Absolute Truths (85 page)

Finally he turned to face east; he turned to face the bishop’s throne; he turned to face me, and all at once I jumped up as if
jerked to my feet. ‘Stop!’ I shouted. ‘I command you to stop! Stop
at once!’ My legs were unsteady.

Hall ran towards me and almost before I realised what was happening he was shoving the crucifix into my hand. Speaking
with such authority that it never occurred to me not to believe
him he said: ‘It’s okay, there’s nothing here which can’t be put right.’

I sank down on my seat again. ‘Just tell me what on earth’s going on.’

‘
Well, for a start I think the ghost was benign. He certainly gave
you a tremendous shock, but he didn’t try and harm you, did he?
He was watching you, you said. That implies interest, maybe even
sympathy, but not hostility; if hostility had been present I’m sure
there would have been a clear manifestation of it, probably in the
form of an aggressive gesture.’

‘
So what you’re saying is —’

‘
I’m saying we have here a presence which is disturbed in the
sense of being worried and concerned but not disturbed in the sense of being violent and dangerous. I was just wondering .. . could he have been identifying with you in some special way as you knelt before your episcopal throne?’

I stared at him. ‘You sound as if you know who he is, but that’s
impossible, I’ve told you nothing, given you no clue.’

‘
Well, I could be wrong,’ said Hall, ‘but I believe you saw a man
of medium height, slim build, between fifty and sixty years of
age, straight grey hair, unusual eyes, a wide mouth, not classically
handsome but definitely striking in appearance, probably a dynamic personality and a great success in his profession.’

By this time I was dumbfounded.

‘
I remember him well,’ said Hall. ‘His photograph was regularly
in the papers before the war. My mentor Father Darcy used to say
that a priest who courted publicity so relentlessly was bound to
come to a sticky end, but as a teenager I was fascinated by that
glamorous image and racy reputation.’ He glanced down the nave.
‘Second pillar from the end on the left, wasn’t it?’ he added casually.
‘He was wearing the traditional frock-coat and gaiters but with
no hat to shadow his face, and he was — of course — none other
than that legendary bishop of Starbridge, Dr Adam Alexander Jardine.’

We must have been a curious sight: I, the Bishop, rigid with shock
on my episcopal throne, and Hall, the exorcist, motionless before
me, while around us billowed that haunted Cathedral, writhing
beneath the spears of artificial light yet still maintaining its shadowy
ambiguity. A long silence passed before I was able to say: ‘Yes, it
was Jardine. And if we were living in another century I’d send you
to the stake for witchcraft.’

To my astonishment he laughed. ‘My dear Bishop,’ he exclaimed,
‘of course there’s a rational explanation! But I suggest that before
I give it we adjourn to the choirstalls so that we can sit down
together and relax.’

I hardly thought that relaxation was a plausible possibility in
the circumstances, but I made no attempt to argue with him.
Handing him back his crucifix I left my throne with relief and followed him to the bench illuminated by candles on the north
side of the choir.

‘
Before we go any further,’ said Hall, ‘let’s clear up the question
of language or else we’ll almost certainly get in a muddle once we
start to work out what happened. The problem is that there are two languages which we have to take into account. There’s the
classical paranormal language in which the word "ghost" is used,
and there’s the modern psychological language which talks of a
projection from the unconscious mind. But no matter which string
of verbal symbols we use, the phenomenon you encountered
remains the same: you experienced, very keenly, the presence of a
dead man. This was a real experience; there’s no doubt that it
happened to you. Whether you call it the appearance of a ghost
(something external which isn’t normally accessible to your senses)
or whether you call it a projected image from your unconscious
mind (something internal which also isn’t normally accessible to
your senses) isn’t fundamentally important at all.’

Realising that I was expected to comment I said dryly: ‘Thank you for handling the over-educated theologian with kid gloves.’

‘
Let me now peel off the gloves by suggesting that if you can
bear to think of the paranormal language as a kind of old-fashioned
shorthand which at least has the advantage of brevity, perhaps we
can both use the word "ghost" without cringing.’

‘Very well, may I now ask you — without cringing — how you could possibly have deciphered the ghost’s identity?’

‘There were three big clues. The first was the fact that when the paranormal experience began in earnest with
^..
the sharp drop in
temperature, you were kneeling in front of the bishop’s throne.
This was an extraordinary thing to happen because a hallowed
place like that wouldn’t normally be the scene of an unpleasant
experience, and I at once wondered if the disturbance, whatever it was, was somehow rooted in the bishopric. I thought it might have arisen either from your own past experience as a bishop or
from the experience of a previous bishop — or both.

‘
The second clue lay in the fact that you recognised the ghost
instantly even though he was some yards away, the light was poor
and your distance-vision, as you’ve just admitted, isn’t as good as
it used to be. How could you be so sure of his identity in those
circumstances? The obvious answer was that if he’d been wearing
the traditional episcopal uniform — minus the hat, which would have shadowed his features — just a blurred glimpse of his face
would have confirmed his identity as a bishop of Starbridge who’d
been well known to you.

‘
The third clue was that you told me he had died in 1945, and
I remembered that I’d read the news of Bishop Jardine’s death
when I was looking forward to being demobbed. I then asked
myself if there was any connection between you and Jardine — and
there was, wasn’t there? Desmond was gossiping to me only the
other day about how your wife had once been Mrs Jardine’s companion, and when I recalled what he’d said I was able to theorise
that your wife’s death might have triggered some difficult mem
ories about her life at the old episcopal palace before the war.’

