Introductory Note: This is a fanfiction sequel, based on the Dion Fortune novel Moon Magic. I do not own Dion Fortune's work and this work is not for profit.
SOMETHING ABOUT THE SUN AND THE STARS
By Paul Dunne
Chapter 1 – A Return for Morgan
Dr Robert Malcolm, had thought, the funeral of Miss Vivien Le Fay Morgan, would be the end of the curious affair with the Moon Priestess of the Black Isis. Following her death, a week later she had been interred at a crypt in Somerset. The crypt being the family tomb of her mysterious former employer. Who she had worked for long ago, before eventually moving to her converted church home in London.
Now, many months later, he found himself being driven from London, back toward Somerset, by her mysterious Undertakers. He sat behind the Undertakers, in the long black hearse. The vehicle cruised smoothly down the Great West Road.
Robert had enquired as to the purpose of the journey. The Undertakers responded by saying that they were following the very specific instructions left by Miss Morgan. When he pushed for further detail, the head Undertaker had replied.
"We are under instruction, Sir." And the man's tone made it perfectly clear that this matter was not open for further discussion.
Robert was not a man of great patience. A fiery red head, of typical red head temperament. Robert gritted his teeth hard, at the unsatisfactory response. He knew that he was on the edge of seriously loosing his temper with the Undertakers.
As the vehicle passed Stonehenge, he saw that magnificent Pagan symbol, still imposing itself rigidly upon the landscape, in this so called Christian era. Robert finally relaxed and smiled. Vivien was obviously having some last laugh at him. Playing out some bizarre funeral ritual, making him the ghoulish spectator. He remembered the woman with great fondness, they had shared some amazing times together. He as her Priest, assisting her in acting out her strange rituals and mysteries. She had, had, a profoundly transformative affect upon him. He was not the man he once was, and thank goodness for that, he thought!
An hour or so later, the hearse was twisting and turning through the windy old track roads of Somerset. They were now in Vivien's favoured county of Somerset, where she had often proclaimed lay the "Most Holy Earthe". Robert noticed the sheer glut of apples this year, growing in the cider county. He recalled Vivien cutting an apple in half one day, and holding it up and saying to him.
"The Pentagram, Robert. The 5 Rayed Star. The Symbol of Man. Eat thee of our fleshly body my Priest"
She had then lifted the apple half to his lips, like Eve, she had been re-enacting the original first temptation, symbolically reminding him of the alleged reason for the Fall of Man. He had eaten her apple half, and she had laughed devilishly and wickedly. They had both fallen around laughing at the absurdness of the moment, but afterward, back in his surgery, he had realised that she had been making a serious point. Vivien may have been lively, vivacious (as her name suggested and implied), but she had no time for silly games. Everything about Vivien was a ritual. All she did, held intent, power, and purpose. Miss Morgan had been a living ritual. A mystery.
The thoughts of his dear old friend brought his emotions to a head. Robert felt the tears welling up. He had not let himself grieve over Morgan. She would not have wanted him to. She who talked so animatedly about the One Eternal Life, in which there was no death. And also he was not a man who was good at dealing with his emotions. Robert knew that he tended to push his emotional side down hard, in order to repress his deeper feelings. In fact, that was why she had found him to be damnably good High Priest material, in the first place. He thought, yes deep down inside, he was a rather silly old fool.
The hearse drove through the gates of the country estate, where the tomb in which Vivien lay at rest was located. The sea of the Somerset and Bristol estuary could be seen from the overlooking landscape here. Robert could smell the sea, as well, and although it had a different smell to that of his local Thames, he realised that actually the smell was not radically dissimilar.
The estuary here smelled of the salt of the sea, whereas the estuary of the Thames smelled of the salt of the earth. Vivien had much in her nature that was of the salt, both the salt of the sea, and the salt of the earth.
The Undertakers stopped before the small family crypt. The Sun was nearly setting, bright red like a glass orb reflecting its light glassily due to the atmospheric reflection of the water, he supposed. A Full Moon was also rising in the sky. Why had Vivien, had him brought here on this day, at this curious time when Sun and Moon were both up, and the Autumn was setting itself deeply in.
