The Midnight Man Read Online Free PDF Page A

‘that the eve of All Saints, thirty-first of October, Saint Walpurgis, is one of the most solemn black feasts of the sorcerers and other practitioners of the dark arts. I was absent that evening, when our cemetery was invaded by a warlock well-served by the knights of hell, the one who calls himself “The Midnight Man”.’
    â€˜I’ve heard of him,’ Anselm broke in. ‘One day I would like to meet him.’
    â€˜One day you shall!’ Beauchamp retorted. ‘You can shrive him just before he’s burnt as a warlock at Smithfield.’
    Anselm turned in his chair and stared at the subtle clerk. ‘God,’ he whispered, ‘has ordained all our ends. Pray God we are not consumed by his fire in the second death.’
    Beauchamp’s smile faded. He looked sharply at Anselm, then indicated that Parson Smollat should continue.
    â€˜As I said,’ Anselm would not be outfaced, ‘I would like to meet the Midnight Man – he claims to be constantly attended by a spirit dressed in a flesh-coloured tunic under a dark robe. I wonder,’ he mused, ‘why warlocks and sorcerers place such great emphasis on petty demons like that?’
    â€˜I do not know any of this, nor does anyone here.’ Parson Smollat sniffed. ‘Nor do I know what went wrong, what horrid sights and hideous manifestations made their presence felt. Murderous chants, snatches and war cries were heard amongst the howling of a pack of wild dogs which invaded the cemetery and drove off a herd of pigs, snouting around the dead. Apparitions were glimpsed, ghouls and night-stalkers. Menacing shadows with strange lights were also seen.’ Parson Smollat crossed himself. ‘All I know is that sooty souls, their evil minds fastened in wicked sins, came into our cemetery and sang their own devilish vespers. They opened the very doors of hell. According to rumour and, it is only rumour, the Midnight Man and all his devilish crew were so terrified at what they’d provoked, they fled.’ The parson mopped his fleshy face with a napkin. ‘I should have been content with that. The rogues and villains fled but, no sooner had the Feast of All Souls come and gone, than the hauntings began.’
    â€˜At first they were minor matters.’ The sexton took up the story while the parson wetted his throat. ‘Tombstones were tumbled. Crosses were knocked over, then those who crept into the cemetery after dark, the night-lovers, stopped coming, eager to avoid the place.’
    â€˜Why?’ Beauchamp asked.
    â€˜They talked of prowlers, sinister shapes and threatening shades snaking around the tombs. Cries and strident screams were heard. Strange lights and tongues of flames licking the darkness.’
    â€˜The same also appeared in the church,’ Parson Smollat intervened.
    â€˜Frightful.’ Curate Almaric spoke up, clawing at his hair. ‘I heard similar tales when I was a boy at my father’s manor . . .’
    â€˜Well, yes,’ Parson Smollat glared at his curate, ‘but we’re talking about our church where tables and benches were overthrown. Triptychs pulled down from the walls. Cruets and thuribles smashed in the sacristy. A tun of wine was shattered.’ Parson Smollat paused to gulp more claret.
    â€˜Even at Mass,’ Sir William Higden declared mournfully, ‘I was there. Candle spigots dashed to the ground. The pyx chain sent swinging. Foul smells, horrid sounds.’
    â€˜All the same, I thought ghosts and demons could not haunt a hallowed place?’ Beauchamp asked.
    â€˜Not true.’ Anselm tapped the table. ‘Christ was taunted by demons. Read the scriptures: devils thronged around him, even if it was to beg for mercy. Evil can open up the gates of hell. Demons swarm up, drawn by feelings of hate, resentment, malevolence, wickedness and malicious evil. Like soldiers laying siege they seek paths into our souls, drawbridges