Satan told me what happened at the meeting, although all who came were sworn to secrecy. I went out of my way to tackle Humpole first thing in the morning, and discussed the meeting with him, naming the chief speakers who had attacked me.
The same thing happened more than once. Whenever two or three started grumbling or agitating, I knew about it, and always took the chance of meeting them personally and showing how well I was aware of their conversation. I did this on my own responsibility without being prompted by Satan. I imagined that it would enhance my influence, and kill further ideas of revolt.
In fact, it had the opposite effect. One morning a notice appeared on the wall outside my house, scrawled with the words BIG BROTHER IS WATCHING YOU. Two days later another notice announced a reward for information about spies. Satan told me that Harry Haskins, the new cobbler, was responsible for much of the agitation, but warned me against doing anything more for now.
Satan's intimate knowledge of what was happening puzzled me. Until now, at the back of my mind I had held the popular assumption that, like the Christian concept of God, he was omnipresent. I had now realised that like any other being he could be in only one place at a time. I had seen more of him because I was at present at the centre of his plans, but even here he couldn't be dropping into all the houses simultaneously.
He had already told me that he had subordinates who had prepared Priam for us, and now I realised that other spirits, or perhaps the same ones, were keeping a watch on everyone and reporting back to their master.
Two days after the second notice had gone up, Satan told me that the time had come to assert my leadership. I must not doubt him, but must do everything he told me, however ridiculous it seemed.
The first thing I had to do was to announce a meeting of every man, woman and child, to be held on the village green the next evening. I was doubtful whether all would come, but so far as I could judge they were all there. I walked out among them without any idea of what I was supposed to do. I could only hope that Satan would open up our "hot line" and tell me.
The crowd drew back and stared grimly at me as I walked through. Then suddenly the tension was broken by a child calling out, "Mummy, I want my tea!" Another shouted, "I want mine too." One or two in the crowd smiled, but someone called to me, "Get on with it, can't you! Can't you see they're hungry?"
Now Satan's prompting came through, and I knew what to do. I picked up some stones and put them on the ground in front of me.
"Come here, children," I called. "I'll give you some tea. Would you like some buns? Then look! Here they are! Come and take them."
As I spoke, where once there had been stones, there now were buns. A child picked one of them up and bit a piece out of it. He turned to the others with his mouth full, and nodded.
"It's good," he managed to say.
The other children dived on them.
There was some applause from a few in the front, and those behind struggled to see for themselves. Several looked at me with awe, but someone, I think Haskins, called out, "It's only a trick. I've seen it on telly."
His words pricked the bubble. Others took it up. "It's a trick!" and one mother snatched the bun from her child, and stamped on it. Someone called out, "When's the next performance?"
I held up my hand for silence. I heard the well-known inner voice, "Tell them to watch this." I added something of my own as a feeling of exhilaration gripped me.
"If you don't believe my power to turn these stones into food, then watch."
To be honest, I had no idea what would happen next. But suddenly I felt myself slowly rising from the ground. The people fell back with exclamations of amazement. Up and up I went, until I was able to perch on the edge of the roof of a three storey house. There I stayed, as though suspended in the air.
The doctor's voice floated up to me, though whether he was airing his knowledge, or trying to calm the crowd's excitement, I can't say. "It's levitation. Other people have done it in the past. But it's clever."
It looked as though once again the demonstration of my power would fall flat. Then the voice came, "Now jump down. Jump!"
I said, "I'll be smashed to pieces."
The voice spoke again. "I told you to trust me. I've given my servants orders to hold you up. You won't be hurt."
So I just jumped into space. For a moment I fell like a stone, and it flashed through my mind that this was Satan's way of killing me. But some six feet from the ground it was as though a parachute had opened, and I landed with no more force than if I had jumped a foot in the air.
The doctor seized me by the hand. "I've read about levitation before, about Joseph of Copertino and Daniel Douglas Home, and all that, but I'd no idea it could be done as you did it. Good psychic stuff. Congratulations!"
I doubt whether many understood what Dr Faber was talking about, but they evidently gained the impression that anyone could do the stunt if only they knew how the trick was done.
"What is the next trick?" someone shouted.
"That's all," I called.
There was some half-hearted clapping as the people dispersed.
* * *
Next morning another notice appeared. ASK THE CONJURER TO YOUR CHRISTMAS PARTY.
So Christmas was still an issue, but I kept making it clear that a return to earth was not on the cards. And although they had treated my display as an elaborate trick, for the time being they dropped their opposition. I couldn't forbid Christmas on Priam.
So in due course one or two brought a tree from the woods and set it up on the green. People requested various decorations and crackers, and hung them on the branches. On Christmas Day, although I stayed in my house the whole morning, I know they gave each other presents, and someone left an iced cake on my doorstep.
In the late afternoon a number gathered to dance round the tree. I had been afraid we might have carols, but like myself most were sufficiently pagan to have abandoned Christian hymns long ago. But they joined in some of the better known old music hall songs and a few from World War II.
