The pendant

I

Sadie walked home. The sun smiled in a perfectly blue sky and a nice breeze kept the heat in check. At first she had planned to take the bus home but at the bus stop a queue had formed which promised stuffiness and an uncomfortable ride. And the day had been too good to end that way. A day off well spent, she thought. She looked forward to an evening putting her feet up, listening to the music she had just bought and rummaging among her other purchases, the spoils of the rare luxury of a spending spree, trying not to think about the boring day of lectures tomorrow.

She had never particularly noticed the shop before. Although she had walked home from the city before. It had always seemed a little seedy and run down, which fit the outskirts she now walked through. Something caught her eye this time and she halted in front of the shop window wondering what had made her stop. Among all manner of faintly grimy knick-knacks hung a blue stone pendant on a fine silver chain. Maybe it was the fact that the chain and pendant hung from a particularly ugly and dirty pipe stand that the pendant seemed of extraordinary beauty but it seemed the whole window display was arranged around its majesty. As if all other items paid homage to this one item of true beauty. Sadie knew she would buy the pendant even before she had entered the shop. It reached out to her and begged her to take it home. It would be the perfect end to a fine day.

The bell of the shop’s door clanked, sounding raw. Inside only a little light entered the shop through the stacked display window and the dimness only showed vague outlines of the items for sale. A shiver ran up Sadie’s spine. When she was a little girl, a ghost ride on a fair had given her the same feeling once.

“Can I help you?” a weak voice said out of the gloom.

When Sadie’s eyes became used to the dark, she saw an old man standing behind an ancient oak counter. Apart from the even more ancient cash register the only other item on the counter was a dress maker’s doll, torso only, off which several faded scarves hung and on which an old grey hat was precariously balanced. It gave the torso a peculiar, almost comic sense of dignity.

“Ehm, yes,” Sadie mustered her senses. “I saw the blue pendant in the window and I was wondering what it costs?”

“Ah,” the man said shuffling from behind the counter. “The blue pendant, I knew someone would come for that one day.”

The man came closer to Sadie and barely hiding a sharp intake of breath, Sadie saw that his milky white eyes looked right through her. Now she understood the dimness of the shop, the old man was blind. Yet he knew his way around the shop unfailingly it seemed because nothing was knocked over in his traversal to where Sadie stood.

He stood before her a few moments, as if all his other senses, hearing, smell and something altogether less easily defined, had scrutinised the new customer. Sadie felt exceedingly uncomfortable with the man standing so close, appraising her but his nearness only lasted a couple of seconds.

“I will get it for you,” the man said.

He shuffled off towards the shop’s window, pushing aside with assurance several of the bigger items in the shop to reach the pendant.

“Here it is,” he said when he had returned to Sadie. “It is not very dear,” he added handing Sadie the pendant.

“You mean you sell your own possessions in the shop?” Sadie asked misunderstanding the archaic word.

“No, no, I mean it is not very expensive,” the man corrected himself.

“Oh,” Sadie said apologetically. “I’m sorry, I misunderstood. Well, it is beautiful anyway.”

The silver chain felt cool in her hand but the stone felt warm to the touch which was unexpected. It felt exceedingly smooth. Even in the dim light of the shop she could see that the stone was slightly transparent.

“What is it?” Sadie asked. “The stone I mean.”

“It is blue amber,” the man answered while he shuffled back to the counter.

“I thought amber was more of a yellowy brown colour,” Sadie said caressing the amber.

“It is pretty rare stuff but it can be found when one looks for it hard enough,” answered a disembodied voice from the gloom of the back of the shop. “It’s very old!” Sadie could hear the man rummaging about. “I think I have a nice box for it somewhere,” she heard him say more to himself than to Sadie.

“How much is it?” Sadie asked, fearing the man might be a little premature in his assumption she could afford the pendant. Especially after the spending spree she had already had. After all a student’s allowance was not overly generous.

