The night I woke up dead I do not know what time you double the bells, its sound monotonous and eternal brought me to mind the tradition that I heard recently in Soria.
tried to sleep again, impossible! Once stung, the imagination is a horse that runs wild and serves not tug on the reins. Just for fun I decided to write it, as indeed it did. I
I heard in the same place of occurrence, and sometimes I wrote back in fear when the head was cracked glass of my balcony, shivering from the cold night air.
Be that as it wants, there is, as the horse drinks. Bind
I
-dogs: do the signal with the tubes to meet the hunters, and turn around the city. The night is coming, is the Feast of All Saints and we are in Monte de las Animas.
- So soon!
-A be another day, do not leave me to conclude that herd of wolves Moncayo snows have driven from their burrows, but today is impossible. Soon prayer ring in the Templars, and the souls of the dead begin to ring his bell in the chapel of Mt.
- In the ruined chapel! Bah! Want to scare me?
"No, fair cousin, you ignore what is happening in this country, because not even a year ago has come to him from afar. Restrain your mare, I'll put mine in passing, and throughout the way you tell that story.
The pages gathered in joyful and noisy groups, the counts of Borges and Alcudiel mounted their magnificent horses, and together they followed their children Beatrice and Alonso, who preceded the procession some distance. While
lasted the way Alonso told in these terms the promised story:
"That hill is now called the Animas, belonged to the Templars, whose convent see there on the riverbank. The Templars were warriors and religious at once. Soria was conquered from the Moors, the king had come from distant lands to defend the city by the bridge, making it noticeable injury to his nobles of Castile, which alone had managed to defend well as single conquered.
Among the new knights of the Order and powerful nobles of the city fermented for several years, and broke at last, a deep hatred. The former had bounded the mountain, where boar reserved to meet their needs and contribute to their pleasures, and the latter determined to organize a major raid on the box, despite the severe restrictions of the clergy with spurs, as they called their enemies.
Voice of challenge ensued, and nothing was partly to stop one in his hobby of hunting and the other in their efforts to prevent it. The proposed expedition was conducted. She did not remember the wild beasts earlier this many mothers would have dragged two separate mourning for their children. That was not a hunt, it was a terrible battle, the mountain was littered with corpses, wolves kill those who did had a bloody feast. Finally, speaking the king's authority: the Mount, damn occasion of so many misfortunes, was declared abandoned, and religious chapel, located on the same hill and in whose court they were buried together friends and enemies, began to ruin.
Since then say that when night falls the dead one double hear the chapel bell, and that the souls of the dead, wrapped in shreds of shrouds, run like a fantastic hunt in between the bushes and brambles. Roar frightened deer, wolves howling, hissing snakes are horrific, and the next day have been printed in the snow the footsteps of the fleshless feet of the skeletons. Soria's why we call the Monte de las Animas, so I wanted to out of it before closing night.
Alonso's relationship ended just as the two young men reached the end of the bridge that leads into the city on that side. They waited for the rest of the party, which, after the two riders incorporárseles, was lost among the narrow, dark streets of Soria.
II
servers had just lifted the cloth, the tall chimney Gothic palace of the Counts of live Alcudiel glow lighting off a few groups of ladies and gentlemen around the fire talking familiarly, and the wind shook the leaded glass in Salon warheads. Solas
two people appeared outside the general conversation: Beatriz y Alonso: Beatriz kept his eyes, lost in a vague thought, the vagaries of the flame. Alonso looked a reflection of the fire sparkling in the blue eyes of Beatrice.
Both had long kept a profound silence.
The owners concerned, regarding the night of the dead, dark tales in which the spectra and represent the main role appeared, and the bells of the churches of Soria folded into the distance with a sad monotonous ringing. "Beautiful
primary Alonso said at last break the long silence in which they were," we will soon parted, perhaps forever, the arid plains of Castile, their crude customs and warlike, patriarchal habits simple and I know you do not like, I heard you sigh several times, perhaps by some distant lover in your manor. Beatriz
waved a cold indifference, all female character is revealed in this contemptuous contraction of his thin lips.
