Mathilde frowns, turning to H to see if he can offer any insights. “I was a wee carvin’ on tha wall back then. Awake, but couldn’t see much from my perch.”
Shrugging, Mathilde makes a guess. “Maybe something happened that made them fear telling others? England wasn’t exactly the stablest country before the 17th century. If there are any notes left, they’re probably hidden away in the archives of one of the oldest colleges.”
Thinking of 1600s England reminds me of a song I learned in grammar school. I sing the opening bars, drawing a laugh from Mathilde, “Divorced, beheaded, died. Divorced, beheaded, survived…” I grab a breath before commenting, “If it was around the time of Henry VIII, I can see how they wanted to avoid offering him any excuses to rid himself of more wives. Any guesses on when they introduced the prefect’s role? And why us, I mean, our families?”
Dropping back into her chair, Mathilde replies, “Lillian thought we might be descendants of the original researchers. Something they did during their experiments shaped our DNA. It is frustrating for a librarian such as myself to not know the full history. I’m looking forward to digging into the library archives, to see if I can construct my family tree and understand at least that part of the mystery.”
I shift in my seat, “That would explain how we can see the magic, but not why they limited the number of prefects to three.”
Mathilde grabs a pen and paper, scratching down three lines of text on the page. “The Latin versions of our titles make it clearer: bibliothecae, musii and carimoniae. The bibliothecae praefectus was left in charge of all written materials.” She waves at herself, “That’s me. They put another person as the musii praefectus in charge of looking after magical artefacts, that’s Kate. Last, but not least,” she smiles, ”they left the carimoniae praefectus overseeing all the people. I should warn you that the term ‘People’ has a broader meaning, here. It includes the ghosts and all the portraits, and not to forget the little beasts like H over there.”
I wink at H, “Sounds like I’m your new boss.” He singes the hem of my dress in reply.
Laughing, Mathilde clarifies, “You’ll soon see that the human beings are your main concern. The Eternals are there to assist you in planning your ceremonies and events. We all have our part to play with the magic, my books, Kate’s statues and buildings and your ceremonies. As a prefect, we’re responsible for keeping our areas in perfect working order. The magic calls to members of our families. It guides people like me and you and Kate, shaping our choices so we end up as experts in the needed fields.”
I blink, trying to make sense of Mathilde’s words. “So, you’re saying that magic made me be an event planner?”
“In short, yes. Let me give you an example. Before you got this job, were you actively looking for one?”
I cast my mind back. “Huh. No, actually, I wasn’t. Even if I was, I wouldn’t have been looking for roles outside of London. I don’t really remember applying. Lillian phoned one day and invited me for an interview, and that was that.”
“No missie, that was magic,” H interjects.
My body stills completely, stunned by this revelation. “Magic made me into an event planner and then brought me to Oxford, so I could oversee all the university’s ceremonies? And the ceremonies are critical to keeping the magic… alive?”
“Not alive, but accessible,” Mathilde explains. “The magic needs to be in alignment so that Oxford can continue to enjoy the benefits it provides. Lillian explained to me that three of us, you, me and Kate, help to triangulate the field. I keep all of our books secure and help bring new knowledge in. Kate inspires through art and architecture. And you entertain and enrapture through ceremony. Does that make sense?”
I nod, finally starting to understand how I fit in, and how much responsibility sits on our shoulders.
Satisfied, Mathilde reclines in her seat. “Speaking of ceremonies, I understand you’ve got St Margaret autumn gala to plan straightaway. How are you finding it there?”
Just like that, all the excitement I’d been feeling evaporates. My stomach churns as visions of yesterday flash through my mind. “It’s been a rollercoaster since I arrived. Between finding out about the magic and discovering Chef Smythe…” My voice trails off as I run out of words.
Seeing me upset, Mathilde rises from behind her desk to take the chair next to mine. “Did you have a run-in with her already? Her scones are famous, but I’ve heard she’s a beast.”
A frown creases my face. “Oh no, Mathilde, you haven’t heard? She’s… she’s dead. Dr Radcliffe and I discovered her body in the college kitchen.”
Mathilde’s eyes fly open. “What? WHAT?!?! Oh my god, Nat, that’s awful. What happened?”
I suck in air, hunting for strength. “I met Dr Radcliffe early in the morning. She was showing me around the college, giving me some history. We ended up in the dining hall. It was silent when we walked in. Probably should have been our first clue that something was awry. But we were chatting, and she was waxing on about Chef Smythe’s scones.”
Mathilde grips my hand between her own. “Where did you find her?” she asks.
Squeezing her hand in thanks, searching my mind for the best words to describe the scene, I opt for the bare minimum. No point in giving anyone else nightmares. “She was in the kitchen, draped face down on the metal island. Meat cleaver sticking from her back.” I shiver as the vision flames to life in my mind.
Releasing my hand, Mathilde pulls me into a gentle hug. “Thank goodness you were with Dr
