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craping and a smell of sulphur。
Sabat heard the roar of flames； the crackling of kindling wood； the leaden door was slammed shut。 Now the group were turning round； those faces no longer expressionless； eyes that burned with a hidden lust staring at the boy who was beginning to stir。 Nobody took any notice of Sabat。 He was a spectator； nothing else。
The mongol raised his head； wheezed as a gust of smoke from the old cooker engulfed him。 Eyes wide with a terror which he did not understand； cringing。 Thick lips moved and gave off inarticulate sounds。 Thank God； Sabat thought； he doesn't understand。 He knows they're going to do something unpleasant to him but mercifully they will kill him quickly。 It will be all over any second。
The candles were burning steadily； casting an eerie circle of yellow light fringed by shadows and moving shapes。 The flames inside the stove were roaring； hungrily devouring the dry wood； splitting the lumps of coal。 But it would take time for the oven temperature to rise。 Sabat was mentally yelling； 'Kill him！ For fuck's sake kill him and put him out of his misery！'
Schmid stepped forward； a sinister black priest in full regalia。 He stretched out a flabby white hand； grabbed a tussock of unruly red hair and jerked the mongol's head back。 A strangled cry。 That cut was still bleeding。 Then silence。
Even Sabat could feel the full impact of that hypnotism； the child an easy victim； mouth wide； nodding his agreement to something he did not understand。 And when Andre Schmid released him the boy smiled； a stretching of gargantuan lips exposing wide； misplaced teeth。
An order which Sabat did not catch。 The mongol nodded； grunted； began clumsily to unfasten buttons； exposing a roll of surplus flesh around his waist； a body that was so badly proportioned that you only realised the full extent of its deformity when it was unclothed。 Giggling； inhibited even under hypnotism； hands splayed across the lower regions in a protective shield。
The pany retreated into the shadows； left Schmid alone in the circle of candlelight； a cloaked figure murmuring some whispered incantation。
Sabat wanted to cross himself but his hands refused to obey his brain； had him wincing with a feeling of guilt The Left Hand Path had no mercy on traitors！ Instead he found himself offering up an apology to the powers of darkness。 He would renounce his vows； his faith。 He would partake in this ceremony because he was one of the followers of darkness。
Time became meaningless。 Schmid's tone was an incessant drone； alternating between humility and arrogance。 Minutes； hours； it was impossible to tell。
Then Andre Schmid was moving forward； fumbling with the latch on the oven door； throwing it wide so that a blast of heat like the breath from some fiery dragon cut across the chapel； had the others reeling。 Except the boy； he was standing now； a pathetic ungainly figure。 He grinned； grunted something。
Schmid was towering above him； a giant by parison； pointing towards the oven with a stubby forefinger。 'Get in there； child？
There was no hesitation from the mongol。 A step forward； then another； almost an eagerness about his movements now。 Lurching； bending to peer into the dark cubicle； screwing up his features in puzzlement。
'Get in there； child！'
Sabat caught his breath； his own fingers seeming to shrivel with the heat as he watched the bizarre scene by the 'altar*。 No cry of pain from the mongol； just a hissing of scorched skin。 Clambering awkwardly； falling back because he was not agile enough to get into the confined space； hauling himself up and trying again。
This time he made it； hunching himself； squashing his frame against the red hot side of the oven； looking out with an imbecilic grin on his face as though seeking approval…and getting it。 'Good！' Schmid grunted。 'You serve a worthy cause； child！'
The demonic priest's foot went up and back； drove down catching the open door with the flat of his shoe； slamming it back。 It bounced off the latch； he kicked it again and this time it closed and held。
Silence。 Sabat was sweating； revolted but in a way approving because he was one of them。 Looking around； seeing a dozen or more expressionless faces staring at the closed oven door。 Not a sign of revulsion on any of them； he wondered what his own expression was。 They were either junkies or the victims of Schmid's hypnotism。 Sabat was different…he was possessed！
