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Authors: Katherine Kurtz

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BOOK: Lammas Night
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“And I am appalled to learn that there are those among my brother's subjects who are unwilling to give the full measure of their support to this war effort!” William snapped. “Of what use is greater knowledge if it is not used for greater aid? Is it worthy to garner this knowledge only for the increase of one's own pride?”

“Sir!”

“Please sit down, major. I have more to say.”

Collier's jaw dropped, but he sat. Not a word was spoken as William scanned their stunned faces. For the first time since he had entered, he remembered that Gray and Alix and the brigadier were listening. He hoped he was doing all right.

“Very well, then. We all have our jobs to do, and mine tonight is to tell you a story, in hopes that at least some of you will reconsider your previous decisions.” He sat back in his chair more casually.

“In 1581, my many-times-removed ancestress Queen Elizabeth came aboard a gallant little ship called the
Golden Hind
to knight one Francis Drake, who had just circumnavigated the globe. She lost a garter on Drake's quarterdeck that day, just as another royal lady lost a garter at a ball during the reign of Edward III. For some of you, it will be significant when I tell you that Drake, in the presence of several Knights of the Garter, picked up that garter at the Queen's behest and returned it to her.”

He glanced down at his own Garter riband and star before continuing.

“I am inclined to speculate that this action by the Queen constituted a mandate to Drake: a royal recognition, in as specific terms as were consistent with the Queen's official position, of Drake's potential authority in the times to come—seven years later, to be precise. Because in 1588, at Plymouth, Sir Francis Drake is said to have convened—to keep the terminology as neutral as possible—the
occultists
of England to perform a magical working against the Spanish Armada. Specifically, they worked to raise a storm.”

A muttering started to ripple among them, but William cut it off with a curtly raised hand.

“Please! Now, those of you who remember your history will recall that, in fact, a storm did come, and the Armada was defeated against fearsome odds. It was regarded as a miracle, even at the time. Whether Drake's action had any effect on that outcome, I leave to you to decide. I have postulated, however, that the reason Drake could command this gathering of magical practitioners was that he had the royal mandate in the form of the Garter Knights who had witnessed his knighting and the subsequent retrieval of the Queen's garter. Seven years later, I believe it was they who stood by Drake to give legitimacy to his coordination effort when he put out his call.”

Most of them were eying his Garter accoutrements by now, suddenly aware of the collar, which had not been there earlier in the evening. From the expressions, William saw that he was leading them down precisely the path he had planned. He hoped Gray and Alix were ready to make their entrance, for it was getting very close to time.

“I believe we have a close parallel to Elizabethan times today,” William went on. “Again, England faces invasion. Again, there is a man who can be construed to hold the royal mandate—whose knighting seven years ago was witnessed by myself, a Knight of the Garter, and other Garter Knights. Again, the Sovereign can have no active part in all of this—perhaps even less in these times than was possible three and a half centuries ago—but a representative of the Sovereign is aware of the need. At least one of the Garter Knights who supported Drake's leadership for the Armada working was related by blood to the Queen; I think that my relationship to the King goes without saying. I should probably add here that His Majesty knows nothing of what is occurring here tonight.”

He took a deep breath, hoping Gray was ready. “I take this role of royal and Garter patron upon myself, then,” he said solemnly, “well aware of the personal risks I incur by doing so. The need is very great. Now I wish to present to you a man who, I believe, can function as our modern-day Drake—not to command you, as I do not command you, but to help direct the combining of your many and varied abilities to repel this new would-be invader. Sir John Graham.”

As Flynn opened the door, the presence of Alix at Graham's side elicited several gasps of surprise and more than one set of raised eyebrows, but no one dared voice an objection. If there had been any lingering doubt before, William's intentions now became perfectly clear. His masterful handling of the first part of the evening had also been sufficiently impressive that Graham no longer had any qualms about William remaining in the room for the rest of the meeting; they had argued about that in the week just past. Now Graham only wondered whether he could sustain the mood William had created.

