The Hermeporta Beyond the Gates of Hermes

by Hogarth Brown

  ‘As the great Athena knows: no finer mesh is woven than those of spiders. Find some of Arachne’s daughters that weave golden webs; only they are swift and skilled enough for such work - Lucia will know where such spiders can be found.’

  The Professor turned to look at Lucia, who gave a faint nod to acknowledge the Goddess before she continued, ‘put this spider into the Soul-lantern and utter the correct rites above her, and she shall spin to capture the form of the soul upon her gilded web. You will then have three days to find a willing host for the soul, a living male or female, an animal, or those at the end of their time who wish their bodies to live on.’ The Goddess raised her taloned hand into the air in a gesture of warning, ‘if you do not find a host, then the soul and its knowledge will be consumed by the spider and lost forever, but SHE will grow wiser, and more powerful: it's Arachne’s revenge - remember this.’ The Goddess looked at the Professor: ‘have you understood?’

  ‘Yes mighty Goddess, I understand’ the Professor said before he looked over to his physical body and saw that it had completed the drawing. Hekate lowered her hand and studied the Professor.

  'You have more to ask of me’ Hekate said, ‘but for your earlier boldness, I will grant you another question.'

  ‘Thank you, Divine Goddess' said the Professor, 'please, can you guide me to where another Hermeporta is located in Italy?’ Lucia’s face took on a look of great curiosity, and the Goddess seemed humoured before she replied.

  ‘There were many more of them, once, in the times when men and women knew my name, and made me generous offerings, listened to me, and sought my council' the Goddess sighed. Hekate then knelt next to the puppy and patted its stomach with care and tenderness as it continued to suckle from its new mother before she stood up. 'I can answer your question with ease, Winston, for it was the God Hermes and I that created the first Hermeporta.' Lucia gasped at the revelation, 'and we shared its creation with the enlightened parents of your Illawara - no two mortals were ever more worthy of Godhood than they.'

  The Professor’s mouth dropped open as he tried to comprehend what the Goddess had told him, but she waved her taloned hand to silence his inquiry before she continued. ‘That which you seek is one of few that remain after the great destruction of our temples when most of civilised Man abandoned its belief in us to the thoughts of one God alone.’ The Professor raised his hand like a school child wishing to ask a question of a teacher, but Hekate would not indulge him. ‘We Gods, all of us’ she said, ‘are manifestations of one all mighty power; The Source, each a facet of creation or destruction that maintains the divine balance. We are one and yet we are many.'

  Hekate swept her hand over her robes to lighten their dark grey colour to a purple that matched the glowing hearth flames. Lucia looked on with envy. 'Winston, you have earned the right to learn this truth that I have just shared with you, for not even she knew that’ said Hekate, flicking a claw in Lucia’s direction. ‘Visit my graveyard in the northern lagoon, to the south of the city that floats, where men are free to think and trade, and you will find one of my vessels there. Perform the due rites to empower it, pay the asking price as you have done before, and know you should, and you shall travel with my blessing - for you have won my favour, as few mortals have ever done. Listen for me and I will guide you' said the Goddess.

  The Professor sensed Hekate make ready to leave, but one more question flashed in his mind, and the Goddess paused to address him: ‘your spirit is strong, mortal man.' Hekate smiled, which scattered her high cheek bones with light, 'I will indulge you again, you may ask one more question’ she said as she searched his very soul.

  ‘Where is Illawara?’ he asked, as the Goddess stood resplendent, shining in purple garb, toying with her lion's hair. Hekate then looked deep into the Professor before she answered. ‘Illawara resides north and not far from the lagoon - she is unaware of her connection to the Hermeportas, the few that are left, and yet is drawn to them… in time she will understand. They cannot harm her. She’s in the place where men come to learn, in temples of their own knowledge, and under the protection of the state that honours the minds of men. You are not to tell her about her heritage - like all mortals she must earn her knowledge as you have done - but find her before she is discovered.' Hekate then pointed at Lucia, 'for she sent the hounds to chase the vixen – and the vixen must be cunning if she’s to stay alive’ The Professor looked at Lucia, but she could not meet his eye. ‘But Illawara is Fated to learn of her lineage’ the Goddess continued, ‘and will, in time, find herself - her parents wait for her.’ The Professor blinked at what he heard.

