CHAPTER ONE: HANGMAN’S MOON

The light of the moon shone through our cell now and the bearded stranger continued his story. "Of strange treasures I will tell you, oh wayfarer, as we sit in this dark cell and I await my doom. I have sailed the seven seas and seen a great many things, things that cannot be explained other than to say magic, the gods or some hidden, dark witchcraft– aye, call it necromancy if you will.

 They are all dark arts that weigh one’s soul against the power that can be had. Hear this and know it well, that a small isle in the Mediterranean holds the treasures of the legendary Daedalus himself. Yes, the man who invented the wings for his tragic son Icarus. Icarus who flew too high and too close to the sun. Daedalus made many magical devices of fine craftsmanship: clockwork animals and astrolabes to help astrologers and magicians know the alignment of the planets, swords within swords and things–fine crafted things of platinum and gold. This I know for I was the one who buried them as I fled for my life from the Spanish with their galleons. I alone escaped with only this tale to tell.

How does a wretched old seaman know of such things? I couldn’t keep my nose from a book or a good tale. Ever curious I was. Before I turned to high piracy I was a scholar and a man of learning. No lad, not all of us are born of a lucky star and I found myself with no way to make a day ́s wages. As it were, events unfolded in such a way that the opportunity for treasure came to me. Whispered from ear to ear in the taverns and brew halls. And though I was not born under a lucky star a bit of luck comes into each man’s life and treasure I found.

This I pursued and more and more I gained, ’twas but a little–just an appetizer to a man starved and my lust for treasure overtook me. As I said, both curiosity and a lust for adventure drove me on. A wanderlust that could not be quelled. No, I don’t regret it, not for an instant. Before I knew it I was captain of me own ship. Yes, I was captain but I was also wanted by the Spanish and the British, not to mention other privateers who set their sights on my treasures. By then, I was a challenge to be had and men set their resources to gaining the reward for my head.”

He made the gesture of slicing his throat with his index finger.

“The power of it was just too much to contain. Gold coin, chests and chests of it. Gold, that was cursed. Wanted I was, for my name was whispered in shadows. Hushed voices told of my cursed findings, and also of my murdering rage. To catch me was to hang me and that is why I now sit before you, lad."

There was silence for a time as he rested his hands on his knees. Then he mustered up and continued the tale. "Ah, I may see the sun but once more, mate. I wish I possessed one of those very treasures of Daedalus now. But should you escape, this old pirate–this old sailor, will tell you of something else yet hidden in one of the dark corners of the world: The Temple of King Solomon. King Solomon in all his wealth hid his treasure and there it lies buried with his most prized wives: seven in all. A pile of treasure to you and I is but a fraction of his wealth.

In his retinue he had the prettiest, wisest and most trusted of women he did. Of the thousands he could have had he took to the ones who had a penchant for magic and he taught them sorcery he did. That ́s how he built his temple... with demons and this led him further into the study of sorcery. But the wives... Yes, the wives, they had great aptitude for all things arcane, all seven. In secret he taught them the ways of demonology. Seven brides: each beautiful and powerful in arcane ways. Now that’s a scary thought, lad. Such treasures they were. He sealed them up in the very chamber that held his gold.  ́Twas a secret

chamber of course. When the last one passed from this life he sealed it shut. He outlived them all he did–probably some eldritch thing he learned that kept him alive long past the age most men pass. Perhaps even now he still draws breath. One cannot say... How maddening would it be lad to live forever, even with the wealth of kings?

But the souls of the wives live on… warped like wood by sorcery and dark magics. The demons he employed found a way to exactly revenge for their servitude.

Twice I have escaped the hangman’s noose to tell you this tale. Perhaps the kingdom of Osiris holds better things for us. Alas, I know it does; I will soon find out. Nonetheless, a man gains wisdom and a sense for things and in my heart of hearts I could not let these great treasures go unknown. I have killed and robbed and plundered in the name of lust for I am of the lustful temperament; whether I am worthy or deserving of any fate good or bad no longer matters for I am here now with you, my friend, in this dark, musty cell and you still have life and spirit in you. You will survive this and live on through many adventures and tell many great tales of love and woe. This I know. Don’t ask me how I know. The sea has revealed things to me. Perhaps it was my mother for she was of a mystic bent.

Alas, on with the tale of Solomon. There were seven. Each one a sorceress in her own right who holds tomes and treasures in her grave. Legend has it they lie pristine and preserved in all the original glory in which they were put to rest. For a laugh, what a beauty sleep that is, and what beauties they must be. Witches, the lot of them! Turn a man’s heart to ice and stop it cold. ’Twould shatter in one’s very breast inside the lonely cage of bone to set eyes on such beauty. Waiting to be awakened when a hapless fool enters their resting chamber.

