The following is the story of Michael the scholar (Jorge), Theobold the healer (Morgan), and Louellen the woodsman (Ron) who encounter a spirit most foul in the bowls of a monastery near the city of Totburh.
Totburh
In the year 950 AD, in the fifth year of the reign of King Eadred, son of Eadmund the Magnificent from the House of Wessex, the walled city of Totburh was ruled by Thegn Oswyn. The hearthweru, warriors that guarded the people of the community, gathered in Oswyn’s hall. The men made boasts of the deeds they would do to prove their valor. Among them, there were also monks from the nearby monastery of Saint Swithun who came as guests. And there were three others: MICHAEL THE SYRIAN, a scholar from faraway Byzantine who knew the secrets of Greek fire; THEOBOLD, a healer who lived on the outskirts of the city and clove to the old ways; and LOUELLEN, a Cymric woodsman from Cuordon who had settled in Totburh where he now lived and served. These three also made boasts during the feast. Michael vowed to uphold the Christian faith and bring light to the pagan darkness. Theobold promised to protect the people of Totburh, Christians and pagans alike. And Louellen swore to perform such feats of prowess as would put the bravest of the Danes and Anglo-saxons to shame.
Their chance to prove their valor soon came. The pyres beside the River Severn were lit, which meant only one thing: a warband of Vikings sailed down the river toward Totburh! As the hearthweru began to muster their arms, the Byzantine scholar, the Anglo-saxon healer, and the Cymric woodsman set out ahead to spy upon the vikings. Louellen led them into the nearby woods. From a hidden vantage point, they saw twenty of the Vikings disembark and head toward Totburh, while a ten remained on their longship which continued down the river toward St. Swithun’s monastery. A community of thirty unarmed and defenseless monks resided, waiting to be slaughtered by the Danes.
The three men of Totburh could not hope to overtake the Vikings without horses. Therefore, Theobold and Louellen headed toward the monastery through the woods while Michael returned to Totburh to report their findings and ask for horses to ride to the monastery.
Upon hearing the news, Oswyn was dismayed. Hothere, an almoner from St. Swithun’s, and with his two fellow monks, implored the thegn to send some of his men to defend the monastery. Yet Oswyn could spare none of his warriors, who were all needed to defend the city. But he relented in offering horses to the monks and any others brave, or foolish, enough to strike out beyond the palisades and pursue the viking longship. Though he suspected that his mercy would send these men to their doom.
Thereafter, the Syrian and the monks of St. Swithun’s rode through the woods, and came upon the healer and the woodsman. These two had been delayed by the sudden approach of a wolf, which they had slain with their spear and cudgel. Reunited and now on horseback, the six men continued onward to the monastery. Soon, they saw a red glow engulf the sky above St. Swithun’s, and they feared that the vikings may have already slain the monks and put the monastery to the torch.
The Monastery
Upon their arrival, the men of Totburh were shocked at what they discovered. Upon the open lawn in front of the monastery, the monks and vikings were engaging in a startling display of revelry and mayhem. Together, they were gorging themselves upon food and beer, shouting and laughing in great excess, and even wrestling with each other with knives and bare fists. A young monk went about bashing the heads of nearby priests and vikings with a wooden stool. Hothere recognized him as Jurmin, a gentle and soft-spoken scribe, and called out to him, but his efforts to calm the junior monk only inflamed his wrath.
It became unnervingly clear to the men of Totburh that the monks and vikings had been possessed by some demonic spirit that drove them to display all seven of the deadly sins.
