The War Hound and the World's Pain (26 page)

I wept for an hour. And when I had finished I looked up at the lady and I said: “All that I love is threatened or is lost forever.”

“So it must seem,” she said.

“My friends are dead. My true love is in Satan’s thrall, as am I. And I cannot trust my Master to keep His bond.”

“Lucifer cannot be trusted,” she agreed.

“He offered to return my soul,” I told her.

“Aye. It is the only thing He can offer, Ulrich von Bek, which has any value to a mortal. He can offer power and knowledge, but they are worthless if the price is one’s soul. Many have come to me, at the Forest at the Edge of Heaven. Many soldiers and many philosophers.”

“Seeking the Grail?”

“Aye.”

“And you have shown it to them?”

“To some, yes, I have shown it.”

“And they have taken it forth into the world?”

“One or two have taken it forth, aye.”

“So it is all a trick. There is no special power to the Grail.”

“I did not tell you that, Ulrich von Bek.” She was almost chiding. She poured me more milk from a pitcher. She spread honey on the good bread. “But most of them expected magic. Most expected at very least some heavenly music. Most were so pure, Ulrich von Bek, and so innocent, that they could not bear the truth.”

“What? The Grail, surely, is not a deception of Satan’s. If so, the implications of what I have been doing …”

She laughed. “You expect worse, for your experience has led you to expect worse. Oh, I have seen great-hearted men and women kneeling in worship of the cup. I have seen them pray for days, awaiting its message, some sign. I have seen them ride from here in disappointment, claiming that they have been offered a false Grail. I have even been threatened with death, by that same Klosterheim who now commands Hell’s armies.”

“Klosterheim has been here? When?”

“Many years since. I treated him no differently. But he expected too much. So he got nothing. And he went away. He stabbed me here”—she indicated her left breast—”with his sword.”

“And yet he did not kill you, plainly.”

“Of course not. He was not strong enough.”

“He has strength with him now.”

“That he has! But he has refused to learn,” she said, “and it is a great shame. He had character, Johannes Klosterheim, and I liked him, for all that he was naïve. He refused to learn what Lucifer refused to learn. Yet I believe you have learned it, Ulrich von Bek.”

“All I have learned, lady, is to accept the world’s attributes as they are. I have learned, I suppose, an acceptance of my own self, an acceptance of Man’s ability to create not sensations and marvels but cities and farms which order the world, which bring us justice and sanity.”

“Aha,” she said. “Is that all you have learned, then, young man? Is that all?”

“I think so,” I said. “The marvelous is of necessity a lie, a distortion. At best it is a metaphor which leads to the truth. I think that I know what causes the World’s Pain, lady. Or at least I think I know what contributes to that Pain.”

“And what would that be, Ulrich von Bek?”

“By telling a single lie to oneself or to another, by denying a single fact of the world as it has been created, one adds to the World’s Pain. And pain, lady, creates pain. And one must not seek to become saint or sinner, God or Devil. One must seek to become human and to love the fact of one’s humanity.”

I became embarrassed. “That is all I have learned, lady.”

“It is all that Heaven demands,” she said.

I looked out through her window. “Is there such a place as Heaven?”

“I think so,” she said. “Come, we shall walk together, Ulrich von Bek.”

I was much refreshed. She took my hand and led me from the cottage and through the forest behind it until we stood upon a precipice, whence issued the blue-green haze. I felt a sudden soaring of the mind and senses, such as I had never before experienced. I felt a joy and a peace, previously unknown. I wanted to plunge from that place and into the cool haze, to give myself up to whatever it was I felt. But the woman tugged at my hand and I had to turn my back on Heaven.

Even now I cannot be sure if I experienced a hint of what Heaven might be. It seemed a kind of clarity, a kind of understanding. Can Hell and Heaven be merely the difference between ignorance and knowledge?

I turned my back on Heaven.

I turned my back on Heaven and walked with the lady to her cottage. The children had disappeared and only the cow and the horse were there, placid.

I sat at the table and she poured me milk from her pitcher.

“Where is this?” I asked her. “Where does Heaven lie?”

“That must be obvious to you by now.” She went to the wooden dresser behind her and she opened a drawer. From the drawer she took a small clay pot and she placed it on the table before me.

