Do you like stories with mystery and suspense? Strange and “wyrd” ones? Well, if you do, keep reading and enjoy Eggcentricsagas. If you are just joining Eggcentricsagas, you might want to start from the beginning: A La Mano: Part 1-The Treasure
Turning the page, I found what I was looking for: The Crown of Castile. A medieval state in the Iberian Peninsula.
I proceeded to read about Isabella the Queen of Castile. With her marriage to Ferdinand of Aragon, she brought about the unification of Spain. The countries maintained their independence but the two crowns ruled both kingdoms jointly. They were the king and queen that financed Christopher Columbus. Pausing in my reading, I thought, Could this brooch have belonged to Isabella? But how had it come to the graveyard? Then I rubbed my eyes and yawned. Three nights of restless sleep was taking its toll.
Every night the same nightmare; knocks and whispers causing me to wake up with a start. Last night was the worst. Whilst still in bed, I sat up and the knocking continued. Thinking for sure that it was Mrs. Tilsby or one of the other boarders, I went to the door. Upon opening it, I discovered no one was there.
Spurred by thinking about the other mark on the brooch, the fleur-de-lis, I refocused on the encyclopedia. I continued to read but came across nothing regarding this symbol and Ysabel. Finally, I closed the tome as it did not answer my questions. Would I find the magical book that had been in my night terrors? What about the Chinese man and the stone? I yawned again.
My studies as well as my meager lunch had made me hungry. I thought about Mrs. Tilsby’s awful sauerkraut and my stomach turned. She had been fussing with her fermentation crock earlier this morning so I knew that she would serve it for dinner. Recalling the many times I had watched her removing scum from her foul-smelling brine of cabbage, I decided to stop at a tavern on my way home for a pint and a decent meal. It would be worth the future looks of hostility from Mrs. Tilsby and Mr. Fu.
Being a Friday night, the bar was extra noisy. Jim Bray, sitting in a corner booth, waved me over. The first time we met, he had told me that his given name was Carlos Diego but that he went by the name of Jim because of his English father. He smiled at me, his weather-beaten face conveying wisdom and experience. Many a time during our friendship he had captivated me with tales of his adventures abroad. I signaled the barmaid, gave her my order, and then made my way over Jim’s table. We greeted one another and exchanged pleasantries. After the barmaid brought my pint, we began an earnest conversation.
Knowing Jim’s mother was Spanish, I hoped he could answer my question. “Jim, do you know what araña means?”
His lined face lit up at the mention of his mother’s language. “Sí, it means spider. Why do you ask?”
“I saw the name on a headstone and wondered about it.”
“It can also be a last name. My mother knew a woman with that name; she came from an area that used to be the ancient kingdom of Aragon, Spain. I went there once.”
What he said jogged my memory of Ferdinand. He had been the King of Aragon. Leaning forward, I inquired, “Do you know anything else about it? Are fleur-de-lis associated with Aragon?”
A quizzical look passed over his face and he shrugged. “Why all these questions?”
Pausing and taking a swig of my ale, I pondered whether or not to tell him my story. Summoning my pluck, even though he might think me crazy, I told Jim everything. From beginning to end, including the mysterious knocking while I was awake. He listened without interruption. When I was finished he said, “You shouldn’t take home things that you find in a cemetery.”
His statement confirmed what had been niggling at my brain. Was the brooch haunted?
I took the brooch out of my pocket and laid it on the wooden table beside the flickering candle. We both stared at it; mesmerized by the play of the light on its golden curvature and delicate etchings. Finally, breaking the silence, I asked, “What should I do with it?”
The approach of the barmaid with my dinner caused me to pick up the mysterious brooch and put it back in my pocket. Jim seemed relieved to see it gone. He stroked his bearded chin and said, “I know someone who might be able to answer your question.”
Next: Part 5-The Soothsayer’s Parlor
