to move.

  ‘Give me your sword!’ In her eyes was the suggestion of a frown.

  I forced my arm to move, to offer up the scabbarded steel. She stared languorously at me, her breath loud in her throat. ‘Oh, my beauty,’ she purred. ‘Promises shall be kept by us both, I swear.’ Her fingers touched the hilt and she gasped in pain. ‘Ah! What’s this? I had forgotten. It is worse than any Grail!’

  ‘It is my sword,’ I said, ‘but therefore I am sure it would not do you harm, Libussa, since we are almost One even now.’

  With the Grail still in her left hand she reached determinedly for the sword’s hilt, plainly controlling great agony as, deliberately, she drew forth the blade from its scabbard. She smiled again at me and I knew fear.

  For the first time I understood that she meant to slice me up as I had sliced Montsorbier. Perhaps she truly believed she would resurrect me when the deed was done, by placing my remains within the crucible. Or did she intend to eat me? I knew enough of a chemical notions of how adepts believed they could confer immortality on themselves and others by the process of dismemberment. The quartered corpse was duly resurrected, they hoped, in water, or sometimes fire. Or both. I looked into Libussa’s eyes and saw the truth.

  ‘Oh, Madam! Is it my execution?’

  She was smiling still. ‘It shall be true immortality, von Bek. We shall soon become a single, hermaphroditic creature. Hermaphroditus Rex shall rule upon the Earth. It is all true, little one. Have faith, as I had faith upon the cross, and we shall be assured of eternal life. It is so. You must believe me now. Come. Waste no more time. The Astral Concordance is here…’

  The scabbard dropped free, into the ash at her feet. She stood, with lips drawn back and teeth gritted, framed against the glowing copper and brass of her Chemical Womb, the Cup in one hand, the Sword in the other. Her tawny skin had always held its own radiance but now she herself seemed made of metal as she reflected the glare from the crucible. And she continued to smile. Her body was enough to draw me close to her. Her sex, her beauty, her power. She required no logic to coax me. Her hand holding the sword shook as if every nerve knew excruciating pain. ‘Come…’

  I was reminded of the ikon I had seen at Prince Miroslav’s, then of Miroslav himself, split by a sword and clinging so hard to life, of the warnings he had given first her and then me. Momentarily alarmed, I stepped back.

  Her smile vanished. Her expression was agony and disbelief mingled. ‘Little one! Come. Quickly.’

  I could not speak, though I opened my mouth. I was frozen.

  ‘Little one!’ She was close to weeping. She was incredulous. ‘You gave me your oath!’

  I forced myself again to move forward. Relieved, she stood with arms outstretched, almost as if she still hung upon that cross. ‘Come!’

  Slowly, panting, I tried to push my body towards her. I felt that my own agony echoed hers. I grunted. I gasped.

  ‘What is it, little one? Why can’t you come to me?’

  ‘The Beast…’ my breath was noisy in my throat. ‘Leave him behind. Slay him first. We have no need of him.’

  She laughed. ‘He shall be our imprisoned power. There is no need to discard such power if it is truly contained. I have tamed the Beast, von Bek. Come to me, von Bek. Come.’

  ‘Dismiss the Beast, Libussa. Kill him, I beg you. Let our harmony be won with nothing but our love and faith! Kill the Beast and I promise I shall let you do what you wish. Your risk, Libussa, must be as great as mine!

  ‘What?’ In her obsession she was all but uncomprehending. ‘Would you betray me now?’

  ‘You betray yourself. You betray us both. Reject the Beast.’

  ‘The Grail must be defended. The Beast defends it. Fool! Is this all mere excuse for cowardice?’

  I stood still again. My eyes were fixed upon her body. I was a few feet from her. If I was to be executed I would rather it were there. ‘Slay the Beast. Then you may slay me. Let the Minotaur be abolished for ever from our world! Libussa, it is the only way!’

  ‘I offer you resurrection, von Bek, and eternal life!’

  The furnace, fuelled still by flesh and blood, began to howl and scream as if demanding further sacrifice. I was weeping helplessly. Still my feet would not move. In the shadows I was sure the Lion still prowled, ready to kill me if she did not. I wished so much to go to her, no matter what she promised or I threatened, but my body was immobile with terror. An enormous effort brought me another step nearer.