He paused as if hoping for an informative comment, but I merely
asked: ‘End my suspense and tell me how you knew exactly where
the ghost appeared.’

‘
You gave the game away. As I toured the nave I noticed you were watching my progress, and when I reached the right pillar
you leaned forward to get a better look.’

I slumped back on the bench as I savoured my relief that the supernatural intuition had proved to be an example of earthbound common sense, but the next moment I remembered that the other
mysteries had yet to be solved. I leant forward again. ‘So far so
good,’ I said. ‘But let’s now get down to brass tacks. What exactly
was it that happened when I made my disastrous attempt to pray?’

‘
The ghost closed in and a demon erupted.’

‘
Hall, I’m a former professor of divinity. Put your kid gloves on
again and —’

‘
Okay, forget that last sentence. In my opinion what happened
was a very unpleasant example of fragmentation during prayer.
You said that when you began to pray you "opened your mind". That phrase sounds as if you were widening your mind, flinging
open the gates, but if I understand you correctly the exact reverse
was true; you were opening your mind to God, but to do so you
had to narrow the channel of your thoughts in order to concentrate
single-mindedly on the first person in your prayer-scheme, and because you were already in an overstrained state, this form of
narrowed consciousness wasn’t wide enough to contain your emo
tions – with the result that a rupture followed which allowed
chaotic feelings from the unconscious to spill upwards on to the
surface of your mind. This unexpected presentation of feelings
which you normally suppressed would have been a severe shock
to you.

Now, when people suffer a severe shock, their body temperature drops and they become extremely cold. They can also display symptoms of nausea and find it difficult to breathe. My thesis is –’

‘
But how do you explain my earlier objection that I felt the
disturbance was something external?’

‘That would have been an illusion created by your ego, frantically
trying to detach itself from this onslaught pouring out of the
unconscious mind. You were trying to defend yourself against the danger of further fragmentation by converting the internal disturbance into an external force which could be more easily
mastered.’

‘
But why in heaven’s name should praying for Aysgarth trigger
this gigantic upheaval in my mind?’

‘
The obvious answer is that there was a link between Aysgarth
and Jardine, but if you were vulnerable at that moment the
upheaval could well have happened anyway, even if you’d been
praying for someone else.’

‘
Maybe I’m being very dense,’ I said, ‘but I still don’t quite see
what was going on. Why was I so vulnerable?’

‘
Not being able to read your mind like a book, I’m not sure I
can answer that question, but it seems fairly clear that for some
reason or other you were working yourself into a state about
Jardine and this generated great tension. I think that the ghost
was present to you as soon as you entered the Cathedral – and
was even presenting himself to you as you approached it. He was
knocking on the door of your mind, and when you knelt in front
of that throne he began not just to knock but to hammer. You
fought to keep the door closed, but –’

‘The lock broke.’

‘
The lock broke and he got in but you had to get him out
straight away – and so you did when you reached the pulpit steps
and looked down the nave. At that point you managed to eject
the memory from your consciousness by projecting it on to the
Cathedral – to the second pillar on the left at the back, which
was the spot you happened to be looking at when the projection
occurred. As soon as your conscious mind had "seen" Jardine in
this way, the pressure of the ghost on your psyche was eased and –’

‘
No, It wasn’t,’ I said. ‘The polluted atmosphere choked me
again and I rushed out of the Cathedral.’

‘
Ah, but the polluted atmosphere didn’t emanate from the ghost
either then or earlier,’ said Hall. ‘It emanated from the demon.’

I looked heavenwards as if hoping for a miraculous infusion of
patience and tried hard to conceal my irritation. It seemed wiser
to avoid all comment.

‘
Before we start trying to identify the demon,’ said Hall hur
riedly, ‘I’d just like to tie up that loose end relating to the ghost.
Was there, in fact, a link between Aysgarth and Jardine?’

I can see now that he was trying to calm me down by asking a
humdrum question, but at the time I was merely relieved to hear
a sentence which could be described as rational. I answered shortly: ‘Aysgarth was Jardine’s protégé. Jardine picked him to be the Arch
deacon of Starbridge back in 1937.’ And as I spoke I was realising
that what had linked the two men in my mind was not their
professional past but their penchant for young women.

Knowing I could not discuss their shortcomings as priests with Hall I added: ‘I think I can see now how a prayer about Aysgarth
could have opened the door to a powerful memory of Jardine. But
what I can’t see is why you have to drag in this metaphor of the
demon. Isn’t it sufficient to say that Jardine’s memory, powerful
and disturbing as it undoubtedly was, caused the fragmentation,
generated the atmosphere of evil and nearly frightened me out of
my wits?’

‘You want to lay all the blame on the ghost?’

‘Well, why not?’

‘
Because it doesn’t make sense. All the evidence suggests the
ghost was benign.’

‘But surely —’

‘
And all the evidence suggests his appearance allowed a demon
to run amok.’

‘What evidence?’ I demanded outraged. ‘I’ve never heard such
paranormal poppycock in all my life! You’ve no evidence of a
demon whatsoever!’

‘Oh yes, I have,’ said Hall.