 In this cave, by the restless sea, we are met 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. Phantoms of a world gone by speak again the immortal tale, The Bride of Death. This is the story of death, of a fearful prophecy fulfilled, of a love that could lead only to madness. The first ingredient was death, the cold sharp steel bite of a Scottish claymore. In a narrow street in a town near Donnerford, an old half-forgotten highland feud had flared again. Death peers over the shoulders of three young clansmen as a force twice their number beats them back. Stop a moment and see which one he chooses. Badly outnumbered, my lord. Don't let them force you out. Keep your back against the wall. Watch out, watch out, watch out. Keep your sword up, Kenneth. We'll beat them off, yet the traitor's cut out. Kenneth, Kenneth, my lord, you're bleeding. Death has chosen Kenneth, Earl of Dunbar, oldest son of the noble Scottish house. The shouted encouragement of its servant, Bruce, will not help him now. The tears of his younger brother, Douglas, come too late. Together these two carry the wounded man into the home of the Dominion. But the services of this holy man will not change the mind of death. Come, my son, let us leave the brothers alone. It's the least that we can do at this moment. You've been wounded in the service of your masters. Oh, it's only a scratch, Dominion. I'd have died for either of them. Each man must do his own dying. Even Kenneth, Earl of Dunbar. I believe the younger brother calls you Bruce. We shall have to tear your sleeve, Bruce, to dress your arms. I can't believe it, sir. You don't know his lordship. He won't let himself die. The clansmen who set upon you, were they from Black Donald's castle? No, they'd be the last to attack us. That feud has long been over. Derek McDonald's daughter Lady Margaret is to marry young Kenneth. We were on the way to the castle for the betrothal feast. But the brothers have been away from Scotland most of their lives. The Earl of Dunbar and his bride-to-be can't have seen each other since they were children. Yes, but it was all arranged by their families years ago. He was to meet his bride for the first time. Oh, you don't know how much it counts on this happiness, Dominion. I think I do, Bruce. Did you hear the words he spoke to us? Before he lost consciousness? You wouldn't find that strange if you knew Kenneth, sir. A man of iron will. There was an uncanny look in his eyes as he said it. Living or dead, he said. He'd seek her out and have her for his own. Living or dead. The dead? No. Why, he's... Yes, Bruce. Your master is dead. The betrothal feast will never see its guest of honour. Why? My son, you're trembling. Certainly, Dominion. I'm afraid you didn't know this man. I tell you it'll take more than death to stop Kenneth Earl of Dunbar. Nevertheless, death was the first ingredient. It was in the mind of Lady Margaret as a girl that the fearful prophecy was planted. But even today neither her father nor her aunt marry. No, it is there. But it was the second ingredient. It was fear. Oh, Father, you can't let me do it. I will not marry the Earl of Dunbar. I'll never marry anyone. Young Kenneth is not just anyone, Margaret. Please try to understand, Davok. Margaret's high strung. She's been alone too much. And now this sudden plan of marriage to a man she's never seen... That none of us have seen. Twenty years ago, you and Kenneth Dunbar played together as children. His father, once the feud was over, became my best friend. We have followed closely his career on the continent. A career of bloodshed and violence. A professional soldier. And now that he's returning to Scotland, you remember some absurd plan of the past to unite his clan and ours. You remember the Dunbar wealth. Margaret, that's not fair to your father. All of us consider the Earl of Dunbar a fine match for you in many ways. You've forgotten the stories of his fits of violence. His strange moods, his cruelty and overbearing willpower. Gossip. Gossip in your overwrought imagination, Margaret. I have never intended to force you into this marriage. Oh, Father, if you don't... I haven't finished, Margaret. I still don't intend to force you into it. The banquet this evening was arranged to, shall I say, bring you young people together? Let it rest at that. But of one thing I am determined. If you reject the Earl of Dunbar, young Kenneth, you shall have no other husband while I live. Thank you, Father. Thank you. The guests have already begun to arrive. The guest of honour will be here before sundown. We both have duties to perform, Margaret. Now that he's gone, come here and sit beside me. I'm sorry I acted so silly, Aunt Mary, but if you only understood how I feel... I think I do, dear. You're frightened. I am, but not of young Kenneth Dunbar. It's grandfather's prophecy, Aunt Mary, that frightens me. Nonsense. Black Donald may have been eccentric, but he couldn't foretell the future, Margaret. And then there