Upon entering the church of St. Swithun’s, they found the abbot of the monastery, Grymcytel, slumped over in one of the pews. He was wide awake but in a stupor, as if overcome by an unnatural state of sloth. When pressed to speak by the men’s pious prayers, the abbot began to recite a passage from that infamous grimoire, the Testament of Solomon, seeming to tell of a demon bathed in blood and heralded by a red glow:
“The monastery burns! It burns in the sweet smell of Pan’s pissings. And lo, I am King Solomon, come to render unto thee. I am the master of the air, the earth, the flame, and the wave. The red glow is his coming. The twenty-seventh of Lord Sabaoth. Bathed in the pressing of uva Phêth has come. If one exorcise me in wine, sweet-smelling and unmixed by the eleventh aeon, and say: ‘I exorcise thee by the eleventh aeon to stop, I demand, Phêth,’ then give it to the patient to drink, and I at once retreat. Bathed in the blood of many, he lurks below.”
The men could not make much sense of the abbot’s ravings, but what they did understand shook them to their core. But it seemed to contain clues to the nature of the demon that they faced and the means of exorcising it. Then they recalled that a man hermit named Hygerd living in seclusion near Totburh and was known to interpret made ravings such as this. Perhaps he could decipher the meaning of the abbot’s word and discover a way to defeat the demon.
The abbot, having exhausted himself, fell into a slumber and snored loudly. The men left him there and explored the rest of the monastery to see if any other people or clues might be found. In the cloister, they found Penda the bailiff gorging himself on bread and beer. In the hospital, they found Lanfranc the cellarer, greedily hoarding all the medicinal herbs and bandages. And now the almoner Hotere and his pious companions appeared to succumb to the spirit and enviously vied against Lanfranc for the bag of hoarded goods.
Byzantine Wine
Left to themselves and fearing for their own souls, the three men of Totburh pressed on. In the garden, they rescued a young urchin named Medwin, who was being raised by the monks after being abandoned by his family. He was gawking at a lurid book from faraway lands, brought by a Byzantine merchant named Moussolios. The men found Moussolios in the storeroom, looking with pride upon the exotic wares that he had brought from the continent. It was discovered that the strange events began to transpire two days ago, shortly after the cellarer Lanfranc had corked one of the casks of wine that Moussolios had delivered. This particular cask appeared to be an extremely old and unmixed vintage. It had Greek writing on it which Michael was able to decipher. It read:
“I am called Phêth. I make men consumptive and cause hemorrhagia.”
This was the name of the demon that was spoken by the raving abbot! The men determined that the demon was contained in Moussolios’s wine.
Now, the demonic spirit began to possess some of the me of Totburh. Michael was overcome by envy against the Byzantine, who boasted so pridefully of his mercantile skills and Greek heritage. Louellen fell into a state of sloth, something that he had long feared as a hardworking woodsman. So he did not have the strength of will to restrain Michael from laying hands on Moussolios, as the scholar threw the merchant against the casket, causing the latter to crumble to the floor, bleeding from his nose and ears.
Or so it had seemed to the others, but in truth Michael had never touched the merchant. When he reached out his hand to seize him, an invisible force threw Moussolios across the room. And his head had not knocked against the wooden basket. Yet he was bleeding profusing from his orifices. Was this the “hemorragia” of which the Greek words on the casket had warned?
Greek Fire
The men of Totburgh decided that the only way to defeat it was to destroy the wine by burning down the storeroom. While Theobold tended to the merchant as he could, Michael used his arts of alchemy to produce a flask of Greek fire, which they used to set the storeroom ablaze.
As the flame engulfed the storeroom and its tainted wares, a red glow filled the air above the building. But as the flames began to subside, the red glow strangely persisted and even appeared to glow brighter. And though the men had intended only to burn down the storeroom, they were alarmed when a fire also began to blaze from the church across the cloister.
The men went to investigate and found the abbot standing wide awake in the midst of the burning building, with one hand carrying a torch while the other was covered in blood, and tears of blood were streaming from his eyes. In letters of blood, he had written on the wall of the church: Relinquo totus spes… Tuatame ex infernis…
Michael translated the words aloud: “Abandon all hope… Liberate me from the fire…”
It became clear that the demon had not been exorcised but had grown more powerful instead. And now the fire blazed across the monastery, threatening to consume the men of Totburh along with everyone else if they did not flee. Having not the time to save everyone, the men rescued the abbot, Hotere, and Medwin the urchin. The remaining monks and vikings were left to their doom.
