Then I was back in the car, dazed by the breakneck drive down to the valley. No-one spoke.
Suddenly I heard the Princess say:
“Frau Fromm, what would you say to a repeat of our outing to that fairytale castle in the near future?”
Jane gave a smile of agreement and replied:
“There is nothing that would give me more pleasure than to accept such an invitation.”
I was quietly pleased that the two women got on so well together, especially when I saw the Princess take Jane’s hand and press it warmly. This mutual friendship seemed to remove a burden of dark forebodings that had weighed upon me, though I could not say why. Reassured, I looked up out of the window of the noiseless, gliding Lincoln at the radiant evening sky.
High up in the turquoise vault of the sky gleamed the thin sickle of the waning moon.
The Second Vision
The moment we were back in my apartment I asked Jane to let me have a closer look at the mad old gardener’s strange gift.
I subjected the dagger to a thorough examination. I immediately saw that the blade and the handle had not originally belonged together. The blade had obviously been a spearhead which had snapped off at the socket. There was something strange about the metal, which I had not come across before. It looked oily – not at all like steel– with a dull gleam, almost like flint. And then the jewel-encrusted haft! There could be no doubt about it: the copper alloyed with a small amount of tin showed all the signs of southwest Carolingian or early Moorish work. Beryls, chrysolites and there, an interlacing ornament, difficult to decipher – some dragon-like being? Three rings around it, two empty, the stones removed. In the third a sapphire; above the dragons’ heads a crowning gem. Spontaneously the image of a shining rock crystal appeared before my mind’s eye.
I said to myself: this dagger fits the description in the Princess’ glass case like no other. No wonder she was so excited when she saw it.
The whole time Jane was behind me, looking over my shoulder.
“What do you find so interesting about that old paper knife, dear?”
“Paper knife?” At first I could not understand what she was talking about; then I had to laugh at female ignorance that could see a thousand-year-old blade as a letter opener.
“You’re laughing at me, love. Why?”
“Darling, you’re a little off target; that isn’t a paper knife, it’s a Moorish dagger.”
Jane shook her head.
“You don’t believe me, Jane?”
“Why shouldn’t I? It just looked like a paper knife to me.”
“How did you come upon such an idea?”
“It was the other way round; the idea just came to me.”
“What came to you?”
“That it is a paper knife. I knew that straightaway.”
I looked at Jane; she was staring at the dagger. I had a sudden thought:
“Have you seen the dagger, the ... paper knife before?”
“How could I have seen it before if it was only this afternoon that ... but, wait a moment, you’re quite right: now I look at the thing ... the longer I ... the longer I look at it ... the more I’m sure that I have seen it before.” More she would not say.
I was too full of excitement to risk an experiment with Jane. I would not have known how to go about it anyway. There were so many thoughts and ideas crowding into my mind that, in order to be alone, I pretended I had some important writing to do to get Jane to go about her housework. I covered her face with kisses as she left the room.
Hardly was the door shut behind her than I rushed to my desk and started rummaging through John Dee’s papers and the pile of my own excerpts to find where my ancestor might have mentioned the dagger that was an heirloom in the family. I found nothing. Eventually my hand fell on the green notebook; I opened it at random and read:
And in that night of darkest temptation I lost the thing that was most dear to me: my talisman, the dagger – the spearhead of my ancestor Hywel Dda. I lost it in the park meadow during the conjuration; and I seem to remember that I held it in my hand, according to the instructions of Bartlett Greene, as the spectre approached and I stretched out my hand to it. – But after that, no more! – Thus it was that I rewarded Black Isaïs for anything that I afterward received of Black Isaïs. – – And it seems to me too high a price for her deceits.
I pondered long: what did “too high a price” mean? – There were no more clues in the documents. Suddenly I had an idea; my hand snatched up the polished coal scrying glass.
But it was just the same as the first time I tried to read in its darkly shining surfaces. The coal in my hand remained a lump of coal.
Then I remembered Lipotin and his incense. I leapt up and soon found the red sphere, but it was empty, completely empty and useless.
At the same moment I noticed the onyx bowl in which we had heated the incense. Had Jane, with the instinctive action of a housewife, cleaned it out? No, there was still a dark brown crust left by the magic drug. From that moment on there was no more calm reflection; it was as if I were acting under compulsion. I grasped the lamp and poured some spirit from it into the bowl. As it flared up the thought passed through my mind: Perhaps what I am doing is not so stupid – perhaps there is a little
