Read The Necromancer Whole Book Page 15


  Unfortunately I didn’t know if these were the poppets used in the ceremony against Edward, Richard, his wife and son. At this point the Thames is tidal, I took four stones from the margin between high and low water; I also took a small metal hammer with a very large foot and a cloth.

  One of the problems with high magic, no matter how compelling you make the ritual, is that very few single impressions on the human mind endure for very long. Quite simply the magic wears off. Even where you supplicate outside support, let’s say from God in spiritual healing, the subconscious mind has to maintain some sort of link. Without external support the problem is much worse. This is why poppets are used as virtual memory. All physical matter retains an imprint of what it has experienced, but you can see a wax doll will retain an impression less well than something more durable. Little is more durable than stone. While wax takes an impression easily, it is possible to achieve the same impression with stone, hence the hammer.

  With one for each of Morton’s victims, in turn I placed the stones under the cloth; I built up the strongest mental picture I could of the person for each stone, together with a field of protection and source of strength. At the moment of most intense concentration I whacked the stone with the hammer through the cloth. You may say this couldn’t help King Edward, but it couldn’t hurt either.

  By the way, anyone using the ideas in the last two paragraphs will find they may work perfectly well for good but anything negative or destructive will simply leek away. Being mindful of human nature, I could not have made it otherwise.

  Lastly I took the four stones to Saint John’s Chapel in the Tower, using the equivalent route of that used by Thomas in our other reality. Once there I sneaked up the stairs to the royal apartments, here I secreted the stones in a place where they would never be found.

  My hope was this was the last manipulation I should do for King Richard or the Princes; but there was a nagging fear; had History got back on track?

  In the following days I eavesdropped.

  On the 6th July 1483 Richard, duke of Gloucester was crowned king of England. In the press of people in the Abbey, in the White Hall and even at the banquet in Westminster Hall, it was difficult to find all the people for whom I looked.

  At different dates in August and September I found Prince Edward and Prince Richard in the grounds of the Tower. One afternoon I found them arguing about the workings of the portcullis in the Garden Tower. Robert Brackenbury, the newly appointed Tower constable, had taken a special liking to the children and ordered compliance with their wishes. I saw his amusement at their continued argument, as the portcullis went down and up three more times.

  I went as far as 9th April 1484. It was the anniversary of the death of Edward IV, not marked in any history book I’ve read. I wanted to find a public gathering of historic figures, but not one which would attract large crowds. In 1484 the people of London were content with their new king and his government, and felt no need to look back.

  I organised for myself a carriage, not grand, and had it stop within sight of the west door of Westminster Abbey where the Bishop of London led a service. It was a bright and fair spring day and I watched as people emerged from the Abbey, I thought myself discretely out of sight.

  There came out and lingered by the door King Richard, Queen Anne and their son, Edward. It was on this date, in our own history, that young Edward, who had been ill for some time, finally died. History has it he died suddenly, and at Sheriff Hutton in Yorkshire. It was good to see him fully recovered and here, in London, with his parents.

  I wondered if this ten year-old Prince of Wales would join with his cousins in the Tower of London, and form the bonds which would shape the next generation.

  Out on the steps came more people, some of whom I thought I recognised. One of them was Anthony Woodville, Earl Rivers. He talked with the King and another man, possibly his nephew, Lord Richard Grey, a man I never met; as people came and went they moved on. Two more people I recognised came out, and, even hidden in my carriage, one of them recognised me! Out of the Abbey came William Hastings, still with Mistress Shore on his arm; she looked radiant, happy and beautiful. William and the King embraced and began to walk off together. Mistress Shore, still on Hastings arm, turned toward my carriage and blew me a kiss.

  I was astonished.

  It hadn’t seemed possible for her to see me.

  As I sat, still amazed, the doors of my carriage simultaneously flew open. Before I could react Earl Rivers and Lord Grey were sat opposite me!

  The Earl had a grin all over his face.

  “Did you think you’d be the only one watching the Abbey today?”

  He was right, I did. I was so used to watching and listening without being seen, it hadn’t crossed my mind.

  He lent forward and fingered the bauble, which was still round my neck.

  “William told me it was this first made him believe you. When he came back from Calais the King told him he would have been arrested if he had stayed in London.”

  He slapped my leg,

  And I said, “Er?”

  “The Guardian of the House of York.

  William also said, if he had died so would we.”

  “Well, I’m pleased to see you all still alive.”

  If you want to keep credibility you learn to react quickly.

  “Tell me, what happened to Margaret Beaufort, I haven’t seen her.”

  “Oh, she went to Brittany to join her son, but Richard will winkle them both out of there. Stanley has gone very quiet; he’s disowned Margaret as a wife.”

  “And your nephews, and your sister?”

  “Elizabeth took it badly, Richard as king. But she accepts it. I’m now the boys’ guardian again, it’s a mark of the King’s trust, and I’ve learned a lot, Guardian.”

  “I’m pleased that so has he.”

  At last Lord Grey spoke,

  “Messenger, you never told Lord Hastings your name.”

