n't I tell  you
that  there  is little difference between this modern  Satanism  and
Voodoo?  We might almost be witnessing some heathen ceremony  in  an
African jungle!'
  While  the  crowd had been busy at the tables, their  leaders  had
donned fantastic costumes. One had a huge cat mask over his head and
a  furry  cloak, the tail of which dangled behind him on the ground;
another wore the headdress of a repellent toad; the face of a third,
still  masked, gleamed bluish for a moment in the candle-light  from
between  the distended jaws of a wolf, and Mocata, whom  they  could
still recognise by his squat obesity, now had webbed wings sprouting
from his shoulders which gave him the appearance of a giant bat.
  Rex  shivered. 'It's that infernal cold again rising up the hill,'
he  said  half-apologetically. 'Say-look at the thing on the throne.
It's changing shape.'
  Until  the  candles  had  been lit, the  pale  violet  halo  which
emanated  from the figure had been enough to show that it was  human
and the face undoubtedly black. But, as they watched, it changed  to
a  greyish  colour, and something was happening to the formation  of
the head.
  'It  is  the  Goat of Mendes, Rex!' whispered the Duke.  'My  God!
this is horrible!' And even as he spoke, the manifestation took on a
clearer  shape;  the hands, held forward almost in  an  attitude  of
prayer but turned downward, became transformed into two great cloven
hoofs.  Above  rose the monstrous bearded head of a  gigantic  goat,
appearing  to  be at least three times the size of any  other  which
they  had  ever seen. The two slit-eyes, slanting inwards and  down,
gave  out a red baleful light. Long pointed ears cocked upwards from
the  sides of the shaggy head, and from the bald, horrible unnatural
bony  skull,  which  was caught by the light of  the  candles,  four
enormous curved horns spread out-sideways and up.
  Before  the  apparition  the  priests,  grotesque  and  terrifying
beneath  their beast-head masks and furry mantles, were now swinging
lighted  censers, and after a little a breath of the noisome incense
was wafted up the slope.
  Rex  choked  into  his hand as the fumes caught his  throat,  then
whispered: 'What is that filth they're burning?'
  'Thorn,  apple leaves, rue, henbane, dried nightshade, myrtle  and
other  herbs,' De Richleau answered. 'Some are harmless  apart  from
their stench, but others drug the brain and excite the senses to  an
animal  fury of lust and eroticism as you will see soon  enough.  If
only we could catch sight of Simon,' he added desperately.
  'Look, there he is!' Rex exclaimed. 'Just to the left of the toad-
headed brute.'
  The  goat  rose, towering above the puny figures of its unhallowed
priests,  and  turned  its  back on them;  upon  which  one  stooped
slightly  to  give  the osculam-infame as his mark  of  homage.  The
others  followed  suit, then the whole circle of Satanists  drew  in
towards  the throne and, in solemn silence, followed their  example,
each  bending to salute his master in an obscene parody of the  holy
kiss which is given to the Bishop's ring.
  Simon  was  among the last, and as he approached the  throne,  Rex
grabbed  De Richleau's arm. 'It's now or never,' he grunted.  'We've
got to make some effort. We can't let this thing go through.'
  'Hush,' De Richleau whispered back. This is not the baptism.  That
will not be until after they have feasted-just before the orgy.  Our
chance must come.'
  As  the two lay there in the rough grass, each knew that the  time
was  close  at  hand  when they must act if they  meant  to  attempt
Simon's  rescue. Yet, despite the fact that neither of  them  lacked
courage,  both realised with crushing despondency how slender  their
chances  of success would be if they ran down the slope and  charged
that multitude immersed in their ghoulish rites. There were at least
a  hundred people in that black-robed crowd and it seemed  an  utter
impossibility to overcome such odds.
  Rex  leaned  over towards the Duke and voiced his thoughts  aloud,
'We're  right  up  against it this time unless  you  can  produce  a
brainwave. We'd be captured in ten seconds if we tried getting Simon
away from this bunch of maniacs.'
  'I  know,'  De Richleau agreed miserably. 'I did not  bargain  for
them  all being shut up together in one room in that house or coming
on  to  this place in a solid crowd. If only they would split  up  a
little  we might isolate Simon with just two or three of them,  down
the  rest,  and  get him away before the main party  knew  what  was
happening;  but  as things are I am worried out of my  wits.  If  we
charge in, and they catch us, I have not a single doubt but that  we
should never be allowed to come up out of this hollow alive. We know
too  much,  and  they would kill us for a certainty. In  fact,  they
would probably welcome the chance on a night like this to perform  a
little  human sacrifice in front of that ghastly thing on the stones
there.'
  'Surely  they wouldn't go in for murder even if they  do  practise
this filthy parody of religion?' whispered Rex incredulously.