  The Goddess made to move after her statement, explaining no further, but the Professor understood what she said, and where to find another Hermeporta and Illawara. ‘Venice and Padua’ he whispered to himself before he bowed his head low in front of Hekate, she acknowledged him with a nod and gestured, before he returned to the circle with a crackle. He passed close to Lucia, struck dumb by what she had learnt and seen. The Professor then stood next to his body as the Goddess took up her torches, her Golden snakes hissing and coiling about her waist, and mounted her lion which then gave out a warm roar.

  ‘Come along my little, Winston’ Hekate called down to the suckling pup, 'you will ride with me.' With some effort, the nursing bitch stood, and the puppy ran gallant circles around her, its tail wagging before the lion crouched its hind legs and the puppy clambered up its haunches to then scramble up the legs of the Goddess. Hekate laughed as she looked down at the animal that tumbled into her lap. Hekate's lion stood, and the yapping of the hounds clamoured as the flames rose again. The pack moved ahead, as the suckling female hung back, to be near the puppy, and the howls began to ebb away before the mighty lion roared. The beast turned and then walked forward with the shimmering Goddess and little Winston on its back, the new mother following, and into the purple flames of the closing fireplace.

  Chapter 18

  Love's Revenge

  The Convent of San Matteo, evening, Sunday October 16th 1611

  C eleste, Arcangela, and the Golem watched the Professor and Lucia within their circle of protection: Lucia lay rocking from side to side, eyes rolled back, and the Professor, silver-haired, squirmed on the floor. The bright light of the circle, and its powerful symbols, faded back to chalk lines and the candles reignited to give some light back to the smoke-filled room: ‘the time is now’ said Celeste, her voice shaking as the smoke cleared, ‘the time to speak, we’ve all had enough. We won't let her dominate us anymore.’ The Golem nodded, but Arcangela spoke up; her face riven with concern,

  ‘Celeste, what will come of this? What do you want her to say? She’ll never give you what you want.' Celeste stepped towards Lucia, but Arcangela blocked her path. 'Is life here so bad?' she whispered, 'it could be worse: here we have a lot of freedom, even if we’re not completely free.’ Celeste looked down at the little witch, her eyes like slits.

  ‘How often have you said that you wanted to break away, and escape this place? For years I’ve heard no end to your complaining, saying that you feel stifled and controlled: that Lucia is too violent.' Celeste then pointed at Arcangela as she spoke, 'you leave, but then you come back, time after time, even after you’ve raided the alms box, and drank or gambled away every scudo of the nun's money.' Celeste crossed her arms, 'there's not a tavern within a mile's walk that doesn't know your name - but you always come back for more but then complain.’ Arcangela’s face then scrunched like wrapping paper,

  ‘You’re a fine one to talk’ she hooted, putting both hands on her hips, ‘look at you, loitering here for years waiting to be touched. At least I’ve lived.’ The little witch then gestured to Lucia who began to stumble out of the circle, ‘why should a bright creature like her care for a dull maid like you?’ Celeste seemed to chew at Arcangela’s words, as her face filled with emotion again,

  ‘Why must you be so spiteful Arcangela? This is our chance to demand to be free, to be treated with respect, an
d yet all you do is taunt me. I can’t help my feelings: she’s cruel but magnificent - she's like… a Goddess.' The Golem’s mouth turned down and she shook her head at Celeste's words as the distracted pair argued. 'You've had many loves in your lifetime' Celeste continued, 'can you blame me for wanting to know her… as her lovers do?' But Arcangela rolled her eyes as Lucia staggered to one side and the Professor, with time, started to regain his awareness.

  ‘What a goose you are’ scoffed the little witch, ‘if it’s a lover you need there’s no short supply here: but you’re as blind as a cabbage and as deaf as a post' said Arcangela with a waft of her hand. 'The nuns may pray, but few are saints.'

  'Fetch me water' said Lucia, exhausted, before she stumbled into a wall. Arcangela moved towards Lucia, but Celeste blocked her path again - her face glowing red.

  ‘So why complain then of domination and abuse if life here is so free?' She said, 'as if here were one your taverns where you sold yourself like flatbreads?' The little witch then gulped a breath before her lips narrowed into a multitude of furrowed lines, looking for a moment like the shrivelled udder of a dead cow. The Professor rolled sideways on the floor and attempted to stand up. The Golem flicked its eyes to him before glancing back at the bickering pair.

