The Fool - Chapter Five
=======================

I
-

The bull-headed priest is leading yet another invocation in a language
I do not recognise. Robed in red, wearing a complicated multi-tier
headpiece, he stands facing us between the black and white pillars
flanking the altar in the eastern wall of the temple. Raising a
sceptre with a three-fold cross high in his left hand he emits a
fluent stream of syllables from his mouth, and although I do not
understand or recognise a single word, I can feel the potency of his
oration, and the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end.

Two masked acolytes in flowery robes kneel before the priest;
occasionally they seem to break in with an answer or to repeat the
syllables he has just spoken. Along the north and south sides of the
temple stand rows of people in masks and dark robes. They too intone
certain syllables along with the priest.

Along the western side of the temple stand two rows of people only in
simple black eye-masks. I am one of these; Beth, standing next to me,
is another. None of us have said a word since the ritual began, when
we were required to put on our masks before being permitted to enter
the room, having each been taught to repeat a special incantation
before crossing the threshold.

I look at Beth. Her masked face is utterly impassive, staring at the
priest in his robes and bull's-head mask. She betrays no sign of
emotion whatsoever, and I feel suddenly unable to so much as touch her
hand.

II
--

I hadn't wanted to go out tonight, having suffered all day with an
appalling hangover, but Beth had been insistent.

"I really need you to do me a favour," she had said, the instant I had
picked up the phone.

"Anything."

"I've kind of promised Mum I'd go along to this ceremony of her's
tonight, but I really don't want to go on my own. Will you come with
me?"

I was silent a while.

"Thing is I'm..."

"Please, Adam. I've got to do this but I don't really want to and just
can't... please come Adam. It won't be so bad. Plus..."

"If it won't be so bad, why don't you..."

"Just tell me that you'll come."

"Ok, alright, so I'll come, fine."

"O thank you Adam. It's not that it's so bad, it's just that most of
the people I know there are my Mum's students, and it's kind of
strange for me sometimes. That's all."

"Ok. What, er, kind of ceremony is it?"

"It's the Ritual of the Bull, a first grade initiation into the
Mysteries of Earth. I think it's a load of old bull myself, but I've
realised that unless I go to one, I'll never get Mum off my back about
it. Can you pick me up at seven from my place?"

"Ok, I'll see you then."

III
---

The priest has been passed an incense burner on a long brass chain,
and has moved forward from the altar, wafting the smoke first north,
then south, then west, then east. The smell of the smoke is fresh and
pungent, and the atmosphere in the room grows unaccountably warm.

I shift in my spot, suddenly uncomfortable in my mask. Beth feels it
too, and suddenly grabs my hand in hers. I feel a warm rush of energy
between us as we clasp hands, and my discomfort recedes.

Now the priest is raising both arms towards us in a blessing, and
speaks English. Of sorts.

"By the powers vested in me by the Power of Taurus, by the crystals in
my threefold head-dress, by the energies sown into my robe, by the
spirit essence represented by my threefold sceptre, by the Keys of
this Holy Altar and the sacred scent of the Eternal Censer, by the
Acolytes of the North and the Acolytes of the South, and the two
Temple Acolytes of the High Priest, by all the five hundred Holy Names
I have chanted, each in their proper order with none omitted, nor any
extra introduced, I, Archpriest of Taurus, now stand ready to bestow,
impart and transmit the Secret of the Bull to all present who so
desire to receive it."

IV
--

We form an orderly queue, and one by one shuffle forward to kneel
before the Archpriest of Taurus, who is smearing each candidate
lightly on the forehead with a little ash from the censer.

Beth is in front of me in the queue, and does not seem happy about the
prospect of being smeared with ash. Her forehead is wrinkled into a
frown, but when it comes to her turn, she receives her ash-blessing
with a small sigh and an oddly beatific smile.

I am next.

As I come to kneel before the priest, there is a strange expression in
his eyes and he appears to hesitate for a moment. I relax myself as
completely as I can, given that I am kneeling on a hard stone surface,
and feel the hot touch of the priest's fingers on my forehead. Other
than that I feel nothing.

I stumble slightly as I rise, and one of the acolytes rushes forward
to steady me. When I return to my place in the wall at the West of the
Temple, Beth seems infinitely distant again. My hand hovers near hers
but I am unable to touch her, as if some magnetic force is repelling
me.

Eventually, all the candidates are initiated, and the priest begins
the closing chants of the ceremony, once again in some language that I
do not understand.

Finally, we are ushered out of the room, back next door, where, it
seems, we are free to remove our masks and partake of the light
refreshments laid out absurdly on a trestle-table at one end.

V
-

"Alright," says Beth. "We'll just hang around here for a while, say
hello to Mum, then go for a drink. Ok?"

I nod. I am not being asked to agree to anything here, just to accept
it. To be honest, I could do with a drink. People are milling around
shyly, sipping at fruit juices and staring blankly at biscuits. I am
feeling completely vacuous and empty.

"Ah Beth," says Dora, appearing as if from nowhere with a flourish of
her long black robe. "There you are."

She hands Beth a plastic cup of apple juice.

"Now you must have some of this. Adam, you don't have anything to
drink either."

She hands me her own cup of apple juice, and goes to get more.

"Well," she says, at length. "I never thought I'd see you here,
Beth. And Adam, welcome to the Society of Mysteries. I hope you find
much here that will interest you on your path."

"Path," I say, dumbly.

Dora stares at me for a moment as if I have two heads, then turns to
Beth.

"I'm so glad you did this, Beth. I can't tell you how grateful I am. I
know you only did it to stop me nagging you about it, but I'm glad
anyway."