I remembered my skill with my funeral sermon, and thought I might justify my position as leader with another suitable address on this occasion. So I stood on a small mound and clapped my hands for silence at a break in the singing.
I declared that we had gone behind the traditions that were kept up by many people on earth. We may still keep the meaningless name of Christmas, but we were observing the good old Yule customs that the world had celebrated from time immemorial. If we had been on earth, we would be joining our ancestors in rejoicing that we had come to the period when the sun, which had sunk to its lowest point, now began to increase in strength day by day. On Priam, where the seasons changed little, we could not perceive any change at this time, but we nonetheless accepted the invisible fact as a real event to be celebrated.
I didn't detect much enthusiasm for my speech. In fact the conclusion was somewhat spoilt by the appearance of Santa Claus from the doctor's house, with packets of homemade sweets for the children.
Dr Faber received the applause that should have been mine.
CHAPTER 17
A week or two later I met Peter Faber outside my house, and walked along a little way with him. I asked him jokingly how was business at the surgery, and was surprised to find him answering seriously.
"It's a funny thing. For the first time I'm getting more than I should expect, considering our total numbers."
"What's the matter with them, Doctor? We haven't got an epidemic on our hands, have we?"
"Oh no, nothing like that. Quite a proportion of the troubles are what I would diagnose as psychosomatic. You know, of course, what that means."
"Of course. What unkind people call 'All in the mind', but a bit more than that, and quite real enough."
"I find I'm having to dish out more tranquilisers than I should like. I hadn't expected to do that in a place like this. To my mind, the peace of the place ought to be enough."
He looked all round him
. We were clear of the houses by now. He went on. "We've had several small accidents too -- a sprained ankle, a nasty burn, and a cut on the head through falling against the edge of a table. Ah well! I mustn't bore you with my troubles. After all, medical care is what I'm here for."
"That's true" I said, "but I hope you're happy in your work."
"I think so. But there's something about the atmosphere that depresses me and my wife at times. I can't put it into words, but somehow I feel as though we're in a prison camp, free to walk around, but with warders watching all the time. Funny how one's imagination can play tricks."
I thought it best not to pursue the subject in the light of what I knew, and we walked on, talking of things in general.
A bright golden bird flew across our path. The doctor pointed to it and told me that he was preparing a set of descriptions of birds, flowers and insects on Priam. He had always been interested in nature on earth, and had been pleased to find some of his nature books teleported in his bookcase here. I suggested he might get in touch with Kathleen Ryecroft the librarian, who also was doing nature research. He nodded, and continued talking.
"The trouble is thinking up new names for everything. At the moment I'm relating them to the nearest I can find in my books. Maybe I'll call that a golden oriole."
A loud whistle came from the tree where the bird had landed.
"Yes," nodded the doctor, "I once heard an oriole on the earth. That was just like it."
* * *
I think this was the day when I actually saw Satan again in person, for the first time since we had been on Priam. It was early evening, and as on the first occasion I suddenly became aware of a figure in the armchair opposite. He was dressed in black, as before.
He began, "I thought you'd prefer to have a talk face to face instead of our usual communications."
"Probably, yes," I said. "But it depends what you want to talk about."
"You may wish to ask me something."
"I'd sooner you said what you have to say first."
"Very well. You're not doing too badly on the whole."
"Thank you."
"I was sorry that our attempts to demonstrate your authority before Yuletide were such a failure. You recognised what I was doing, of course."
"I guessed you were trying the same plan as you used with Jesus, when you suggested turning stones into bread and throwing himself from the roof of the temple. It didn't work with him. He wouldn't do what you said."
"I'm sorry to have to admit it, but he was right and I was wrong. When you actually did it, my plan was a failure. I can see that the priests and others would not have been impressed by a man drifting down from the roof."
"I'm surprised you didn't foresee it."
"You seem to think I can foresee the future. I can work out quite a lot, and I can have occasional intuitions, but I cannot see the end from the beginning."
"Then, if I may say so, why did you worry about stopping Jesus, if you didn't know his plan?"
"Because he was driven by an obsessive idea that he was destined to die a violent death. He had read about it in a set of predictions in the Hebrew prophets."
"What did it matter to you?"
"I sensed that it did, and I was right. A whole lot of people, as you know, got hold of the idea that he was the God they had imagined existed -- and that was the start of all the trouble that I've been fighting ever since."
I saw the point, but added, "What about the other suggestion that you made to Jesus, to become ruler of the world by acknowledging you as lord? You didn't try that with me."
Satan laughed. "No. You tried to get that for yourself in the house of secrets. You've been getting too big for your boots. Your place is under me, not living as my partner."
He leaned back in his chair, with a wave of his hand to brush the subject away. Then he went on, "The doctor's been telling you of his accident cases, hasn't he? Did it strike you I might be responsible?"
"What do you mean?"
"As a former theologian, you know that Christians talk as though their God punishes what they call sin. I've often heard them say, 'What have I done to deserve this?' But of course things don't work out according to their theory."
