Supernatural Stories featuring Storm God's Fury

by Bron Fane, Patricia Fanthorpe, Lionel Fanthorpe

Genres: Fantasy; Occult & Supernatural; Horror

Synopsis

Storm God's Fury: The ancient gods used powerful weapons on those who defied them. Vampire Castle: Something with claws instead of hands was unpicking the lead. Moonlight Island: The prints on the beach changed from human feet to leopard tracks... The Mountain Thing: It staggered from the mountain cave ... savage ... hideous ... part man, part beast. Return of Lilith: Lilith ... ghastly night monster from mythology older than history.

Release date: September 30, 2015

Publisher: Gateway

Print pages: 90

Sample

“Something with claws instead of hands was unpicking the lead.”

SIR MAURICE HASTINGS FLETCHER was tall—or would have been if he hadn’t had a scholarly stoop. His voice was good, clear, loud and pleasant—or it would have been if it hadn’t had a professional lecturer’s tone about it. For Sir Maurice Hastings Fletcher was an historian, and didn’t he know it! His captive audience, the majority of whom were young and restless and wanted to get out into the afternoon sunshine, were listening with as good a grace as they could muster, to talk on castles.

There was no doubt that Sir Maurice knew his stuff, but whether anybody else wanted “his stuff” crammed down their throats, was a matter for some doubt.

He peered over his glasses and launched into yet another interminable point about castles.

Everybody admitted that Sir Maurice knew more about castles than many other historians, everybody admitted that Sir Maurice put his stuff over pretty well. But a lecture was a lecture, and a sunny afternoon was the gift of God, as far as the majority of the students were concerned. It looked as if they were not going to be permitted to enjoy God’s gift, for Sir Maurice seemed to be entrenched for the day. He had retired into his castle of words, and was defending any attempt to dislodge him. He was defending it with great vigour.

“By ‘castle’ we normally understand a fortress—a fortress which is small and self-contained. The majority of castles are associated with the period known to historians and students alike as the ‘Middle Ages’. Alternatively the term has been employed to denote those earthworks of prehistoric origin at such places as Hollengbury Castle and Maiden Castle. The term, too, is sometimes used when we speak of citadels. But there is a vast difference, as our friends in the Salvation Army would be quick to tell us, between a citadel and a fortress.” He smiled; the joke was not a particularly good one, but the students all laughed dutifully. Some of them even laughed out loud; others applauded. The subtle flattery had been prompted by the high hope that Sir Maurice could be cajoled into a good mood and a short lecture.

There were two schools of thought about trimming Sir Maurice’s lectures down to reasonable size. The first was to applaud him vigorously and put him in such a good mood that he thought it would be a fine thing to let the students cut early to enjoy the summer weather. The second school of thought was that a morose silence would discourage him, and dry up the apparently endless flow of river-like words.

Two students had once been discussing Sir Maurice in his hearing, and their remarks formed one of his favourite after-dinner anecdotes. The first student, young and fresh, had never heard him before, and as Sir Maurice walked up the corridor behind him he heard the young, fresh student say.

“I think Sir Maurice is a wonderful lecturer. A great torrent of words flows out of him like a mighty river.” The other student said:

“Yes—he is pretty difficult to wade through, I agree!”

Sir Maurice had been deflated, but at least he had the good grace to laugh. A sense of humour is a saving grace. So is brevity. Sir Maurice had the former but lacked the latter.

“As I was saying,” he repeated, looking round as though he had been interrupted—he had a habit of doing that. When he interrupted his own chain of thought he began all over again as though somebody else had interrupted him. It didn’t make life any easier for the lads and lasses who were taking notes.

“Citadels are sometimes referred to as ‘castles’ or ‘fortresses’. Examples of this are the so-called castles of Burgos and Badajos. In more modern times the smaller, completely detached forts d’arret are also known as ‘castles’. In France the word ‘chateau’ is rightly or wrongly applied to any country seat. The word ‘castle’ or ‘chateau’ can also be given to the most important mansion of a nobleman, or a member of the aristocracy; or, to be strictly accurate, if one is going to split hairs, a prince.

“So you will see, ladies and gentlemen,” he beamed at the students,” that a castle really has two aspects. Its primary aspect is that of a fortress, its secondary aspect is that of a residence, and so, let us consider the associated aspects of the subject. I am sure you all agree with me that the medieval castle must be connected very very closely indeed with the art of fortification and siegecraft. It cannot be separated from it. The two things are inextricably intertwined.”

He paused thoughtfully.

“Let us now examine the derivation of the word ‘castle’ itself. Our present L.E. arrangement is not the happiest of choices, and originally the word was spelt with an E.L. at the end. Perhaps you would be good enough to make a note of that….”

The lecture dragged on and on.