  De  Richleau shook his head. 'The Bloody Sacrifice is  the  oldest
magical  rite  in the world. The slaying of Osiris and  Adonis,  the
mutilation  of  Attis and the cults of Mexico  and  Peru,  were  all
connected  with  it. Even in the Old Testament  you  read  that  the
sacrifice  which was most acceptable to God the Father  was  one  of
blood,  and  St. Paul tells us that "Without the shedding  of  blood
there is no remission".'
  'That was just ancient heathen cruelty.'
  'Not  altogether.  The  blood  is  the  Life.  When  it  is  shed,
energy-animal  or  human  as the case may be-is  released  into  the
atmosphere.  If it is shed within a specially prepared circle,  that
energy can be caught and stored or redirected in precisely the  same
way  as  electric  energy  is  caught and  utilised  by  our  modern
scientists.'
  'But they wouldn't dare to sacrifice a human being?'
  'It  all depends upon the form of evil they wish to bring upon the
world.  If it is war they will seek to propitiate Mars with a virgin
ram; if they desire the spread of unbridled lust-a goat, and so  on.
But  the  human sacrifice is more potent for all purposes  than  any
other,  and  these wretched people are hardly human at  the  moment.
Their  brains are diseased and their mentality is that of  the  hags
and warlocks of the Dark Ages.'
  'Oh,  Hell!'  Rex groaned, 'we've simply got to get Simon  out  of
this some way.'
  The  Goat  turned  round  again after  receiving  the  last  kiss,
holding  between its hoofs a wooden cross about four feet in length.
With  a  sudden  violent motion it dashed the crucifix  against  the
stone,  breaking  it into two pieces. Then the cat-headed  man,  who
seemed  to  be acting the part of Chief Priest, picked them  up.  He
threw  the  broken  end of the shaft towards a  waiting  group,  who
pounced  upon it and smashed it into matchwood with silent ferocity,
while  he planted the crucifix end upside down in the ground  before
the  Goat.  This  apparently concluded  the  first  portion  of  the
ceremony.
  The  Satanists  now hurried over to the tables where  the  banquet
was  spread  out.  No  knives, forks,  spoons  or  glasses  were  in
evidence. But this strange party, governed apparently by a desire to
throw  themselves back into a state of bestiality, grabbed  handfuls
of  food  out of the silver dishes and, seizing the bottles,  tilted
them  to drink from the necks, gurgling and spitting as they did  so
and  spilling the wine down their dominoes. Not one of them spoke  a
word,  and  the  whole macabre scene was carried out in  a  terrible
unnatural silence, as though it were a picture by Goya come to life.
  'Let's,  creep down nearer,' whispered the Duke. 'While  they  are
gorging  themselves an opportunity may come for us to  get  hold  of
Simon.  If  he moves a few paces away from them for a moment,  don't
try to argue with him, but knock him out.'
  At  a  stealthy crawl, the two friends moved down the hillside  to
within  twenty yards of the little lake, at the side  of  which  the
tables were set. The throne still occupied by the monstrous goat was
only a further fifteen yards away from them, and by the light of the
twelve  black candles burning with an unnaturally steady flame  even
in  that  protected  hollow  among the hills,  they  could  see  the
clustered  figures sufficiently well to recognise  those  whom  they
knew among them despite their masks and dominoes.
  Simon, like the rest, was gnawing at a chunk of food as though  he
had  suddenly  turned  into  an animal, and,  as  they  watched,  he
snatched  a  bottle  of  wine from a masked woman  standing  nearby,
spilling  a good portion of its contents over her and himself;  then
he gulped down the rest.
  For a few moments Rex felt again that he must be suffering from  a
nightmare. It seemed utterly beyond understanding that any  cultured
man  like  Simon,  or  other civilised people  such  as  these  must
normally be, could behave with such appalling bestiality. But it was
no  nightmare.  In  that  strange,  horrid  silence,  the  Satanists
continued for more than half an hour to fight and tumble like a pack
of  wolfish dogs until the tables had been overthrown and the ground
about  the  lakeside was filthy with the remaining scraps  of  food,
gnawed bones and empty bottles.
  At  last  Simon, apparently three parts drunk, lurched  away  from
the  crash  and flung himself down on the grass a little apart  from
the rest, burying his head between his hands.
  'Now!' whispered the Duke. 'We've got to get him.'
  With  Rex beside him, he half rose to his feet, but a tall  figure
had  broken from the mass and reached Simon before they could  move.
It was the man with the mutilated ear, and in another second a group
of  two  women  and. three more men had followed  him.  De  Richleau
gritted his teeth to suppress an oath and placed a restraining  hand
on Rex's shoulder.
  'It's  no  good,'  he  muttered savagely. 'We  must  wait  a  bit.
