I did not dare to let the lid of the box fall shut; my fate, which was in my hands, might have been closed to me, as it was to John Dee, all those years ago, when he threw the gift of the red and white spheres out of the window.
I have no time to lose, I said to myself, I am in the light and – I know, whilst my ancestor, John Dee, was feeling his way in the dark.
Carefully I lifted the marvellous crystal from its disintegrating cushion, meticulously checking the screws of the stand which held the smooth and gleaming piece of coal in place, and placed the miniature work of art in the middle of the desk. Then a mysterious movement began: the crystal started to tremble and oscillate about its axis; it appeared that at its poles it was not fixed, but could turn on the pins of the jewelled frame. As if searching, the coal gradually set itself in alignment with the meridian! Then it came to rest.
Frau Fromm and I watched the spectacle in silence. Then I took her hand in mine and said:
“I thank you, my friend and helper.”
Pleasure flickered across her face. Suddenly she bent down and kissed my hand.
A bright light shot through me for a brief second. Without knowing what I did – without intending it – I said, “Jane!” and took the young woman in my arms, kissing her gently on the forehead. She bowed her head. A sob came from her breast and, as the tears gushed out, she stammered something I could not understand; then she looked at me in bewilderment – shame – horror and fled the room without saying another word.
The evidence, the proof is piling up. In the light surrounding me, why should I deliberately continue to grope around in the darkness of doubt. The past has become present! What is the present but the sum of the past in a moment of consciousness? And because the spirit can call upon this consciousness – this recall – at will, so the present is ever there in the stream of time and the flowing weave can become a broad tapestry spread out for me to contemplate; and I can point to the spot where a particular thread in the weft marks the start of a new design in the pattern. And I can follow the thread, knot by knot, forwards and backwards; it does not break off, it carries the design and the meaning in the design; it is the essence of the tapestry and has nothing to do with its temporal existence.
Here I stand, with my eyes opened, and I recognise myself at a nodal point: I am the reawakened John Dee, Lord of the Manor of Gladhill, who is to complete a design of fate – I am to join the ancient blood of Hywel Dda and Rhodri Mawr to the blood of Elizabeth, so that the design on the tapestry shall be completed! There is only one question left: what is the significance of the living threads drawn by other shuttles which are interwoven with mine? Do they belong to the plan of the tapestry or are they part of the infinite variety of the other patterns created by Brahma?
Frau Fromm – how foreign, how inappropriate the name now sounds to me! – is part of the weave. That it should have taken so long before I realised! She is Jane, John Dee’s second wife – – – my wife! Fits of giddiness keep pulling me down into the abyss of the mystery of consciousness outside the bounds of time.
Ever since she was born into this world Jane has pursued a path closer than mine to the boundaries of the dream that is our life, always ready to wake from it. And I – I? – was it not only when John Roger failed that I was called?! Was John Roger also – John Dee? Is John Dee everywhere? Am I nothing more than a mask? A shell? A trumpet, which sounds as the breath passes through it, but which is blown by a mouth outside, beyond. But – no matter: I experience it as present reality, and that is what it is. I must cast off this shroud of thought! A clear eye and a firm hand! I shall not repeat your mistakes, John Dee. I shall not follow you in your defeat, John Roger. I shall not let myself be deceived by earthly beings, and even less by ones from the other world. I shall know who Princess Shotokalungin is before the sun has gone full circle in the sky.
I can tell a mere messenger from One who would seal my fate – can I not, friend Lipotin?
I spent a long time staring at the facets of the black crystal but, to my disappointment I must admit, there was not a hint of the smoke, mist, cloud – not to speak of images – which are reliably reported of magic mirrors and crystals. In my hand the coal remained a piece of coal, beautifully worked and polished, but a piece of coal, nonetheless.
The thought naturally occurred to me that perhaps Jane – I mean Frau Fromm – might have the power to draw the secret from the crystal. I have just called her. She is nowhere to be found. She has gone out, it seems. I must wait patiently until she returns. – – – –
Hardly had the echo of my shouts for Frau Fromm died away, than the telephone rang: – – Lipotin! Was I likely to be in? He had something interesting to show me. – Yes, I was staying in. – Good. With that he hung up. – –
I had
