The Devil Rides Out ddr-6

by Dennis Wheatley

  Then, taking five long white tapering candles, such as are offered by devotees to the Saints in Catholic Churches, he lit them from an old-fashioned tinder-box and set them upright, one at each apex of the five-pointed star. In their rear he placed the five brand new horseshoes which Richard had secured from the village with their horns pointing outward, and beyond each vase of holy water he set a dried mandrake, four females and one male, the male being in the valley to the north.

  These complicated formulas for the erection of outward barriers being at last finished, the Duke turned his attention to the individual protection of his friends and himself. Four long wreaths of garlic flowers were strung together and each of the party placed one about his neck. Rosaries, with little golden crucifixes attached, were distributed, medals of Saint Benedict holding the Cross in his right hand and the Holy Rule in his left, and phials of salt and mercury; lengths of the asafoetida grass were again tied round Simon’s wrists and ankles, and he was placed in their midst facing towards the north. The Duke then performed the final rites of sealing the nine openings of each of their bodies.

  All this performance had entirely failed to impress Richard. In fact, it tended to revive his earlier scepticism. It was his private belief that a blackmailing gang were playing tricks upon Simon and the Duke so, before coming downstairs, he had tucked a loaded automatic comfortably away beneath his pyjama jacket. In deference to De Richleau’s obvious concern that nothing soiled should be brought within the circle he had first, half-ashamedly, cleansed the weapon in a bath of spirit but, if Mr. Mocata was so ill-advised as to break into his house that night with the intention of staging any funny business, he meant to use it. After a little pause he looked cheerfully round at the others. ‘Well—here we are! What happens now?’

  ‘We have ample room here,’ replied De Richleau, ‘so there is no reason why we should not lie down with our feet towards the rim of the circle and try to get some sleep, but there are certain instructions I would like to give you before we settle down.’

  ‘I never felt less like sleep in my life,’ remarked Simon.

  ‘Nor I,’ agreed Richard. ‘It’s early yet and if only Marie Lou weren’t here I’d tell you some bawdy stories to keep you gay.’

  ‘Don’t mind me, darling,’ cooed Marie Lou. ‘I’m human— even if you are right about my having an angelic face.’

  ‘No!’ He shook his head quickly. ‘Somehow they fail to amuse me when you’re about. That’s why I never tell you any. It needs men on their own sitting round a bottle of something to get the best of a bawdy jest. My God ! I wish we’d got a bottle of brandy with us now!’

  ‘Mean pig,’ she murmured amiably, snuggling up against him. ‘If Greyeyes and Simon didn’t know you so well they would think you nothing but an awful little drunk from the way you talk, whereas you’re a nice person really.’

  ‘Am I? Well, anyway, it’s fine that you should think so.’ He fondled her short curly hair with his long fingers. ‘My present lust for liquor is only because I’ve been done out of my fair ration today. But what shall we talk about? Greyeyes—this Talisman that all the bother centres on—tell us about it before you give us your final orders for the night.’

  ‘You know the legend of Isis and Osiris?’ the Duke asked.

  ‘Yes—vaguely,’ Richard replied. ‘They were the King and Queen of Heaven who came to earth in human form and taught the Egyptians all they knew, weren’t they? The old business of a fair-haired god arriving among a dusky people and importing all sorts of new ideas about agriculture and architecture and justice—in fact—what we call civilisation.’

  De Richleau nodded. ‘That is so. But I mean the story of how Osiris came to die?’

  ‘He was murdered, wasn’t he?’ volunteered Simon. ‘But I’ve forgotten how.’

  ‘Well, this is the account which has been handed down to us through many thousands of years. Osiris was, apparently, as Richard says, a fair-haired, light-skinned man, alien to the Egyptian race, who became their King and, ruling them with great intelligence, brought them many blessings. But he had a brother named Set—and here again you get the two principals of Good and Evil, Light and Darkness—for Set was a dark man. The legend is, of course, apocryphal up to a point but, eliminating the overlay of myth with which the priests later embroidered it, the whole story had such a genuine ring of human tragedy that it is very difficult to doubt that these two men and the woman Isis actually lived, as the progenitors of a Royal dynasty, in the Nile valley long before the Pyramids were built.