No one moved as Graham and Alix entered, paused to make sparse bows before the prince, and took their places to either side of him. Alix sat in a chair to his right, and Graham stood on the left with one hand resting on the finial of the chair back. The symbolism of the physical link to the royal patron was not lost on those who watched.

“Good evening, ladies and gentlemen,” Graham said quietly. “First of all, I must apologize for the manner in which this meeting had to be arranged. It was never my intention to involve His Royal Highness in this, but under the circumstances; his kind offer could hardly be declined. I believe that at least several people in this room know firsthand that I tried, as did Lady Selwyn, to do it more conventionally. I hope that all of you will appreciate the risks His Royal Highness has taken to arrange this meeting for us.”

In the back row, Mrs. Evans lowered her eyes uneasily, and Collier's face took on a more stubborn set, but Graham went on without pause.

“What is important is not the past, however, but the future. You have all been approached by Lady Selwyn and given the basic premise of what we propose. It is basically the same as Drake's grand coven. We ask that each of you convene your respective groups, and any groups over which you have influence, for a joint working on Lammas night. I stress that the actual method of working is up to you.

“Naturally, the more people who can work together in one place, the better. We realize, however, that a true grand coven is neither practical nor possible among so many divergent traditions as you represent, spread over so wide a geographic area. Merely to have all of you working by your own methods at the same time toward a common goal should give us far more power to send against Hitler than even Drake was able to raise against the Armada.”

A man in the second row stood, arms folded belligerently across his chest—another man in black, master of many groups and individuals working in a tradition founded in Elizabethan times.

“Would you have us wish destruction upon Hitler, then, Sir John, and incur the wrath of the fates upon ourselves for daring to judge another? Would you put yourself above the lords of karma?”

Graham shook his head as the man sat down. “No, sir, I would not. However deserving of destruction we might feel Hitler to be, that is not our place to judge. I am suggesting that we concentrate our efforts on the invasion itself—not to stop it once it starts, by storm or other calamity, but to prevent even the attempt to invade. By this, I mean that we work on Hitler's mind. We whittle away at his confidence so that he comes to doubt he can succeed even if he tries. It doesn't matter what we call our methods—prayer, ceremonial magic, Masonic ritual, witchcraft. The point is that we raise energy in whatever way is appropriate to our own traditions and then send our reinforced wills toward him with a single intent:
you cannot come, unable to come
—words to that effect.

“Nothing more overt, for Hitler himself is a black adept, highly trained, and might detect an open psychic attack. We feel that this more subtle approach of undermining his nerve is the safest and least arguable course overall.”

The vicar had gone a little pale, obviously distressed, and Graham nodded in his direction.

“Did you have a question, vicar?”

The man cleared his throat nervously. “Are you saying that Hitler is a black magician?”

“I am. Specific facts are difficult to confirm, but we believe him to be an initiate of long standing in a group called the
Thule Gesellschaft
, within the old
Germanenorden
. These orders spawned many of the mystical elements of Nazism, including the theory of an Aryan master race and hatred of the Jews. Certain evidence suggests that the Thule Group is also a front for a network of other groups of equally dubious motive, most of them political in nature and many of them definitely slanted toward the blacker aspects of ritual magic. There's no doubt that the Thulists are black.”

“Come now, colonel, isn't that what any occult fraternity always says about the opposition?” Collier challenged. “That
they
practice black magic, while
we
obviously practice white?”

Graham shrugged and put his hands in his pockets. It was a valid question despite Collier's way of putting it.

“You be the judge, major. I don't want to alarm our more conservative colleagues by going into needlessly gruesome detail, but I will say that an inner core of the
Thule Gesellschaft
is known to be openly satanist in all its nastiest connotations. Reliable evidence indicates that ritual torture and murder are used routinely as a means of raising power and consciousness. This is in addition to the warped sexual practices and other forms of sadism and human degradation which are part of the satanist's stock in trade. Such operations may, indeed, raise power, but what kind and at what cost to the operator?”

