Intro: Middle of Season Two. Jacob Stone finally figures out who Jenkins really is, or at least, was. His discoveries are life changing, altering his perception of the role he plays as librarian. Spoiler Alert: If you haven't guessed Jenkin's history, and do NOT want to know, DO NOT READ!
Disclaimer: Not mine. However, you don't need to own the field to play on it.
To say Jacob Stone was happy would be a gross understatement. As his grandfather used to say, he was 'happier than a puppy with two peckers." He found himself deep in the bowels of the library, enjoying his favorite new hobby, researching lost artworks.
Stone had been blessed with many gifts, but had absolutely no artistic talent whatsoever. He couldn't draw a straight line if his life depended on it. Therefore, those gifted with the ability fascinated him. He truly loved the masters, those artists that captured light and shadow, color and substance, to reflect both the real world and the very soul of their subject. He'd spent years studying them, in awe of their talents and imaginations. He now had an unparalleled opportunity to further that research. He'd been shocked to find that the Library had, among its magical artifacts, oil paintings and statues that would rival the catalogues of the Louvre and the Smithsonian.
Just last week, he'd encountered a reference by a previous librarian, in latin, to the 'pictura Medusa succinctus iuvenibus da Vinci' . Stone thought it was a mistake, but wrote down the catalog number anyway. The catalog number led him to a small room further back in the library then he'd ever ventured before. He opened the door and was amazed to see Leonardo da Vinci's unfinished work, Medusa, believed to have been his very first painting; lost for centuries, only to be found in this tiny back room. Except, it wasn't unfinished, and it was moving. He quickly realized that he was looking at a mirrored reflection of the painting, with additional mirrors positioned on the ceiling to reflect the young da Vinci's canvas, hanging on the back of the wall he was now facing. He spent two hours in the presence of the masterpiece, entranced with the woman's glittering eyes and hair full of waving snakes. He had no desire to peek behind the wall at the actual painting. He shuddered to think what the previous librarian had to go through to safely obtain the painting … and how many librarians it might have taken.
He was now tucked in a small cul de sac off the library's main corridor, reading a dusty scroll that was continually referencing Raphael's lost Saint Catherine of Alexandria. He gradually became aware of voices close by. Curious, he set down the scroll and moved out to the main corridor. He counted three voices, only one of them familiar, speaking in archaic French. Shortly, Jenkins emerged from the side hallway, accompanied by an older gentleman and a middle aged, much larger, man.
Jenkins spied Stone and stopped short. "Ahh, Monsieur Stone."
Stone nodded in acknowledgement, his eyebrows lifting in puzzlement. Who in the hell were these guys, and why would Jenkins even consider bringing them here? Wasn't that, like, rule number one for librarians? 'Thou shalt not bring outsiders to work'.
"Giving a tour, Jenkins?"
"More of a reunion, Mister Stone."
Continuing in french, the older stranger asked "Is this one of your new librarians, mon ami?"
Jenkins straightened and responded, "Pardon me, my friends. Allow me to introduce to you Monsieur Jacob Stone, librarian. Mister Stone, I'd like you to meet two very good friends, Monsieurs Le Gallois and de Ganis. They are … er … previous colleagues of mine."
Stone stepped forward and shook the older man's hand firmly. "Monsieur Le Gallois".
"Monsieur Stone. An honor."
He then shook the younger man's callused hand. "Monsieur de Ganis."
"Monsieur Stone. Good luck in all of your future quests".
"Merci. Nice to meet you both." Stone nodded to the threesome as they started the long trek towards the annex. As he turned back to his discarded scroll, he realized something was bothering him, in addition to the strangers' presence. Their names were familiar, but he couldn't remember where he'd heard them before. He also was wondering about the looks in the two men's eyes as he shook their hand. It wasn't sympathy or pity exactly; it was more the look of understanding and shared pain. Were these old, retired librarians? That didn't make sense. He was under the impression that the job of librarian was a lifetime appointment, regardless of how long or short your career happened to be.
