 The weird circle. In this cave, by the restless sea, we are meant to call from out the past stories, strange and weird. Bellkeeper, hold the bell, so all may know we are gathered again in the weird circle. Out of the past, phantoms of a world gone by speak again the immortal tale, the feast of red gauntlet. Many men dead, hanging on a gibbet, hanging and swaying, and the gibbet creaking in the wind. It's not a pretty picture that the swinging branches recall tonight, but it never heard their mournful movement without my thoughts gone backwards, backwards to the doer years, the terrible times of Sir Robert Red Gauntlet. This countryside will long remember him, for our fathers used to draw breath thick when they heard him named. I, Steeney Steenson, was his tenant, and I and every tenant man in Sir Robert Red Gauntlet's ground had to join the master in his killing raids on the liberal wigs. That night, Red Gauntlet hung three neighbour men on you. My heart was like a stone, but I held no ill will against the men myself, and worse luck would have it, I was the last man to leave the frightful scene for Davey, my old horse went lame on me. The three dead men hung high over my head, the gibbet creaking and swaying as I looked over Davey. And all of a sudden, a stranger rode up through the woods, a lean Gaunt creature he was, and loose ill-fitting clothes, and his white mare made no sound as she stepped under my branches. I stood frozen a minute, and then somehow I plucked courage to say, What are you, man of spirit? I'm a stranger to you, though I'm not a stranger in these woods. Do you know where you are, Steeney Steenson? Not rightly, sir. We rode and rode and I drank a deal of brandy for a... I didn't like the business we were about, and I paid little attention to our direction. This is the wood of the dead, Steeney. If you kill in these woods, and you linger long enough for me to find you, then you must give an accounting. I'll have you, no sir. I had no partner hanging of those three men there, rest of souls. But your very presence gave consent. Did you protest? As a red gauntlet, my fathers and forefathers lived on his land. And it's the unwritten law, sir, we think and do as a red gauntlet. But have no stomach for killing men and accounting their opinions. A man like you of weak will, Steeney Steenson, let the red gauntlets of the world rule with bloody hands. But you're in the wood of the dead tonight. And to these three men who hang on the gibbet, you must make some restitution. And how can I do anything now for dead men? They leave families, Steeney, young ones and wives. You have a bag of silver hidden in your chimney at home. You must divide it among the three widows. But how can I do that, man? The money's for my rent. I have little gift for saving. And I'm two terms back now for the rent due to red gauntlet. There's just the right amount of the bag. And it's all the money I have, sir. How you will pay your rent must be your own worry. But you shall not leave these woods tonight alive unless I know that you mean in your heart to divide that bag of silver among the three widows. Well, I'm no man to be blind to the corner the wind blows in. I don't know who you are or what you are, stranger. Maybe I'd soon not know. But I can feel you mean every word you say. I'll divide the money among the three families, sir. Good. We'll meet again, Steenie Stinson. Someday. A very good night to you. And a good night, stranger. I stouted to say it, but the horseman and horse had vanished, fairly melted into the woods before it could finish my words. Not a sound the maid as the white male stepped with a fine gate on the dead dry twigs. But keep my word I did to the ghostly stranger. The very next morning I went to the three widows and gave them the money. Now came the problem for the rent. For Sir Robert Redgortlet was no man to be put off for more than two terms. And I was due to pay him that very day. Now, I'd done many a man a favor in the countryside be playing the bagpipes at weddings and all that sort of merriment. And I was what you might call in demand. So I went to the friends my bagpipes had made for me and asked them for the lonesome silver. From about 20 sources I picked up the money to make the full amount. I played a trot to Redgortlet's castle with a heavy purse. The old serving man, Dougal McCollum, met me in the great