Ruby and Pearl had to concede that Eddy did have a point, no matter how contemptuously and bitterly he made it.
“Perhaps he's right. We could try a little simple alchemy, I suppose. Assuming that the means of hiding information was fairly basic, then it could work… And let's face it, if someone was hiding something for Dave, then the means would have to be pretty basic for him to have even a remote chance of finding it.”
Pearl stood up and started to scan the contents of her shelves. What would be the ideal catalyst to reveal anything that was there? Sulphur? No. Too smelly and noxious. Magnesium? No. Far too bright and harsh. Sodium? Too unpredictable and far too yellow. No. They were thinking too deeply. What would Dave have access to in order to reveal any secret messages? Pearl looked from shelf to shelf. Potassium? No. Jellied toad spleen? No. It was not likely Dave would have that in his cupboard. Think simple…
Suddenly, Pearl smiled to herself, snapped her fingers, picked up the paper and walked towards her oven. Ruby, Eddy and Magpie Jack watched in bemusement, wondering just what she was up to. Pearl glanced over her shoulder, saw the expressions on their faces, smiled to herself and declared:
“Observe. Simplicity itself...”
She put the paper onto a baking tray, opened the oven, withdrew a particularly fine walnut cake and replaced it with the baking tray and paper.
“Five minutes, please,” she cooed, as the wonderful scent of a perfect walnut cake wafted over to them.
There was a certain amount of whispered discussion among those left at the table, but each was too uncertain of Pearl's motives to obstruct her. They waited impatiently, but quietly. Even Eddy kept his bony jaw silent. Finally...
“And now the moment of truth!”
Pearl took a look at her wrist watch, put on her well-worn oven gloves, pulled out the black enamel baking tray, and placed it, together with its contents, down on the table in front of them all. The paper had turned a crispy, cooked, golden-yellow, and there were a number of apparently fresh markings on it, etched out in a faint sepia-brown colour. She raised her eyebrows in an 'I told you so' kind of look, and announced, matter-of-factly.
“Lemon juice. The oldest and simplest form of invisible ink. Any schoolboy who's ever read a James Bond novel could have told you. Write your secret message in lemon juice, and then heat to reveal. Simple. Even Dave must have a method of cooking in his home.”
“I bet it took him six goes in the microwave to work it out,” chirped Eddy.
“No matter,” interrupted Ruby. “Let us unravel the paper and see if we can unravel this mystery at one and the same time.”
Taking great care not to tear the paper, Pearl gently unfolded and unfurled it, and they all studied its newly-revealed contents.
Exposed by the heat was an illustration. The central image was of a simple urn – or was it a chalice? Inscribed over it were a six and a nine. In the middle of the urn, or chalice, were what appeared to be a drawing of the top surface of a gemstone, and, almost at the bottom of it, a ball, or an orb, or something. The whole image was contained within a seven pointed star.
Ruby was stunned: “Post centum quod viginti anos patebo.”
“What??!!” they all exclaimed.
“‘After one hundred and twenty years I will reopen.’ It is a phrase used by a mysterious and secretive society. The Latin words foretell the opening of a portal through which knowledge – and maybe other... things... of questionable origin – may be manifest. The general symbolism is exactly the sort of thing that this particular society would use... Their original raison d’être was to promote a programme of research and reformation of the sciences, a very... 'Germanic' view for the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries. Very esoteric, deep and smoky. You know the kind of thing, all long gowns and chanting at midnight to the moon. Complete loonies, the lot of them, don't you agree? Good gracious. The seven-pointed star. I didn't expect that. Now, that is cunning...”
The questions still remained: If such a society did exist what would it want here, in the small village of Widdowshins? What power or portal could call it here, to this small, insignificant place in the North of England? What could it wish to gain? Ruby breathed in heavily, held her breath and pondered deeply. Then she raised her head from her breast and looked slowly around at all of those gathered. Finally, her eyes brightened, as if a mist were lifting and things were becoming clearer.
“The symbolism is more apparent to me now. The seven-pointed star is a symbol, both alchemic and mystic, of self-enclosure. It denotes Oneness. A group, or a secret. Maybe both. The seeds of the seven metals lie within, so… Promises of success and wealth, maybe? Pricking at the greed within all of us? The central image seems to be that of an urn... Hmmm. Cornucopia? Again, promising bounty... Or is it a chalice, something of a more... religious nature. The Grail?”
Ruby was losing herself in her own thoughts; just speaking them aloud as they occurred, oblivious to the others – almost as if she were enchanted by the rust-brown image on the pale yellow, crispy paper:
“In any case it will be a fundamental visual link to wherever this group or 'society' is based – because we‘re definitely dealing with some sort of secret society here. The imagery of gemstones surrounding the star leads me to suspect that the circle at the base of the urn, or whatever it is, may represent a pearl, and, if this is the case, then that, in turn, suggests the moon, water, or even the good lady
