Libussa was testy. ‘I’ve said nothing of all that, Sir. I must soon address Captain von Bek in private.’
But I was alert. ‘You predicted my coming? You saw me in your mirror?’
Prince Miroslav seemed now to be embarrassed. He re-lit his pipe, shrugged, glanced at me as if in apology. ‘One cannot always be sure.’ He subsided. It was always strange to see a large man display the discomfort most of us know. He looked for a moment like a bear which had danced the wrong measure. St Odhran, on the other hand, was grinning in triumph. He wore the self-satisfied air of one whose suspicions had been confirmed. When I looked searchingly at my Duchess all she could do was murmur a line or two from Goethe (Ist Gehorsam in dem Gemüt, Wird nicht fern, die Liebe sein) and promise me, with an inconspicuous movement of her head, further revelation in due course.
Klosterheim got up, unsettled by this exchange. ‘Our duty,’ he said, ‘is to proceed with as much honesty as possible.’
‘And frankness,’ said St Odhran sardonically. ‘Eh, Madam?’
‘A lie is like an impurity in an element,’ agreed Prince Miroslav. ‘It makes useless any elixir, no matter how carefully mixed or in what auspicious circumstances. The lie will always cloud, distort, damage.’
But Libussa had an answer. ‘Sometimes the impurity proves to be the most important ingredient, however. And leads to discovery, puts us a little further along our path. Your mirror for instance.’
Prince Miroslav spoke with quiet reluctance. ‘The Art and its principles have changed a great deal since I first put on the adept’s gown.’ His attitude towards her was strange, slightly mistrustful yet very respectful, an old master in the presence of a young genius; one who was enthusiastic and clever but still had much to learn.
‘Now,’ said Libussa, anxious not to lose his good graces, ‘I was promised admission to your laboratory.’
‘The promise will be kept.’ His voice lifted. ‘Now?’
‘I’m eager, Sir.’ She was a winning coquette and I winced to see her adopt the part, but my Libussa would use any rôle to obtain what she desired, that I already knew.
‘What’s the mystery, I wonder,’ said the Scot to me when the others had gone. ‘Are they making gold down there, d’ye think, von Bek?’
His presumption amused me. ‘Aye! Twenty ingots a day from rusty nails and old knives. St Odhran, these are adepts of the so-called “exotic” faith. They disdain experiments in metallic transmutation.’
‘I lack your familiarity with the Rosey Cross,’ he said sourly. ‘I’ll wager, though, there’s gold to be found a-plenty round this business. But what of you, von Bek. Does none of this alarm you?’
‘Because a magic glass predicted my arrival?’ I shook my head. Libussa’s influence had banished my previous terrors; my mood was one of faint elation. I was certain Libussa promised love to me, if only to ensure my help. Therefore, contrary-wise, I was somewhat unsuspicious of her. I was glad to be in this city and reunited with my goddess; glad to be free of the Old World’s horror. St Odhran, of course, saw my euphoria as sheer folly and my manner towards him one of unwelcome condescension. I rose and walked to where he sat. I placed a hand upon his arm. ‘Dear friend, I accept your instinct’s warning. We must be careful. We must recall by what trickery we were brought here. But that’s no reason for discrediting everything or everyone!’
‘I merely recall that Klosterheim commanded the brute who slew our Landgräfin,’ said St Odhran grimly. ‘We were given no choice in this affair. We were made to cross the borders at pistol-point. An action lacking finesse. These people will do anything they must to ensure our involvement in their schemes. That lady has a power which unnerves me, von Bek.’
‘Would you claim a woman has no right to power?’
‘If she were of the masculine race I’d still fear her.’
‘She’s clearly a disciple of Wollstonecraft and works towards the equality of women!’ I was still disposed to justify the behaviour of others by interpreting their actions according to my own beliefs.
‘She works for herself alone!’ St Odhran was all scepticism. ‘If she be a supporter of the Common Woman’s Rights, von Bek, she’s put a great many people to a deal of trouble without advancing that cause any further. Strange to me that what you see as plain in Robespierre you cannot recognise at all in Milady!’