hall. He seemed beside himself with worry as he said. Steamy the master is in an evil mood for he's suffering hard with a gout. Well, pay the render must gout or no gout. By the way, Dougal, is Sir Robert's pet monkey, what's his name there with him today? Aye, the monkey made you wear sitting like an evil spirit in his little red lace jacket, perched on the master's shoulder. Ah, it's afraid he'd be. I hate that little jack-o'-n-apes. Well, come on, I'd like to get this business over. This way, Steamy. I've never seen the master looks so bad. But don't you tell him so. Come in, come in. Don't be so slow about it. What are you, snails crawling in? Shut you jack-o'-n-apes and I'll give you the back of my hand. Dougal, take the monkey off my shoulder. Sire, the major's full of chatter today. Come, monk. Ah, they sit down like a good little beast on your pillow. Sir Robert, Steany Steenson's come to pay his rent. Yes, Sir Robert, here I am. I see you, man, I see you. Have you come right-handed, your son of a thistle? No, Sir Robert, the rent for two terms is right here in the bag. Well, I'm surprised to get it all at once. Oh! Oh, this place is gouted enough to drive a man to make a pact with the devil himself. Oh, don't say things like that, Sir Robert. The evil one might hold you, too. Ah, you hypocrite, Steany. You know as well as I do that everyone believes I've already made a pact with the devil and everyone's sure of where I'm going when I die. I never listen to gossip, Sir Robert. Now, if you'll count this silver and give me the receipt, I'd best be going. All right, Steany. Dougal, take Steany to the hall and give him a cup of brandy. While I count the silver and make out the receipt. Come along, Steany, with some right fine brandy just down from Edinburgh. I am never a man, Dougal, to refuse a sample. Oh, my feet! This old blasted gout. Dougal! Bring me a bowl of cold water. The master is having an attack again. Oh, my heart! My heart! That's a matter. What can I do, Dougal? Listen, Master, what's Steany? Steany, run, man. Get on your horse and fly for the doctor. I'll do that, Sir Robert. Looks bad to me. Out of Red Gauntlet's castle, I rode as fast as I could and rode hard to bring Dr. McKinney. I felt in my bones this was no light illness of Red Gauntlet's. The doctor and I were soon back in the castle. And as we opened the door, I thought how uncommonly quiet it was. Then old Hutchin, the button had come toward us. You're too late, Steany, with the doctor. Steany and I rode as fast as we could. What happened, man? The worst. Sir Robert Red Gauntlet is dead. Heaven keep his soul. Well, well, that's sad news, Hutchin. Of course I'll have to confirm the death and make out the proper papers. Yes, sir. I know. This way, please, sir. I tapped toad out and left that place of death, for I knew it only be in the way. And so deep was I, in the thoughts of Red Gauntlet's end, that I was a fair way home when, of a sudden, I remembered. Hadn't I left the silver for the rent there and never got a receipt? But then I considered old Dugle was a witness to the fact that I'd brought them on it. And in due time, it would all be put to right. And so the matter would have been had not the uncarnious bad luck happened the night before Red Gauntlet's funeral. That night, old Dugle invited Hutchins to his room for a round of drinks before they went to bed. Hutchins told me more than once about that strange night. Hardly was he seated in the room when Dugle said, Hutchins, we've both served the dead master a long, long time. Aye. And though Red Gauntlet may have used an iron hand to others, he was good to us. Well, here's long life to you, Dugle. Thank you, Hutchins. But I know I'm not long for this work. Oh, come now. Don't let the master of death make you morbid. It's not that I'm morbid, but you know the master and I were more like two brothers. I've followed Sir Robert through good and ill, through pull and strain. I've followed with a blind devotion. And though the master goes to the evil place, I too would have to follow. And I think it won't be long. Man, man, get hold of yourself. I'll begin to think Sir Robert's death has turned your reason. You're sure to think that when you hear what I have to tell you. As you know, Red Gauntlet lies in state in his own room. And I've been sleeping as usual in the room which adjoins his. If you