was a story that he'd made a bargain with death for being rescued from this room. And a prophecy of some kind that no one ever knew about. And it's this superstitious nonsense that's been frightening you, Margaret. It isn't nonsense, Aunt Mary. You see, I found the prophecy. It says, the last born of Black Donald's clan shall be the bride of death. Oh, you poor child. Who've been living in the shadow of that fear and all on account of that crazy old man. The bride of death. Oh, don't look like that, Margaret. I can't imagine anyone more alive than Kenneth. You could hardly call the Earl of Dunbar a specter bridegroom. I know, and yet somehow I'm afraid. There we have two ingredients. All we have to do is to mix them. Perhaps woven together in just the right pattern, they might create a dark tapestry of madness. Twilight has fallen over the wildness of the moors, and a soft wind moans through the trees in the garden back of the castle. Lady Margaret has slipped away from her guests. Forgive me if I do not rise, Lady Margaret. I have traveled far to get here, and very tired. Oh, I'm sorry. I was so silly. Or it was rather start, Dane. I hadn't seen anyone come into the garden. I came through the little gate at the far end. But we never used that. I mean, I didn't know anyone knew of it except myself. It's all overgrown and with the moor beyond. I remembered it from many years ago. My home once lay across the moor. But then why, of course, oh, I should have seen the resemblance to your father. You're the Earl of Dunbar. You're surprised, Margaret? No. Somehow I knew you and my friend. But you're different in a way, Kenneth. Quieter, more gentle than I'd expected. There is much that can change a man, Margaret. But you're just as I pictured you, dreamed of you through the years. Lovely, gracious. A warm heart to welcome me home at last. Perhaps. Don't you think we'd better go in, Kenneth? Oh, you're shivering, Margaret. Are you cold? No. No, it isn't that, Kenneth. I just happened to think of something. Perhaps you remember my grandfather. Black Dawn? What Highlander doesn't. That might be he coming down the path this moment. That's my father, Kenneth. I'm afraid he's going to be angry at you for appearing like a ghost out of nowhere. His anger cannot reach me, Margaret. I'm beyond all human emotion now, except my love for you. To have found you at last, that's all that's left. I haven't time for words, but you feel it too. I know you do. Nothing can separate us, Margaret. Not even death. Welcome to Black Dawnal Castle, my lord. I had almost given you up. You see, father, Kenneth slipped in by the back way. I happen to see him here. I know, Margaret. Your servant told me I'd find you here, Kenneth. The man is strangely frightened. Bruce has had a trying day, sir, David. We both have. I hope you'll excuse us early. Nonsense, my boy. You'll spend the night here. No, come along. My guests are anxious to meet you. Your fame has preceded you to Karen Nagasha. Even so, it's come too late. What's the matter, Kenneth? You're not well. You look a trifle pale, my boy. It's nothing, sir David. A recent wound I lost a lot of blood. Margaret, please stay near me. My time is short. But time is not an ingredient, nor space. One evening may be an eternity, or it may only be a fraction of a fraction when love awaits the tolling of the midnight bell. Oh, there you are, David. I've been looking for you. It's nearly midnight and the guests are expecting a toast to the Earl of Dunbar. Mary, I don't understand that young man's behavior. All evening he's avoided me. He's avoided everyone, David, except Margaret. I don't think his eyes have left her face all evening. It's very strange. I have an uncanny feeling he means her harm. Mary, do you think I've made a mistake? My daughter and a man we know nothing of? I've never seen Margaret look so happy, David. Can this in spite of the fear she's carried? Clan or no clan, I've a good mind to put a stop to the whole affair. I've been too hasty. A highlender for a son, not a pale-faced imitation, no matter how noble his family. But no one say McDonald gave his daughter to be the bride of a bloodless ghost of a man. The bride of death? For heaven's sake, pull yourself together, woman. Our friends are staring at you. Your daughter and the Earl of Dunbar, they're together in the courtyard now. And what of that, Wallace? His lordship has ordered his horse. He means to leave. And, Sir David, he means to take Lady Margaret with him. What? He avoids me like the plague and seeks to take my daughter from me without so much as by your leave? Come, Wallace, get my sword and bring your own as well. It seems the donals must once again teach the house of Dunbar its manner. Sir David, Lady Margaret too, the servant already mounted. Over there by the gate. See? This the way the Earl of Dunbar repays the hospitality of the donals to steal my daughter like a common thief. I'll brook no more interference of my wishes. Join your