Mythlands: Mythical Origins

13. A Most Peculiar Gathering

For a moment I expect the hood, but all I am offered is a helping hand, and the driver's words. 'We are here.'

Where is here? A grand estate, deep within the countryside - the manse pillared and of a classic structure to be found within England, and the England of my time ... perhaps slightly older, no less. But this in itself is no indicator, as these lands of Myth are rife with the Gothic, the Baroque, aesthetics of many times, many places ... many stories.

Around me, I see other men in black - drivers/escorts, and their charges. Charles Dickens calls out a cheery greeting. There are others ... four to be precise. Soon I will know them, the painter, the detective, the old playwright and the new. Disappointingly Tolstoy is not among their number.

A tall man, dressed as a valet or butler in the English style of the 1920's or 30's welcomes us. He is slim, handsome and clean shaven, with his black hair slicked back.

'Ah gentlemen!' he greets us. 'Do come in, out of the cold. Tea and refreshments will be served in the drawing room. May I take your hats and coats?'

 The three Englishman and the Irish playwright react with all the good will of gentlemen, but the Italian who is the oldest of us all, angrily demands that the host present himself immediately.

The butler calms him with a few soothing words, and assures us that his master will reveal himself shortly thereafter.

Do I know this smooth fellow? It has been ... what will the year be, back in the mortal realm we all came from (A sidebar: five of us were real. Is this significant?) ... 2019, I believe? Seventy some years since I arrived here, for my second life. A tad over ten years more than I was granted in my first!

I have read much, become aware of much and travelled extensively, these Mythlands. It could be I know the butler, but perhaps this knowledge would not help, as so much has changed for so many of us. The eldest English gentlemen, like us he wears suits of a more modern cut but his facial grooming is distinct ... I unconsciously begin to stroke my own long beard, forgetting that I have been clean shaven for some years.

The hawk nosed detective has spoken ... he asked the butler for his name and was answered. The detective snorts and declares he knows the identity of our host, but he is disappointed.

'I am afraid, Sirs,' Jeeves answers, as he opens the door to the drawing room, '...that my previous employer has passed on, some years ago. I now work for another gentleman. Please be seated. I shall return momentarily.'

THE BOOK

After the most excellent tea and crumpets, Jeeves directed us to a grand dining room where each of us were shown to a specific seat . Apparently our identities not being instantly known, was part of the game and it appeared a source of amusement to our host. We were forbidden from introductions at present, though naturally I recognized them all and ironically the one fellow writer who I had not known by sight or previous acquaintance, had been introduced to me during the blunder that caused us to be seated together aboard the plane. 

This got me thinking - was the character of our mysterious host, a wrathful one? Would he be punishing those underlings who had facilitated the mistake, or was it yet unknown to him?

Jeeves served a rather fine sherry and placed a tray with a key and an old red leatherbound book upon the table. Naturally this caught our attention until he distracted us with a statement and a question.

'Welcome one and all, to The Hall. My master has long been a fan of your various writings and art. He feels such illustrious company ought now to be known to each other, but not through such a mundane process as simple introductions.'