'The Master will be well pleased；' Andre Schmid's tones were hollow； echoing in the tiny chapel。 'Now； let us do what he would wish us to do whilst we wait。 Brothers and sisters； tonight we shall feast sumptuously； I promise you！'
The group seemed to e to life； puppets which had lain idle suddenly finding their strings being operated； moving jerkily； feverishly tearing off their clothes。 The ugly and the beautiful； all naked together； grasping for one another with lusting； searching fingers。
'Don't say you're not going to join us； Sabat。' Mocking female tones that came out of the shadows and； even as he looked； Sabat saw the naked form of Madeleine Gaufridi materialising； a sensuous female cat…beast stalking its prey。
His flesh began to prickle as her slender fingers flipped buttons； her pouted lips brushing his and jerking back like a marshland will…o'…the…wisp as he tried to engage them。 He knew that he was already fully aroused； that he would do anything she asked of him and enjoy every second of it。 His clothing fell away； every nerve in his body trembling with the thought of what lay ahead。
'You will obey my every mand tonight； Sabat！' A hiss that came from a face that was half in shadow； a she…devil spitting her venom； laughing。 He thrilled to her domination； half…cringed； and even as he reached for her she sank limply to the ground； rolling over on to her back and splaying her legs wide。 'Kiss me； Sabat！'
He crawled after her on hands and knees； fumbled to find her soft； warm moistness with his eager jabbing tongue； thrilled to her shrill squeal of delight； a sound that was taken up all around as though the half…dozen cavorting couples had been awaiting her signal。 Men were grunting； whispering their profanities。 And throughout； Sabat was hunched down obeying her mands； he was powerless to do otherwise。 He was the slave of Madeleine de Demandolx de la Palud and her lust had blinded him to all else； he smelled only the sweetness of her natural odours and not the acrid stench of burning flesh。 He heard a muffled cry of agony； screams； and a beating of fists somewhere； but they meant nothing to him。
She reached her pitch； closed over him in a suffocating； writhing grip； but still he kissed her furiously because she had ordered him to do so； buried in a dark pit where nothing else mattered。
He fell on to her when she went limp and trembling； did not even cry out when her knee crashed into his face and sent him sprawling； rising to his knees； whispering his willingness to obey。
'You want me tonight don't you； Sabat？' Her lips curled in a sneer and he nodded his mute pleading。 'Well； you shall not have me。 Show me； show us all； what you do when you are denied a woman！'
Coarse laughter but he had no pride left。 'Show us； Sabat！'
Jibes that only urged him on； a strong man weakened by a lust that was not his own； kneeling in a circle of candlelight； his body trembling as he began to obey。 Screams somewhere that were getting weaker and weaker and finally dying out； a nauseating stench that he breathed in without knowing it。
Exploding； trying to make out Madeleine Gaufridi's face amongst the pressing throng as he writhed on the floor。 Laughing with them now； exhilarated by the humiliation。
'On your feet； Sabat！' A booted foot caught him in the ribs； expelled the air from his body in one lung…searing rush； had him crying out with pain。 'On your feet； cochon； for tonight you serve not only us but the Grand Master of the Left Hand Path。 Our food is cooked。 You will carve the meat？
Euphoria was replaced by revulsion but still Sabat was eager to serve。 He managed to stand； swayed dizzily and waited for his vision to adjust； saw a blur of movement in the light from the candles and felt that blast of heat scorching and drying his sweating flesh again。 They were pushing him； hustling him to where an almost unrecognisable object sizzled and smoked on a large black dish on the trestle table。 Unrecognisable unless you knew what it was！
A carving knife and a skewer were pushed into Sabat's hands； one of the candles had been set on the table so that he could see。 The shape on the gigantic dish was charred and smoking； deformed limbs trussed。
'Carve the Master's sacred meat； Sabat。' A chant； an order。
The blade in Sabat's hand glinted； he noticed a dull patch on the sharp steel where it appeared to have rusted。
'Hurry； Sabat。' Madeleine had pushed close to him。 'It has been a long； strenuous evening and we are hungry！'
He reacted automati