The tie at the moor Stone by Nigel Turner. The boat was fastened and
I clambered up the broken steps. Their silence met me like a friend.
No sounds were to be heard, but measured lapping of water against the stone
lined banks, and the occasional cheap of a screech bat I gained the terrace.
Nowhere was a light visible. The grange seemed filled with silence and darkness.
Slowly I wended up the long alley the beldum. That witch hag weighed
heavily upon my spirits, and a loathsome fear possessed me. In daytime I
had brooded over her address, and hell got lear. Yet sunshine and fellowship
of men, and ripened wine had beclogged my apprehensions. Now, walking betwixt
the high dense hedges of box, where no sound was for the thick turf
as velvet sunk my footsteps, I was once more affrighted. Twice had she
crossed me, and two times had evil fortune befallen. The galleon captured my
brother slain, Ye gad man, What of old wives prattle? Quoth I
to myself. Their gizzards are stuffed with ancient tails. Tush a fig for
the hag's rubbish did not bab may last, Saint Agnes Eve tell her beads
to my name, and that even the too nay, nay, her malignanty
cannot wantonnon me. But ever and anon. As I paced up the silent,
fragrant ally, her words fell back again, and unwittingly I shuddered,
God, what courage was a constant companion? Yet a fright grew and overwrought
me. My bilbow fastened in a blown branch, and I stooped to release
it. A torturing scream broke shrilly upon my ears, an oath, a
scuffle, then silence. In God's name, What's ado? I muttered,
and sped up to the terrace door. It was bolted. This threw me
all aback, for never before had it been so encountered. Now I heard
the west gates thrown open, creaking villainously upon their hinges, A clatter of
horses, hoofs, then no noise. I ran swiftly round the terrace,
leapt the small stream, and, hastening up the steep, stood upon the
margin of the moor. But darkness of night and softness of verdure had swallowed
up both sight and sound. I turned into the courtyard and hurried to the
wicket gate by the ancient buttery. It swung over to my touch, So
speeding through the smaller hole, I gained the great staircase. At the first
turn, I tripped over a sprawling body in a trice. I was on
it, and at the throat it was a woman with nervous hands. I
struck a light and beheld the countenance of her handmaid, Mistress Marian. Cried
I thickly, what has happened? But she had been stunned by a heavy
blow, which yet left a thick red welt upon her forehead. So in
haste to ascertain the safety of my beloved, I caught up the maid and
rushed down the long corridor. The door of Viola's room stood ajar. I
broke in, clamoring her name, but there came no response. The chamber
was empty. I flung down the woman, and with trembling hands, lit
the flambo by the tall mirror. As the light filled the room, I
noticed full disorder on every side. Viola must have retired to rest. For
her garments, with many dainty frills and ravishments of white lay flung aside,
while the bedclothes were betossed. Hastily. I threw water over the damsel's face
and violently shook her. Mistress Marian, I shouted loudly in her ear,
where is my lady? She opened her eyes, her lips moved, but
I heard no sound. Bending down, I caught the low moan, my
lord, the tie at the mow stone, Sir Jasper, and the goodly
maid fell a faint. Again, This is the devil's ploy, thought I
suddenly the heart within me. Now I knew of a certain that an evil
eye had been cast upon us. My feet seemed rooted to the oaken floor.
Action was wanting in all my members. I stood as a stucco doll.
Me seemed an age passed, and no sounds heard, but the sough
of the wind through the blighted pines, and the dismal hoot of a ranging
owl. It was strange. Fragrance of Jessamine still lingered in the room,
as it was at even when last we sat in Love's sweet bower. This
perturbed my senses with dear recollections, and as a lout, struck dumb with
fears indefinite, with bitter grief, tearing at my heart strings. Heedlessly,
I loitered, then recurred that bodeful wording seeker by the mole stone when no
time is and cursing my tardiness, I hastened from the chamber. As I
fled along the dark, re echoing corridors, A mighty blast of wind drave
into the house, swirling and screeching through the many passages. Then fell a
great silence all around, and my heart pat exceedingly within me. For I
on this night did evil fortune befall. From one a babe would be reft,
ne'er to be seen again. From another, a fair virgin would be
ravished to be discovered. Next morn, lying afield, babbling and disfigured.
