Deliver us from Evil (62 page)

' "It may be."

' "What?"

I
shrugged.

' "Tell me!" she screamed suddenly, her eyes ablaze now and her pale face mobile with a strange and hungry passion. "What have you found?"

' "Nothing we will know,"
I
answered coldly, "until, as
I
have said, we go to the Synagogue."

'Milady met my eye; and for a long while, neither of us spoke. Then she gave a faint shrug, and her face seemed suddenly wan with exhaustion. "Very well, then," she nodded. She clasped the book tightly to her breast. "Let us go." '

Lovelace paused; and his lips curled into a self-mocking smile,
I
do not know what we had been expecting. Once we had joined him in the Synagogue, the Rabbi led us not to a storehouse of ancient papers, not to some dangerous, power-haunted spot, but to an old woman lying crippled in her bed. Her face still preserved, in however ravaged a state, traces of an ancient loveliness; but her mind seemed half-gone, and her hearing with it. The Rabbi must have seen and understood the expression on my face; for he smiled as he crossed to the old woman's side. "This is Jemima," he said, as he pulled up a chair. "Rabbi Loew's grand-daughter - Rabbi Samuel's niece."

I
saw the quickening of my own interest mirrored in Milady's face. "You think, then," she asked, drawing close to the bed, "that they may have taught her how to read the secret script?"

' "In truth," the Rabbi answered, "
I
cannot believe so. And yet of all those who knew Rabbi Loew, there is only Jemima left alive." He bowed his head in silent prayer; then he reached for the book. Milady, though, would not let it out of her hands, but still kept hold of it jealously, even as she opened its pages and laid it down upon the bed.

Jemima continued to stare ahead of her, as though utterly unaware of the book; then she laid a shaking hand upon its edge. She gazed down at it; and her lips began to move. For a brief moment,
I
felt a surge of hope; but then she blinked and shook her head, still muttering unintelligible words to herself; and Milady snapped the book shut and
I
saw, stamped upon her beautiful face, a vicious fury and a bitter despair.

'And then, at the same moment,
I
remembered how Rabbi Loew had once also known despair, when he too had believed that the book would never be read; and how the mystery, one hot afternoon -perhaps in the very room we were all gathered in now - had been sudde
n
ly dissolved by the intrusion of a child.
I
turned to the Rabbi. "You told me of a book, a book in which Rabbi Loew had foreseen my appearance
..."

' "Yes
..."

' "Can you fetch it?"

'He gazed at me in puzzlement, then smiled faintly. "There is no need." He reached within his robes, and drew out a tiny, leather-bound volume. He handed it across, and
I
snatched at it greedily, thumbing through the pages until
I
came to it - the flower, still there. For a moment
I
sat frozen, gazing at it; then gently
I
handed the volume to Jemima. She took it, frowning; then she too looked down and gazed at the flower.

'
"
I
remember
..
." she said suddenly, blinking back her tears.
"
I
remember - the very day when
I
picked this same flower." She raised it to her nostrils. "The scent is long gone." Her tears were flowing uncontrollably now; she wiped at her cheeks, but at the same moment she suddenly laughed. "
I
remember," she nodded, "
I
gave it to my grandfather. Yes. My grandfather
..."
She choked, then laughed again.

'
I
stared across at Milady. She nodded slowly, as though with dawning comprehension; then smoothed out the pages of the book in her hand, and gave it to Jemima. The old woman dropped the volume she already held; and as she did so, the flower crumbled into tiny fragments, and was scattered as purple dust upon the air. But Jemima seemed barely to notice; for all her attention now was placed upon the script, the secret, mysterious, unreadable script.
I
saw her eyes widen with astonishment; then her face seemed suddenly to gleam a pale silver, as though lit from deep within. At the same moment
I
heard a gasp from Milady, a sibilant, triumphant intake of breath.
I
watched her as her eyes sparked, and
I
knew she was seizing upon Jemima's thoughts. Suddenly, she moaned softly and closed her eyes; then she opened them again, and their gold seemed now to blaze with fire. She reached hungrily for the book. "Yes," she gasped, as she stared down at the script, "Lovelace, Lovelace, yes,
I
can read it!"

I
smiled at her weakly. "
I
am glad,"
I
replied. Then
I
felt the pain in my stomach pass over me in a tidal wave of red. The room began to swim
...
I
felt myself crashing to the floor.