  ‘It always amazes me, whenever I re-read the story in the Greek Classics, how Set, particularly, stands out as a definite and living figure after all these countless generations. The characters in our seventeenth century plays even are quite unreal to us now —with a very few exceptions; but Set remains, timeless and unchanging, the charming but unscrupulous rogue who might have entertained you with lavish hospitality and brilliant conversation yesterday—yet would do you down without the least compunction if he met you in the street tomorrow.

  ‘He was tall and slim and dark and handsome; a fine athlete and a great hunter, but a cultured, amusing person too, and a boon companion who knew how to carry his wine at table. The type whose lapses men are always ready to condone on account of their delightful personality, and those wickedness women persuade themselves is only waywardness—while they succumb almost at a glance to that dark male virility.

  ‘Set was younger than Osiris and jealous of his authority. Then he fell in love with Isis, his brother’s wife. The old story of the human triangle you see, or rather the original, for all others in the whole literature of the world which deal with the same subjects are plagiarisms. Set conspired, therefore, to slay the King and seize his wife and power for himself.

  ‘To assassinate Osiris openly would have been a difficult matter because he was always surrounded by the other nobles, who loved him and knew that he kept the peace while the land flourished and grew prosperous. Set knew that they would defend the King’s person with their lives, and he was faced with another problem too. Osiris was a god, and even if he could lure him to a place where the deed could be done in secret, he dared not spill one drop of the divine blood.

  ‘He planned then a superlatively clever murder. You all know that the Egyptians considered this present life to be only an interlude and that almost from the age at which they could think at all their thoughts were largely focused on the life to come. Many of them spent their entire fortune upon preparing some magnificent place of burial for themselves, and at every banquet, when the slaves served the dessert, the head wine butler carried round a miniature coffin with a skeleton inside to remind the guests that death was waiting round the corner for them all.

  ‘With diabolical cunning, Set utilised the national preoccupation with death and ceremonial burial to ensnare his brother. First, by a clever piece of trickery he secured Osiris’s exact measurements. Then he had made the most beautiful sarcophagus that had ever been seen. It was a great heavy chest of fine cedar wood with the figures of the forty-two assessors of the dead, who form the jury of the gods, painted in lapis blue, and the minutest hieroglyphics in black and red; line upon line of them reciting the most effective protections against black magic, and every requisite line of ritual from the great Book of the Dead.

  ‘As soon as this wonderful coffin was completed, Set prepared a great banquet to which he invited Osiris and seventy-two of the younger nobles, all of whom he had corrupted and drawn one by one into his conspiracy.

  ‘Then on the night of the feast he had the beautiful sarcophagus placed in a small anteroom through which every guest had to pass on his arrival.

  ‘You can imagine how envious they were when they saw it, and how each commented on the excellence of the workmanship and the artistry of the designs—Osiris no less than the others.

  ‘They dined, drank heavily of wine, watched the Egyptian dancing girls, saw Ethiopian contortionists, and listened to the best stringed music of the da
y. Then as a final hospitality to his guests, the Prince Set rose from his couch and proclaimed:

  ‘“You have all seen the sarcophagus which stands in the little anteroom, and it is my wish that one of you should receive it as a gift. He whom it fits may take it with my blessing.”

  ‘Picture to yourselves the nobles as they scrambled up from their couches, thrusting the dancing girls aside, and elbowing their way out into the anteroom, each hoping that the princely gift might fall to him.

  ‘One after another they got inside and lay down, but not one of them fitted it exactly. Then Set led Osiris into the anteroom and, waving his hand towards the handsome chest said with a little laugh : “Why don’t you try it brother. It is worthy of a King. Even of the Lord of the Two Lands, the Upper and the Lower Nile.”

  ‘With a smile Osiris lowered himself into the masterpiece. And behold, it fitted his tall, broad-shouldered body to a hair’s breadth. No sooner was he inside than the principal conspirators, who were in the secret, rushed forward with the weighty lid. In frantic haste they nailed it down and poured molten lead upon it, so that Osiris may have survived an hour in agony but died at last of suffocation.

