The Fatal Strand

Staring at the accompanying label, she almost wished that she was able to read what it said, for who could have worn such a heavy, prodigious pendant?

‘It contains the heel bone of Achilles,’ Miss Ursula’s voice sounded at the entrance to The Egyptian Suite.

Without taking her tongue from the glass, Edie raised her eyes. The eldest of the Websters was standing in the semi-darkness of the threshold to that midnight, windowless room, but the girl could only make out a black shadow shape which glinted when the jet beads of the woman’s evening gown caught the glare of the street lamp.

‘You can remove it from the case if you wish, Edith.’

With an impertinent toss of her head, the girl jumped from the box. The lumpy locket had lost some of its appeal now that she had been given permission to wear it and she ambled over to another cabinet.

The figure in the doorway remained in the masking gloom. ‘Soon you will know the history of each exhibit,’ she promised. ‘Remember that you are to succeed my sister and I as custodian of these precious and perilous objects. Ask of me what you will, before my mind collapses into the dementia of Celandine and Veronica before her.’

Peering into the recess of this larger case, Edie inspected the contents. Balanced upon a roughly-carved granite plinth was a great globe of worn and crackled leather. Over the irregular bumps of its scarred and weathered surface, the mustard-coloured light curved softly, making the pummelled and dented sphere look like a giant, mouldering apricot.

‘Big football?’ the girl speculated. ‘Break yer toes kicking that round the park.’

‘You know very well it is nothing of the kind,’ Miss Ursula’s floating voice upbraided her. ‘It is the Eye of the Fomor.’

Edie studied the huge, swollen globe anew. ‘A real eye?’ she breathed, misting up the glass. ‘It’s massive.’

‘The Fomorians were monsters who plagued the Ireland of ancient time,’ the old woman began in a whispering chant. ‘Yet even amongst their hideous company, Balor, the son of Buarainech, was as a mountain. All feared him, for one of his eyes had the power to wither and kill at a single glance. Such was its dreaded strength that he was compelled to keep it firmly closed and covered. But when the Fomorians rode across the plain to meet their enemies, the attendants of Balor would raise his eyelid with a great hook and entire armies fell before its destroying gaze.’