Another chance may come.' And they sank down again into the shadows.
  The  group  about the tables was now reeling drunk, and the  whole
party  in  a body surged back towards the Goat upon its throne.  Rex
and  De Richleau had been watching Simon so intently they had failed
to notice until then that Mocata and the half dozen other masters of
the  Left Hand Path had erected a special table before the Goat, and
were  feeding  from it. Yet they appeared strangely  sober  compared
with the majority of the crowd who had fed beside the lake.
  'So the Devil feeds, too,' Rex murmured.
  'Yes,'  agreed the Duke, 'or at least the heads of his priesthood,
and  a  gruesome meal it is if I know anything about  it.  A  little
cannibalism,  my friend. It may be a stillborn baby or perhaps  some
unfortunate  child that they have stolen and murdered, but  I  would
stake anything that it is human flesh they are eating.'
  As  he spoke, a big cauldron was brought forward and placed before
the  throne. Then Mocata and the others with him each took a portion
of  the  food which they had been eating from the table and cast  it
into the great iron pot. One of them threw in a round ball which met
the iron with a dull thud.
  Rex  shuddered as he realised that the Duke was right.  The  round
object was a human skull.
  'They're  going to boil up the remains with various other things,'
murmured  the  Duke, 'and then each of them will be given  a  little
flask of that awful brew at the conclusion of the ceremony, together
with a pile of ashes from the wood fire they are lighting under  the
cauldron  now.  They  will be able to use them  for  their  infamous
purposes  throughout  the  year until the next  Great  Sabbat  takes
place.'
  'Oh,  Hell!'  Rex protested. 'I can't believe that they  can  work
any  harm with that human mess, however horrid it may be. It's  just
not reasonable.'
  'Yet  you believe that the Blessed Sacrament has power for  good,'
De  Richleau whispered. 'This is the antithesis of the Body  of  Our
Lord,  and  I  assure  you,  Rex, that,  while  countless  wonderful
miracles have been performed by the aid of the Host, terrible things
can be accomplished by this blasphemous decoction.'
  Rex  had  no  deep  religious feeling,  but  he  was  shocked  and
horrified to the depths of his being by this frightful parody of the
things he had been taught to hold sacred in his childhood.
  'Dear God,' muttered the Duke, 'they are about to commit the  most
appalling sacrilege. Don't look, Rex-don't look.' He buried his face
in  his  hands and began to pray, but Rex continued to watch despite
himself, his gaze held by some terrible fascination.
  A  great  silver chalice was being passed from hand to  hand,  and
very  soon  he realised the purpose to which it was being  put,  but
could  not guess the intention until it was handed back to the  cat-
headed  man.  One  of the other officiating priests  at  the  infamy
produced  some  round white discs which Rex recognised  at  once  as
Communion Wafers-evidently stolen from some church.
  In  numbed horror he watched the Devil's acolytes break these into
pieces  and  throw  them into the brimming chalice,  then  stir  the
mixture with the broken crucifix and hand the resulting compound  to
the  Goat, who, clasping it between its great cloven hoofs, suddenly
tipped it up so that the whole contents was spilled upon the ground.
  Suddenly, at last, the horrid silence was rent, for the whole  mob
surged  forward  shouting  and screaming as  though  they  had  gone
insane, to dance and stamp the fragments of the Holy Wafers into the
sodden earth.
  'Phew!'   Rex  choked  out,  wiping  the  perspiration  from   his
forehead.  'This is a ghastly business. I can't stand much  more  of
it. They're mad, stark crazy, every mother's son of them.'
  'Yes,  temporarily.'The  Duke looked up again.'Some  of  them  are
probably epileptics, and nearly all must be abnormal. This revolting
spectacle  represents  a release of all their pent-up  emotions  and
suppressed   complexes,   engendered  by  brooding   over   imagined
injustice, lust for power, bitter hatred of rivals in love  or  some
other type of success and good fortune. That is the only explanation
for  this  terrible  exhibition  of human  depravity  which  we  are
witnessing.'
  'Thank  God, Tanith's not here. She couldn't have stood it.  She'd
have  gone  mad,  I  know, or tried to run  away.  And  then  they'd
probably  have  murdered her. But what are  we  going  to  do  about
Simon?'
  De  Richleau groaned. 'God only knows. If I thought there were the
least hope, we'd charge into this rabble and try to drag him out  of
it, but the second they saw us they would tear us limb from limb.'
  The  fire  under  the cauldron was burning brightly,  and  as  the
crowd  moved  apart  Rex  saw that a dozen women  had  now  stripped
themselves  of their dominoes and stood stark naked in  the  candle-
light.  They formed a circle round the cauldron, and holding  hands,
with  their  backs turned to the inside of the ring,  began  a  wild
dance around it anti-clockwise towards the Devil's left.
