"Come on," the Crocodile Queen insisted, "we're all getting wet, follow me," they ran towards the entrance of the library. Ally noticed a statue of a lion, but the rain was coming down so hard, she hardly noticed the details of the sculpture or the fact it had a twin located on the other side of the steps. Everything was happening so quickly, Ally still felt a little light headed. She followed Dan into the building, hanging back a little, unsure of what to expect and what they would do next. They approached an oak desk at the reception, adorned with a stern looking woman, wearing half cut glasses and a crisp white blouse seated at the front reception desk. The Crocodile Queen approached first, flashing a broad smile, keeping her voice low, she whispered, "Good afternoon, we'd like to do some research on antiquities, and was wondering where we could find Ethel MacDonald for some assistance?"
The receptionist raised her eyes above her glasses, as if irritated by the interruption; unfazed, the Crocodile Queen continued to flash the most dazzling of smile, "If you want to do research on antiquities, then I suggest that you work with Mrs. Harmond, you'll find her in the west side, second floor, she'll be able to help you find what you're looking for," with that, they were summarily dismissed by the lowering of her old lifeless eyes, back to the book that she appeared to be more interested in reading.
The Crocodile Queen cleared her throat, causing the startled and slightly annoyed woman to raise her eyes for a second time, "We'd like to know where we can find Mrs. Ethel MacDonald please, Ethel?" Her tone was more direct this time, unyielding, and clearly sent a ‘don't mess with me’ message.
Ally felt uncomfortable, but the woman knew better, she backed down right away, "Why of course," she said sarcastically, "you’ll find Mrs. MacDonald on the third floor, east wing, inside the antiquities section. She always wears the same type of sweater, it's not hard to miss the old dear, good luck," she said, clearly using different words than her thoughts.
"Third floor, east wing - why thank you, you've been so helpful," whispered the Crocodile Queen with that beautiful sarcastic smile. Ally smiled too, at the masterful way the grumpy old bag was not allowed to get the last word. The receptionist was a surly old bitter woman, but she’d no idea how old and experienced the smiling young woman who stood before her was, it was never going to be a fair contest.
The Crocodile Queen turned to Ally and Dan, she whispered quietly by mouthing the words, "Let's go," before turning to head up the stairs. Libraries were never Dan's favorite place, even though he’d first met Ally in a library, the assumed quietness made him feel restricted, and he always had the urge to yell and shout at the top of his lungs, to break the unbearable weight of the silence. He could hear faint whispers, inaudible conversations. This type of whispered conversation usually meant that people were talking about him; it meant he would be moving again, on to another foster home. Anytime people whispered in conversations near him, it meant a bad change was soon to follow, and he couldn't shake that feeling.
Before they knew it, they were bounding onto the third floor, following the Crocodile Queen through the sections of tall shelves, all stacked with books of different sizes, books bound with interesting spines ranging in thickness. This section was practically empty and had many unoccupied research tables used to spread the books out while reading them. In the far corner a movement caught Ally's eye, "There," she pointed, and whispered. It was dark inside the library, a small amount of soft yellow light bled through the tall shelves stacked with musty smelling books. Dust particles could be seen suspended in the small shafts of light that invaded the room. Ally liked the smell it was the smell of old parchment mingled with a lady’s perfume, for some reason, she felt safe and secure. In a corner of the room, an elderly lady was dressed in a drab black woolen skirt, an ill-fitting powder blue sweater, and sensible black shoes, with her long silver streaked hair pinned neatly up in a bun. She wore gold colored metal rimmed glasses, attached to a safety chain hanging around her neck. She pushed a metal cart fitted with small wheels, she positioned it at the end of an unoccupied aisle, and she reached into the cart, and retrieved a book. She studied its label, replacing the book in its correct location high upon a dusty shelf. That must be her, thought Ally, Mrs. MacDonald.
The Crocodile Queen moved confidently in her direction with Ally and Dan following, "Hello," she whispered, flashing that disarming smile again, "are you Mrs. MacDonald?"
"Yes dear," she countered, offering a slightly less confident, and somewhat confused smile in return, "how can I help you dear?"
"I’d like to," the Crocodile Queen stopped abruptly, she turned her body to allow Ethel, a frail old lady, an opportunity to see Ally and Dan, "we’d like to, talk with you about something we're researching, but is there somewhere where its more acceptable for us to talk?" she whispered quietly, her voice trailing off to a point where Ethel had to strain to hear her.
"Of course, dear, follow me," without hesitation Ethel shuffled her way past the book cart abandoning it at the end of the aisle; she walked slowly towards the center of the library building. She moved towards a small room with false partitioned walls, they saw a dirty worn wooden door sporting a cheap black sign with large white letters announcing the word, ‘Private’. She fumbled with some keys before pushing the door open and inviting them to follow her. Ally glanced at the Crocodile Queen who gestured to follow her, Ally proceeded first, followed by Dan with the Crocodile Queen bringing up the rear. Once inside they saw a square room, dimly lit by one exposed light bulb illuminating a small square table with four chairs surrounding it. It was plain, functional and private, the Crocodile Queen closed the door as Ethel took a seat. "What would you like to talk to me about dear?" she said calmly.