remember, Sir Robert used to blow on his small silver whistle for me to come and turn him over in his bed. Well, Hutchins, as true as I'm alive this minute, every night since Red Gauntlet's death, I've heard that whistle. I've heard that silver whistle blow the night. Dugle, you make me here stand on end. Man, you must have dreamed such a thing. I did not dream it. I heard the silver whistle. And so frozen was I with terror that I did not stir. But in the daytime my conscience hurt me. For I can't let even death break my service to Sir Robert. Listen, there, there it is. Red Gauntlet's silver whistle. The Lord keep our souls. It's an awful thong. I've got to go, Hutchins. I've got to answer Red Gauntlet's call, just as I used to. But, man, you cannot be turning the corpse over in its bed. I've got to go. Stand by me, Hutchins. At least go with me to Red Gauntlet's door. I have no will for such doings, but I can't fail you in a pinch like this. Come then. The master is impatient. Never did this hall seem so long, Dugle. Aren't we too adult-headed old men to be answering a silver whistle blown by a dead man? And on second thoughts, Dugle, maybe we only imagined we heard the whistle. What did not dream it, Hutchins? Well, we're near to the master's bedroom now. A dread open in the door. Aye. The light of the candles might reveal to us more than we want to see. But open the door, we must. Dugle, look. The dead master lies just as we left him. Dead and quiet. But, Hutchins, look. Look on the foot of the bed. It's the foul-fiend himself, the evil one. Oh! So shocked were Dugle and Hutchins by the sight of the evil one sitting there at the foot of Red Gauntlet's bed that the faint had dead away. Finally, when Hutchins came out of the faint and gathered his wits about him, he found old Dugle lying in a heap dead. Dugle had joined Red Gauntlet in the last long journey. Now, when I heard about Dugle's death, I felt sad indeed, but I'm afraid I felt more pity for myself than anyone for Dugle was the only witness to the silver I'd left for the two terms of rent. Now, Sir Robert Red Gauntlet's son, Sir John, had come up from London for the funeral and to put things to right. In due time, he called me to come to see him for I knew for certain he would. I stood before him in the great hall and Sir John said, Steenie Steenson, you're down here for two terms rent. That's a whole year. Pleasure, honours, Sir John. I paid it to your father. Oh, you've got a receipt then, Dr. Steenie, and can produce it? Indeed, I had in time, Sir, for no sooner had I sat down the silver and Sir Robert was drawn the bag to him when he was taken with the pains that took him out of this wall. Oh, that's very unlucky. But perhaps you paid it in the prisons of somebody. Aye, Sir John. There was no beating in the room, but Dugle, McCall, and as your honour knows, he soon followed the dead master. Very unlucky again, Steenie. It's very strange to me that no one has told me that a bag of silver was found on the table after my father died. Perhaps the bottle hutch and knows something about it, Sir. All right, I'll see what he has to say. Hatchen! Hatchen! Yes, Sir John? Hatchen, I wonder that I was never told about a bag of silver left by Steenie Steemson. The day my father died. It should have been found on this very table by which my father had been sitting. But we found no bag of silver, Sir. I came running at once when the master cried out, and it was I who put the room to rights after we'd carried out the body. But it did leave the money right there on the table. Well, Hatchen, there's only one thing to do. Call all the servants together and question them. Hmm. And if I can find no proof that the bag of silver was stolen, what story then are you going to tell me, Steenie? Where will you suggest we look for the money? In the able place, if you want my opinion, Sir. In the able place with your father and his silver whistle. I paid the money for the whole year's rent, and there's an ender. Oh, no, it's not. You will produce the rent or the receipt for the rent by this time tomorrow. Or I shall have you put on chains. Knock it out! I rode away from the castle fairly seen red. Here I was, the same Steenie Steinsen who only a few weeks before had been the most popular piper in the countryside, the toast of every feast in frolic. And now, over a sudden, men would be