Stone hated mysteries and unanswered questions, his curiosity an itch that needed constant scratching. He carefully replaced the scroll and left his nook. He backtracked Jenkins and the other two men's route down an unadorned and dimly lit hallway. At the end he was stopped by a solid looking door. No knob, no key slot marred its surface, no key pad hung on the wall next to it. Dead end. Frustrated, he raised his head to the ceiling and asked "Library? How am I supposed to open the door? Say the magic words?" He looked back at the door and, waving his fingers, intoned "Abra Kadabra! Open sesame!"
To his everlasting astonishment, the door swung open soundlessly. He cautiously entered the room as the lights brightened automatically. The first thing he noticed was a small table and three chairs immediately in front of him. On the table was a half full bottle and three small glasses. He picked up the bottle, uncorked it, and sniffed. He was by no means a connoisseur, and actually preferred a draft beer over any other drink, but this smelled like the best cognac he'd ever encountered. He poured a small sample into one of the used glasses and tried a sip. Wow! Smooth, smoother, smoothest. A warm feeling spread from his center as he continued to look into the room. Some old wooden kneelers were positioned at the end of the room in front of what looked like a shrine. That couldn't be right, though: the shrine had only what looked like a rounded hunk of blackened wood, petrified with age, sitting on a high table.
He looked to his right, and almost dropped the bottle in shock. The wall held the 'Adoration of the Mystic Lamb', the largest and most famous part of van Eyck's Ghent Altarpiece. That was impossible. The large wooden mural had hung in Saint Bavo's Cathedral in Ghent, Belgium for most of its six centuries of existence. It should still be there. He quickly drained his glass and replaced the glass and bottle on the table before approaching the intricately painted wood. Sure enough, his expertise confirmed that this was the original, somehow hanging here in pristine condition. What was it doing here?
He stood there for minutes, still as a statue, just absorbing and enjoying the work of the van Eyck brothers. Four feet tall and more than nine feet across, the painting was spectacular. The lamb and chalice upon the altar, the faces and figures of the supplicants, the angels; all were breathtaking. Some timeless span later, he stepped back, and finally looked at the opposite wall. Three paintings hung there, only one of which he was familiar with. He stepped over to them. The first was one of George Frederic Watts most famous works, and the other two obviously painted by the same hand. He looked at the middle one closely, then the end one. He would have sworn he knew all of Watt's previous works, but he'd never seen these two before. All three portrayed knights with their horses and shields. Looking closely at the right hand one, he noticed an uncanny resemblance of the knight's face to the man he just met, de Ganis.
To say the lightbulb went off for him would be laughably inadequate. It was more of a nuclear explosion inside his head. Now he remembered where he'd heard those names before. OMG. He was looking at a portrait of Sir Bors de Ganis, known as Bors the Younger. Knight of the Round Table, and one of King Arthur's favorites. He turned back to the center portrait, which must be Sir Percival le Gallois. If those two gentlemen were depicted here, that would mean Jenkins was ….
OH. NO WAY! Jenkins? Sir Galais? The sardonic and somewhat bumbling curator of the library, was actually the greatest knight of all time? How was that possible? Still, the only thing these three knights had in common was …
Stone spun around to look at the shrine, his mind overcome with the magnitude and significance of this room. He somehow found himself on the kneelers in front of the shrine, his head bowed low, his eyes brimming with tears. He had no recollection how he'd traveled the twenty feet to the kneelers, and could not imagine any other position to be in right now, except kneeling. His mind couldn't handle the weight of this newfound knowledge. Because, the only thing these three knights had in common was their years long quest for the Holy Grail. Their SUCCESSFUL quest.
Could it be? With trepidation, Stone slowly lifted his eyes to the wooden object on the table. From here he could see it was, indeed, a wooden drinking bowl, worn smooth with use. This was the vessel used by Jesus at the Last Supper. Stone's mind kept repeating, on an endless loop, "Jesus Christ! Jesus Christ! Jesus Christ!". He had no idea if it was a curse or a prayer.
