Bear and the Goblin of Castle Hartland

Chapter Five: The Goblin Mother

That night vengeance descended on Castle Hartland.

Under the haze of twilight, as the stars began to appear, the goblin, severed of its arms, was found by its mother drowned on their doorstep. She howled for her dead son: it was an horrific sound, like the rush of wind though an abandoned home.

She came then to Castle Hartland. She took the same road down which her son had fled, following his bloodtrail. She could see his blood, despite the dark, as clear as wine splatter on a white tunic, and could smell it as if, like burning incense, it exuded drifting tendrils.

She stalked over the heath, scaled the walls of the house, slunk through an open window, and loomed above the great hall. She scowled at the sleeping sapiens below. She was mad with outrage; she was a mother grieving the death of her son. Her eyes were black depths.

She knew not which of them had killed him, so she would kill until the rage was gone.

She dropped to the floor and took to macerating the sleeping sapiens. She tore them apart where they lay. She cared not if they cried, for it was never more than a final gurgling blurt. To her fortune, they were all so drunk that no-one who heard his fellow cry stirred awake. Blood soon trickled through the grooves between the stones.

The soft glow that is dawn's waking light began to shine through the high windows. The groan of sluggish awakenings quickly convinced the goblin's mother to flee; although her rage still burned like molten steel.

She dragged away Ash, a Shielding Knight who wore on her finger one of King Pike's gold rings. The goblin mother bashed Ash's head against the wall to stop her struggling. She then dragged her across the brightening heath, back to the marsh where she dwelled.

The marsh was downstream from the pool where her son had drowned. It was surrounded by crags, on which stood dark and twisted trees bereft of leaves. It was a place no wild animal went, and from which hunters, adventurers, and wanders veered unconsciously away, as if repelled by an unwholesome magnetism. It was a place deep instinct feared.

There the goblin mother cut off Ash's head, ate her flesh, tossed her bones in the murky water, and slipped the gold ring on her own green pinky finger, which brought a smile to her wide, sharp mouth. Even she thought it was a very lovely piece.

She afterwards thought she shouldn't mind finding more such rings with which to don her fingers. She supposed the king and queen would keep many in their bedroom.

That morning Castle Hartland woke to horror once again. Shrills screams of departing sanity drew King Pike and the Shielding Knights running to the great hall. They carried swords, shields, spears, and daggers, yet wore cotton pyjamas or nothing more than briefs. The king himself wore a fur dressing gown.

They threw open the doors and saw before them the slaughter: limbs and viscera scattered on table, chair, and floor; and oh! so much blood. King Pike was brought to wretched tears.

When he recovered, he ran down the hall, up the winding stairs, and burst into the stately room with its purple curtains, where Sir Bear had slept that night. Sir Bear was standing by the window, engulfed by dawn's bright fire.

"You said the goblin was dead!" bellowed the king.

"My lord," Sir Bear began. He did not bow, and neither did he turn to face the king. "I hope I do not offend you by reminding you that you sent your knights to confirm the kill. The goblin that haunted your house is dead."

"Did you not hear the screams?"

Sir Bear nodded. "I did."

"Then why came you not to investigate?"

"Because I knew what I should find: the brutality of revenge. And I wish not to see it."

"Revenge? O misery! yet again you come to my house. Whatever shall we do!" The king sauntered to the bed, sat on the edge, and stared with red and weary eyes at the painting of a tall green mountain on the wall.

"Revenge you say, Bear? Yes, I think you are right, for the scene in the great hall is far worse than I have ever before seen. The goblin was a cut-throat if not a maneater, but he killed with a sort of cold and cavalier hand—it was simply all he knew how to do, you might say. But this! O Bear! O my son! It is like a child's first artwork with paint: the beast has smeared the great hall with gore. It is the most vile thing; it is malicious."

Then King Pike, that most miserable man, wept and howled.

Bear stepped away from the window, came to his new father, and wrapped an arm around him. He offered his chest, and the old man took it. The old man cried until his tears were spent. It was a humble display, and Bear loved him for it. He kissed the old man.

"Who, my son, would avenge the spawn of Kayin?"

"A mother, perchance, grieving for the death of her son."

The king's eyes darkened. His tears were suddenly dry. "Will you help us, Bear? Please. If what you say is true, and the mother of evil has indeed come, we must not wait, else the horror will return to the castle this evening to eat her pound of flesh. She needs to be sent to hell with her son. For her head, Bear, I shall grant you anything: I shall give you my crown."

"I will help you, father," said Bear. "I will find her, and I will destroy her. But your crown I shall not accept, for I was not born to be a king. I will do this for the friendship you hold with my dear Dame Helmet, and for the love I hold for you and this good house."

The king accepted this, and kissed Bear's hand for gratitude.