The Gospel of Sheba Read Free

the one man who suffers no ill effects from it.”
    A numismatist, perhaps, would have absorbed this madness with aplomb and returned to the study of the lyrical golden images stamped upon the coinage of the Parisii. I am not a numismatist, however, and thus closed the volume on Celtic coinage and begged Mr. Grange to tell me more. The poor man seemed eager to unburden himself. He shifted in his chair, darting glances along the sparsely populated reading room as if he feared being overheard.
    â€œIt’s been two months since I joined the Brotherhood of Solomon,” he murmured. “An acquaintance of mine, a Mr. Cornelius Pyatt, recommended it to me as a worthy hobby—one followed by men of intellect and character and means. I attended a meeting and found the company and the wine cellar both to my liking, and the subject to be of considerable interest. Are you familiar with the types of ceremonial magic? I confess I was not, and have since grown quite obsessed, sir.”
    â€œSomewhat familiar,” I owned, wiping my half-spectacles upon my sleeve. “Spellcasting is divided in the broadest sense into white magic and black magic, which differ less in execution than in intention. White magic attempts to summon good spirits, and to a good purpose—black magic evil spirits, and to a wicked purpose. Other categorical distinctions are regional, of course. One would find different instructions in a text of Parisian diabolism than in the Hebrew Kabalah, but all are paths to mastery of the spirit realm. Or so they claim.”
    â€œJust so!” he approved. “Just so, sir, and the Brotherhood of Solomon’s express purpose is to explore the sacred mysteries recorded by the legendarily wise Biblical King Solomon.”
    A less than comfortable thrill wormed its way through my belly. “You should study S. Liddell Mathers’ eighteen eighty-eight English translation of The Key of Solomon the King , in that case. I read it with interest when I was at university.”
    â€œDid you indeed? Wonderful! What drew you to it?”
    â€œI felt I needed to see for myself what the fuss was about, probably because all types of knowledge interest me and that one seemed marvelously forbidden. I’m sorry to tell you I didn’t find much sense in it.”
    The Key of Solomon the King is the monarch of all the grimoires, the eldest surviving copies dating from the Italian Renaissance, though its purported author was the great Hebrew ruler himself. The Latin codex translated by Mathers resides at the British Museum. It’s full of orations, conjurations, invocations, and recitations, some of them for the purpose of summoning spirits and others for tricking one’s enemies or for finding lost objects. I never went so far as to write anything out in bat’s blood, but I do recall, as a more than half-humourous experiment, searching for a lost penknife by means of reciting:
    O Almighty Father and Lord, Who regardest the Heavens, the Earth, and the Abyss, mercifully grant unto me by Thy Holy Name written with four letters, YOD, HE, VAU, HE, that by this exorcism I may obtain virtue, Thou Who art IAH, IAH, IAH, grant that by Thy power these Spirits may discover that which we require and which we hope to find, and may they show and declare unto us the persons who have committed the theft, and where they are to be found.
    The penknife never turned up, but I felt suitably irreligious afterward that despite owning no very strong godly passions, I plunged myself into a study of the early Christian martyrs until I felt that some balance had been restored to my soul. And Lettie, upon being told the tale when we were courting, had a heartily fond laugh over my foolishness.
    â€œThe Brotherhood of Solomon revere his teachings above all others.” Mr. Grange loosened his necktie. He seemed feverish, a bright red flush adorning his cheeks. “We’ve all been thrown into such disarray since