The days following my miraculous reawakening have been no less revelatory in nature than that first moment of consciousness after what I presumed was certain death. As I record them now I am still struck by a sense of astonishment and revulsion. Had I not lived them myself, I do not think I would truly have believed them to have taken place! For it was during these few monstrous days that the true nature of my new self was revealed to me in all its shocking majesty, and the path I now walk laid out bare before me…
Once he had recovered enough of his wits to do more than stare and point, Faizal decided to lead me to his village. The night was clear but moonless, full of the sounds of such creatures as go about their business in a desert at night. Faizal picked his way across the terrain with the ease and surety of one who has travelled this path countless times before, picking out the optimum path through the scrub and rocky outcrops, avoiding all obstacles from memory. I expected to stumble and falter behind him, having no inkling of where we were nor where we were headed; yet, despite the lack of moonlight, I saw the way clearly, my sight surprisingly unhindered by the darkness and lack of moonlight to illuminate our way. I remarked silently upon this to myself but, wary of falling behind Faizal, I for the moment put it from my mind and concentrated on the way ahead.
With no moon to use to mark the passage of time it was impossible to accurately gauge for how long we travelled, walking along in silence; Faizal glanced over his shoulder periodically to check I was still following him and occasionally gave me what I assume he thought to be an encouraging half-smile. There was always a hint of nervousness and apprehension detectable at the corners of his mouth however.
After maybe an hour or so of walking without pause we rounded a rocky outcrop and I espied a short distance away a small settlement. It consisted of somewhere between twenty or thirty houses, all built so as to roughly encircle a town square which had what appeared to be a well at its centre. No doubt this was the communal well which all the village inhabitants made use of for their fresh water. Dotted about outside the ring of houses were numerous small paddocks constructed from crudely assembled timber fences, inside of which a variety of livestock could be seen. Even at this late hour, the flickering glow of firelight could be seen in some of the windows of the houses.
It was only upon stopping to survey the Faizal’s homestead that the realisation dawned upon me that I had just trekked for over an hour, across uneven terrain, in full armour – for the Saracen’s had seen fit to dress me for battle, included my sword but minus my helmet, prior to dumping my lifeless body in the desert. No doubt wanting to make it unambiguously clear that I was a slain crusading knight, the absence of my helmet most likely, I postulated, to ensure that the signs of my execution were plain for all to see – I had not fallen gloriously in battle but been slaughtered like livestock. Despite this, I had not needed to rest at any point. Nor, on deeper introspection did I appear particularly fatigued or to be perspiring…
Faizal made to start towards the village but stopped suddenly when he realised I was no longer following him. He hurried back to where I stood beckoning to me and speaking quickly in Arabic, no doubt beseeching me to follow him to his home where he could show off his ‘angel’ to those he lived with; curiously this was the first time it had occurred to me that Faizal must have a family and I wondered which of those simple houses was his home, and how many people shared it with him.
He continued to urge me on towards the village but I remained steadfast where I was by the rocky outcrop, gesturing to my clothing and armour. At this Faizal’s expression changed from one of imploring to one of shocked understanding – I was dressed for battle in the bloodsoaked garb of a crusading knight, I could not simply walk unannounced into his village in the middle of night! Were I to, I was certain I would be set upon and killed a second time. Faizal, seeming to understand my thoughts, ceased trying to persuade me on towards the village and instead started off on a path that led around the rocky outcrop and slightly away from the village. I followed a short way behind him when abruptly he stopped and began to point excitedly towards the rocky outcrop. Coming up beside him I saw that he was pointing to a small cave, secluded into the rocky outcrop and reasonably obscured by brush. Understanding his thinking I stooped and crept into the opening in the rock. Looking back I could just make out the village, but with the brush in front of the entrance I felt sure that I would be safely hidden from sight lest anyone look this way. Nodding my agreement to Faizal his face split into a grin, he spoke at me rapidly before hurrying off to I know not where. I sat and waited for Faizal’s return, praying that I would not be discovered before that time. As I sat and looked out through the brush at the cave mouth, the first rays of the new day’s sun began to give the horizon beyond the village a faint glow.
Evidently I had fallen into a deep slumber, for when I awoke and peered out of my hiding place the sun was high in the sky. Furthermore a plate of food and a carafe of water had been left at the cave mouth. Clearly these had been brought from the village by Faizal, probably on his way out to take the goats to pasture; the fact I had not been disturbed by his delivery of them was a testament to quite how deeply I had slept – I wondered whether he had tried to wake me or simple let me be. I examined the plate of food that had been left for me; an assortment of fruit, some cheese and some now cold cooked chicken were arranged neatly on the plate. Whilst conscious of the fact I hadn’t eaten properly for several days I was, nonetheless, oddly lacking in appetite. I put my lack of hunger down to the stress of the past few days. Knowing however that I needed to keep up my strength, I set about devouring the contents of the plate.
