The Reliquary from Pibloktoq by Luminous Veil

1. The Reliquary

In the late part of the 14th century, the appearance of Norse traders began to decline in Greenland. Its climate was cooling and this chill was only reasonable for the infrequent commerce of whalers. It is believed that the natives preferred these circumstances insofar as it meant the protection of land, culture, and people. For it was that in the first quarter of the 18th century, Denmark monopolized all trade with the island, establishing private industry and Lutheran missions. A Eurocentric shadow was cast over the Greenlandic Inuit. The rising colonization nurtured an alienation from the land and its plentiful resources. The natives were long skeptical of the European foundations.
The shores remain closed. Now, very few foreign nationalities pass through those icy fjords. Thus, when an expedition of English researchers was afforded entrance, Professor Graham Evans heeded the divine calling. The year is 1874.

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Letter from Prof. Graham Evans to his fiancé Ruth Wingrove. Dated the 25th of October, 1874.

My Dearest Ruth,
It has been but a short time since my departure. Yet, this has rendered my heart longing for you. Even still, I will spare you the burden of worry, as I know the season demands heavily upon the apothecary. To this point, I trust my gloom is the two-fold force of mere exhaustion and the chill of Icelandic air. Know that my letters will become less frequent as we sail for the southern sites in Greenland tomorrow. Reykjavík has offered a wide share of wonder but my finer archeological interest awaits me in the stone of those ancient settlements near Nunap Isua and the islands of the Labrador Sea.

If my party can exercise precision and discipline, the research will surely afford a publication from the university. Insofar as the outcome is met, I expect to be with you by the rains of spring - for then we shall be wed and our love hallowed with the humble inklings of a family proper. Please give my best to William and Ulla. I do miss them greatly albeit a meager pang in the immense hunger I feel without you.

Yours truly,
Graham


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Letter from Prof. Graham Evans to his fiancé Ruth Wingrove. Dated the 1st of November, 1874

My Beloved,

Though I wish for this letter to arrive hastily, I moreover wish for it to arrive at all! For you see, we have scarce resources for communication and letters can only be sent by first going through Godthåb. The post is further slow and diminutive than I expected. I am afraid this augments my anxieties. I already long for you and Sussex. I find myself drifting into fantasy. Dreaming of having our tea by the channel – our family full. I tell you; it is dreams of such depth that I would near proffer a slight of clairvoyance.

Our party has already passed through numerous sites between Christianssund and Qaqortoq. Several of these have stirred much excitement in the group. There is a particular site with a few stone formations – natural and artifice – surrounding the ruins of a Danish Church, that I found uniquely beautiful upon survey. There have also been seemingly countless Norse settlements. I am already tracing a few pieces to some of the more common Icelandic sagas.

This journey has been one of great toil, but glory and withal, a little unnerving. For you see, there is something beyond the stone. Something so very peculiar in complex manners that, dare I say, offers a fright despite however bricky you find me. To wit, one of our party members, Alcott, though a bit of a coward himself, resigned his position and joined a small venture to Godthåb where, I presume he will remain for our duration.

The peculiarity is but a root – a Mandragora, a mandrake root. Its appearance is as humanoid as any of its like has ever appeared. But, of course, the peculiarity is less its features and the location and manner of being.

For one, Mandrake is not native, in fact, far from it. I presume that it is from the east or, in the least, the far south of Europe. Nordic settlers likely traded for it and carried it to Greenland.

Secondly, it was concealed in a glass reliquary upon an altar of complex ornate design and gold lace. This reliquary itself was behind a stone wall in a remote hillside. It was inconspicuous and only drew our attention when an abnormally strident seabird crossed our eyeline. The crevice was small and housed only the display and with it, an inarticulate eerie aura. From this, it seems, the Mandragora was a keepsake of social, cultural, or religious meaning. That of which, I, nay any of the party, have ever seen, nor studied, in all our years. We plan to return there soon. I will have more to share in due time.

With all my love

G.

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Personal journal entry by Professor Graham Evans, dated the 3rd of November, 1874

From the southernmost point, the cape, our party retreaded some the small islands which cartographers, almost certainly have rendered incorrectly. The party, and I more than any, desired to be nearer to Narssarssuaq as our minds only slightly wandered from the clandestine Mandragora. Thus, we arrived in the valley just before dusk.

We eagerly entered the hill’s opening to lay eyes upon it and to behold its mysterious, confounding presence. My intellect protests my eyes. It’s human-like face has shifted in ways my memory cannot trace. It haunts me still.

At night, as I write this, questions bait me into frightful insomnia. How did it get there? How ancient is it? Is it possible the Saqqaq had settled this far south? Or, was it really of the Norsemen? How, without industrious means, would the alter have been constructed and placed? How would the root have kept well, without the obvious seasons of rot? Could it be of a modern placement?

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[Abridged – Lyric Version ]


In the late part of the 14th century, the appearance of Norse traders began to decline in Greenland. Its climate was cooling and this chill was only reasonable for the infrequent commerce of whalers. It is believed that the natives preferred these circumstances insofar as it meant the protection of land, culture, and people. For it was that in the first quarter of the 18th century, Denmark monopolized all trade with the island, establishing private industry and Lutheran missions. A Eurocentric shadow was cast over the Greenlandic Inuit. The rising colonization nurtured an alienation from the land and its plentiful resources. The natives were long skeptical of the European foundations.
The shores remain closed. Now, very few foreign nationalities pass through those icy fjords. Thus, when an expedition of English researchers was afforded entrance, Professor Graham Evans heeded the divine calling. The year is 1874.

I trust my gloom is the two-fold force of mere exhaustion and the chill of Icelandic air.

Reykjavík has offered a wide share of wonder but my finer archeological interest awaits me in the stone of those ancient settlements near Nunap Isua and the islands of the Labrador Sea.

I expect to be with you by the rains of spring - for then we shall be wed and our love hallowed with the humble inklings of a family proper.

I find myself drifting into fantasy. Dreaming of … the channel – dreams of such depth that I would near proffer a slight of clairvoyance.

Through numerous sites between Christianssund and Qaqortoq.

This journey has been one of great toil…, but glory and withal, a little unnerving.

There is something beyond the stone
Something so very peculiar in complex manners to offer a fright…
It is but a root – a Mandragora, a mandrake root. Its appearance is as humanoid...

…concealed in a glass reliquary upon an altar of complex ornate design and gold lace. …itself behind a stone wall in a remote hillside. The crevice was small and housed only the display and with it, an inarticulate eerie aura.

From the southernmost point… our minds only slightly wandered from the clandestine Mandragora. Thus, we arrived in the valley just before dusk.

We eagerly entered the hill’s opening to lay eyes upon it and to behold its mysterious, confounding presence. My intellect protests my eyes. It’s human-like face has shifted in ways my memory cannot trace. It haunts me still.

At night, as I write this, questions bait me into frightful insomnia.
…how…?

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