  In  a  few  moments  the  whole company  had  stripped  off  their
dominoes  and  joined  in the dance, tumbling  and  clawing  at  one
another  before the throne, with the exception of half a  dozen  who
sat a little on one side, each with a musical instrument, forming  a
small band. But the music which they made was like no other that Rex
had  ever  heard before, and he prayed that he might never hear  the
like again. Instead of melody, it was a harsh, discordant jumble  of
notes  and  broken chords which beat into the head with  a  horrible
nerve-racking intensity and set the teeth continually on edge.
  To  this  agonising cacophony of sound the dancers, still  masked,
quite  naked and utterly silent but for the swift movement of  their
feet,  continued their wild, untimed gyrations, so that rather  than
the  changing pattern of an ordered ballet the scene was  one  of  a
trampling mass of bestial animal figures.
  Drunk  with  an  inverted  spiritual  exaltation  and  excess   of
alcohol-wild-eyed and apparently hardly conscious of each  other-the
hair  of  the  women streaming disordered as they pranced,  and  the
panting  breath of the men coming in laboured gasps-they rolled  and
lurched,  spun  and  gyrated, toppled, fell,  picked  themselves  up
again,  and leaped with renewed frenzy in one revolting carnival  of
mad  disorder. Then, with a final wailing screech from  the  violin,
the  band  ceased and the whole party flung themselves  panting  and
exhausted  upon the ground, while the huge Goat rattled and  clacked
its  monstrous cloven hoofs together and gave a weird laughing neigh
in a mockery of applause.
  De  Richleau sat up quickly. 'God help us, Rex, but we've  got  to
do  something  now. When these swine have recovered their  wind  the
next  act  of  this horror will be the baptism of the Neophytes  and
after  that the foulest orgy, with every perversion which the  human
mind  is  capable  of conceiving. We daren't wait any  longer.  Once
Simon is baptised, we shall have lost our last chance ot saving  him
from permanent and literal Hell in this life and the next.'
  'I  suppose  it's  just possible we'll pull  it  off  now  they've
worked themselves into this state?' Rex hazarded doubtfully.
  'Yes,  they're  looking  pretty done  at  the  moment,'  the  Duke
agreed,  striving to bolster up his waning courage for the desperate
attempt.
  'Shall  we-shall we chance it?' Rex hesitated. He too  was  filled
with  a horrible fear as to the fate which might overtake them  once
they  left the friendly shadows to dash into that ring of evil  blue
light.  In an effort to steady his frayed nerves, he gave a travesty
of  a  laugh, and added: 'The odds aren't quite so heavy against  us
now they've lost their trousers. No one fights his best like that.'
  'It's  not  the pack that I'm so frightened of, but  that  ghastly
thing  sitting  on the rocks.' De Richleau's voice  was  hoarse  and
desperate.  'The  protections I have utilised may not  prove  strong
enough to save us from the evil which is radiating from it.'
  'If we have faith,' gasped Rex, 'won't that be enough?'
  De  Richleau shivered. The numbing cold which lapped up out of the
hollow in icy waves seemed to sap all his strength and courage.
  'It  would,' he muttered. 'It would if we were both in a state  of
grace.'
  At  that pronouncement Rex's heart sank. He had no terrible secret
crime  with which to charge himself, but although circumstances  had
appeared  to justify it at the time, both he and the Duke had  taken
human  life,  and who, faced with the actual doorway  of  the  other
world, can say that they are utterly without sin?
  Desperately  now  he fought to regain his normal courage.  In  the
dell the Satanists had recovered their wind and were forming in  the
great semi-circle again about the throne. The chance to rescue Simon
was  passing  with  the fleeting seconds, while  his  friends  stood
crouched  and tongue-tied, their minds bemused by the  reek  of  the
noxious  incense  which  floated up from the  hollow,  their  bodies
chained by an awful, overwhelming fear.
  Three  figures now moved out into the open space before the  Goat.
Upon  the left the beast-like, cat-headed high priest of Evil;  upon
the  right Mocata, his gruesome bat's wings fluttering a little from
his  hunched-up  shoulders; between them, naked,  trembling,  almost
apparently in a state of collapse, they supported Simon.
  'It's now or never!' Rex choked out.
  'No-I  can't  do  it,' moaned the Duke, burying his  face  in  his
hands  and sinking to the ground. 'I'm afraid, Rex. God forgive  me,
I'm afraid.'


                                 17

                           Evil Triumphant

  As  the  blue Rolls, number OA 1217, came to rest with a sickening
thud  against  the back of the big barn outside Easter-ton  Village,
Tanith  was  flung forward against the windscreen.  Fortunately  the
Duke's  cars  were  equipped with splinter-proof glass  and  so  the
windows remained intact, but for the moment she was half-stunned  by
the  blow  on  her head and painfully 'winded' by the  wheel,  which
caught her in the stomach.