It was here that I received further clues to the dreadful change that I had ungone. In hindsight I’m amazed at the calmness I displayed when I arose following that fateful blow; was that too a characteristic of the creature I now know I had become – an antipathy towards the extraordinary and the grotesque?
But I digress. The clue of which I speak was that, in spite of its evident freshness and its appealing appearance, the taste of the food repulsed me! I had begun with the cheese and at first assumed it was due some variation in the method of its making from that used in Europe, next I postulated it may have gone bad being left out in the heat of the day for so long. Setting the cheese aside therefore I tried the fruit, but my reaction was much the same. The chicken provoked an interesting response, for whilst the flavour was wholly disgusting, the sensation of sinking my teeth into the flesh as I bit into it evoked in me a sense of satisfaction I did not recall ever having experienced before!
Setting the plate aside I passed the rest of the day watching the village from a distance. I had removed my armour and stowed it safely at the back of the cave. That way I hoped, were I to be discovered, I might be able to pass myself off as a simple pilgrim who’d lost his way and taken refuge in the cave. I had expected Faisal to return later in the day, but as night began to fall there was no sign of him. Most likely he was delayed on his day back from wherever he had taken the goats to graze that day I surmised. Having watched the village from the safety of the cave throughout the day I was yet to see any of the villagers come anywhere near the vicinity of the cave. Emboldened by this, and feeling a desperate need to stretch my muscles, I resolved to venture forth from my hiding place and cautiously explore the area.
Emerging from my hiding place I stood and stretched, enjoying the feeling of the cool night breeze against my skin. As I stood just outside the cave mouth looking down to the village below I was struck by a sudden pang of hunger, unsurprising given I hadn’t eaten anything today. Surveying my surroundings there was still no sign of Faisal; deliberating for a moment I resolved to sneak closer to the village and attempt to scavenge some food more agreeable to my tastes.
I approached the village as slowly and silently as possible, struck again by the clarity of my night vision, with only the thin sliver of the new moon showing to provide any illumination of the path ahead – the lights of the village being too distant still to provide any useful light. As I made my way as silently as possible towards the village the smells and sounds of a village settling down for the night wafted towards me. One scent in particular caught my attention, sweet and aromatic on the air like red wine with a hint of blackberries, making the hunger pangs grow all the more intense in response. My thoughts now overcome with curiosity as to the source of the smell and a rising, almost uncontrollable hunger, I discarded some of my caution and made my way down and into the village.
Keeping as best as I could to the shadows I crept silently into the village, my nose constantly sampling the air for the scent that had caught my attention, like a blood-hound trailing its quarry I thought to myself – if only I’d known then how prescient this remark would transpire to be. Following the sweet scent I turned between two buildings, low squat houses which lay silent and still, their occupants no doubt sleeping soundly in their beds. It was there I saw the source of the smell which had lured me thus far, or at least its bearer; for a man was stood in the passageway created between the two houses, his back pointed toward me. At first I presumed he must be carrying whatever was creating the alluring aroma and that I simply couldn’t see it from my position. As I approached him cautiously, my desire to identify the source of the smell overcoming any sense of danger or trepidation I should have been feeling, I noted that in one hand he held a rudimentary spear, in the other a battered saracen style shield; I realised I was following some sort of night watchman, going about his rounds, the smell, I thought, must be coming from some treat he had secreted on his person to consume during a quiet moment.
I continued to edge closer to the man, unsure of what I intended to do once I reach him… was I to accost him and steal whatever food he was carrying? By now I was almost intoxicated with the scent emanating from him, the hunger in my belly muddling all rational thought, I simply needed to find that irresistible smelling item and devour it. Edging further and further towards him, my footfalls silent I came to within a few feet of him, able to reach out and touch him should I have wanted to.
That was when it happened. Drunk on the sickly sweet aroma, driven to the point of desperation and recklessness by feelings of hunger, something rose inside me. Some primal, animalistic instinct beyond the bounds of my control. Operating on instinct alone I crouched low, the muscles in my legs taught and ready for action, and almost without realising I was about to do it, I pounced. I launched myself through the air, tackling the man from behind, my shoulder hitting him directly between the shoulder blades knocking the air from him. He hit the ground, stunned, struggling to get his breath back but I was upon him in an instant. My knees landed on his back pressing him down into the dirt, my hands pinning his arms to his sides, the spear and shield having been sent skittering down the passageway following the initial impact. I was overcome now with a bloodlust, the like of which I had not experienced even in the most ferocious and frenzied of battles. I was aware of what was taking place but almost as if I were an outside observer, my body operating almost entirely on instinct. As the man beneath me tried to wriggle and squirm attempting to buck me off I leant forward, and sunk my teeth into his neck.