  ‘Set thus succeeded in his treacherous design of killing his brother without spilling one drop of his blood. He and his turbulent followers then hastened to their chariots, rode forth, and seized the Kingdom. But Isis was warned in time and managed to escape.

  The coffer had been left with Osiris in it and, the Egyptian religion being so strongly bound up with the worship of the dead, it was vital to Set’s newly established authority that the body should be disposed of at the earliest possible moment. Otherwise, if the priests got hold of it, they would bury it in state and erect a mighty shrine to the dead King’s memory which would form a rallying point for all the best elements in the Kingdom where they would league themselves against the murderer.

  ‘Next morning, therefore, immediately he got home, Set had the chest cast into the Nile. But Isis recovered it, and after certain magical ceremonies, succeeded in impregnating herself by means of her husband’s dead body. Then she fled to the papyrus marshes of the Delta, taking Osiris’ body with her in the chest since there was no time to give it proper burial.

  ‘When Set learned what had happened, he swore that he would hunt Isis down and kill her, and that he would find Osiris’ body and destroy it for ever.

  ‘Again now, in the story, we get one of those strange glimpses of happenings many thousands of years ago which we can see more clearly than the things of yesterday.

  ‘In a few phrases it is recounted how Set searched for months in vain, and then one night, the pregnant ex-Queen Isis, now a destitute refugee alone and unattended, is seated beneath a cluster of palm trees in the desert. Her husband’s body, roughly embalmed, is in the wooden chest beside her and she is conscious of the movements of the child she bears. Suddenly her sorrowful meditations are disturbed by a distant rumble breaking the stillness of the night. The noise increases to a drumming thunder as a party of horsemen come galloping across the sand. Isis runs for cover to a nearby papyrus swamp and crouches waist high in the water watching from amidst the reeds. The dusky riders come thundering past. She sees that it is Set and his dissolute nobles hunting by the brilliant light of the Egyptian moon. One of them recognises the chest. With cries of triumph they fling themselves from their saddles, break it to pieces and drag out the body of Osiris. Hidden there, fearful and trembling, Isis watches Set’s dark, proud profile as he orders the body to be torn into fourteen pieces and the parts distributed throughout the length and breadth of the Kingdom so that they might never be brought together again.

  ‘Years later, Horus, the son of Isis, the Great God, the Hawk of Light, who restored its blessings to mankind and lifted again the veil of darkness that Set’s treachery had brought to dim the world, became the master of the Kingdom. Then Isis roamed the country seeking for the dismembered portions of her husband. She did not attempt to assemble them again, but wherever she found one she erected a great temple to his memory. In all, she succeeded in finding thirteen pieces of the body, but the fourteenth she never found. That Set had carefully embalmed and kept himself. It was for this reason that, although Horus defeated Set three times in battle he was never able to slay him. The portion that Set retained was the most potent of all charms—the phallus of the dead god, his brother.

  ‘In the secret histories of esoterism it is stated that it has since been heard of many times. For long periods through the ages it has been completely lost. But whenever it is found it brings calamity upon the world, and that is the thing which we have to prevent Mocata securing at all costs today—the Talisman of Set.’

  When De Richleau had ceased speaking, they sat silent for a while until Marie Lou said softly : ‘I am feeling rather tired now, Greyeyes, dear, and I think I’d like to rest, even if it is impossible to sleep with all these lights.’

  ‘All right. Then I’ll say what I have to Princess. But please, all of you’ — the Duke paused to look at each of them in turn — ‘listen carefully, because this is vitally serious.

  ‘What may happen I have no idea. Perhaps nothing at all and the worst we’ll have to face is an uncomfortable night. But Mocata threatened to get Simon away from us by hook or by crook, and I feel certain that he meant it. I cannot tell you what form his attack is likely to take, but I am sure he will literally do his damnedest to break us up and get Simon out of our care tonight.