"Perhaps by the pomp of the French court, where you have lived here," she hastened to add the young man. In one way or another, I feel that I shall soon lose ... When we separated, I would like you to take a memory of me ... Do you remember when we went to the temple to give thanks to God for having restored health to find what you came to this land? The jewel that held the pen my cap captivated your attention. How beautiful it would be holding a veil over your dark hair! And has caught the of a bride, my father gave it to who gave me being, and she took him to the altar ... You want it?
I do not know in yours, "replied the beautiful-but in my country received a pledge committing a will. Only a day of ceremony should accept a gift from the hands of a debt ... you can still go to Rome without returning empty-handed.
The ice cream accent that Beatrice was speaking a moment the young man was troubled, after calming said sadly: "I know
premium, but today are held All Saints, and yours to all, today is a day of ceremonies and present. Will you accept mine? Beatriz
slightly bit her lip and reached out to take the gem, without a word. The two young
fell silent again, and went to listen to the cracked voice of old who spoke of witches and goblins and the hum of the air that was cracked glass of the warheads, and a sad monotonous tolling of the bells.
After several minutes, the dialogue became a knot broken in this way:
"And before the end of the feast of All Saints, in which yours and mine is held, and can, without tying up your will, leave me a memory Do not you do? "He said nailing a look at her cousin, who shone like lightning, illuminated by a diabolical mind.
- Why not? "Cried this touching his right shoulder to find something among the folds of his wide sleeve velvet embroidered with gold ... Then, with a childlike expression of sentiment, added:
- Do you remember the blue band takes to the hunt, and who do not know what color emblem told me it was the currency of your soul?
"Yes.
"Well ... Lost! Is lost, and thought it has to stay as a memory.
- has been lost!, And where? Alonso asked sitting up from his seat and with an indescribable expression of fear and hope. I do not know ....
on the mountain just in case.
- In the Monte de las Animas "she murmured, turning pale and dropping on the seat," the Mount of the Bores!
then gasped and went silent:
"You know, because I've heard a thousand times, in the city, in Castile, they call me the king of the hunters. Not yet been able to test my strength in battle, as my ascendant, I brought this fun image of war, all the vigor of my youth, all the heat, hereditary in my race. Carpet they step on your feet are spoils of beasts that have died by my hand. I know their haunts and habits, and I fought with them day and night, on foot and on horseback, alone and in clay, and no one will say that I've seen fleeing the danger on any occasion. Another night fly by that band, and fly like a joyous feast, and yet, tonight .... tonight. What ocultártelo?, I have fear. Do you hear? With dual campaigns, prayer has been heard in San Juan del Duero, the spirits of the mountain will now begin to raise their yellow skulls among the weeds that cover their graves ... Souls!, The mere sight of horror can freeze the blood of the bravest, turn their hair white or snatch in the whirlwind of his fantastic career as a wind-blown leaf, no one knows where.
While he spoke, an imperceptible smile played about the lips of Beatrice, who when he had finished he exclaimed in a tone as indifferent and poked the fire at home, where the wood jumped and crackled, throwing sparks of a thousand colors:
- Oh! That's all. What folly! Go now to the mountain by such a trifle! A night so dark night of the dead, and fruit set the path of wolves!
In saying this last sentence, leaned in a way so special that Alonso could not fail to understand all its bitter irony moved like a spring rose, wiped his brow as if to pull out the fear that was in your head and not in his heart, and with firm voice said, addressing the fair, which was still bent over Home entertaining in stirring the fire Beatriz
"Goodbye, goodbye ... See you soon.
- Alonso! Alonso! It said, turning quickly, but when he tried or pretended to want to stop him, the boy had disappeared.
a few minutes they heard the sound of a horse galloping away. The beauty, with a radiant expression of satisfied pride to her cheeks, paid rapt attention to that rumor is weakened, which is lost, it finally vanished.
