The Curse of Blackbane - Chapter 21

Asmodeus

Chapter 21

It was nearly evening when the two men found a place to stop for the night. The road to the town remained busy throughout the day, and they found the locals to be friendly. Many spoke French. Even better, the travelers found no soldiers on the road. A Frenchman they met along the way told them about the bridge of the river into Givet. He told them it was already too late to get across the river since the path was closed after dark.

“Then, we have another night of sleeping on the ground,” Leiras complained after the traveler left them.

“Well, there looks to be an old house ahead. We can stop there to get a fire going. It’ll be turning cold overnight.” Marshall pointed out.

Pulling their horses off the nearly deserted road, the men found an open patch of grass near a massive walnut tree. Leiras came to a stop and looked closer at the figure of someone standing under the tree. He looked closer and saw a beautiful black-haired woman.

“Welcome, gentlemen,” the woman said in French as she stepped out from the shadows.

Marshall turned his horse at the sound of the voice. He glanced around the area suspiciously, pulling his pistol.

“A fair lass who appears far from home,” the monk replied with a smile. “The heavens brought us great fortune.”

Dressed in a bright white silk dress with a low-cut front to expose her cleavage. She wore no overdress or hat, which made her appear underdressed. The heavy gold chain necklace around her neck looked out of fashion. However, the men recognized the immense value of her jewelry, which made the woman an easy target on a lonely road. Leiras glanced over at his partner, who continued to scan the area.

“You honor me, fair monk. I’m on my way home.” she stared at Marshall as she spoke in English. “I’m glad I finally got off this road. It’s dangerous for me to travel at night. However, my home is not far. Escort me, and I’ll provide you with accommodation. The chill of the air is already on us. Such illustrious men seldom come our way, and I would be a poor host without offering you a place to stay.”

“I’ll bet you tempt many a traveler in such fine clothes,” the monk slid off his mount. He tapped out the ash from his pipe on the heel of his boot.

“I don’t see a farm near here.” A hint of suspicion carried in the monk’s voice.

Marshall nodded agreement as he glanced back at the ramshackle hut. He noticed nothing unusual in the growing darkness.

“She appears overdressed for a farm wife,” he pointed out.

“Oh, I’m not married, and my home is deeper in the forest. Follow me, and I promise you a fine meal.” The woman replied in English with a smile. “It’s not far.”

The woman turned and hastened away.

“Hopefully, she’s a wonderful cook,” Leiras led his horse off the road. Marshall looked around the dark shadows that were overcoming the remaining bit of twilight. He slid off his mount and led the animal along the narrow trail.

As they followed the woman into the darkening woods, the two men noticed the surrounding silence. Their mounts grew restless, snorting and shaking their heads. Marshall stroked the neck of his animal, feeling the same trepidation. The encompassing blackness weighed him down. When they reached a small house in a clearing, the men stopped while the woman went to the entrance. He wasn’t sure about the wisdom of their actions. Still, weariness and the thought of sleeping on the cold ground made him push past his concerns.

Bright light poured from the structure’s open windows. Yet, the only noise they heard inside the home were whispers, combined with sounds of groaning and panting. The woman waited at the door. Her face lit up at the visitor’s expressions of bewilderment and suspicion.

“Are you afraid to enter, my bold travelers?” Her voice teased.

“Bring your lantern,” Marshall quietly advised the monk as he stepped by him.

Ostentatious as the place looked, something about sounds coming inside the house bothered the captain. The occasional haunting noise of breathless whispers and hints of moaning would spook someone afraid of ghosts and specters. Yet, to the pirate, the sounds reminded him of the sleazy taverns and whorehouses along the docks. He stuffed his flintlock into his belt. Leiras joined him with his lantern jingling in his hand.

A light blasted him as the woman opened the front door. The men held up their hands to shield their eyes from the blinding glare.

“Step forward, my travelers. You must be weary from your trip.”