calling me names, a thief, a cheat, and worse. I rode on and on. Little Karen wore my horse, Davy, led me. Finally, I realized I was in a thick patch of wood. And I noticed, over a sudden, that beside me was riding the stranger, the lean, gaunt man in ill-fitting clothes on a white mare, a white mare that made no sound as she stepped on dry branches. Just as the night of the hanging, I said, what are you, man of spirit? I'm your friend, Steenie. I've come to help you. Unless you can lend me money. There's no other help you can give me in this world. But there may be some help in another world. Now, I can tell you this. Robert Redgaunter is disturbed in his grave by your curses and black thoughts of him. And if you will venture to see him, he will give you the receipt. Stranger. I have the courage to go to the very gates of the evil place and a step further for that matter, for that receipt. All right, then, Steenie. Turn sharply to the left. Make your horse wind in and out of that thick settlement of black fur. Here we are. But I can't believe no one eyes her. We're in the courtyard of that gauntlet's castle, where the estate is miles away from this place. Yours is not to question, Steenie. Go to the castle door. Dougal will let you in. Dougal? Where the man's is dead is immacrily. What place am I in, sir? Courage, Courage, Steenie. Remember, you must get that receipt. Go to the door. Yes, sir. Go, I will. For it is soon be dead myself as to be in the fix I'm in. Well, Davy, my good horse. Goodbye. If I don't come back, you'll know I've gone to... Heavenly days. There's Dougal standing there waiting at the door for me. Dougal. Dougal, man. I never thought to see you live again. I'm not alive, Steenie. Aye. Now listen carefully. When you're inside Red Gauntlet's castle, take nothing from anybody there, neither meat or drink or silver, for they will bind you to that unholy party. Take nothing except that receipt which is your own. Come. Oh, Dougal. What a ghastly scene of revelers. There's the fierce Middleton, and the disolute Roths, and the crafty Lord of them, and the wild Bunshaw, and all the other wicked ones I've known and played the bagpipes for at feast, and every one of them dead now. Can you ever see them laughing and rattling there? But take note, Steenie, and death has in life. It's my master, Sir Robert Red Gauntlet, who has the place of honor at the feast. Hello, friends. It's Steenie Steenson. Look who's come to visit us. Come close, Steenie, and come close. Hey, yes, sir. How's your health, sir, Robert? Did you hear that, men? How's my health? Why, Steenie, it's as bad as could be expected. Well, I'm sorry, sir. But where's Major, your monkey? It seems strange to see you without your patsum. Here is a little cushion ready for the monk. And before nightfall tomorrow, the little ape will be with me. Well, now, let's get to business. You've come here for that receipt for your year's rent, haven't you, Steenie? Yes, sir, and if you'll kindly give it to me, I'll go. Oh, but first you must play me a tune of the bagpipes. Joggle, Joggle, your demobile's above. Bring Steenie the pipes I've been keeping for him. Robert, sir, Robert, this scene in your awesome presence has fairly taken my breath away. I fear I have none left to play the pipe, sir. Then you must eat and drink Steenie, for we do little else here. And it's likely to be ill-speakin' between a full man and a fast one. I've not come to eat or drink, sir, but simply for what's mornin'. Give me that receipt. All right, young pitiful kerf. All right, here and now. Joggle! Bring me the quail. I have everything ready, sir. We are here. This 25th of November, from my appointed place, I, sir Robert Brett Gunklett, do a search that Steenie Steenson paid me in silver one year's rent. Here, Steenie's your receipt. Tell my rogue of a son to go look for the bag of silver in the cat's cradle. In the cat's cradle, yes, sir. Thank you, sir. No, no, no, not so fast, my man. I am not done with you. Here we do nothing for nothing. On a year this very day, you must return and play the pipe for me. That will be your payment and my blayer. I didn't care a lot for your pleasure, son. I'd have found myself only to the good Lord. At the mention of the holy name, it seemed to me that the whole earth shook, and I lost both breath and scent. When it came to it was early morning. I was in