The old, meanwhile, continued in his tales of ghosts appeared, the air roared in
balcony glass and the bells of the city doubled in the distance.
III
had spent an hour, two, three, the average Roche was about to ring, and Betty retired to his oratory. Alonso did not return, did not return, when in less than an hour might have done.
- There will be afraid! Cried the girl closed her prayer book and heading to his bed, having tried in vain to murmur some prayers that the church devoted to the Day of the Dead to no longer exist.
After turning off the light and crossed the double curtains of silk, fell asleep, slept a restless sleep, slight, nervous.
The twelve sounded on the clock Postigo. Beatriz dreamily heard the vibrations of the bell, slow, deaf, very sad, and opened his eyes. I thought I heard a couple of them to pronounce her name, but far, far away, and a muffled voice and suffering. The wind moaned in the glass of the window.
-will the wind, "he said, and placing his hand over his heart, tried to calm down. But his heart was more and more violence. The chapel doors larch had creaking on its hinges, with a long, loud high-pitched squealing.
First one and then another closer, all the doors that gave way to his room were ringing in their order, those with a thud and severe, those with a long and sorry crispador. Then silence, a silence full of strange noises, the silence of midnight, with a dull murmur of distant water, distant barking of dogs, confused voices, unintelligible words, echoes of footsteps coming and going, rustle of clothes being dragged , sighs drowning, breathing heavily almost feel, involuntary tremors that herald the presence of something unseen and whose approach however noticeable in the dark.
Beatriz, still trembling, head forward out of the blinds and listened for a moment. He heard a thousand different noises, passed his hand across his brow, ere it hear: nothing, silence.
saw, with the phosphorescence of the pupil in nervous crises, such as lumps moving in all directions, and when dilated fixed at one point, anything dark, impenetrable shadows.
- Bah! He exclaimed, returning to lay his head on the pillow beautiful blue satin bed, "am I as fearful as those poor people, whose heart beats in terror under armor, to hear a board of ghosts?
tried closing my eyes and sleep ... but in vain had made an effort over herself. Soon rejoined paler, more restless, more terrified. It was no longer an illusion: the hangings of brocade had touched the door to separate, and slow footsteps sounded on the carpet, the sound of those footsteps was muffled, almost imperceptible, but continuous, and its beat was heard something crack as wood or bone. And they came, they came, and moved the pew who was on the edge of his bed. Beatriz gave a sharp cry, and wrapped in clothing that covered her, hid his head and gasped.
The air shook the glass of the balcony, the water supply fell far and fell with an eternal and monotonous sound, the barking of the dogs were dilated in the gusts of air, and the bells of the city of Soria, some near, some distant, sadly folded for the souls of the dead.
So passed an hour, two night a century, because that seemed eternal night Beatrice. Finally the break of dawn: return of their fear, opened his eyes to the first rays of light. After a sleepless night and terrors, is so beautiful bright, white light of day! Silk curtains separated the bed, and I was about to laugh at their past fears, when suddenly a cold sweat covered his body, his eyes haggard and a deathly pale cheeks faded: the pew had been bloody, tattered blue band that lost in the woods, the blue band that went for Alonso. When your servers
terror came to news of the death of primogánito Alcudiel that morning had appeared devoured by wolves in the brush of Monte de las Animas, was found motionless, tense, seized with both hands to one of the columns ebony bed, eyes bulging, mouth ajar, white lips, rigid limbs, dead, dead of horror! IV
say occurred after this event, a lost hunter who spent the night of the dead could not get out of Monte de las Animas, and that the day before he died, he could tell what he saw, spoke horrible things. Among others, says he saw the skeletons of the ancient Templars and the nobles of Soria buried in the atrium of the chapel up to the point of prayer with a horrible crash, and, mounted on the bones of horses, pursued as a fierce a beautiful woman, pale and disheveled, with bare and bloody feet, and throwing cries of horror, circled around the tomb of Alonso.
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