  Above us, in that smoking sky, the last of the Autumn Stars went out.

  In that black stillness now remained only a myriad of cold, white points, hard as the angry eyes of God. Their movement had stopped entirely. The Earth became utterly silent. A hushed tension infected the universe. It was as if everything in Creation awaited the outcome of my decision. The Concordance was upon us.

  The Concordance of every sphere, of every occult and natural realm, was upon us. Lines of light began to pass now from star to star until soon the entire firmament was an infinitely complex web of gold and silver threads. It was astonishingly beautiful. And those threads shot down to touch us. Yet the darkness remained. Now I grew aware that the darkness was filling with the scream, the fiery glow of our Chemical Womb, as if the flames of Hell combined and were concentrated therein.

  ‘There is still time,’ she whispered. She was an imploring statue with the Cup and Sword. ‘I mean you only good, von Bek. I offer life, power and union. I offer harmony, a Cure for the World’s Pain. You have drunk my tincture and my blood. Does that mean nought to you, my own betrothed? Please do not betray my faith in you.’

  ‘Madam, if you embrace the Beast, you betray me.’ Those threads of light curled about us as if curious to inspect the upturned helm, that Grail.

  My betrayal, it seemed, was not of any great importance to her scheme. I swayed. I dragged at my muscles until I was moving again.

  ‘Ah!’ Her hair was a blazing crown as she swung her head to glance into her furnace. She was still shaking with the pain of keeping hold of my sword. ‘Quickly! Quickly!’ She stepped back to the Crucible’s open door. ‘Quickly.’ She roared: ‘’Tis almost too late!’

  Behind and above us was the cool light of the new stars; ahead was the glowing furnace. All these things were to be married at once, as we were married. I was to become part of that wholeness. This thought helped me revive my legs until I walked a few further steps, aware that the enormous heat from the Crucible did not burn me. Neither did the white radiance from within blind me. At last I stood beside her again. Though unharmed by the flames I could still feel the warmth and wonder of her flesh. I touched her and leaned up to kiss her lips, but her eyes no longer looked at me. Those eyes had turned to molten brass! ‘Not yet.’ She was a whispering volcano.

  I shall never be able to explain the next sequence of happenings. I no longer hesitated. No matter what my argument, I was drawn to her, passing fluidly into that hissing Chemical Womb, my body alive with a terrible coldness and a terrible heat. They were consuming me. I was melting.

  ‘Libussa!’

  Within it was as though a silver universe heated and cooled then heated again all around me. I was trembling and weak but my faith (since I was as yet unhurt) was improving rapidly. By now I should have been dead; instead there was liquid metal in my veins; my eyes were steel, tempered and re-tempered a thousand times. My brain lost all indistinct thoughts. Every impression, every idea, had the clarity of a perfect diamond. I held up my arm. My skin flowed like quicksilver. I looked up and saw the Grail.

  She held it above my head.

  ‘We shall be the New Messiah!’ Her voice rang like a golden bell. ‘We shall begin our ministry on Earth. Let them call us Anti-Christ, or Daemon, or anything they wish, but we shall define them and that will be inescapable. The Concordance encompasses us. Kneel!’

  I obeyed her.

  ‘We begin the Marriage of Sulphu
r and Mercury; that each may feed upon the other’s flesh and blood. Thus shall our conjoining echo the conjoining of the Million Realms and lead us towards our Resolution and our Magistery. Behold! The fulfilment of our Art. The joining together of the Bride and Groom and their becoming One!’

  I looked up into her incandescent beauty as she raised the sword. My lips opened and I cried out my love for her; all my divine love for her! There was metal in me. There was metal in my Womb. I was fully alive!

  Now I give her my blood and my flesh. O, Libussa! I give you all my life. And you are drinking from the Cup and you are smiling down on me while our Crucible rocks and wails. You plunge the point of the Sword into the Cup and fresh fire blossoms. Your features are my features and seem to fuse; then become molten again, and writhe and smoke. But you are frowning, your eyes are suddenly puzzled…

  The Crucible begins to shake. A different light fills our Womb. I try to rise but my limbs seem truly severed. The light comes from the Grail and is a cold light, like the starlight outside, and it opposes that which melts and marries us! The Grail begins to utter a sound, like the muffled tolling of a gigantic bell. It contains anger. It protests!