  Before I could speak the Earl answered for me.

  “You don’t ask Fate for a name. Come.”

  And with that their lordships were gone, as quickly as they came.

  Was I getting too old for this sort of thing?

  I decided I’d learned enough, at least from this time and this reality. Let it go forward happily; at least there was now a lightness which had been utterly missing when I first saw the world dominated by Bishop Morton.

  ***

  West door, Westminster Abbey.

  End Notes

  After Word on Magic

  I’ve looked at so many tracts on magic from the Middle Ages, and I’m reluctant to recommend any of them. But if you do look at them there’s more to their ponderous slowness and turgid language than meets the eye. Any teacher, or actor, or politician, let alone writer will tell you there’s a great deal to pace and rhythm. Try reading aloud, it may take practice but you’ll notice the difference.

  The ‘feel’ of these, and of all magic, is primary. Without exception, these books convey their own self-importance, and noticing this, and overcoming your modern resistance, is a good first step.

  The second step is to avoid getting lost in the words. Again without exception, if you don’t avoid it the books will drag you down to dullness and you’ll come away with little or nothing.

  What was so admirable in Thomas Nandyke was his perfect attention to these steps. He so lived Homer’s story of the Odyssey that it moved him, quite literally, into another world. No amount of searching the text or analysing the Language will do this.

  So many people look for a rational account, if you physically do this, you will physically get that. Such is the province of physical sciences. The province of Magic is the same as the province of Religion; they both and identically require you to leave the rational, the physical and the self behind – at least, if you are to achieve any real and charismatic results.

  One great advantage that Thomas had, he had very little ‘self’ to give up. It allowed
him to accept the reality of other worlds without insisting on the truths of his own. He said as much in Part I.

  What I have against High Magic, medieval or modern, is this rational element of forcing reality by a trick. Physical manipulations, when not properly understood, can so easily set up a tension and resistance such that, when released from the will of the magician, reality snaps back into unintended consequences – as we have seen in this book.

  How good a magician was Morton? He wasn’t remotely in Thomas’ league. But, as is so often the case with the obsessively ambitious, he had an uncontrolled charisma, capable of a great deal. Could he have worked magic and got his hands on the Princes without Thomas? Not in the way it was done, but my assessment to Lord Hastings was truthful; there was cause for concern while he remained in play.

  Is there evidence of anyone else moving between worlds and changing reality? Certainly, but if I give you too much evidence, so you treat this book more seriously than mere fiction, those with fixed minds will fight like ‘demons’ against that which threatens their certainties – let me not threaten needlessly.

  I will give you just one link to a medieval story in which reality was changed: ‘Tales of the Virgin.’ This was accepted by the authorities, in its day, because reality was changed by the Virgin Mary, not by the workings of human magicians.

  Any miracle is, of course, by definition, a change of reality. For my students I identify two types of miracle: the ‘demonstration miracle’ and the ‘operative miracle.’ In the first case, such as the miracle at Fatima, the point is precisely that people should notice reality is being changed (see Wikipedia). The second case is where, before the miracle, what would happen should be clearly impossible; after it happened, any other outcome would have been equally impossible. In our less religious age, I would like to suggest such tinkering with reality has always been a very human, as well as a divine activity.

  As to merely visiting other worlds and places, my witness is the great and unimpeachable Emanuel Swedenborg.

  As to the working of magic today, if you want a modern book, I shall disappoint. There are a number of respected writers on magic; many of their books are still in copyright, not only would I not infringe their ownership or prefer one to another, I would not invite you to spend your money on my recommendation. Besides, magic is very personal; what one student will find inspirational will leave another unmoved, and at the same time, a third will be led into dark and unprofitable ways.

  In the modern age we have largely lost sight of magic which stayed the right side of medieval law. This was the ancient science of Alchemy, ‘the great work,’ and in it is much that would be recognised as magical. Let me offer two references: the first is a basic, ancient and profound source, let me offer a link to what you may find a rather fanciful rendering ‘The Emerald Tablet of Thoth’

  Here and far less fanciful, courtesy of Wikipedia, is Sir Isaac Newton’s translation of the Emerald Tablet:

  1.Tis true without lying, certain most true.

  2.That which is below is like that which is above that which is above is like that which is below to do the miracles of one only thing.

  3.And as all things have been arose from one by the mediation of one: so all things have their birth from this one thing by adaptation.

  4.The Sun is its father, the moon its mother,

  5.the wind hath carried it in its belly, the earth its nurse.

  6.The father of all perfection in the whole world is here.

  7.Its force or power is entire if it be converted into earth.

  Separate thou the earth from the fire, the subtle from the gross sweetly with great industry.

  8.It ascends from the earth to the heaven again it descends to the earth and receives the force of things superior and inferior.

  9.By this means ye shall have the glory of the whole world thereby all obscurity shall fly from you.

  10.Its force is above all force. for it vanquishes every subtle thing and penetrates every solid thing.

  So was the world created.