the woods, a full five miles from home. In daily, my horse was feeding nearby. And then I laughed. And I thought what a nightmare of a dream I had. But then, I realized, I was holding something tight in my hands. And I looked. And I found a hell of a seat for the rent, signed by Sir Robert Redgarment. With my mind fairly in a daze, I rode it once to the castle, and demanded to see Sir John. Looking like a fresh thunderstorm, Sir John greeted me with sour words. If you have come with excuses, save your breath, Steeney. Have you brought me the rent? No, sir, I have not. But I brought Sir Robert's receipt for it. But you told me only yesterday that he had not given you one. Well, Your Honor, please look at this bit of writing. Hmm, all right. Hmm. It looks like my father's hand, I must say. This 25th of November from my appointed place. But the 25th of November was yesterday. If you got this receipt, Steeney, you must have gone to Haley's fort. I got it from Your Honor's father, sir. Whether he be in heaven or someplace else, I don't know. And besides, Sir Robert sent a message to you. He said you were to look for the bag of silver at the catch cradle. I'm beginning to think you're either mad or a sorcerer. And I hope you recall it was only a month ago in the village when a sorcerer was burned at the stake. I'd met of a long strange tale to tell, sir, but you'll only believe it if we do find that bag of silver at the catch cradle. Oh, I never heard such childish nonsense. I don't know any place around here by that name. Please, sir, ask old Hutchin. He knows things about the castle that everybody else has forgot. All right, all right. Your reign, sir? Hutchin, do you know a place about the castle called a catch cradle? Oh, yes, sir. It's a ruinous turret long out of use next to the clockhouse. One can only get to it by a ladder for the openings on the outside. It's many long years since I've heard anyone inquire about the catch cradle. Thank you, Hutchin. Come along, Stiney. We'll go to the catch cradle and see what we find. Just in case I need it, I think I'll take this pistol that was my father's. For what purpose, sir? It has silver bullets. And they say that silver bullets are the only kind effective against mad men and sorcerers. Come, Stiney. Yes, sir. I hope for your sake I find something up here, Stiney. What? What could that be? Sir John, that's your father's silver whistle. Come down, sir. Come down. I'm afraid you'll see that, sir. Nonsense. I'll find that out for myself. There's red gauntlet's pet monkey, Major Weir. Look, look, Stiney. It's the monkey that's blowing the whistle. Be careful, sir John. That monkey can be mean. Awful mean, sir. Oh, I can take care of myself. Give me that whistle, you little ape. Watch out. The monkey'll stretch your eyes out. Get away from me! Get away! Do it! Can you see inside the turret now? Too bad I had to shoot him. Yes. Yes. Now find the bag of silver, Stiney. Here. Here. Got you. A little thief of an ape. He stole the bag and hid it there. Now, watch out. I'm coming down. Oh. Oh. That turret's full of the junk the monkey stole. I'll have hutch and clean it out. Sir John, I guess you'll have to believe I'm not a liar now. Yes. We've solved the mystery of the missing bag of silver. Perhaps another mystery. I believe it was the monkey that blew the silver whistle those nights. Dougal thought it was my dead father. But we haven't solved the mystery of the receipt, Stiney. But I did talk to your father last night, and he gave me that receipt. For proof, didn't I deliver your father's message to go look at the cat's fraggle for the bag of silver? Yes, Stiney, and I'm very worried. If this story gets out, we'll know what the villagers will say. That you must have strange powers. That you must be a sorcerer. I know, Sir John. And I was all self-thinking. It wouldn't be to your credit if your good family's name for the story to get about where your father's gone. But I swear it wasn't in heaven that I found myself last night. Hmm. I see what you mean, Stiney. Well, shall we agree to keep the secret just between us? Aye, Sir John, we'll keep it. Maybe we can tell it someday to our grandchildren, for they'll think they're so modern they won't believe the story anyway. From the time-worn pages of the past, we have brought you the story, The Feast of Red Gauntlet. Bellkeeper, toll the bell!