jangeo Pinkerton

Excerpt From The Templar Knight,
Book Two: Journey To The Kingdom Of Hell
by jangeo Pinkerton

 

Chapter Thirteen

The Journey

 

1308 Oct 31

Summer passed, and the harvest season arrived bringing with it another birthday for Sir Bret de Colville. On this day, Bret turned twenty-eight years old. This night, the new moon would be perfectly circular on Samsain, making Bret’s journey to Hell possible. To everyone’s surprise, Zarelda arrived in Colville, and waited patiently for the hour of departure.

Near the witching hour, the tremendous new moon lit up the peaceful village of Colville. Inside the de Colville’s stone cottage, Jared helped Bret don his Viking ceremonial horned helm, and straightened out the earflaps.

Bret kissed the silver crucifix around his neck, and next, the Star of David. The knight made the sign of the cross, then walked out the cottage door. Will I ever see my son walk out the door again? Jared wondered.

Bret looked magnificent in his tall black boots, blue tunic, and blue velvet cape. The Clan Colville Coat of Arms embroidered on the back was remarkable. “You did a fine job, wife,” Jared said.

Earlier Bret had enjoyed an exceptional meal, prepared by the village of Colville in honor of the knight’s birthday. “Today, my son turns twenty-eight years old. What a way to celebrate Bret’s birthday,” Jared said to Le.

She kissed Jared, and walked away to catch up with her son. Jared watched his towering son stroll along the lane. Bret will leave this night on the journey of his life. Would he return? Jared looked up at the sky. “Lord, can I bear this cup?” he asked.   

He leaned forward and grabbed onto the table to keep from falling onto the floor. “Please, God allow me to live, for the sake of Bret,” Jared whispered. His heart throbbed with pain, and his breathing slowed down.  

Could he live through this night after Zarelda’s deception? Sir Jared relived the nightmare in his thoughts. He went to sleep last night with his wife, and when he awoke this morning, Zarelda rested next to him, not Lee de Colville.

How could it be? he wondered.

Earlier in the morning, when Jared awoke and saw Zarelda, he leaped to the window to look for his wife. Behind the cottage, he spotted Le picking gourds from their vines. He turned back to his bed and saw the witch. She stretched out on his bed, her fingers locked behind her head, her legs crossed. Her black cloak draped neatly underneath her long garb and black boots.

A wicked smile rested across her face. Jared reached to push Zarelda out the door. She disappeared before his own eyes. “Magick! Witchcraft!” Jared screamed. “Witchcraft!”

Jared’s thoughts returned to the present now. “I must pretend to feel normal. Bret cannot know of my sickness. Did the witch cast a spell of ill health on me?” He went for a sip of wine. “Of course. That is why she was smiling in such a way. She managed to cast a spell of ill health upon my weary heart. She wants me to die.”

Jared’s heart was not strong enough to bear this evil deed. “For sure twas a trick of the devil.” Whatever the matter, he knew he slept in peace by himself, until the witch awoke him. “The woman goes to any measure to torment people.”  

“There, better,” Jared said, placing his empty goblet on the table. He stood straight. He and Le had fallen into a deep slumber this morning. Le said she wanted to awake early to pick gourds. The witch played a game with his mind. Why would Zarelda go to all this trouble? “Aye, with me out of the way, she thinks she can cast a love spell on Bret.” He laughed out loud, then grabbed his chest.

Jared forced himself to . . .

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