aunt and wait for me. And now, sir, what have you to say? Only that I shall return and take your daughter with me. Pied like donals, sir! That you'll never do. You and your henchmen shall know the anger of my clan from this day on. The anger of the donals cannot reach me now, Sir David. Nor any other human being, except your daughter's love. I must go. Before the final stroke of midnight, I must leave this place. And it is well you do, young man, if you value your life. I place no value on that which I no longer have, Sir David. Go tomorrow to the great Kirk in the town, and you shall understand my meaning. You are mad! The same madness that claimed your father before you. It is not madness that has claimed me, Sir David. This death. The ingredients have gone into our story but one. The fear in the mind of Lady Margaret is the result of Black Donald's prophecy that the last born of his line would be the bride of death. The fulfillment of this dire foreboding seemed close at hand when her promised bridegroom, Kenneth, Earl of Dunbar, was stabbed to death on the day of his betrothal feast. Had this been known to Margaret, his first appearance before her might have brought madness with it. Instead, it added the ingredient of love. But now, Sir David MacDonald, Margaret's father, has added the most potent ingredient of all. His anger at his noble guest's behavior brought forth truth. Always a dangerous ingredient. To Black Donald Castle, it has brought terror and the dark suspicion that the specter bridegroom will return to claim his bride. Lady Mary, is there no change in her condition? She hardly looks alive. No, Davok, none of your doctors have been able to rouse her. From midnight last and all through the day I've been by her side, chamber, she hasn't moved or spoken. The events of last night have affected her mind, Mary. I wish I'd never heard of a house of Dunbar. If this ghastly story is true... Davok, in your mind you're as sure as I am that we entertained a ghost last night. Else why should Wallace have ridden to town for you this morning? It's time he returned. Deep in your heart you'll know the fear of all of us. Who loved Margaret? I could see it in your eyes when you returned from the courtyard last night to blurt out that awful story before your guests. It was a mistake I admitted, Mary. But how was I to know that Margaret had discovered Black Donald's prophecy? How was I to know her horror of being the bride of death? You should never have promised her to a man we hadn't seen. You knew the reputation of Kenneth Dunbar. A strange, wild Highlander with an iron will that has given him life even in death and now his threat to take her with him. Quiet woman. Dunbar shall go back to his grave without her. The Donald's fear no man living or dead. Sir Davok. Wallace, come in quickly. But you do not need to speak. I can read the answer in your face. We heard the truth from the lips of a dead man last night. It is true, sir Davok. His lordship was killed while I was way to the castle. I could not even get near the Kirk. Plansmen from the hills of Portland town have you his bodies that lies in state. Don't be frightened. No harm shall come to you. Watch over her well, Mary. It may be that she will awaken soon. I must decide what shall be done. Come, Wallace, we have much to think of. Margaret, child, try to hear me. This evil thing will never reach you. I shall watch over you. Try to forget your fears. Forget all about the Earl of Dunbar. She has no fear of me, lady Mary. You? Oh, no. No, it can't be her. I came from the balcony, lady Mary. Please do not be afraid. Don't move away. No. No, you shan't have her. Never. I... Oh. Kenneth, you've come back for me. Yes, Margaret, as I promised. But the time has not yet come. You are ill. We must wait a little while. But you will come back for me. Very soon, my darling, through the fears of those about you, through the dark prophecies of the past I have come. You're not afraid? My fear was only that you'd left me, Kenneth. There are no words that matter anymore. I only know that I love you, that you're unhappy, that you need me. We shall be together soon. Come, sleep now, and know that from windswept moors outside your window I shall be watching over you. The ingredients of life do not always mix as you expect them to. The poison of fear can often be cleared away by the potency of love. But the clansmen of Lady Margaret had no such protection as they looked upon the powerful ingredient of truth. Within the great stone walls of Black Donald Castle, the terror of the specter bridegroom grew as the days went by. One night, as the wind lashed the rain across the moors and rattled the ancient casements in the great hall, Sardavic paced uneasily before the fire. In the name of heaven wallies, come away from that window. There's nothing to see. Warm yourself here by the fire. It's a fearful night, Sardavic. I don't mind that the specter bridegroom may be abroad again. Watching won't keep