A short story by R.A. "Doc" Correa
Provence, the end of March 1292
Sir Ade looks up the hill from atop his mount, verifying
that the campfire is still there. He spies the flickering flames through the
foliage and the thin spire of smoke rising above the trees. When one of the
men-at-arms said he saw the smoke from a campfire the knight thought if they
left the old Roman road, they would just be following a will-o’-the-wisp. It
seems years of war had sharpened the man’s eyes.
Sir Ade looks over his three companions. Their clothing and
chainmail show the ravages of time one would expect from months on the road.
Looking down at his mantle he can see the same weathering on it that he sees on
his companions. The red of its Cross Patée has faded to the point it is hard to
tell what the color is. The white of the mantle is now a dingy gray.
The exhaustion displayed on the faces of the men at arms
that accompany him he feels within himself. The prospect of a warm fire and the
possibility of cooked food, and perhaps company, overcomes the discretion he
and his companions have survived by since their flight from Acre last year.
Throwing caution to the wind the four veterans of the crusade make their way to
the inviting fire on the side of the hill.
As the party passes through the last row of trees into a
small clearing, they see a man sitting on a stump next to the fire. The man is
dressed in leather trousers and tunic. He wears deer skin boots; a rough cloth
cloak hangs over his shoulders and he his hands are encased in deer skin
gloves. There is a leather shield, studded leather armor coat and a leather
helm on the ground next to the stump. A longbow and a quiver with several
arrows lay on top of the armor. The man rotates a side of deer on a spit over
the fire.
Sir Ade greets the stranger by calling out, “Hail good sir.
My comrades and I ask if we may enter your camp and join you by your fire.”
“Sir knight, you, and your companions, would do well to
continue on your way,” replies the stranger.
Sir Ade looks over his shoulder at the setting sun, then
answers, “Kind sir, the sun is setting and soon it will be too dark to travel.
My companions and I have travelled far, we have spent many a frosty night on
this journey. All we ask is you let us warm ourselves by your fire.”
“Any other night I would enjoy the company and even share my
catch with you.” He points to the side of deer he is rotating. “But tonight the
moon rises late, and with the rising of the moon the forest becomes very
dangerous,” says the stranger as he sets another tree branch on the fire.
The knight replies, “Sir, we are returning from the crusade.
These men and I fought at the siege of Acre. We were the rearguard of my
Templar brothers. We fought off the Saracens until we boarded the last boat
out. My comrades and I are more than a match for any danger that may come our
way.”
The stranger by the fire looks over Sir Ade and his companions like a man sizing up an opponent. After several moments he nods and tells them, “Perhaps you are right. Come and sit by the fire. There is a cave just beyond that tree where you can quarter your horse. Mine is already in there with plenty of water and fodder for the both of them. Once you’ve groomed yours, please roll the boulder back in front of the entrance. It will protect them from wolves that come in the night. All of you may help yourselves to my deer, and there are potatoes baking under the fire. Oh yes, there are a couple of bottles of wine in the cave as well, bring them out. They’ll go well with the meat.”
The crusaders take the horse to the cave. Sir Ade grooms his
mount and waters it. Once he has fed it, he and his comrades move the boulder
back in place. When they have finished Sir Ade asks himself, It took the four
of us to move this thing, how did he move it by himself?
When they return to the clearing the crusaders start to
remove their armor. As they do the stranger tells them, “You should keep your
armor on, when the moon rises you will need it.”
Sir Ade says, “Shouldn’t you be wearing yours as well?” as
he points to the stranger’s studded leather lying on the ground.
“When the moon rises it will just be in my way,” states the
stranger.
Sir Ade and his companions remove most of their armor but
leave their gambesons on.
The five men eat and drink together. They finish the two
bottles of wine swiftly, so the stranger produces three more. As the crusaders
become more relaxed, they tell tales of their adventures in the holy land. The
stranger listens intently to their stories.
