Many Dimensions, Charles Williams [black authors fiction TXT] 📗

>“I suppose so,” Chloe admitted. “I didn’t know what I ought to do.”

 

The Hajji nodded slowly, and looked at Lord Arglay. “It

should be clear to you what has come about,” he said. “A thing has

happened which has not been possible for a thousand years- “

 

“I can quite believe that,” Lord Arglay said. “A thousand years seem to

be considerably less than a day in this case. But I an not at all clear

what this thing is.”

 

“This Holy Thing has been kept in seclusion,” Ibrahim answered,

“through many centuries, and in all that time none of its keepers have

approached or touched it. And since Giles Tumulty stole it men have

grasped at it in their own wisdom. But this woman has put her will at

its disposal, and between it and her the union may be achieved by which

the other Hiddenness is made manifest.”

 

“What is the other Hiddenness?” Lord Arglay asked.

 

The Hajji hesitated, then he turned his eyes back to Chloe and seemed

to ask a question of her. What answer he saw on the forehead at which

he gazed she could not guess, but he spoke then in a low and careful

voice.

 

“In the Crown of Suleiman the Wise—the Peace be upon him!-” he said,

“there was a Stone, and this Stone was that which is the First Matter

of Creation, holy and terrible. But on the hand of the King there was a

Ring and in the Ring was another secret, more holy and terrible than

the Stone. For within the Ring there was a point of that Light which is

the SPirit of Creation, the Adornment of the Unity, the Knowledge

of the Loveliness, the Divine Image in the mirror of the worlds just

and true. This was the justice and the Wisdom of Suleiman, by which all

souls were made manifest to him and all causes rightly determined. Also

when within the Holy of Holies in the Temple that the King made he laid

his crown upon the Ark and between the wings of the Cherubim, and held

his hand over it, the Light of the Ring shone upon the Stone and all

things had peace. But when the King erred, building altars to strange

gods, he dared no longer let the Light fall upon the Stone; also he put

aside the Ring and it is told that Asmodeus sat upon his throne seven

years. But I think that perhaps the King himself had not all that time

parted from his throne, how closely soever Asmodeus dwelt within his

soul. And of the hiding place of the Ring I do not know, nor any of my

house; if it is on earth it is very secret. But the Light of it is in

the Stone and all the Types of the Stone—and the Power of it is in the

soul and body of any who have sought the union with the Stone, so that

whoever touches them in anger or hatred or evil desire is subjected to

the Light and Power of the Adornment of the Unity. And this I think my

nephew did, and this is the cause of his blasting and hurling out.”

 

He looked straight at Chloe. “But woe, woe, woe to you,” he said, “if

from this time forth for ever you forget that you gave your will to the

Will of That which is behind the Stone.”

 

Chloe started to her feet with a cry. “It isn’t true,” she broke out,

“it isn’t true! What have I done to bring all this on me? I can’t bear

it; it isn’t, it mustn’t be true.”

 

Lord Arglay’s voice answered her. “All is well,” he said, “all is well,

child. You shall do nothing that you cannot do and bear nothing that

you cannot bear. I will see to that.” He held out his hand towards her,

and, shaken and terrified, she caught it. “Sit down,” he went on,

smiling at her, “and we will know what all this is.”

 

“What are you,” the HaJi asked, more astonished than indignant, “to

promise to govern the Stone?”

 

“Why, in some sense,” Lord Arglay said, smiling again, “I am at the

moment, as you say, the Light that is in the Stone. Not that I ever

meant or wanted to be.”

 

“I do not understand you,” the Hajji exclaimed in bewilderment. “You

act as if you believed in the Stone, yet you talk like an infidel. Are

you for or against this Sanctity?”

 

“That it may decide for itself,” Lord Arglay said. “I am no light to my

own mind, I promise you. But if what you say is true, and the Stone is

a thing of goodness, and has saved this child last night, then we may

agree yet.”

 

The Hajji shook his head. “I do not understand,” he said almost

pitifully. “Why will you always mock?”

 

“I do not mock,” Arglay answered, “or if I do I would have you consider

whether this may not be part of your Mystery. But we will not now talk

of the place of mockery among the gifts of the King Suleiman, although

if he never smiled at himself the Court of the King must have been a

very sombre place. I have known other Courts which were so, but they

were, often, without any kind of light. Let us talk quietly of this. “

 

He drew from his pocket a small jewel case and laid it on the table,

then he released his hand from Chloe’s and touched her shoulder as she

sat. “Is everything well?” he said.

 

She looked at him, in a returning serenity. “Everything,” she said, “I

was afraid.”

