Fabian Fortin climbed the stairs of the building in Chartres where he rented the upper hall for the weekly meetings of the Order of the Gate. Beethoven’s ‘Fur Elise’ was being played in the hall below. He shook his head and thought Ludwig would be turning in his grave if he was listening.
The evening sun, which shone through large gothic arched windows, illuminated the hall. The white plaster walls dropped from a roof supported by oak beams until they reached a pine paneled dado. Fortin greeted the other members as he pulled his habit from a canvas bag. He put the robe on and then helped to set up the wooden altar and draw a chalk circle around which the members now assembled.
“Welcome brethren of the Order of the Gate,” he boomed.
“This week’s meeting is held in the shadow of great darkness, for as you know the dogs of war howl outside our doors.”
“We must ask the great Goddess: the opener of the gate, for her wisdom.”
Fortin then began the gate mantra, which the other members repeated.
The chanting became louder and faster until Fortin stepped into the centre of the circle.
“All gathered here will remain true to our cause,” he said, in an otherworldly voice. He scanned every member of the group with flame red eyes. “Your selection as members was not random. Your souls have been waiting for this time and will wait for the glorious future event. What is going to happen in the physical world will not detract us from our ultimate cause.”
Silence then descended on the meeting as Fortin took his place back in the circle.
The chanting then began again until a brother handed out goblets of wine.
“The Goddess has spoken, now let’s drink to her – to the Goddess,” said Fortin as he raised his drink.
“To the Goddess,” said the group, before they drank the wine.