Oft times, a wedded wench would be lifted from beside her slumbering bridegroom,
And next morn, at the waking hour, a dead corpse chilled his living
blood. All this crushed into my head, as unwitting of the way,
I traversed the outer hall. Its porch stood open, and I marveled thereat.
Neither in my life nor in my father's had this been For time had
so rusted and encrusted the iron bratticed halls of the great door that nigh A
scoursome of strong men could scarce accomplish the opening thereof. But now it gaped
to the thickening darkness. I gained the heath. All was still behind me
lay the grange, buried in the gathering night beyond the moorstone. I plunged
impetuously forward, scudding up the rising grounds like a leverett before pursuit. Now
arose all my grandam had told. This was the eve of Witchery's highest revelry,
the thirtieth of April. A great offering was brought this night to the
moorstone around hearthstones at eventide, it was whispered the evil One himself came and
feasted. But no mortal had ever seen and told. Had not my father
been found two score years ago on the first of May, lying in deathly
stupor nigh to the moorstone, his body naked and livid, with impress of
great taloned fingers all over, And never again had his voice greeted the ear.
My eager feet sank in a bog and tardily I set them down again,
lest I be pitted and drawn in by the quickening morass. There was
no noise but the swishle of reeds against my body. As I bent on
now and again a moor hen or what a rat was, startled, and
I heard it scuttle from me. Ever and anon elusive lights shimmered out in
the distance to tell of mortals lured to destruction by malicious goblins. And I
gathered in my mind how that travelers crossing between Murk and morning had been lost,
luckless whites snared into depthless morasses. I broke out into a speedier pace
and prayed the saints for a stout heart. Haply stumbling into a narrow westerly
track, I gained courage with firm ground beneath me. My God, I
groaned to think of my love in their hellish tricks. The blood thickened at
that very thought. As I sped up to the waste land, my brain
pieced together the case. The heart was with my mistress, Yester. Even
as she lay in my arms, a cold shiver chilled her gentle frame,
and breath failed for the space of a lamb's bleat. As life pulsed back,
she clung her tender soft body to mine, and knew the quickening beat
of her heart was felt, and sweet caresses calm to the terrified spirit.
She wist not the cause, but subtle love caught upon the reason. An
evil eye had rested upon her and thralled ay, And by Sir Jasper had
it been cast. May God smother him in his own slime. I muttered
thickly, and sped the faster onwards. At last the dreary highlands were reached.
No knowledge had I whereby to gain the center, where lay the moor
stone, within the circle of stone pillars gathered by heathenish hands. I was
all uncertain of it. Neither moon nor your stars broke the sullen darkness,
No stir was in the air. All in a clap out of the blackness.
To my right came a shrill cry of help, Help. Then the
silence was broken by shrieks of a tortured being borne far into the night.
They beat upon my ear full of a dread terror, and I stood rooted
to the spot. Suddenly the air rang with a faint echo of Jeffrey Geoffrey.
The vague sound died away, and I heard nought but the pit pat
of my bosom, Now a harsh hurtling noise passed overhead, an echo of
discordant laughter and gibberish talk. Even now, where the devilish gang are loose,
Already some luckless wight had they fastened upon and done to death. For
this hellish brood was my mistress to be sacrificed. A mighty wrath flowed up
within me, and I pressed on fiercely. Hell's dawn broke red behind a
ridge. Some small deer drove rapidly past me. My limbs slackened as timorously
I clambered up, muttering a pater noster. The top was reached. The
sight therefrom terrified me by reason of fear. My body shook before the druid
circle, wherein lay the stone sat a horrid being of evil growth, possessing
the voice of man. Around him, red columns of fire belched forth,
beclouding the air with Hell's vapors. Far back, until enveloped with the mists
of night. Grinned myriads of babbering skulls, ancient witches and wizards again to
renew the past. On a sudden the earth trembled, and I fell,
quaking upon the salts. Methinks I had lain there in stupor a goodly time.
