Gateway to Hell

by Dennis Wheatley

  Wearily they struggled out of their filthy clothes, shaved and luxuriated for a while in hot baths. When, considerably revived, they returned to the bedrooms, they found that Pedro had removed the gaudy garments they had been wearing and, instead, laid out for them the type of suit that up-country white men wore in that part of the world. Richard had just put his on, and found that it fitted not too badly, when there came a knock at his door. He called ‘Come in’, and Silvia entered, carrying a tray on which were numerous items for first aid.

  His lips were swollen, his chin and cheek cut, but his worst injury was to his left eye. It was already half closed, and promised to become a glorious ‘shiner’. Having remarked it, Silvia had brought with her a piece of raw meat which she proceeded to lay on it and securely bandage in place. She smeared a healing salve on his mouth and the cuts, then lightly powdered over the latter.

  Standing back, she said with a laugh, ‘Poor Mr Eaton, you do look a guy. How very distressing for such a handsome fellow. But, never mind. In a day or two you will again be an Adonis.’

  Regarding her coldly with his remaining eye, he said sullenly, ‘Not if your so-called “associates” get at me again. And why you should think me good-looking, I’ve no idea. Apart from my wife, No one else tells me so.’

  ‘But you are,’ she insisted. ‘You’re the perfect type of the well-born English gentleman, whom I have always admired. How old is your wife?’

  ‘I should say she is the best part of ten years younger than you.’

  Silvia laughed again. ‘But a man is as old as he feels, and a woman as old as she looks; so if she is forty or so I’ll bet she couldn’t compete with me. It is part of my reward for doing what I do that I keep my face and figure so that I look not more than thirty.’

  ‘I see. So you really are a witch?’

  ‘Indeed I am. I can raise a wind, cast spells and make love potions.’

  ‘I’ll bet you couldn’t make one that would affect me,’ remarked Richard aggressively.

  ‘I could, given the right ingredients. I’d need a lapwing, bull’s gall, the fat of a white hen, ants’ eggs, the eyes of a black cat, musk, myrrh, frankincense, red storax, mestic, olibenum, saffron, benzoin and valerian.’

  ‘God, what a brew! It would stink to high heaven. No man in his senses could be persuaded to swallow it.’

  ‘A horrid mess, I agree,’ she laughed, ‘and I’ve never resorted to it. You’d be surprised, though, what I could do with a few of your nail-parings, let alone a neat little clipping of your pubic hair. But, in my case, such aids are not really necessary. I’ve never failed to get a man I wanted with my own resources.’

  Richard gave her a half-admiring, half-surly look. ‘I’ve rarely seen a woman better equipped with what it takes. But, if you have designs on me, you’d better indent for the cat’s eyes and bull’s gall.’

  ‘Don’t worry, darling,’ she laughed again. ‘I just couldn’t bear to wake up in the morning and see your face on my pillow, as it looks at present. But in a few days you will be your handsome self once more. Then we’ll see,’

  ‘I don’t think we will. But, while we are on the subject, I’d like you to tell me something. As you know, Aron and I were onlookers at that so-called “barbecue” which took place out at Glasshill’s house. After the feast, everyone let themselves go with a vengeance. But you remained sitting up on the table. As you are so keen on that sort of thing, why didn’t you join in?’

  ‘Because I am the “Maiden”.’

  ‘Oh come! With two or three marriages and what all behind you, you can hardly claim to be a virgin.’

  ‘The Maiden does not have to be. It is a rank in the hierarchy of the true priesthood. Joan of Arc held that rank and openly acknowledged it.’

  Richard frowned. ‘I know that we English burnt Joan of Arc as a witch, but all the world knows that she was a saint.’

  ‘She was a prisoner of the English, but it was not they who condemned her to be burned at the stake. It was a tribunal of the Christian Inquisition, presided over by the Bishop of Beauvais. From the account of her trial, it emerges quite clearly that she was not a Christian. Her religious instruction was given to her by her godmother, who was known to consort with the “little people” who were steeped in the lore of magic.