Know this, lad, when you come to them and ye surely will because I can see it in your eyes, lad. You are of a cunning sort like the great sailor Odysseus himself. Know then, when you come to them that each sister is guarded by some otherworldly entity. Some call them demons. Solomon himself called a whole army of them to his service and they are protected by those very demons that Solomon did once control. One demon for each beautiful bride. What a contrast, aye, lad? He must have set them as guardians should he return or maybe perhaps to leave them in peaceful rest, undisturbed.

I’ve studied on these magics but never practiced. Aye, dying’s one thing but the eternal entrapment and damnation of the soul is a whole and complete ’nother thing. I’ve seen such things in the night and only at night. These demons have the strength of ten men or greater they have, I tell you. And they themselves control the elements. They have knowledge of magic spells too. Be warned, fair sailor, be warned. But even demons can be halted if one knows the ways of magic. Many paths there are, many. One way is with a word. Yes, lad, a word is all it takes, but to find that word one may have to travel the four corners of the world. Words of power and secret names. You will have to learn those things, dear lad, and learn them well for your life lies in the balance. When you leave here– however you may leave–whether you are pardoned or whether you escape by your own wits, there will be people waiting outside who desire to command your attention. They will offer things to you that seem too good to be true and most assuredly they are. Avoid these gypsies, brigands, and buccaneers for there are many who want to know the secrets of this old sailor. Know the burden I have placed upon thee and know that you and only you are privy to such knowledge."

He paused for a moment and then raised his finger in exclamation. “The map requires a key and the key opens a chamber which holds the map. The chamber is at my manse off the coast of France. The whereabouts of the key–well, I will let you in on that secret when the time is right, lad.”

He laid himself down and propped his pillow. Then closed his eyes.

We awoke to the sounds of guards, and people where stirring about the prison courtyards and halls. Our small window told of many things. The light and sound came through the small window that was high on the wall–the cell with its wooden beds and straw floor told us the pattern of day and night, the footfalls of the guards, orders being given, a guard’s discontent with the captain, and sometimes a whispered word overheard.

He paused again for a moment. Once again, he placed his gargantuan hands on his gargantuan knees as he concentrated and struggled to right some wrong inside–some ailment. He looked up at me with a crazed look and yellow eyes all cracked with red, then cleared his throat and continued.

"If the hangman’s noose doesn’t get me my ill health most certainly will. I prefer the noose. Why farm things out? Be on with it and to the next world I say for it most certainly must be a peaceful place. Aye, this I know in my heart of hearts,” He said in a melodious voice. He winked at me to accentuate the point. He paused as if to remember his place in the tale. "Now, many people have come to see this old sailor hang and see the deed be done lad, but care not for my past and the barbarous deeds I done. I have one last thing to tell. Of two treasures I have told you, but no set of tales would be complete less they reach the sum of three." He held up three fingers, one of which had been sliced off at the tip. "Yes, there is one more."

He removed a simple leather strap from around his neck which held a large silver key that glinted in the moonlight. He placed it in my hand with his large hand and closed my fingers over it then continued the story. "This key will reveal the third and final treasure. My wife knows not of this." He blinked an eye through a bushy, blue brow. "She thought me dead and gave me no proper burial. Her brothers threw me out to sea they did– tossed me upon the foamy waves like an old and used up rag doll. And the very mistress of the sea carried me to a distant shore. By some miracle or magics–that, I have never been able to figure, I survived just as Odysseus did. Yes, I was weak and it took me weeks to recover, but I lived, lad. I pulled through with her thinking me dead. A clean slate I had... for a while."

He coughed, cleared his throat, and spat. "You will find my chateau off the coast of France. On the grounds there is a tower. You won’t need a map though, the ghosts will guide you." He laughed. He cut his hand through the air dismissing my wide-eyed reaction. "Now before you protest, lad, know that there is more than one kind of ghost. Some ghosts will scare the dickens out of ye and leave you dead as a doornail. These are not those type of ghosts. These ghosts are guides and guide you they will... right to the third and final chamber. I regret to tell you though that neither my beloved wife"–he coughed and spat– "nor her brothers will be glad to see you if they find you on the grounds. Enlist stealth to gain entry to the door that takes that key.  ́Twould be better that way as enough blood has already been spilt on those grounds; my own blood to boot. Be warned that my wife will not be a good host. She will mark thee as an intruder."

He raised a finger to add to the exposition. "Of these treasures three I have told. You and and only you are privy to this knowledge. Seek these things and you will never have to work another day in your life. It is my bad luck that has come to be your good luck as the wheel keeps a’ spinning lad.... always a spinnin’, but guard your soul, guard your soul..."

It was then that the guards came with guns, with bayonets, and with shackles. "Bluebeard, it’s time."

“That ́s Captain Bluebeard to you. ̈

He complied with the guards and gave no resistance when they shackled him. At the

threshold he paused and said the last thing he would ever say. "It was mighty fine to make

your acquaintance, lad." He winked and the guards took him by the arms and led him to his doom. He coughed along the way and his deep grumbling faded in the distance.