The two Undertakers, in the front, got out of the car, and walked round to back of the vehicle. Robert got out of the car too, and lit up a cigarette, a much needed "gasper" after the long journey. He had not lit up in the car, as he hated the eye stinging smoke that smoking generated in a car. He much preferred to smoke outside, in the open air. He turned to see what the Undertakers were about.
They had the boot of the hearse open, and were pulling on the floor panelling. The metal of the floor slid back, to reveal a compartment hidden in the undercarriage of the vehicle. There, to his amazement, he saw the burial casket of - Miss Vivien Le Fay Morgan. The same casket they had interred here many months ago. His mouth fell open and agape, releasing his cigarette, which fell onto the gravel drive.
Robert walked right up to the boot, and read the inscription on the brass plate, which had been mounted on the casket. It was indeed the coffin of Miss Vivien Le Fay Morgan, with its strange inscription, suggesting that she had been returned upon the Barge to Avalon, with the Body of the Once and Future King, and sent upon the journey to the Inner Earthe.
Robert reeled in shock. What madness was this? What were the Undertakers doing?
He watched them remove and carry the coffin, as if it were as light as an empty box. They put down the coffin, with a sudden drop, before the crypt, and the senior Undertaker fumbled with the old set of medieval keys. Robert finally snapped.
"How dare you drop her like that! You ruddy imbeciles!"
The senior Undertaker smiled. Stooped down and flicked the clasp open upon the casket. Lifting the lid to reveal an empty box. Robert felt he was losing his sanity. This situation was too bizarre for words. He could not fathom, rhyme, nor reason. The Undertakers closed the casket, and took it into the crypt. Robert lit a fresh cigarette and swung round to look out across the sea.
He heard the sound of struggling, about 5 minutes later, and saw the 2 Undertakers struggling back up the steps with Miss Morgan's casket. The coffin now no longer seemed light. Eventually the two men got the casket out of the crypt, and respectfully lowered it down onto the gravel. They both bowed, made the sign of the cross, and followed this by a ritual gesture.
This time Robert stepped forward, flicked the clasp, lifted the lid. His mouth opened wide again, releasing his second half smoked cigarette, which fell onto the gravel. There in the casket, was the perfectly preserved body of Miss Vivien Le Fay Morgan. The interior of the casket was lead lined, no doubt – he thought – accounting for her perfect preservation. She looked as young, fresh and beautiful in death, as she had done in her former fleshly life.
He closed the casket and flicked locked the catch. He now knew he needed a full cigarette, so he lit one up. The Undertakers busied themselves lifting the casket into the secret hearse compartment, and then in replacing the secret cover. Robert smiled dryly, thinking the sealed compartment proved what he had once thought, that some Undertakers re-used their coffins. Then he realised that actually, in this case, it did not make much sense, as Undertakers might reuse coffins, but they always dispose of the dead. So why on earth would they be taking Vivien back again. He put out his cigarette and went back to the waiting car and got in.
Robert again attempted to ask the Undertakers what this situation was about, but the senior Undertaker pre-empted him by saying:
"Sir – Please. Just don't ask. Just really please don't ask!" So Robert bit his lip as the car drove away across the West Country Estate.
The hearse pulled up outside of the large manor house. A stately home which looked hauntingly gothic in the light of the rising Full Moon. Robert and the Undertakers got out of the car, and walked up the steps of this great house. The chief Undertaker rang the doorbell and the door was quickly answered by a mousy looking servant girl, who said:
"His Lordship is expecting you sirs." With that a large, but elderly military looking figure stormed across the hallway to meet them.
The senior Undertaker said.
"General Masson! Sir! Lord!" And Robert laughed and grimaced at the undertakers lack of decorum for addressing a senior military officer with a privileged hereditary title. Robert stepped forward to shake Lord Mason's hand. A large hand came up, upon which sparkled a large gold ring, which Robert noted was symbolic of the Rosicrucian Orders.
Lord Masson shook his hand in a very tight martial grip, pressing a certain hand digit in such a way that told Robert that Lord Masson was a Masson by name and by Office. Lord Masson rasped.
"Don't just stand there! Bring our Most High and Honoured guest in to my house."