  For  a  few  sickening seconds she remained dazed and gasping  for
breath.  Then she realised that she had escaped serious injury,  and
that  the  police would be on her at any moment. Her head  whirling,
her  breath stabbing painfully, she threw open the door of the Rolls
and staggered out on to the grass.
  In  a  last desperate effort to evade capture, she lurched  at  an
unsteady  run across the coarse tussocks and just as the torches  of
the police appeared over the same hillock, which had slowed down the
wild career of the car, she flung herself down in a ditch, sheltered
by a low hedge, some thirty yards from the scene of the accident.
  She  paused there only long enough to regain her breath, and  then
began  to  crawl away along the runnel until it ended  on  the  open
plain.  Taking a stealthy look over the hedge, she saw her  pursuers
were still busy examining the car, so she took a chance and ran  for
it, trusting in the darkness of the night to hide her from them.
  After  she had covered a mile she flopped exhausted to the ground,
drawing  short gulping breaths into her straining lungs  -her  heart
thudding like a hammer. When she had recovered a little, she  looked
back  to  find that the village and the searching officers were  now
hidden from her by a sloping crest of down-land. It seemed that  she
had escaped-at least for the time being-and she began to wonder what
she had better do.
  From  what she remembered of the map, the house at Chil-bury where
the Satanists were gathering preparatory to holding the Great Sabbat
was  at least a dozen miles away. It would be impossible for her  to
cover  that  distance  on  foot even if  she  were  certain  of  the
direction in which it lay, and the fact that she was wanted  by  the
police  debarred her from trying to seek a lift in a passing car  if
she were able to find the main road again. In spite of her desperate
attempt to reach the rendezvous in the stolen Rolls, and the frantic
excitement of her escape from the police, she found to her  surprise
that  a  sudden  reaction had set in, and she no  longer  felt  that
terrible driving urge to be present at the Sabbat.
  Her  anger against Rex had subsided. She had tricked him over  the
car,  and he had retaliated by putting the police on her track.  She
realised  now  that  he could only have done it on  account  of  his
overwhelming anxiety to prevent her from joining Mocata, and  smiled
to  herself  in  the darkness as she thought again of  his  anxious,
worried face as he had tried so hard that afternoon on the river  to
dissuade her from what she had only considered, till then, to  be  a
logical step in her progress towards gaining supernatural powers.
  She  began  to wonder seriously for the first time if he  was  not
right,  and  that during these last months which she had spent  with
Madame  D'Urfe her brain had become clouded almost to the  point  of
mania  by  this  obsession  to  the exclusion  of  all  natural  and
reasonable  thoughts. She recalled those queer companions  who  were
travelling  the  same  path as herself, most  of  them  far  further
advanced upon it, of whom she had seen so much hi recent times.  The
man  with the hare-lip, the one-armed Eurasian, the Albino  and  the
Babu.  They  were  not  normal any one of  them  and,  while  living
outwardly  the ordinary life of monied people, dwelt secretly  in  a
strange sinister world of their own, flattering themselves and  each
other  upon their superiority to normal men and women on account  of
the  strange powers that they possessed, yet egotistical  and  hard-
hearted to the last degree.
  This  day spent with the buoyant, virile Rex among the fresh green
of  the countryside and the shimmering sunlight of the river's bank,
had  altered  Tanith's view of them entirely; and now,  in  a  great
revulsion  of  feeling, she could only wonder that her  longing  for
power and forgetfulness of her foreordained death had blinded her to
their cruel way of life for so long.
  She  stood up and, smoothing down her crumpled green linen  frock,
did  her  best to tidy herself. But she had lost her bag in the  car
smash,  so not only was she moneyless but had no comb with which  to
do  her  hair.  However,  feeling that  now  Rex  had  succeeded  in
preventing  her reaching the meeting-place he would  be  certain  to
call off the police, she set out at a brisk pace away from Easterton
towards  where she believed the main Salisbury-Devizes road to  lie;
hoping  to find a temporary shelter for the night and then make  her
way back to London in the morning.
  Before  she had gone two hundred yards, her way was blocked  by  a
tail, barbed-wire fence shutting in some military enclosure, so  she
turned  left along it. Two hundred yards farther on the fence ended,
but she was again brought up by another fence and above it the steep
embankment  of  a railway line. She hesitated then, not  wishing  to
turn back in the direction of Easter-ton, and was wondering what  it
would be best to do, when a dark, hunched figure seemed to form  out
of  the  shadows beside her. She started back, but recovered herself
at once on realising that it was only a bent old woman.
