Baptism in Blood(53)
“She says that she and two other women decided to have a celebration of the goddess in a grove at the back of the camp’s formal gardens just before the storm really started—”
“The goddess?”
Clayton Hall sighed: “Yeah, the goddess. The Great Goddess, to be specific. It’s the big thing these days with the academic types up in the Research Triangle. Theoretically, millions and millions of years ago, or however long it was, when the human race just got started, everybody worshipped the Great Goddess, instead of a male god, and that meant there was equality between the sexes and everything was better for everybody and women were affirmed and I don’t know what all. But I ask you this. If it was all so wonderful, why did anybody ever want to change it?”
“The preachers all think the Great Goddess is Satan,” Jackson put in. “Or at least, some of the preachers do. They’re always talking about it.”
“Let’s get back to Carol Littleton,” Gregor said gently. “You said she and these two other women decided to go out and worship the Great Goddess. Did they?”
“Yes,” Clayton said.
“Have you talked to the other two women?”
“Of course I have. They say the same thing.”
“How was this worship carried out?”
Jackson whooped. “Well,” he said, in a strongly exaggerated drawl, “for one thing, that business about being stark naked was absolutely right. They did get stark naked.”
Clayton Hall was actually blushing. “To tell you the truth, Mr. Demarkian, this embarrasses the hell out of me. It would embarrass the hell out of anybody. They all got naked, you see, and then they knelt in a circle around a pile of rocks, and then they sang this song they say they always sing. It’s a special song. One of them wrote it, not Carol Littleton. I don’t remember which one it was.”
“It’s a song to their twats,” Jackson said, absolutely deadpan. “That’s what they do out there. They get all naked and kneel in a circle and sing to their—”
“Jackson, stop it, for Pete’s sake. Now you’ve got Mr. Demarkian blushing.”
“Call me Gregor,” Gregor said, trying to will the blush away. It was impossible. He could feel the heat in his face. It was strong enough to scorch.
“It’s called ‘affirming the goodness of the body,’” Jackson said. “Did you ever hear of such a thing? And those asses from New York think the Holy Rollers are crazy.”
Gregor took a deep breath. “Look,” he said. “Don’t you realize? This means that Ginny Marsh was telling the truth about something.”
“Maybe it just means she got lucky,” Clayton Hall said. “There’s been rumors about the goddess worship for months. Henry Holborn has been going on and on about it for months. And Ginny is a member of Henry Holborn’s church.”
“They were talking about Henry Holborn in Betsey’s this morning,” Gregor said.
“Henry’s got the biggest church anywhere around here,” Jackson said. “Big complex out on Hartford Road. Huge congregation. He must fill three thousand seats every Sunday.”
“Three thousand?”
“That’s not much,” Clayton Hall said. “Some of the really big evangelists, Oral Roberts, Robert Schuller, they’ll do ten thousand without sweating. But Henry’s big for around here. And getting bigger.”
“And he thinks they’re worshipping the devil up at this camp,” Gregor said.
“That’s right,” Clayton Hall said.
The tiny window placed high in the wall looked out on a window well full of dying leaves and pine needles. Other than that, all Gregor could see was the sun, and the grating that protected the well from the lawn. There was a small bird on the grating, pecking away at the air.
“I think,” Gregor said finally, “that what I would like to do, if you could arrange it, is to go out to this camp and look around. Would that be possible?”
“More than possible,” Clayton Hall said. “Zhondra Meyer will probably be happy enough to marry you. She’s a very rich society lady from New York, and she isn’t used to this kind of publicity.”
“Serves her right,” Jackson said.
“What about Ginny Marsh?” Gregor asked. “Where is she? Out on bail?”
Clayton looked uncomfortable. “She’s in a jail cell about three yards from here. I know that that’s crazy, under the circumstances, but there isn’t anybody to go her bail. Bobby won’t do it.”
“Her husband.”
“That’s right,” Clayton said. “He doesn’t have the money. And he isn’t so inclined, either.”