William's brother Freemason, Sir Robert, shifted uneasily, white-faced at Graham's account. Like the vicar, he definitely fell into Graham's category of a more conservative member of their gathering.

“Sir John, I'm finding all of this very hard to believe. To a certain extent, I must agree with Major Collier. What you've told us sounds almost too evil, too perverted—the kind of propaganda that one's own side always tells about the enemy to make them into boogeymen and goblins. Next you'd be having us believe that the Nazis slaughter babies and eat them.”

“I have no need to exaggerate,” Graham said quietly. “The facts speak for themselves. These are no usual wartime atrocities, magnified to make the enemy look worse. What I have told you has been going on for some years. No, this is symptomatic of a far more deeply seated wrongness—one with which, unfortunately, we have to deal. We must be careful that we don't become tainted in the process, pulled down to their level. That is why the indirect approach has been suggested to prevent the invasion, rather than a direct attack on Hitler.”

The other man in black nodded agreement. “You've answered my objection on that count, then.”

“But you have other objections,” Graham supplied.

The man shrugged but said nothing.

“Very well. What other questions may I answer for you?” Graham asked. “Vicar, have I alleviated your fears?”

The vicar fidgeted in his chair, still looking vaguely uncomfortable.

“What about the date? May I ask about the significance?”

“Of course. You're surely aware that in the Christian calendar, Lammas is a festival of first fruits. The name comes from the Anglo-Saxon meaning ‘loaf mass' and refers to the bread made from the first wheat or corn which is offered to God at the beginning of the harvest season. As Lugnasad, Lammas is also the festival of the Celtic sun god Lugh. Either way, Lammas marks the first signs of waning solar influence—a singularly appropriate time to work against Hitler, since he has adopted a corrupted sun symbol in his swastika. By concentrating our work between the hours of ten and midnight on Lammas, we feel that we can maximize our effect on Hitler. Of course, those of you who need or wish longer workings may certainly extend in either or both directions, as seems appropriate.”

“You keep referring to
we
and
us
, colonel,” Collier muttered, fidgeting in his chair. “Just who are these people who have been making decisions about how the rest of us should conduct ourselves? What makes you such a bloody expert?”

Graham sighed. “It should be obvious that Lord and Lady Selwyn are my immediate superiors, major—and you should know better than to ask beyond that. As for my expertise, which aspect do you question? Militarily, I can tell you that RAF reconnaissance only last night observed stepped-up
Seelöwe
activity in several of the occupied Channel ports. We know that the Germans are massing barges and other materiel for the planned invasion.

“Nor is that the whole of it,” he continued patiently. “Occultly speaking, the situation is no less grave. Even were it not for what I have already told you about Hitler and the Thulists, I can assure you that esoteric disciplines such as astrology and divination have been and are now being used against us by the German high command. Hitler makes very few important moves wtihout consulting his astrological advisers. An entire section of German intelligence in Berlin is devoted to harnessing the occult sciences for wartime use. One of the more insidious examples involves the use of dowsers and pendulum practitioners to determine the location of our convoys and major troop concentrations. I'm not saying that they are having any great success at this—for which we must be grateful—but the fact remains that they are making the attempt. All of what I have just told you is fact, not conjecture, gleaned from documentable military intelligence which crosses my desk daily.”

There were gasps, murmurs, and a few knowing nods around the room. Graham waited for the reaction to play itself out.

“Are there any other questions?”

There were many, but they grew increasingly less hostile as Graham managed to field each one with satisfactory answers and reassurances. Alix said little during the exchange, and William nothing at all, though the prince followed all the comments attentively. When, after half an hour or so, things seemed to be winding down, with all in varying if sometimes grudging agreement that a joint effort was not only possible but desirable, Graham held up a hand to curtail further discussion. He hoped Dame Emma was ready for her cue.

BOOK: Lammas Night
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