Image courtesy of Ruth Gledhill via Unsplash. Edited using Canva.
We weren’t lost. That much I was sure of. This was the same well-trodden road we’d followed all day. My husband had ridden this way many times in his almost fifty years, ever since he was a squire. And yet, there ought to have been a crowd of fellow pilgrims with us, all of us on our way to Chartres1 and its grand cathedral. Instead, we were alone and had been so since the morning. It was nearly sunset when we reached the top of the hill overlooking an old manor house, with cottages clustered like chicks nestled around a mother hen. The estate was a goodly one, much greater than our own, but there was something about it that troubled me. Something was missing.
“I don’t like it, My Lord.”
Durant had been so silent today that it startled me when he finally spoke. I had always been a little skittish around my husband’s servant, albeit for reasons that were beyond his control. His size and strength reminded me too much of my father, a man I was eager to forget.
“This is Saint-Aubert-sur-Mayenne, is it not?” I ventured.
“Aye, My Lady. But see, there aren’t any cook fires.”
I realized then what had given me so much disquiet. I’d been looking for the plumes of smoke that marked the sky above every town and village, especially at this time of day. The sky above this place was as empty as when God first created it. My husband glanced at Durant, then out at the village below us. His eyesight was not as it was even a few years ago, so I knew he was probably struggling to see past the glare.
“He’s right,” I added hesitantly, not wanting to cause embarrassment. “But it doesn’t make any sense. Not unless this place has been abandoned.”
“No,” said my husband. “This is a rich estate. I can’t imagine des Roches leaving it except by force. And then we’d see signs of an invasion.”
“You don’t think it’s the plague, do you?”
He shook his head.
“It’s possible but unlikely. People flee disease. They don’t wait quietly at home to die.”
This was sensible, but not exactly comforting. At least plague was easy to understand.
“How far is it to the next village?” I asked.
“Almost a day’s journey. Our horses would never make it.”
Neither would we.
“We’ve assumed a great deal from just a lack of smoke,” he added. “There could be some other reason we’re unaware of. And if something truly has happened to des Roches, it’s my duty to investigate it. He’s a vassal of the baron, just as I am. And a friend.”
—
Dense forest quickly gave way to farmland as we rode on, but it was ragged and overgrown. Someone had plowed earlier in the season, but the fields had been left to grow wild for at least a few weeks. None of us felt much like speaking, and this made the profound stillness of the place even more apparent. No peasants labored in the fields here. No cattle grazed in the pasture. The only sounds were the tramp of our horses’ hooves, and now and then the cry of some wild bird in the distance.
The manor house was already half-shaded in twilight by the time we reached it. It was a fine building of stone, sturdy and well maintained. The windows were diamond-paned glass and perfectly intact, but there was a burn mark seared across the closed doors in a perfectly straight line. I tried to imagine what could have made such a mark and for what purpose, but in truth I had no idea. My husband dismounted and handed Durant the horse’s reins, then went to knock on the door. I wanted to tell him not to, but I knew it would be no use. This was his duty, and he had always been stalwart in fulfilling it. It was one of the things I usually admired about him, but right now I would have preferred caution to valor.
“des Roches? Are you there?”
No answer.
He knocked once more, then called out again for his friend. We all waited, listening for the sound of footsteps or the appearance of lights in the windows. There was nothing. The windows were so uniformly black that I half wondered if they’d been painted.
He tried the door handle, but it was locked. Not abandoned after all.
“We shouldn’t linger here, husband.” I said, “It’s starting to get dark and we still haven’t decided where to spend the night.”
“I should at least try the back door first. I owe des Roches that much.”
“Then take Durant with you. I’ll wait here.”
“You can’t stay here by yourself. And besides, it will only take me a moment.”
I looked to Durant himself for support, but he was conveniently looking elsewhere.
“Only a moment,” he repeated as he walked off. I hoped he was right.