“Oh, don’t worry,” the man said returning from the back of the shop to the counter. “You can afford it.”

Sadie looked in his direction and saw he was smiling in a strange way.

“I’ve found a beautiful box for it,” he said holding out a elongated little box that had once held a watch or a set of pens or some other elongated item of luxury.

“But how much is it,” Sadie insisted, trying to ignore the strange smile that still lingered on the man’s face.

“For you my dear?” he said pausing for effect. “I’ll give it you for free.”

“For free?” Sadie cried in surprise. Then with a hint of suspicion she asked, “What do you mean?”

“I mean a pretty girl like you can have it for free,” the man said. “There is only one thing you must do for me,” he added.

Here it comes, Sadie thought. Men never gave a pretty girl something for free. Even – especially – decrepit old men like this one. Well if he thought she would …

“You must promise me not to wear the pendant tonight,” the man said hastily as if he had read her mind. “That’s all I ask of you. Not tonight or on any other night when there is a full moon. Those are Esus’ nights.”

Incomprehension stifled relief, “What is Esus?” Sadie asked, thinking the old man had lost his mind.

“Esus is a God,” the man answered simply. He held out a hand and Sadie gave him the pendant. For a second their fingers touched and the man winced. “So young,” he muttered. He quickly put the pendant in the box.

“A God?” Sadie asked taking a step back. “What God?”

“Esus was the God who conquered all evil spirits in the world,” the man said. “He guarded the tribe against evil. But at what price!” he added, his voice trembling with anger.

He handed Sadie the box with the pendant. His head was bent and he suddenly looked much older. His shoulders sagged and his spare strands of hair which had once been long and luxurious, Sadie imagined, now seemed even more white. Suddenly his head snapped up and he wailed words in a language Sadie could not understand.

“Dibu! Allos maghu mor?”

The old man breathed heavily, leaning on the counter. His blind eyes fixed beyond Sadie.

“Go!” he whispered hoarsely. “It is done. Go!”

Sadie stumbled backwards. Her eyes still locked on the old man but with every step back the man became more indistinct, swallowed by the gloom of the shop. The vague outline of the dress maker’s doll, garbed in scarves and hat, a grotesque mockery of humanity. She fumbled for the door handle and opened the door. Startled out of her stare by the raw clanging of the bell she turned and hurried out, clutching the box holding the pendant with white knuckled hands.

II

Man-of-herbs hated this day. The day before a full moon carried an unbearable heaviness for the druid. Walking back from gathering herbs in the forests and fields around the settlement, he glanced almost surreptitiously at the hill where the sacrificial tree stood. A piece of rope hung swinging in the wind from a thick branch. It seemed to mock him from a distance. He shivered. Why? He thought not for the first time. Why did the Gods demand such young lives?

“Dibu! Allos maghu mor?” he muttered.

As before no reply came. Gods demanded but never answered. Man-of-herbs entered the settlement. A laden silence hung over the village. People greeted each other with grave reticence. Not today the normal rumbustious bellows of the men or the excited chatter of the women. Even the children, normally innocent of the higher concerns of the adults, played quietly, feeling the dampened spirits of their elders.

“Greetings, Man-of-herbs,” said a strong, deep voice.

“Greetings,” muttered Man-of-herbs absentmindedly.

He felt a sudden searing pain as a callused hand slapped across his face. The broad shouldered man, attired as if for war, stood laughing. This set him even more apart from the other inhabitants of the settlement than his attire already did. No one commented on his boisterous behaviour though. You did not comment on the behaviour of Man-of-swords, veteran of many bloody campaigns, chief of the tribe.

“I say greetings in my most friendly manner and all I get in return is a bit of grumbling?” the man challenged Man-of-herbs.

“I’m sorry,” Man-of-herbs said rubbing his glowing cheek. “My thoughts were elsewhere.”

“Well, you better bend your thoughts on the here and now,” Man-of-swords said sternly. “We want everything to go smoothly tonight. It wouldn’t do to upset Esus!”