I felt the flesh rend between my teeth. Felt the blood erupt from the open wound course between my lips and into my mouth, it tasted sweet on my tongue, not coppery and metallic as it had in the past. I knew then that the scent that had drawn me down into the village wasn’t food in any sense I had previously understood it, but the smell of fresh, warm, life-giving blood. I drank. I drank deeply and greedily, my hunger abating with each mouthful of that sweet liquor I swallowed. I drank until the blood no longer flowed into my mouth with each beat of the man beneath me’s heart. I drank until my hunger was satiated, and he was dead.
My hunger satisfied the bloodlust subsided and I was overcome by a wave of terrible clarity and realisation at the vile act I had just performed! I scrabbled from the corpse beneath me and cowered against the wall of one of the houses. What in God’s creation had I become! A noise nearby from one of the nearby hoses brought me to my senses. I needed to flee, to be away from here before I was discovered; but what to do with the body? Quickly searching around the opposite end of the passageway to the one I’d entered by I realised I was close to the village centre – and the well! The well would suffice I thought to myself! I dashed back body on the floor, noting for the first time its pallid complexion, having been thoroughly drained of blood. I hoisted the body onto my shoulder with surprising ease, my strength far greater than I remembered it being. Peering out from the edge of the passage, I convinced myself the way was clear and that no living soul was present to see what was about to take place. With that I dashed forward, dropping the body over the side of the well and disappearing back into the passage almost as one fluid motion, the splash from the body hitting the water below resounded like a church bell in my ears . I crouched there in the dark, waiting for sounds of villagers coming to investigate, but no such sounds came. Hopeful that I had not been observed or discovered, I slunk silently from the village and back to my hiding spot in the cave. There I fell into the deep slumber of the well fed, where I was tormented by dreams populated by visions of blood and sensations of tearing flesh…
The next two days followed much the same pattern: Faisal did not appear although worryingly neither did any plates of food or jugs of water, not that I had an appetite to partake of any of those things. I passed the days alone in the cave, a sense of hunger mounting throughout the daylight hours until finally, following the fall of night, I crept forward from my hiding place and stalked down to the village looking for food. The second night I happened across a goatherd on the path between the village and the cave returning late from the days grazing. Much like the night watchman I took him down quickly and silently from behind, draining him of his lifeblood before burying him with my bare hands in the dusty ground some twenty yards from the side of the path. The third night I had to sneak about the village for a good hour or so, hiding in shadows waiting. There was a night patrol wandering the village, but now they operated in a pair, a consequence of my actions I was sure. Eventually, I picked up the scent of a farmer who had stepped out in the night to check on his livestock. I followed him out to the paddock where a few sheep and chickens slept, striking quickly, tearing his throat open and drinking the delicious tonic that flowed forth. This third night was different however, this night I was satisfied before I had drained the poor farmer dry. I left him, lying in his paddock, bleeding and gasping and fled back to the cave.
So it was that I awoke today feeling oddly alive, invigorated, no pangs of mounting hunger grew throughout the day. That abominable craving seemed to have, at least for now, been satisfied.
That evening Faisal returned, leaning heavily on a staff and walking with a pronounced limp. Through a series of mimes and gestures I was able to discover he had fallen and injured his ankle while out with the herd. Having managed to limp home he had spent the next few days unable to walk. This had been the reason for his absence. He tried to tell me about the deaths in the village, whilst I did not understand the words he spoke, his gestures articulating the wounds suffered by the victims left me in no doubt that it was my handiwork he was describing.
Having updated me on the goings on he turned, and limped back down to the village. As I watched him recede into the distance, I resolved that tomorrow, with or without Faisal, I should leave this place. I was sure if I remained for more than a few days longer I would be discovered, and it would not take much for the villagers to connect the stranger hiding in the cave to the deaths that had occurred.
It was more than just that however, over the previous few days of solitude in the cave I had mediated on all that had transpired since my execution. My reawakening, the seemingly preternatural night vision and strength I now possessed, the raging hunger that could only be quenched by human blood… I had heard the stories growing up, read the fantastical tales just like any boy. I had thought them to be just that however, stories and tales. Yet here I was, with the evidence of my own existence and actions to cast aside any doubt as to the validity and basis in truth of those tales. I could not refute what I had become, what I had been cursed to be – a Vampyre! Not only was it not safe for me to remain here, it wasn’t safe for the village were I to remain either!
The Wandering Bard Plays 
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