  ‘He may send the most terrible powers against us, but there is one thing above all others that I want you to remember. As long as we stay inside this pentacle we shall be safe, but if any of us sets one foot outside it we risk eternal damnation.

  ‘We may be called upon to witness the sort of horrors which it is difficult for you to conceive. I mean visions such as you have read of in Gustave Flaubert’s Temptation of Saint Anthony, or seen in pictures of the old Flemish masters such as Brueghel. But they cannot do us the least harm as long as we remain where we are.

  ‘Again, we may see nothing, but the attack may develop in a far more subtle form. That is to say, inside ourselves. Any, or all of us, may find our reason being undermined by insidious argument so that we may start telling each other that there is nothing in the world to be frightened of and that we are true fools to spend a miserable night sitting here when we might all be comfortably in bed upstairs. If that happens, it is a lie. Even if I appear to change my mind and tell you that I have thought of new arrangements which would be safer, you must not believe me because it will not be my true self speaking. It may be that an awful thirst will come upon us. That is why I have had this big jug of water brought in. We may be assailed by hunger, but to meet that we have the fruit. It is possible that we may be afflicted with earache or some other bodily pain which, ordinarily, would make us want to go upstairs to seek relief. If that happens we’ve just got to stick it till the morning.

  ‘Poor old Simon is likely to be afflicted worst because the campaign will centre on an attempt to make him break out of the circle. But we’ve got to stop him—by force, if need be. There are two main defences which we can bring into play if any manifestations do take place, as I fear they may.

  ‘One is the Blue vibration. Shut your eyes and try to think of yourselves as standing in an oval of blue light. The oval is your aura, and the colour blue exceedingly potent in all things pertaining to the spirit; the other is prayer. Do not endeavour to make up complicated prayers or your words may become muddled and you will find yourself saying something that you do not mean. Confine yourselves to saying over and over again: “Oh, Lord, protect me! Oh, Lord, protect me!” and not only say it but think it with all the power of your will, visualising, if you can, Our Lord upon the Cross with blue light streaming from His body towards yourselves; but if you think you see Him outside this pentacle beckoning you to safety while some terrible thing threatens you from the other side, still you must remain within.’

  As De Richleau finished there was a mu
rmur of assent. Then Richard, with an arm about Marie Lou’s shoulders said quietly: ‘I understand, and we’ll do everything you say.’

  ‘Thank you. Now, Simon,’ the Duke went on, ‘I want you to say clearly and distinctly seven times, “Om meni padme aum.” That is the invocation to manathaer—your higher self.’

  Simon did as he was bid, then they knelt together and each offered a silent prayer that the Power of Light might guard and protect them from all uncleanness, and that each might be granted strength to aid the others should they be faced with any peril.

  They lay down then and tried to rest despite the burning candles and the soft glow of the electric light. Sleep was utterly impossible to them in such circumstances. Yet no one there had more to say upon the point that mattered and, after a little time, no one felt that they could break the stillness by endeavouring to make ordinary conversation.

  The steady ticking of a clock came faintly from somewhere in the depths of the house. Occasionally a log fell with a loud plop and hissed for a moment in the fire grate. Then the little noises of the night were hushed, and an immense silence, brooding and mysterious, seemed to have fallen upon them. In some strange way it did not seem as though the quiet octagonal room was any longer a portion of the house or that outside the window lay the friendly, well-cared-for garden that they knew so well. Watchful, listening, intent, they lay silent, waiting to see what the night would bring.

  CHAPTER XXVI

  REX LEARNS OF THE UNDEAD

  Tanith slept peacefully, curled up in Rex’s arms, her golden head pillowed upon his chest. For a little time anxious thoughts occupied his mind. He reproached himself for having left Simon, and the gnawing worm of doubt raised its head again to whisper that Tanith had planned to lure him away from protecting his friend, but he dismissed such thoughts almost immediately. Simon would be safe enough in the care of Richard and Marie Lou. Tanith was alone and needed him, and he soon convinced himself that in remaining there he was breaking a lance against the enemy as well, by preventing Mocata securing her again to assist him, all unwillingly, in his hostilities.