Butterflies in Glass Cases

CHAPTER 5: Macha and Nemain

Ms. Pierre leads me up the stairs to the second floor of the Morgan home. As she does so, I can't help but notice that she is gripping the banister with enough force that her knuckles are turning white.

Naturally, I assume that she must have lost her balance one too many times in her old age, so I choose not to comment on her vice-like grip on the railing. Still, I can't help but notice that she glances over her shoulder a few times, as though she's trying to keep tabs on me for the duration of our ascension.

Finally, we reach the top of the stairs and turn right. I now find myself staring down a hallway that's so long, that its perspective makes it appear to narrow with distance.

As we traverse the length of the hallway I find my eyes dancing back and forth between the staggered sconces that have been mounted on either side, dimly lighting our way with small, gas-lit flames. Were it not for having just entered from outside, I wouldn't be able to it was daytime, based on the complete absence of natural light throughout the corridor.

After what feels like an endless distance, especially after having traversed the walking trail with my giant suitcase, we eventually stop at a heavy-looking, wooden door on the right side of the hall.

The door is about nine feet tall, and made out of the same wood that has been used in the floorboards and the paneling on the walls. In the middle of the large door is the symbol of what, at first, looks like an artistic interpretation of a three-petaled flower.

I stand there looking at the intricate design of the symbol, noticing that it consists of a single line that weaves around itself three times before returning to where it began. Around the woven image is a perfectly symmetrical circle.

The flawless curves of the design clearly demonstrate the skill of whoever it was that embossed it during the door's creation. Even now, some five hundred years into the history of the home, the polished edges of the symbol seamlessly glow in the faint, flickering lamplight that has been cast upon it from either side.

As Ms. Pierre gently opens the large door, the soft sound of 'Für Elise' being played by a music box, trickles into the hallway as though it had been cued up in preparation for the reveal.

Entering the room, I am immediately taken aback by the sheer immensity of it. I suddenly realize that despite the length of hallway we had walked to get to the door, we've only reached the middle of the room. It quickly becomes evident that the Morgan children have been given the entire front half of the second floor.

As though the sheer grandeur of the room wasn't enough, I look up to see that the ceiling stretches upwards one and a half stories at its highest point, then slants downwards as it crosses the room with the same grading of the sprawling rooftop I had admired whilst crossing the small clearing.

Lining the far wall and mirroring the tapered affect of the ceiling are large stained glass windows with colorful abstract patterns. Each little pane of colored glass tints the light of day to its own shade, yet when the rays of light are combined, they give the room an almost pinkish glow.

Between each of the immense windows, and in each of the corners of the room are large, white pillars, embedded into the walls. The top and bottom of each pillar is complimented with gold detailing, and each base is embossed with the same symbol of a three-petaled flower that is so prominently displayed on the door.

At the far end of the room, centered with precision, are two identical children's beds set side-by-side. Each are perfectly made with crisp, military folds in the sheets that would suggest a borderline-neurotic attention to detail.

Were it not for the presence of the beds, one could naturally assume that this room was a private wing of the Vatican, as opposed to the bedroom of two young children.