“…and that concludes the tour, the library will be closing in 10 minutes, so if you want to take some quick last snaps now is the time, I hope you enjoyed your visit and recommend us to your friends, thanks again”, a short applause from the small tour group followed Niamh’s concluding comments. She was new to the job, an intelligent student of history temping as a tour guide at Marsh’s Library on Patrick’s Street for a few months. She enjoyed her work and was popular with the staff, who thought so much of her as to let her lock up the library on her own for the first time that night.
Related Stories:
The Glimmer Man’s Tales Part 6 – The Acre’s Resurrection
The Glimmer Man’s Tales Part 5 – Lord Norbury (The Hanging Judge & The Cabra Hound)
The Glimmer Man’s Tales Part 3 – Darkey Kelly
The Glimmer Man’s Tales Part 2 – Billy In The Bowl
The Glimmer Man’s Tales Part 1 – A Pig Faced Woman
For her part, Niamh loved the library. She adored the curved stone steps that were besieged by either side with leafy shrubs that she climbed every morning on her way to the main entrance. She loved the grand room with its chandelier and how it seemed to be hallowed out of a giant oak tree, the long hall with its rows of dark wooden cabinets filled with books from centuries gone. The library seemed like a quite, forested oasis compared to the busy Patrick’s Street outside. She was particularly proud that she was trusted so early on to lock up the library on that windy autumn night.
Niamh was walking down the aisles of the library when she spotted a rather broad man sitting down wearing a cap, he was reading a copy of “Melmoth the Wanderer”. “Excuse me sir, we don’t allow members of the public to handle the books and it’s nearly time to lock up, so I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask you to leave”, the large man peered up, his dark eyebrows lowered, he let out an acknowledging if annoyed grunt.
Niamh continued towards the office where a warm cup of tea was beckoning, she pondered for a minute…that man was not on the tour, where did he come from? She turned around but the man was gone. “Spritely little fecker” she thought to herself, unexpectedly a cold breeze blew through the library, it completely unnerved Niamh who wondered has to its source. The library was now empty of visitors, the loneliness of the long hall and the growing autumn darkness at the windows prompted Niamh to move quickly to the security of her office and that warm cup of tea. The office was a small room just off the main library, little more than a cloakroom with a table, two chairs and a kettle. Niamh sat there sipping at the lukewarm tea, a little spooked but gradually convincing herself that the old place had tricked her and that there was nothing untoward there.
Her tea now finished, she proceeded back into the main library and began to lock up. As she was slowly walking between the rows of cabinets insuring that each book was secured safely on the shelves, she began to hear a gentle whispering. It was a collage of tones, ranging from high to deep, in heavy conversation. She stopped as did the whispering, Niamh was certain that she had heard hushed tones, she did her best to listen but nothing, the place was silent. Niamh was now unsettled, she felt that there was something else in that long room with her, the dim side lamps were now all that was illuminating the room, as evening had finally, succumbed to night.
She continued along her route, doing her best to put what had just happened out of her mind. She went to table were the large man with the cap had been sitting and placed “Melmoth the Wanderer” back where it had been on the shelf, sitting snug with its associates back on the cabinet. Suddenly, there it was again, whispering, an exchange of voices, but this time she could make out words, “where, where is it?”, it was a deep tone resonating from some cavernous unseen throat.
“Who…who’s there? The museum is closed now, whoever you are, you have to go” Niamh’s voice trembled as she spoke these words. Once again, there was silence in the library, an eerie stillness in the long dark hall. As she now walked, slowly, peering into avenue upon avenue of shelves, no longer worried about whether the books were placed in their correct locations she was worried only about some new unseen problem. By the fourth row, as before she stared into the dimly lit row, she saw nothing in it but books, untouched and undisturbed for years, she began to relax. Then it happened. A noise that made her heart jump from her rib cage straight to her mouth, for a time all she could hear was the reverberated echo around her. A slamming bang, shattering the dense silence that had occupied the room. Immediately, she hid her head in between her hands terrified what would be revealed when she looked up. The courage in her stomach finally, rose in Niamh to raise her head out of her palms. She looked down the long hallway, perfectly, in the centre of the room, lay a solitary book.
She slid back behind a row of books and began to cry a little, she knew it was impossible, that book could not have travelled so far if it fell naturally, she knew it was impossible. As she sat there sobbing quietly in that lonely library, she began to hear the whispers again, “where is it?! Where is it?!”, she let out a yell “Go Away! I don’t know what you want! Go Away!…Please!” this last word Niamh barely blurbed out. The whispers once again ceased, now threading footsteps echoed from the furthest point of Niamh’s position, they were moving heavily and slowly at first but began to pick up speed towards her. “GO AWAY!” Niamh screamed at the top of her voice, silence befell the library once more, no footsteps, no whispering. After a time of what felt like a watched silence, Niamh once more stepped up and out in the main hallway. Nothing, everything in front of her eyes was as it should be, the book had gone from the centre of the floor, the hallway was has it had been for centuries past.
Niamh stood in the middle of the library facing the back exit staring blankly as the books around her kept silent vigil, they were the audience to her trauma, unflinching, uncaring but never the less watching, as she stood there sewn to the floor.
