Episode 2.7

Introduction

Welcome to The Phosphene Catalogue no. # 15027

We see light where others see only darkness.

Though we try to avoid lots being sold or otherwise removed ahead of public display and auction, there are occasions when this is not possible.
This can occur due to external or internal forces, and this week both have exerted... pressure on our usual plans.
Our sincere apologies to those Readers who hoped to view Lot No. 18115 "The Garden" last week in The Woolf Room, only to discover upon arriving that it had been removed.
Normally, we would have telephoned to cancel, but our secretary was unavailable during this time.

Weren't you, Morwenna...

Additionally, Lot No. 7870 "Golden Oracle", was sold to a private collector ahead of being advertised in The Catalogue itself.
We would like to discourage Readers from making speculative offers, please wait for the weekly auction held in the large Entrance Lobby of our building on Fridays at midnight. I made an exception in this case as the buyer's offer simply could not be refused.

Morwenna, I wish you were around to deal with Aldwick instead of hiding in the vaults with Jo's painting of "The Garden".
He had no appointment, and returned JUST as you disappeared down the iron spiral staircase. It's like he KNEW you'd be gone...
His offer far exceeded the client's stated minimum, and the two porters he brought with him crated up the golden tapestry very quickly.
I could hear it clacking away in the darkness of the box as they left. You'll think me daft, but I thought it sounded... scared? Like there was a certain desperation in the bursts of its clacking calculations.

If the haunted machine was afraid, it wasn't the only one. Quite apart from how being in Aldwick's presence makes me feel, the two porters who accompanied him gave me the willies!
They were so UGLY!
Not ugly like a gargoyle is ugly, more primal than that. Ugly like a rusted scalpel, or a teller's sweet smile as they refuse your request, or a rifle pointed at a blindfolded prisoner...

So, yeah: What I put in the Catalogue is true: Without you to work your magic on him, Aldwick's offer simply could not be refused.

Side A: Morgan Le Fey

Lot No. 8330. "Morgan Le Fey", Jacob Sprenger, 1496. A 3-volume codex set bound in leather.

Compiled in Strasbourg during the year after the author's death, this one-of-a-kind collection represents a unique insight into both peasant folklore and official Church demonology of the late 15C.

Our client submitted the volumes a month ago, but due to the breadth of the work, it has taken some time to follow the paper trail of previous owners.
Frankly, most of my time this month has been taken up in simply READING the three volumes of this collection!
Though I have forgotten more German than I have ever learned, with a copy of the Walpurga Press German-English dictionary at my elbow, my late nights of study eventually bore fruit.

The covers of each of the large books in the set are of identical size and construction: Dark brown leather with a large carved ivory window inset on each of the fronts.
The bindings of the collection is exquisite, and of a much higher and more consistent quality than the pages inside. Though Sprenger wrote nearly every page, these books were compiled by A. Mentelin, an unknown contemporary who describes themselves in the brief introduction to the first volume as a family friend who wished to honour the work that occupied Jacob's last years.

Readers may well have heard of the author, Jacob Sprenger, by association with the infamous book, "Malleus Mallefacarum", known in English as "The Hammer of Witches" and published in the same year.

However: Warrick Blackwood, our historian, told me, and not with a small amount of indignation, that Sprenger had nothing to do with this "Bloody handbook of witch-burning" (as he called it). The Malleus was written and published by Heinrich Kramer, and it would only be in later printings, 33 years later, that Sprenger's name appeared as co-author. As Sprenger seems to have taken every opportunity to denounce Kramer and ban the book, this lends weight to Warrick's conclusion that Kramer used his rival's name to improve his own PR.
This delightful fact reminds us, dear Reader, that what is old is new again, and business never changes.

Most Readers of the Catalogue will know of the book's subject, Morgan Le Fey, from Arthurian legends. These Celtic stories evolved and changed over time, and, though varying slightly depending on which version one reads, by the 12C she had been established in the canon as King Arthur's supernatural elder half-sister, such as in the well-known edition, "Le Morte d'Arthur".

Sprenger's 3-volume collection represents one man's attempt to catalogue and redefine the history of the mythological Morgan: Her movements, actions, relationships, and even speculations on the nature of the Fey.
The lives of these Fair Folk, according to the author, are bound by both powerful magics and strict rules. The books go into detail of their supernatural power, restricted by a web of covenants.
The greatest defence man has against such creatures is our imagination, the author repeats often; that which makes our artwork magic, and a capability totally alien to these Fey, who can't dream for themselves.

The three volumes in the set are titled, "Mädchen", Mutter, and "Zauberin".