As when breath crept back, the space before me was covered with crawling,
flickering flames, and numberless voices filled the air with hoarse revelry. My
heart gave a great bound, but the blood clotted within its runs. For
bound to the moor, stone lay violer. I sank on the turf,
riven with unutterable agony. No prayer issued from trembling lips. Indeed my head
was blank. Then thoughts slowly shaped themselves. Tradition hath it that every volpurgis
eve, the evil one demands the pure soul of maidenhood thereafter to woo it
to destruction. So Sir Jasper, maddened at my felicity, had outrun all
humanity of God and man. His base malignity roused my beclotted blood, and
I cursed him. Nay, I could but die beside her and bulk his
devilish intent. And I started up. But I was borne upon the grass
by an overmastering hand that stiffening all flesh, turned my body into stone.
I lay prostrate, speechless and mightily afraid. Verily, man is but a
beast of the fields. When the spirits of evil and of darkness do stalk
abroad. A voice sounded from among the crawling flames. As it receded from
the circling witchery and drew nigh unto the evil one. It died away into
a long, drawn sob. The person of a male appeared amongst the many
wavering fires. With bowed head and low, crouching body. He adored.
Then, with indistinct voice, he proffered the offering. Great clouds of smoke
gathered above as a roof. All sound died away into a deadened silence,
and human utterance issued from the pillar of fire that, slowly filling the circle,
enwrapped the evil growth. It is good, it said, and the
soul of the maid is without stain. Yet their up spake a voice in
reverent accents, Almighty Master, we cast a spell upon her, for she
cried on her lover to save. So the bane was recalled. Yet the
recumbent figure lay motionless. Forthwith there arose a mighty clamoring of many tongues,
crying, Am mortali is with us. The harsh, unhallowed outcry filled the
air, and curling flames, shooting out their long tongues sprang upon me from
the surface of the earth. My breath hardened, my pulse throbbed. Not
meseemed, I was and was not scant knowledge had I that Hell's crowd surged
upon me, and surged back again. Baffled again, they thronged around,
endeavoring to devour me, But I was unharmed. Hideous forms filled the air.
Griffins with hurtling wings and monstrous faces swarmed above, darkening the dim light.
Huge embodiments of winged snakes swelled up and spitting at me, raged impotently
with hellish spleen. Suddenly, like a base chimera, the unholy crew went
not before me but the lurid round of flame and the motionless body of my
love. Yet on all sides, great bodied creatures, mingling with gigantic,
wavering shadows, noiselessly massed themselves. In the heavens above, and upon the
face of the sleeping lands afar and surrounding, the forces of Hell were arranging.
My heart went from me. I lay heaped upon the ground. Now
the blast of a mighty hurricane wind was to be heard. Then, speeding
nearer and nearer, Many things tossed by me, Yea, the evil one
would snatch at me. As that thistle down borne on the gusty breeze.
A speck of gold flashed in the red gloomed air. Another and another.
Then a multitude of small birds with golden plumage and whitened breasts broke over the
body of my love, settling thereon until she was a mass of wavering gold.
The wind caught me. The grim countenance of night blanched before the uncoming
morn, gray dawn peered upon the mist swaved hills. I awoke, starting
to my feet. I gazed with surprise at my strange bed quarters, twas
deuced odd to fall asleep upon the moor. Suddenly the wild fantasy of midnight
clappered upon my brain, and I shivered at mere thought of it. A
scurrying breeze tore asunder the seething rack. In a hollow at my feet,
between the parting shreds, was revealed a body upon the moor stone. I
attained the spot with frantic speed, catching hold of the massive slabs, I
drew up my cramped figure. Before my eyes lay Viola, and upon her
swarthy tresses floated one small, golden plume. Through the monstrous enactment of evil,
God had preserved her in the hollow of his hand. Valpurgis Eve eighteen
ninety six and of the Tie at the Moorstone by Nigel Turner