'Dimly, through the crimson banks of pain,
I
remained conscious of myself; though for how long, how many hours, it was impossible to know, for all sense of time, all sense of place, seemed dissolved. Sometimes, like phantoms glimpsed through a mist, dreams would brush past me.
I
would see Milady, her face twisted by horror, pressing her hands into the stomach of a corpse, so that the flesh was parted and the coils of gut exposed; and then
I
would see that the corpse was myself. At other times,
I
would hear the wailing of a new-born child, and glimpse it dimly, curled, still bloody, like that tiny thing which had been ripped from Hannah's womb, to be found by my father and enfolded in his cloak; save that though
I
looked,
I
could never see its face, for as
I
drew near it, so the dream would start to fade, and
I
would imagine instead that
I
was lost on Salisbury Plain. Thick gusts of snow would be burning my face, and
I
would search for Stonehenge, so that
I
might find my way home -and then
I
would understand that
I
had been mistaken, that
I
was not by Stonehenge at all but on a remote and barren mountainside, and
I
would see ahead of me a mighty wall of rock shaped in the profile of an old man's head. How
I
longed to reach it!' - Lovelace paused and faintly smiled - 'for as
I
stared at it, somehow the pain would start to melt; but though
I
staggered forward,
I
would soon grow blind with the snow, for the flakes would seem sticky and crimson with blood, and my pain would return. Always my pain, flowing deep from my stomach, deep, very deep - until no more dreams came, and
I
woke up at last.

'Milady was sitting by my side. The book,
I
saw, lay closed upon her lap. She reached to touch my brow. "You have been sick." Her smile seemed distant, very sad.

' "Have you read the book?"

'She nodded faintly.

' "What did you see there?"

'A strange look, in which pity and disgust seemed equally mixed, passed like a shadow across her face. "
I
saw," she whispered, "many strange things
..."
Her voice trailed away and she laid the book down on the floor. "
I
am afraid," she whispered. "Afraid of its power. Afraid
I
will not know how to control such a power. And yet, dearest Lovelace
..
." She kissed me suddenly. "And yet
..."
She looked away. ' "And yet what, Milady?"

'Shaking her head, she rose to her feet. She had ordered food to be prepared for me.
I
ate it. We did not talk. Always, though, we both knew, the book was waiting where Milady had placed it, waiting on the floor.
"
I
am afraid."
Her voice still seemed to ripple through my thoughts. What had she seen? What did she fear?

' "You should sleep," she said at last. "You have been in fever a long while." She left me alone;
I
lay down, and closed my eyes. An hour passed. Then
I
heard her glide up to me; heard the rustling of her dress as she bent down close beside my face. After a minute's silence, she rose back to her feet; and
I
heard her retire. A door, very softly, was opened, then closed. All was quiet again.
I
leapt from my bed. The book,
I
saw at once, had been taken from the floor.
I
gazed around me. It was nowhere to be seen. This did not surprise me, for
I
knew where it had gone.
I
reached hurriedly for my boots and cloak;
I
slipped them on. Then, as Milady had done,
I
passed out on to the stairway and down into the night.

'. . . fain would
I
have a book wherein
I
might behold all spells and incantations, that
I
might raise up spirits when
I
please.'

Christopher Marlowe,
Doctor Faustus

‘
I
could make out Milady ahead of me, but only just; and it was all
I
could do to keep pace with her. She continued down the hill towards the river; and then, as she drew near to the bridge, she paused by its gateway and whispered to the shadows. Two figures emerged in answer from their depths. They were cloaked as Milady was, but still, as they crossed to her,
I
could see the glint of their eyes; and
I
remembered the figures
I
had seen the night before. One of them took Milady in his arms; and
I
was able to glimpse, just for a second as he pushed back his hood to kiss her, Lightborn's face. Then
I
saw him reach inside her cloak, and pull something out; and though the shadows were very deep,
I
knew it was the book. Milady seized it back at once; but not before Lightborn had raised it to his lips and kissed it with a laugh of joyous triumph. His companion whispered something; and
I
thought, as
I
crept towards them through the shadows, that
I
recognised the voice of the Marquise. She turned, and led the way on to the bridge. Lightborn and Milady followed, arm-in-arm.

I
could only pursue them as far as the gateway, for on the Charles Bridge itself there was no shelter at all; yet this also ensured that my view was unobscured. Milady halted in the centre of the bridge. She drew out the book, and opened it up; and then
I
knew that she was starting to read it, for
I
could suddenly feel the pain in my guts, rising in a wave as it had done before and breaking across my thoughts. But
I
knew
I
could not afford to be swept away upon it, for
I
could see how Lightborn and the Marquise had both closed their eyes, and had a look upon their faces of distant rapture, such as Milady too had worn when she had gorged herself upon Jemima's thoughts; and
I
knew that it was her own thoughts which were being fed upon now. Then both Lightborn and the Marquise seemed to gasp, and shudder; and the Marquise suddenly snatched away the book. She stared at the open pages; and
I
imagined
I
could see - though how,
I
cannot say - eddies of a pure and invisible light, flowing in a line along the length of the bridge. They seemed to touch and melt with the pain in my guts; and
I
felt my thoughts melting, as they were lost upon the swirl. But then, as suddenly as it had risen, the pain began to ebb; and the mighty flow of light seemed to fade into the stars.

I
staggered forward, gasping for air. Milady was shouting something at the Marquise;
I
strained to hear what. She was pointing towards the distance; and then suddenly, she seized the book and began to hurry across the bridge, towards the opposite bank. Lightborn followed her, and then the Marquise too; and
I
could see now, as she walked, that her back was still stooped and her gait an ugly hobble. It took her several minutes to reach the far bank; and when she had done so,
I
crossed the bridge myself, then continued to follow her on through the streets.