him away. No guards either, for that matter. Did Lady Mary tell you that one of my men saw the black figure climbing down the vines beneath Margaret's window? Aye, and that he vanished before his very eyes. It's a common talk throughout the castle. They think of nothing else, Wallace. I swear it's like living with people who have lost their minds. It's Lady Margaret's health that concerns me, Sardavic. She will not eat. She will talk to no one. After days and half her nights, watching from a window overlooking the garden. You waste your breath telling me these things, Wallace. I know what's in your mind only too well. You think my daughter is mad, that she has come to think of herself as the bride of death. I do, Sardavic. As well as I love the Lady Margaret, I've seen the light in her eyes. It isn't fear, I swear. The lass is waiting for this dead man, this Earl of Dunbar, to return. Wallace, you're one of my most faithful henchmen. But you're as bad as the rest. This talk is driving me daft. Go back to your window if you must, but hold your tongue. Sardavic, Sardavic. What is it, Mary? Is Margaret all right? She's gone, Sardavic. Vanished. Her room is empty. I thought I told you to lock her in at night. A few minutes ago she called for me, and asked for a glass of water. I left the door unlocked to fetch it, and when I came back, she was no longer there. The room has come for her. Quiet, woman. She's not well. She may have wandered alone out into the storm. Wallace, call out the guards and have horses saddle for all. We'll search every crag, every inch of the moor, every road until my daughter is found. I'll have her back though I feel the dead hens of Kenneth Dunbar at my throat. Wallace, book yonder. You see that faint light glimmering through the rain? It's from some house, Sardavic. Come. The men have already turned off. We must hurry. No, Wallace. That's no house. I wonder I didn't think of it before. It is there that we shall find Lady Margaret. I pray we're still in time. I think we're in the neighborhood of Dunbar Castle, Sardavic, but not near enough to see a light. True. But we're close upon the ancient chapel of the family built centuries ago. That gloomy place has been sealed as long as I can remember. No one's been near for years. You're mistaken. Within the week the place has been occupied. That Kenneth Earl of Dunbar was buried there. Come, Wallace. Leave the horses, Wallace. Hurry. I see the chapel door stands ajar. This is not to my liking, Sardavic. If I could get them then... There's no time for that, you fool. Quickly now. Look. Up front near the altar. Lady Margaret and the dead man. And the nominee from the town clerk stands before them. His lips are moving. Perhaps he prays. All the prayers in Scotland will not bring life to that bloodless youth. We must stop this sacrilege. Follow close. Dominic, hold your blessing. You do not know the revolting blasphemy you commit. You're too late, Father. We fear your anger no longer. There's nothing you can do to separate us now. Margaret, if you think a Donald will stand by to see his daughter snatched from him by the hand of death, MacDonald, please, and the name of the friendship you once bore my father was no bargain that my daughter should be your... Your bride in death. Sardavic, the night of the feast I was suffering in mind and body. I could not speak the news I bore. You lie. At midnight from your own bloodless lips, I heard you. Your unjust accusation drove me to it. Although I have loved Margaret from the beginning of memory, I was ready to say farewell. Gentlemen, gentlemen, this is no place to fight with words or swords. If Sardavic objects to this marriage... Objects! This man is dead. The Earl of Dunbar has sold his soul to the devil to come back from the grave. David MacDonald, Earl of Dunbar, sleeps peacefully in the vault below us. His younger brother Douglas has just been joined in wedlock to your daughter. What? Douglas? Douglas Dunbar? I don't condone the false impression given you by the present Earl, nor do I condone the secret wooing of your daughter. But of his love, there is no doubt. And I love him, Father. Even before I knew he wasn't Kenneth, I loved him. Nothing mattered. Even Black Donald's prophecy. Douglas Delamond. That title, given by the Normans to the second sons of the House of Dunbar, has long been forgotten, Sardavic. I ask your forgiveness for playing the role again. I could not withhold it if I would. All this had to be my son. Douglas Delamond. Douglas of death. Margaret was fordained by Black Donald himself to be your bride. The bride of death. Sometimes the ingredients of life seem to brew a dark and terrible potion. And yet, and yet there's always one final ingredient that's always there. Call it what you will. Luck. Chance. Fate. It is always there. From the time worn pages of the past, we have brought you the immortal tale. The bride of death. The bride of death. The bride of death. The bride of death. Bell Keeper.