The Sixth Key(140)
The old madame said coolly, ‘Go back to Rome. Tell the pope and his mafia AGLA that they have been surpassed. Tell him the key to the gates of Hell has been snatched away from his gnarly grasp. Tell him that this night it has revealed the presence of the Prince of Evil, the origin of all darkness!’
Grassaud yelled at the top of his voice: ‘Atah Gibbor Le’olam Adonnai!’
‘Yes, yes, yes . . . thou art mighty forever, oh Lucifer! But you’re forgetting that Sorat is more mighty than Lucifer and AGLA means nothing here,’ she said, ‘so shut up, old man, and go back to your bed. Leave me to my work.’
‘Your ritual will not succeed, woman,’ he said with authority. ‘There is no priest to direct the power of the spirit into your soul. This man isn’t a priest – he’s a necromantic pretender, a pompous fool!’
The madame laughed. ‘What do I need a priest for when I am a priestess?’
‘When AA hears of this, you will have no tongue with which to swallow those words!’ Grassaud cried.
‘I have long since broken away with that association of fake angels. Their only desire is to lock Le Serpent Rouge away along with the key because they fear it. I do not fear it!’
The old man shouted, ‘In that case, I will conjure Sorat myself, in the name of Jesus Christ to thwart you!’
She was aghast. ‘What? No! You will not!’
‘I will bind him to keep him from your clutches!’
‘Get him out!’
But Grassaud had already begun. ‘I conjure thee, Evil and Accursed Serpent, to appear at my will and pleasure, in this place, before this circle, without tarrying—’
‘Stop him, you fool!’ the madame shrieked at Aleister Crowley, who hesitated.
‘Come without companions, without grievance, without noise, deformity, or murmuring. I exorcise thee by the ineffable names of God, which I am unworthy to pronounce: come hither, come hither, come hither! Accomplish my will and desire, without wiles or falsehood. Otherwise Saint Michael, the invisible Archangel shall presently blast thee to the utmost depths of Hell. Come then, do my will!’
‘Swine! Pig!’ Madame Dénarnaud flew into a rage, gesturing wildly. ‘Remove him!’
But all were afraid and hung back.
‘Why tarriest thou, and why delayest? What doest thou?’ Grassaud continued to spit out with vehemence. ‘Make ready, obey your master, in the name of the Lord, Bathat, Rachat, Abracm, Ens, Alchor, Aberer!’
There came now a scream from Madame Dénarnaud, loud enough to curdle the blood, and she put her hands over her ears. ‘No! No! No! I alone will now call forth the divine master of the Dark Sun, and to the Devil with you! I will call the demon of aeons past! Come to me!’ She closed her eyes and swayed from side to side and moaned and groaned and turned her face to the vaulted rock ceiling. ‘Come to me here – from the bowels of the Earth! I command thee, come to your saint, impregnate your prostitute! Ecce formacionem seculi spiritus autem spiritum vocat!’
‘Ecce formacionem seculi spiritus autem spiritum vocat!’ The crowd repeated.
‘Behold the Pentacle of Solomon!’ the old man countered, bringing forth a pentacle from around his neck, which he pointed at the madame. ‘I have brought it into thy presence! Oh despicable spirit! I command thee by order of the great God, Adonay, Tetragrammaton, and Jesus!’ he bellowed.
‘The bowl!’ she cried, signalling to Crowley. ‘I will make the sign!’
Crowley hurriedly brought the bloody bowl to her and old Grassaud rushed forward, grasping for it, and in the struggle the altar toppled, the bowl was catapulted to the ground and the books fell at the edge of the great fire. A scuffle broke out between the two old men; Crowley took hold of the old man’s ears while Grassaud scratched at his eyes.
‘I conjure thee by the . . . ineffable . . . ah you devil – let go of me! By the name of God . . .’ Grassaud said, between gasps, ‘Alpha, Omega . . . AGLA . . . AGLA!’
The gallery erupted. Dogs snarled and people gestured and cried out. Some were objecting to the treatment meted out to old Grassaud while others were defending the old woman. These disagreements now escalated into pandemonium, replete with insults and blows. To Rahn it resembled a bar brawl. Crowley struggled to bring his face close to Grassaud’s and then bit the old man on the nose, so that Grassaud yelled and dropped to the ground, moaning and whimpering and holding his nose with one hand while the other pointed at Crowley. ‘You will pay for this!’
Crowley pointed at the old man and Grassaud began to choke, or so it seemed, from whatever power Crowley had called forth to assail him.