The Devil Rides Out

Simon, whose recent experiences had taught him something of pentacles, recognised ten of them, as Cabbalistic signs taken from the Sephirotic Tree; Kether, Binah, Ceburah, Hod, Malchut and the rest. But others, like the Eye of Horus, were of Egyptian origin, and others again in some ancient Aryan script which he did not understand.

When the skeleton of this astral fortress was completed, the clean bedding was laid out beside it for them to rest upon, and De Richleau produced further impedimenta from his case.

With lengths of asafoetida grass and blue wax he sealed the windows, the door leading to the hall, and that concealed in the bookshelves which led to the nursery above, each at both sides and at the tops and at the bottoms, making the sign of the Cross in holy water over every seal as he completed it.

Then he ordered the others inside the pentacle, examined the switches by the door to assure himself that every possible light in the room was on, made up the fire with a great pile of logs so that it would last well through the night and there be no question of their having to leave the circle to replenish it and, joining them where they had squatted down on the thick mat of blankets, produced five little silver cups, which he proceeded to fill two-thirds full with Holy water. These he placed, one in each valley of the pentacle.

Then, taking five long white tapering candles, such as are offered by devotees to the Saints in Catholic Churches, he lit them from an old-fashioned tinder-box and set them upright, one at each apex of the five-pointed star. In their rear he placed the five brand new horseshoes which Richard had secured from the village with their horns pointing outward, and beyond each vase of holy water he set a dried mandrake, four females and one male, the male being in the valley to the north.

These complicated formulas for the erection of outward barriers being at last finished, the Duke turned his attention to the individual protection of his friends and himself. Four long wreaths of garlic flowers were strung together and each of the party placed one about his neck. Rosaries, with little golden crucifixes attached, were distributed, medals of Saint Benedict holding the Cross in his right hand and the Holy Rule in his left, and phials of salt and mercury; lengths of the asafoetida grass were again tied round Simon’s wrists and ankles, and he was placed in their midst facing towards the north. The Duke then performed the final rites of sealing the nine openings of each of their bodies.

All this performance had entirely failed to impress Richard. In fact, it tended to revive his earlier scepticism. It was his private belief that a blackmailing gang were playing tricks upon Simon and the Duke so, before coming downstairs, he had tucked a loaded automatic comfortably away beneath his pyjama jacket. In deference to De Richleau’s obvious concern that nothing soiled should be brought within the circle he had first, half-ashamedly, cleansed the weapon in a bath of spirit but, if Mr. Mocata was so ill-advised as to break into his house that night with the intention of staging any funny business, he meant to use it. After a little pause he looked cheerfully round at the others. ‘Well—here we are! What happens now?’

‘We have ample room here,’ replied De Richleau, ‘so there is no reason why we should not lie down with our feet towards the rim of the circle and try to get some sleep, but there are certain instructions I would like to give you before we settle down.’

‘I never felt less like sleep in my life,’ remarked Simon.

‘Nor I,’ agreed Richard. ‘It’s early yet and if only Marie Lou weren’t here I’d tell you some bawdy stories to keep you gay.’

‘Don’t mind me, darling,’ cooed Marie Lou. ‘I’m human— even if you are right about my having an angelic face.’

‘No!’ He shook his head quickly. ‘Somehow they fail to amuse me when you’re about. That’s why I never tell you any. It needs men on their own sitting round a bottle of something to get the best of a bawdy jest. My God ! I wish we’d got a bottle of brandy with us now!’

‘Mean pig,’ she murmured amiably, snuggling up against him. ‘If Greyeyes and Simon didn’t know you so well they would think you nothing but an awful little drunk from the way you talk, whereas you’re a nice person really.’

‘Am I? Well, anyway, it’s fine that you should think so.’ He fondled her short curly hair with his long fingers. ‘My present lust for liquor is only because I’ve been done out of my fair ration today. But what shall we talk about? Greyeyes—this Talisman that all the bother centres on—tell us about it before you give us your final orders for the night.’

‘You know the legend of Isis and Osiris?’ the Duke asked.

‘Yes—vaguely,’ Richard replied. ‘They were the King and Queen of Heaven who came to earth in human form and taught the Egyptians all they knew, weren’t they? The old business of a fair-haired god arriving among a dusky people and importing all sorts of new ideas about agriculture and architecture and justice—in fact—what we call civilisation.’

De Richleau nodded. ‘That is so. But I mean the story of how Osiris came to die?’

‘He was murdered, wasn’t he?’ volunteered Simon. ‘But I’ve forgotten how.’

‘Well, this is the account which has been handed down to us through many thousands of years. Osiris was, apparently, as Richard says, a fair-haired, light-skinned man, alien to the Egyptian race, who became their King and, ruling them with great intelligence, brought them many blessings. But he had a brother named Set—and here again you get the two principals of Good and Evil, Light and Darkness—for Set was a dark man. The legend is, of course, apocryphal up to a point but, eliminating the overlay of myth with which the priests later embroidered it, the whole story had such a genuine ring of human tragedy that it is very difficult to doubt that these two men and the woman Isis actually lived, as the progenitors of a Royal dynasty, in the Nile valley long before the Pyramids were built.

‘It always amazes me, whenever I re-read the story in the Greek Classics, how Set, particularly, stands out as a definite and living figure after all these countless generations. The characters in our seventeenth century plays even are quite unreal to us now —with a very few exceptions; but Set remains, timeless and unchanging, the charming but unscrupulous rogue who might have entertained you with lavish hospitality and brilliant conversation yesterday—yet would do you down without the least compunction if he met you in the street tomorrow.

‘He was tall and slim and dark and handsome; a fine athlete and a great hunter, but a cultured, amusing person too, and a boon companion who knew how to carry his wine at table. The type whose lapses men are always ready to condone on account of their delightful personality, and those wickedness women persuade themselves is only waywardness—while they succumb almost at a glance to that dark male virility.

‘Set was younger than Osiris and jealous of his authority. Then he fell in love with Isis, his brother’s wife. The old story of the human triangle you see, or rather the original, for all others in the whole literature of the world which deal with the same subjects are plagiarisms. Set conspired, therefore, to slay the King and seize his wife and power for himself.

‘To assassinate Osiris openly would have been a difficult matter because he was always surrounded by the other nobles, who loved him and knew that he kept the peace while the land flourished and grew prosperous. Set knew that they would defend the King’s person with their lives, and he was faced with another problem too. Osiris was a god, and even if he could lure him to a place where the deed could be done in secret, he dared not spill one drop of the divine blood.

‘He planned then a superlatively clever murder. You all know that the Egyptians considered this present life to be only an interlude and that almost from the age at which they could think at all their thoughts were largely focused on the life to come. Many of them spent their entire fortune upon preparing some magnificent place of burial for themselves, and at every banquet, when the slaves served the dessert, the head wine butler carried round a miniature coffin with a skeleton inside to remind the guests that death was waiting round the corner for them all.