The Mirror of AmaChicantè

The Mirror stared back at the audience of fifteen. It was lying on a stand before them, seemingly innocent. Many of the objects in the auction were from Medieval England, however, the hand-held Mirror was from the Celtic reign before the Dark Ages. How a complex piece of art had come from a people that had no writing system was a mystery. There were two, who had nothing to lose and everything to gain, that sought it. Each was determined to be the possessor.

She was a Student of Gaelic and a Historian of sorts. She wanted to know the name of the Mirror, for it would verify the existence of a goddess or not. Her translation of Gaelic text spoke of “Revenge.” “Revenge” was distinguished as a goddess rather than an idea or action. It would revolutionize Druidism today to know about a goddess long forgotten. And no one was here to take away the opportunity that was now within her grasp. She could not lose this time. It would give her recognition that had been taken from her before.

He was a Professor of Ancient Studies at Oxford and an amateur Philosopher. His desire for the mirror came down to the fact he wished to be the Professor to ask about the Celtic era. He read in the druid scriptures about a Mirror that obeyed its Master’s bidding. He had found this mirror, and it lay before him. All he had to do was take it as his own. Then he would be the leading expert in the field.

The Mirror itself was silver with designs on the reflective face and on the back. The face was of foggy, ash colored glass and etched with a circle around the edge and crescent moons at the four points of the compass. The smooth silver back was inscribed with a picture of a great tree, which is the symbolic meeting point of the sky, water, and earth. On the handle was the duality of water and fire, between which was a harp inlaid with gold. Each of these pictures was of fine craftsmanship and showed the religious fascination of the Druids.

The auctioneer slammed the gavel down to close the bidding on a tapestry recovered from one of England’s castles. The Mirror was up for grabs. The Student and Professor readied themselves. The clear tenor voice of the auctioneer told about the Mirror. “This mirror is from the Celtic reign in England. It is pure silver with engravings on the glass and back. The handle has a harp inlaid with gold.”

The auctioneer spoke. “We will start the bidding at 500 dollars.” The Student raised her hand, and it was acknowledged. “600 dollars?” The Professor raised his hand, and it was also acknowledged. This continued until, “2400 dollars?”

A Man in the back of the room raised his hand. The auctioneer pointed at the Man and acknowledged the bid. The Student turned to look at this Man who had joined her and the Professor in bidding. The Man was Caucasian with a medium height and an apparent excellent taste, at least with his wardrobe, which was proved by the expensive Italian suit he wore. “2500 dollars,” the auctioneer inquired. The Student raised her hand without turning her head back towards the front.

The Professor was getting increasingly worried. This was too much. The money, all the money was going to be gone! He could bluff, but eventually quitting would be the only option. What if he won, but was not able to pay? He would be branded for life. “3300 dollars,” called the auctioneer. It was supposedly the Professor’s turn to bid. He kept his hand down.

The Student saw that she had only one competitor now, the Man in the Italian suit. The Student wrinkled her brow in confusion. Surely an obscure man who dressed in Italian suits had no intrest in Celtic England. And if he did, would he even know the importance of the Mirror? The Student raised her arm at the mention of the next bid, and the Man the next time. “This will be tricky,” she thought to herself.

“3600 dollars?” The Student raised her hand, while mentally checking to see if she could go higher. “3700 dollars?” The Man didn’t raise his hand. The Student looked back and observed what seemed to be the Man arguing with himself.

“3600 dollars. Going once, going twice—”

“4000 dollars,” the Man cried out.

The Student almost gasped. She had a small fortune, but it was definitely a small fortune. Did she dare risk it all? Could she bear to hear the words, “Sold to the man in the back?” Never!

“4100 dollars,” she challenged.

“4200 dollars,” the Man responded.

“4300.”

“4400.”

“4500,” cried the Student.

“4600,” shouted the Man.

“4700.” The Student was becoming desperate.

“4800.” The Man was not going to quit. The Student was fed up; that Man would not take this opportunity away!

“5000 dollars!”

A hush settled over the room. The auctioneer’s eyes were wide. Surely this mirror wasn’t worth that much! All eyes settled on the Man at the back of the room. He did not return the bid.

“Going once, going twice, sold to the lady in the third row for 5000 dollars.” The auctioneer’s gavel slammed onto the round wood piece attached to the podium.

The Student smirked. It was hers. The Mirror was hers! She walked silently out of the auction to the lobby to claim her prize.

She noticed through the glass doors of the lobby that it was still raining outside. She slipped on her green raincoat and wrapped her bright yellow scarf about her neck. Then she took the box, which held the Mirror and placed it under her arm. She moved toward the door and was about to leave when the Man from the back came up behind her.

“Beware,” he said. “The Mirror of Ama – Chicantè answers only to its master.”

“Your point?” the Student asked rudely.

“You are not the master.”

The Student rolled her eyes. “I don’t believe in fairy tales. I’ve never believed in them and I never will. Now if you don’t mind, I’ll be leaving.”

As she turned to leave the Man spoke:

“Staring foggy glass,

Greens turn Gray,

Yellows to Black

Reality Blurs

In the Pool of Forgotten Dreams.”

The Student stopped in her tracks. That was the same poem she found near the reference to “Revenge.” What did this all mean? She turned to ask the Man, but he was gone. She paused and wrinkled her brow. Finally she shrugged her shoulders, and continued to walk out the doors into the cool, dark, dank night.

The Man watched her go while standing in the shadows. “She doesn’t understand,” he mumbled to himself while shaking his head. Then he said a little bit louder. “She has sealed her fate.”

The Student walked under the street lamps toward the place she was staying. She had her prize under her arm and it was a welcome weight in the light rain. She stopped under a particularly bright street lamp and paused to open her box. She held the Mirror of Ama – Chicantè with the silver back facing her. She studied the carved tree and the inlaid gold, which made up the harp. The fire looked so alive. The water looked cool and refreshing. She turned the Mirror around so that the foggy glass faced her. She traced with her finger the etchings of the circle and the four crescent moons. Someone had put a lot of care into this piece. They had truly loved this Ama – Chicantè.

She stared at her reflection. It looked different than when she would look in her mirror at home while putting on her makeup. Her light skin looked almost ash colored, her green coat was gray in the reflection, and her bright yellow scarf was black. The scarf was black. She gasped when she made the realization. Then she realized there was no building or light behind her reflection. She turned to see the scene of the street, but it was gone.

“What have I done?” These were her last words that would forever dwell in eternity.

The Professor walked along the street with downcast complexion. He had lost the Mirror he so desperately wished to have. He stopped when he glanced up and saw the figure lying on the concrete ground motionless. He rushed over and saw the Student. He felt for a pulse and found none. She was dead. He looked around and saw an open box, and the Mirror of Ama – Chicantè was nowhere to be found.