chapter 13 At Cleopatra’s Needle
AT CLEOPATRA’S NEEDLE
They find the waiting coachman fast asleep with a still-smoldering pipe between his teeth.
Crowley awakens the poor man and orders him to return them to Chancery Lane.
Just before Bennett steps in, a large raven swoops down near the gutter and intercepts a scurrying mouse.
With the squirming mouse still in its beak, the bird flutters up and perches on the back of the horse.
The coachman tries to scare it away with his whip, but the bird ignores it.
Bennett sees this and cracks a smile. “Coachman! Instead of Chancery Lane, please follow to where that raven leads.”
“What, sir?”
“Follow that bird. My friends and I wish to go where it leads us.”
The raven drops the mouse in the street and takes flight. Bennett squeezes between Jones and Crowley.
“A slight detour, gentlemen.”
The bird leads the cab through narrow East End streets and across Blackfriars Bridge to the Victoria Embankment and Cleopatra’s Needle.
It circles the obelisk several times, then finally sets down between the paws of one of the bronze sphinxes that flank the great stone. The coachman pulls to a stop. Bennett gets out and walks toward the monument. Jones and Crowley follow.
Bennett is obviously amused. “Lovely day for a stroll by the Thames.”
He approaches the raven, and says something in a very peculiar tone of voice. “Codelim! Cohabim!”
The bird flutters madly for a moment, then transforms into a beautiful raven-haired woman. It is Moina Mathers.
“Allan, dear, you are so talented.”
He smiles but says nothing. A blob of bird guano splatters his overcoat, and he looks up to see a large white crane circling the obelisk. It perches awkwardly upon the apex.
Using his peculiar voice, he shouts up at it, “Natsa Adrois!”
The bird appears terrified and is knocked from its perch. Bennett shouts a little louder, “Tolot Siura!”
The crane seems to lose its ability to fly but finally catches the air and glides with intense speed directly toward Bennett’s head.
“Astan! Astan!” Bennett laughingly shouts.
The crane swerves and lands at Bennett’s feet. After a moment of preening its feathers, the crane transforms into a man. It is MacGregor Mathers. The two magicians hug and laugh like school boys.
Crowley is so stunned by what he’s just witnessed he is unable to remain standing. He staggers backward and plops onto a bench.
A few minutes later, the five magicians stroll leisurely by the Thames. Mathers, Moina, and Bennett walk ahead of Crowley and Jones.
Bennett chides the Matherses. “I wish I’d known you both were in town.” [cough]
Moina answers, “We wanted our visit to be a surprise.”
She stops and turns to Jones and Crowley. “Brother Jones we know. But who, may I ask, is this gentleman?” Her words betray an undercurrent of distaste.
Bennett jumps to rescue Jones from the burden of introductions. “Forgive me. MacGregor and Moina Mathers, this is our newest initiate, Mr. Aleister—”
Mathers finishes. “Edward Alexander Crowley.”
He turns to Crowley, looks him square in the eye, and then rubs his hand up and down Crowley’s back, feeling the scourge welts. He says nothing but turns to continue leading the company on their leisurely stroll. Finally, he breaks his silence.
“Gentlemen, our Holy Order is on the brink of rebellion. My authority is being challenged.”
Jones protests, “Certainly none of us here . . .”
“We’re aware of that, George. And we are most gratified by your steadfast loyalty.”
Moina comes straight to the point. “It’s Annie Horniman! It’s Annie who’s stirring up the others with her lies. She has the nerve to suggest that MacGregor has lost contact with the Secret Masters. How could that spoiled little inheritrix possibly know . . .”
Bennett starts to cough again but gets out the words, “I wouldn’t be so hard on Annie. After all, she spends—”
“Oh, yes,” Mathers cynically agrees. “She makes certain all the world knows that she pays our expenses in Paris. But that doesn’t give her the right to challenge my authority.
“Allan, I wanted you to be the first to know. I’m removing Horniman from leadership and demanding an oath of loyalty from her and all the officers and members. It has to be done.”
There is an awkward silence, then Moina produces from her bag a document. She unfolds it with a snap. “And you gentlemen have the honor of being the first to sign the oath. Allan, we know how much the others respect your wisdom.”
Bennett cautiously takes the paper from Moina. “Of course. But really, do you think this is necessary? I’m afraid it’s only going to make matters worse.”
“Then let it!” Mathers snaps. “I don’t care if we lose the lot. Good riddance, I say! The magicians standing here will ensure the order survives.”
Bennett and Jones stand silent, but Crowley is obviously flattered and overcome by a wave of fervent loyalty for Mathers. He reaches into his coat pocket and removes a fountain pen.
“Please. Allow me to sign next.”
Mathers coldly looks Crowley in the eye. “Brother Crowley, the others hate you.”
Crowley is stunned by these words. So are Jones and Bennett. Moina looks on with barely stifled loathing.
“Hate me? But why? I have nothing but the profoundest admiration . . .”
“They envy your genius, Brother Crowley. They envy your talent; they envy your free spirit. But most of all, they hate you because you believe you can do anything. And they sense that a magician who doesn’t know limits to his power . . . has no limits to his power.”
Crowley and Mathers hold each other’s gaze for a moment.
Moina scarcely conceals her jealousy. She spoils the moment. “If you gentlemen will please sign now; we need to be calling on Sister Horniman.”
Bennett pauses for a moment, then signs, then Crowley (still somewhat shaken), then Jones. Moina snatches back the paper and replaces it in her bag.
“Thank you, gentlemen. Now we really must fly!” She turns dramatically, making her short cape spread out like wings. Everyone expects her to transform back into a raven. Instead, she loudly whistles and hails a nearby cab.
Mathers turns to Bennett, “If you need us, we’ll be with Moina’s aunt in Upper Clapton until Friday.”
Hearing this, Crowley pipes up, “Upper Clapton? I’ll not hear of it. You will stay as my guest at Claridge’s.”
He removes a card from his wallet and hands it to Mathers. “Give this to Dinky at the front desk.”
Moina looks askance. “Dinky? Is that short for anything.”
“Oh, yes,” Crowley assures her. “Dinky is short for everything. Good man, Dinky. A dear friend. He shares my passion for rock climbing.”
Mathers looks at the card. “This is too generous of you Brother Crowley. Thank you.”
“It’s the least I can do. After all, once you sack Annie, she’s sure to cut off your stipend. You’ll be needing every farthing.” Crowley smiles broadly, completely unaware of how awkwardly insulting his words are.
Moina is silently ready to explode.