I nodded agreement.
"Well, I'm more consistent. Every one of those accidents was a punishment to nip trouble in the bud. One man was starting to knock his wife about, another was drunk, and the woman was persistently nagging her husband and threatening to take up with another man."
"Then how could you cause the accidents?"
"A moment's mental confusion. The result, a trip over the edge of the carpet, a fall against the table, or a dropped saucepan of boiling water. You can take it from me, they all feel guilty now."
Again Satan dismissed the subject, and surprised me by asking, "What about Kathleen Ryecroft these days? You've not seen much of her since that time in the wood."
That was true. I had done little more than say good morning when I met her out, and we exchanged what I suppose would be called "significant glances" when I went to change a book at the library. But we had not gone out of our way to seek each other out.
"You will put me in a difficult position", I said, "if you're suggesting I should marry her. I've no intention of marrying, and Kathleen once hinted to the council that she felt the same."
"That's all very well, but she's put me in a difficult position. She was psychic enough to be on the verge of guessing what was happening, and now you've had to tell her of my plan. She may very well try some unfortunate experiment on her own. That's why it would be best to marry her, so that you could keep an eye on her."
I know my face showed resentment. "You can't make me marry her."
"I can only advise you for the good of the cause which you and I have undertaken. I'm prompting her to meet you in half an hour by the lake. She's on her way now. If she passes the spot where she saw Bill Stuckey murdered, a little bit of extra emotion won't do her any harm. Don't be late!"
The armchair was empty. I could see no dent in the cushion. It was the first time I had been angry with my boss, but my mind was raging as I went down the street. I also began to think just how much he could influence my mind. I knew the feeling of pressure that I sometimes had, but if Kathleen had been actually driven to meet me, that was something more than pressure.
When I was interested in hypnotism, I had seen experiments in post-hypnotic suggestion, when under hypnosis a person was told that in, say, five minutes after being brought round he would do some specified thing, sometimes something quite ridiculous. At the end of five minutes he would do it, without being aware of what he had been told to do.
The puzzling thing is that I don't think anyone knows how these hypnotic suggestions work. If Satan knows how to reach the suggestive centre, and implants his own suggestions there, such as "Go to the lake at once," we could easily become puppets on a string. I had not reached any conclusion about the possibility of this by the time I left the main track and took the footpath to the lake.
I looked about for Kathleen, and at first couldn't see her. Maybe she had resisted the suggestion, and I was relieved. Then I saw her in a grey suit, sitting beside a flowering bush, and staring across the water which was flickering in the sunlight. I didn't know whether Satan had told her that she would be meeting me, but I began to walk noisily as I came near her, so as not to take her by surprise.
She turned and saw me. "Oh hello!" she said. "I hope it won't be like that time in the wood."
I sat down by her side. "No," I answered, "no mediumship this time." I didn't add, "And no kiss." I had no intention of making this an engagement party.
"He -- you know who I mean -- prompted me to come here. Why?"
"Yes, he told me to come here and meet you. He seemed to think it rather strange that since you know so much, we had never met to talk things over."
She picked up a small stone, threw it into the lake, dusted the earth from her hands, and looked at me. "Do you love �
��" she hesitated for a moment, and then added, "him?"
Her question staggered me. It was something I had never even considered. I paused before answering. "… I serve him and obey him."
"I know that. But do you love him?"
"That's a difficult thing to answer."
"You ought to know."
I turned the question back on Kathleen. "You know we are all his servants here. Do you love him?"
"No," she said abruptly. "I fear him. If you were honest, you'd say the same."
"I can't discuss it now," I said, and changed the subject by asking, "Is there anything going on in the village that I ought to know?"
I think she wanted to follow up her question. She frowned, and answered almost at once, "Things aren't working out as they should. They're turning sour on us. There's an atmosphere of selfishness creeping in, and laziness too. Satan gives them all they want, and it isn't doing them any good. They want it -- and they get it."
"Wait a bit," I interrupted. "Satan isn't giving them everything, and he does encourage do-it-yourself efforts".
"Not very often I'm afraid. And another thing. There are cliques springing up everywhere. Little groups meeting in each other's houses."
"What for?"
"Goodness knows. Some probably just for gossip, pulling other groups to pieces. I know some get together to drink. At least that's what it sounds like when they're going home. Some probably talk politics. At any rate, one or two have been getting Marxist books from the library, and other books on the political fringes. I think others have given themselves a sense of superiority by studying some of the literary classics. I've seen them grunting contemptuously when the person in front of them is taking out a light romance. I think you ought to know that a few of them are studying religion."
I said, "I hadn't realised there are religious books in the library. I'm surprised Satan allowed them."
"I checked them myself," she answered. "They're pretty general. Comparative religions and all that. Still, if they get talking, you never know what may happen."
"I'd no idea all this was going on."
"No. They obviously want to keep you in the dark. I wonder how much Satan knows."
I thought for a moment before commenting. "Probably everything, but I'm surprised he's not warned me."
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