be.
“You are a pragmatist, captain,” said Lucifer casually, “in your very bones. To your very soul, one might say.”
My voice seemed fainter than was normal. There was a slight echo to it, I thought. “Do you see my soul, Your Majesty?”
He linked His arm in mine and we began to walk across the plain.
“I am familiar with it, captain.”
I knew no fear at this statement, whereas on Earth I should have shuddered at least a little. Although aware of Lucifer’s presence, my body was now neither corporeal nor ethereal, but somewhere between the two. Emotions which should have been strong in me were presently only hinted at; my brain seemed clearer, but that in itself could have been an illusion; my movements were slow and deliberate, yet they followed my thoughts well enough.
This state of being was not uncongenial, and I wondered if it might be the usual condition of angels and the more powerful orders of supernatural entities.
It did not strike me as strange, as I strolled through Hell, side by side with Lucifer, that I had begun to think in terms of spiritual creatures, of realms beyond my earthly world, when, for many years, I had refused to believe in anything but the most substantial and material of phenomena.
Flesh and blood—predominantly the preservation of my own—had been my only reality since my early days of soldiering. My mind and my senses had become blunted, almost certainly, but blunted sensibilities were the only kind one could safely have in the life I led. And the life I led was the only sane one in the world in which I had found myself.
Now, of a sudden, I was not only discovering a return of all my subtlest sensibilities, but exploring sensations—illusory or not—normally denied the bulk of humanity.
It was no wonder that my judgment was confused. Even though I allowed for this, I could not help but be affected. I fought to remember that I must make no pact with Lucifer, that I must agree to nothing, that no matter how tempting any offer He made I must play for time. For not only my life could be at stake, my fate for all Eternity could be the issue.
Lucifer seemed to be trying to console me. “I have given my word to you,” He reminded me, “and I shall keep it.”
An archway of silvery flames appeared immediately before us. Lucifer drew me towards it.
This time I did not hesitate, but entered the archway and found myself in a city.
The city was of black obsidian stone. Every surface, every wall, every canopy and every flag were black and gleamed. The folk of the city wore clothes of rich, dark colours—of scarlet and deep blue, of bloody orange and moss green—and their skins were the colour of old, polished oak.
“This city exists in Hell?” I asked.
“It is one of the chief cities of Hell,” replied Lucifer.
As we passed, the people knelt immediately to the ground and made obeisance to their Lord.
“They recognize you,” I said.
“Oh, indeed.”
The city seemed rich and the people seemed healthy.
“Hell is a punishment, surely?” I said. “Yet these people are not evidently suffering.”
“They are suffering,” said Lucifer. “It is their specific fate. You saw how swiftly they knelt to me.”
“Aye.”
“They are all my slaves. They are none of them free.”
“Doubtless they were not free on Earth.”
“True. But they know that they would be free in Heaven. Their chief misery is simply that they know they are in Hell for all Eternity. It is that knowledge, in itself, which is their punishment.”
“What is freedom in Heaven?” I asked.
“In Hell you become what you fear yourself to be. In Heaven you may become what you hope yourself to be,” said Lucifer.
I had expected a more profound reply, or at least a more complicated one.
“A mild enough punishment, compared to what Luther threatened,” I observed.
“Apparently. And far less interesting than Luther’s torments, as he would tell you himself. There is nothing very
“You are a pragmatist, captain,” said Lucifer casually, “in your very bones. To your very soul, one might say.”
My voice seemed fainter than was normal. There was a slight echo to it, I thought. “Do you see my soul, Your Majesty?”
He linked His arm in mine and we began to walk across the plain.
“I am familiar with it, captain.”
I knew no fear at this statement, whereas on Earth I should have shuddered at least a little. Although aware of Lucifer’s presence, my body was now neither corporeal nor ethereal, but somewhere between the two. Emotions which should have been strong in me were presently only hinted at; my brain seemed clearer, but that in itself could have been an illusion; my movements were slow and deliberate, yet they followed my thoughts well enough.
This state of being was not uncongenial, and I wondered if it might be the usual condition of angels and the more powerful orders of supernatural entities.
It did not strike me as strange, as I strolled through Hell, side by side with Lucifer, that I had begun to think in terms of spiritual creatures, of realms beyond my earthly world, when, for many years, I had refused to believe in anything but the most substantial and material of phenomena.
Flesh and blood—predominantly the preservation of my own—had been my only reality since my early days of soldiering. My mind and my senses had become blunted, almost certainly, but blunted sensibilities were the only kind one could safely have in the life I led. And the life I led was the only sane one in the world in which I had found myself.
Now, of a sudden, I was not only discovering a return of all my subtlest sensibilities, but exploring sensations—illusory or not—normally denied the bulk of humanity.
It was no wonder that my judgment was confused. Even though I allowed for this, I could not help but be affected. I fought to remember that I must make no pact with Lucifer, that I must agree to nothing, that no matter how tempting any offer He made I must play for time. For not only my life could be at stake, my fate for all Eternity could be the issue.
Lucifer seemed to be trying to console me. “I have given my word to you,” He reminded me, “and I shall keep it.”
An archway of silvery flames appeared immediately before us. Lucifer drew me towards it.
This time I did not hesitate, but entered the archway and found myself in a city.
The city was of black obsidian stone. Every surface, every wall, every canopy and every flag were black and gleamed. The folk of the city wore clothes of rich, dark colours—of scarlet and deep blue, of bloody orange and moss green—and their skins were the colour of old, polished oak.
“This city exists in Hell?” I asked.
“It is one of the chief cities of Hell,” replied Lucifer.
As we passed, the people knelt immediately to the ground and made obeisance to their Lord.
“They recognize you,” I said.
“Oh, indeed.”
The city seemed rich and the people seemed healthy.
“Hell is a punishment, surely?” I said. “Yet these people are not evidently suffering.”
“They are suffering,” said Lucifer. “It is their specific fate. You saw how swiftly they knelt to me.”
“Aye.”
“They are all my slaves. They are none of them free.”
“Doubtless they were not free on Earth.”
“True. But they know that they would be free in Heaven. Their chief misery is simply that they know they are in Hell for all Eternity. It is that knowledge, in itself, which is their punishment.”
“What is freedom in Heaven?” I asked.
“In Hell you become what you fear yourself to be. In Heaven you may become what you hope yourself to be,” said Lucifer.
I had expected a more profound reply, or at least a more complicated one.
“A mild enough punishment, compared to what Luther threatened,” I observed.
“Apparently. And far less interesting than Luther’s torments, as he would tell you himself. There is nothing very
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