“The Abbott will send a hundred men in the morning. All is in hand,” said the doorman.
“You’re not listening to me. I said there is a beast out roaming the moors led by a madman wearing horns,” cried the girl.
“Did you say horns?” came the Abbott’s voice.
“Your Grace, sorry this urchin has disturbed your peace. I’ll have a guard remove her straight away,” said the doorman.
“You’ll do no such thing,” the Abbott said.
“Beg pardon?” the man asked.
The Abbott instructed that the child be given a hot bowl of broth to warm her bones.
“What is your given name, child?” the Abbott asked.
“Is Lucia your Grace,” said the girl, then gave a deep curtsy.
“Lucia, can you please tell me everything you saw, and leave nothing out,” the Abbott instructed.
“Me and my dog were out on the downs when we saw a man leading a giant beast toward the east,” explained Lucia.
The Abbott’s brow crinkled as he listened to the man’s description.
“You say he was wearing horns, as in two sets?” the Abbott asked.
“Yes, Your Grace. One forward set was from some great ram and the back set were deer antlers,” the girl explained.
The Abbott’s face drained of blood as he gripped the corner of a nearby table. “The Bone Collector,” the man muttered.
The Abbott explained that 20 years ago a holy man named Enoch was exiled for his sins against the church.
“Brother Enoch should have expired during the following winter. During harvest, holy men started to disappear. Only the flesh was ever recovered. The bones were never found,” said the Abbott.
“That’s why you said bone collector, wasn’t it? He’s a real nutter, that one,” said the girl as she drank down the hot broth.
“Yes, I’m afraid you’re correct about that,” remarked the Abbott.
The Abbott gave Lucia a message to hand to the guardsmen at the barracks.
“I hope you catch him, Your Grace. We are suffering bad enough with the poor harvest. We don’t need any more pain,” Lucia said, then hurried down the lane.
That night the Abbott had all the clergy gather in the great hall, then barred the door.
“Each of you has your ritual dagger. If that madman attempts to gain entrance, use it as you see fit,” said the Abbott.
The morning brought an eerie stillness to Abby. The guards found the main gate and the great hall’s main entrance smashed.
“Captain, any sign of the Abbott?” the Mayor asked.
“No, sir. All my men found were strange piles of skin and torn cloth,” replied the soldier.
The Mayor bent down and examined the one next to the altar. In an instant, his eyes grew wide, and he staggered backward, crying out.
“My God, it’s the Abbott,” said the Mayor.
After the soldiers gathered the remains, they tossed them onto an enormous bonfire. Everything was burnt, leaving only ash.
“I don’t understand. Shouldn’t there be bone fragments among the ash?” the captain questioned.
“The Bone Collector was here, Captain, and God help us if he returns,” the Mayor remarked.
“I thought that was a bedtime story you told children so they would behave,” the soldier said.
“Apparently not, Captain,” the Mayor replied.
The abbey still sits empty, unable to secure a new Abbott to take up residence. Villagers believe it should be torn down, fearing the clergy’s ghosts.
No one goes there regardless. In time, nature will reclaim the land as it was before, removing any trace of an Abby and the Bone Collector.
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