The Grimswell Curse Read Free Page A

demise as a warning from the Almighty, Lord Reginald plunged himself into vice with unrestrained fury. In disgust, his father-in-law claimed his grandsons to raise them apart from such iniquity.
    Before long, no maiden or matron of virtue would venture near Grimswell Hall. The daughters of local farmers began to disappear. Rumor had it they were victims of foul abominations at the hall. Those who would not submit, perished, vanishing without a trace, while others gave themselves over to the wicked corruption. One yeoman discovered his daughter all bejeweled and bedecked in finery at the hall, but she laughed and pretended not to know him. A week later, the man was found dead on the moor, his throat cut.
    Common folks and the gentry shared a disgust toward the hall and its lawless occupants, but naught might have happened had not the Viscount finally outreached himself. He was visited by an emissary of the crown, the Earl of Chadwick, who, knowing nothing of Grimswell’s reputation, brought with him his daughter Rose. At the sight of the fair girl, Lord Reginald’s evil soul was inflamed anew with lust. He determined to take the girl by force that very night, and he did so, despite her desperate pleas. Foolishly he thought she would keep silent of her disgrace or that none would dare touch him should she accuse him.
    The pathetic girl wrote a brief note to her father revealing her betrayal, then thrust a dagger into her heart. Imagine Chadwick’s grief and rage the next morning when he discovered his daughter’s corpse and this dreadful testament! It took several men to restrain him from strangling the Viscount, who then mocked him and had him ejected from the hall.
    This fell upon a Sunday morning in October, and the Earl went straight away to the church at the Hamlet of Grimpen. Interrupting the service, he strode to the pulpit, told of his daughter’s sad fate, and begged the congregation to help him bring down the wrath of God upon the miscreant. The people of Grimpen listened in horror, and when he raised his fist to Heaven, a low murmur of approbation echoed through the church. The other lords there present asked only for time to gather their forces and arm themselves. Thus, by late afternoon, every able-bodied man advanced toward Grimswell Hall, some carrying scythes or pitchforks, others bearing swords or lances.
    Word of what had passed at the church had reached the hall earlier, and all the Viscount’s servants and cohorts had fled, leaving him to face the angry crowd alone. Even then, Lord Reginald might have been saved, had he but prayed for forgiveness. Instead, he turned to the dark powers and begged the Devil for assistance. He found the answer he sought in an ancient tome in his library.
    The sun had sunk, and a ghastly orange moon rose over the desolate moor and the dark tower of Grimswell Hall as the avengers reached the portal. Before them was a figure in a black cloak and hood seated upon an enormous black charger. Although they were many, a hush fell over the crowd, and they halted.
    The Viscount threw back his cowl, and a peal of Hellish laughter slipped from his lips. He cursed the men and mocked them, but none seemed able to move until Lord Reginald began to ridicule poor dead Rose. At that, Chadwick drew his sword and charged forward with a great cry.
    The Viscount headed across the moor on his black stallion, and those who had mounts gave chase. His unnatural steed could have outraced any mortal horse, but Lord Reginald kept only slightly ahead of his pursuers. He halted before the jagged pile of rocks known as Demon Tor, and even as the riders watched, he scrambled up its face like some huge black spider. Hardly had he attained the summit, than the riders drew up about the base. Soon those on foot also reached the tor and surrounded it.
    The Earl cried out for the Viscount to descend and face his punishment. For all his crimes, he must surely die, but as Christians, they would let him confess