  A few minutes later Pedro came to collect the three prisoners, and led them down a flight of stairs to a long room divided by partly-drawn, heavy curtains. The part the door led into was a lounge, furnished with armchairs, tables beside them and, on one side, a cocktail bar. Through the gap between the curtains, they could see a dining table. Silvia was standing near the bar; as they came she asked them, ‘What can I make you? I seem to remember, though, that you like champagne. It’s here if you prefer it.’

  Simon nodded. Richard said he would like a Planter’s Punch if that was not too much trouble. To the surprise of his friends, de Richleau declared himself to be a tee-totaller, and said he would have only a glass of water.

  Deftly Silvia produced the drinks, then she said: ‘I’ve been given a rough idea of your recent doings, and you must all be rather tired; so perhaps it would be better if we put off talking of why you have been brought here and all that sort of thing, until you’ve had a chance to relax and fortify yourselves with a meal.’

  De Richleau inclined his head. ‘As we are in your hands, Madame, that is considerate of you. We arrived here in very poor shape, but our baths have freshened us up and, as we slept for twenty-four hours between the time of our capture and this morning, none of us is in urgent need of sleep. Naturally we are anxious to know the intentions of your … your associates towards us. But that can quite well wait until after we have dined.’

  Silvia smiled. ‘How wise of you not to press for an immediate explanation. But, of course, we have found out a great deal about you and, as an Adept, you will have trained yourself to patience.’

  The only people comparable to them were the Romans,’ said the Duke, ‘both as road builders and administrators. Moreover, the Romans had the enormous advantage of being able to read and write, whereas the Incas could do neither. They had to send their messages and keep their records by means of bunches of coloured strings, in which they tied knots at varying intervals.’

  When they had done full justice to a meal ending with a savoury of flamingo tongues, Silvia asked them to make themselves comfortable in the lounge end of the room, and left them for ten minutes. On her return, she settled herself in a low armchair, crossed her peerless legs so that they were displayed to the best advantage, and said:

  ‘You must be aware that your investigation into Rex’s disappearance has aroused against you a most powerful enemy, and brought you into great danger. About the reason for Rex’s leaving Buenos Aires I, of course, lied to you. I was ordered to, as it was hoped that, believing my story that he had committed murder, you would call off your hunt for fear that you might lead the police to him. However, I now give you my word that he is well, cheerful and has no regrets about what he has done. More than that, for the time being I am forbidden to tell you. Most unfortunately, I failed to stall you off, with the result that you have found out many things that we regard as most important to keep secret. In consequence, you now have only one way in which you can escape paying for that with your lives.’

  They had all been mellowed by an excellent dinner. Only the Duke had refused all alcohol, but he had special resources upon which he could draw to restore his vitality and, with the dessert, Silvia had served to Richard and Simon as a liqueur an elixir that had counteracted the fatigue they would normally have felt after such a very tiring day. So Richard asked quite amiably:

  ‘Tell us what it is.’

  ‘You must reassess your spiritual values.’

  ‘How d’you mean?’

  ‘By accepting and worshipping the True God.’

  ‘Meaning the Devil,’ Simon put in, and gave a slight shudder. ‘No, thank you. Few years ago I got in pretty deep with a Master of the Left-H
and Path. But de Richleau saved me, thank God. Never again.’

  She smiled at him. Then your friend did you a great disservice. And you are wrong to refer to the True God as “the Devil”. That is only the name bestowed upon him in hatred and fear by his enemies, the Christians who denied him. It was invented by them as late as the Middle Ages.’ Glancing at the Duke, she added, ‘Am I not right?’

  He nodded. ‘Yes, there are many mentions of-demons and evil spirits from the earliest times, but none of the Devil until the Christian Church began to get the upper hand in its war against paganism in the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries.’

  Richard gave him a doubting look. ‘Oh come! Nearly all the monarchs in Europe were Christians the best part of a thousand years before that.’

