Jim took the device from his head. A shaft of light momentarily burst through a doorway and the sudden bright illumination held an attraction for him; he walked onto a landing carpeted in green. Opposite was a lift. Anxious to escape his confinememt, Jim entered the elevator and the doors closed. The journey became interminably long. He was shut in a space that, having forced him onto his knees for a moment, seemed after a while not to be moving at all. Alongside a feeling of elation at the thought of a serious ascent, Jim began to have to combat a growing suspician that the lift had stopped moving altogether and that he was stationary, suspended in a cage above an abyss whose depth he had no way of knowing; sustained only by his own thoughts. In the silence, his fears began to grow, nurtured by the incalculable height he might now have ascended, and might still have further to climb, an unknowable distance, interminable and yet unchanging, stationary and yet moving, at a speed he could not begin to guess at.
The walls of the lift were plain and metallic.
The ancient history of the land above him was not known with any certainty. Many old writings had been found preserved in the desert regions, Jim knew, but their language was difficult to read and when translations were made, the meaning was still far from clear. Many ancient towns had been discovered, and on the plains of Asphodel an Oligocene city had been discovered preserved beneath the thirty-million-year-old sediments of a lake. This city must certainly have been prosperous on the shore of this lake, thirty million years ago. But history is inextricably linked to geography, he knew, and beyond the plains above him lay still further plains whose extent was unknowable, and the legend had long been told that somewhere beyond the unknowable lies a plain that is identical to our own, except for one, single feature. And if we were to be transported, magically, to this place, we would soon suppose that our memory of this feature was at fault and accept, as others would insist, that we had not travelled at all.
Jim suddenly felt that he was about to rise off the floor. Then he fell heavily to his feet and the doors opened.
The tunnel was cramped and the guards stank and would not let him drink from the jug, although his thirst was becoming very great. He emerged into a space with stone walls and a roof that enclosed him tightly. At one end were shelves, each containing a jar, and he could see that these receptacles continued beyond a bend of a nearby passage. Despite the half light, he could see what these jars must contain. Jim was invited to spit onto an empty space on the shelf, as if in some grotesque celebration of the pleasure that would in some way ensue from a juxtaposition of wet spittle and his hot ashes that would shortly be thrown upon it. But, in just response to this cruel request, his mouth could produce no saliva. He was led through a passage towards the brilliant light that shone into the entranceway.
Once outside, Jim could see the size of the crowd that had gathered outside the tunnel into the cliffs, as though into a rock-cut tomb.
'The sacrifice has returned from the Otherworld and will tell what he has seen,' intoned a voice. Jim remained silent, trying to take in something that seemed at once so new and yet so sickeningly familiar. He stood before a fallen tree that crowned the top of an immense bonfire. Within the branches and brush wood was an osier frame.
'Have you spoken with the goddess Ariadne?'
Jim had to think and could only answer truthfully. 'Yes,' he answered, and a great cheer arose from the crowd. But in this moment Jim became agonisingly aware that he had lost Ariadne forever. He had surely fallen beneath the reality in which she existed.
'Was the land expansive, as green and fertile as this land is, and was it as beautiful?'
'Yes,' he answered, truthfully and bitterly. Another cheer arose.
'Do you see!' said the voice, turning now and addressing the crowd, 'that the land beneath this valley is no different from our own.' A murmur of awe passed round the assembly.
'Now that the sacrifice has seen the extent and the beauty of the place to which we will all return, and from which we will all return, he will offer no complaint that his soul must once more retreat to this country and, with the love that he now has, empower the hand of Ariadne, enliven her womb with his seed, that their union will strengthen our own land and cause our calves to flourish and our children to grow strong.'
But with another sickening twist in his stomach, Jim knew that he could not return. He had broken his connection with all that that world contained. He did not know what lay beneath the level of this world into which he had emerged.
A figure approached him and as she removed the hood of her gown, Jim could see that it was Hermione. In her hand was a pot of ashes. For a joyful but ridiculous moment he imagined that this might be a surrogate to place upon the shelf, and that this whole ceremony was a joke. He tried to move, but suddenly, four strong hands gripped his shoulders and his arms, and led him towards the bonfire.
'No!' he cried. He looked towards Hermione in hope and confusion.
'Hermione! No!'
Jim screamed with fear as he tested the strength of the wicker cage that held him, knowing what was about to happen; but the bars would not yield. And then a strange stillness came over him. He saw a doubt pass over Hermione's face as she paused to add red hot embers to the kindling at the base of the bonfire. Calling her name again, Jim saw her hesitation lengthen, and she looked up at him. Then, with a smile, she blew once more upon the hot charcoal embers and turned them out onto the kindling below his feet.
·
The Testimony of Theseus
I have awoken to find myself in a low but wide space, lit by the steady glow of a thousand coloured lights. Only slowly does my memory return. I cannot say that I remember the agony of the flames; I remember only the choking nausea of the smoke. Beside me, its blade resting upon a carpet whose pile gives little clue to its colour in this dim light, is the Axe of the Covenant. Beside it is a spindle overflowing with thread. I must return through the tunnels to the Temple Mansion. But, sickening thought, I have already come to the end of the thread. I have pulled the thread down behind me! Through an open door I can see the tunnel through which, having rested for a while, I must retrace my steps as best I can, back to the Temple Mansion..
There is writing on a column beside me and I see that I can read it. It says -
'- tha - t - whi - ch - i - s - a - bo - v -
'- i - s - li - k -
'- tha - t - whi - ch - i - s - b - lo -'
'Below. How curious to see this word. I remember it clearly, as though I had read it only recently. But now an idea comes into my head. I don't know why I didn't think of it at once! Ariadne showed me how to let the thread lead me towards the thing she wished me to find. Then why not herself? Why should I not use the thread to find my way back to Ariadne in the same way that I used it to find my way into the centre of this labyrinth? Look! I pick up the spindle and begin to lay the thread behind me. 'Lead me to Ariadne!' I command. I wonder that this idea didn't come to me before.'