“No, no,” Man-of-herbs said. “It wouldn’t,” adding hastily, “I won’t!” as he heard the jangle of wrist bands as Man-of-swords’ hand rose for another admonition.

No indeed it would not but what about his own feelings? Man-of-herbs thought as he hastened away, nodding in the direction of Man-of-swords. Did Esus consider his feelings?

Man-of-swords followed the druid with a thoughtful look on his face. He shook his head and walked on. The druid was losing it, he thought. If this got any worse the village might be in for all sorts of plagues and dark times. He should cast around for another druid. Better safe than sorry.

The villagers had assembled in a semi-circle on the hill where the ancient oak tree stood in the eerie blue light cast by the full moon. Next to the tree stood a girl dressed in a coarse white dress. She shivered slightly from the fresh breeze that played around the tree. Or was it fear? Man-of-herbs stood next to the girl. He held a small object in his hands. His eyes were cast down as he mumbled the required incantations. The blue stone felt warm in his hands, not like other stones. How could it not feel warm? He wondered as his brain fled from the horror that was to take place in only a few moments. With the spirits of generations of sacrificed girls gathered in a single stone to help protect the tribe against evil, how could the stone not feel warm?

He put the flaxen string carrying the blue stone over the girl’s head and hung the pendant around her neck. He touched her cheek and turning, walked away. As he walked off he heard a scuffle, a muffled cry, the rope being pulled violently over the tree’s branch and then silence. He walked on, eyes staring at nothing. Tears washed his eyes. His milky white, blind eyes.

III

The blue flashing lights winked on and off. The curtains did little to dampen the sense of emergency these lights relayed. A crowd of people had gathered to see the spectacle. Inspector Wadeley peeked past the edge of the curtain and surveyed an all too familiar scene.

“What is it with flashing blue lights that attracts people?” he said to no one in particular.

As the only other living occupant of the room, sergeant Wells felt obliged to respond.

“I dunno, Sir. I guess it’s the same as rotted meat and flies. Can’t imagine the attraction in that either.”

“That’s a stupid analogy, Wells,” Inspector Wadeley said turning to his sergeant. “These people are not flies.”

“Can you be sure?” Wells said raising his eyebrows a couple of times.

“Let’s get on with it, shall we?” Inspector Wadeley said slightly irritated. “Anything to indicate foul play?”

“Nothing,” Wells said. “Nothing much to indicate death even, it almost looks like she’s asleep.”

“Apart from the lack of breathing and a pulse you mean?” Wadeley asked sarcastically.

“I know, still, she was a pretty girls, Sir. Seems a waste.”

“If I didn’t know better I’d almost suspect a heart residing in that broad chest of yours,” Wadeley said. “Tell the crows they can move the body.”

Wells rose to tell the waiting morticians downstairs they could get on with their job. Wadeley knelt next to Sadie’s body. He studied her one more time. Making sure he had missed nothing. But apart from the look of surprised horror frozen on her dead face he could find no signs of violence, nothing to indicate drug use. And Wells had been right, nothing indicated death. Even the colour in her face remained fresh. But the lack of a pulse and breathing could not be denied. This girl was dead, she just didn’t look it.

The morticians came in and went about their business. Wadeley gave the room the once over. Wells had done it before but Wadeley had not become an Inspector by chance. Nothing. Just a normal girl living a normal student life. Signs of fun but nothing to indicate darker pleasures. Still death had found her suddenly. Just before the morticians zipped up the body bag Wadeley stopped them. One last look, just to make sure.

His eyes fell on the pendant around her neck. A beautiful blue stone on a silver chain. Something in him stirred. He reached out and unclasped the silver chain. As he lifted the stone from her breast her chest fell as if a long held breath was finally released. The colour drained from her face and in an instant her complexion was one of death.

The morticians stared at Wadeley who stared at the stone. It felt warm in his hands.