“Here. Take this back to your Master. Tell Him you have found the Grail. And tell Him that it was fashioned by the hands of an ordinary woman.”

“This?” I could not touch it. “This is the Holy Grail?”

“This is a production of that which you believe inhabits the Grail,” she said. “And it is holy, I think. And it was made by me. And all it brings is Harmony. It makes those who are in its presence whole. Yet, ironically, it can be handled only by one who is already whole.”

“I, whose soul is in Lucifer’s charge, can be called whole, lady?”

“You are a man,” she said. “A mortal. And you are not innocent. Neither are you destroyed. Yes, von Bek, you are whole enough.”

I reached fingers towards the little clay pot. “My Master will not believe in this.”

She shrugged. “Your Master is a fool,” she said. “Your Master is a fool.”

“Well,” I said, “I will take it to Him. And I will tell Him what you have told me. That I bring the Cure for the World’s Pain.”

“You bring Him Harmony,” she said. “That is the Cure. And the Cure is within every one of us.”

“Has this cup no other power, lady?”

“The Power of Harmony is power enough,” said she quietly.

“But difficult to demonstrate,” said I in some amusement.

She smiled. Then she shrugged and would say no more on the subject.

“Well,” I told her, “I thank you for your hospitality, lady. And for this gift of the Holy Grail. Must I believe in it?”

“Believe what you like. The cup is what the cup is,” she said. “And it is yours to take.”

I picked up the cup at last. It was warm in my hand. I felt a little of what I had experienced as she and I looked into the abyss beyond her house. “I thank you for your gift,” I said.

“It is no gift,” she told me. “It is truly earned, Ulrich von Bek. Be sure of that.”

“I have a scroll,” I said, “which I must open if I am to return to my Master.”

“You cannot open it here,” she said. “And even if you did open it, you could not return to Hell from here, nor any part which Hell commands. It is the rule.”

“Ah, but madam, I have come so far! Am I to be cheated now?”

“You are not cheated,” she said kindly, “but it is the rule. Use your scroll once you are out of the forest again. It will serve you then.”

“Klosterheim and Duke Arioch’s horde await me there.”

“That is true,” she said. “I know.”

“So I am to be doomed just as it seems I achieve my goal?”

“If you think so.”

“You must tell me!” I was close to weeping. “Oh, madam, you must tell me!”

“Take the Grail,” she said. “And take your scroll. They will both serve you well. Show Klosterheim the Grail and remember that he has seen it before.”

“He will mock me.”

“Of course Klosterheim will mock you if he has any chance at all. Of course he will, Ulrich von Bek. He is all armour, that Klosterheim.”

“And then he will kill me,” I said.

“Then you must have courage.”

She rose from the table and I knew she meant me to leave.

One of the little boys was holding my horse for me as I went out into the yard. Another sat on the pump, watching me. The third was unconcerned. He was studying the chickens.

I sat down upon my horse and set my feet in my stirrups. I felt the clay pot in my purse, together with Lucifer’s scroll.

“There will be no legend told of you,” said the grey-haired woman, “yet you are my favourite amongst all those who have come to me.”

“Mother,” I said, “will you tell me your name?”

“Oh,” she said, “I am just an ordinary woman who made a clay pot and who dwells in a cottage in the Forest at the Edge of Heaven.”

“But a name?”

“Call me what you will,” she said. She smiled and her smile was warm. She put a hand upon mine. “Call me Lilith, for some do.”

Then she had struck my horse upon his flank and I was riding east again. Back to where Klosterheim and all his horrid army awaited me.

I KNEW THAT it was a foolish hope, yet I deliberately went to where I had left Sedenko’s body. I recalled a legend concerning one of the properties of the Grail, that it could bring the dead back to life. I held out the little clay pot over the corpse of my poor damned friend, but his eyes did not flicker and his wounds did not magically heal, though his face seemed more at peace than when I had covered him with flowers and leaves.

This dream, I thought, has no meaning. This clay pot is nothing more than a clay pot. I have learned nothing and I have gained nothing. Yet I rode on, out of the blue-green Forest at the Edge of Heaven, and I stood alone against all the ranks of rebellious Hell, reaching for my parchment even as Klosterheim rode out from the infinite black cloud and came slowly towards me.