 

“Do not be afraid,” he said. “Consider that we, if anything at all can

be,. are in the knowledge of the illuminated Stone. “

 

He opened the case, and his Type lay before them, but in it there was a

change. The Stone was glowing with a stronger colour than before; its

size was no greater but its depth seemed, as in some great jewel, to be

infinitely increased, and in that depth the markings which had seemed

like letters arose in a new and richer darkness. It expanded within;

and the eyes of those who gazed were drawn down the shapes of the

Tetragrammaton into its midst where the intervolutions of creams and

gold mingled themselves in what was more like cloud than Stone. The

Hajji looked and covered his eyes with his hand, pronouncing in a low

voice the formula of the Unity. Lord Arglay looked and there came-upon

his face a half-smile of such affectionate irony as that with which he

had glanced at Chloe—“this thing,” he seemed to say, “cannot be and yet

it is.” Chloe looked, and unconsciously put out her hand towards the

Stone, not as if to take hold, but naturally as if it were on the point

of clasping that of some sufficient lover. it moved forward and then

sank and rested on the table close to the Stone, and Lord Arglay,

including it also in his gaze, wondered suddenly at the kinship between

the two. For the hand and the Stone were to his eyes both softly

translucent; though the shapes were different, the matter of both was

the same, and if the one was to be raised the other was capable of

raising it. He permitted for a moment the fancy that that hand was but

pausing before it lifted up, not the Stone, but the whole round world,

playing with it as a ball upon its palm. He remembered the Hand thrust

out from a cloud in many an early painting to image the Power behind

creation, and the hand that lay open before him seemed meant to receive

that creation as it came into being. He saw—even while, rightly wise in

his own proper generation among these things, he refused to believe too

easily—that the Stone no longer rested on the table but that it threw

out of itself colour shaped into the table: the walls and furniture

were in themselves reflections of that Centre in which they secretly

existed; they were separations, forms, and clouded visibilities of its

elements, and he also and other mortals who moved among them. The Stone

quivered with its own intense and hidden life, and through the unknown

hand that appeared close beside it there passed an answering quiver.

Arglay saw it and held his breath for what might ensue. But nothing

more ensued, or nothing that could be apprehended by his critical mind.

The hand which had been for a moment a mystery of the same nature as

the Stone

resolved itself again into the hand of Chloe Burnett. The Stone, parted

to his vision again from the world, lay on the table where he had set

it. He looked up suddenly and as Chloe also moved their eyes met.

 

“And still,” he said, “even so, you did muddle up those quotations.”

 

She smiled across at him. “Am I not forgiven?” she asked.

 

“No,” Lord Arglay said thoughtfully, “no, I do not think you are

forgiven.” He considered the Stone again. “Lay your Type here,” he went

on, and let us see if they agree.”

 

She went across the room to her typewriting table, picked up and opened

her bag, looked into it, felt in it, looked again, and turned to him

with an exclamation. “It isn’t here,” she cried.

 

The Hajji looked round with a start of attention; Lord Arglay went

swiftly over to her. “Was it there?” he asked.

 

“Certainly it was,” Chloe cried. “I looked at it this morning just

before Frank came in.”

 

Arglay turned back towards the table where the Type lay. “Can the two

already have become one?” he said. “Are all the Types of the Stone

restored?”

 

Ibrahim joined them, asking, “What is the matter?”

 

“I had a Stone here,” Chloe said, agitation growing in her-“not an hour

ago it was here, and now it is gone.”

 

The Hajji gazed, and shook his head. “I do not think they are yet all

one,” he said, “for no soul has yet made itself a way for the Stone to

be what it will in itself. I think it is more likely that you have been

robbed of -it.”

 

Lord Arglay frowned, but before he could speak Chloe broke out in an

exclamation of horror. “O no,” she cried, “no,” and looked at him with

troubled eyes.

 

“Who has been here since you saw it?” the Hajji asked, and the girl,

still staring at Arglay, answered, “It couldn’t be,” ut more in fear

than doubt.

 

“Why, all of us are capable of all misfortunes at all times,”

the Chief Justice answered. “Are you very certain that it was

here?”

 

“I am quite certain,” Chloe answered, “for I… I adored it while you

were telephoning.”

 

“And are you certain,” Arglay said to Ibrahim, “that the Types of the

Stone are not yet made one?”

 

“I am not certain,” he answered, “who can be certain of the movement of

justice? But I think that a further devotion is needed.”

 

Lord Arglay turned back to Chloe, “Well,” he said, “there is no need

for us to decide, for there is nothing that we could do. If it has been

taken, let us desire that goodwill may go with it, and that I will very

gladly do.”

 

“But I must go after him,” Chloe said, “I must make him give it back.

It is my fault—perhaps I ought to have given it to him. Only… O what

have I done?”

 

“Nothing but what was wise,” Arglay said. “Let us forget it. You and I

are here,