‘You accuse her of self-interest? What’s wrong with that?’ I defended her, yet I did not altogether care whether she was noble or degenerate, for her character was not what I loved. It was her sense and her sensuality I admired. No night with her could be without its fresh discovery. I felt as if an entire creature were about to inhabit my body. That creature would be feminine while the creature she explored would be masculine. And the sum of the two of us would be godlike, a culmination of human passion and wisdom, with masculine and feminine undivided. As in my dream. She had spoken of Unity. My family had educated me to believe harmony all-important. Do you the Devil’s work took clearer meaning now!
‘She’s a witch,’ he said, very serious. ‘You’re mesmerised.’
‘I’m trapped, St Odhran,’ said I very quickly to him, as if the truth would only stay with me for a little while. ‘By my fascination for her. I feel that I am discovering myself.’
‘Those are the words of a lovesick convent-novice, Sir!’
‘Believe me, my dear friend, this is profound. Even should it prove destructive to me, the exploration will still be justified. I’m her slave.’
He shook his head, looking at me askance. ‘My poor von Bek! Och, I’ll do my best to see you cured when this is over, but I’ll not encourage you further.’ He fell silent for a while, thinking deeply. Then he added: ‘Don’t let them take anything from you save what you want to give. And try to remember you possess something of great value to them. How you bargain with them could mean at some point if you live or if you die…’
I was puzzling over this when the others returned, babbling in alchemical argot. My Libussa’s face was flushed with enthusiasm while Klosterheim’s chin was tucked down into his horrible neck as he mulled over what he had seen.
‘It will be ready at the Concordance,’ said Prince Miroslav.
‘Your price is too high.’ Klosterheim’s voice was somewhat outraged, almost emotional.
‘Not to me,’ said the Duchess of Crete.
Klosterheim stopped in his tracks, but Libussa, radiant on Coromcko’s huge arm, carried on into the room, smiling at me, her eyes narrowing a little as she acknowledged St Odhran. Perhaps she saw him as a rival. She had nothing to fear from him, however. He was a friend and a good one.
‘Today,’ said Prince Miroslav, ‘is the last of the sun. Tomorrow, when the Stars begin their long rule, you must present yourselves to the Sebastocrator, for he’ll have awakened to reign through the coming Seasons. It will be in his time the Concordance shall occur.
Libussa now crossed to me, taking my hand naturally, as a child might. My body sprang to life again. It had been almost without sensation since I parted from her. My mind was bereft of thought. Klosterheim looked at her quickly, showing consternation. She smiled at him.
‘You must not…’ he began. Then he regretted speaking. With a sudden step he went to St Odhran. ‘What of you?’
‘I, Sir?’ The Scot was baffled.
Klosterheim frowned, as if trying to recall the reason for his question. ‘What of you, Sir?’
Guarded, St Odhran stared back at Klosterheim and the rest of the company from his disarming, sleeping eyes. ‘I’ve no specific engagements at present, Sir.’
‘Good,’ said Klosterheim. ‘I’d talk with you. I…’ Again he had difficulty recollecting words. He looked down at the floor. ‘You’ll permit me to show you more of this Mirenburg?’ His poor, gaunt features were oddly innocent.
‘Much obliged, Sir. Thanks.’ St Odhran’s tone was light and casual, though his gaze was anything but: virtually his entire attention was concentrated upon me. ‘Ye’ll join us too,
won’t ye, von Bek?’
‘Well?’ she asked me. There was pressure from her fingers on my hand.
‘Gladly,’ I said. ‘But later.’ She commanded me, like an expert rider, with tone and touch. I had no choice but to gallop whichever way her whim dictated. ‘I must debate with her grace.’
St Odhran was disgusted. He turned his back on us and walked towards the door. He bowed to Prince Miroslav. ‘Sir. Most grateful. Your servant.’
‘You’ll dine with us, Sir?’ said the Prince.