"We understand that you’re an expert on Merlin, … Myrddin?" she said, trying to indicate a level of sophistication on the subject, "we're all fascinated by him, and we want to ask you some questions, perhaps tap into your expertise.
Ethel was a lonely person, if she were to be honest, she'd been feeling quite ill for about three months, but she'd never complain, she would never miss an opportunity to work a day at the library. Ethel loved books and she loved reading more than anything else, it was the only source of joy in her life, her true escape. She knew her days on this Earth were numbered, her job provided her an escape from her spinster life, a connection with people and the real world, and she also needed the money. It was four years ago that anyone last asked for help, visitors wouldn’t even see her, she often felt as if she worked within an invisible bubble, where nobody could see her. She knew talking at the library was discouraged, but it was rare to receive an acknowledging nod, a smile, or even a glance or gesture, she would work a full day without saying or receiving a word.
At first, she found it to be peaceful, but later, after her husband Percy had died of pneumonia, she became desperately lonely. She often thought it was a cruel twist of fate, preordained to keep her in a restrained life of solitude. She grew to hate the library, but she loved it dearly, like an addict would with their favorite drug - an addiction.
A rare and fleeting chance to enter the consultation room, and to talk with real people about a subject she knew copious amounts of knowledge about, was indeed a chance too good to turn down, "What would you like to know?" Before they could answer, Ethel fired off another question, "Are you all related?"
"Yes, I'm so sorry, how rude of us," the Crocodile Queen explained, "I'm Beth," she lied so convincingly, "and this is my sister Lauren, and my brother David."
"I see, welcome - I'm Ethel MacDonald, you can call me Ethel, all of my friends do," Ethel's ability to lie was considerably less convincing.
"Great! We're very interested in learning about Myrddin, we know a little about his history and the stories of him going mad, isolated in the forest, but what we'd like to learn more about is his necklace, we'd love to hear what you can tell us about him. We’ve been told that you had the best knowledge about Myrddin in the city and that you had a particular fascination with this
man, as do we.” The Crocodile Queen looked anxious, uncertain if Ethel would share information or offer any help. She may react poorly to this type of question and be deeply offended.
She was neither, and countered the question with a question, "I'm curious, how do you know about the necklace?"
The Crocodile Queen hesitated, showing early signs of panic, so Ally stepped in deciding to take matters into her own hands, "That's a great question," she said, flashing her most welcoming smile. Ally had a way of making her eyes twinkle when she smiled, a simple trait that fostered immediate trust disarming her willing victims, "it’s down to our father really, Alfred, bless his soul, he passed away last year. You see, he was obsessed with Merlin, which led him to study Myrddin. His ancestral heritage originated from Wales, and I guess it was his way of connecting with his roots. As kids we all heard about his research, and he told us stories, some he would make up to entertain us, and some were based on facts that he read in different books. It's a bit difficult for us to keep the two straight, but we're pretty sure he told us that Myrddin had a necklace, a unique necklace, that disappeared over the years after his death. He tried to piece together where it had gone but he didn't get far. We decided it would be fun, for us kids to try to continue his hobby, you know, in his honor. Before he died, he told us all about you, he’d heard that you might know of some useful information regarding the existence and whereabouts of the necklace. He spoke so kindly of you, and he held you in high regard. He told us that he'd never met you, but he knew you were interested in Merlin, and that you were a good researcher." Dan sat with his mouth agape, he was in awe of Ally's ability to manufacture such a compelling answer in the spur of the moment and deliver it with such authenticity. She had Ethel spellbound, ending her fabricated story with the sweetest of smiles.
Ethel thought for a moment, what should she do? She knew her health was failing, she knew she would never find the necklace within her lifetime, she knew she was missing some vital information, and she’d stalled in her quest to find the necklace. She was absolutely convinced it existed and would be happy if this group of kids continued her work and found it. In that moment, she decided to tell them everything - the result of hours, days, and years, of pouring through old manuscripts, books, songs, poems, coupled with visits to Wales and discussions with historians to try to piece together the journey the necklace had taken. She’d convinced herself of its existence, but she’d chased too many false leads and wasted countless years, examining leads that petered out on her quest to locate the necklace. After all her research, she felt strongly that someone clearly oblivious to its origin and powers probably owned the necklace today.