While he was gone, I occupied myself in looking for somewhere we could stay. Best make myself useful rather than fret over my husband’s stubbornness. There were several small cottages and a squat stone church nearby, and I decided that the latter was most promising. It was certainly the most defensible, if it came to that. With any luck, it wouldn’t be locked up like the manor house. It was a relief when he appeared again after a few minutes, looking somewhat glum but otherwise no worse for wear.
“Did you find anything?”
He shook his head.
“Locked as well. The curious thing is that there isn’t even a keyhole; only a smooth piece of metal. I’m not sure how one would even open it.”
Thankfully, the church was unlocked. Its interior was sparse and empty, with only an altar and a few chairs for those too feeble to stand throughout the service. On the far side of the room was a small stained glass window, although it was already too dark to see more than a vague outline of what it depicted. Everything was so ordinary here that I felt something like relief for the first time since we arrived.
My husband had decided to keep watch, saying that he couldn’t sleep anyhow. I lay on the hard stone floor nearby for some time, trying to quiet my unsettled mind. It was no use. The empty roads, the missing villagers, the strange locks on the manor doors. None of it made any sense. And the worst part of it was the fact that we wouldn’t even be here if not for me. It was my deficiency that had sparked the idea for this pilgrimage. My miscarriage after nearly five years of trying to conceive a child. Finally, I couldn’t take it anymore. Making my way around Durant’s sleeping form, I sat down beside my husband, with my back against the wall.
“You should be resting,” he said in a low voice. “We’ll leave at first light.”
I hesitated, trying to find the right words.
“I know,” I said at last. “But I wanted to say that I’m sorry for all the trouble I’ve put us through. We ought to have waited until next year. Until we could be sure the roads were safe.”
I felt his hand squeeze mine.
“Don’t blame yourself. I was the one who led us here.”
“For my sake.”
“No, not only for yours. There are things I did when I was young—sins I haven’t properly atoned for. If God is punishing us, it’s my sin that caused it. I only wish you didn’t have to suffer under the same burden.”
“Do you think God has brought us here for a reason?”
“I don’t know. But Durant and I would have had to take this journey either way, eventually. I only wish we’d arrived sooner.”
“We may not have been able to help des Roches, you know. Not with only the three of us, and one a woman at that.”
He sighed.
“You’re right, Alys2. But at least we could have tried.”
“The baron will send reinforcements, won’t he? Once we tell him what happened?”
“We don’t know what happened. But whatever it is, it probably has to do with that house.”
“There’s no way in, is there?”
“None that we’re capable of finding. The windows are too sturdy to break through, and there’s no getting through the door. But I imagine the baron will be very interested in learning what’s inside. He’ll probably want to see to it personally.”
“You’ll go with him,” I said, knowing this was not in question.
“If he commands it, yes. But he’ll find accommodations for you while I’m away.”
This was meant to be comforting, but I didn’t find much comfort in it. Something had happened to the people of this village. It was as if the earth had swallowed them whole. This place wasn’t abandoned; only lying in wait.
—
I awoke with a start. The doors of the church were outlined in brilliant, cold light, and the air was filled with a strange hum that made the very ground tremble. In the halflight, I could see the faces of my two companions, eyes wide with fear. My husband was brave, but what could a mere man do in the presence of the divine? But was that what this was? I wondered if we’d hear a voice, telling us to fear not, but there was no other sound to be heard. It was hard to think, hard even to breathe. All three of us stayed perfectly still, waiting and listening for the voice of God.
Then the light vanished.
Everything went still.
Bright designs danced across my vision as I tried to understand what I had just seen. Outside, there was a faint hissing noise, then footsteps. Another light flickered, smaller but just as bright. None of us dared to speak, and I heard no sign of the others’ movement in the dark. Even my husband seemed frozen to the spot. Another hiss, then more footsteps. Whatever was out there, they weren’t alone. I guessed there were at least two or three of them now. The footsteps were unhurried, and came no closer to us as they went along. They seemed to be pacing, or maybe circling something. One of the men quietly made his way to the door. I couldn’t make out much more than a shadow in the dark, but the height and breadth of it told me it must have been Durant. Another hiss, and then a sound that none of us expected—the cry of a baby.