  ‘There’s no sadder sound in the world than the frustrated cries of an angry, wan, and bitter virgin.’ Arcangela spat out as she faced Celeste with her fist in the air. ‘I’m here because I grew tired, I’m here because I couldn’t do it anymore, I'm here because I'm old. Yes, she's dominating and sometimes violent, but she's also brave, brilliant and wise – even now you still admire her. I've too many regrets, but what would you know of those?' said Arcangela flicking her finger at Celeste, 'but I forget them all, along with my age, in the youth she grants me for the Sabbat.' Arcangela spread her arms wide, 'when I'm there with her; I can have almost any man I want: and live out my dreams and fantasies. She gives me that’ Arcangela raised her finger, ‘but if she didn't, I'd leave her.'

  Celeste listened to Arcangela’s confession stony-faced, while Lucia slid down the wall and groaned, and the Professor squatted on the floor: both people trying to emerge from their stupor. The Golem kept a keen eye on the pair, like a guard dog. A sinew twisted in Celeste’s jaw as she looked at the little witch with disdain, folding her arms, ‘that’s all you can think of, isn’t it? Your lovers at the Sabbat, or your oafs in the taverns: the countless grubby men that stained, used, and ruined you. Every day you dream how you will triumph over all of them with borrowed youth. Wishing that they'd come back to you as if you were some marquise, some high-born woman to be adored and treasured: it's YOU that is sad.'

  Arcangela clenched her fists and knifed Celeste with her eyes, her face shrinking as if the air had escaped from a balloon. Within the chalk circle the Professor struggled to his feet and rubbed at his platinum hair, and Lucia wobbled to the broad wooden table that still bore the items used for the ceremony. The Golem flashed a look in the direction of the two arguing witches, before focusing again on Lucia. The Golem flexed her arms and massaged her hands as if to ready them for battle. Arcangela stared up into Celeste's face, gesticulating, not done with the fight.

  ‘And what would you know of such things?’ spat the little witch, making a rude gesture in Celeste’s face, ‘what would a dull frump like you know of passion, and tasting life: both good and bad?’ Arcangela said, looking her up and down, ‘a woman too plain to make a dowry, dumped here by her family: even at your best a farm-hand wouldn’t lift your skirts in a haystack.’

  'Ha!' Exclaimed Celeste at the saucy put-down, before she turned to Arcangela with a look of triumph. She then made a gesture towards the Golem who then stood over Arcangela like a totem. ‘Yes, I confess it. I’m all those things you say' said Celeste, 'it's true I’m plain, and by almost all I’m unwanted. Lucia doesn’t love me, and I see now that’s also true.’ But then Celeste turned to fondle the Golem’s arm. ‘But SHE cares about me' the Golem nodded, 'she cares a great deal’ added Celeste with passion, her chest heaving with excitement, ‘but I do know something of love, and that’s what STELLA has begun to teach me: what we’ve learnt and discovered together.’ But Arcangela ran her dry hands across her face, and shook her head at Celeste’s words, before letting out a slow wheeze,

  ‘You've gone too far, Celeste. Why have you named her - you desperate fool?' But before she could continue Lucia called out again,

  ‘Please fetch me water; my mouth is so dry’ she said. Arcangela made a move forward to get a pitcher from the side room, but Stella snatched her arm with vice-like strength. The little witch tried to free herself from Stella’s painful grasp, but the Golem glared at her with ruthless eyes until she stopped her struggle. Stella shook her head and then waved her finger with slow menace, before pressing it to her lips. Celeste smirked. Arcangela got the message, and Lucia’s requests remained ignored as she and the Professor regained full consciousness.

  ‘Where are you all?’ gasped Lucia as she clung to the table, ‘I said I need water.'

  ‘You will get your water when we see fit’ said the Golem with a voice like Lucia’s but hard and cold. Lucia froze,

  ‘Who said that?’ she said, and turned herself around in a slow progression,

  ‘Stella did, Lucia’ said Celeste with a creeping smile. Lucia tried to focus her eyes in the direction of the voices, her hearing off and her eyesight still blurred from the intoxicating effects of the kykeon.

