THE SEED OF HENRY INCUBUS
The putrid, nauseating stench of rotting flesh hung in the acrid air.
Henry Incubus pulled the sheets from his body and sat upright in his bed. His nose was twitching strenuously as his nasal passages sought out the source of the puke enhancing stink.
After clearing his throat, and gobbing a mouthful of dark green phlegm on to the straw strewn floor, he swung his legs out of his bed and surveyed the dimly lit room. He glanced at the ceramic chamber pot but quickly noticed that it was empty, and not the source of the gagging odour.
Climbing to his feet he staggered across the floor towards the shuttered window, and flung open the portal to let fresh air circulate in the room.
After imbibing an immense breath of strikingly fresh but freezing cold air, he began to dress in a hurried but particular fashion. He took a further hurried look out of the window and noticed the familiar alleyway located just across the courtyard.
Once fully dressed in his regulation apparel and thigh-high leather boots, Henry Incubus loosened the phlegm in his throat and spat a bloody gob in to the embers of the previous nights open fire. His red sleepy eyes soon set upon a large irregular mound in the corner of the room, partially covered by a filthy cape but still revealing what appeared to be the lower limbs of a corpse.
Striding towards the lifeless morass the stench intensified and Henry Incubus pulled his kerchief from his knurled neck to cover his nose and mouth.
As he pulled back the sodden cape Henry gave out a muffled gasp as he revealed that the lifeless mass was the deceased body of his manservant Cyrus Bloefeldt. Bloefeldt had been in the service of Henry's family for over fifty years and had always been loyal and faithful to the extended Incubus clan.
His exact age was not known by anyone but the deceased, but it was believed by Henry that he was at least eighty five years of age and perhaps an even older vintage. Family legend placed him at the Battle of "Mons Badonicus", when his courage and acts of valour earned him the nickname of "Iron Balls" (Tormentis Ferrei Globi) throughout the Empire.
The actual events that bequeathed him the glorious epithet of "Iron Balls" have been lost in the mists of time, but it remained a favoured moniker to all who knew him. Henry Incubus stooped over the putrid corpse and lifted the lifeless body so that his trembling arms and hand could cradle the remains of the fabled "Iron Balls".
Calling for assistance a number of his retinue were soon at his side and they assisted with the transferal of the body along the narrow hallway, down the turret-rooms winding staircase, through the main hall and out to the courtyard below.
The corpse was soon inside the family chapel located within the grounds of the parish church, where it was laid upon the alter. Henry Incubus turned to his retainers and motioned for them to leave the building. As they departed a strange and eerie moaning started to envelope the open spaces of the derelict chapel.
Ignoring the ever increasing intensity of the screeching and wailing, Henry Incubus moved towards a hatch in the far wall, and using all his strength opened the locked compartment. He stared in disbelief as he gazed upon the fabled Basilica of the Geats. Its fabulous visage gleaming in the bright light that emanated beyond the opened portal. As the hairs on his neck prickled and cold seat ran down his brow, he remembered the epic poem of the forefathers, "Bretwalda Cyning Gebyrd" that stated that only the true "Bretwalda" could view the mystic Basilica of the Geats.
Henry drew a deep breath and moved towards the object secreted in the wall...
To be continued.......
Henry Incubus pulled the sheets from his body and sat upright in his bed. His nose was twitching strenuously as his nasal passages sought out the source of the puke enhancing stink.
After clearing his throat, and gobbing a mouthful of dark green phlegm on to the straw strewn floor, he swung his legs out of his bed and surveyed the dimly lit room. He glanced at the ceramic chamber pot but quickly noticed that it was empty, and not the source of the gagging odour.
Climbing to his feet he staggered across the floor towards the shuttered window, and flung open the portal to let fresh air circulate in the room.
After imbibing an immense breath of strikingly fresh but freezing cold air, he began to dress in a hurried but particular fashion. He took a further hurried look out of the window and noticed the familiar alleyway located just across the courtyard.
Striding towards the lifeless morass the stench intensified and Henry Incubus pulled his kerchief from his knurled neck to cover his nose and mouth.
His exact age was not known by anyone but the deceased, but it was believed by Henry that he was at least eighty five years of age and perhaps an even older vintage. Family legend placed him at the Battle of "Mons Badonicus", when his courage and acts of valour earned him the nickname of "Iron Balls" (Tormentis Ferrei Globi) throughout the Empire.
The actual events that bequeathed him the glorious epithet of "Iron Balls" have been lost in the mists of time, but it remained a favoured moniker to all who knew him. Henry Incubus stooped over the putrid corpse and lifted the lifeless body so that his trembling arms and hand could cradle the remains of the fabled "Iron Balls".
The corpse was soon inside the family chapel located within the grounds of the parish church, where it was laid upon the alter. Henry Incubus turned to his retainers and motioned for them to leave the building. As they departed a strange and eerie moaning started to envelope the open spaces of the derelict chapel.
Ignoring the ever increasing intensity of the screeching and wailing, Henry Incubus moved towards a hatch in the far wall, and using all his strength opened the locked compartment. He stared in disbelief as he gazed upon the fabled Basilica of the Geats. Its fabulous visage gleaming in the bright light that emanated beyond the opened portal. As the hairs on his neck prickled and cold seat ran down his brow, he remembered the epic poem of the forefathers, "Bretwalda Cyning Gebyrd" that stated that only the true "Bretwalda" could view the mystic Basilica of the Geats.
Henry drew a deep breath and moved towards the object secreted in the wall...
To be continued.......
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