Robert glowed with pleasure at being shown such deep and sincere respect, until he realised that Lord Mason meant the remains of Miss Vivien Le Fay Morgan were the guest that Lord Masson was referring to, and not himself. Robert stood back as the two Undertakers lurched past unevenly, carrying the burial casket of Miss Vivien Le Fay Morgan.
Two servants opened a door at the end of the hall, in order to admit the mousey, young servant girl, the Undertakers and the casket bearing Miss Vivien Le Fay Morgan. The casket was set upon a long, raised altar, which glowed in the light of the Full Moon. Robert realised that he was supernumerary to the events taking place here. Whatever Vivien had planned, he was simply a spectator of this strange "Dance Macabre". Vivien was dead, yet even in her death state, she was leading him a strange dance, with her queer rituals and decidedly odd games.
Robert was grateful when the doors were slammed shut on the temporary mortuary chapel, and he was being beckoned by the funny little mousey servant girl, to follow her toward his room for the night. The girl told him that dinner would be at 8pm, but he fell asleep and missed the meal. He was seemingly such an insignificant guest, that no one thought to come and wake him up for dinner.
Robert awoke at dawn to see the Sun arising for the day, and the Full Moon still riding high in a different part of the twilight sky. He felt ravenously hungry and decided to wash, dress, and go to seek sustenance. Better still, he wanted an explanation for how, and why he, and also Vivien, had been treated in this most very peculiarly strange way.
Robert went down to breakfast and found the main dining room. The breakfast table had been set for up to seven people. He sat at the table and waited. He could smell kippers poaching and a full English breakfast being prepared. Lord Masson walked into the room and joined him at the table.
"Good morning Dr Malcolm. I trust you slept well." Rupert agreed that he had indeed slept very well and deeply. Lord Masson replied, "It is the Somerset air, Dr. Guests usually seem to sleep well here." And Lord Masson looked deep, distant and thoughtful as he said this. Rupert assumed he was referring cryptically to Vivien, and that there was something of a double meaning being implied. Rupert, never being a patient man, decided to tackle his host with a more direct line of questioning.
"Now look here, Lord Masson! What is this confoundedly queer business that is going on with Vivien?" Lord Masson rolled his eyes, as if listening to some distant form of inner planes guidance. Then Lord Masson replied to his question, in a polite, but curious tone.
"Miss Vivien Le Fay Morgan, Dr Malcolm, is sleeping in my chapel. She is to be returned to a Thames side house, in London, near London Bridge. Where certain arrangements have been made for the longer internment of her presently sleeping body. She has requested that you remain with her, until the time of her awakening." Rupert's mouth dropped open, wide agasp.
"Are you implying, Lord Masson, that Vivien is not dead?" Rupert asked. Lord Masson again rolled his eyes thoughtfully, before replying.
"Dr Malcolm. She is perfectly and very much that – dead, I mean. And have you forgotten that you yourself signed her Death Certificate? Miss Vivien Le Fay Morgan, is dead. Absolutely dead. You have been left these instructions to follow, and she says you must follow them to the letter."
Lord Masson plucked an envelope from his inner suit pocket, and a set of door keys which had the Thames side, London Bridge address upon a tag. The writing, on the tag and the envelope, was the strange flowing and flowery handwriting of Miss Vivien Le Fay Morgan. Robert accepted the envelope and keys, eyeing them thoughtfully. Lord Masson spoke again.
"The Undertakers will, this morning, take Miss Vivien Le Fay Morgan, and yourself to the London address, and will assist you with bringing her discreetly in via the rear of the house. There they will assist you with ……………. what needs to be done. The instructions are in your hand, and they are to be followed to the letter. All will become clear to you in time, Dr Malcolm. All in good time. As my late wife used to say, patience is a virtue, possess it if you can, seldom in a woman, but never in a man."
The two men that ate breakfast together in silence. It seemed that all that would be said in this odd affair, had been said. Robert now felt resigned in this matter. Whatever the last and final wishes of Miss Vivien Le Fay Morgan were, he would ensure they were followed through. He felt he owed her that. Also his curiosity had gotten the better of him. He not only desired to serve Vivien, but he also needed to know what was really going on here. The answers, he felt, would be found once they were back in London.