his Brows.
And his Accoutrements! Warlike and Vengeful in the extreme, raising in my Brain thoughts of the passage in Psalms: “two-edged swords in their hands, to wreak vengeance on the nations and chastizement on the peoples …”A Wicked Unscabbard’d Rapier depended from his wide leather belt, into which were thrust Twin Pistols. But the most Curious object carried by the Adventurer was a kind of short lance or Stave of Ebony Wood, its Pommel carved into the shape of a Cat’s Head, its sharp tip stain’d with some Ocherous Substance.
At my elbow a Rude Fellow unknown to me whispered to his Companion, “’Tis said Kane was peer to Raleigh and Drake in their prime, during the century long gone.”
“Aye. I have it on best authority that his Afric exploits earned him undying youth from Pagan sorcerers.”
“If so, that fabled benison sits heavily on his shoulders.”
I felt a righteous indignation in my Youthful Soul against the words of these Hayseed Poltroons. To my eyes, Solomon Kane was Justice Incarnate, the most Proper and Vengeful Christian my Gaze had yet to encounter. Moreover, he radiated an Aura of Romance, like a figure out of Spenser or Malory, a Dark Knight on a Perpetual Quest.
With Unreasoning Certitude, I knew then that I would follow this man wherever he led, and do whatever he bade, if he would but Consent for me to be his Page.
Kane broke the Awe-full Silence occasion’d by his entrance with a curt speech: “I have arrived as agent of thy solace, Brethren.” Then he set foot on the Gangplank and began his descent.
Our Leaders were already moving solemnly toward the base of the Plank to usher Kane ashore, and the Visitor had nearly reached their warm Solicitude when the unexpected happened.
From the wat’ry gap twixt Wharf and Ship, a long scaled green Arm shot upward, and clamped its Mossy, Long-nailed fingers around the ankle of Kane’s right Boot!
Before anyone else could summon up the Wits to react, Kane had whipped forth one of his Antique Pistols, and instantly primed and fired it straight into the Form of his Attacker!
The Unearthly Hand convulsed and withdrew, releasing Kane. Women screamed, and Men hastened to peer over the edge of the Wharf to descry the Nature of the Assailant. By virtue of my small size, I managed to push to the Vanguard.
The Humaniform Creature had been mortally wounded, staining the Harbor’s Water’s with its dark blood. Its Mortal Frenzy made Full Apprehension of its Lineaments impossible amidst the Froth, yet I thought to Glimpse a Barbed Tail and Webbed Hands. Upon its Expiration, the Chthonic Creature floated for a Short Moment, revealing its Naked, Reptilian Backside, before sinking like a Stone.
Kane had calmly replaced his matchlock. No expression of either Dismay or Triumph clouded his stony features. He uttered his assessment of the Attack with plainspoken Certitude. “A child of Dagon. Your suspicions of Indian complicity with ancient demiurges were not misplaced, my friends. Let us adjourn to some quarters affording more safety than the open air, and we can begin to plot our campaign against these abominations.”
Major Pynchon was the first to regain his Composure. “By all means, Master Kane. We have adopted the house of one of our most esteemed husbandmen, Benedict Arnold, nigh to Spring Street, as our headquarters. Refreshment awaits us there.”
En masse then, I staying close to my Father’s side, so as not to be summarily dismissed from the Council of Greybeards, we set out up the Low Slope toward Spring Street, leaving at our back the waters of Newport Harbor, once so innocent and accommodating, yet now revealed to be the Lair of the Unspeakable.
All cram’d into the Narrow Quarters of the Keeping Room in Benedict Arnold’s stout gambrel’d House hard by the Old Stone Mill (which some averred had been builded by Norsemen before e’er White Men arrived on these shores), we Settlers held Solomon Kane at our Worshipful
And his Accoutrements! Warlike and Vengeful in the extreme, raising in my Brain thoughts of the passage in Psalms: “two-edged swords in their hands, to wreak vengeance on the nations and chastizement on the peoples …”A Wicked Unscabbard’d Rapier depended from his wide leather belt, into which were thrust Twin Pistols. But the most Curious object carried by the Adventurer was a kind of short lance or Stave of Ebony Wood, its Pommel carved into the shape of a Cat’s Head, its sharp tip stain’d with some Ocherous Substance.
At my elbow a Rude Fellow unknown to me whispered to his Companion, “’Tis said Kane was peer to Raleigh and Drake in their prime, during the century long gone.”
“Aye. I have it on best authority that his Afric exploits earned him undying youth from Pagan sorcerers.”
“If so, that fabled benison sits heavily on his shoulders.”
I felt a righteous indignation in my Youthful Soul against the words of these Hayseed Poltroons. To my eyes, Solomon Kane was Justice Incarnate, the most Proper and Vengeful Christian my Gaze had yet to encounter. Moreover, he radiated an Aura of Romance, like a figure out of Spenser or Malory, a Dark Knight on a Perpetual Quest.
With Unreasoning Certitude, I knew then that I would follow this man wherever he led, and do whatever he bade, if he would but Consent for me to be his Page.
Kane broke the Awe-full Silence occasion’d by his entrance with a curt speech: “I have arrived as agent of thy solace, Brethren.” Then he set foot on the Gangplank and began his descent.
Our Leaders were already moving solemnly toward the base of the Plank to usher Kane ashore, and the Visitor had nearly reached their warm Solicitude when the unexpected happened.
From the wat’ry gap twixt Wharf and Ship, a long scaled green Arm shot upward, and clamped its Mossy, Long-nailed fingers around the ankle of Kane’s right Boot!
Before anyone else could summon up the Wits to react, Kane had whipped forth one of his Antique Pistols, and instantly primed and fired it straight into the Form of his Attacker!
The Unearthly Hand convulsed and withdrew, releasing Kane. Women screamed, and Men hastened to peer over the edge of the Wharf to descry the Nature of the Assailant. By virtue of my small size, I managed to push to the Vanguard.
The Humaniform Creature had been mortally wounded, staining the Harbor’s Water’s with its dark blood. Its Mortal Frenzy made Full Apprehension of its Lineaments impossible amidst the Froth, yet I thought to Glimpse a Barbed Tail and Webbed Hands. Upon its Expiration, the Chthonic Creature floated for a Short Moment, revealing its Naked, Reptilian Backside, before sinking like a Stone.
Kane had calmly replaced his matchlock. No expression of either Dismay or Triumph clouded his stony features. He uttered his assessment of the Attack with plainspoken Certitude. “A child of Dagon. Your suspicions of Indian complicity with ancient demiurges were not misplaced, my friends. Let us adjourn to some quarters affording more safety than the open air, and we can begin to plot our campaign against these abominations.”
Major Pynchon was the first to regain his Composure. “By all means, Master Kane. We have adopted the house of one of our most esteemed husbandmen, Benedict Arnold, nigh to Spring Street, as our headquarters. Refreshment awaits us there.”
En masse then, I staying close to my Father’s side, so as not to be summarily dismissed from the Council of Greybeards, we set out up the Low Slope toward Spring Street, leaving at our back the waters of Newport Harbor, once so innocent and accommodating, yet now revealed to be the Lair of the Unspeakable.
All cram’d into the Narrow Quarters of the Keeping Room in Benedict Arnold’s stout gambrel’d House hard by the Old Stone Mill (which some averred had been builded by Norsemen before e’er White Men arrived on these shores), we Settlers held Solomon Kane at our Worshipful
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