"You could say so, yes."
"But how did you come, as you put it, to serve Satan?" Now I believed that she spoke metaphorically, or that at least she was exaggerating. I still could not believe that she was insane. Her confession, after all, was couched in the most rational terms.
"Our coven was discovered, betrayed. We were imprisoned. We were tortured, of course, and tried, and found guilty. Many confessed to pacts with the Devil." Her expression became bleak. "I could not, in those days, believe that so many evil people would pose as good while we, who had done no harm and had served our neighbours, were submitted to the most disgusting and brutal of attentions."
"But you escaped…"
"I became disillusioned as I lay wounded and humiliated in that dungeon. Desperate. I determined that if I was to be branded an evil witch I might as well behave as one. I knew the invocations necessary to summon a servant of the Devil."
She moved carefully, looking full into my face before she spoke next:
"In my cell one night, because I wished to save myself from death and further barbarism; because I had lost belief in the power of my sisters, upon which I had faithfully relied, I began the necessary ritual. It was at my moment of greatest weakness. And it is at that moment, you must know, when Lucifer's servants come calling."
"You summoned a demon?"
"And sold my soul."
"And were saved."
"After the pact was made, I appeared to contract the Plague and was thrown, living, into a pit on the outskirts of town. From that pit I escaped and the Plague went from me. Two days after that, as I lay in a barn, my Master appeared to me in person. He said that He had special need of me. He brought me here, where I was instructed in His service."
"You truly believe that it was Lucifer who brought you here? That this is Lucifer's castle?" I reached out to touch her face.
"I know that Lucifer is my Master. I know that this is His domain on Earth." She could tell that I did not believe her.
"But He is not in residence today?" I said.
"He is here now," she told me flatly.
"I discovered no sign of Him." I was insistent.
"Could you recognise the sign of Lucifer?" she asked me. She spoke as if to a child.
"I would expect at least a hint of brimstone," I told her.
She gestured about her. "This whole castle, the forest outside, is His sign. Could you not guess? Why do even the smallest insects avoid it? Why do whole armies fear it?"
"Then why did I feel only a hint of trepidation when I came here? How can you live here?"
Her expression approached pity.
"Only the souls He owns can exist here," she said.
I shuddered and became cold. I was almost convinced by her. Happily, my reason once again began to function. My ordinary sense of self-preservation. I stepped from the bed and began pulling on my linen. "Then I'll be leaving," I said. "I have no wish to make a pact with Lucifer or anyone who calls himself Lucifer. And I would suggest, Sabrina, that you accompany me. Unless you wish to remain enslaved by your illusion."
She became wistful.
"If only it were an illusion, and you truly could save me."
"I can. On the back of my very ordinary horse. Leave with me now."
"I cannot leave and neither can you. For that matter, because the horse has served you, neither can your horse,"
I scoffed at this. "No man is wholly free and the same, madam, may be said for the beast he rides, but we are both free enough to go from here at once!"
"You must stay and meet my Master," she said.
"I am not about to sell my soul."
"You must stay." She reached a hand to me. It trembled. "For my sake."
"Madam, such pleas to my honour are pointless. I have no honour left. I thought that I had made that perfectly clear."
"I beg you," she said.
It was my desire, rather than my honour, which held me there. I hesitated. "You say that your Master is in the castle now?"
"He waits for us."
"Alone? Where? I'll take my sword and deal with your ФLuciferХ, your enchanter, in my own habitual fashion. He has deceived you. Good, sharp steel will enlighten Him and prove to you that He is mortal. You'll be free soon enough, I promise you."
"Bring your sword if you wish," she said.
She rose and began to dress herself in flowing white silk. I stood near her, watching impatiently as she took pains with her clothing. I even felt a pang of jealousy, as a cuckolded husband knows when he sees his wife dressing for her lover.
It was odd, indeed, that such a beautiful and intelligent woman could believe herself in thrall to Satan Himself. Our times were such that human despair took many forms of madness.
I buckled my sword-belt about my shirted waist, pulled on my boots and stood before her, trying to determine the depth of her illusion. Her stare was direct and there was pain in it, as well as a strange sort of determination.
"If you are crazed," I said, "it is the subtlest form of insanity I've ever witnessed."
"The human imagination confers lunacy on everyone," she said, "dependent upon their condition. I am as sane as you, sir."
"Then you are, after all, only half-mad," I told her. I offered her my arm as I opened the bedroom door for her. The passage beyond was cold. "Where does this Lucifer of yours hold Court?"
"In Hell," she said.
We walked slowly along the passage and began to descend the broad stone steps towards the main hall.
"And His castle is in Hell?" I asked, looking about me in a somewhat theatrical fashion. I could see the trees through the windows. Everything was exactly as it had been during my stay there.
"It could be," she said.
I shook my head. It took much to threaten my rational view of the world, for my mind had been tempered in the fires of the War, by its terrors and its cruelties, and had survived the contemplation of considerable evil and delusion. "Then all the world is Hell? Do you propose that philosophy?"
"Ah," she said, almost gaily, "is that what we are left with, sir, when we have discarded every other hope?"
"It is a sign of Hope, is it, to believe our own world Hell?"
"Hell is better than nothing," she answered, "to many, at least."
"I refuse to believe such nonsense," I told her. "I have become grim and absolute, madam, in most of my opinions. We appear to be returning to the realm of speculation. I wish to see a concrete Devil and, if we are in Hell, concrete proof of that statement."
"You are over-economical, sir, in the use of your intelligence."
"I think not. I am a soldier, as I've told you more than once. It is a soldier's trait. Simple facts are his trade."
"We have already discussed your reasons for choosing to become a soldier, sir."
I was amused, once more, by the sharpness of her wit.
We were walking down the steps, alternately through sunlight and shadow. The shift of light gave her features a variety of casts, which had become familiar to me.
Such strength of mind or of body was not usually associated either with witchcraft or with Satan-worship. In my experience, as Sabrina had already hinted to me, those who sought the aid of demons were wretched, powerless creatures who had given up hope of all salvation, whether it be on Earth or in Heaven.
We were crossing the main floor now, towards the huge doors of the library.
"He is in there," she said.
I stopped, loosening my sword. I sniffed.
"Still no brimstone," I said. "Has He horns, your Master? A long tail? Cloven hooves? Does fire come from His nostrils? Or is His enchantment of a subtler sort?"
"I would say that it was subtler," she told me softly. She seemed torn between proving herself and wishing to flee with me. Her expression was challenging and yet fearful as she looked up at me. She seemed even more beautiful. I touched her hair, stroking it. I kissed her upon her warm lips.