The Hermit
The survivors of the monastery returned to Totburh, where they found that the viking raiders had looted many of the homes of the residents before they were forced back by the city’s defenders and took flight into the woods. Oswyn was preparing to send his hearthweru in pursuit to reclaim his people’s stolen wealth. Therefore, Louellen led the warriors through the forest to track down the raiders, while Michael and Theobold went to see Hygerd the hermit.
The hearthweru found the vikings in a clearing where they were arguing with one another. Their longship had failed to return from the monastery as was their plan, so they were left to fend for themselves. Louellen led the hearthweru in a surprise attack, routing the vikings and slaying them nearly to the man. They recovered the stolen wealth of Totburh and took three viking prisoners.
Meanwhile, Michael and Theobold found the hermit Hygerd in his small shack on the outskirts of the city. The former priest of St. Swithun’s was thankfully lucid enough to receive them, and when given a thorough account of all that had transpired at the monastery, he gave his own interpretation of the events in the form of a bardic song. And during his telling, he recited the same lines from the Testament of Solomon that Grymcitel had spoken. And he revealed that the only thing that could exorcise the demon was unmixed wine. That was why the demon had been placed in the wine cask by whomever had bound it in the first place. The wine was not a vessel but a means to seal the evil spirit. Now, the men of Totburh bitterly regretted their decision to destroy the wine in the storeroom. There was only one place remaining where they might acquire a large quantity of wine: the thegn of Totburh.
Fortunately, Oswyn was greatly pleased by the success of the hearthweru. He gladly offered up a large cask of wine and a cart to transport it. He also awarded Louellen and his two companions their choice of booty from the arms and armor taken from the fallen vikings. Louellen and Theobold each found a suit of chainmail that fit them, while Michael took a fine sword of Viking make.
The Exorcism
Now, the men of Totburh, together with the abbot, the almoner, and the boy Medwin, set out on their final quest. Carrying the cask of wine upon the cart, they returned to Saint Swithun’s. To their dismay, the red glow in the sky had spread much further and began to stretch in the direction of Totburh.
When they arrived, they found that the entire monastery had burned to the ground. Roofless stone walls were charred and partly collapsed. The burned bodies of monks and vikings lay everywhere. But the men steeled themselves against the horror and proceeded to the storeroom where the trouble had begun.
The surviving monks Grymcitel and Hotere began to recite a prayer of exorcism while pouring the unmixed wine onto the scorched grounds of the storeroom. But as they did so, the all of the men witnessed in terror as the burned corpses stirred and then rose into a twisted semblance of life. The monks and vikings became undead creatures, and they lumbered with dread steps toward the storeroom.
Now came the time for the men of Totburh to prove their valor. Theobold held what was left of the scorched wooden door of the storeroom against the tide of undead monks and vikings. Michael the Syrian stood upon the ruined walls and threw flasks of Greek fire at the horde. And Louellen rode forth upon his steed, shouting wildly to draw many of the attackers away from the storeroom. They held fast against the tide of undead and the rising terror in their hearts. And it seemed that the monsters would break through the door, climb over the walls, and drag the rider from his steed. But in the final moments, when all seemed lost, the monks spoke the final words of their prayers, and completed their rites of exorcism. Then the red glow in the sky faded away, and the undead creatures collapsed to the ground and were still. The men of Totburh were emerged victorious, and returned to their thegn with the tale of their triumph.
Or so they believed… For they did not realize that not all of the monks and vikings had been accounted for, and some had come to life and wandered afar before the exorcism took them. And where these undead shamblers walked, a red glow filled the air about them, and the blood of Phêth’s victims watered the earth.
The End…?