  11.From this are and do come admirable adaptations whereof the means (Or process) is here in this.

  12.Hence I am called Hermes Trismegist, having the three parts of the philosophy of the whole world.

  13.That which I have said of the operation of the Sun is accomplished and ended.

  The other is ‘The Ordinal of Alchemy,’ which was written by a courtier of Edward IV, one Thomas Norton, in 1477. You can find the Ordinal at Google Books, but I know of no source from which you can download it free.

  ***

  After Word on Reality

  As you know, I’ve no wish to threaten those who need fixed certainties, but for those who wish to use their reason and are willing to face uncertainty, try this link; it is a modest submission on the subject.

  Actually it makes little difference what we think, what counts is what we believe.

  It also matters what we are.

  Things, forces, qualities and attributions will be true to their natures and conceptions, in this they have no choice and, to that extent, their realities are fixed.

  A defining quality of a living being is that it does have choice (this may well be unconscious and I refuse to get into a definition of ‘choice’ for lower orders of life). Even in humans the overwhelming majority of choices are made at a subconscious level. However made, and at whatever level it operates, the election of a choice selects reality from as greater range of possibilities as there are choices.

  It will rapidly appear that the enormous number of choices which could be made in any moment would create an almost infinite number of realities. On practical grounds this would be unworkable and there are constraints. The first constraint is that one person (or frame of reference) should not be able to hold conflicting choices. I say ‘should’ because the dishonesty of the conscious mind or ego facilitates rather a large number of conflicting choices. The presence of these conflicts in an individual is sharply disempowering, as they cancel each other out, there are also resulting failures of perception, and dis-ease which can very much shorten life.

  Although it is possible to manipulate things, forces, qualities and attributions; unless this is done choices in conflict with them will be disempowered. It is for this reason the laws of physics are thought to be fixed.

  Without question, the strongest force in Creation is Love. This holds the normal, ‘well balanced’ individual in approximate harmony and in designated place and context with those around them. In such individuals disruptive choices are simply disempowered. There are, of course, tyrants and fanatics who have an overwhelming love of themselves or some ‘cause’ and little or no love for humanity: such aberrant creatures as Morton, Beaufort, Louis XI, like Hitler, Napoleon or Mao Zedong, can do enormous damage precisely because their destructive choices are not limited by Love.

  Coming back to choice, at least at the conscious level, for it to be powerful and effective it must be intended and accompanied by true belief. This is why the prayers of the devout, even for miracles, are answered; while the hopes of the buyers of lottery tickets are usually disappointed.

  A law identified at the level of atomic physics applies to choices. At some point the level of conflict between realities (being the sum total of one set of choices as against the sum total of another set) will make the two mutually exclusive. In this there is a power gradient or resistance which can similarly be observed in sound, between notes and between octaves, which has fascinated philosophers from ancient times. It has always amused me that this concept, even when applied to the possible tracks of an electron in an atom, is called “sum over histories.”

  ***

  After Word on Truth – A Prayer to Ma’at

  When I mentioned the existence of alternative realities; that every time a choice is possible reality follows all the choices which can be made, that idea left each of these realities equally valid. It allows there is somewhere a reality in which Thomas did not take the
Princes from the Tower and that world followed a different course from the world in which the Princes did disappear and Henry Tudor became king of England. It left the comforting thought the world in which you and I think we live really does exist. In chapter 40 I checked Thomas’ world for anomalies and found none. Having returned to this world I found it is we who have the anomalies, they are the very problems that started this story.

  This idea gives me no comfort but honesty requires it must be stated, and this postscript follows necessarily therefrom.

  You will have seen the acts of stage hypnotists, who persuade their victims they are chickens or some other impossible thing. The ‘humour’ is that the victim thinks he is living in a reality which we know does not exist. It is wonderfully absurd that he should not notice the impossible contradictions of what he believes to be the truth.

  After I saw and set out the contradictions you read in Part I, there was one awful thought kept repeating itself; ‘Why have we not all noticed?’

  It couldn’t be ignored. Thomas didn’t have the answer, I’d concentrated on him and maybe that’s why I missed it. I hadn’t asked Morton and he hadn’t volunteered it. Now I asked again, giving Morton the suggestion he had to think about it, so clearly I could see and hear. It wasn’t easy to pry it out of him.

  I found the Bishop in a room in Ely Palace in Holborn. The room was the most hidden and secure part of the whole building, there were no windows and only one door, to which only Morton had the key.

  In the centre of the room was a small table, covered by a plain white cloth and on which stood a seven branched candlestick. The room was brightly lit, with further candles in each corner, and there was Morton, kneeling on a stool before the table. The stool was necessary; it allowed him to reach each of seven vessels on the table, the contents of which he poured into a large and open cup. As he did this he recited from a sheet in front of him, most of it was a rhythmic chant which he muttered under his breath and I could not catch the words. After each time he poured liquid from a vessel his voice rose and there were repeated phrases I could hear; there were two sets of phrases, “All believe” and “All Deny,” the second set was “All Forget” and “All Remember.”