‘At what time, Sir? At seven? Very well, Sir.’ St Odhran and Klosterheim, unlikely comrades, strolled out to the warmth of the street. Prince Miroslav left to attend to his tubes and crucibles. My lady led me up a flight of stairs. A long passage cut the house on the next floor, running the length of it. She took me to a door halfway down on the right. Hot sunshine filled the room as we entered. There were shrubs and flowers growing everywhere in pots and baskets. I would swear I heard bees hum. It was a country garden, and at its centre was a bed spread with sheets of golden silk: a bower enclosed by climbing roses, ivy and honeysuckle. She took me there without preliminaries. She told me to stand at the end of the bed while I undressed. I removed my boots, my stockings. I removed my breeches, my under-breeches. I took off coat, waistcoat, shirt and linen. There was blood on them. I noted I had cut myself slightly on the thumb. She smiled. Now I was fully naked. She looked at me, praising my physical virtues, stroking my body lightly but sending fire into me so that I gasped, then gasped again.
She touched me here and there with her lips. I was close to swooning. She stripped off her bodice and crinoline, her shift, her underclothing, and she too was naked. I looked greedily at the curves of her thighs and breasts. I sank to my knees to bury my lips in her sex, as she desired. My words were incoherent when next I looked up: Nothing I could ever say in the world I had departed. I am yours. I am your lover, your woman and your man. I belong to you as no-one has ever belonged. Command me to anything and I swear I shall obey. These are words from my earlier dreams. Her hands grip hard in my hair. Her face is copper fire, glowing, fierce. She groans. She shudders and looks down at me. Then all that is yours is mine? she says. I reply ecstatically: All. She sighed with contentment. There is time. She takes her satisfaction and therefore gives me mine.
An hour later we were cross-legged on the bed and I had been telling her how much I loved her, how lessened life was since she took the road to Mirenburg without me. Her body was soft yet, as always, seemed to absorb and retain heat: a heat which somehow was never dampened, was her natural temperature, as if great furnaces permanently burned within. Perhaps she did, indeed, serve Satan. I was already half convinced she was immortal. ‘We must find the Grail soon,’ she said. ‘For me. Not for Klosterheim.’
She flung her body into the direct path of the sun’s rays. ‘Klosterheim has no good will for you, Manfred. He would kill you if it gave him the smallest advantage. He has no conscience. Merely an appetite for power which has for too long remained unsatisfied.’
‘I thought him your ally?’
‘Not so. I’m in debt to him, that’s all.’
‘Borrowed money?’
She smiled and rolled over on her back. ‘We’re rich, the Cartagena y Mendoza-Chilperics. We’ve accumulated wealth for centuries, wherever we’ve been. Even those of us killed by the Church left fortunes to the others.’
‘So the debt’s a moral one. Dismiss it.’
‘I’m bound to him by my alchemical oath. It was the only way I could gain his knowledge – that part which was useful to our purposes.’ (When she speaks of us as mutual I’m elated.) ‘It’s taken years to gather all I need. The Grail alone is of no use to me. ’Tis what I place within it that’s crucial to our destiny. And there are significant rituals. All my learning leads towards that…’ She was speaking for the first time with unguarded frankness and I was, of course, flattered, though scarcely comprehending what she said. ‘Klosterheim would pervert all that, calling on arts and rituals so discordant they’d threaten the very fabric of matter. And all for his own barren ends. He has no other ambition but to make himself in Satan’s image so his old master shall recognise him and take him back into Hell’s bosom.’
‘You’ve known of this for long?’
‘I was on my way to France to seek you out when we met at that inn. See how destiny takes its inevitable course? I knew of your family and of you. But I was not fully intelligent of my own fate until Prague. I have had to pose as a man for too long. Only by that means could I achieve what I needed. But now that’s all to be forgotten and I can do what I must do without subterfuge.’ She grew almost melancholy. Starting up in her wonderful nakedness she waded through the mellow light, between the hanging baskets of flowers, and she continued to speak. ‘So we two, the Grail, my own tincture, are almost ready to combine. When the Concordance comes, then the upheavals shall begin and I – you and I – shall merge in triumph to claim our ultimate destiny!’
