July 2000
And Simon Magus does his fall again. I've been waiting to see it since I was here at Autun first, so many years ago. His four wings trail loose, streaming upwards, only just attached to his elbows and knees. His arms and legs flail and his fists clench. His scream opens a hole half as big as his head and his eyes pop out. Peter and Paul, tall and lissom, stand aside and stoop interestedly forward as Simon crashes down past them, howling. Peter holds up the enormous key to the Gates of Heaven like a flag over them, as a reminder that he has it and Simon does not. Balancing them, on the other side, is the demon, seated, hands open with palms outwards, fingers downwards, and laid on his knees, with a 'Down you go!' ushering gesture, and with a huge rubber grin, his tongue writhing out between his square, bared teeth, his quiff wriggling between his long, ibex horns and raised ears, his three toed, clawed feet making the bottom corner of the capital, to match the feet of Peter on the other side which are braced, sloping, as Peter recoils somewhat, on the steep little steps of beaded stonework on the edge of the abyss. Behind Peter, Paul stands higher, pressed against Peter's back, looking down and over his halo. His right hand is cupping his chin and his left pressed down on the crown of his head. He is holding his ...