  'You've lost your way, dearie?' croaked the old crone.
  'Yes,'  Tanith  admitted. 'Can you show me how I  get  on  to  the
Devizes road?'
  'Come  with me, my pretty.. I am going that way myself,' said  the
old  woman in a husky voice, which seemed to Tanith in some  strange
way vaguely familiar.
  'Thank  you.'  She  turned and walked along the  bridle-path  that
followed the embankment to the west, searching her mind as to  where
she could have heard that husky voice before.
  'Give  me  your hand, dearie. The way is rough for my  old  feet,'
croaked  the  ancient crone; and Tanith willingly offered  her  arm.
Then,  as  the old woman rested a claw upon it, a sudden  memory  of
long ago flooded her mind.
  It  was of the days when, as a little girl living in the foothills
of  the Carpathians, she had made a friend of an old gypsy-woman who
used  to  come  to the village for the fair and local Saints'  Days,
with  her  band  of Ziganes. It was from her that Tanith  had  first
learned her strange powers of clairvoyance and second sight. Many  a
time she had scrambled down from the rocky mount upon which her home
was  set  to the gypsy encampment outside the village to  gaze  with
marvelling eyes at old Mizka who knew so many wonderful things,  and
could  tell of the past and of the future by gazing into a glass  of
water or consulting her grimy pack of Tarot cards.
  Tanith   could  still  see  those  pasteboards  which   had   such
fascinating  pictures upon them. The twenty-two cards of  the  Major
Arcana,  said  by some to be copies of the original Book  of  Thoth,
which  contained all wisdom and was given to mankind by the  ancient
ibis-headed Egyptian god. For thousands of years such packs had been
treasured and reproduced from one end of the world to the other  and
were  treasured still, from the boudoirs of modern Paris to the tea-
houses of Shanghai, wherever people came secretly in the quiet hours
to learn, from those who could read them, the secrets of the future.
  As  she  walked  on  half  unconscious of her  strange  companion,
Tanith  recalled them in their right and fateful order. The  Juggler
with  his table-meaning mental rectitude; the High Priestess like  a
female   Pope-wisdom;   the   Empress-night   and   darkness;    the
Emperor-support  and protection; the Pope-reunion and  society;  the
Lovers-marriage; iheChariot-triumph and despotism; Justice, a winged
figure  with sword and scales-the law, the Hermit with his lantern-a
pointer  towards good; the Wheel of Fortune carrying  a  cat  and  a
demon  round with it-success and wealth; Strength, a woman wrenching
open the jaws of a lion-power and sovereignty; the Hanged Man lashed
by  his right ankle tp a beam and dangling upside down while holding
two money bags-warning to be prudent; Death with his scythe-ruin and
destruction;  Temperance, a woman pouring liquid from  one  vase  to
another-moderation; the Devil, batwinged, goatfaced,  with  a  human
head  protruding from his belly-force and blindness; the  Lightning-
struck   Tower  with  people  falling  from  it-want,  poverty   and
imprisonment;   the  Star-disinterestedness;  the  Moon~speech   and
lunacy; the Sun-light and science; the Judgement-typifying will; the
World, a naked woman with goat and ram below-travel and possessions;
then  last  but  not  least the card that has no number,  the  Fool,
foretelling dementia, rapture and extravagance.
  Old  Mizka  had been a willing teacher, and Tanith, the child,  an
eager  pupil, for she had spent a lonely girlhood in that castle  on
the  hill separated by miles of jagged valleys difficult to traverse
from  other children of her own postion, and debarred by custom from
adopting the children of the villagers as her playmates. Long before
her time she had learned all the secrets of life from the old gipsy,
who  talked for hours in her husky voice of lovers and marriage  and
lovers again, and potions to bring sleep to suspicious husbands  and
philtres  which could warm the heart of the coldest  man  towards  a
woman who desired his caresses.
  'Mizka," Tanith whispered suddenly. 'It is you-isn't it?'
  'Yes,  dearie.  Yes-old Mizka has come a long way tonight  to  set
her pretty one upon the road.'
  'But how did you ever come to England?'
  'No  matter,  dearie. Don't trouble your golden head  about  that,
Old  Mizka started you upon the road, and she has been sent to guide
your feet tonight.'
  Tanith  hung back for a second in sudden alarm, but the claw  upon
her  arm  urged  her  forward  again with  gentle  strength  as  she
protested.
  'But I don't want to go! Not... not to the .,.'
  The  old crone chuckled. 'What foolishness is this? It is the road
that  you have taken all your life, ever since Mizka told you of  it
as  a little girl. Tonight is the night that old Mizka has seen  for
so  many  years  in  her dreams-the night when you  shall  know  all
things,  and be granted powers which come to few. How fortunate  you
are to have this opportunity when you are yet so young.'