The room was silent, she could hear herself breath heavily from the agitation of before. Eventually, Niamh began to turn round to see the other length of the hallway. Gradually, around the room her view becoming panoramic for a moment until her rotation was complete. In front her, levitating 5 feet from the ground were three books in a perfect row, not swaying, still as if some invisible shelf held them. Niamh screamed, her eyes closed as all the air from her lungs flew out, two of the books dropped to the ground, the third flew at her with such force that it knocked her clean out.
A beautiful melody slowly meandering on an unseen violin woke Niamh. It was sad yet fluid, the sound filled the room. This melancholic tune began to revive her consciousness, she realised she could not move her legs nor arms, they were fixed perfectly straight. She looked down in a daze and could see the floor below her, pinned to the wall her feet not touching the ground. The phantom violin continued to play its deep noted tragic air as Niamh looked down the length of the room, helpless, unable to move. The unused ornate chandelier, which hung in the centre of the room was fully ablaze, giving a warm glow.
The violin began a slow waltz, while still remaining loyal to its original melody. The books one by one left their shelf and began to sway in pairs, swaying romantically to the music. Niamh was transfixed by this unholy event, unable to move, unable to make a sound, so terrified that she did not feel any pain from the book that had been hurled at her. Gradually, the pace of the waltz picked up speed as the books danced and danced, interweaving between rows, dancing in and out, faster and faster. Then whispers started over the now fevered tune, “where…where…where?”. Niamh began to rise further up the wall, dragged rigid by an unseen hand, “where?! Where?”, all she could do was softly murmur to herself.
The dancing books, in old fashion courtesy broke from their pairs and took to either side of the hallway. The violin stopped playing the waltz. There was silence and the great dance had stopped, as the books hovered silently in a guard of honour formation in great anticipation. Then the violin started again, it played “The Wedding March” as two books, side by side floated, slowly passing the silent guard, up the hallway towards Niamh whose face was now sore from crying. “Whereee….?!”
“Enough Narcissus!”. At the other end of the room stood the wide man in a cap that earlier Niamh had spied pawing at the library’s books. “Let it go you fool! It’s over, your small mindedness, your pettiness, your arrogance, your damn dictatorship! These are the reasons you destroyed your relationship with your niece, let that girl go, she did nothing to you! Forget your letter, it’s far too late now!” the old man snarled at the unseen presence. The books turned in unison, following their master’s command, and hurled themselves at the old man who quickly dived behind a cabinet. He emerged with a lit candle, so bright it caused Niamh to whence. She suddenly felt free and slumped to the floor, the books returned at pace to their shelves, the chandelier went out and the room returned to its dimly lit beginnings.
“What was that?! Niamh sobbed, “that was Narcissus Marsh let me tell you his story, you see I am the Glimmer man, a lamplighter, I travel the streets of Dublin banishing the ancient horrors of the dark with the light on my candlestick, I witness the…”, “I know his story” Niamh interrupted. The Glimmer man was knocked off kilter, he never had been interrupted before, “you do?” he replied questioningly.
Niamh got up from the floor and pushed the tears from her eyes, “yes I’m a tour guide here, I know his story well, he was an archbishop of Dublin and Provost of Trinity, when he opened this library, can we get to the entrance please I need to get out of here” she continued as they walked “it was the first public library in the 32 counties. The legend of his story goes that he was a man of high breeding and he didn’t want his niece, Grace, who was in his care, to marry a lowly vicar, who she loved”. Niamh was now regaining some of her confidence as she found comfort in replaying her role as tour guide. “She wrote Marsh a letter professing her love for the vicar, stating that they were to be married and eloping, the letter also said goodbye to her uncle and that she forgave him for the trouble he had caused. Grace placed the letter into one of the books for Narcissus to find after the marriage had been finalised, however, he never did. The story goes that his spirit haunts the library searching for the book”. Niamh had finished her tale and now had connected the dots has to what had happened to her, who she was threatened by and what he was looking for, she shivered again.
“Very good, you know your facts, he was then and his now a pretentious old fool, he had his good points but he allowed arrogance to blind him, no one is born better than another, different maybe, never better” the Glimmer Man smiled. Niamh had begun to open the door to let them both out, she stopped and turned to him, “How did you do that thing with the light? Who are you? How did you know him? He’s dead three hundred years!” Niamh now fully remembered all that had taken place and had begun to come out of her shock. “I was of his time, I remember him, well meaning by times but arrogant always. The candle is not mine but a duty I must carry out, I carry it to make amends, I was a soldier back then, on the wrong side of the wrong war about to do the wrong thing but enough of that now” he put on his cap and walked out the door. Niamh thought he looked very ordinary to be soldier, big maybe but he just seemed an old man with a cap, then she realised what he said, “you were a soldier three hundred years ago?!” she looked out the door but there was no one there, except a few seldom passing taxis. Niamh locked the door headed up quickly towards Thomas Street. It would be the last time she gave a tour in Marsh’s Library.
Related Stories:
The Glimmer Man’s Tales Part 6 – The Acre’s Resurrection
The Glimmer Man’s Tales Part 5 – Lord Norbury (The Hanging Judge & The Cabra Hound)
The Glimmer Man’s Tales Part 3 – Darkey Kelly
The Glimmer Man’s Tales Part 2 – Billy In The Bowl
The Glimmer Man’s Tales Part 1 – A Pig Faced Woman