Beth smiles at her, a lazy, slow smile.

"Well, thank you, Mum. You were right. It wasn't so bad."

VI
--

Just as we are about to leave, I catch sight of a man I half-recognise
over the other side of the room. It is hard to get a good view of him,
since he is surrounded on all sides by people in black robes. Finally
I do manage to get a clear view of him, and while he does look
incredibly familiar, I cannot for the life of me remember who he is.

I nudge Beth and ask if she knows him.

"Oh," she says. "That's Peter, the Archpriest of Taurus. He's kind of
like a counterpart to Mum in the Society of Mysteries. I don't really
know him at all, to be honest."

I am still none the wiser. I don't know anyone called Peter.

As we are making our way through the room towards the exit, though, he
catches sight of me, and waves.

"Barry," he says, coming over. "How unexpected. I didn't think I'd be
seeing you here. Welcome."

The Archpriest of Taurus turns out to be Peter Chapman. I should have
guessed from the Motorhead tie pin.

"My name is Adam," I mutter. "It's Adam."

"You know him?" asks Beth.

"Not really..." I begin.

"Through work," says Peter. "Nice to see you here, Beth. Is it your
mother's birthday?"

"We were just leaving," says Beth. "Nice to see you, Peter."

VII
---

"Well," says Beth, once we are safely in the pub, "I thoroughly hated
that. Sorry for making you do it, Adam, but I really needed someone to
be there."

"Ok that's ok," I say nonchalantly.

"I can't believe you're temping for Peter Chapman at the
moment. That's just such an absurd coincidence."

"Yes."

"My mother tries to tell me that this kind of thing happens all the
time, but actually, it's hardly ever."

"Well..."

"So," says Beth. "How does it feel to be an Initiate in the Society of
Mysteries."

"I don't feel any more mysterious than before, I must say."

She giggles. "Nor do I. I thought I felt something when he touched me,
but..."

"Well, that was probably him touching you."

"No, I meant more than him touching me."

"Oh."

"Anyway. It seems to have gone now. You have to take these things with
a pinch of salt, I think. Mum's happy at least, she can stop nagging
me. Apparently it's really important to her that I'm at least an
Initiate. Christ knows why."

"He does?"

"Apparently."

VIII
----

Beth bids me goodbye on her doorstep with a big hug and a long, deep
kiss. She would invite me in, she assures me, only she has to be up
early tomorrow morning. This makes complete sense to me and I believe
it.

I stand at the bus stop, shivering slightly with the cold and with a
strange mix of elation and deflation. When the bus arrives, it is
empty, and I sit in my customary spot at the back of the lower deck,
on the right-hand side.

At the next stop, an elderly vagrant with long flowing white hair gets
on the bus. He is carrying a can of beer in one hand and a plastic bag
in the other, and I can smell him from the other end of the
bus. Slowly and deliberately, he pays his fare, then marches all the
way to the back of the bus, sitting down one seat away from me.

He turns to me, and makes as if to speak, then winces as if in sudden
shock. A new light comes into his eyes, and he leans forward towards
me, conspiratorially, proferring the can of beer.

"Do you want a drop," he asks, indicating the beer.

"Oh, no thanks," I tell him, cheerfully.

"It is the holy sacrament," he says. "Holy sacrament." He takes a huge
swig from the can, and wipes his chin on his sleeve.

"The nectar of the gods," he says. "Nectar of the gods."

He leans towards me again.

"Do you want a drop," he asks. "Holy sacrament."

"No thank you," I say, more firmly.

"Suit yourself then."

He turns away, finishes the contents of the can, and belches with
pleasure.

"Nectar," he says.

IX
--

When I get home, I am exhausted, but find myself unable to
sleep. Everything in the room seems alien to me - the bookshelf, the
computer, the table, the dirty mugs in the sink. It is as if all of it
belongs to someone else, somehow. It all smells odd and unfamiliar,
and I have no memory whatsoever of how at least half of it got there.

Since I can't sleep, I may as well make myself useful, and I find
myself standing there at four in the morning, doing the washing up,
and wondering if the noise of the running water and clinking utensils
really is as loud as it seems to be.

"I'm just stoned," I tell myself. "It isn't really that loud."

But five minutes later, there is a banging on my door, and I answer it
to find Alan, the bloke from upstairs, standing there in a dressing
gown, looking dishevelled.

"Look mate," he says, "I'm sorry to bother you, but could you leave
your washing up until the morning. I'm trying to sleep upstairs and
the noise..."

I apologise to him, and he disappears into the night. I've finished
the washing up by now anyway.

X
-

I am a bird of prey, soaring across great open expanses of brown earth
on large black wings. Small bushes clump here and there across the
flat landscape, but there are no other distinguishing features to be
seen - no trees, no buildings, no mountains, nothing. The sun is
relatively low in the sky, but is already harsh and hot in my face as
I continue my flight.

I catch an updrift and soar higher, faster for a while, then catch a
glint of something shiny on the ground below, a little distance ahead
of me. Instinctively I aim myself downwards, directly at it.

As I approach, it shines and sparkles and gleams in the sun. I still
have no idea what it is. As I grab at the object with huge talons, I
feel a metal chain slipping over my leg and catching on my foot, and
looking down a moment I finally catch a glimpse of the thing. It is
the incense censer from the ceremony. I beat my wings and rise slowly,
fitfully, the censer dangling perilously from my legs, great flashes
of sunlight glinting from it into my eyes and making me squint and
blink.

But this body is strong, these wings are powerful, and I catch another
updrift and soar once more, onward, upward, towards the sun. My beak
opens and I scream and yell for joy, wordlessly and tunelessly. I soar
onward.