Build up a castle

This is not just any medieval tale, oh no. This is no fairy tale, oh no. This is a scary story: a sinister, medieval, scary story.

I’m Henry, a beggar. My dad is dead and my mum is gone. I was just a boy. But when I grew up to the age of 16, as luck would have it a knight came by and called me to his side and asked me to be his SQUIRE! – because his son was a dopey git.

I was so glad I nearly jumped for joy. But I constrained myself. I served my lord well. And the dozy dip? He lived as a farmer for the rest of his life.

Not the end!

At one point my Lord got sick. The doctor said it was fatal. I was old enough to look after myself. I was going to the school of knights, where there was not only fighting, but also self-respect and respect for others. Ah yes, I remember the Queen’s words, "Do you Sir Henry promise to protect the good?" Then I said, "I do" and the feast began. Ah yes, the good old days.

I fought lots of battles by the king’s side until he gave me permission to build a castle – and the money, of course.

MacGeorge the mason did it for half the price. George and me had a lot in common. Finally the castle was finished. George and me were good friends. True he was much older than me but that was no reason not to be friends.

We were all living happily when I heard something strange! It was 12 o’clock, midnight. It came from the church tower.

I came closer. I could hear it much better. It sounded like howling. I was nearly upstairs when it sounded like this:

‘WHOOO OOO UUUR AH AH AH OH OH EEEECH’

I was upstairs. There was a ghost!

‘I am your father, Henry,’ said the ghost.

‘You are a knight, you cannot be my father. You are the devil,’ I said.

‘That is not true,’ said the ghost.

‘I, you and your mother were very rich. You were just a baby, but one night a traitor came by and tried to kill me, you and your mum. I fought with him but failed. Mum had sneaked off with you and fed you for 2 years. Then she ran away with some other rich man and left you a beggar. Have you any idea who the traitor was?’ said the ghost.

‘No,’ I said.

‘MacGeorge the mason,’ said the ghost.

The clock struck one and the ghost vanished.

The next night I heard footsteps. There was George the mason with his sword in his hand. I grasped my sword and started fighting. George gave me a fatal blow. As I dropped to the ground, I plunged my sword through his belly. Now Dad and me are in heaven, and George is in Hell.

The End

Amsterdam, 18.10.02