The Inhabitant of the Lake and Less Welcome Tenants

the crowd below were not passing through the square; more milling about to give that impression, but really awaiting something — and watching covertly. He noticed suddenly that all of them avoided the road opposite his window; a road which he saw was unusually wide and bordered by obviously disused buildings. Raising his gaze, Leakey discovered that the road connected the square to the large bare hill behind the town. There was a trail of faint marks on that road, but he could not make out any shape.

He looked towards the hill again, and saw the railway stretching into the distance. Then he remembered, and turned angrily to leave for the station.

At that moment the door slammed and a key turned in the lock.

Leakey threw his weight against the door, but he could hear at the same time something heavy being shoved against it from the outside. Nobody answered his irate shouts, and he ran for the window. Looking down he saw the wall below was smooth, devoid of handholds, and escape upward was just as difficult. He drew back at the thought of jumping to the street, and wondered frantically how he could escape. What lunatic had imprisoned him, and why? But the people of Goatswood were surely not all lunatics — perhaps he could attract the attention of someone in the street.

'Do you know how Goatswood got its name?' said a voice behind him.

Leakey whirled. Nobody was in the room with him.

'Did you ever hear of the Goat of Mendes?' continued the voice slowly, he realised, from beyond the door. 'Do you know what used to appear at the witches' sabbaths? Do you know about the Land of the Goat in the Pyrenees, or the Great God Pan? What about the Protean God? And the Black Goat of the Woods with a Thousand Young?'

Leakey battered the door again, then hurried back to the window. He yelled to the people below, and one looked up. Even at that distance Leakey saw his expressionless face — and the surreptitious movement of his hand. When a crowd began to form directly below the window and stare at him expressionlessly, Leakey threw himself back trembling and glancing wildly round the room.

'The goat's been there all through the ages, you know,' went on the voice. 'The black goat which appeared in the circle of the sects in Spain — the Meadow of the Goat where the Basque magicians used to meet — and always the devil appears as a hybrid animal… Why do you think the priests of Jupiter offered a white goat on the Ides? — but you wouldn't know of the cosmic complements… And you've no idea of the basis of the Haitian goat-girl ritual, or what horror lies behind the myth of the Golden Fleece…'

'What's all this you're saying?' screamed Leakey. 'Let me out, will you!' but when no answer came he subsided and collapsed on the bed.

'Oh, you won't understand it all yet — not yet… All I'm trying to tell you is that he is here, very near at this moment — he has been here since before the human race… Maybe he has always been here, or maybe he came from out there, but the Others — those from Glyu'uho — imprisoned him within the star-signs, and only on nights of the moon can his body come out inside their boundary. But he goes forth if you call through the reversed angles, though then he's only partly corporeal — that's what'd appear at the sabbaths.

'They wouldn't tell all that happened at the Black Mass, of course. He came, but not in his real shape — that'd be too much even for the worshippers — but he retained certain portions of his real form. I suppose you've heard how they used to kiss his arse? Well, that wasn't just to be dirty — he's not built like a goat, and from there he puts things forth to draw off blood. But you'll know more about that tonight.

'You may get a bit of a shock tonight when you see us naked, though. We've gone down below his place, to a region I won't describe to you, and to live longer we've had to… to change. You've probably heard about it in a different way, though — the young of the Black Goat? Gof'nn hupadgh Shub-Niggurath?  But the dryads and fauns and satyrs are a lot different from the classical descriptions, so don't think you're prepared—'

As suddenly as it had begun, the voice ceased. Leakey stared out of the window; the sun had almost set. He glared at the door, the window, the walls, but could see no avenue of escape. The crowd still waited below; an unintelligible muttering drifted up. Suddenly he felt very tired, and sank back on the bed.

When he awoke, the moon had risen.

It shone whitely on the street below as he craned out the window. The crowd below were passive no longer; they were standing in a stiff semi-circle around that central pylon, staring towards the hill opposite. He raised the window-frame more, and it rattled — but nobody looked up. He could hear a chorused murmur from below, a chant whose words were inaudible, and he began to realise just how serious his position was. Were they all insane? Was he trapped after dark in a town of lunatics? Clutched by sudden terror, he pushed the wardrobe against the door, and reinforced it with the bed.

What had the man who had imprisoned him said—'you'll know more about that tonight'? Surely the whole town couldn't be caught up by this mad belief. A god that came into the town on moonlit nights — and that wasn't all. If he was right, there was a cult of Satanists in this town — and they were supposed to make a sacrifice to Satan on ritual nights. A human sacrifice — was that what they wanted him for?

At a shout from below, Leakey rushed to the window and looked down. A figure in black robes was standing by the pylon with his back to Leakey. He was adjusting the ropes tied to the pivot, and as he did so the lens and mirrors shifted, and a concentrated beam of moonlight moved up the road towards the hill. This must be the lunatic who had imprisoned him — but who..?

Then the figure turned. The man was wearing a robe covered with phallic designs, and round his neck hung a necklace of small pink cylinders — whose identity Leakey sickly suspected — but he was still recognizable as the manager of the Central Hotel.

'He is coming! She is coming!' he shouted in that slow, thick voice. 'Make the way easy!'

Then, to Leakey's horror, the crowd began to chant: 'Astarte — Ashtaroth — Magna Mater… Ia! Shub-Niggurath! Gorgo, Mormo, thousand-faced moon, look favourably on our sacrifices… Ram with a Thousand Ewes, fill us with thy seed that more may come to worship at thy shrine… Gof'n hupadgh Shub Niggurath…'

The disc of concentrated moonlight was now steadily creeping up the hill as the robed priest manipulated the ropes. Suddenly it wavered and stopped, the priest gave an inarticulate cry, and the crowd fell silent. In that silence Leakey heard a faint restless stirring, as of something distant — and vast.

Then the hill burst open.

That was how it seemed to Leakey. Almost at once he realised that a door had opened in it; a door which occupied the whole side of the hill. The little moonlight that shone beyond the gaping hole revealed the beginning of an immense passage. Back in the darkness, something pale and enormous shifted and glistened with reflected light.

Suddenly Leakey turned and ran for the door. He did not want to see what would come forth from that passage. He wanted to escape from this room and into the street, even if the crowd killed him. He struggled to move the bed, but it would not shift. He had only just managed to heave it into position — escape that way was impossible.

At that moment the crowd in the square cried out hysterically. Slowly, reluctantly, Leakey turned to look out of the window.

Something was standing in the doorway of the hill. It was the thing in the photograph; but that photograph had been too small to show all the details, and it had not been alive or moving. The head was worst of all, for those great yellow eyes peered in different directions, and all the coils were twisting and jerking, sometimes transparent so that he could see into the head.

The thing moved out of the doorway, and the three spines moved with a grotesque rowing motion to heave the body forward. The beak opened, and from it a voice issued — sibilant and high-pitched, it spoke to its worshippers who now swayed back and forth in the square to the chant. They were becoming frenzied — here and there one would feverishly strip, but Leakey turned nauseated from these sights.

Suddenly his numb composure broke, and he screamed and battered the door, tore at the immovable bed, and looked vainly around for some weapon. Outside he heard the priest yelling incomprehensibly, and a whistling voice answering him.

The priest yelled: 'Ia! Shub-Niggurath! The Goat accepts our sacrifice!'