The Silver Witch(58)

Dylan exchanges glances with Tilda, but goes to do his best with the fuses.

‘Why not use the light from the window?’ Tilda suggests, impatient for his verdict, and fearing the lights will stubbornly refuse to work while she is present.

‘Yes, why not?’ The professor leans as close to the mullioned glass as he can, positioning the bracelet so that the sunlight glints off it.

Once the professor’s attention is focused away from her, Tilda is able to still her mind, close her eyes and bring her own thoughts to a single point. She imagines the power surging through wires toward the little house. She imagines a spark of electricity, a fizz of energy, as she wills the connection to be made once again. There is a pause, a flash, and then the lights go back on. Tilda waits, uncertain as to how steady the flow will be, but it seems as if it will hold.

The professor’s mind is so absorbed by what he is looking at, he barely registers the working lights.

‘My word, this is quite splendid. Where did you say your dog unearthed it?’

‘Very close to the water, this side of the lake, just before you reach the bird hide. Do you think it’s bronze?’

‘Oh no, look at the purity of the metal. Look at the color. Scarcely a blemish. There is only one element that can so resist the ravages of decay.’ When Tilda looks blank, he explains. ‘Gold, my dear. It is incorruptible.’

‘Gold! But, it’s really heavy; it must be worth a small fortune.’

The professor resumes scrutinizing the details of the treasure. ‘Trust me when I tell you, if this is as old as I think it is, if its origins fit, well, the value of the material will be of secondary importance to its provenance. Ah! Lights again,’ he exclaims, at last properly noticing the return of the power supply.

Dylan comes back into the room. He looks at Tilda, the question written plainly on his face. She shrugs and shakes her head. The bulbs in the room flicker but then steady again.

‘The design,’ Tilda has to ask, ‘is it … is it common? I mean, hares and hounds were often depicted in Celtic art, weren’t they?’

‘They were, though it was more usual for the hounds to outnumber the hares. That said, these particular beasts are more finely detailed than is common. See? Such delicate curls and lines, especially the faces, which were more ordinarily quite plainly rendered.’

‘It’s big for a bracelet,’ Dylan puts in. ‘Was it for a man, maybe? Or for wearing on the upper arm, d’you think?’

‘It’s possible.’ His uncle nods. He places the find carefully on his desk and hurries to select a book from his collection. Jamming his spectacles back on his face, muttering all the while, he searches for an entry. ‘Let me see, let me see, ah, here we are. As I thought: “Hunting dogs were often seen as a sign of status, and highborn men of the area would have regularly engaged in hare coursing or deer hunting not only to supply meat for the table, but as a sporting or social activity. However, when considering depictions of dogs, whether or not they are specifically hunting hounds, the more mythological significance of both creatures should be born in mind to avoid misinterpretation of the work.” Yes,’ the professor says, nodding emphatically, ‘particularly given the imbalance of numbers here. You see, hares are usually solitary animals, so the chase would be depicted with a single hare pursued by several hounds. This shows the reverse. Also, the attention to detail, giving such character to the faces, suggests something more personal, more individual, almost.’ He snaps the book shut and removes his glasses. ‘So, there you have it.’

‘We do?’ Dylan asks.

Tilda leans forward and picks up the bracelet again. The gold feels warm in her hand. ‘So, if it’s not showing a hunt, what, then?’

‘Well, what is so special about your lovely object,’ the professor tells them, ‘is that it is a marvelous example of the importance of mythology among Celtic people. Each animal had its place in their beliefs, in their folktales, in their ancient stories. Owls, for example, traditionally foretold death. Horses represented the underworld, or departed spirits. These creatures’—he gestures at the bracelet with his glasses—‘are slightly unusual in that they both often represented the same thing.’

‘Which was?’ Tilda feels a nervous excitement charge through her body, as if someone has just startled her, or she has narrowly avoided a fall, or escaped a danger of some sort.

Professor Williams smiles as he explains, ‘Hares and dogs are reliably accepted to represent witches.’

The next two hours are spent delving deep into the professor’s library, searching for images or references that might give them clues as to who made the bracelet and who owned it. Every now and again the lights dim or flicker. Each time, Tilda takes a moment to calm herself, to still her mind, to allow the power to work. After a while she notices that she is concentrating her search on one detail of what the professor has told her: witches. She is surprised to find few mentions of them, but what is written seems to suggest an entirely different view than the one she might have expected.