  Throw away the Sword, my sister. My bride, I beg thee to banish the Beast! Renounce him and we shall be truly wed!

  ‘Throw away the Sword. Renounce the Beast!’

  She raged and she screamed in her agony but she would not discard the sword. Her flaming hair erupted about her head. Brazen lips screamed their furious pain and burning copper eyes became of themselves a terrible holocaust.

  ‘NO!’

  She would not be ruled. Neither would she be controlled in any way, not by me, not by any supernatural agency, not even by herself! Not at that moment, the greatest moment of her power.

  ‘NO!’

  Our Crucible, our cradle, our womb, creaks and sways. The Grail-light gradually fills it, banishing that other, more hectic, incandescence. You fling it from you, but it does not fall. Instead it hangs directly overhead, continuing to give full voice to its distress and anger. It tells us clearly how we produce a mere parody of Harmony, in direct conflict with its own. It will not go in alliance with the Sword or the Beast.

  Yet you will not give up the Sword. Instead, taking it in your two hands you bring the blade, blow upon terrible blow, against the dented metal of the helm and you are shrieking with anguish. But all you achieve is a deeper tolling, beating more rapidly now and seeming to grow. Golden tears start from your eyes. Your mouth is unstable brass and silver saliva streams unchecked into the surrounding aura. The blade begins to buckle. You cry out in your frustration and now I understand how peaceful is the Grail, how more profound a destiny has been contained in me than ever any of us believed – for you have reversed the ruined Sword and you are bringing the pommel hard against the Cup. Down again! And the Cup is as unmoving, as fixed in its position, as those stars outside. You attack bedrock! Deeper comes the note of the bell, faster until it vibrates the entire Chemical Womb. You smash the Sword’s pommel for the third time against the lip of the Grail. Your voice defies it. NO!

  ‘NO!’ she cried. She would not be cheated. It was unjust to cheat her. My blood, my flesh, the steel in my womb, all were unstable now. A dozen metals, swirling and shrieking, were in conflict therein. Drops of silver and gold fell upon me.

  Drops of silver and gold fall upon my severed limbs and now here is pain at last. Yet my body heals. Every wound heals the moment it is made. But it is such agony. The marriage is not complete. I struggle towards you. Your face is the face of Medusa. Throw away the Sword, Libussa. I reach towards her. Her agony is without reward!

  ‘Libussa! Throw away the Sword and we shall be united!’

  ‘NO!’

  The ruby pommel has touched the rim of the Grail for the third time.

  The Messiah is still-born…

  The ruby crystal burst with such deafening loudness it seemed to shatter my ears and drowned the booming voice of the Grail. Libussa paused. She was startled. Her mouth opened but she did not speak. The Grail grew silent. Slowly its light withdrew into it, then faded until it was just an ordinary, antique battle-hat again. Libussa plucked it from the air. She stared abstractedly from it to me. I began to climb to my feet. My body was so sore, so lacerated, so reddened by strange wounds about the throat, shoulders and thighs that I groaned in my distress and my despair.

  She raised the ruined Sword again, turning towards me. Her eyes had lost their heat and her lovely breasts lifted and fell even more rapidly than mine. I moved towards her, to embrace her or be slain, I did not care.

  ‘You were coward too long,’ she said. ‘You allowed the moment to pass.’

  ‘No, Libussa. You should have slain the Beast. Is that what Montsorbier brought up from the depths?’

  ‘I saw nothing. I knew not what he brought.’

  ‘You did not see the lion?’

  She shook her head.

  ‘It was the Beast,’ I said. ‘The Grail protested.’ It had grown very cold. ‘Those who would harness the power of the Beast to rule their fellows shall be destroyed by it. Maria the Jewess gave the warning in all her writings. You must remember.’

  She stiffened like steel plunged in ice. She drew her wonderful brows together, looking down to the shattered ruby at her feet. Something moved there. It was a tiny, fluttering creature, a Phoenix…

  No, it was the eagle, released at last from his captivity. It was the Beast within the Sword! Now I understood the pattern and I was afraid. I reached out to her but she ignored me. I believed I had no importance for her since I had failed to keep my bargain. She grinned as she dropped the sword and stooped to cup her hands around the bird. It screeched. It resisted. It was all noisy anger. She imprisoned it within her palms, looking at it through a chink in her fingers, then placing this cage to her ear, she listened.

