We reach steep stairs and start down. The walls continue to press in on us. The stairs are seemingly endless. I carry a torch in one hand, grip the back of Marie's neck with the other. "If you cry out at any time," I say, "that cry will be the last sound you hear in this world."
"I won't betray you," she whispers.
"I can see you are very loyal."
We continue to go down for the next twenty minutes, and I begin to believeL andulf has fashioned his castle over a natural cave. It is ridiculous to think he could have carved away so much stone with human hands. Yet somebody must have built this passageway, and I have to wonder if it is older than I imagined. The surrounding stones appear ancient. I remember Dante's remark, that this spot used to shelter the Oracle of Venus.
Eventually I detect a red glow ahead. At the same time the temperature increases sharply. Putting out my torch, I stop Marie and question her.
"Lord Landulf performs sacrifices down there?" I ask.
"Yes."
"What kind?"
"All kinds."
I shake her. "Does he kill humans? Torture them?"
"Yes. Yes."
"Why?"
She weeps. "I don't know why."
"Then why do you stay here? Are you not a Christian?"
She trembles beneath my gaze. "If I do not serve, I will be sacrificed."
"Is that the law?"
"Yes. Please let me go."
"Not until I am finished with you. Is there a place from where we can watch these sacrifices? And not be detected?"
She glances in the direction of the red glow. It is as if the light of hell beckons us. I smell burnt flesh again, and it has the odor of fresh meat. Marie is having trouble breathing.
"There is a passageway off to the side and above," she whispers. "But it is not all stone."
"What do you mean?"
"It is a metal grill, set in the ceiling. If they look up, they will see us."
"Why should they look up?"
"The eyes of my lord are everywhere!"
"Shh. Don't call him your lord. He is a perverted human." Iturn toward the red glow. "He will die this very night." I grab her by the neck again. "Come, you will see."
The passageway Marie speaks of comes well before we reach the cavern. I feel and hear the hot tension in the cavern, the sound of many people whispering among themselves, the moans of a few unfortunates, the faint clash of metal. Even before I see, I know Landulf has brought his devotees as well as his soldiers to this accursed hole. I have to wonder if they're not all Satan worshippers.
Marie leads me into a tunnel where we have to get down on our hands and knees and crawl. The way is hot and soon I am drenched with sweat. But below our hands and knees the stone finally turns to wire mesh.We have reached the grills from which we can peer down at what is to be.
The ceremony is about to begin.
We are directly above the altar. It is circular, surrounded on all sides by rows of pews that lead up and back one hundred feet. There are approximately six hundred people present. Each person wears a red robe, except for a few soldiers at the doors, who have on metal breast plates and helmets. The altar is black and polished; it appears to be made of marble. Inlaid is a silver pentagram. The five tips of the stars dissect the room into five sections.L andulf sits on the floor with his wife. He is the only one wearing a black robe, and I can't help but notice the small silver knife resting in his lap.
Candles surround the altar. They are black and very tall, but what is most remarkable is that they burn with purple flames. The sober light spills over the marble and the silent participants like a glow from an unearthed volcano. The tension in the air is palpable and it is not something I would wish to touch. I sense that Landulf strives for tension in his rites.
Landulf stands and walks to the center of the pentagram.
He raises his hand with the knife.
The group begins to sing, and for a moment I am bewildered. For it sounds to me as if they are singing the Catholic Mass in Latin. But then I realize they have started at the end, and are working their way toward the beginning, moving verse by verse through the litany. And the knife Landulf holdsthe handle is shaped like a crucifix, yet he grasps it by the blade, upside down.
Everything they are doing is backward.
Landulfs grip is tight on his blade. Blood runs down his arm as his worshippers sing,but he doesn't seem to mind. In all of this, the most amazing thing is that theirvoices are quite beautiful. They remind me of Dante, who never went to sleep without reciting the Mass. Yet their motives are clearly the opposite of Dante's. He implored God for forgiveness for sins he had never committed. These creatures implore another power to accept their sins and reward them for them.