Himmler was so pleased his eyes twinkled behind his pincenez. ‘You see, gentlemen! The Roman church and the Jews have deceived us! Jesus was an Aryan! Even so, he was only one symbol of sacrifice. Germany has its own Aryan symbol, our Führer! He says that this, above all, is Germany’s destiny – to live in the fire of sacrifice, like the salamander.’
‘What is it that I say, Heinrich?’ The voice echoed strangely in the high-vaulted room. Suddenly all men stood and Rahn followed by reflex; his stomach lurched and he forgot to breathe. The air in the room grew still and the torches flickered and seemed to wane as the man in the grey suit crossed the threshold.
The glow of the great torch in the arch under which he stood marked out the bones of his face and threw shadows under his eyes, eyes that were as wild as a winter sky at midday, wild as those of a wolf caught tearing at its prey. He came to the table, straight backed with the self-absorbed mien of a mythological god, and a dumb, astounded silence grew around him until it was thick and awkward. Rahn, with his sense for unspoken things, knew that the newcomer was proving to them that they could exist simply by basking in his presence. He did not need to speak: his very greatness alone should hold them.
Satisfied that his presence had achieved the desired effect, Adolf Hitler scanned the group before him, and in his eyes there glittered the promise of unfathomable mysteries, both miraculous and magic. The Führer drew a smirk upwards over the scored bones of his face, stretching at his short moustache, but it was an action neither touched with irritation nor amusement. It was the expression of an automatic intelligence that was fast, cold, merciless. It swept over his men, as if to say, I am neither your friend nor your foe and by you I am completely unaffected. But by me you are fully enthralled.
Rahn felt a sudden surging of his blood, a feeling confusingly and quite disturbingly sexual in nature. A primal magnetic love of kin for kin, of the deepest blood ties. A part of him was disgusted by it, but another part was exhilarated.
‘Well?’ Hitler said, turning his eyes to the Reichsführer.
Himmler cleared his throat, the loyal dog cowering before a superior wolf. ‘Mein Führer!’ he said with passion. ‘We were just saying that it is your desire that all Germans come to know the true meaning of sacrifice!’ Himmler adjusted his glasses, as nervous as a schoolboy.
‘IT IS NOT MY DESIRE!’ These words exploded from Hitler and sent a shockwave around the table. His face moved over every man with fury in his eye and hatred about the lips. ‘IT IS WHAT THE SPIRIT OF GERMANY DEMANDS!’ he cried, taking in a strangled breath as he thrust one fist into the air. ‘THE SPIRIT THAT SEEKS TO MAKE GERMANY GREAT!’
The candles glowed, the torches flapped, a draught blew in and circled the group. Adolf Hitler stood perfectly still, reining himself in. He looked about him at the arid landscape of blank faces with his hands behind his back now, his eyes probing and his lips working inaudible whispers.
His eyes fell on Rahn.
Rahn’s blood paled and his bones felt like lead under his skin.
A deep fatigue seized him, as if the light had gone out of the world and his heart was touched by a shadow.
‘So, the Grail historian is here. Otto Rahn!’ Hitler said, serenely now, stretching his neck as if to adjust the tightness of his collar. ‘I have read your books. Sacrifice is written in blood in all history books, do you not agree?’
‘Yes, mein Führer!’ came Rahn’s immediate reply, which was followed by a sudden terrifying thought that sent him into a palsy of uncertainty: Was this the reply the Führer wanted?
‘Look at this castle, for instance.’ Hitler swept the room with a hand, his back stiff, his chin raised and his jaw jutting out. ‘It has an interesting history. Witches were tortured and put to death here, and the shedding of blood has made this place more powerful. In fact, all the ancient people understood the value of human sacrifice – the Mexicans, the Druids, even our own ancestors. Is this not true?’ he asked Rahn again.
Oh! Rahn could find no breath in his lungs! He glanced about. ‘Yes, mein Führer,’ he managed to say.
Hitler gave a nod of his head and made a gesture with his hand and there was the collective scraping of chairs as they were drawn into the table and the circle of men sat down.
Rahn breathed a sigh of relief, but his hands were shaking so he held them in his lap beneath the table to keep them still, lest the wolf smell his fear and discern from it his unfaithfulness.
‘Heinrich was right,’ the Führer now confirmed, coming to his own chair. ‘It is the destiny of the German people to become the consciousness of Europe. Such a responsibility comes only by way of great sacrifices, and more sacrifices will come before the world will see that it must, either willingly or by force, unite under the rulership of the German Reich and its supreme leader . . . in the same way the limbs, if they are to function properly, must come under the governorship of the mind’s supreme consciousness! But consciousness, gentlemen, comes at a price!’ He turned in Rahn’s direction, and the historian felt as though he had plunged his head into a torrent of water chilled by melting snow. ‘We are at the outset of a tremendous revolution in moral ideas and man’s spiritual orientation; a new age of the magic interpretation of the world is coming, an interpretation in terms of will instead of intellect. The Freemasons once knew this secret, as did the alchemists and the magicians of old, like Solomon, Basil Valentinus and Faust: control over evil, harnessing evil – this is true power, gentlemen! The man who sacrifices evil is nothing to me, but a man who can sacrifice his goodness – such a man can become the instrument of the one destined to fulfil the plan of the gods. You are such men . . . and I am the destined one!’ He scanned the circle of faces. ‘I am the ideal of the Grail, gentlemen! And you are the true ideal of the knights of the Grail – the Brotherhood of the Grail. You are the limbs through which I will one day work my magic, as Christ performed his magic through his disciples. And I demand of you the sacrifice even of your goodness!’