She tapped her chin thoughtfully as the children watched her, eyes shining with anticipation. At last she brightened, having settled on the perfect story.
“Did I ever tell you all about Sir Roderick the Restless?” Lucy adopted a spooky tone. “They say his ghost still haunts these very halls...”
The children leaned forward eagerly, some with nervous trepidation furrowing their small brows. Satisfied she had their full attention, Lucy launched into the tale.
“Sir Roderick was a brave warrior and loyal knight who protected Blackford for many years. But he was also stubborn and thought he knew better than everyone else.”
Around the room, various servants, and guardsmen going about their duties drew near, wanting to listen to the story.
“What happened to him?” Emma asked.
“Well,” Lucy continued, “one winter, there came a fierce battle fought right on these very castle grounds. The people defended the walls from the invaders, but Roderick thought he knew better than his lord how to lead the fight. He disobeyed orders, and the enemy breached the gates. It was to be his last night on the land.”
Her captive audience gasped. Lucy nodded gravely.
“It was a disastrous mistake. The enemy was waiting and slaughtered Roderick and his men. They forced the first Lord Blackford to fall back, ceding the outer courtyard as the enemy poured through the gates. They lost many lives that otherwise might have been spared if Sir Roderick had obeyed orders.”
The children exchanged wide-eyed glances as Lucy continued.
“After the battle, the surviving men searched the grounds to gather their dead. Roderick’s body was nowhere to be found amongst the other fallen knights. It seemed the enemies must have carried his corpse away when they retreated back across the border. Lord Blackford was furious at Roderick for costing so many loyal men’s lives with his arrogance.”
Nearby, a guardsman added in a low, ominous tone, “Some say Roderick’s own men punished him for his foolishness in themidst of the fight. Stabbed him in the back before the enemy could finish him...”
Lucy nodded. “Yes, perhaps that is true. Others believe Roderick survived the battle but deserted in disgrace, never to be seen again. But the truth is far more chilling.”
She lowered her voice to a true ghost-story whisper.
“Some say Roderick’s ghost still haunts Blackford to this very day, cursed for all eternity to wander these very halls and battlements after causing the deaths of so many.”
Mouths agape, the children stared at Lucy with a mix of fascination and unease. Even the hovering adults seemed intrigued and unnerved by the tale. After letting the eerie revelation sink in for a moment, Lucy continued with a grin.
“Through the long years since that fateful battle, some have claimed to glimpse Sir Roderick’s ghost in the corridors at night. Pale and shadowy in his rusted armor, with an anguished scowl upon his face.”
A young scullery maid spoke up. “My gran said she saw him once... drifting across the courtyard to the garrison late one night when the moon was full.”
Pleased the story was entertaining for everyone, Lucy nodded.
“If you are quiet and listen late at night, you may hear strange sounds—footsteps pacing the battlements, echoed shouts from long-dead men, the clash of ghostly steel from the wall where Roderick led his men in that ill-fated charge.”
The children huddled closer together, excited and a little scared at the same time. When Lucy first told ghost stories, the kids said they weren’t scary enough, so she made them scarier, and when she worried that they’d have nightmares, William had said they all loved her stories. The scare was part of the fun.
“Some nights, when the fog rolls in thick from the sea,” Lucycontinued, “the guard on duty swears he sees shapes moving through the mist. The ghosts of Roderick and his men, doomed to reenact their fatal mistake for all eternity.”
They all listened, eyes huge, as she concluded, “So beware if you are out of your beds at night. You never know when you might catch a glimpse of Sir Roderick’s tormented ghost drifting along the parapets where he met his end so long ago. They say his face is frozen in an expression of terrible anguish and regret, a warning to any who might let foolish pride lead them to disaster.”
A pronounced hush followed the end of Lucy’s tale, broken only by the popping and crackling of the great hall’s fire. At last Emma whispered hesitantly, “He’s not really here though... right, my lady?”
The girl’s mother spoke up. “If you do as you’re told and go to bed when you’re supposed to, the ghost will pass by, otherwise—” she trailed off as the children gasped, making Lucy cover her mouth so she wouldn’t laugh.
The children nodded, while shooting uneasy glances into the hall’s shadowy corners. Deciding she needed to lighten the mood, Lucy stood.
“Come now, who’s hungry? Let’s see what Cook has prepared for dinner.”
The mood broken, the kids ran to sit at the benches as the guardsmen joined them for the mid-day meal, murmuring to each other about the ghost story, some swearing they had seen the ghost.
Later that night, Lucy smiled to herself on her way to bed. She imagined the guards keeping an extra sharp watch for any wisp of mist or listening for the haunting footsteps of Sir Roderick the Restless.
CHAPTER 10