Ethel took a deep breath, "I’ve been studying the legends and folklore that surround Myrddin for almost fifty years, I've poured through every written manuscript, book, poem or song, that I could find trying to prove the existence of Myrddin's necklace. I'm convinced it once existed, and I have a strong feeling that it exists today. I'm less convinced, that its current owner, whoever that is, realizes the significance or the origin of this particular artifact." Ethel rubbed her nose staring directly at Dan, she studied the fine features of the handsome young man that sat before her. Oh, to be young, vibrant and that age again, she thought. "I don't think, I have a long time left in this world, so I'm happy to tell you what I know, and I hope you use this information wisely. I hope you find the necklace to honor your father's memory, I do wish I could have met him," she said wistfully.
"When Myrddin passed away, Welsh bards wrote songs and prose that told tales of the forest animals gathering near his residence to pay their respects. His necklace had powers, used for healing and protective spells; many attributed his extraordinary gifts, in part, to his necklace. If this was true it would attract many groups of people, some dangerous, to search for its existence. I think the knowledge surrounding Myrddin's necklace has faded over time, that's why I was curious when three young people knew about it." Ethel turned to face Ally, "Did you know, there’s no big elaborately carved grave stone for Myrddin, no tourist trap, come and see Merlin's grave, complete with gift shop. In the past, I’ve visited the banks of the river Tweed, in the village of Drumelzier. A local historian, a nice man named Charles, escorted me to the very spot where the locals believe Myrddin is buried,” she said wistfully.
Ethel seemed to drift away for a brief moment, before resuming her descriptions, "Yes, the grave was in a peaceful spot, and I had to promise not to divulge its exact location - which I never have. The necklace isn't there, the ring isn't there either, although his ring had no powers at all, that's just pure fiction. They tell me a simple skeleton is buried about six feet down."
The Crocodile Queen was growing impatient, "That's interesting, so if the necklace wasn't on his body when he died, and it's not in his grave, where do you think it went?"
Ethel smiled, tolerating the young woman’s impatience, she glanced at her flashing her steely blue eyes, "That's the mystery isn't it? In Wales, and England, at that time, practicing wizardry and witchcraft would secure you a place to be tied to a stake high upon a burning pyre. The church was eradicating the old pagan ways, and they didn't stop to differentiate between white magic and black magic. They weren’t interested in good versus bad, they wanted it all gone, and everyone who practiced it. Fortunately, when Myrddin died, a group of men in the village sought to preserve the old ways, they tried to continue practicing the white magic perfected by Myrddin. Myrddin had occasionally applied his magic within the village, he’d healed the sick, and cast out possessing spirits, Myrddin was liked and respected by the villagers. It's rumored, but I've never been able to prove this, that his cabin in the woods was raided, looted of its precious contents. A man called Ivor Davies led a group of villagers; he formed a secret society, some whisper that they still operate in Wales today. Myrrdin's private note books, recipes, potions, and of course, his necklace, is said to have been looted, and secretly stored by this underground society.” Ethel shook her head, clearly agitated that she couldn't prove this, no matter how tenacious a researcher she’d been.
"Do we know when this looting happened?" interrupted the Crocodile Queen, "I mean, the exact date that Myrddin died." That's clever thought Ally, we could go back in time and grab the necklace before the looting. No wait that would change the course of history, Ally's head filled with options and thoughts.
"History is always a bit of a blur, it’s represented by the interpretation of the author. That’s an eloquent way of saying no, we don't know the exact date, and there is much debate and speculation for researchers and scholars to argue over this. Just as we argue that Merlin was Myrddin, and that it was not his ring but his necklace that channeled his power. We argue over his final resting place, and the details surrounding his life, to be truthful, the more I know, the less I know. That's why I don't mind telling you the following." Ethel stopped and stared at Dan, sitting silently. His dark brown eyes reminded her of her husband Percy, long since passed, she smiled at his innocence and naivety.
"I don’t know what happened to the necklace,” Ethel looked off into the distance with a wistful expression, she seemed disappointed, “in 1885, a letter was written by a young woman called Amelia, living in Cornwall, England. In the text, she refers to her welcomed gift, an item once worn by Myrddin. At that time, Myrddin was a very uncommon name; it raises a strong beacon of suspicion, and a strong association to Merlin. Amelia continues to thank her husband, a wealthy landowner and London based businessman, stating she will wear it with pride at high society balls. Her husband was a well-known societal character, he dabbled in the dark arts, and his high rank in the so-called secret financial societies of the capital city, were well known. From this obscure reference, I’ve managed to trace the necklace through several owners, primarily located in and around the London area. I recognized the necklace peeking out, very subtly, from underneath the wrap of an aristocratic lady, timelessly preserved in an oil painting that hangs on the wall of Leeds castle,
in the south of England. This is the most excited I’ve ever been on my quest to find this necklace. It was partially obscured, but I could finally see it, the necklace existed, and more importantly, it had survived intact to the mid 1800's." Ethel wrung her hands excitedly, she glanced at the Crocodile Queen, "That was a big deal, a breakthrough moment for me you know." The Crocodile Queen smiled and nodded an affirmation.
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