“The word ‘castle’ was especially used by the Norman knights, who had been brought in to defend Herefordshire against the Welsh, at the express wishes of Edward the Confessor; and they applied it to the special fortifications which they built, to enable them to carry out their mission. What, then, were these castles like?” He began making copious notes on the board at this point.

“Well, I would say that the most important feature of each was a circular mound of earth, surrounded by a very wide, deep, dry ditch——” He demonstrated with more scribbles on the board. “The mound of earth was flat on the top, rather like Table Mountain and upon this flat top a timber palisade was built. You will find examples of this on the Bayeux tapestry. And if I may quote from that famous historical work, ‘The Life of John, Bishop of Tarounne’—‘The rich and noble of that region, being much given to feuds and bloodshed, fortify themselves, and by these strongholds subdue their equals and oppress their inferiors. They heap up a mound as high as they are able, and dig round it as broad a ditch as they can. Around the summit of the mound they construct a palisade of timber, inside which they build a house or citadel, which looks down on the whole of the neighbourhood. John, the Bishop, died, unfortunately, in 1131, although some misinformed authorities give the date as 1130. However, various evidence has come to me, and as a result of copious research, I am sure that the later date is the more accurate of the two. As I said, the unfortunate John died in 1131, but the castle he describes, which is at Merchem is very typical indeed, in fact a perfect stereotype, of the castles that were familiar right through the twelfth century, and they sprang up like mushrooms—dangerous mushrooms of war….

“In addition, the castle was often augmented by a base-court, or bailey. Sometimes there were two of these of horse-shoe shape, or semi-lunar….” He paused for a few moments and consulted his notes.

“As the period advanced, or progressed, a wall of stone—strong and durable stone—was used instead of the original format, which you will remember is—you—young man who appears to be asleep——!”

He pointed fiercely at a dozing undergrad.

“I—I—I expect it was used in place of the original timber stockade or palisade that you were telling us about, sir,” replied the hapless student.

“Oh, well, if you were listening, why were your eyes shut?” demanded Sir Maurice.

“I always listen, sir, I assure you. I have a little eye strain, I find it rests them if I close my eyes. I can concentrate better that way, sir. I’ve heard every word you’ve said. In fact it was most interesting.”

“Very glad to hear it,” commented the lecturer rather huffily. It was annoying to think you’d caught a chap asleep, and found he was actually listening better than a chap with his eyes open. Bit of a blow below the belt. Made a lecturer feel damn foolish; he’d have to watch that chap. The lecture dragged and droned on. Sir Maurice spoke about the influence of the Crusades, and he spoke of famous castles. He gave brief descriptions and held up charts and showed photographs, of Moscow’s Kremlin, and Barclay Castle. He showed them pictures, plans, charts and diagrams of the Chateau of Courcy. He showed them the Hellenstein, which was situated near Heidenheim. A beautifully drawn plan of the Krak-des-Chevaliers was produced. He had some wonderful aerial photographs of the Chateau Gaillard.

He also had sketches and plans of Warwick Castle, the Chateau of Peirre Fonds, and the great fortification at Caerphilly. He concluded his demonstrations with pictures of the Castle Roozendael, and the famous Chateau de Montargis. He explained to them how castle building had developed into the concentric plan. He went through the historical importance of the decline of the fortifications which the barons had erected. He explained the function and the significance of castles in English history and just as they were heaving a sigh of relief and hoping that the lecture was coming to a close he let fly with another great spate of illustrations.

He had already long overrun the lecture time, but what could a student do in the presence of so very redoubtable and erudite a lecturer as Sir Maurice Hastings Fletcher? Who, as though dissatisfied with his baronetcy, had decided that scholarship should prevail until he had more letters after his name than in it; and when you have a name like Maurice Hastings Fletcher, that is a real academic achievement, no matter how many academic societies you join simply for the delight of putting ‘Fellow of the Something-or-Other Society’ after the name that Nature and the state had already blessed you with.

But just as some gallant soldiers are destined to collect medals, and as some criminals seem equally destined to collect prison sentences, so Maurice Hastings Fletcher had been destined to collect degrees….

He remembered once, and his memory went back to it, even as he lectured, how he had been engaged in an argument with a tenant farmer upon the estate of which he was Lord of the Manor, a title which he had purchased with great delight, in a moment of conceit which he had later regretted.

“How dare you pit your wits against mine, man? I’ve been to two Universities!” he had told the tenant. The farmer had replied:

“That b’ain’t nothin’, ol’ partner. I had a calf once that used to suck two cows. The more it sucked the bigger that calf grew!”

And Sir Maurice had retreated after that brilliant ripost. As he thought about it, a smile played momentarily on his lips. When young Lords of the Manor. . .