  At  the  old  woman's  silken words,  a  new  feeling  crept  into
Tanith's heart. She had been dwelling upon Rex's face as she crossed
the  plain,  and all the health-giving freshness of  his  gay  clean
modernity, but now she was drawn back into another world; the one of
which  she  had  thought so long, in which a very few chosen  people
could  perform  the  seemingly  impossible  -bend  others  to  their
will-cause  them  to fall or rise-place unaccountable  obstacles  in
their path at every turn, or smooth their way to a glorious success.
That  was more than riches, more than fame; the supreme pinnacle  to
which  any  man  or woman could rise, and all her longing  to  reach
those  heights before she died came back to her. Rex was a pleasant,
stupid  child; De Richleau a meddlesome fool, who did not understand
the  danger  of  the things with which he was trying  to  interfere.
Mocata  was  a  Prince  in  power  and  knowledge.  She  should   be
unutterably grateful that he had considered her worthy of the honour
which she was about to receive.
  'It  is not far, dearie. Not so far as you have thought. The great
Festival does not take place in the house at Chilbury. That was only
a  meeting place, and the Sabbat is to be held upon these downs only
a  few  miles  from  here. Come with me, and you shall  receive  the
knowledge and the power that you seek.'
  A  curtain  of  forgetfuiness seemed to be falling  over  Tanith's
mind-a  feeling of intoxication-mental and physical, flooded through
her.  She  felt her eyes closing . . . closing ... as she  muttered:
'Yes.  Knowledge and Power. Hurry, Mizka! Hurry, or we shall be  too
late,'
  All  her  previous  hesitations had  now  been  blotted  out,  and
although they were walking over coarse grass, it seemed to her  that
they  trod  a smooth and even way. Her mind was obsessed again  with
the sole thought of reaching the Sabbat in time.
  'That  is  my  own  beautiful one talking now,'  crooned  the  old
beldame  in a honeyed voice. 'But have no fear, the night is  young,
and  we shall reach the meeting-place of the Covens before the  hour
when our Master will appear.'
  Tanith was holding herself stiffly as she walked. Her golden  head
thrown back, her eyes dilated to an enormous size-the muscles at the
sides  of  her mouth twitched incessantly as the old woman's  smooth
babble flowed on.
  They crossed the road, although Tanith was hardly conscious of  it
as,  with Mizka beside her, she stepped out, a new strength  surging
through her despite her long and tiring day. Then as she mounted  an
earthy bank a dark and furry presence brushed against her legs,  and
looking down she saw the golden eyes of a great black cat.
  For  a moment she was startled, but the old woman chuckled in  the
darkness. 'It is only Nebiros,' she muttered. 'You have played  with
him often as a child, dearie, and he is so pleased to see you now.'
  The  cat  mewed with pleasure as Tanith stooped for  a  moment  to
stroke its furry back. Then they hastened on again.
  For  hours  it  seemed they tramped over the grassy  tussocks,  up
gently-sloping  hills and down again into lonesome valleys  unbroken
by  trees  or  cottages or farmsteads, ever on to the  secret  place
where the Satanists would be gathering now, until old Mizka, walking
at  Tanith's left, suddenly pulled up-clutching at her arm with  her
bony hand.
  'Shut  your  eyes, dearie,' she hissed in a sharp  whisper.  'Shut
your  eyes. There is something here that it is not good for  you  to
see. I will guide you.'
  Tanith did as she was bid mechanically, and although she could  no
longer  see the rough ground over which they were passing,  she  did
not stumble but continued to step forward evenly at a good pace. Yet
she  had a feeling that she was no longer alone with the old  woman,
but that a third person was now walking with them at her right hand.
Then, a low voice, bell-like and clear, sounded in her ears.
  'Tanith, my darling. Look at me, I implore you.'
  At  the shock of hearing that well-loved voice, the curtain lifted
for a moment and Tanith opened her eyes again. To her right, she saw
the  figure of her mother dressed in white as she had last seen  her
before she had set out to some great party where she had died  of  a
sudden  heart attack. Round her neck hung a rope of pearls, and  her
head was adorned with a half-hoop of diamond stars. The figure shone
by some strange unnatural light in the surrounding darkness, seeming
as pure and translucent as carved crystal.
  'My  dear  one,' the voice went on, 'my folly of encouraging  your
gift  of second sight has led you into terrible peril. I beg you  by
all that is good and holy to draw back while there is yet time.'
  Despite  the  urging  hand  which  clawed  upon  her  arm,  Tanith
stumbled for the first time in the long grass and, wrenching her arm
away,  stood  still. In a flash of insight which seared through  her
drugged brain, she knew then that old Mizka was not a living  being,
but a Dark Angel sent to lead her to the Sabbat, and that her mother
had  come at this moment from the world beyond as an Angel of  Light
to  draw  her  back  again into the safety and  protection  of  holy
things.