I had heard such apocalyptic prediction more than once in my revolutionary past, though without the mystical ingredient. My scepticism fought my will to believe her. With an effort I found my voice. ‘This is Robespierre’s logic, Libussa!’
Her dark green eyes burned with outrage as she turned. She advanced upon me. ‘Oh, there’s a difference, little one.’
Her words vibrated with the force of her violent emotion. ‘A singular difference. For I am not Robespierre and he is mere Rhetoric, Hope, Greed. There’s no argument against what I tell you now. Believe me. There is no argument! The world you’ll see shall be so transformed – so perfect in its balance – you would weep if you beheld it now. And ’tis your destiny, as it is mine, to create it!’ She was astride me, my head in her hands, and her breath upon my lips, fit to scald me. ‘That’s what you must understand, Manfred. You are as helpless in what you are as am I. A great destiny binds us together. Linked by more than the Grail we must follow our destiny or wait again through an entire cycle before we, in fresh mortal guise, can begin again! Our moment is here. We are reborn, come together. We have been one and loved as one since the beginning of Time!’
I was gasping. She gripped my head and threatened to squeeze it to pulp, so powerful was her grasp. I cried out. ‘What is my fate? What is it, Libussa?’
She dropped me, looking blankly at me, opening her red lips, she then began to stroke my cheek. There were tears in her eyes now. She moved against me. ‘You cannot be told until the moment. That much is clear from the Book of Ritual. There all was revealed to me. It is the same as the last. The same as the last.’
‘Why not reveal it to me as well?’
She laughed, at once bitter and proud. ‘Because I’m the Active Force and you’re the Passive. As it must be if the alchemy is to work. Ask no further questions! Do as I instruct and you’ll enjoy such ecstasy, such fulfilment, you’ll come to know what it is to be a truly sentient, sensuous living creature! We drive towards the ultimate! We drive towards the Greater Harmony! You’ll see!’ And laughing still she seized me again and turned me this way and that so it seemed I was tossed in the maelstrom of sensation and meaning. ‘The Elixir and the Grail,’ she crooned, taking her pleasure, drawing from me all I had to give her. ‘Oh, little one, you are privileged among men. Trust me, von Bek, and you shall have every desire, be anything you have ever, in your profoundest dreams, wanted to be.’
‘It is you I want, Libussa, no more or less.’
‘You shall never leave me. We shall be together for Eternity, you and I. I swear it. There’s no deception, but I must demand your trust – and your aid in defeating our enemies.’
‘I love you, Libussa.’
‘Of course. You must.’ She lapped at my body like a thirsty lioness. ‘The Elixir and the Grail, little one. And the two of us. The old ritual of death and rebirth. The end of all struggle, the end of hatred and disharmony. It will herald the destruction of Heaven and the abolition of Hell!’ She sucked in her breasts, she
flung back her head. I am the Beast she has conquered. I am the Beast she rides. And I hear the bellowing from the Labyrinth, smell the stink of the Minotaur. And Ariadne is laughing. She holds a sword and a shield. Ariadne is riding. She wars against all Mystery. She cries out in a voice that is neither human, demon, nor animal. The cry is sharp and then it fragments into sobs.
It was as if molten mercury dropped from her forehead to my face, streaming down her breasts, the strong sinews of her torso and groin, scattering across the flexing muscles of her thighs and calves. Her white teeth were clenched, her hair flying back from a face which, no longer controlled, no longer able to deceive, no longer set with a mask, was a burning, molten thing of bronze! A monument to the power of sexuality, to what our chemistry would achieve!
‘Von Bek!’ she shrieked, the teeth parting at last as all was shrugged away – all false pride, all resentment and all unnatural humility. Is that what lured Eve to Adam’s seduction? ‘Von Bek!’ And was the service of Heaven anything to rival it? God could not have known, when He created us, half-beast, half-angel, or He would not have imposed such meaningless conditions upon our entering His Kingdom. Yet neither was this Satan’s sphere. It was – whether accident or no – mankind’s own! And mankind was now bound to provide its own rules, its own principles, for its own Salvation!
The City in the Autumn Stars Page 24
