Untold Podcast

A noble knight sojourns home, but finds a benevolent spirit shadows his journeys.

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Home lay northward, beyond Palestine and the Great Sea. Colgan rode his faithful bay steadily towards the green fields of Ireland. This worthy knight had fought great battles in the Crusades, with many a friend at his side. Those who had journeyed with him to war against the infidels had died. Now he rode alone, tattered and torn. Yet, solitary as he was, the knight felt that he did not ride alone but that some shadow or spirit rode with him. This in itself was strange to think, for Colgan was not a superstitious man and worshiped our Lord greatly.            

The thoughts that refute or affirm a man’s fancy are his alone, and none can truly say why a man believes the things he believes; but, these were Colgan’s reasons for suspecting an invisible companion: no matter how dark the night, or how dense the forest, a strange light surrounded him. It shone even in the brightest daylight, and at night when he camped, it warmed him and gave him light. This too: it often seemed to him that as he rode homeward, the merry peasants and their richly-dressed princes, the poor bruised and bent serfs and their armor-clad lords, would begin to approach him.  Whether to ask tribute or to threaten harm, he did not know. For always it happened that as they neared him, they would halt suddenly, as if some force turned them aside or impelled them backward. Yes, even those little hamlets where returning crusaders were greeted with honor and laurel, even in these little towns the inhabitants would turn their eyes away from him as he passed by. All this the good knight wondered at. Therefore thought he, “Surely, a spirit rides with me.”

Three children sea-ghosts travel to the land of the living to seek vengeance against the descendants of the man who murdered them at sea.

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One fall evening as the yellow sun lowered in the red sky, three ghosts, their hair matted with algae and seaweed, swam upward through the waves. From the farthest depths of the sea they had come. Two hundred years had passed since the day Urdu the fisherman murdered them and threw their bodies out of his tattered boat, and these ghosts who had lived among the sea-dead could no longer suppress the memories that made them so discontent. 

Because of their long sojourn in the sea, they were now green-skinned and green-eyed instead of the brown skin and black eyes the Lord of all life had given them while they were alive. In spite of their deaths, they were like living children in many ways and prone to getting into trouble.