  Mizka  was  babbling and crowing upon her left, urging her  onward
with  a  terrible force and intensity. The words 'power'  -'crowning
your  life'-'mastery  of  all' came again and  again  in  her  rapid
speech,  and  Tanith  moved a few steps forward.  But  her  mother's
voice, imploring again, came clearly in her ears.
  Tanith, my darling, I am only allowed to appear to you because  of
your  great  danger, and for the briefest space. I  am  called  back
already, but I beg you in the name of the love that we had for  each
other, not to go. There is a better influence in your life. Trust in
it  while  there is still time, otherwise you will be  dragged  down
into  the  pit  and we shall never meet again.' Suddenly  the  voice
changed, becoming cold and commanding, 'Back, Mizka-back whence  you
came.  I  order you by the names of Isis, mother of Horus, Kwan-Yin,
mother of Hau-Ki, and Mary, mother of Our Lord.'
  The  voice  ceased on a thin wall as though, all unwillingly,  the
spirit  had  been drawn back while its abjuration to the  demon  was
only  half completed. With a wild cry and arms outstretched,  Tanith
dashed forward to the place where that nebulous moon-white being had
floated,  but where the apparition of her mother had been  a  second
before, only a little breeze ruffled the long grasses. A feeling  of
immense fatigue bowed her shoulders as she turned towards old  Mizka
and the cat. But they too had vanished.
  She  sank  upon her knees and began to pray, feverishly  at  first
and  then less strongly, until her tongue tripped upon the words and
at  last she fell silent. Almost unconsciously she rose to her  feet
and  found  herself,  the night wind playing  gently  in  her  hair,
standing upon a hilltop gazing down into a shallow
  valley.
  A  new  and terrible fear gripped at her heart, for she saw  below
her,  by the strange unearthly light of a ring of blue candles,  the
Satanists  gathering for their unholy ceremony, and knew  that  evil
powers  had led her feet by devious paths to the place of the  Great
Sabbat that she might participate after all.
  She  stood  for a moment, the blood draining from her face,  quick
tremors of horror and apprehension running down her body. She wanted
to turn and flee into the dark, protective shadows of the night, but
she  could  not tear her eyes away from that terrible figure  seated
upon  the rocky throne, before which the Satanists were making their
obscene obeisance. Some terrible uncanny power kept her feet  rooted
to  the  spot, and although her mother's warning still rang  in  her
ears, she could not drag her gaze away from that blasphemous mockery
of God proceeding in a horrid silence a hundred yards down the slope
from where she stood.
  Time  ceased  to exist for Tanith then. An unearthly chill  seemed
to  creep up out of the valley, swirling and eddying about her  legs
as  a cold current suddenly strikes a bather in a warm patch of sea.
The  chill  crept  upward to the level of her breasts,  numbing  her
limbs and dulling her faculties until she could have cried out  with
the  pain.  She  watched  the  gruesome banquet  with  loathing  and
repulsion,  but  as  she saw those ghoul-like  figures  tilting  the
bottles  to  their  mouths she was suddenly beset  by  an  appalling
desire to drink.
  Although  her  limbs  were  cold, her mouth  seemed  parched;  her
throat  swollen  and  burning. She was seized  with  an  unutterable
longing  to  rush  forward, down the slope, and grab  one  of  those
bottles  with  which  to  slake her all-consuming  thirst.  Yet  she
remained  rooted, held back by her higher consciousness; the  vision
of  her mother no longer before her physical eyes, but clear in  her
mentality  just  as she had seen it, tall, slender  and  white-clad,
with  a  sparkling hoop of star-like diamonds glistening  above  the
hair drawn back from the high, broad forehead.
  At  the  defamation of the Host, she was seized  by  a  shuddering
rigor in all her limbs. She tried to shut her eyes but they remained
fixed  and  staring while silent tears welled from them  and  gushed
down  her  cheeks. She endeavoured to cross herself, but  her  hand,
numb  with  that awful cold, refused to do the bidding of her  brain
and remained hanging limp and frozen at her side. She endeavoured to
pray, but her swollen tongue refused its office, and her mind seemed
to  have  gone utterly blank so that she could not recall  even  the
opening  words  of the Paternoster or Ave Maria.  She  knew  with  a
sudden  appalling clarity that having even been the witness of  this
blasphemous  sacrilege was enough to damn her for all eternity,  and
that  her  own  wish  to attend this devilish  saturnalia  had  been
engendered  only  by  a  stark madness  caught  like  some  terrible
contagious  disease from her association with these other  unnatural
beings who were the victims of a ghastly lunacy;
  In  vain she att