  ‘It is true that many kings, queens and nobles were converted by missionaries sent from Rome during what we term the Dark Ages. But it is reasonable to believe that they accepted the new faith only on the old principle that it was bad policy to refuse to acknowledge any god, in case he took offence and did you a mischief. That belief was prevalent in the Roman world, and they had inherited it. Christianity did not secure a serious hold in Britain until well after the Norman conquest. There were, of course, many priests and priestesses of the old religion, and everybody knew who they were, but very few were brought to trial as witches until early Stuart times. In fact, the first witch trial ever to be held in England did not occur until the reign of King John, and then it was brought against a Jew who, in spite of the wave of anti-Jewish feeling at that time, was found not guilty.’

  ‘Thank you, Duke,’ Silvia said. ‘And one can add that, even during Norman and Plantagenet times, Christians were in the minority. Only the upper classes endowed monasteries and were in favour of the Crusades. The great majority of the people still followed the true religion. That was recognised by those who tried to put an end to it. And, even when its votaries were driven to hold their ceremonies in secret, they were still a great power in the land. One has only to recall the origin of the Order of the Garter.’

  ‘What has that to do with it?’ Richard asked.

  ‘The account of how it happened is well known. At a ball, the Countess of Salisbury’s jewelled garter fell off. She was the mistress of King Edward III, and was dancing with him. He snatched it up and founded a new Order of twenty-six knights, including himself and the Prince of Wales. Covens always consist of thirteen members, so he had created two new covens, with himself and the Prince as their Grand Masters.’

  ‘I don’t see why you believe them to be covens, or what seizing the lady’s garter has to do with paganism.’

  ‘From the earliest times the insignia of the Chief of a coven has always been a string worn round the left kg, below the knee. There is a prehistoric painting in the caves at Cogul, showing a dance in which a figure is wearing one. The Countess was the “Maiden” or, as you would put it, the Queen Witch of England, and the King knew it. By securing her garter, he supplanted her. It gave him power over the many thousands of people in his kingdom who still followed the Old Faith. And he did not look on them as evil people, because he held the garter aloft and cried “Honi soit qui mal y pense”—“Evil be to him who evil thinks”—and took that for the motto of the new Order.

  Richard remarked with a slight sneer, ‘You’ll be telling us next that, just because Jesus Christ and His disciples numbered thirteen, they, too, were a coven.’

  ‘They were,’ she retorted swiftly. ‘Jesus spent many years in the wilderness, training Himself to become a Magister Templar, the highest of all grades of occultists. That is why He was able to draw down the power to perform many miracles, and they were all what you would term white magic—for the benefit, not of Himself, but others. It was only later that the message He brought was distorted. When He spoke of God the Father, He was referring to the True God—the God of Love.’

  ‘Ner,’ Simon shook his head stubbornly. ‘He was speaking of Jehovah. Plenty of evidence of that.’

  ‘Only from people who were writing many years after Christ’s death, the men who, for their own evil ends, perverted His teachings. Jehovah was the God of Hate; the terrible primitive entity whose jealousy had to be appeased by burnt offerings—and this horror still, today, remains the supreme deity of the Christian religion.’

  ‘Nobody really believes that any more.’

  Silvia gave a little laugh. ‘Of course they don’t. But that does not alter the fact that, through St Paul and other masochistic fanatics, Jehovah succeeded in inflicting incalculable frustration and suffering on many millions of people. His priests—the priests of the Christian Church—made a virtue of suffering. They preached self-denial; that all enjoyment was wicked. They urged the people to fast and scourge themselves, and live in dirt and squalor. They coerced them into confessing their so-called sins and, as a penalty for having succumbed to pleasure, ordered them to wear hair shirts. They stigmatised the divinely-given urge of men and women to give physical expression to their lives, as lust. Contrary to nature, they decreed that a man and woman could choose only one partner for life and, even then, cohabit only for the purpose of begetting children.’

