To Build Jerusalem by John Whitbourn

Author:John Whitbourn [WHITBOURN, JOHN]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Science Fiction
ISBN: 9781473200913
Publisher: Orion Publishing Group
Published: 2015-12-30T23:00:00+00:00

Reviewing their long and hazardous years of training, every newly qualified thaumaturgist gives thanks for mere survival and considers himself Lord of All Creation. He then turns his attention to the field of demonology and finds that he teeters on the edge of uncharted seas, a hapless, ignorant and frightened student once again.

Most – and there is great wisdom in this – turn back inshore and lead lives of usefulness and contentment in the ‘ordinary’ practice of their art. The courage (and folly) of illustrious predecessors have given them the ten major and ninety-seven minor summonings and that suffices. A very few, however, slaves to dangerous compulsions, cannot let matters rest. They are driven (for there can surely be no other reason) to venture out on that sea of unknowing, in far from serviceable craft. Of those few explorers and fishermen – to labour the maritime metaphor – a tiny number come back with a worthwhile catch. No one seems to dwell overmuch on those who fail to return.

In the thirteenth century, the Spaniard Ibarra told us of the powers in the darkness. The Church resisted the news and then, capitulating, called them ‘demons’. Four centuries on, the English Arch-mage Robin Corbishly stared them in the face and wrote down their names. They regarded us with new respect. Two centuries later still, Liguori rewrote the ‘Corbishly Codex’ and dispensed with the division into ‘good’ and ‘evil’. I, in my own day, allowed man to know them better, the easier to prostitute them to our wishes. The Church, my profession, my peers, they all honoured me for this. They were mistaken.

Here at the end of my life, I look out from my palace at Pevensey Bay and watch the sea. The sea does not alarm me; it might be stormy and full of peril, but I know it will ultimately respect the land and not venture in. Moreover, I know it is not infinite. There is an end to the sea and then there is France. The same cannot be said of the demonological ocean.

Another, younger I sailed far out into that expanse and saw that there was no end to it. There is nothing wholesome beyond its furthest limit. Behind the mere ‘demons’ we scarce dare to summon stand their still stronger masters, ascending in power; beyond our comprehension, in unceasing array. Mankind ought not to bring himself to their attention. Should that tide ever sweep in, I misdoubt they would even sense our species’ demise.

But I am old and tired and all that I have learned in my life leads me not to care …

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