Warrick DELIGHTED in helping me research this one, Morwenna, it was RIGHT up his street! But his notes contained an almost comical mistake: He translated the titles of the 3 volumes as "Maiden", "Mother", and "Crone". He's almost right. I think he translated the first two and thought he knew where the author was going with the names, and made a thematic assumption.
As you can imagine, I have reminded him of this mistake at EVERY opportunity, it is simply too delicious to pass up!

"Zauberin" does NOT mean "Crone". It means "Enchantress".

The first volume, "Mädchen", discusses Morgan's history before her appearance in 5th-century Arthurian Britain.
The second, "Mutter" is given over to a fairly standard retelling of the Arthurian tales she appears in.
However, the final volume, "Zauberin" deviates wildly from established canon. In it, Sprenger details, with quite a hoard of circumstantial evidence, Morgan's influence in the centuries leading up to and including the contemporary, at the time, 13th Century.
Or, at least, the influence of this person who called themselves Morgan.

Are you getting all this, Morwenna? This is the book that I told you about last week that has opened my eyes, somewhat.
In the final volume, "Zauberin", "Enchantress", Sprenger gives examples of Morgen's influence in modern life, and most interesting to me, identifies some OTHER names she has gone by, such as:
Morgane,
Morgant,
Morguein
Morganna, and,
MORWENNA.

I have accepted a lot of help from you, and made many promises, which, thanks to Jacob Sprenger, I believe is how your folk operate, trading in favours, right? I realised I've never seen the contract for my employment here at The Phosphene Catalogue, and I wonder what it contains...

The last time we spoke, when I asked you some of these things directly, you brushed me off with a promise that you'd explain all to me in time. Well, I'm now calling in that vow:

You and I are going to have a talk.

Intermission

Hi folks, Tris here, writer of The Phosphene Catalogue.
If you're interested in updates about Season 3 and more: Stay tuned after the credits at the end of the episode.

OK! Side B.

Side B: Mariners' Risk

Lot No. 23012. "Mariners' Risk", Sarah Porter, 1976, Oil on Canvas, driftwood composite frame.

Readers may recall that "Sirens" (the last painting auctioned by the artist in issue #15021) came with a caution to bring waterproof footwear due to the signature damp conditions her paintings manifest.
In a break with this norm, Mariners' Risk has left my office mercifully dry this week!

I am very glad to be able to look at Sarah's work in peace and privacy.

Though the sea features prominently, as with much of Miss Porter's work, in this piece there is far more human detail.

The composition is painted from the perspective of the shoreline, a beach, even, at low tide; bright-green seaweed matted over the sand and shingle. An estuary, perhaps, with three small cargo ships, their white-sailed outlines drifting lazily across the frame. In the bottom-left are two people wearing heavy aprons, standing next to a rowing boat, drawn safely out of the water. Stacked inside it are a pile of lobster pots.
These rope-mesh boxes have a funnel on one side leading in to the trap. The unsuspecting crustacean crawls in to get to the bait inside, but cannot escape due to the clever design of the portal.
Just like love, dear Reader, it's easy to get yourself entangled, but far harder to get out, and before you know it, you may find yourself in hot water.

Most of the composition remains of the sea. The two figures occupy just a few inches of the frame, and even the ships are dwarfed by the calm waters that surround them. The mirror-like surface is an impressive demonstration that in mastering the opalescent translucency of a turbulent sea in her other works, the artist retains absolute command of light above the waves, too.

A small diversion, if the reader will permit: I was talking to Harriet Mira about this painting earlier today over tea (she was interested in the leaves, I was more interested in the caffeine).
Miss Mira told me that her grandfather was a fisherman in Cornwall, and his opinion was that nearly all lobsters actually escape these traps:
He thought that whole pods of lobsters wander in and out as they fancy over the course of a day or two, perhaps tasting the bait but then moving on to something better.
The lobsters are caught almost randomly - an unfortunate animal simply happens to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.
From the point of view of the fisherman, lobsters are caught nearly all of the time. From the point of view of the lobster, it's only occasionally dangerous.
Fisherman call the populations of lobsters in and around their pots a 'risk' of lobsters, which is apt.
The reward, as in many of life's choices, might be worth the risk.

During their appointment, Readers may be forgiven for thinking we have installed specialist lighting to display Mariners' Risk in The Pentire Room, but we have not. Sunlight glows from this painting, not in hot shafts cutting out into the room, but in a comforting haze of gold.
Unlike in "Forest Spirit", Lisanne Van Veld's master work, the honey-yellow light from Sarah's - Miss Porter's - painting does not burn or blind, but warms and comforts me as I touch the white driftwood frame here at my desk.

