Keg Of Cognac

Keg of Cognac by Vee Bdosa the Doylestown Poet
Having spent the better part of my adult life making the journey
from Grove Tavely Manor to the village below, it was with some measure
of confidence that I set out to make the very same journey that particular
evening, even though I realized a portion would be in the darkness.
Had anyone told me ahead of time that I would become gravely in the danger
of confrontation with a vampire, it would have given me to somewhat
of a fit of laughter. The month was May and a cool springtime breeze was
spreading from out of the river bottoms.
I strapped the empty keg, which I was to have filled with the
finest brew available upon my arrival at the village, to the carriage
and boarded myself upon the cushioned seat. By the time I had arrived upon
the river road leading directly into the village it was dark, but I bothered
not in lighting my side lamp as there was naught to see, and my horse knew
the pathway of the road even in the pitchest of blackness.
My journey took me past Yellow Mark Inn, where there were almost
always soldiers of the king exchanging tales from the battlefront. Sometimes
some of them would become overly exicted and affected with the consumption
of brew, and Prively Morris, the innkeeper would be forced to physically
eject them from the inn. On occassion I had taken pity on them; they were,
after all, keepers of the peace and far from their own homes; and resorted
to allowing them to ride the back of my carriage into the village. As I
approached Yellow Mark Inn, I could see there was one such fellow who may
or may not have been a soldier. "If you would care to place your self upon
the back of my carriage," I said as I reined the carriage to a halt, "I
would gladly carry you to the village below, as it is a dark night that
is upon us."
The man said nothing, but merely made a grunting sound and promptly
took the position he had been offerred. I could not tell how old a man he
was as he wore a hood and cloak that was not in the manner of a soldier.
I snapped the reins briskly and we continued our journey. Before long we
were once again driving into the darkness of the road, as the light from
the inn was far behind us. The moon, nearly full and being courted by
numerous floating clouds, had risen just as we approached into the forest
that lay just around the village.
Once into the woods, the darkness was
total and except for the sound of the carriage roll and the faint whisper
of the brisk wind through the treetops, not another thing could be heard.
I had lowered my head in a near half-sleep, as had been my custom whenever
the journey was long and in the darkness. The aged steed, once a fine animal
but now wearied with age, pulling the carriage suddenly gave out a whimper,
followed by a deep grunting noise, then promptly broke into a brisk trot.
"Whoa, whoa," I said to the animal, pulling briskly back on the
reins. The horse refused to acknowledge my effort at stopping the pace, and
continued its trotting. I heard a voice from behind me, but could not make
out what the stranger was saying.
"What is it you are saying, sir?" I shouted. "I am not able to
understand over this racket of the carriage."
All at once the carriage slowed and then came to a halt. The horse
still grunted, as if sniffing its nose into the wind, occasionally stomping
his feet upon the road and dancing about in great anticipation. The right
side of the carriage was sloping backward, and I could tell we were about
to lose a wheel.
"We will have to get off and repair this wheel," I said into the
darkness in the direction of where the stranger should have been.
"I will be glad to help," replied the strangers voice coming from
the direction of the horse, who had suddenly calmed down again. "I fear I
should be of better service tending to your horse, as it appears to be
fearful of something in the dark." The voice was somewhat muffeled, as if
spoken into the hood, and sounded much like that of a very young child or
perhaps even a lady, although the thought of the stranger being a lady at
the moment never even occurred to me.
"As you wish," I said. Lighting the lamp I set about the task of
getting the wheel back onto the axle so that we might continue the journey.
As I finished the task, a great wind came about and the light went out.
There was a total absence of sound, unusual for even the night time in the
forest. Again the wind had died and its whisper above us was the only
indication of anything with any sound.
Suddenly a great whinney and racket sounded from the horse, as if
its fear had returned many times over and the animal had raised itself up
onto its hind feet and stomping at the wind with its front feet. The
carriage started abruptly, the wheel narrowly scraping me and pushing
me aside.
"Sir! Sir!" I pleaded, "Are you able to control the animal?"
I heard the sound of the hoofbeats, now in a steady run as the clatter
of the carriage disappeared into the darkness.
"Are you about, stranger?" I inquired. There was no reply, not
even a cricket which would normally be filling the night air with chirping.
In a few minutes even the sound of my carriage was absent and I set about
on foot towards the village. The darkness was giving way to a very faint
light, being the reflection from the near fullness of the moon, as the
treetops were farther apart and allowed for light to enter into the
forest. After walking for some distance, I grew weary and sat myself down
by the side of the road.
When I awoke, I was seated quite comfortably on my carriage seat.
I dismounted from the carriage and went to the back where the empty keg
was still tied.
"hello, hello, is anyone here?" I said into the coming of dawn. There
was no response, and so I guessed I was quite alone with my steed, who seemed
quite relaxed and ready to go.
I got a cup from the chute next to the keg, and opened the tap of the keg.
To my surprise, the keg was not empty at all. When I took a sip I was quite
surprised to realize it was not a light brew, but the finest cognac I have ever
tasted. After my third or seventh cup of cognac, I got back into the carriage
and let the animal choose the way back to my chateau. Closing my eyes, I let
the rein loose, and fell to sleep again.
It was not until I paused at the looking glass of the foyer in my chateau
that I noticed the two red indented marks on my jugular.
"Hello, are you here?" I said to the looking glass. "Did you manage to
repair the wheel whilst I did sleep in the darkness?"
There came no reply. But when I touched the red marks on my neck, the
blood was still quite wet, and even flowing a bit.
That is when I realized, I would never die. And I still had a full keg
of the finest cognac in France. hic

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