  ‘Libussa!’

  Could I be of so little worth to her? Would she discard me so completely? I saw no reason why she should not. In her eyes I had failed to accept the greatest challenge offered to humankind.

  The Crucible had grown cold. I stepped out into warmer darkness, cheered by an ordinary heat, the heat from the furnace and the ashes. That fire was almost spent.

  Overhead traceries of light formed a pure and rational geometry. In wonderment I looked upon perfection. All we had sought to achieve was shown to be rude savagery in comparison.

  ‘Libussa!’ I wanted her to see so that she would know and be heartened. ‘Libussa!’ But she remained within the Crucible, speaking in a low voice to her miniature king of birds.

  I looked up into the mighty tranquillity of a fully ordered universe. I began to weep.

  Then suddenly she was shouting.

  ‘There is still time!’

  Bursting from the Crucible she rushed through billowing ash towards the black cross. The vile gibbet still stood where we left it. Out of the drifting dust figures began to rise, the last of her congregation. Dust clung to her naked body. I called to her, but she did not hear. She would not hear me. I had ceased to exist. ‘Libussa! Stop!’ I still loved her.

  Her followers began slowly to stumble or crawl in the direction of the cross. Their filthy bodies, their wretched faces, their horrible, weakling eyes, caused me to wonder if I resembled them now. Had that been my true destiny?

  She turned with her back to the cross. What could she be planning? To begin the ritual over. It was too late. The Concordance was here. She called out.

  ‘Come!’

  From behind me I heard an echoing shriek; a shriek which displayed a fierce thirst for revenge. How long had that bird been locked within the sword? Had Paracelsus harnessed the Beast or had the Sword been forged during an earlier Concordance? It shrieked again, reminding me of Klosterheim’s scream as he fell towards this very spot. Had my old enemy been reincarnated so quickly?

  I turned towards the Crucible. The metal had cooled and the horrid fire was out, but from within the sphere, his great
body framed for a moment against the fading luminosity within, his eyes as mad and wounded as Libussa’s, the spines of his feathers rattling as he shook his huge wings, strutted a massive golden eagle. Without pausing he took to the air. He was the shining one now. He it was who seemed made all of copper and brass as he beat his way up into that brilliant night. He had been born and reached maturity thanks to the last shreds of our Crucible’s magic!

  Libussa’s body was flat against the black, charred wood of the cross. Her gaze followed the eagle’s flight. Up he went towards the orderly web of starlight. Higher and higher he flew until he had vanished. I sighed in relief, unable to guess why I feared him more than I had feared anything else.

  ‘Libussa, I love you. Come from this place. There is yet hope…’ I wanted her so much. Still, I would have died for her. ‘There is work you and I can do, Libussa. The Grail would aid us, if we obeyed its rules…’

  ‘I shall make the only rules, von Bek! You hesitated. You failed us both.’

  ‘I warned you against the Beast. Come away from here, Libussa. I beg you. Accept my love…’

  ‘What does that mean, von Bek?’ She shivered, her whole body blue with cold. She stretched up and tried to touch the horizontal timber with her finger-tips. She turned back. ‘If you would serve me still, you must re-crucify me! Will you prove your love by doing that?’

  Helplessly, I said, ‘I will do anything, Libussa. You still cannot understand.’

  ‘Good. Then help me up, man!’

  ‘There’s even less meaning to this ritual,’ I told her softly. ‘The moment’s gone. You said so. It is true.’

  All her old authority returned to her voice. ‘If you love me as you say, von Bek, you will do as I ask.’

  I obey you. I shall always obey you. Upon your instructions your servants replace the Crucible upon its tumbril and roll it until it stands at the base of the cross. Climbing on this we help you back to your original position. The nails are in my hand. You display your stigmata. The holes go clean through you, but they do not bleed. It is not difficult to replace the nails so that you hang, almost in contentment, breathing with difficulty, your head upon your shoulder, your eyes looking up at the myriad intersecting streams of light. ‘Thank you, von Bek,’ you say. ‘You may leave me now.’