How much suffering did those knights endure to collect this treasure, and at what cost to freely give it to the library? The legends of the grail rolled around in his mind. The myths. The failed quests, All of the deaths, just to locate this holy relic.
He'd always imagined this job as a librarian to be just that … a job. Put it on his resume … student, welder, ditch digger, anonymous writer and art expert, oil rigger, librarian. But it couldn't be, could it? It had to be a calling, an all-pervasive pursuit. These 'artifacts', and this one in particular, weren't historical oddities or interesting items to be gathered and recorded. They were the real deal, objects of such significance that many people would give their life to protect them. Many, undoubtedly, already had. A librarian had to be all the way in, or needed to get out. Now!
Stone stood, and walked out of the room. At the doorway he paused, looked back, and bowed in complete obeisance. He felt three inches tall, unworthy to have been in this room. He turned and walked out, checking to make sure the door closed behind him. He then made his way out to the annex, where he scouted around for Jenkins. He finally found him in his working lab, soldering something. Stone stood quietly in the door watching him for a few minutes, before reciting quietly:
"My good blade carves the casques of men,
My tough lance thrusteth sure,
My strength is as the strength of ten
Because my heart is pure."
Jenkins straightened without looking back at Stone, and commented conversationally "I always found Tennyson to be a miserly, paranoid hypochondriac who was too narcissistic for his own good."
Stone said, "Yeah, but the man had a way with words." As Stone looked at his unmoving back, he asked the older man "So, which do you prefer? Sir Galais? or the better known, Sir Galahad?"
He put down the soldering iron and finally turned halfway towards Stone. "Just Jenkins, Mister Stone. I am content being just Jenkins. Those other men don't exist anymore."
"Men don't change."
"Men might not, but times do. What a man might be in one age is not necessarily what he is in another. Out of context, as it were." Jenkins finally turned completely to look Stone in the eyes. "You know, Mr. Stone, outside of the three of us from the quest, you are the first to ever be admitted into that room. I wonder why?"
"I don't know. Maybe because a big hunk of the Ghent Altar Piece is hanging there, not to mention one of Watts' most famous paintings, Galahad, and two previously unknown works of his. Plus, the other, well, you know! With absolutely NO mention of them in the catalogs, as far as I can tell."
"Easily explained. Actually, during one of our reunions, we commissioned George to paint the three of us. Lovely man. Very talented. It was, after all, long before 'selfies' became popular. He liked the one of me sufficiently to repaint it."
"And the 'Adoration of the Lamb'?"
Jenkins smirked. "There were two van Eyck brothers, Mister Stone. They, too, painted an additional copy. I understand they are virtually identical. I believe 1433 was a very busy year for them."
Stone continued to stare at the man he thought he'd known, at least until about an hour ago, when he realized he really hadn't known him at all. He asked the question foremost in his mind. "So, our nemesis from the Serpent Brotherhood, du Lac, is actually your Pops?"
Jenkins sighed. "Friends we can pick and choose. Family, not so much. A fact, I trust, you are particularly aware of." At Stone's nod, Jenkins walked up to him, and asked "Mister Stone, I trust my personal secrets are safe with you?" At yet another nod, Jenkins requested curiously "Jacob? What did you feel when you were in that room. I mean, Percival and Bors and I relive memories, it's actually personal history for us. You, however, are the first outsider to enter there. What was it like?"
Stone thought about it for a moment. "It was humbling. Inspiring. I was so awestruck, and felt unworthy the whole time. I felt the consequence of what we do here, in the library, for the first time, like the whole weight of the world descended on my shoulders. Then I thought of what you three knights went through to acquire the cup, and I thought of its first owner, and what He went through, and felt that weight partially lift from me, as if it were a burden shared."
Jenkins smiled, his eyes soft. "And that, Mister Stone, is undoubtedly why you were given access to that room."
Jenkins then turned back to whatever it was he'd been doing, and Stone left his lab, more at ease as a Librarian than ever before.
- Finis -
A/N: Hope you liked it. As always, reviews are always appreciated! And yes, Caskett fans, I will finish my on going stories.