She's so clever

Driftwood is a blend of human and nature: The living tree is hewn into the plank, assembled into the boat, reclaimed by the sea and then repurposed by man.

Beyond the white-sailed ships are hints of dark clouds just over the horizon, but I see in Mariners' Risk that wild nature can be tamed, and people can be re-wilded, and both are better for the transformation.

Morwenna, I've been sitting here in my office appraising Sarah's painting for nearly an hour, and I've just realised...
I think Sarah made this FOR ME!

She painted it in the workshop we shared above our - my - Mulberry Street Gallery. One afternoon, I noticed that she was often leaning around the canvas, studying me. When I caught her doing this, she ducked back, and I'm sure her face was red!

She put me - us - into this painting: Two people sharing their work and, perhaps (now that I see a hint of their fingers curled together) their lives, in simple, comfortable, happiness...
MORWENNA I'VE GOT TO -

PHEW! OK, I'm back.
Right!
Painting.
Appraisal.
Valuation...?

No, Morwenna, look: I'm just going to have to tell you what happened.
I had to find Sarah myself. I had been thoughtless, and cowardly, and stupid, but also... scared.
I rushed out of the building and fought my way past the tourists down into the District line and then to Temple station. I half-remembered that Sarah had an exhibition today and so ran from the station to The Solomon Gallery. At the ticket office I asked when the artist would be attending, but the man on the desk told me that Sarah Porter was unwell today and would not be available.
Unwell! Could our falling-out (professional or... whatever it was) have hurt her as much as I now realise it had hurt me, I wondered?
I didn't stop to catch my breath, I ran back to the underground and boarded a train heading west - to Sarah's flat in Bayswater, heart now also rushing with a tiny, silly, hope.

I had never visited Sarah before, I thought until today I never would, but followed my address book to one of the identical whitewashed houses on Inverness Terrace. I must have looked such a state when I arrived, the kindly landlady showed me up without a second question!

Sarah answered the door wearing overalls so splashed with multicoloured paint that it seemed almost polka-dot. She did look tired, but smiled just for a second as she recognised me, and then frowned. "Jude?" she said, and then, "What are you..." - I talked over her, terrified that I wouldn't be able to say all I needed, if we started arguing again.

It all came out in a muddle:
"Artists are bad company," I began, "everyone knows it. The seasons of mania and depression that drive us to the highest of inspiration ALSO make us truly miserable partners."
Sarah crossed her arms at this, it was going badly, I could tell. I talked faster, hoping to avoid the inevitable conflict for as long as possible.
"It's always been the same for me," I continued, and told her my history of misadventures in love, how I was always the one to break off the relationships, and that it was always, always, my fault.
I had to stop for air, my side was hurting terribly from all the running.
I didn't notice, then, that the landlady had politely left us to it. We were alone in the hallway.

Sarah still hadn't spoken, which unnerved me, she was standing there with a frown, listening and waiting. I didn't know what more to say. I'd assumed we would be shouting at each other by this point, and so hadn't planned quite so far ahead.
As the silent moments stretched out, I tried to remember all of the unsaid words that had hung between us in that taxi ride months ago. Those words seemed all so meaningful, so powerful, but none of them would change a thing.
"I'm sorry." I found myself saying, my well of explanations having run dry.
Which, in hindsight, was all Sarah was waiting for.
She stepped forward onto the soft hallway carpet, her door clicking closed behind her, curled a hand around mine and kissed me.
"Apology accepted." She said, and I realised everything I just told her didn't need to be true.

Morwenna I feel so daft.
We've got a date set for tonight, after she's finished with her installation, and I've completed the paperwork here for this week's lots. I've got SO much to do before then, Aldwick has another viewing which he's requested that I, PERSONALLY, attend, which I don't suppose I can get out of, and then before then -

Oh! Morwenna! I couldn't find you! Nice dress, is that new? I have AMAZING NEWS, Sarah, um, s-Sarah...
Morwenna, are you seeing this, too?

• Wait, what is happening?
• Where are we?
• Is that... Edie?
• I don't care about the Gate
• There's more than one?
• I AM AWARE nothing's as it seems: I HAVE BEEN PAYING ATTENTION YOU KNOW!
• Right, no fear: I didn't trust Aldwick OR those two men in the first plcae
• Why do I need protecting from him?
• tell me
• TELL ME FOR PETE'S SAKE!