“I give you the opportunity to join in this adventure,” he said. He was frowning. He pursed his lips. “You and I have great courage, von Bek, and together we could storm Heaven and take it. Think what would be ours!”

“You are mad, Johannes Klosterheim,” I said. “Philander Groot has already told you that. He was right. How can Heaven’s gifts be taken by storm?”

“The way I take Hell’s, fool!”

“I have found the Grail,” I said, “and would ask you to let me pass, for I am on my way to my Master. I have been successful in my Quest.”

“You have been deceived. You are not the first to be so deceived.”

“I know that you have looked upon the Grail and have rejected it,” I said, “but I have not rejected it, Klosterheim. Do not ask me why, for I could not tell you, though I am sure you have many reasons as to why you would not accept it.”

“I would not accept it,” he said, “because it was a trick. There were no miracles. Either God deceived us or He had no power. It was then that I decided to serve Lucifer. And now I serve myself against even Lucifer.”

“You serve nothing,” I said, “save the Cause of Dissension.”

“My Cause has far more meaning! Von Bek, I offer you all that you desire.”

“You offer me more than ever Lucifer offered,” I said. “Do you believe that His power is already yours?”

“It shall be!”

He signaled and the black weight of Hell came moving in on me. I smelled the stink. I heard the gibbering and the other noises. I saw the hideous, malformed faces. Rank upon rank upon rank of them. “This is what rules now,” said Klosterheim. “Death and terror are the means by which all power is maintained. I make my justice for myself. A just world is a world in which Johannes Klosterheim has everything he desires!”

I took the little clay pot from my purse. “Is this what you rejected?”

The ground began to tremble again. It seemed the whole Earth swayed. From the ranks of Hell came a monstrous ululation.

Klosterheim looked hard at it. “Aye. It’s the same. And you’ve been deceived by the same trick, von Bek, as I told you.”

“Then look upon it,” I said. “Let all your forces look upon it. Look upon it!”

I hardly know why I spoke thus. I held the Grail up high. No shining came out of it. No music came out of it. No great event took place. It remained what it was: a small clay pot.

Yet, here and there in the ranks of Hell, pairs of eyes became transfixed. They looked. And a certain sort of peace came upon the faces of those who looked.

“It is a Cure,” I cried, following my instincts, “a Cure for your Pain. It is a Cure for your Despair. It is a Cure.”

The poor damned wretches who had known nothing but fear throughout their existence, who had faced no future but one of terror or oblivion, began to crane to see the clay pot. Weapons were lowered. The gruntings and the gigglings ceased.

Klosterheim was stunned. He made no protest as I moved towards his army.

“It is a Cure,” I said again. “Look upon it. Look upon it.”

They were falling to their knees. They were dismounting from their beasts. Even the most grotesque of them was transfixed by that clay pot. And still no special radiance came out of it. Still no miracle occurred, save the miracle of their salvation.

And thus it was, with Klosterheim coming beside me, that I rode through the ranks of Hell and was unharmed. Klosterheim was the only one who was not affected by the Grail. His face writhed with a terrible torment. He was fascinated by what happened, but did not wish to believe it. He coughed. He began to groan. “No,” he said.

We passed together through his entire army. And that army lay upon the ground. It lay upon the ground and it seemed to be sleeping, though it might also have been dead; I did not know.

And Klosterheim and I were now the only two who were conscious, just then.

Klosterheim was shaking. He moved his head from side to side and he bit at his lip and he glared at me and the little clay pot. And he could not speak. And he had tears in his tormented eyes.

“No,” said Klosterheim.

“It is true,” I told him. “You might have had the Grail. But you rejected it. You rejected your own salvation as well as the salvation of your fellow men. You might have had this Grail, Johannes Klosterheim.”

And he put fingers to his wretched lips. And now tears ran down his gaunt, pale cheeks. And he said again: “No.”

He said: “No.”

“It is true, Klosterheim. Yes, it is true.”

“It cannot be.” This last was a terrified shout. He stretched gloved hands towards the Grail, as if he still believed he might be saved.