  ‘Do you mean the Golem? You’ve given it a name?’ came Lucia’s incredulous response,

  ‘I’m not an IT anymore; I’m a woman. I have a life, and I will live it’ said Stella,

  ‘I must be dreaming?’ said Lucia swooning, still getting her bearings, before Stella made rapid strides across the room and struck Lucia across the face as hard as she could. Arcangela covered her mouth. The sound of the clap rang around the space, and Lucia stood stunned into silence, unable to move, as the imprint of a red hand-shaped mark spread on one side of her face.

  ‘Still dreaming now?’ said Stella, deadpan, raising her hand again before she struck Lucia so hard that she fell to the floor. Lucia’s face stung with dazzled lights behind her eyes.

  The Golem stood over Lucia, laughing, while the lethargic Professor, gathering his wits, groped the floor for his paper, folding up his Illustration before he struggled to his bed to get out of the way. Stella made another move to strike before Lucia, from the floor, kicked Stella in her stomach to wind her. The Golem wheezed like a bagpipe as Celeste gasped at the blow. Lucia scrambled to her feet and then crashed a back-handed swipe across Stella’s face with all her might. Lucia’s fist connected with Stella’s cheek bone sending her crashing to one side. Celeste screamed when she saw her lover struck,

  ‘You ungrateful bitch’ Lucia screeched, still unsteady, as Stella sprawled to the ground. Lucia made a lunge for the Golem, yanking off her wimple, and attempted to rub off the Hebrew seal of life upon her forehead. But Stella then elbowed Lucia in her left breast, with vicious speed. Lucia howled with pain, falling back, and clutched at her wounded bosom before the Golem stood to grab handfuls of Lucia’s flaxen hair, and began to drag her around the floor. Arcangela looked on with her liver-spotted hands clamped to the side of her head as the struggle continued. Lucia fought to free herself from Stella’s grasp, before she used the Golem’s grip on her locks, like a tug rope, to drag Stella closer and then throw the Golem over her shoulder. But Stella held on as she flew through the air, and Lucia cried out when a clump of her long hair got torn out from the roots.

  The Professor, groggy from the effects of the drugged liquid, and with Hekate's words still throbbing in his mind, tried to comprehend the mighty struggle between the two women that looked like twin sisters. Lucia leapt onto Stella where she fell, with part of her scalp denuded, and began to rain blows on the Golem with her fists, but Stella in her short life had gained a strong will to live, and an instinct to fight, then used both her legs to kick Lucia off
to one side. Lucia barrelled across the floor to the far wall, crashing under the tapestry, from the sheer force the Golem could muster. The Golem then leapt up and ran forward to stamp on Lucia with all her might. Lucia took a blow to the face and shoulder from the Golem’s frenzied kicks that blackened her eye and split her lip.

  Arcangela bit her knuckles, transfixed, as the struggle continued as the Golem stamped on Lucia as if trying to kill a bug. A desperate Lucia, trying to dodge the blows, flaying at her sides, managed to snatch up a large figurine of the Buddha and hurled it at Stella’s face. With a dull crack, she caught the Golem on the brow above her eye. The Golem saw a bright flash of light upon the impact, and Celeste, screaming, ran into the side room, as the Golem staggered about: ‘you pathetic wretch!’ Lucia roared as she dragged herself up from the floor: scratched, bruised, and bloody.

  Lucia focused her mind and raised her hand high before she slammed Stella’s throat into The Grip. The Golem began to choke, Lucia pulling her up, as her feet rose above the floor. Stella clutched at her constricted throat and tried to prize off the invisible grasp, but to no avail. Lucia lifted the copy of herself as she had done with the Professor, but with no intention of leaving Stella alive. ‘How dare you’ Lucia blazed, her neck streaked with blood, as she lifted the Golem closer to the ceiling. Stella fought hard but could not free herself as her legs cycled in the air, ‘how could you? How could you turn on the one that created you?' I’M the one who gave you life from the dull clay you're made of: and that’s what you’ll become again. If I made you, I can destroy you’ she seethed, as she made ready to break Stella’s body onto the stone floor. The Professor and Arcangela looked upwards, petrified, as the Golem continued to rise into the air while a dishevelled Lucia fixed her copy with a stare of pure hatred.