  Silvia paused to light a cigarette, then went on, ‘In ancient times, the True God was accepted and revered in all the great civilisations. Often, a special devotion was shown by sects to various aspects of His power and personified in the many minor gods that made up the Pantheons of Chaldea, Egypt, India, Greece and Rome; but all acknowledged the supreme entity. It is only in recent centuries that the evil heresies of the Dark Power have gained a formidable foothold in many nations.

  ‘That is why I am urging you to readjust your spiritual values. Because, in a great part of the world those who realised the truth have been forced to conduct their ceremonies in secret, you have been brought up to believe that they worship the powers of Darkness. But that is not so. It is they who continue to carry the torch that they know in their hearts to have been ignited from the source of Eternal Light.’

  De Richleau smiled. ‘Madame, I congratulate you on having presented an excellent case. I grant you that the early Christians perverted the teachings of Christ, and that the priests of His Church have inflicted untold misery on millions of people. But you have neglected to mention that the Old religion has also been perverted by its priests. Time was when they served the True God well. They were the doctors who healed the sick, the confidants who advised people wisely when in trouble, and they presided over those ceremonies at which the masses could for get the drudgery of every-day life, in feasting, revelry and in giving full licence to their sexual urges. Such Saturnalia were an admirable outlet for the frustrations of mankind. Were they permitted today, addiction to drugs would be almost unknown and one in every seven of the population of the United States would not have to go into homes for the cure of alcoholism or mental instability. But times have changed.

  ‘The power of a faith increases or wanes in accordance with the number of people who believe in it. As the Old religion was gradually suppressed, the number of its true priests dwindled. At length they lost their authority, and by the Middle Ages, had been supplanted by evil persons who promised their followers gratifications they had not earned. That is contrary to the Logos. The cult became one of Darkness, instead of Light.

  ‘It was used by the unscrupulous to inflict pain and loss on their enemies. To gain their ends, people trafficked with demons: the emissaries of Satan the Destroyer who, from the beginning, has waged war against the Powers of Light.

  ‘They served him in a thousand ways to sow dissension and substitute chaos for law and order. In many cases their activities brought about wide-spread misery. So, you see, misguided as the clergy of the Christian Churches may have been in many matters, they were right in stigmatising this evil power by naming it the Devil.’

  ‘It is clear to me that you need further instruction,’ said a firm, male voice.

  Amazed that anyone could have entered the room in complete silence,
the three friends automatically turned their heads to look over their shoulders. Yet there was No one there, and the voice seemed to have come from behind Silvia’s chair. Swivelling their heads back, they stared at her.

  As they did so, a bright light appeared above and beyond her crown of hair. A mauve mist began to swirl round the light as though it was the vortex of a miniature cyclone. The misi thickened and took form, coalescing so that it had the outline of a man. Another moment and it had solidified, so that they found themselves gaping at a tall, slim, handsome human, as much flesh and blood as themselves.

  Richard instantly recognised this apparition which had so startlingly materialised. It was the man who, in Buenos Aires had introduced him to von Thumm. It was Don Salvador Marino.

  13

  Black Power

  Silvia had come to her feet, swung round and made a low curtsy. Don Salvador touched her on the shoulder and, as she rose, said: ‘My dear, you did well. Your arguments were cogent and, of course, based on the truth. But the understanding of our friends is still obscured by the beliefs of a lifetime. That they should hold them so stubbornly is regrettable. But I do not despair of bringing them to see reason.’

  The three friends had all instantly stood up. Richard, hardly able to believe that he was not dreaming, gasped, ‘We met you in Buenos Aires. You … you are…’

  ‘Yes.’ The tall man gave his enchanting smile. ‘You knew me there as Don Salvador Marino. But I take precautions against it becoming suspected that I am in any way associated with what goes on here. It was clear to me that you, and your friend Aron, would prove not only persistent in your enquiries about Van Ryn, but were also highly intelligent; so you might possibly have got on his trail. That was why I used von Thumm as an intermediary and had him send you to my charming associate, the “Maiden”. Here I am known as the “Prince”.’