Durant gasped, but quickly silenced himself. My husband was already close behind him, and I could only just make out their conversation.
“They’ve got captives, my Lord.”
“Who does?”
“Monsters? Demons? God only knows. There are at least three of them out there, big, broad creatures. Bigger than a man.”
I got to my feet, unsure of what to do with myself but fearing I might have to run soon. Durant might be wrong, or it might be some trick of the light, but I doubted it. He had never been prone to wild fantasies. The child cried out again, and I heard several people frantically try to comfort it. I didn’t want to see what lay on the other side of that door, but I forced myself forward all the same. I was the youngest, and I knew my eyesight was probably the best of any of us. Perhaps I could see something; some way to help these poor souls.
“And how many captives?”
“I count eight, aside from the babe. At least two women, I think.”
I pressed my eye to a gap between the door and the wall and looked out. At first I could only see strange shapes rimed in that uncanny light. Then I caught sight of a small group of people in the courtyard, all clustered together as if trying to stay warm. Bands of some white material bound their wrists, but the other details were lost in the dark.
Something loomed across my field of vision, huge and malformed. It was close, far closer than I had expected. I flinched away, stifling a scream.
“Alys?” whispered my husband. “What did you—”
I gestured frantically for him to be silent, but he couldn’t see my distress. The gap between the doors was flooded with light. Then the doors pushed inward, almost gently, just catching against the bar that rested against it.
A pause.
This time they were pushed to their full extent.
I darted away from the door, looking for something, anything to defend myself with. A fool’s errand, for I had never held a weapon in my life. There was a garbled sound, like the buzzing of some enormous insect. Something heavy struck the doors. The wood groaned against its weight. The bar was not meant to keep invaders out forever, merely to buy us time. By the unnatural light I saw that my husband had drawn his sword, and Durant had the large hunting knife that usually hung at his belt. I had nothing.
Another pause. The doors groaned again as it slammed against them. I doubted they would survive a third assault, not against something of that size and strength. My husband must have known that as well as I did, for he darted forward and thrust his sword into the gap. There was a terrible shriek as the unknown assailant impaled itself upon it. The door gave way.
The creature was unlike anything I had ever seen. Even curled in on itself and clutching its side, it stood as tall as a man and as broad as a draught horse, with arms much too long for its body. It was dressed all in white, other than a strange glass helm, which shielded an inhuman face.
My husband had been thrown clear of the door. He staggered to his feet, but I feared that he had been injured in his fall. The creature took something from its belt and aimed it at him. Not a crossbow, for the shape was wrong, but I had no doubt it was some kind of weapon. He tried to move out of the way, but he wasn’t fast enough. Durant moved into the gap between them, plunging his knife deep into the creature’s chest. It lashed out with one of its long arms, catching him off guard and throwing him to the ground, but he rolled out of the way just as it struck at him again.
Where was the weapon? Not in the creature’s hands anymore, for it seemed to have realized its mistake just as I did. With something like panic it dropped to the floor to search for it, just as my husband drove his sword into its back. I spotted the weapon on the other side of the sanctuary. It saw it too, grasping at it with horribly long fingers, but Durant was too quick, driving his heel down hard on its hand. It shrieked again, but I paid it no heed. I couldn’t fight, but there was one thing I could do. I gingerly picked up the weapon. It was lighter than I expected, despite being large and made entirely of metal. The creature had held it in one hand, but I needed both hands to keep it steady. I held it the same direction it had, with the tube facing outwards.