A Talk with Morwenna: Jude Has Read about how the Fey Are neither Good nor Bad, but Have Their Own Incomprehensible Machinations

Morwenna, I'd like to thank you for making good on your promise to fill me in on all the little details I've been asking about.
I DON'T thank you for HOW you conducted our long-promised interview.

I can't remember everything, not in the right order, certainly. We were in The Garden. I wasn't sleeping, right, this is something different?
The transition was slow, I remember realising my desk was suddenly standing on grass, the paintings hanging on the walls of my office expanded and the scenes in them became larger and larger until we were inside them.

I recognised the river babbling next to me from my dreams, and the grass, and the tall twisted trees above me. There was a long wooden table set up for a tea party, wasn't there? I recognised Edie and her mum sitting at the end, heads together, immersed in conversation.
That was bittersweet - do they see each other often? Oh, how could you know. Or maybe you do?
I couldn't get to them, though. When I moved it was like moving through treacle, I couldn't seem to get away from my desk. I called out, but they couldn't hear me either. You explained why, I know, but your exact words have slipped off my memories, somehow.

You told me about The Voyagers, didn't you?
So they ARE trying to learn about the Gates in The Garden, but not for the same reason as you? You're protecting them from... what? I feel like you told me everything... but it's nearly all GONE now.
Let's just have a chat over a cuppa next time, love?

You know what IS burned into my memory? Your dress made of leaves constantly growing and dying, then sprouting again all along the length of it. That cluster of roses on your shoulder, swaying in a breeze that I couldn't feel. The way you seemed both to tower over the twisted trees, but also like you were looking up at me.

"You're not made to understand our world." you told me. That's for certain, I can't piece together everything, it makes me giddy just thinking about it.

But I've got to ask, If you really are King Arthur's sister, apprentice of Merlin, Immortal queen of Avalon - what are you doing running an auction house in east London?
There are things going on here in this building that I still don't understand.
What ELSE is in your Vaults?

God! What now?

Come in!

Oh, Andrew, yes, what do you want?
What's this? Speak up, lad!

Charming. It's a... card: "Have you forgotten our appointment"...

Morwenna, this is the same card and same pencil handwriting as the ones attached to some lots in the vaults, those "for your collection" ones.
Aldwick... gave? you some of those lots? How do you two know each other? Who IS he?

Wait. Shit, is that the time?

HOW were you and I talking for 3 hours? It's past 5 now! I'll have to call the restaurant and get them to tell Sarah I'm held up.

I've got to go, I'll finish this another day. I'm indeed late (AGAIN) for that appointment with Lord Aldwick.

I hope the old dragon doesn't bite my head off.

CREDITS

That's a wrap for season 2! Stay tuned after the credits for updates!

The Phosphene Catalogue is a NAMTAO production.

• The voice of Jude Francis-Sharp is Wolfie Thorns,
• The voice of Morwenna recorded by Babylon Horuv
• The voice of Andrew Waring is the sound of my bedroom door
• The show is written and produced by me, Tris Oaten.

It's all made possible by the generous support of our patrons at patreon.com/phosphencatalogue, and especially our Art Producer,

• Stephen McCandless

For links to our merch store, the music, and mastodon account, check out the podcast's website,
https://phosphenecatalogue.com

And now, the end-of-season updates:

Firstly, a huge thank you from Wolfie and me to the hundreds of listeners who have tuned in every fortnight, it truely is wonderful to tell our story to so many of you lovely people!
If I'm reading the numbers correctly, the audience has doubled since season 1, which means that whatever you, listener are doing to spread the word is working, keep it up please!

Podcasts live and die on word of mouth, there are no algorithms here, they are the tools of the enemy, we don't need them we won't use them. BUT... A nice review on whatever service you're listening to this right now would be immeasurably helpful, thank you.

Would you like to chat with other fans about what the heck Aldwick is up to, or if the Vaults really DO go under the river all the way to the sea? If so, come and chat on our public discord, Wolfie and I drop in from time to time too! Link on phosphenecatalogue.com.

I have FINALLY updated our merch store with the season 2 designs and they look great on teepublic's lovely t-shirts, hoodies, stickers, magnets, mugs, and yes, even tapestries.
Want one of these for free? Master and Producer patrons can pick ANYTHING from the store as a welcome gift! Yes, even the expensive stuff!

Wolfie and I are discussing Season 3, and have great plans for the show. (Jude has almost nothing to worry about!). But why not tell us what you loved most about the show so far, come say hi on discord or mastodon or DM us on the patreon.

Patrons of Journeyman and higher, expect bonus episodes soon, and we wish everyone an excellent New Year.
Keep an eye out for Aldwick's ugly couriers,

The Catalogue will return!