Sarayu was dreaming that she was sitting by the fireplace with a little red dragon.
Those three drops of ancient Elixir were quite something. It must be a little baby Welsh dragon.
She yawned and rubbed her eyes. The little red dragon did not go away.
This must be one of those dreams where you think that you wake up but are still sleeping.
She rubbed her eyes again. The little red dragon was still there, and had a rather dopey grin on its face. It was looking straight at her, like a dog begging for a bone.
She got up from the armchair and went over to the stove. The little red dragon followed her.
OK, I’m dreaming about being followed by a little red dragon in an old oak cottage down a rabbit hole, after having drank some of the goddess Ceridwen’s magic potion. Nothing unusual there. Maybe I can find some dragon food.
Just as she thought that thought, her eyes caught sight of a green, red and white box that said “Dragon Cookies.”
Hmmm? Maybe it will like some of these?
She took the box and gave the little red dragon some of the cookies. It loved them and begged for more.
Where is Alphonse?
At that moment the door opened and in came Alphonse, together with Ceridwen and a strange old man with a long white beard.
“I see you have made acquaintance with Pendragon.” said Ceridwen.
“We were down the pub, Cherie.” said Alphonse.
“Myrddin Wyllt at your service.” said Old Wilt.
“The Myrddin Wyllt?” asked Sarayu.
“You have heard of me?” Old Wilt was flattered to know his fame had indeed spread beyond the Otherworld.
“Of course. You are Merlin, or half of him at least.”
“There is another half of me somewhere?”
“Yes. He is called Emrys.”
Old Wilt was not quite sure how he felt about being just a half of Merlin. Alphonse had been telling him about time travel in the pub. They seemed an odd lot, these time travelers, he thought. Alphonse had tried to explain the grandfather paradox to him.
“You had better not kill your grandfather, young lady.” he said to Sarayu.
“Otherwise you will not be here, and Alphonse will have to go and search for you.”
Sarayu thought that maybe the potion would wear off soon and she would find herself in Cardiff, listening to her mother’s old Beatles collection.
I would never kill our Gran!
Old Wilt poured himself another mug of Ceridwen’s mead, and sat by the fire, farted, burped, and lit his pipe.
“I come from Cardiff and love my Gran, and would never dream of killing her.” said Sarayu.
“Cardiff?” Old Wilt looked puzzled.
“It’s west of Caerleon, where the Romans built a fort.” said Ceridwen.
“You’re not one of those Romans?” asked Myrddin. “One of those Isca Augusta people? They used to have good wine, I remember.”
“No, I’m Welsh.”
“Don’t worry, dear. Old Myrddin always babbles when he’s on the mead.” said Ceridwen.
“Babble my arse!” mumbled Mryddin.
“You have a nice dragon.” said Sarayu.
“It’s her’s.” said Myrddin. “It’s alright as long as it gets enough of those cookies.”
Ceridwen was beginning to think that this conversation would go on for ages. She went over to one of the bookshelves and pulled out an old leather bound folio.
“Alphonse, do you have a moment?”
They sat down at the kitchen table, and she opened the folio, and passed it to him.
“Hamlet. First edition.” she said. Alphonse was impressed. He had in his hand the 1623 Shakespeare First Folio. The Q2 of 1604/5 was published earlier, but still a First Folio in a private collection was quite something. She went over to the bookshelf again and took a wooden chest from the top shelf, and put it on the table. Opening the chest, she took out an ancient codex that was wrapped in a cloth made of hemp.
“Here it is.” she said. “The Newton Codex.”
Alphonse opened the codex. “Theatrum Chemicum”, said the title page.
“Newton’s notes are at the back.” said Ceridwen.
His Latin was a bit rusty, but Alphonse recognized the handwriting straight away. It was Newton’s. In the back of the codex were several pages written by Newton on the nature of the philospher’s stone.
“Would you like a Welsh whisky?”
“Make it a large one, please.”
The secret of the stone. Jeova sanctus unus. That was the anagram Newton used for his name in Latin, Isaacus Neutonus.
As Alphonse sipped his whisky and read the Newton Codex, Ceridwen kept a watchful eye on Pendragon, Myrddin and Sarayu. Never mind the stone, she thought, I am curious to see what effect my Elixir had on Sarayu.
Sarayu was making friends with the little red dragon. Old Wilt had fallen asleep by the fire. In less than a week it would be Solstice Eve. Ceridwen knew that Alphonse and Sarayu had to return to their own world soon. She hoped she could find a way to bring them back in time for the solstice. A lot would depend on it. Sarayu was special, as was her destiny. Ceridwen had been in the Otherworld far too long. It was time to visit Newton’s descendants.
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