The sun has set, and the the stories get darker. After a
couple of hours of tall tales about Saracen hordes and mystic yarns of Jinn and
magic the stranger cuts in with, “I’ll tell you a story from my family’s past.
From when the Romans claimed these lands.” His guests all nod yes and look at
him intently.
“Over a thousand years ago my family lived nearer to the
sea. There were many Roman villas nearby. They owned our land and all the crops
we grew. They would take nearly everything. So, the people in our village
became thieves to stay alive.
“At first, they stole food, but after time they began to
burglarize the villas for precious objects, things they could sell or trade for
what they needed.
“One night one of them met a werewolf. Though he killed it,
the creature bit him and he became a werewolf himself. He killed his best
friend when the next full moon rose. He blamed the Romans for his being cursed,
and from then on whenever the full moon was about to rise, he’d be sure to be
close to one of their villas so that the Romans would be the victims of the
wolf.
“As time passed, he travelled far, as far as Egypt. There
they revered him as a son of Anubis. On the nights of the full moon the priests
would sacrifice virgins to Anubis by locking them in his chambers before the
moon rose.
“But always, no matter how far he roamed, he would return
here to Provence.” With that the stranger removes his deer skin boots.
Sir Ade asks, “Is that the whole story?”
“No sir knight, but perhaps this story ends tonight.” The
stranger hangs his tattered cloak on a tree limb. He removes his deerskin
gloves and hooks them to the tie of his cloak. As he removes his tunic the
stranger continues, “It is rumored that the cursed man has once again returned,
and he is roaming this very forest.”
The men at arms have been watching the stranger disrobe and are now looking quizzically at Sir Ade. The knight notices that the eastern sky is becoming lighter from the rising of the full moon. He asks thestranger, “Sir I understand you wanting to be comfortable when you sleep, but with the chill of this night is it wise to undress?”
“The chill of the night will not affect me sir knight. It
has not affected me since I was a young man, besides, I doubt I shall sleep
this night,” replies the stranger. He turns from hanging his tunic on the limb,
facing the knight and says, “Sir knight I too fought in a crusade.”
“Did you accompany King Louis IX?” asks Sir Ade.
The stranger turns to look at the eastern sky. The first
sliver of the moon appears above the horizon. “No sir knight, I fought to
liberate Jerusalem from the Saracens,” answers the stranger.
The-men-at-arms look to the Templar knight, shock clearly
displayed on their faces. Sir Ade says with disbelief, “Sir, that was over a
hundred and fifty years ago! Clearly you are lying.”
The stranger starts to say something but instead doubles
over in pain. He looks to the horizon at the third of the full moon that is now
visible. He unties his rope belt and releases the clasps of his leather pants
as he rises back to his feet. He drops his pants as he tells all of his
‘guests,’ “I do not lie mes amis.”
As the moon rises further into the sky the crusaders watch
as another wave of pain brings the stranger to his knees. It seems to them the
stranger has become a blurry, misshapen shadow. From within the shadow his
voice rings out, “I am Francois Piere Barteau! I am cursed, I…am…loup…garou…
I…am…werew…Ah-hooo!”
The men-at-arms scramble for their weapons as the massive
European gray wolf leaps onto Sir Ade, pinning him to the ground as its jaws
clamp onto the Knight Templar’s throat, snapping it like a twig.
They were far enough from the old Roman road that no one
could hear the sound of their battle…
They were far enough into the forest that no one could hear
the cries of the dying crusaders…
They were far enough away that no one could hear the howl of the wolf…ugh away that no one could hear the howl of the wolf…
R. A. “Doc” Correa
https://www.amazon.com/stores/R.A.-Doc-Correa/author/B073R82QC5
A retired US Army
military master parachutist, retired surgical technologist, and retired
computer scientist. He’s an award-winning poet and author. “Doc” has had poems
published in multiple books and had stories published in Bookish Magazine and
Your Secret Library. His first novel, Rapier, won a Book Excellence award and
was given a Reader’s Favorite five-star review.