There was a cry of alarm from outside. Two more lights rushed out of the manor house. I looked to my husband and Durant. They had fought bravely, but they might not be able to weather another assault. The doors were half-torn off their hinges, so there was no shelter to be found here. I forced my attention to the device I held in my hands. There was a curved lever at the bottom, protected by a thin, rounded strip of metal. If it was anything like a crossbow, pressing this would probably release the mechanism. The lights were closer now, within a stone's throw of the church. Taking shelter behind one of the doors, I raised the weapon and leveled it at the approaching monsters. I would have only one chance at this before they reached us.
Please God—
I pulled the lever backwards, towards me. I don’t know what I expected, but it wasn’t the stream of pale blue light that shot forth like the wrath of God himself. One of the creatures stumbled, but I had clearly only grazed it. Had I squandered my only shot? But there was no arrow to be loaded, no winch to be wound. The creature stumbled again, as if under some great weight. One of the captives had shoved it off balance, and now another was trying to keep it from getting up again. The other creature flung one of the men aside, only to be struck from behind by two more.
This was our best chance, but it wouldn’t last long. A shot of light exploded from somewhere within the group, and a man dropped without even a cry. The second shot went wide, as the combined weight of the others arrayed against it was too great. My husband and Durant rushed in, but I hesitated. The chances of shooting either them or the captives was far too great. Out of the corner of my eye, something moved. I turned to see the remaining creature slowly pulling itself to its feet. The floor was spattered with its blood, but somehow it was still alive.
“Stay where you are!” I said, pointing the weapon at it. Either it hadn’t seen me fire or the weapon hadn’t been spent yet, for it froze, looking up at me, and for the first time I saw its face. The helm was lit by an interior light, so I could see it quite clearly. Its skin was as pale as parchment, with four black, unblinking eyes as round and unnerving as a spider’s. Its mouth opened, then closed again, and I caught a glimpse of flat and perfectly white teeth. Somehow this unnerved me more than if it had had the fangs of an animal. It was too ordinary, too human.
“What do you want with these people?” I asked, wondering if it would give me a reply. “Why did you bring them here?”
It moved its lips, but there was no sound other than an insectlike buzz that seemed to come from both everywhere and nowhere.
“Are you a servant of the devil?”
Again there was the same buzzing noise. Was it trying to speak, or was this something else entirely?”
“In the name of Christ, tell me!”
It stared at me with a wide-eyed expression I almost took for fear, but said nothing. Even devils could speak if commanded to. So if not a devil, what was this thing?
“Can you understand me?”
The creature raised its empty hands, wincing with the effort. Its breaths were ragged and slow, and I doubted it would last much longer. There was something strangely tragic about it, even as it repulsed me. It was dying far from home, its companions slaughtered while it could do nothing but watch. The sounds of fighting had ended now. Out of the corner of my eye I could see the men approaching. I would make a decision now or not make it at all.
“May God forgive you,” I said, and pulled back the lever.
This story has gone through several different iterations and required a lot of research. 13th Century-ish France isn’t a setting I’ve written about before, so I had to do a fair amount of reading just to get the basics of what everyday life and travel were actually like. There are a lot of assumptions and generalizations about the Medieval era, many of which are informed by movies, tabletop roleplaying games, and video games. I tried my best to be historically accurate here (other than y’know, the obvious inaccuracy), but I’m definitely not a Medievalist and may have gotten a few things wrong. There were also a few times I had to cut out historical facts I had researched in order to streamline the story.
I’m still not 100% satisfied with this one, but I did learn a lot about plotting, editing (especially in a hurry!), and researching for historical fiction. At the very least, it was a great learning experience!
(Also featured on the Macabre Monday Substack!)
Also known as Cathédrale Notre-Dame de Chartres or Cathedral of Our Lady of Chartres, this was a popular destination for Medieval pilgrims. One of its most famous relics was the veil of the Virgin, reputed to have belonged to the Virgin Mary herself.
An Old French version of Alice.
What a fun mash-up of historical fiction and horror.
I can't think of any other story that ties medieval historical fiction, sci-fi, and horror together like this!